Afterdeath

[shapinglight]

Surpised myself yesterday by managing to write a Spuffy drabble. I really thought my Spuffy muse was dead and buried.

Setting: Season 6, just post-Afterlife
Rating: PG
100 words. Spike is angry.
For the prompt: Knocking on Heaven's Door (though only the Bob Dylan version, 'cos I hate Guns n' Roses, and it doesn't have much to do with the song anyway)
Also, I couldn't think of a title. Shows, doesn't it?

Afterdeath

( Read more... )

Afterdeath

[shapinglight]

Surpised myself yesterday by managing to write a Spuffy drabble. I really thought my Spuffy muse was dead and buried.

Setting: Season 6, just post-Afterlife
Rating: PG
100 words. Spike is angry.
For the prompt: Knocking on Heaven's Door (though only the Bob Dylan version, 'cos I hate Guns n' Roses, and it doesn't have much to do with the song anyway)
Also, I couldn't think of a title. Shows, doesn't it?

Afterdeath

( Read more... )

'A Thousand Ships Have Sailed' by Quinara.

[quinara]

This is another fic for my series of phone conversations between Spike and Buffy during/after AtS Season 5, where they're trying to build some sort of long distance relationship. This one's a bit gloomy, set a short while after NFA, PG for language but not including any content that would require a warning on AO3. 1000 words on the nose, apparently. For the 'Helen of Troy' prompt from the beginning of the month, but 'Demon Alcohol' would work as well.

A Thousand Ships Have Sailed.

She knew it was Friday night for him, but it was definitely strange hearing Spike so drunk at 10 AM, her time. Strange among other things.

“I luffew, Buffy, yeah?” he was saying if not bellowing down the phone attached to her ear. “I luffew more than any bloodthing in whole wide bloodfung world, and the buggriz, the bugger is, I know you care bowme too…”

Honestly, Buffy told herself, she’d only called to see if the slice to his stomach was healing – but now she was blushing, the kitchen growing too hot around her and her fluffy dressing gown.

( Across on the opposite side of the breakfast bar, Dawn raised an eyebrow, chewing on her toast. Buffy shook her head. )

'A Thousand Ships Have Sailed' by Quinara.

[quinara]

This is another fic for my series of phone conversations between Spike and Buffy during/after AtS Season 5, where they're trying to build some sort of long distance relationship. This one's a bit gloomy, set a short while after NFA, PG for language but not including any content that would require a warning on AO3. 1000 words on the nose, apparently. For the 'Helen of Troy' prompt from the beginning of the month, but 'Demon Alcohol' would work as well.

A Thousand Ships Have Sailed.

She knew it was Friday night for him, but it was definitely strange hearing Spike so drunk at 10 AM, her time. Strange among other things.

“I luffew, Buffy, yeah?” he was saying if not bellowing down the phone attached to her ear. “I luffew more than any bloodthing in whole wide bloodfung world, and the buggriz, the bugger is, I know you care bowme too…”

Honestly, Buffy told herself, she’d only called to see if the slice to his stomach was healing – but now she was blushing, the kitchen growing too hot around her and her fluffy dressing gown.

( Across on the opposite side of the breakfast bar, Dawn raised an eyebrow, chewing on her toast. Buffy shook her head. )

'A Thousand Ships Have Sailed' by Quinara.

[quinara]

This is another fic for my series of phone conversations between Spike and Buffy during/after AtS Season 5, where they're trying to build some sort of long distance relationship. This one's a bit gloomy, set a short while after NFA, PG for language but not including any content that would require a warning on AO3. 1000 words on the nose, apparently. For the 'Helen of Troy' prompt from the beginning of the month, but 'Demon Alcohol' would work as well.

A Thousand Ships Have Sailed.

She knew it was Friday night for him, but it was definitely strange hearing Spike so drunk at 10 AM, her time. Strange among other things.

“I luffew, Buffy, yeah?” he was saying if not bellowing down the phone attached to her ear. “I luffew more than any bloodthing in whole wide bloodfung world, and the buggriz, the bugger is, I know you care bowme too…”

Honestly, Buffy told herself, she’d only called to see if the slice to his stomach was healing – but now she was blushing, the kitchen growing too hot around her and her fluffy dressing gown.

( Across on the opposite side of the breakfast bar, Dawn raised an eyebrow, chewing on her toast. Buffy shook her head. )