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What I'm Writing (12/27/18)
This has been the week of the ficlet for me. I wrote an Angel Investigations Christmas scene as a backup gift for a Buffy-Boards Secret Santa participant whose Santa went MIA.
Let Nothing You Dismay
Cordelia’s eyes began to water as she lit the expensive candle Aura had sent as a holiday treat. It had a fresh, piney scent and she breathed it in, remembering years of happy Christmases in Aspen. Hot cocoa by the fireplace, thick snow on the slopes, tons of presents — each year's bigger and better than the last.
Now it was all gone. No tree, no decorations, no excitement about what surprises she'd be tearing open in the morning. No Christmas magic.
Her dear friend was dead. A guy she thought that she might actually...She pushed the thought away.
Doyle was gone, and now she had to worry that any second, her Christmas Eve would be even more ruined by the searing pain of a vision.
A total bust of a holiday.
She had made a long, nearly silent drive with her mom out to the minimum security prison where her dad was being held. They'd lasted through about 45 minutes of faux joy under the florescent lights before it was too much for them all. Cordelia wasn't surprised when her mom claimed a headache and headed home instead of coming back to her apartment to celebrate.
She was all alone.
Out of nowhere, Christmas music swelled through the room. She had to smile a little. She wasn't *completely* alone. She had her very own holiday spirit.
"Thanks, Dennis," she said. "But I'm not really in the mood, if you don't mind."
The radio clicked off. Soon her robe and slippers were floating through the air toward her. She slipped them on and slumped back into the couch, wondering if she should just go to bed and sleep this all away.
A noise like a dying cat sounded outside.
"God rest ye merry gentlemen, let nothing you dismay..."
She jumped to her feet, annoyed at having to interrupt her brooding for some pathetic caroler.
"Remember Christ our Savior was born on Christmas Day..."
She opened the door.
The lame caroler was Angel.
He cut off his singing immediately and held a paper bag out toward her.
"I know you said you'd be with your family," he said, eying her slippers, "but I thought I'd take a chance and just check." He looked back up at her, all twitchy and awkward.
Cordelia shook her head in disbelief and took the bag. "Come on in."
Angel followed as she walked across the apartment and set the bag down. She pulled out grocery store Christmas cookies, a red-wrapped gift, and some canned food. She held up one of the cans and raised an eyebrow at Angel.
"The Spam is a joke," he said. "There's a real ham out in the car with Wesley. If it's OK, I'll go wave them in."
Cordelia smiled her biggest smile, warmth spreading through her chest. "Angel, it's more than OK."
A vampire, a rogue demon hunter, a ghost, and vision girl? Seemed like just the recipe for a little Christmas magic.
And I posted a little post-Amends Buffy/Angel scene on Tumblr.
Comfort, If Not Joy
They finally came in from the snow-drifted streets when Buffy’s shivering got so intense that Angel insisted. He went to light the fire while she called her mother. He tried not to listen as she murmured things like, “shouldn’t be left alone right now” and “I know it’s Christmas, but.”
He had made up his mind to ask her to go when she came padding toward him in stocking feet, her perfect sweet Buffy nose still red from the cold, carrying two mugs of tea.
Then his chest squeezed and he couldn’t speak. After everything, he couldn’t be worthy of this cozy domestic scene, on Christmas no less. She should be disgusted with him. Instead her eyes glowed like the streetlamps on the new-fallen snow.
She handed him a steaming mug and sat next to him. He could practically feel her limbs thawing out, her skin growing rosy from the heat of the fire. Still he didn’t speak. The stress and horror of the last few days was fading a little and it left him weary. After some time had passed, a few minutes, a lifetime, he heard Buffy yawn beside him. Then she was setting their unsipped tea aside and leading him by the hand toward his bedroom, pausing only to let him tend to the fireplace.
Deep in his mind, the siren and flashing lights of danger began, but the feeling in his gut was steady. It would be OK.
“Pajama time,” she said sternly when they reached his room.
