Fic Post: Angel Femmeslash Ficathon Darla/Drusilla for Chloestorch
God this is so horrifyingly late. I really am sorry.
Title: What it's Like for a Girl
Author: Evette (geekthegirl8@hotmail.com)
Summary: Uh I got the idea for this when I was watching the movie Sunshine (a movie with all nature of incest/family issues that I got way too many fanged four-y thoughts). Basically I picked out various roles of a woman and wrote around them. The Widow, The Daughter, The Mother, The Seductress all about Drusilla. Darla/Dru. (with some brief Darla/Angelus, Drusilla/Angelus, and Spike/Drusilla mentions. Sorry :( )
Rated: Very light R for mild violence and sex
Thanks to aphedas for the beta. and again really really sorry about my lateness. *sighs*
Disclaimer: yeah, not mine.
The Widow
Drusilla has a lovely bruise across her stomach now. It's light blue - going so well with the pink burns that Angel put across her. Fire, another one of ashes turned golden. She comes back to Darla who sits now in the dark with a drink in her hand and a brown haired man down in her lap. She stands there, in the doorway, watching as Darla's hand tightens around the glass; her feet pushing into the floor. After daughter screams and moans, before the boy is even up from the floor, his neck is cracked and Darla drinks. But Darla's eyes are dead, filled with faded fire and tears that smell of sorrow. She understands that deadness, watching little boys turn away, gone forever, as they turn to ash in your hands. They sit together on the couch; Drusilla entwines her hand with Darla's as they both look down at the limp body in the floor.
"The boys always die and leave, don't they?" and she needs to know because this seems to be the way, doesn't it? Daddies, knights, and all the others, leaving Drusilla's game early.
"The good ones do," Darla answers back, and she pulls Dru's face down into her breast. “It’s the ones that stick around that you have to worry about”
**
The Daughter
Drusilla used to hear stories about pretty princesses and Daddy told her she was one on Sunday morning when her mother tied ribbons in her hair. He made her fly, calling her his pretty girl.
Pretty ribbons are tied around her hands now; that’s what this daddy does as he cuts into her telling her how prettily her skin bleeds. Afterward it’s Grandmother that ties her hair and paints her face. Telling her what a pretty girl she could be. Angelus lies and watches them as Darla fixes her. That’s what Grandmother does, puts Drusilla together with soft hands after Daddy bruises and bleeds her. But Darla’s never really looking at her when she ties Dru - she’ s starting at Daddy lying on the bed smoking his cigar and staring at them with mean eyes.
They always leave her though, naked and bound to the ruby red stained bed, all alone. There are crashes and screams and Darla always comes back with her lace torn and Angelus bruised. Daddy says that she’s his; Grandmother sniffs in the air as she fixes her clothes.
“Nothing is yours, Angelus, that doesn’t also belong to me.” Daddy glances back at her.
“Darla, you’re assuming I want to be yours,” as he drops the ashes of his cigar onto Drusilla’s skin and she can’t help but laugh as the embers dance in the air and land biting her skin.
“What you want doesn’t matter.” Darla runs her hands along Drusilla’s stomach, opening up lines all the way, but she doesn’t look at her or the pretty cuts, not the way Angelus does. Angelus never looks away as long as she’s screaming. So Drusilla screams and laughs and begs because that’s when they give her ribbons and touches, and she’s a pretty girl as long as she can bleed.
**
The Mother
Drusilla loved the parties in Brazil. The pretty girls and boys, dancing like fire and talking to things that weren’t there, just like her. Everyone tasted like apples and sugar as she drank from them. She sipped from pretty pink drinks and had chocolates, with so many boys lining up for her amusement. She turned them, but they never lasted; none of them felt right to her afterwards. They always taste best just as they leave, still warm on her mouth, but afterwards they’re just like her: cold and give her nothing.
She’s drinking from a lovely little dancing boy, black hair with cat’s eyes, when a man comes to her and says he has a job for her.
“You could do us a great service, Drusilla,” he says in a fearful voice.
