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22 September 2003 @ 10:46 am
the terrible monday of the soul  
So, I'm back at work.

...crickets chirping...

Oh dear god, I desperately need some amusement to pass the time today. Who will write me S/X with smooching and gasping and stuff? Pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease?

I surprised myself by roughing out a story idea last night and this morning, Spike and Xander, a season four twist. Very tempting to try and write it simultaneously with That Big Series That Has Eaten Two Years of My Life, You Know the One.

I may post a hundred times today as I attempt to distract myself.

Scariest thing I've seen this morning, by the way.
 
 
 
Herself_nyc: Babyherself_nyc on September 22nd, 2003 10:52 am (UTC)
Oh, how I feel for you. And I'd love to write you a scene but I'm struggling with the sequel to "Disenchantment" and you want me to do that, don't you?

Don't you?

Damnit!
E. Stardustemstardust on September 22nd, 2003 10:59 am (UTC)
I thought of you this morning when I heard on the news about earthquakes in the Dominican Republic, Thailand and Pakistan. Maybe your message to God was a little too general? ;-)
Estepheia: Ladykillerestepheia on September 22nd, 2003 11:00 am (UTC)
Scary indeed. Eeeeeeek! *shudder*
As for the S/X scene... I plan on working on the smut scene for 'Cues and Balls' later, as soon as I've got my little drabble set organized.
So maybe...
Tamaratamarabass on September 22nd, 2003 11:02 am (UTC)
The fire of God's love burns out the sin the same way the hot steam routs the dirt out of your pores.

::shakes head::

Holy crap.


...Apparently I have problem skin because I'm Agnostic. Who knew?
Dio: my bitchdiachrony on September 22nd, 2003 11:16 am (UTC)
That is indeed frightening, and jaw-droppingly absurd.

One beauty secret is for "Spiritual Facials."

"The fire of God's love burns out the sin the same way the hot steam routs the dirt out of your pores. This kind of relationship with God will do more to improve your looks than any amount of facials," it reads.

Geez. Wonder if that's why I had such good skin in my teens? Losin' my religion brought on the bouts of acne ... it's obvious now; I must repent and accept Jesus Christ as my savior, if only out of pure vanity.

Shyeah.
Angelvalarltd on September 22nd, 2003 11:23 am (UTC)
Sorry, I don't write S/X. I'm an A/X type myself (actually more of a Wesley/Giles or G/E sort)

Revolve looks like a good idea. It's not much different from The Good News for Modern Man or any of the other speciality Bibles that have come out. My daughter wants one. (she's 11)

witlingwitling on September 22nd, 2003 11:33 am (UTC)
How about outtakes from the not-yet-written (and possibly/probably not-ever-to-be-written) Vamp!Xander sequel to Ars?

Oh, come on. Peppier than the last one, I promise! Let's see... Um...




They go to a bar, some giant bar in another freaking warehouse because it's always warehouses with these people. It's all Tiki torches and taiko drums and cage dancing. Very eighties, possibly very seventies. He should have watched that Studio 54 movie when it came out, but, Neve Campbell? Come on.

Anyway, it's hot and smoky and packed, and Spike walks straight in past the bouncers, who just glance at him and then go back to looking big. Xander hesitates briefly, then scurries in after, fully expecting to feel a gorilla hand on the back of his neck. No hand. Apparently they know he's with Spike. Or at least he's supposed to be. Where the hell is Spike?

A few seconds of panicked searching, squinting through the smoke and the crowd, and wondering if he's supposed to be able to, what?, smell him or something, and then he catches a glimpse of the back of Spike's head. Getting smaller. Going away.

He feels a quick ratcheting-up of the panic, a little closing in the throat, and dives forward into the crowd.




Huh. No sex. But we can get there from here! If I didn't have a meeting to go to. Maybe later...
Anna S.eliade on September 22nd, 2003 11:38 am (UTC)
Vamp!Xander. Oh my oh my oh my, yes. Thank you! *g*
witlingwitling on September 22nd, 2003 11:56 am (UTC)



Spike's like Moses, parting the crowd, and it's very cool, except the only problem is that it closes up again after the duster whips through, and Xander's left to fight his way through all the bodies. Cold, most of them. He has the brief, ugly thought that he's pushing through a crowd of dead bodies...and then the briefer, uglier thought that he's one of them. Sort of. Maybe. Fuck that, though.

