liz_marcs (liz_marcs) wrote,
liz_marcs
liz_marcs

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Fic preivew, Fan Writing I gotta do, and Soopah Sekrit FBI Files on Cartoon Characters....

Hey All,

I'll be organizing the latest editions to my Dark Xander Fanfiction List later on tonight. So please, please, please add more stories. Since my time is limited on checking them, I'll add a third and fourth category: Author-Pimped Dark Xander Fics and Fan-Pimped Dark Xander Fics.

I'm begging here for more stories to add *gives FList puppy-dog eyes*.

At any rate, I passed in my remixredux story last week (coded and everything...wheeee!). I'm a little nervous because: 1) It's a fandom I've never written before and 2) the author of the original story is on my FList. Hope they like it. *crosses fingers*

Also, I sent the beginnings of a strange story I've been picking at for a couple of months to booster17 last night. It's a "sleeper Xander" story, although completely different from his story called Sleeper, which is on my Dark Xander Fanfiction List. However, since his story planted the seed, I sent the bits I've done to him just to make sure we're on the up-and-up. (It's that fear of inadvertant plaigarism thing I've got going). Plus, I need him as a Brit-Picker since Spike is the second lead in it. No, not slash. Think buddy road trip where a Sleeper Xander is practically Rain Man. Much as I dislike Spike as a character, I'm having a hella lot of fun writing the interaction between the two.



General premise: Our Heroes(tm) need to hide a very important spell that they can't use for a year, so they hide it in Xander's head. Xander's been put on Sleeper mode and now think's he's Alex Hill, man who's a little bit slow (or has mild mental retardation). Needless to say, since this is the Scoobs, something goes wrong, the forces of evil find him, and Spike's got to save him and run him to L.A. so the spell can be triggered. Problem is, Spike's not able to break the Sleeper spell and so "Alex Hill" thinks he's being kidnapped by "a crazy person."

During this section (since it's near the beginning of the "kidnapping"), Alex Hill is in Spike's car while Spike's speeding down a secondary road to get away from trouble (which Alex hasn't seen yet, he only has Spike's word that it's true, so he doesn't believe him). Alex at this point is gagged, hands and feet are tired up, and he's seat-belted in. This is right about of the third of the way in. Essentially Spike's not dealing well with the concept of "Alex Hill," but I give Spike loads of credit for trying.


Alex isn’t sure how long they’ve been driving before he sees Spike visibly relax. “We lost ’em. Caught a bit of luck there.” Spike spares him a glance. “You must be getting hungry right about now.”

Alex almost wants to shake his head no, mostly because he’s afraid that Spike will pull out a hidden weapon and kill him if they stop, but a flurry of thoughts--Hungry. That means food. That means we have to stop. That means I could run away--stops him.

“C’mon, now. Don’t give me the silent treatment.” Spike winces and sounds like he’s sorry. “Which you are on account of the gag. Trust me, rather’d have you mouthing off at me over whatever hair’s crossed your arse ’bout me. That’d be normal.”

Alex can feel his heart pick up speed. Spike still thinks he’s someone else; someone who might cause him trouble. If Spike thinks he’s too much trouble that might mean Spike will kill him.

Spike spares him another glance. “Now don’t be working yourself up like that. Heart’s goin’ faster than a rabbit’s. Any faster and it’ll explode out of your chest. That happens, blood all over the interior and wouldn’t look good for me. My life’s worth more than that bit of amusement.”

Alex blinks and wonders how Spike knew his heart was beating fast.

“Wonder what the bloody hell I said this time to get your motor running. That’s just not right. Not right at all, if you ask me,” Spike mutters as he rolls down the window to flick out the latest cigarette. “Should be telling me to get stuffed, you should. Or leastwise complain about…” Spike pauses and glances at Alex again. “Lessee now, how would you put it? Ah. Got it.” He clears his throat straightens his shoulders and says in a horrible fake American accident, “The suck that is you as a tour guide. No danger of you getting a job in hospitality.”

Yeah, Spike definitely thinks he’s someone else.

Spike’s grinning now, like he’s very pleased with his imitation of whomever he thinks Alex is. “Not quite right that one, but close.” He glances again at Alex. The grin disappears and his eyes snap back to the road as he mutters, “Not close enough, I guess.” Spike stabs at the radio a little bit before adding, “S’past midnight and you haven’t had nothing but that packet of peanuts I found back before we left the room. You must be hungry, yeah?”

Alex’s stomach growls in agreement.

“Settled then. Hold on a mo’. Best get this gag off you. Mind this, though. You start yelling your fool head off, the gag’s going back on and we’ll be skipping this meal. Got me?”

Alex nods.

Spike pulls the car over before he leans toward Alex and removes the gag. Alex immediately starts gasping for breath.

