A Can of Worms

...is also calime. Most of what's up there (and most likely what's going to get written in the future) is Highlander.

I can has sleepy tiems now, yayys!! Or, if we disregard lolcatspeak, I have four weeks of vacation, and considering I did not get any for last two years due to the job change, it is A VERY GOOD THING. Last three days, I've divided the time between sleeping and hunting for the necessary items for flat renovations. Apparently, sleep and the application of junk food has jumpstarted my brain's fic centres and I've finally gotten around to answering jjjean65's question from that long-ago meme. So, here it is.


Title:Rara Avis
Fandom:Highlander
Disclaimer: I own neither the Universe nor the Highlander-verse I'm playing in. Only my mistakes are mine.
Character(s)/Rating/Warning(s): Methos/Gen/None, except the fact that the ficlet has never seen a beta.
Notes & Summary: Written in response to jjjean65's question, "Where has Methos *never* been/who *hasn't* he met and why..."
It's perhaps not quite a straight answer, but then, Methos!muses are well-known for their evasiveness, aren't they? So, five (kinds) of people Methos has never met...

( Rara Avis )

I suppose I watched "Innocence" too much, or I can blame the fact that I used to know the "Ballad of Reading Gaol" by heart.
Untitled.
Fandom: BtVS
Disclaimer: Nothing I have is really mine. Anything from Jossverse, even less. Methinks Oscar Wilde's works are already in the public domain.
Notes: Sincere thanks go to sparklebutch and ceruleancat for beta and advice and support. Also, for pimping. Everything that is still wrong is my fault:)
Takes place during Buffy season 2 ep "Innocence". The quote in the beginning is straight from the episode.
Poem quoted isThe Ballad of Reading Gaol, by Oscar Wilde
So, in the words of two dead Irishmen (and Drusilla, who knows Angelus so well)...


Angelus: Spike, my boy, you *really* don't get it! Do you? You tried to kill her, but you couldn't. Look at you. You're a wreck! She's stronger than any Slayer you've ever faced. Force won't get it done. You gotta work from the inside. To kill this girl ... you have to love her.

Spike smiled, an appreciative, secret smile and drawled, "For each man kills the thing he loves ..." There was mockery in his voice that - for a reason Angelus preferred not to dwell on - failed to reach his eyes.

Later, in the lazy sated predawn, with Spike curled up by his side and Drusilla lying with her head on his chest, the words of the dead Irishman came back to whisper quietly in his head.

Yet each man kills the thing he loves ...

He reached to comb through Dru’s dark locks with his fingers in the unspoken rhythm of the cadenzas. Lovely, deadly, dead.

The kindest use a knife, because
The dead so soon grow cold.

The harsh lamplight broke on the sleek surface of the hair and for a moment it appeared not dark chestnut, but light wheat under his hand.

Angelus smiled. He was not a kind man. He had never been known for that particular trait.

For highlander100 Challenge #121, "Headache"

Title: "Not Tonight, Darling..."

Disclaimer: They're not mine. RPD can have the headache too, I'm a giving kinda gal :)

"So, why never another immortal? A commitment thing?" asked Joe one evening, nosy and mellow with good drink and company.

Methos quirked an eyebrow.

"No, not really. It’s a ... well, it’s a sex thing."

Pause.

"See, the Quickenings give me a terrible headache."

"I thought you tried to avoid taking them?"

Eyeroll.

"Not taking them. The buzz. The more intense emotions involved, the worse it gets. Another immortal nearby gives me a mild headache, alcohol ... ameliorates it. Anything more passionate - a wracking migraine. Unless I’m dead drunk, in which case ... how well do you get it up when totally pissed?"

_________________________________________
100 words
Q to Joe, who has to listen to those tall tales

Well, I've had a nice productive night uploading my ficcy bits and ends to the new Highlander Fiction Archive. I'm feeling a bit like a child who has suddenly spoken out loud in a company of adults... posting ficcy stuff on lj is one thing, but An Archive is, like, serious *grins sheepishly*. I'm also a bit surprised that I had quite so many ficcy bits, though of course 1000 words is already something of a long story for me. Did not upload Sleeping Sun ... I really should try to write more of it, not just roll it around in my head.
Anyways, it's half past 6 am here...wonder if I should go sleep, or just stay up... this staying at home has allowed my body to adapt the sleep schedule it considers normal (which is a night owl's), but maybe I should try to get back to the 'outer word normal'.
Hmm, and tomorrow's the neurosurgeon's appointment ...wonder what he'll say about my back.
Maybe I should have some more coffee.

Mininano-ing? Drabbling? Ficlet-ing? Hmm, that sounds like ... bloodletting. Might be also healthy if not taken to extremes.
Ok, to the point. I seem to recall I had one. Ah, yes.