He didn’t usually sleep in clothing, but he put on a T-shirt and sweats in the bathroom. She had pulled back the covers on his bed and he submitted with a little amusement to being tucked in. God, she had his heart. She had burrowed deep into every bit of him.
She stood over the bed, her face thoughtful.
“Angel, we can’t…”
His mind filled in the rest of the sentence, remembering the silky feel of her skin under his fingers in their shared dream. He closed his eyes, willing the thought away.
“But that doesn’t mean you can’t take comfort in me.”
He looked at her, choked with love, as she lifted the covers and slid in next to him, still fully dressed. He let her pull him close, until his head was resting against her chest, her fingers running tenderly through his hair.
He couldn’t pretend his body didn’t respond to her, to the smell of her, to the chorus of her blood in its veins, and again he had to push away that vivid, delicious, terrifying nightmare. But once that was done, once he’d tamped it all down, he felt his body slowly unknot as he found a whisper of peace.
He wanted to stay awake, stay on his guard, but the sound of her heart thumping next to his ear was so insistent and so soothing that he lost his grip and slipped toward sleep.
I love you, he thought without being able to say it. And he knew that no freak snowstorm — even the unlife-saving kind — could ever be the miracle that she was.
I decided to do a series of little Season 3 B/A ficlets, since it's such a fertile ground for them. So far I've done Buffy's POV just before the kiss in Revelations and Angel's POV during the Bronze scene in Bad Girls. I also have a little post-The Prom scene I did several months ago. I'll probably post them all to Tumblr separately and then put them on AO3 once I have five to make a little set. I need one more, so if you have suggestions, let me know! They work great as little writing/character exercises.
In the Works:
Writing: Ficlets!
Outlining: The next scene in my B/A soulmate AU is a classroom scene. Since, in the Buffyverse, those always have thematic relevance, I want to make sure I choose well.
Dreaming about: The butcher shop AU! I rewatched So I Married an Axe Murderer this week, since the female lead is a butcher. Research! LOL. There weren't as many butcher shop scenes as I thought, but it was still fun. And dark romantic comedy is the same mood I'm going for. I think I need to play around and write a few little scenes to see how it goes before outlining in earnest.
Let Nothing You Dismay
Cordelia’s eyes began to water as she lit the expensive candle Aura had sent as a holiday treat. It had a fresh, piney scent and she breathed it in, remembering years of happy Christmases in Aspen. Hot cocoa by the fireplace, thick snow on the slopes, tons of presents — each year's bigger and better than the last.
Now it was all gone. No tree, no decorations, no excitement about what surprises she'd be tearing open in the morning. No Christmas magic.
Her dear friend was dead. A guy she thought that she might actually...She pushed the thought away.
Doyle was gone, and now she had to worry that any second, her Christmas Eve would be even more ruined by the searing pain of a vision.
A total bust of a holiday.
She had made a long, nearly silent drive with her mom out to the minimum security prison where her dad was being held. They'd lasted through about 45 minutes of faux joy under the florescent lights before it was too much for them all. Cordelia wasn't surprised when her mom claimed a headache and headed home instead of coming back to her apartment to celebrate.
She was all alone.
Out of nowhere, Christmas music swelled through the room. She had to smile a little. She wasn't *completely* alone. She had her very own holiday spirit.
"Thanks, Dennis," she said. "But I'm not really in the mood, if you don't mind."
The radio clicked off. Soon her robe and slippers were floating through the air toward her. She slipped them on and slumped back into the couch, wondering if she should just go to bed and sleep this all away.
A noise like a dying cat sounded outside.
"God rest ye merry gentlemen, let nothing you dismay..."
She jumped to her feet, annoyed at having to interrupt her brooding for some pathetic caroler.
"Remember Christ our Savior was born on Christmas Day..."
She opened the door.
The lame caroler was Angel.
He cut off his singing immediately and held a paper bag out toward her.
"I know you said you'd be with your family," he said, eying her slippers, "but I thought I'd take a chance and just check." He looked back up at her, all twitchy and awkward.
Cordelia shook her head in disbelief and took the bag. "Come on in."
