sparklebutch

I posted my first Due South fic and my first Hard Core Logo fic on my DW
http://baronjanus.dreamwidth.org/
and probably many other things since I lasted updated here.

NCIS fic series Wake Up Call

Characters: Gibbs, Palmer, Ducky, Tony
Warnings (promises): Slash, kink

Work in progress series, but each chapter can be read as a finished standalone
one crossover with QAF UK
Best read in the order listed, not the order posted.

Wake Up Call: INDEX PAGE

First, the good things:

A short story, The Haunted Author

A good, uplifting news article on gender equality

Some disturbing but interesting images, Fallen Princesses

Yes, I opted out on the LJ linking thing. Let me know if there's any news on that.

Fiction:

The Art Of Seduction, Giles/Ethan

Suns And Guns, Spike, Wesley

Under The Unblinking Sun, Highlander, Horsemen

And a tiny SV drabble which Tastes Like Old Times, for a nostalgic chat.

The last proper fic I posted before this batch, not including Highlander drabbles and dribbles, was on March 22nd, 2009, it seems. It was Violet Sundown, a Giles/Ethan/Xander pwp.

( And now to the depressing, personal stuff. )

Was away for most of it. Did eight pieces, which can be found here [LJ] or all together here [IJ]. Mostly Buffy-Angel-Firefly, one Bible, one Labyrinth.

Enjoy fandom.

Here are the subjects of all posts by user [Unknown site tag]

the_obscure in April, 2008.

Fic: Death Mask
[BtVs]
Re Heathrow Terminal 5
[observation, bunny]
Fic: Memento Mori
[BtVS]
Fic: Private Affairs
[BtVS, sequel to "Unwanted"]
Spike and homophobia
[observation, BtVS]
The Gold Eye of the Yellow Goat
[a very messed up poem]
Painting
[art]
Tearoom: a short film
[rec]
Magic: A Fantastic Comedy
[rec]
FTM vid rec
[rec]
Squidge: A Call For Help
[take the poll]
Story Time
[fic, BtVS]
Revelation, 6:8
[Highlander, Beatles]
Reshamim
[My trip to the zoo]

And late March:

Mpreg
[two links to serious RL things]
Ficlet: Dick
[BtVS, indulging]
Summary/FAQ
[on LJ]
Carmina Burana
[link to funny]
Ficlet: Buttons
[BtVS, indulging]
In the Garden of Iden
[rec]
Fic: Unwanted
[BtVS; has sequel, "Private Affairs"]
The Curse of QWERTY
[things to think about]
Silly moment in the jungle
[somewhat Highlander related]

Photography, France, Assorted
Photography, France, Playground
Photography, France, Flowers
Photography, France, Hill
Photography, France, Castle
Photography, France, Forest
[These are all near home; they're the old batch, haven't posted newer ones yet]

Title: The Nature Of Felines
Fandom: Buffy
Pairing: Giles/Ethan, est.ship
Summary: Cali said, "Write cats." She also detailed. [note to self: rupertcats.txt]

( The nature of felines )

Title: Wet Behind The Ears
Fandom: Buffy
Characters: Giles, Wesley
Summary: an offer

( post stuff )

Title: Conifer
Fandom: Highlander
Characters: Silas
From

silvercobwebs: Silas, plant; here

He plants a tree and watches it grow, watches it become a giant, and then he watches it die.

He plants flowers every spring. Before he knows it, spring is around the corner again.

He plants those bulbous ones, flowers and vegetables, and they appear to die but every season they return.

Silas is never tired of it, never tires of nature. He plants another tree, and another. They are tall, they are strong. They grow for many years, longer than any other living creature, except him. Silas likes them, his silent companions. When they die, he chops them down and sets them on fire, to keep himself warm during long, hard winters. As the centuries go by, the forest becomes larger around him; leaves change colour every season, and the woods spread far and wide.

*
Methuselah
Prometheus

Title: Pygmalion Has Left The Building
Fandom: Highlander
Characters: Tessa
From

keerawa: Tessa, breakfast; here

Two blobs of clay, and one smaller one, around a large lump of the same substance. Tessa looks at the sculpture-to-be, and sees it complete.

Hiding in the wet mud, she sees a man, a woman, a child; they sit by a breakfast table. They are laughing, maybe sharing an anecdote. They'll seem so vibrant, so full of life. The woman has hair down to her shoulders. The man has longer hair than that. The artist already sees where she'll want to put the statue, on the grass in the middle of an open field, where they will have the sunlight almost all day long.

