There's a bit of guess the fandom, plus a few unfinished works I have yet to show the world...
"They come," Illyria pronounces out of the blue, her words weighty and bitter as they echo through her vast and vacant halls.
“Hey Max sugar, can I borrow yo silver top?”
"I'll see you in hell."
The cheap plastic chair creaks as Alec leans over, scraping the polished floor loudly enough to make Max wince in case it draws too much attention.
Alec ducks into her personal space and licks her along the lobe of her ear.
First gone, after blood has boiled dry and torn flesh begins to peel from ragged bone, are fragments of memory, the vital building blocks that make him Dean stripped away and disposed as junk.
Sometimes the future feels so close; a breath, a blink, a heartbeat away.
"Ssh!" Buffy hisses and snatches the cards back. "Just one game, I said."
When Spike returned, Buffy found her missing piece.
The darkness is the kind that swallows light. So she doesn’t bother with the torch.
The girl is painted pale, kohl circled eyes stark against pasty flesh that disappears under the big black hair.
”I do not like this activity named ‘Karaoke’.”
“Ugh.” Angel twisted his face as he grunted, his expression contorting with strain.
As still as the statues lining the piazzas, Buffy stands hidden from the bustle of the villa in a secluded corner of the gardens.
While she works, Chrissie likes to people-watch.
When Buffy's eyes fall shut, she's already halfway to oblivion.
In the dim light of a darkened room, Wesley's life crumbled to dust.
“Spike!” a breathless voice gasped in a ragged whisper. “Yeah, there… Oh. Oh my god right there… Yes!”