my heart arranges

[dodyrecs]

#17 [sing it]

• Seven Languages by yin_again (Spike/Xander): The fourth time was in the closet, but neither one laughed at the joke. Spike wasn’t even sure if Xander was real at first. When he decided that he was real, Spike prayed for the first time in a hundred years, thanking whoever was listening for letting him feel warmth and want and kindness again.
• Lessons in Cool: That Music Thing by dessert_first and tesla321 (Xander/Oz): So now Xander is sitting on his front steps, guitar in hand, waiting for Oz to pick him up and teach him a few other things about guitars. Like maybe how to play one.


• Kyrie Eleison by kyrafic (Angel): It's been centuries since he rose before dawn to walk to Mass, blowing plumes of white breath ahead of him into the cold darkness. He can barely recall the feel of the wafer on his tongue and the details of the priest's robes grow hazy in his mind.
• Ballad of Ira Hayes by julia_here (Xander): Everyone else was in Europe; but Europe was just another nowhere to him; his friends were no longer his definition of home, and after a few years in the great strangeness below the Sahara he’d ceased to value novelty. His home town was at the bottom of a crater, but there was a whole country full of Toys R Us and Starbucks and multiplexes, McDonald’s and Wal-mart, and that stuff was as close to home as he was ever going to get.
• Shelter by mosca (Wes/Angel): All Wesley could think at this point was, "Please don't say 'White heat,'" because then he was going to have to say "Velvet Underground" back, and all semblance of seriousness would be lost. And he wanted to be sympathetic. He was starting to care about Angel's morose bullshit for the first time in a long time, and he wanted to keep caring.


• descant descending by macha3 (Buffy/Spike): function. this is a dance of levels, and of levelers, and those who stand and wait. these are the gates she means on his behalf to shatter. this is the day the doors on the stairway down can all be entered. in this ritual she gives over everything she has and is reborn. when she has paid her price and finally stands naked, she will be clothed in power. this is a story older than the world. this is the game that she was born to play.
• Opus by zortified (Giles/Oz): He can't quite figure out the melody though, and he's getting closer to asking Giles if he'd help. Oz wants this written, wants it finished and to sing it just once before--
  
  But maybe if he never finishes it, it will be his portrait against mortality.
• the great cereal mastemind by amand_r (Andrew): In the best of times, you're a feeb. No really. You are. Everyone knows it. They even say it to your face.
• Threnody of Wildflowers by Yavi Asad (Buffy): "Tell me something I don't know. About you."
  
  "I like wildflowers. All kinds, but golden poppies the best. You know, the kind that grows all over California."
  
  "Why?"
  
  "Because they're yellow."
  
  "You like yellow?"
  
  "Not particularly."
  
  "That's a dumb answer then."
  
  "'Sa dumb question, Buffy, you either like something or you don't. There are no reasons."
• listen to your heart bleed (and I feel fine) by annakovsky (Giles, Spike, Buffy): "I... you remind me of someone I used to know," Giles says.
  
  Buffy tilts her white head and looks at him. "You're, like, a psycho stalker or whatever, but I don't get it. I feel, I dunno, safe with you. Secure, or something."
  
  "Really," Giles says. Maybe there is some of her left after all.