She starts working on the details of the child. Will it be a boy or a girl? She's not sure. Odd, she always sees her art so clearly, always working with a picture in mind, but the more she works on this small mass of clay, the more it blurs. It becomes murky, ambiguous. She can't figure out what kind of hair the child will have, or what it will wear. The more she tries to position its arms, the less she's sure; is the child holding a spoon? Is it holding hands with one, or both, of the larger figures? Or maybe just letting its arms rest on the table, like all kids do, like her own mother always told her not to - elbows don't belong on the table, Tessa!

She tries some more, but the more she works on it, the less like a child the statue appears. She's overworked the clay, ruined her own sculpture. There's only the man and the woman, and nothing more is left of the family breakfast.

Tessa chokes back a cry. She smashes the clay, squashing all the bits together until there is just one large mass, and no figures, no vision. She punches the clay until it is only clay. Breathless, she only looks at it for a long time.

Then she catches her breath. She adds water to the clay, and starts molding it again. This time, it's a statue of a woman, one single woman; Tessa sees in her mind's eye an amazon, standing solitary and proud.

Title: Over The Top
Fandom: Buffy
Characters: Spike, some Spike/Buffy (yeah, I know)
Prompt: From

keerawa: Spike, gratuitous; here
Second half added for Mary

Gratuitous violence, that's what Spike liked on his telly. Blood and gore. Even if it was gruesomely unrealistic - especially if it was gruesomely unrealistic, when he was in the right mood. Heads rolling on the floor with an almost comical sound. Monsters exploding, leaving goo and entrails all over walls and heroes. People beating other people up with sticks for breakfast. Good times. Bad cinema.

But late in the day, after a night of killing and mayhem, he'd curl on the couch or the bed and flip the channels until he'd find something else. He'd watch romantic movies and shows, where the hero took the heroine in his arms and kissed her tenderly, vowing his undying love. Gratuitous emotion, rampantly unrealistic. And all was right in his world.

Life isn't television. He thinks about that often. Life - unlife, at any rate; it's full of violence and blood and gore, which is just great, and also emotion, too much emotion for a dead man. He takes her in his arms and kisses her, and his heart doesn't beat but it feels just the same. The blood doesn't actually pump in his veins, but the reaction is similar. Chest expands, ears thumping, everything in his mind like an orchestra gone mad, higher and higher to a crescendo that shouldn't be there. He wants to die. Or, well...

Gratuitous wallowing in self-involvement, in involvement with *her*, her friends, her mission and her light; it feels all *wrong*. Like he should be sticking to the violence side, to the blood, the gore. Emotion is messier.

Title: Decent
Fandom: Buffy
Characters: Giles, Ethan
Dedication/request:

psychoadept
Vague song influence: "Bleeding Powers"
Count: one 100, two 100

-

Keeping on the straight and narrow, feeling his powers bleeding out constantly, replenishing and then drained away. Every day. Every day.

All alone. Never too late, optimistic by nature but the hours dragged slowly, the days never ended. The weeks. Months.

Getting old in this cell was beyond question. It will not happen to him. He'll find a way out and he'll find Ripper again, if only to get even. Only to get out...

Can't be that he was forgotten here. Can't be that Ripper doesn't think of him every night. Every single night. Ethan knows.

Ethan hopes.

Ethan's right.

-

It's not what he's expected, but he shouldn't be surprised. Giles gapes when Ethan uncrosses his legs, stands up and says, arrogant, casual as all fuck,

"Well, it's about time."

This heroic rescue mission required months of planning, half a dozen slayers and quite a lot of bribes. Giles was hoping for at least a thank you.

"I knew you'd come and get me," Ethan smirks. Walks past him and out of the cell. Giles follows.

Grasps his shoulder. Turns him around.

"What made you so sure?"

Ethan studies his face. "Not in your nature not to," he whispers knowingly.

-

[100][100]

Title: Desert Candle
Fandom: Buffy
Character: Ethan Rayne
Prompt:

all_unwritten #181 : "I've never been anywhere"

He's never been anywhere that was quite as nowhere as this. The Nevada desert stretched an infinity from one small dusty town to the next. When he stumbled into what seemed like a ghost town, tired and hungry, he found people living there. Actual, real people. Not a mirage. They gave him a sandwich and some fresh orange juice.

He keeps going, not sure why he doesn't try to stop one of the cars he sees twice, three times a day. Or why he doesn't try magic.

Oh, he uses magic all the time. He couldn't have survived otherwise. A fire at night, a sheen during the day to replace the sunscreen he doesn't have. And water. He keeps hydrated through magic alone.

He just doesn't use it to stop this continued existence of desert and aimlessness and wandering down the highway.