“Mmmph what could you do for me?” She lick her lips as she looks up at him; the boy in her arms lets out a soft moan, “Hush, I’m busy”
“It’s about Angelus.”
“Daddy’s gone.”
“He’s coming back,” but she knows he won’t - he’ll talk like her daddy, but he won’t be him, shining fire and temptation; she looks and sees him wrapped in blue with…
“Darla?” She drops the boy on the ground; his blood trickles and almost gets on her shoes.
“She’s back but she needs your help, Dru; she’s dying and you have to save her.”
“Oh yes, I can do that” She smiles and holds her hand out to the man; he looks at her for a moment and lovely fear comes from him. “Come now, be a gentlemen and take my hand.” He nods as they walk out of the bar. “The world is buzzing, isn’t it? I can feel it all over.” The man just nods at her, “I’m going to be a mother,” she says.
**
The Seductress
She sits next to Darla at the table; on the other side is a small and smelly little man with glasses.
“Grandmother, I don’t want to sit next to him.” She curls her nose and whispers to Darla. Her grandmother just smiles at her, glancing with evil eyes at the man.
“Drusilla, darling, it doesn’t matter how badly a man looks,” she pauses, taking a glance at the little man, “if he has a nice purse.” Her gaze goes from the top of the man’s greasy head down to his waist where he has full pockets. When dinner is over everyone mixes, the room buzzing with lazy conversation. Darla leads Drusilla by the hand and they corner the little man, Darla whispering directions into Drusilla’s ear.
“How odd for two ladies to be on their own,” he says, staring at Darla’s bodice, a speck of drool sliding from his ugly lips.
“My sister and I are traveling to our sick mother’s house,” Darla says and she pulls Drusilla in towards her, guiding Dru’s free hand across the man’s arm.
“Slowly, Dru,” she directs and Dru nods as they coo into his ear He offers them a ride in his carriage where Darla snaps his neck with a crack, throwing him to Dru.
”Men are easy,” she says, counting the man’ s coins, that sparkle in the little moon light that comes through the carriage window, and Drusilla can’t help but stare at the little bits of light.
-the end
Title: What it's Like for a Girl
Author: Evette (geekthegirl8@hotmail.com)
Summary: Uh I got the idea for this when I was watching the movie Sunshine (a movie with all nature of incest/family issues that I got way too many fanged four-y thoughts). Basically I picked out various roles of a woman and wrote around them. The Widow, The Daughter, The Mother, The Seductress all about Drusilla. Darla/Dru. (with some brief Darla/Angelus, Drusilla/Angelus, and Spike/Drusilla mentions. Sorry :( )
Rated: Very light R for mild violence and sex
Thanks to aphedas for the beta. and again really really sorry about my lateness. *sighs*
Disclaimer: yeah, not mine.
The Widow
Drusilla has a lovely bruise across her stomach now. It's light blue - going so well with the pink burns that Angel put across her. Fire, another one of ashes turned golden. She comes back to Darla who sits now in the dark with a drink in her hand and a brown haired man down in her lap. She stands there, in the doorway, watching as Darla's hand tightens around the glass; her feet pushing into the floor. After daughter screams and moans, before the boy is even up from the floor, his neck is cracked and Darla drinks. But Darla's eyes are dead, filled with faded fire and tears that smell of sorrow. She understands that deadness, watching little boys turn away, gone forever, as they turn to ash in your hands. They sit together on the couch; Drusilla entwines her hand with Darla's as they both look down at the limp body in the floor.
"The boys always die and leave, don't they?" and she needs to know because this seems to be the way, doesn't it? Daddies, knights, and all the others, leaving Drusilla's game early.
"The good ones do," Darla answers back, and she pulls Dru's face down into her breast. “It’s the ones that stick around that you have to worry about”
**
The Daughter
Drusilla used to hear stories about pretty princesses and Daddy told her she was one on Sunday morning when her mother tied ribbons in her hair. He made her fly, calling her his pretty girl.