He keeps shoving and shouldering, trying to keep an eye on the white head somewhere in front of him, appearing and disappearing behind the masses. Someone grabs his shirt and he yanks free and keeps going. Someone says something that he doesn't quite catch. He catches the tone, though, and makes sure he doesn't look around. He's with Spike, he's supposed to be with Spike. If Spike would just slow the fuck down.

There's a little opening in the press, just enough to see through, and what he sees is that Spike has a woman on his arm and another heading for him. Both vixens. Jesus. He's like a magnet; the second one pushes up against him with a smile, the first one pulls in closer. He's got his back turned; Xander can't see his face.

Jesus. The crowd gets thick again and Xander starts fighting harder, putting his head down and bulling through. He's not sure what he's going to do when he catches up, but maybe he'll at least have some breathing space. If he needed to breathe, that would be good.

Fuck that, though.

He gets another few feet ahead and suddenly there's a hand on his collar, jerking him back and choking him. He makes a garotted sound and almost loses his feet, then finds himself spun around and staring at some guy's chest. Because he's big. When Xander looks up, he sees the guy is also frowning. Big dark eyebrows, little black eyes. Bad skin. Fangs. He looks...puzzled. And pissed off.

"What the hell are you supposed to be?" he asks, and leans down to sniff Xander's neck.




And now I must go and meet.
Anna S.eliade on September 22nd, 2003 12:51 pm (UTC)
Oh man. I'm all titillated now. Very tit.
witlingwitling on September 23rd, 2003 02:28 pm (UTC)
I'm just gonna keep going with this, if you don't mind. Because if I don't have something irresponsible to turn to now and then for the next few hours, I'm going to take this Sharpie and do something that will get me a feature spot on COPS. Yeah.




"Nobody," Xander chokes out, and tries to get a few fingers between the guy's hand and his neck. "I'm just--"

"What the hell?" the guy says again, and sniffs Xander's ear. Xander's toes are in only the most tenuous, passing relationship with the floor. He can feel his spine elongating, every little vertebra clicking and loosening. Pilates. Terrifying, painful Pilates. With beer breath.

The guy snorts cold air into his ear, then wheels around, centrifuging Xander and searching with his free hand for someone in the crowd behind him. "Murray. Murray!"

Xander pries feebly at the guy's fingers, and tries to turn his head to find Spike. Out of the corner of his eye, he catches a glimpse of the white hair. He's at the bar. One foot up on the rail, a vixen glued to his arm, another on the stool in front of him. Jesus. Xander opens his mouth and tries to shout, but all he gets is a bubbling wheeze, like squishing an empty juice box.

"Murray!" The guy yanks Murray out of the crowd and thrusts Xander toward him. Murray's big, game-faced, Mack-jacketed. Murray smells like dope. "Smell this, will you?"

Murray looks at both of them like they're fucking insane, and Xander tries to put an apologetic expression on his face. Sorry, Murray. Sorry, sorry. Go back to what you were smoking. Didn't mean to bother you--

Murray shrugs, leans over, and sniffs him. A wall of ganga hits Xander in the face, and he tries not to gag. When he opens his eyes again, Murray is looking at him with the same puzzled, annoyed expression.

"What the fuck?" he says.

"Harris!" Spike yells, from somewhere in southeast Asia, and Xander starts trying to pry his way loose again.




Ahem. Thanks. Later, dude.

(Deleted comment)
witlingwitling on September 23rd, 2003 04:30 pm (UTC)



"I know," says the guy still holding Xander's neck in a vise. "It's like, when you almost know what it is, but you don't?"

Murray nods. "Or like, when it's not what it's supposed to be." He leans forward and huffs Xander again. Leans back, raises a finger, hesitates. "It's like--"

"Food," the guy holding Xander says. Murray cocks an eyebrow.

"But--"

"Yeah. Not."

They both look at Xander, who dangles and tries to look unlike food. If he could just get a word out, he'd be able to plead his cause. Tell them he's with Spike, which is the magic phrase in these parts. Tell them if they don't unhand him, there'll be...well, he's not sure there'll be much to pay, actually. Spike doesn't seem to give much of a damn what happens to him just now, but he might pissed if someone eats his whipping boy.

"One way to find out," Murray says, and the big guy holding Xander shrugs. Xander kicks feebly, and the big guy shakes him. His teeth clack. Murray's leaning in, smelling like bong water and blood clots, and the fingers around Xander's neck loosen just a little, so there's room to bite, and he hitches in a breath to yell.

"Harris!" Spike can bellow when he wants to.