Fandom: Highlander
Characters: Kronos
Disclaimer: Not mine, if recognizable.
100 words
Notes:Inspired by highlander100 challenge "Chaos and Order"

Tied down, immobile, the blindfold the final touch sending him tumbling out of himself, through the churning panic, twisting, into the chaos.

For an infinite moment there’s only the power-laden swirling nothingness. He’s devoured, unravelled, consumed in it. Lost, suffocated, trapped.

Then the pain comes, a glorious, brilliant thread, gathering him together. Raising him high on the waves, to ride the surging chaos. Up, to reach the apex, poised for one shimmering second before coming crashing down.

Down in jumbled pieces, an endless fall... Caught, steadied by familiar hands, restored to reality and order, shaking. Safe. Until the next ride.

For the highlander100 114th Challenge All Hallows, also in the spirit of mini_nanowrimo
Fandom: Highlander, obviously.
Disclaimer: Not mine, if recognisable.
100 words of ... hmm... shippy sap?

Socks and the sword, the black jeans will do, the sweater, the coat, mustn’t forget the good single malt, picked with care the day before.

Lock the door, down the street, he has somewhere to be. Round the corner, he finds himself whistling, he comes bearing gifts, but he’s no Greek to be wary of.

Though, when in Rome… what’s that they say?

He knocks.

"Trick or treat?" to the opening door.

"I can never guess with you," amusement in the answer, welcoming.

"I forgot the mask," he offers.

"Good," the brilliant smile a promise, "You don’t need one here."

sparklebutch has this icon with three knights...and he pokes.

Fandom: Highlander
Disclaimer: Not mine, I'm just using them for my own dirty ends.
Notes:Set in sparklebutch's D/M/K AU and inspired by his icon. I guess this one's not crack, but smut. Thank you sparklebutch for poking, and looking, and all the stuff. All mistakes are mine, if you spot a typo, please be yelling out at me:)

( clicky )

The ever marvellous sparklebutch wrote wonderful yummy squeeworthy sex for highlander100 "Sex" Challenge. And high on that pretty D/M/K crack, I begged to borrow a slice of his Universe and wrote some more crack.
The 100-word drabble for highlander100 Challenge # 109 is here
This one's the slightly longer version. I mean, who can fail to be inspired by glowing Methosdicks?
Title: A wise man never...
Disclaimer: Not mine. Just playing. The glowing Methosdick (TM) belongs to sparklebutch, the rest belongs to TPTB.
Warnings: Pure, unashamed crack. Set in sparklebutch's D/M/K crack!AU
Credit: Thank you to sparklebutch for letting me play in your sandbox, and for cyberducks for the original inspiration of the glowing Methosdick!

NB! To get any of it, you really need to read this first!


Methos looked down at two dark heads bent together, engrossed in studying the strange new phenomenon.
"You know, " he remarked, "this reminds me of the time when an entire civilization used to worship my penis."
Both heads shot up, colliding with a rather satisfying crack! in the process.
Methos thought that the second simultaneous "Owwwwwww" was particularly harmonious.
"There were whole temples dedicated to my penis. With amazingly life-like frescoes, and mosaiques made of precious stones, and silk tapestries, and marble statues...And the fair boys and maidens, in the main temple in the capital, of course, to take good care of the original. It was quite exhausting, to be honest. Especially being forced to maintain the erection almost constantly."
Come to think of that, they must've been practicing the timing of the eyeroll, too, those sly bastards.
He glared at his lovers.
"You don't believe me?"
Silence.
He let a hint of Death creep into his voice.
" Maybe you think it is undeserving of such attention?"
"Oh, no," said Kronos hastily, "It is very pretty indeed."
"Especially with the special glow effects," added Duncan for good measure.
It seemed that Kronos and Duncan wholeheartedly agreed on several fundamental truths. For example, everything about Methos was pretty. Moreover, a wise man never disses his lovers' assets. Especially if he wants to keep on getting any.
That was perfectly fine with Methos. Two agreeable lovers beat two glowering enemies any day. Even if it meant he'd have to brush up his tall tales to a wholly next level. After all, for a truly appreciative audience it would be worth the effort.


ETA: Now, with a brand new, thematic icon from sparklebutch !

For the highlander100 Challenge #98 : Sound/Hearing
Title: The meaning of sounds
Disclaimer: I'm playing with someone else's toys, but I promise not to break them.
Warning: A smidgen of slashiness, a spoonful of sap.

Methos lay awake in the warm darkness, contemplating the varied meanings of sounds.
Usually and universally, the sound of loneliness was that of one’s own breathing.
Tonight, the sound of insanity was the quiet lapping of water against the hull of the barge. Most likely it was also the sound of impending doom.
"Hrn-hrggghhh!"
His train of thoughts was interrupted by a near-perfect imitation of a rabid bison with a headcold. Automatically, Methos jabbed his elbow hard into the cocooned shape beside him, which subdued the noise into a softer snoring.
Quite possibly, snoring could be the sound of love.