Pretty ribbons are tied around her hands now; that’s what this daddy does as he cuts into her telling her how prettily her skin bleeds. Afterward it’s Grandmother that ties her hair and paints her face. Telling her what a pretty girl she could be. Angelus lies and watches them as Darla fixes her. That’s what Grandmother does, puts Drusilla together with soft hands after Daddy bruises and bleeds her. But Darla’s never really looking at her when she ties Dru - she’ s starting at Daddy lying on the bed smoking his cigar and staring at them with mean eyes.
They always leave her though, naked and bound to the ruby red stained bed, all alone. There are crashes and screams and Darla always comes back with her lace torn and Angelus bruised. Daddy says that she’s his; Grandmother sniffs in the air as she fixes her clothes.
“Nothing is yours, Angelus, that doesn’t also belong to me.” Daddy glances back at her.
“Darla, you’re assuming I want to be yours,” as he drops the ashes of his cigar onto Drusilla’s skin and she can’t help but laugh as the embers dance in the air and land biting her skin.
“What you want doesn’t matter.” Darla runs her hands along Drusilla’s stomach, opening up lines all the way, but she doesn’t look at her or the pretty cuts, not the way Angelus does. Angelus never looks away as long as she’s screaming. So Drusilla screams and laughs and begs because that’s when they give her ribbons and touches, and she’s a pretty girl as long as she can bleed.
**
The Mother
Drusilla loved the parties in Brazil. The pretty girls and boys, dancing like fire and talking to things that weren’t there, just like her. Everyone tasted like apples and sugar as she drank from them. She sipped from pretty pink drinks and had chocolates, with so many boys lining up for her amusement. She turned them, but they never lasted; none of them felt right to her afterwards. They always taste best just as they leave, still warm on her mouth, but afterwards they’re just like her: cold and give her nothing.
She’s drinking from a lovely little dancing boy, black hair with cat’s eyes, when a man comes to her and says he has a job for her.
“You could do us a great service, Drusilla,” he says in a fearful voice.
“Mmmph what could you do for me?” She lick her lips as she looks up at him; the boy in her arms lets out a soft moan, “Hush, I’m busy”
“It’s about Angelus.”
“Daddy’s gone.”
“He’s coming back,” but she knows he won’t - he’ll talk like her daddy, but he won’t be him, shining fire and temptation; she looks and sees him wrapped in blue with…
“Darla?” She drops the boy on the ground; his blood trickles and almost gets on her shoes.
“She’s back but she needs your help, Dru; she’s dying and you have to save her.”
“Oh yes, I can do that” She smiles and holds her hand out to the man; he looks at her for a moment and lovely fear comes from him. “Come now, be a gentlemen and take my hand.” He nods as they walk out of the bar. “The world is buzzing, isn’t it? I can feel it all over.” The man just nods at her, “I’m going to be a mother,” she says.
**
The Seductress
She sits next to Darla at the table; on the other side is a small and smelly little man with glasses.
“Grandmother, I don’t want to sit next to him.” She curls her nose and whispers to Darla. Her grandmother just smiles at her, glancing with evil eyes at the man.
“Drusilla, darling, it doesn’t matter how badly a man looks,” she pauses, taking a glance at the little man, “if he has a nice purse.” Her gaze goes from the top of the man’s greasy head down to his waist where he has full pockets. When dinner is over everyone mixes, the room buzzing with lazy conversation. Darla leads Drusilla by the hand and they corner the little man, Darla whispering directions into Drusilla’s ear.
“How odd for two ladies to be on their own,” he says, staring at Darla’s bodice, a speck of drool sliding from his ugly lips.
“My sister and I are traveling to our sick mother’s house,” Darla says and she pulls Drusilla in towards her, guiding Dru’s free hand across the man’s arm.
“Slowly, Dru,” she directs and Dru nods as they coo into his ear He offers them a ride in his carriage where Darla snaps his neck with a crack, throwing him to Dru.
”Men are easy,” she says, counting the man’ s coins, that sparkle in the little moon light that comes through the carriage window, and Drusilla can’t help but stare at the little bits of light.
-the end