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Words Like Winter: A Writing Journal

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drabbles by request. [Feb 28 2008 / 5:28pm]

For xenachakram12:

I like Spike/Dawn romance where she is the aggressor. I did my best with that. It went in a completely surprising direction, so I hope you still like it.

The butterflies appeared in Dawn's belly when Spike and Angel showed up at her door in Rome. They threatened to lift her up into the air and set her adrift on the balmy Italian breeze, and they had nothing to do with the dark-haired elder vampire.

"Stay," she'd said, putting her hand on the dark wood of the doorframe, when they were leaving.

"Can't," he said, with a glance at Angel, who politely looked away. "But I'll come back."

The next time he was in Rome, they went to a restaurant and Spike said he was sorry and Dawn said she forgave him and then she kissed him over a glass of vintage chianti. Spike pulled away, mouth opening to ask a question, but the look in Dawn's eyes, like blue fire, stopped him. Of course she was sure. And she leaned forward again.

For burnzitt:
Dawn comforts a drunken Spike (any season). I'm rusty, but here's what I've got.

Her footsteps crunched over dead leaves, tiny shards of glass and what may have been small animal bones. Dawn looked at the glass and was reminded of a fairy story where a girl had to rescue a boy whose heart carried a sliver of ice from a beautiful queen of snow and cold.

It didn't snow in Sunnydale, not really, but Dawn still thought she could relate.

The crypt smelled like something sharp and spicy, vaguely bitter. Dawn wrinkled her nose. Rum, whiskey... bourbon? Did it matter what the vampire's poison of choice was? She scuffed her foot against the floor.

A groan from the bed sent her wandering in that direction, where she found Spike, sprawled on his back against the mussed sheets. He lifted his head, squinted at her and collapsed again, making a noise that was between a moan and a laugh.

She knelt on the bed, then tumbled forward to fall into the space between his outflung arm and his body. Propping herself up on her elbows, she lifted a half-empty bottle of a dark amber liquid from his hand, sniffed it, grimaced and took a sip. Then she tucked her head into the curve of his shoulder and rested her small hand over his still heart, imagining the warmth from her skin seeping into his blood and melting that cold shard of ice.

For vampirelady:

Show me what it's like; To dream in black and white. Lyric from Unknown Soldier by Breaking Benjamin. Not quite what the song intended, but the conversation that popped into my head had to be written.
He found her perched on the back steps, a cigarette glowing red between her fingertips. He smelled her before he saw that it was her, all smoke and spice and something childish, like clean laundry and vanilla shampoo.

"Your sis's throwin' a fit," he said, lowering himself down next to her. She just looked at him, eyes as wide and luminous as the moon that illuminated them. "Y'know what time it is?"

"Three after midnight," she said, her voice hoarse. He didn't know what to say to that, so he took out his pack and lit his cigarette off of hers. She leaned her head on his shoulder.

"Do you dream?" she asked. He could feel the delicate bones of her cheek moving against his arm. She exhaled smoke into his jacket.


"In color? Or in black and white, like film noir?"

He glanced down at her, surprised. "Don'know. Reckon I never noticed."

"I dream in color," she said, her voice wistful. "Like California. But I wish I dreamt in black and white, you know, like old Hollywood." She gestured aimlessly in the air, her cigarette trailing a thin curl of smoke behind, but he understood what she was trying to say.

For girlmacbeth:

dawn and spike renew their friendship post both series and then become lovers. Simple enough. ;)

It was raining when Dawn landed in London. Spike met her just outside of Heathrow, holding a giant black umbrella over her head. She felt uncomfortable next to him - too much had passed, he'd died, come back, almost died again, almost became human - and the distance between them seemed to her like a chasm that they had to shout over. Send smoke signals. In the cab ride to the Watchers' Headquarters, he was quiet, but she, always the perceptive one, felt an aura around him, a cloud of feeling that was different from anything he'd ever felt like. She reached out, touched his arm. He looked up in surprise.

She looked at him, and wanted to say something like, it's okay, or, I forgive you, but there was no need for those words anymore. She knew, and she could tell from the shift of emotions across his fine-boned face, that he did too.