Judicious tense editing required. Sorry for the spammage. I should take this elsewhere.
Anna S.eliade on September 23rd, 2003 04:48 pm (UTC)
I should take this elsewhere.

You'd better not! *g* Well, you can if you want. Or you can keep posting here. I'm easy. As long as I get to read wherever you post, so that I can lick thank you kindly.

This made me grin, which is good, because ten minutes ago I was in a vicious mood. (Stupid work stuff. Grrrrrsiiiiiigh. Must go home.)
witlingwitling on September 24th, 2003 09:00 am (UTC)



They all look around in the direction of the yell, and Murray looks thoughtful.

"Spike," he says, and glances over the top of Xander's head at the big guy. There's a momentary, silent communion. Then Murray shrugs, scratches the back of his head, and steps back.

"Swim away, l'il fishie," he says.

Xander hits the ground swimming.

He makes it through the crowd via a process of elbowing, shouldering, and kneeing anything in his way. Someone smacks him in the back of the head, and he blinks and keeps going. By the time he gets to the little clearing around Spike, he's gasping and his shirt has been yanked sideways around his torso. He pulls up short and stands there, knees locked, swaying slightly.

Spike's got his forearms propped against the bar, one boot up, one arm around a vixen in leather pants. His free hand is slowly turning a shot glass full of something clear and amber. When Xander bursts out of the crowd, he glances over the vixen's shoulder at him. Frowns. Then goes back to watching her talk. Little frown of annoyance still on his lips.

Xander waits a second or two, then slowly straightens his shirt and runs a hand through his hair. He takes a step toward the bar.

"Where the hell were you?" Spike says suddenly, riding right over whatever the vixen was exuding. The vixen pauses, then gives Xander a nasty glance over her shoulder.

"I was--"

"Sit down and bloody shut up."

Xander's mouth snaps closed, and he stands still for a second, then takes one more step forward and pulls a bar stool out. Spike watches him do it, then goes back to the vixen. Xander sits. They turn their backs. Order is restored.


(no subject) - witling on September 24th, 2003 03:53 pm (UTC) (Expand)
Pet: nickBWapetslife on September 22nd, 2003 11:46 am (UTC)
you can just call this "And Spike Never Goes to LA". heh.
Completely off the cuff, but there's smooching and gasping. :-)

Spike tastes like ashes when Xander kisses him, in the doorway to his new apartment in Akron. Xander knows he's dreaming, and he's free to kiss Spike all he likes, in dreams.

Spike tastes like ashes and salt, and Xander licks sharp teeth. It's been a long time since he had a good Spike dream; Xander's subconcious apparently objects to surround-sound porn with vampires who've died heroically saving the world. Which Xander understands, sure, he gets that, but this is really nice and he's missed it. He's never slept with a man, but he didn't much feel the lack when he had tri-weekly dream visits from the most beautiful creature he's ever seen.

Spike's kissing him back, deep like a drowning man, hands like manacles around Xander's wrists, holding him pinned to the spot. It all feels very real, very good, and Xander's gasping for air by the time Spike lets go and steps back, one step, into the puddle of streetlight glow by Xander's door.

Xander's lips taste like ashes when he licks them, puzzled. Usually in his dreams they're naked by now, a vague blurry tangle of hands and bodies and cocks all rubbing and grinding and feeling very good, and this deviates from the normal script a little. But Spike looks too thin and really good, wearing jeans and a black sweater and with his hair a little too long, hands shoved deep into his pockets and staring at Xander like Xander has suddenly grown a tail. It's not out of the question, so Xander checks. No tail. Spike is still watching him.

When Xander tips his head and waves, Spike follows him inside. This is a very realistic dream. Xander can't wait to get to the naked part.

Spike doesn't say a word when Xander starts stripping him, standing quietly,and his eyes never leave Xander's face. That's not in the usual script either; usually dream sex with Spike is Xander's chance to be funny and clever and biting and for Spike to be funny and biting back at him, and they laugh together, and it's good. But this is quiet and slow and Xander puts his mouth on Spike's throat, licking carefully just like he's always wanted to, and Spike's head tips silently, and he reaches for Xander's body.

Xander realizes it's not a dream when he comes, screaming, and doesn't wake himself up. Spike follows him wordlessly, jaw clenched and hands like talons on Xander's back, digging deep. The sounds of the world waking up outside are suddenly deafening, and Xander can't think of a single word to say over the kettledrum beat of his own heart and the utter white noise of his confusion.

