The Printed Page is Not Obsolete
Sep. 11th, 2008 01:37 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
catkoCategory: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Summary: Four short fics; four men and books. Apologies for loose interpretation of the text. And of some of the characters, who by the way I do not own or gain from, except (belated) inspiration. For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
fantas_magoria , using several of the prompts, to catch up on four episodes at once.
I. Excerpt from the poem “In a Library” from Life by Emily Dickinson
A precious, mouldering pleasure 't is
To meet an antique book,
In just the dress his century wore;
A privilege, I think,
His venerable hand to take,
And warming in our own,
A passage back, or two, to make
To times when he was young...
…His presence is enchantment,
You beg him not to go;
Old volumes shake their vellum heads
And tantalize, just so.
II. Never Kill a Boy: His presence is enchantment…
He pauses at the door, looking in the circular window. Catching sight of his faint reflection, he fluffs up his hair more becomingly. Widens his eyes, breaks out the shy smile.
He's been trying to get up the courage to do this for weeks. Finally the moment seems right, the attraction irresistable. Maybe nothing will come of it; that's fine. Just to be near, and fantasize about the possibilities…
Getting ready to enter, he whispers to himself. "Emily Dickinson, lost my Emily Dickinson." That sounds good. After all, the guy is a librarian. What better way to the man's heart?
III. The Pack: And tantalize, just so…
Sitting hunched over the book, more intent than he's ever been reading anything that wasn't a comic or…other publication with colorful pictures. Recalls Willow talking enthusiastically: "Oh, Xander, it's so cool. About how we each have two sides, good and evil, like two different people inside us. And what happens when that evil side comes out." Himself, thinking on a teen-age lifetime of self-control in a household full of rage, shrugging. Believing that if you keep it in long enough, it'll just go away.
He squeezes the book in his hands, remembering Buffy's shoulders as he pushed her down. The sharp smell of hurt from Willow; high, carnal squeal of the pig; heat roiling in his gut. Tries to focus again on the words on the page, blurry now. Taking a deep breath, he says it to himself, like a mantra. The Superior Xander. The Superior Xander. Yeah, that's it.
IV. Angel: A passage back, or two, to make…
He'd taught himself to read, thinking that since he had a soul, he might as well improve his mind. And his lifestyle included ample leisure time. Even patrolling, he carried a volume of poetry in his pocket. Fighting the undead was mostly waiting around.
So, hiding out in Buffy's bedroom, he had the book ready to hand. Tried to settle down on the bed…no, the floor—oops, the closet!—and not breathe in the sweet scent that lingered around her clothing. Later, emerging, he spotted a leather-covered book on the desk. Reaching out, he wondered: what does a high-school girl read, anyway?
V. Me Robot, You Jane: To times when he was young…
It was the smell, the musty aura that rose up when he opened a book, whether a book of poetry, a Victorian novel, or even the Watchers' diaries in his private collection. Reminding him of his youth, mingled enjoyment and irritation, disciplined to read ancient tomes to prepare for his life's work. He remembers hiding adventure stories of RAF pilots inside the Vampyr while his father read in the other armchair, occasionally glancing over to be sure he was studying.
Now, stacking copies of the new Anne Rice, he fingers the smooth, curly metal piece in his hand. Maybe time to stretch his legs a bit.
Summary: Four short fics; four men and books. Apologies for loose interpretation of the text. And of some of the characters, who by the way I do not own or gain from, except (belated) inspiration. For
fantas_magoria , using several of the prompts, to catch up on four episodes at once.I. Excerpt from the poem “In a Library” from Life by Emily Dickinson
A precious, mouldering pleasure 't is
To meet an antique book,
In just the dress his century wore;
A privilege, I think,
His venerable hand to take,
And warming in our own,
A passage back, or two, to make
To times when he was young...
…His presence is enchantment,
You beg him not to go;
Old volumes shake their vellum heads
And tantalize, just so.
II. Never Kill a Boy: His presence is enchantment…
He pauses at the door, looking in the circular window. Catching sight of his faint reflection, he fluffs up his hair more becomingly. Widens his eyes, breaks out the shy smile.
He's been trying to get up the courage to do this for weeks. Finally the moment seems right, the attraction irresistable. Maybe nothing will come of it; that's fine. Just to be near, and fantasize about the possibilities…
Getting ready to enter, he whispers to himself. "Emily Dickinson, lost my Emily Dickinson." That sounds good. After all, the guy is a librarian. What better way to the man's heart?
III. The Pack: And tantalize, just so…
Sitting hunched over the book, more intent than he's ever been reading anything that wasn't a comic or…other publication with colorful pictures. Recalls Willow talking enthusiastically: "Oh, Xander, it's so cool. About how we each have two sides, good and evil, like two different people inside us. And what happens when that evil side comes out." Himself, thinking on a teen-age lifetime of self-control in a household full of rage, shrugging. Believing that if you keep it in long enough, it'll just go away.
He squeezes the book in his hands, remembering Buffy's shoulders as he pushed her down. The sharp smell of hurt from Willow; high, carnal squeal of the pig; heat roiling in his gut. Tries to focus again on the words on the page, blurry now. Taking a deep breath, he says it to himself, like a mantra. The Superior Xander. The Superior Xander. Yeah, that's it.
IV. Angel: A passage back, or two, to make…
He'd taught himself to read, thinking that since he had a soul, he might as well improve his mind. And his lifestyle included ample leisure time. Even patrolling, he carried a volume of poetry in his pocket. Fighting the undead was mostly waiting around.
So, hiding out in Buffy's bedroom, he had the book ready to hand. Tried to settle down on the bed…no, the floor—oops, the closet!—and not breathe in the sweet scent that lingered around her clothing. Later, emerging, he spotted a leather-covered book on the desk. Reaching out, he wondered: what does a high-school girl read, anyway?
V. Me Robot, You Jane: To times when he was young…
It was the smell, the musty aura that rose up when he opened a book, whether a book of poetry, a Victorian novel, or even the Watchers' diaries in his private collection. Reminding him of his youth, mingled enjoyment and irritation, disciplined to read ancient tomes to prepare for his life's work. He remembers hiding adventure stories of RAF pilots inside the Vampyr while his father read in the other armchair, occasionally glancing over to be sure he was studying.
Now, stacking copies of the new Anne Rice, he fingers the smooth, curly metal piece in his hand. Maybe time to stretch his legs a bit.
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no subject
Date: 2008-09-11 12:23 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-09-12 03:35 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-09-11 03:28 pm (UTC)Beautiful.
no subject
Date: 2008-09-12 03:36 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-09-11 03:33 pm (UTC)Gabrielle
no subject
Date: 2008-09-12 03:36 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-09-11 07:43 pm (UTC)Owen primping and practicing his opening line to make a pass at Giles?! Delightful.
Xander reliving actions he can't share with anyone was beautifully described. This was a haunting line: He squeezes the book in his hands, remembering Buffy's shoulders as he pushed her down. The transition from the library to pack memories and back again was wonderful.
So, Angel did go for Buffy's diary. I loved this: Fighting the undead was mostly waiting around. Buff would certainly agree, though I doubt she would think to bring a book.
Giles sneaking adventure stories in Vampyr gave me a grin.
no subject
Date: 2008-09-12 03:38 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-09-12 05:59 am (UTC)The poem could also be describing Angel, I think. It was a perfect choice.
Loved them all, and the one with Owen made me laugh. It was Giles he was attracted to. Hee!
no subject
Date: 2008-09-12 06:33 am (UTC)