Angel followed as she walked across the apartment and set the bag down. She pulled out grocery store Christmas cookies, a red-wrapped gift, and some canned food. She held up one of the cans and raised an eyebrow at Angel.
"The Spam is a joke," he said. "There's a real ham out in the car with Wesley. If it's OK, I'll go wave them in."
Cordelia smiled her biggest smile, warmth spreading through her chest. "Angel, it's more than OK."
A vampire, a rogue demon hunter, a ghost, and vision girl? Seemed like just the recipe for a little Christmas magic.
And I posted a little post-Amends Buffy/Angel scene on Tumblr.
Comfort, If Not Joy
They finally came in from the snow-drifted streets when Buffy’s shivering got so intense that Angel insisted. He went to light the fire while she called her mother. He tried not to listen as she murmured things like, “shouldn’t be left alone right now” and “I know it’s Christmas, but.”
He had made up his mind to ask her to go when she came padding toward him in stocking feet, her perfect sweet Buffy nose still red from the cold, carrying two mugs of tea.
Then his chest squeezed and he couldn’t speak. After everything, he couldn’t be worthy of this cozy domestic scene, on Christmas no less. She should be disgusted with him. Instead her eyes glowed like the streetlamps on the new-fallen snow.
She handed him a steaming mug and sat next to him. He could practically feel her limbs thawing out, her skin growing rosy from the heat of the fire. Still he didn’t speak. The stress and horror of the last few days was fading a little and it left him weary. After some time had passed, a few minutes, a lifetime, he heard Buffy yawn beside him. Then she was setting their unsipped tea aside and leading him by the hand toward his bedroom, pausing only to let him tend to the fireplace.
Deep in his mind, the siren and flashing lights of danger began, but the feeling in his gut was steady. It would be OK.
“Pajama time,” she said sternly when they reached his room.
He didn’t usually sleep in clothing, but he put on a T-shirt and sweats in the bathroom. She had pulled back the covers on his bed and he submitted with a little amusement to being tucked in. God, she had his heart. She had burrowed deep into every bit of him.
She stood over the bed, her face thoughtful.
“Angel, we can’t…”
His mind filled in the rest of the sentence, remembering the silky feel of her skin under his fingers in their shared dream. He closed his eyes, willing the thought away.
“But that doesn’t mean you can’t take comfort in me.”
He looked at her, choked with love, as she lifted the covers and slid in next to him, still fully dressed. He let her pull him close, until his head was resting against her chest, her fingers running tenderly through his hair.
He couldn’t pretend his body didn’t respond to her, to the smell of her, to the chorus of her blood in its veins, and again he had to push away that vivid, delicious, terrifying nightmare. But once that was done, once he’d tamped it all down, he felt his body slowly unknot as he found a whisper of peace.
He wanted to stay awake, stay on his guard, but the sound of her heart thumping next to his ear was so insistent and so soothing that he lost his grip and slipped toward sleep.
I love you, he thought without being able to say it. And he knew that no freak snowstorm — even the unlife-saving kind — could ever be the miracle that she was.
I decided to do a series of little Season 3 B/A ficlets, since it's such a fertile ground for them. So far I've done Buffy's POV just before the kiss in Revelations and Angel's POV during the Bronze scene in Bad Girls. I also have a little post-The Prom scene I did several months ago. I'll probably post them all to Tumblr separately and then put them on AO3 once I have five to make a little set. I need one more, so if you have suggestions, let me know! They work great as little writing/character exercises.
In the Works:
Writing: Ficlets!
Outlining: The next scene in my B/A soulmate AU is a classroom scene. Since, in the Buffyverse, those always have thematic relevance, I want to make sure I choose well.
Dreaming about: The butcher shop AU! I rewatched So I Married an Axe Murderer this week, since the female lead is a butcher. Research! LOL. There weren't as many butcher shop scenes as I thought, but it was still fun. And dark romantic comedy is the same mood I'm going for. I think I need to play around and write a few little scenes to see how it goes before outlining in earnest.
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