That's okay. Spike kisses him one more time, like ashes and salt, tears and dust, and slips back out the door before Xander can do more than blink, and when he wakes up again the next day, Xander thinks, well.

What interesting dreams I'm having again.
Anna S.eliade on September 22nd, 2003 11:50 am (UTC)
Re: you can just call this "And Spike Never Goes to LA". heh.
Ohhhhhh. I love you. You are a good girl.

*staggers off, dazed*
JaneDavitt: spikedownjanedavitt on September 22nd, 2003 12:05 pm (UTC)
So many kisses...

Sleeps kisses that coax him awake. Kisses that flutter and alight on a temptingly sweet target, making it swell with appreciation and pour out nectar as a reward for such an industrious bee... but maybe nectar is a bit too fancy an image and after all it isn't long before the delicate pressure of Spike's mouth turns avid and hungry and the bee stings, teeth scraping, tongue curling as it strips him of all he has to give...greedy bee...

Sudden kisses, Spike turning away from raptly watching a soap and cupping Xander's face, pulling him in to kis him firmly and fast before smiling with unaffected, simple happiness so that Xander's breath catches and he feels dizzy with fear and wonder.

Angry kisses, bruising and hard, stripping away pretence, demanding a response, commanding honesty.

Scary kisses when sky eyes blaze like the sun, and fangs flash like ivory knives and God help him, he wants to tilt his head just so and beg to be bitten...

Smoochy kisses that are never called that because hey, they're men and smooching isn't supposed to last more than thirty seconds, but that's what they are, long, endless kisses until lips are slicked and sliding, messy and gloriously so, teeth and tongues, gasps and moans,hands everywhere until it's too much to bear and the kisses stop because there's too much else to do...

Kisses on lips, on necks, on bellies, kisses on cocks that turn them to jellies, kisses that linger, kisses that burn, kisses each 'n every way they turn...

Anna S.eliade on September 22nd, 2003 12:53 pm (UTC)
I think that reading that calls for a smoke break. Sadly, I don't smoke. But the post-coital urge is still there. *g*
(Deleted comment)
Anna S.eliade on September 22nd, 2003 01:01 pm (UTC)
Oh yes, please. That's what I need. Must go sit down now. Head a little swimmy.
Darcy: xander's womendarcydodo on September 22nd, 2003 05:13 pm (UTC)
OK, can I hug you lots? {{{Mona}}}
LadyCat: workladycat777 on September 22nd, 2003 12:58 pm (UTC)
You ask, I provide. Although the rest were better. But here's some smut
drcdrc1 on September 22nd, 2003 01:00 pm (UTC)
It's not a new fic but I liked this a lot, maybe you do, too.:-) In case you haven't seen it before, that is.
drcdrc1 on September 22nd, 2003 01:10 pm (UTC)
And this Vamp!Xander fic is dark in parts but also fun, unfortunately unfinished but still a very enjoyable read (IMO anyway:-)): Fair Play by Illyria, set in Season 2.

And I Touch Myself is a brilliant and very, very funny Spike centric vid.
Anna S.eliade on September 22nd, 2003 04:09 pm (UTC)
Oh, this is a fantastic story so far (I'm just starting part 3) and I've never seen it recced before--thank you!! :>D
drcdrc1 on September 22nd, 2003 04:20 pm (UTC)
I'm so very glad you actually like this fic.:-)) Thanks for letting me know.
Too bad it appears that the story will probably never be finished ...
Anna S.eliade on September 22nd, 2003 04:38 pm (UTC)
I just finished what's there and it's bloody marvelous. What makes you think it won't be finished? I couldn't find a posting date. Is it an old WIP or newish?
drcdrc1 on September 22nd, 2003 05:39 pm (UTC)
Hmm, the author mentions that she wrote this to distract herself a little from the ending of S7...

Well, I found this fic several weeks ago, and after reading all the chapters posted at The Sandlot I searched the net for more. I believe I found out that the--so far--last chapter was posted months ago but I'm not so sure about that anymore. I should have tried to contact the author but I'm so bad with getting in touch with writers...

Anyway, while rechecking some mailing lists now I've found out that Illyria is miggy. Since her LJ is friends-locked I friended her, hoping that she'll friend me back. Maybe she has posted more chapters or even more S/X fic in her LiveJournal.

Sorry if I confused you with my previous comment.:-)

Again: I'm very glad you liked the fic. The S/X parts are so much fun, and I think her Spike voice is excellent.
Anna S.eliade on September 22nd, 2003 01:10 pm (UTC)
I hadn't seen it--thank you! :>D