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I have now watched all 3 (three) episodes of Firefly. Barring one real Issue, I like it muchly. I see a great deal of room for fiction surrounding it, which is the important thing. I think there will be lovely chemistry between all the characters.
Hope it survives.
And.
This strange idea burbled up in my head.
Not put together yet. But. Spike and Xander are troubled this season, and I thought about what it would be like in Spike's head.
OUCH.
Twisting Anew
The underbelly of the beast is a beautiful, a terrible thing. I know it well, and I plan to know it better in the future. I’ve been waiting a long, long time wrapped in shadow and pining for the sun. When I break my way to freedom I will rise from the abdomen of my slayer and I will feed, the way he fed upon my blood.
I know that I need to stop wandering off, in my mind. Because there are, there were, there will be a pattern and I am the mind to discern. I am Spike. I am the Big Bad and what?
You are Xander. I remember you, but we’ve never met before. The beast loves the monster killer girl. I think I would have loved you. Black night eyes and hero smile.
“There you are. Get up, Spikeless Wonder. There is a mission to be had, pleasing her masterfulness. She wants you to sniff a trail again.”
Don’t hit me! Please, please I will do anything. No more hurting.
“Spike. Spike, wake up. Did I miss something here, where you received the magic mind-scramble again?”
::sound of shuffling feet::
“If it isn’t the Slayer’s tame puppy. Piss off, whelp.”
No! The beast is awake.
“No! Don’t listen to the beast. I am a poet, let me tell you what you are.”
“…”
“Or sod off, whichever comes first.”
“Riiiight. Okay, sodding off, check.”
::sound of running feet::
One down, 3 Slayer-pets to go. Alright, listen up William or whoever you think you are. I’m the one in charge of this here body. I’ve been here over a century, a sight longer than you have.
“He has raven hair. No, locks, raven locks. And eyes of the deepest midnight. And…”
Oh bloody hell. He’s got control of the body again. Now he’s off to woo Xander “Go on without me while I eat this jello” Harris. The boy salivates every time he sees me without a shirt. Some fight he'll put up.
"I dream of darkness/yet you surround me/ in true love/my heart doth pound me..."
Bloody, double-cursed hell. It’s bad enough putting up with a mental flatmate. It’s bad enough that he’s a poofter. Does he have to write bloody poetry as well?
This is the bare-bones bunny for a story, and I may or may not write it in full. It will hurt a lot coming out if I do, so. Maybe. But I place it here so I will be forced to make a decision.
'Nough rambling, night lovelies.
Hope it survives.
And.
This strange idea burbled up in my head.
Not put together yet. But. Spike and Xander are troubled this season, and I thought about what it would be like in Spike's head.
OUCH.
Twisting Anew
The underbelly of the beast is a beautiful, a terrible thing. I know it well, and I plan to know it better in the future. I’ve been waiting a long, long time wrapped in shadow and pining for the sun. When I break my way to freedom I will rise from the abdomen of my slayer and I will feed, the way he fed upon my blood.
I know that I need to stop wandering off, in my mind. Because there are, there were, there will be a pattern and I am the mind to discern. I am Spike. I am the Big Bad and what?
You are Xander. I remember you, but we’ve never met before. The beast loves the monster killer girl. I think I would have loved you. Black night eyes and hero smile.
“There you are. Get up, Spikeless Wonder. There is a mission to be had, pleasing her masterfulness. She wants you to sniff a trail again.”
Don’t hit me! Please, please I will do anything. No more hurting.
“Spike. Spike, wake up. Did I miss something here, where you received the magic mind-scramble again?”
::sound of shuffling feet::
“If it isn’t the Slayer’s tame puppy. Piss off, whelp.”
No! The beast is awake.
“No! Don’t listen to the beast. I am a poet, let me tell you what you are.”
“…”
“Or sod off, whichever comes first.”
“Riiiight. Okay, sodding off, check.”
::sound of running feet::
One down, 3 Slayer-pets to go. Alright, listen up William or whoever you think you are. I’m the one in charge of this here body. I’ve been here over a century, a sight longer than you have.
“He has raven hair. No, locks, raven locks. And eyes of the deepest midnight. And…”
Oh bloody hell. He’s got control of the body again. Now he’s off to woo Xander “Go on without me while I eat this jello” Harris. The boy salivates every time he sees me without a shirt. Some fight he'll put up.
"I dream of darkness/yet you surround me/ in true love/my heart doth pound me..."
Bloody, double-cursed hell. It’s bad enough putting up with a mental flatmate. It’s bad enough that he’s a poofter. Does he have to write bloody poetry as well?
This is the bare-bones bunny for a story, and I may or may not write it in full. It will hurt a lot coming out if I do, so. Maybe. But I place it here so I will be forced to make a decision.
'Nough rambling, night lovelies.