He drags his feet along the endless road of boiling asphalt into what looks from afar to be two shacks and a petrol pump. Up close, there's a very ornate metal sign claiming this proudly to be a city. Something City. The letters are half rusted off. He doesn't see anyone.

He's never been in a place quite as depressing as this.

Differently depressing, yes. He's been in small, bleak Northern English towns where it rained all the time and everything was grey, from the sky to the roofs to the people who lived under them. He's been locked in a house in Africa once, unable to leave until an attack of some kind of insects would stop. That one may have been partly his fault.

He's been at his parents' house for many years, but that was long ago.

He can go on. It's a long list. He's been, after all, in Sunnydale, California, a hellmouth.

He's been in prison. Not for long, but it was unpleasant nonetheless.

This, the desert, Nevada's vast empty nature, it's different. The clarity is in his brain. The sun in his eyes, the heat in his bones.

He encounters the bleached carcass of... a cow, he believes. He's not exactly a biologist. It's fairly large. Big skull. Empty eyeholes. He wonders what a cow was doing here all alone, walking by the side of the road.

With a short delay, the thought catches up with him and he laughs.

Wandering closer, he discovers the details, the beauty. Small purple flowers grow in the shade of the massive ribcage. A spider has woven its web in one eyehole and down to the jaw. Or maybe it was two spiders, being neighbours.

He's not sure, but he thinks some of the bones are missing. They probably are. There are things here, howling every night. They would've picked everything they could have, probably.

Two days later he finds the skull of what could be a small dog. He amuses himself with the thought it may have been a coyote, and he'll never know. He continues down the road.

Then turns back.

He takes the skull and carefully puts it in a small plastic shopping bag he took from the last pit-stop town. He'll take it with him. He'll find out, sooner or later, if it was coyote or just a dog.

That's the first time Ethan thinks about leaving this desert. About ending this journey. Returning to civilisation. He's tired of nowhere, of being a nobody in the middle of nothing.

Time to go back.

Title: Threadbare
Fandom: Buffy
Pairing: Giles/Ethan
Summary: young men, romantic evening in

There should always be a candle burning. It gives the lot a romantic feel. It's useful in case the power suddenly decides to fail. Plus you can always tip it gently over your lover's body and watch them hiss when melted wax hits their skin.

"And magic."

"And magic," Ethan agrees. "Candles are useful for that, too."

They kiss some more, by the candlelight. Open mouths, messy and wet, one hand on the back of Ethan's neck, fingers threaded in his hair. Other hand carrying his own weight, pressing against the carpet that leaves thread marks on his palm.

He doesn't know where Ethan's hands are, exactly; they travel. Fast and light, featherlike. Except when they pause here and there to squeeze, to pinch. Alternate, sharp and gentle, gentle and sharp, and isn't that just Ethan's style.

"Should always have some element of fire. And some water nearby, or wine in our case. The earth and the air are a given..."

More kissing.

"Now you're just," Ripper starts. Wants to say, you're just being pretentious, you're talking rubbish, must you push the bloody elements into everything. Doesn't say so, because Ethan whispers a word and the little flame on the candle nearest them starts to dance. Ripper watches, fascinated, until the view is obstructed.

Ethan tastes of the cheap wine and of come. It shouldn't taste as good as it does.

He ends up on his back, on the carpet, and slings his arm up over his head. Cold concrete floor, and he pulls his arm back in a hurry. Ethan's on top of him the whole time, kissing, tasting, touching. Making those small hungry sounds.

"Incubus," Ripper murmurs.

"Not quite," Ethan smiles against his chest, and just to make a point, bites him. Sharp teeth. Ripper arches, up and towards the pain. Opens his eyes, which he didn't know he closed.

The ceiling's cracked. Big wet patch in the corner. Ethan's warm against him, sliding up and down him like the best porn. Hard, lithe body. Sparkling eyes.

"Is there any point to it all?" Ripper wonders aloud.

Ethan licks, nibbles. "Have you gone existential on me, Ripper?", in between wet sounds.

"I'd want to marry you," Ripper says to the ceiling. His hand is in Ethan's hair again, but slips away when Ethan sits up.

"Some day," he says and it's almost serious. Might've been, except Ripper knows it's Ethan, and so can't be.

They make love on the filthy carpet, or at least that’s what it feels like at the time, in the moment. They make love and Ripper watches Ethan's face during orgasm, contorted and elated and completely unselfconscious. There is a moment in sex, brief and fleeting, where Ethan lets go. Ripper holds back as much as he can, just to capture these moments.

