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 Like the Dirty Rhythm You Play, .::|| Fae Boy ||::.
Buffy Summers
 Posted: Jun 25, 2015 | 10:45 pm
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Lilith

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For the life of her, Buffy couldn't remember when or how she had died again; because clearly she was in Hell.

The days had begun to blur together into a maddening spiral of absolute banality. There was nothing here... No purpose. No reason. No job. No friends. No life. Sunnydale was a culmination of everything she had already lived and experienced and felt and failed and regretted wrapped up in a Hellmouthian crunchy coating. But she couldn't leave. Because Sunnydale for it's soul-sucking mediocrity was her responsibility. Just because it was too stubborn to lay down and die didn't mean she could walk away. As long as the town stood, Buffy had to do the same as sentry and frankly fuck the Powers for doing it to her.

Why they thought it was right or fair to bring this place back from the rubble was beyond her but it didn't change the fact that she was being punished. It was bad enough she was back to the slavery of being the Chosen One (because apparently all the girls had decided they didn't want the job or if they did they were incompetent) but now she had to deal with this literal hellhole. It wasn't fair... Of course she learned years ago how much help complaining something wasn't “fair” got her. Prophecy Girl and all; fair didn't matter when it came to the Slayer. Too bad no one got the memo that she wanted to retire...

Of course that was the bitter irony of it all. She had to still stay here and play sentinel to the town that she had outgrown years ago. But the cruelty of it was how much nothing was happening. She couldn't get a job, with plenty of time for a social life she didn't have and a calling that wasn't even so much as lightly murmuring. Every morning it was the struggle of trying to find a job that pulled her out of bed otherwise she would just pull the blankets over her head and wish for oblivion to just take her already. This was maddening. If it wasn't so crushingly mundane she would swear it was the master plan of some terrible Big Bad a la The First to get her to walk into the proverbial sunset from boredom and misery alone.

She hated... living. The was no joy in her life anymore. No creativity. No light. No purpose. Just endless days of nothing more than existing in a world she knew first hand was unfeeling and cold. Her sister wasn't speaking to her. Her best friends had stopped speaking to her for who knows what reason. For a girl with a Destiny she was rotting, rudderless and purposeless and it was killing her every day. When the job search rivaled the bottom of a very deep barrel being scraped and still coming up bubkiss, Buffy took out a desperate measure. The flier was simple enough; clean and to the point and at least next to the others on the campus board it looked like it belonged. Even pretty if she was to be honest with herself. It wasn't as though she couldn't handle herself. And maybe having a person renting one of the rooms and staying with her would at least help the loneliness. She was dying for human contact and her heart couldn't take much more isolation before she started actually climbing the walls.

In truth; after a week of being up and no takers Buffy had promptly forgotten about her Hail Mary pass. Instead she was curled up in front of her TV with all her bills spread out in front of her on the coffee table like the scattered debt held some secret she merely needed to divine. With her head in her hands, the Slayer did the only thing she seemed to do right anymore. With quiet tears spilling down her cheeks and frankly too tired to wipe them away she soundlessly stood and moved to the kitchen to brew a pot of coffee. Leaning against the counter top she closed her eyes and tried to count to ten to calm down but she knew it wouldn't work since it hadn't the last fifty times she had tried.

As her pot brewed she snagged the small black pot from the counter and hopped up onto the counter with her slippered feet hanging down as she unscrewed the plastic and palmed some of the citrus cream into her palm. With steady strokes she massaged the lotion into her calloused warrior's hands before the sound of knocking behind her had the blonde bolting up onto her feet with adrenaline running high. It took a few moments before she remembered a certain asshole blond vampire breaking her front door beyond recognition with no Xander to fix it that anyone who came to see her needed to head to the back. It took another second oblivious as to why someone would come calling before she gave up trying to rationalize it when she could just ask instead. Hastily wiping the tears off her cheeks she turned around to face the door with glassy eyes (the only sign of her earlier commonplace mood) to open the door with only a bit of caution. She was still the Chosen One after all and any reservations she would have about her safety were long since doused. ”Yes? Can I help you...?”



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scríobhaítrying to write this was nigh torture... three hours and nothing... hopefully it doesn't suck completely

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céilíyour music list thing

ina dhiaidh sinmy fae boy

A D e l r i o u s D e s i g n by Tatia

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Val Fitzgerald
 Posted: Aug 27, 2015 | 9:27 am
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Home, the spot of earth supremely blest,
A dearer, sweeter spot than all the rest
Sunnydale, California.