It was a week later that she crept into his room and perched lightly on the edge of his bed. With forgiveness came wistfulness about lost time, then friendship as they recounted their missing years to each other in smoky pubs, then her old yearning, uncurling in her chest like a rusty dragon, long out of use and all the more eager for it. She balled the comforter in her fists. Spike stirred, raised himself on one elbow. His hair was tousled and dark. Dawn bit her lip.

He held out his arm.

My lovely rachel2205, yours is soon to come.

Hope you guys enjoyed.

That Little Bomb: A Dawn Summers Mix [Aug 30 2007 / 6:09pm]


Remember the 5th season of Buffy, where they introduced the annoying little sister that nobody liked? She whined and she got into trouble and she was generally kind of useless. But she got sort of cool in the 7th season, and really grew on me overall. I loved that it was Dawn who spoke the last words of the show, and I always felt like she had a lot more potential than was explored on the series. In the end, we see her as being good with languages and a decent fighter. So if we gave her a little more credit, what could she do?

However much I love older, darker, stronger Dawn (and play one quite frequently to explore that potential that was hardly tapped on the show), however, this is a mix for canon!Dawn, that insecure, confused teenager. A lot of 90's music, maybe some stuff that Dawn would've listened to herself. Some songs covering her relationship with the rest of the Scoobies. And a few for the woman that she would surely become.

That Little Bomb: A Dawn Summers Mix.Collapse )

Against the Stars: A Daphne Greengrass Fanmix [Aug 02 2007 / 4:55pm]


Against the Stars: A Daphne Greengrass Fanmix.Collapse )

stopwatch hearts. [Feb 25 2007 / 11:20pm]

The first time I saw her was at a party. She had pale, pale hair and green eyes like the first spring buds. I was never much of a poet, but I wanted to write poetry about her eyes.

She went home with me. I still don't know why.

Afterwards, when she was getting dressed and I was lying in bed, watching her (although it seems that our roles should've been reversed, her lying in bed, satisfied and sprawling, me scurrying to get dressed) I asked if I could see her again.

"Don't call us," she said with a smile. "We'll call you."

I called her anyway. She was laughing when she picked up the phone, and there were social noises behind her voice - male voices, the clink of glasses, soft jazz music.

"Yes?" she said, sounding petulantly impatient. I felt my heart sink in unreasonable fear. After all, she was just a girl.

"Hello," I said, willing my voice not to shake. "We met at that party the other night. I was wondering if I could see you sometime. Maybe drinks? Dinner?"

There was silence. She seemed to be considering it.

Then there was raucous laughter behind her and she laughed too, and I knew she hadn't been thinking about it. "No," she said, not meanly, just carelessly, and hung up the phone.


The next time I saw her, her hair was longer and paler and she was thinner, her muscles wiry, and her eyes just as green. Her name was Daphne, or maybe Lilia. I wondered if she recognized me. She had a gun trained on my back and I doubted she'd want to admit that she knew me.

I thought of making love to her, her snow-pale body stretched out in the moonlight. She was a lazy lover, she had allowed me to do all of the work as if it was a favor, her letting me make love to her. And it was, I was giddy, delirious with joy, I couldn't believe my good luck. Here was this beauty, this winter goddess, her hair finer than spun silk (not that I had ever seen any, but it seemed like a good metaphor at the time), her limbs more delicate than fine china. I was delicate with her, I was afraid to break her, to damage that perfect skin. She had laughed, I remember, at the concern that must've been plain on my face and wrapped her legs around my waist. I hadn't lasted long, after that.


"Why her?" Alec asked, in between hearty swigs of ale. "You said she was lazy, inconsiderate. She hadn't called and she didn't give a shit that you did. She was a bitch. So what was so special about her?"

I shrugged. There was no way to put it into words.

Tea and Cigarettes: A [Bittersweet] Draco/Ginny Fanmix [Sep 19 2006 / 11:20pm]


Tea and Cigarettes: A [Bittersweet] Draco/Ginny Fanmix.Collapse )

Cry Little Sister: A Spike/Dawn Fanmix [Aug 10 2006 / 12:35am]


Cry Little Sister: A Spike/Dawn Fanmix.Collapse )

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