In the morning, the carpet is just a little bit dirtier than it was the night before. The candles all burnt out, and the only light is the measly grey filtering from outside through boards and broken glass. Ethan wakes and drags himself to a more comfortable corner.

Ripper lingers on for a few moments still, then joins his lover on the mattress. Curls around him, protective, protected. He's not sure. Their bed.

He falls asleep and doesn't wake again until evening.

Title: The Real Me
Fandom: Buffy
Character: Dawn
Summary: Five Things Dawn Might've Dressed Up As On [that first] Halloween

( five times )

Title: Five Random Unrelated Things Based On Ep Names Off This Other Show I Never Watched
Prompt list: Episode list for "Rescue Me" (2004)
Fandom: Buffy
Characters/Pairings: much Giles/Ethan
Time: borrowing from S8 but denying it fiercely; you'll see. Also using old-school methods and one thing with an actual plot hidden

Extra bonus:
Title: Unrelated Bit With A Ring
Fandom: Buffy
Pairing: Giles/Ethan
Note: pwp

( Five bits )

( and another bit )

Title: The Comforts
Fandom: Buffy post-, Angel
Character: Spike
Drabble: a 100 words

Being a vampire, he couldn't fully appreciate the rich, layered flavours, all the spices manipulating the taste buds. The nutritional value was, of course, lost on him. He could smell it, more than humans could; Spike inhaled the steaming clouds deeply, taking in all the comfort they could offer. He put the spoon back into the bowl, taking soup along with noodles, carrot and chicken, savouring the warmth, the distant echo of the taste. He wondered how much of the medicinal qualities attributed to it were psychological. Seemed to have helped him. It was, after all, good for the soul.

Title: The Breakfasts
Fandom: Buffy
Prompt: Mary, "Giles and Ethan and omelettes".
Drabble: a 100 words

They're yellow and soft, a bit runny on the inside, whisked briskly and poured to hiss and sizzle in the pan for too short a time. The smell is heavenly,

"Proteins burning,"

he says and smiles. Adds black pepper, and the melted cheese spills from the sides when he cuts into it.

"I like it," he says through a mouthful too hot, greedy first bite taken too hastily, "I like when you make me breakfast."

I like the normalcy, he means to say. The compassion, the kindness, however slight. It's love, he means to say. Love in the morning light.

Like all stories, it started with a kiss. Boy meets boy under moonlit skies. Boy looks deep into boy's eyes. Maybe there's music in the background, something with a low bass beat, something with hard guitars. Either way, boy and boy move together into the kiss, and the moment is like in the movies.

But boy and boy go back into the club after that brief break in the back alley, and there boy starts dancing with a girl, and the one he just kissed looks on and pointedly starts dancing with another man. Only his dancing soon becomes more than dancing. Boy who was dancing with a girl becomes agitated, and boy and boy have a very ugly shouting match over the loud noise inside. Boy drags boy outside to have the shouting match in a quieter setting.

Boy wants more than a kiss. Boy wants more than what boy can give, perhaps. He wants everything, he wants to be loved. He wants to love, if he can. Boy wants boy all to himself.

He demonstrates it badly, with a push and a shove and hissing insults into the face of the one he loves. Instead of pushing back, running, yelling, the boy melts under his assault, becomes pliant. Smiles and his eyes are half-lidded.

Rough hands pulling down too-tight jeans, eager fingers tear at clingy shirts in a hurried attempt to get them out of the way. Boy loves boy, boy wants boy. Boy takes boy, breathless and keening and whispering words, fervent words of devotion, love, apology, need, threats, promises.

Their arms are locked around each other. It ends with a kiss, like all good stories. A soft kiss under the early dawn's skies. Boy looks deep into boy's eyes. The beeping of a dustcart backing somewhere nearby can be heard over the noise of traffic starting to pour into the streets. And the moment is perfect.

Title: From Dusk to Dawn
Fandom: Buffy
Pairing: Giles/Ethan
Warning: Cat wanted, for a change, a vamp!Giles.

( small story )

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sparklebutch

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Entries tagged with fic

fic

NCIS fic series: Wake Up Call

Updates and collection of links

Porn battle

IJ posts, partial; May, June

IJ posts, April and late March

The Nature Of Felines

Wet Behind The Ears

Conifer; Silas, plant

Pygmalion Has Left The Building; Tessa, breakfast

Over The Top; Spike, gratuitous

Decent: drouble

Desert Candle; ficlet

Threadbare; Ripper/Ethan

Five Things Dawn... On Halloween

See, it's Valentine's, and I will post fluff.

Drabble about soup

Drabble about eggs

This Isn't A Love Story

From Dusk to Dawn; a short vampire story