One thing could be said about the Feds when they made a promise, they were keen on keeping it. Not for the first time, Val wondered if the founders of the massive intelligence and crime-fighting network that made up the dozen or so federal agencies that “protected” this star spangled country had any roots with the Fae or those touched by them. Sure, there was a lot of corruption and backhanded deals, but if there was a document in place with a signature or five places upon, that paper was just as good as any True Promise made by a monarch. It could be taken to the same level of “to the word,” too, which is why this Sidhe boy had been particularly careful with the phrasing of his own contract. The end result? He was a free man, at least from the chains of mortal, Ironside law.

As for the rest of his heated past? Well, that was why he was here, wasn’t it? That paper kept him safe from a jail cell, but as for anyone from Faerie… The Hellmouth was a good of place as any for him to hide out. Why it was back after it had been so loudly screamed to the hilltops that it had sunk into the desert that first shat it out in the first place was something he had no clues about. All he knew was that it was a beaming nexus for all things supernatural, which meant it would be easier for him to blend with all the other magical, infernal, celestial, and otherwise non-human elements of the world. Sunnydale was probably experiencing a reinvigoration of its supernatural population, like it had back in the late 1990s, and Val planned to hide right in the middle of it.

He didn’t want this life… Not this Iron-soaked one. Not this life on the run. Still, there was so much that he could do while he was here… The hybrid car that he drove through the California town seemed to be the only one that existed within the city limits. That actually surprised him. He thought he had heard somewhere that Californians were more environmentally conscious. It’s why UCSD even had such an extensive botany program. Well, either that, or the program was headed by some fern-demon, but Val would not say no to that, either. That was what college was about, wasn’t it? Expand his horizons? Save the world? Don’t get killed by an assassin or an errant berserker cultist?

There was one minor detail he had not included in his deals with the Feds, though. They had provided him with the means to enroll in school, but nothing about where he was going to live. Making a hollow for himself wasn’t really an option on account of a certain royal decree about what would happen to him should he ever return to the realm of his birth. Even just a hollow in some tree somewhere would have one foot too many in Faerie, and while Val didn’t like this life so much, he liked living more. The dorms were already well and full, and the waiting list was longer that he would see the end of in his considerably long natural lifespan. So, he would need to do this the old fashioned way: Finding a roommate!

And that brought him here. 1630 Revello Drive, and him double checking the tag that he had ripped off the general use bulletin board on the campus green. He remembered the leaflet. Pretty, he had thought, especially among the others. Most of the other leaflets were drawn with a heavy hand, and were not exactly marketable. He found his eye immediately drawn to the way that it had been constructed. There was a difference to it… So many of the other pamphlets were looking for roommates of convenience, people who needed to make due on the rent and could not do it themselves. This one, though, seemed to be asking for something else. He couldn’t tell how… maybe it was the way the marksmanship curved? Whatever it was, he took the tab with the address (huh… no number… so he couldn’t call ahead…) and was walking away before he had any real time to dwell. Action, no reaction…

His hemp sandals found rough purchase on the sidewalk as he made his way up to the house. The hybrid car was left to slumber in the road, full of what limited worldly possessions he had to his name. He was a bit of a walking cliché, with his unruly hair only recently untamed from the dreadlocks they used to fly in. He had a loss fitting clothes that suggested comfort over fashion, though barely. He was still conscious of how he looked, and dreaded the idea that the word “dirty” would ever be placed in front of “hippy” to describe him.

A brief look to the front door told him that he would not be going that way. Boarded and covered, it looked like it had weathered a better day. He double checked the address to be certain, and rerouted himself to find another door. The driveway seemed to offer another result, and he soon found a side door that looked like it was accessible. He also thought he could see movement and hear sounds coming from just the room beyond the door, so score one for him! Rechecking that his glamour was in place (no sense in striking some poor sap just for answering a door) but not too tightly (he also didn’t want to feel like he was wearing a mystical SCUBA suit) he knocked.

The door was answered soon enough, and he found himself immediately looking down at the figure in the frame. She was about 7 or 8 inches shorter than him, and he immediately had the sensation that he knew her from somewhere. He blinked a few times, not really being able to put a finger on it, but immediately met her gaze with soft eyes, even if he couldn’t hide the look of almost-recognition on his face. There was a look about her that suggested a sorrow, and he found it to be rather charming. He was certain that there were times when she must look brighter, but right now… She was like a forget-me-not planted in the shade of a weeping willow, lovely but… sad…

“I’m sorry if this is a bad time…” he said, suddenly feeling slightly bashful for just showing up on this woman’s doorstep in the middle of the day. “My name is Val Fitzgerald.” Not Ben Forester. Not anything else. New name. New place. New life. For now… “I’m here about the room to let?” He flashed her to torn off tab as if it was something that would grant him admittance to an amusement park, and grinned with a touch of hope. “As long as it’s still up for grabs…?”

notes: I can haz new home, plz?
words: 1159 | tag: Buffy

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Buffy Summers
 Posted: Mar 14, 2016 | 3:05 pm
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Lilith

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So she was the dumbest blonde in the history of dumb blondes. It took Buffy a few moments of staring confused before a series of revelations smacked her in the back of her increasingly dumb head; she had put up a flier looking for someone to rent one a room, she had a boarded up disaster for a front door, and all of that combined with her mildly grouchy and confused face had to have tallied up to being the worst first impression known in the history of mankind. The second he started to explain why he was there with his warm smile and deep voice Buffy felt an entirely different heat scorch her cheeks than the previous embarrassment. When he flashed the little piece of paper Buffy covered her face with her hands with a low bashful whine. ”Yes, I... No, I mean yes! I mean... come in please?” Words were a tangle her tongue and brain couldn't quite decipher. When speech decided to up and leave her without warning, Buffy simply hoped that opening the door wide enough for him to enter and gesture to the kitchen with as much poise as she could pretend to manage before closing the door behind him and resting her head against the wood for a heartbeat of self-deprecation.

This was bad. She was awful at this. There had to be a quota of useless that Buffy had reached or more believably surpassed by now, right? ”I'm so sorry. Just been incredibly distracted lately. Would you like some coffee?” With a task to busy herself with, Buffy moved to the now finished brewed pot as if on a mission. Scooping up the wooden slated rest that was her mother's, Buffy placed the scorching hot glass down before fishing out another clean mug from the cabinet with only the slightest of hops to reach it. She didn't have the heart to move them from where everyone had moved them when this place had been Slayer Central. It was a way to have all her loved ones still here, or at least have it ready if they were going to show up any minute like they always used to. Placing it in front of his seat at the kitchen island counter, Buffy moved to the fridge and found herself blocking the dismal empty sight with her body before pulling out the flavored creamer and closing the door with her hip as she reached for the sugar. ”Caramel and Honey Vanilla okay?”

Buffy tried to manage getting a bit of grace back as she poured the coffee into both mugs, focusing on not burning herself or making a bigger fool out of herself. She tried to remember what it was like to be the confident and capable Buffy, but it was far from her at this moment. She was really just overwhelmed when it came to it all. So she focused on her task, pouring the coffee for her potential new housemate. She moved to the sugar next, making sure to properly add whatever he wanted before making hers rather sweet. The creamer was last so that the sugar could mix in and dissolve with as little stirring as possible. She knew she was stalling or at least trying to find her footing after the horrible mistepping when he first arrived on her back porch but Buffy wasn't exactly sure how to fix it. She at the very least had until the coffee was poured and prepped and before she knew it, it was. Taking a deep breath, she picked up her mug; cradling it between her palms as she leaned against the sink, hips propped against the lip of the counter as she wrinkled up her nose. ”I'm sorry. About the door. The welcome. Everything. But the room is still available; if you think you can handle my frazzled brain I can answer any questions you might have?”


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scríobhaíbelated per your request but i need to get buffy active for the check and it's a short mess...sorry love.

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céilíhey mama – nicki minaj

ina dhiaidh sinmy fae boy

A D e l r i o u s D e s i g n by Tatia

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Val Fitzgerald
 Posted: Apr 12, 2016 | 1:41 pm
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Jax

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Home, the spot of earth supremely blest,
A dearer, sweeter spot than all the rest
When the awkward blonde welcomed him awkwardly into her home with her awkward way, he couldn’t help but feel a little… awkward. He couldn’t help it. He was a plant, and they tended to pick up on the energy of the people around them. Sometimes it made them wilt in homes of abuse and struggle. Sometimes it made them bloom when people were sad. Or, sometimes, it made sidhe men smile in a boyish, crocked way as they entered a house, with a slightly ducked head but high shoulders, while shoving a piece of paper in their pocket. He felt as if his hair was, in particular, becoming more of a mop-top than it already was, and his cheeks momentarily blushed with the color of roses.  

“Well, don’t take all the blame!” he said, his tone coming out as playful and boyish as his smile had been. “I could have called instead of just shown up, expecting you to be home.” He paused for a moment, and remembered there was an exact reason why he hadn’t called, and it made him get just a touch more embarrassed. Val may be centuries old, but there was so much of him that still felt like he was barely out of his budding years. “Except, I don’t have a phone… because I’m new to town… which is why I need a place to live… which is why I’m here. And now we are full circle!” Something that he could tell he learned from his extended age was to accept his awkwardness as a part of who he was. He couldn’t lose confidence because it was just a part of him he couldn’t get rid of, and frankly, didn’t want to change. It seemed to make people smile, to start, and that was enough for him.  

He entered the house when offered, and was immediately struck by the energy of the place. The entire room had a resonance to it that was so present that even he could feel it, even though he could not call himself psychic by any stretch of the imagination. It was… good; Like lying out in the sun on a spring day, taking in the warmth of the rays and feeling the grass between his toes. It wasn’t the warmth of baking or cooking, but it was the warmth of people. There had been so many people here, and this room in particular seemed to be almost completely untouched by anything truly negative. That was rare… but it was just how a hearth should be.  

He watched as his host moved around the kitchen, tending to give him some kind of hospitality. The fact that she was going through so much effort for someone who had just walked through her door was… sweet. He was fae, so there was always a part of him that was smitten with gracious hospitality, but she didn’t know that. It made it mean all the more to him. This was just… her. Mild awkwardness… genuine kindness… and large blue eyes that captured the sky.  

He was about to say something when he noticed the object that she took from the refrigerator. All right… so Val had a little bit of a problem. So, there was the normal fae inclination towards enjoying honey, and then there was Val. Just the sight of the word was enough to send a teasing tickle down his body. Now that was something that just might embarrass him in front of a new friend. He was pretty sure that she didn’t know what she was offering to him… And when she popped the top of the creamer, the fragrance of the sweet caramel with that delicious honey hit his nose hard. He had enough wherewithal to not make a complete fool of himself, but he had a choice to make: bite his lip, or let his eyes flutter up into his skull. The first one was probably a little less embarrassing, and he found himself doing it even as his body made the decision.   

He hoped he didn’t look to bad there, standing in her kitchen, biting his lower lip, and lifting himself onto the stool at the counter. He watched the cup as it came to him, smelling the milk of the creamer mixed with the honey and caramel, and she placed it before him. He reached for it, focusing on not looking too eager, when his hand lightly brushed against the back of hers. It was an accident, one that was a result of him moving towards the cup faster than she could retreat, but it was a… happy accident. Because the flutter of wings and feathers that he felt rush by him was more of a rush that the base feeling he got when tasting honey, and the smell of roses that filled the room was more wondrous than the milk and sweetness that lay in his cup.  

He watched her a moment, wondering if she had felt it, too. It hadn’t been long, lasting for only the moment that their hands brushed past each other. Two ships in the night, as the Ironside might say, but wasn’t that some proverb about people that meant little to each other? This was more than two ships, this was two comets, and they didn’t pass each other, they collided. But this was Ironside, and mortals did not feel as fae did. They could be blind to signs, or not have the tools to see them. Val, himself, was iron-sick and mostly blind himself, so this had to be important if Danu was showing him. But did she, the woman across from him, feel it, too? He knew first-hand the pain of mortal lovers for the fae soul. He had taken enough to truly know, so if Danu was showing him this woman… there was something more to all this.  

He pulled the cup closer to him, and inhaled it appreciatively. It did smell practically divine, and he could not resist the sip, with softly closed eyes and a warm hum deep in his chest. “All right, question one, how did you know my favorite?” he said with a smile as warm as the coffee. “Second question, do I smell roses? Because I have a bit of a green thumb, and a garden is just too tempting to pass up. Third, when do I get to see the rest, because I’m already sold on your hospitality alone. And also…”  

He leaned over the coffee cup, his words coming in before as playful and happy, and now turning to something with more meaning. His eyes looked over her face, tracing the curve of her chin and neck, before sliding along her shoulders. He was Sidhe and old habits die hard, but he still stopped himself before he undressed her completely with his eyes. Ironsiders didn’t like that so much…. So his eyes slide back up to meet hers. “You haven’t told me what  can call you.”

notes: I can haz new home, plz?
words: 1166 | tag: Buffy


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