Spike frowns but doesn’t back off. “Had a hard time breathing? Should say something ’bout that. Would’ve loosened the gag a bit for you.”

Alex keeps his eye on Spike and doesn’t say anything.

Spike flops backwards against the driver’s side door. “Feeling a mite peckish myself, truth to tell, so we’ll have to stop soon’s we spot a butcher’s. If her Highness expects me to live off whatever rodent I come across, she’s got another serious think coming. I don’t do rats.”

Alex shrinks back against his seat. Spike’s talking crazy again and that can’t be good.

“Still, a bag of crisps’ll do me in a pinch,” Spike says with a shrug, his complaint about butchers and rats forgotten. “How ’bout you? Maybe could manage a sandwich and some pot noodles. Most convenience marts have a microwave so shouldn’t be too bad.”

“’Kay,” Alex responds. His voice sounds raspy.

Spike grins in a way that seems to light up his face. “That’s the ticket. What say I throw a Twinkie on top of the deal? You’d like that I bet.”

“If you want,” Alex says meekly.

“What’s this? ‘If I want,’ he says. C’mon. Twinkie’s like your main drug and I’m offering to be your dealer.”

Alex starts to stutter because right now Spike likes whoever Spike thinks he is and he doesn’t want to disappoint because that would be bad for him, but… “I-I-I-I-”

Spike leans forward and stares at him. “You must be…you’re not serious. You’re telling me that you don’t want a Twinkie?”

Alex hunches his shoulders. “Don’t like them.”

“You don’t…but…” Spike sputters a bit. “All right. What do you want to end your fabulous feast with?”

“Trail mix. I like trial mix.”

“Trail mix,” Spike says slowly.

“It’s got raisins in it. And nuts. And dried fruit. But I really like the raisins.”

“You like raisins. You’re giving me the wind-up, aren’t you?”

“Raisins are nature’s candy,” Alex explains. “Twinkies are bad for you. Ms. Whyte said that I have to eat healthy so I can be healthy.”

“Stop. Right there.” Spike starts the car, puts his hands on the wheel, and mutters, “Trail mix. Red’s turned him into a bleedin’ health nut she has. That’s just…that’s just…” He turns back to Alex and shakes a finger at him like Alex has done something wrong, “A man’s got his needs, he does. Every man’s got his poison, get me? Now, for some, it’s that aged fine whisky. Or a good smoke. Or the fresh blood of a virgin, yeah?”

“I’m not a virgin!” Alex yells.

“Hunh? Where the hell’d that come from?”

“Just mentioning it. Just in case,” Alex says quickly.

“Riiiiiight,” Spike drawls. “What I’m getting at here is that depriving a man of his poison is like…like…turning him into someone else. It’s just wrong that is. A man needs his vices and without his vices, he might as well lose his soul.” Spike pauses with a frown. “Or gain it. Okay, as a metaphor, not one my better choices, so let’s just erase that last bit. No wonder why I got my standing Os at only one poetry slam. Belabor the point a bit too much. Almost had it there, but…”

Alex’s stomach lets out another growl.

“Right you are,” Spike says as he shifts the car into drive. “One packet of crisps for me; one sandwich, one pot noodle, and one packet of,” he pauses to give Alex a look that can only be described as disappointed, “trail mix for you. God what has this world come to? The day Xander Harris turns down…”

“Alex. Alex Hill,” Alex corrects. “My name’s…”

“I bleeding well know your name,” Spike snaps.



Trust me, the story above is not coming out any time soon. Here's the other fannish writing I have to do:


  • Something tells me I just might be overthinking Willow's section. I'm about ready just to post the (very short) Xander section before hand while beating up Willow a little more. However, I need the impact of the two together because both of them are fighting their ultimate fears at the same time. *headdesk* If I don't break through by Thursday, a couple of betas are going to be getting a pretty rough draft of the next part with some serious cries for help. I cannot believe how much trouble I'm having with this section. The rest of the story is going to/is going fine, but why this part is giving me so much trouble, I have no idea.


  • I need to switch around one or two songs. Plus, I really do want to finish the linear notes. I have to step back and decide a few things on that. I think (as usual) I'm going overboard, especially since some of the fanmix communities frown upon linear notes this extensive. Hmmmmm. Plus, I owe a volunteer a rough soundtrack to listen to. Those of you who've received them, if you've had a chance to listen, please, please, please email me at liz DOT marcs AT gmail DOT com and let me know what you think. One of my music betas has emailed me back (Thanks ponders_life!) but I'd love more input since I'm going to be looking at song oderder again.


  • I'm half-done with my PAL-a-thon entry called No Myth. I desperately need to finish it before April 1.


  • I completely forgot that I volunteered to write a Xander Season Three essay for With Character. It was due March 12. I dropped a message in comments explaining that I spaced on it. I'm not going to be able to get near this for a month.


  • I haven't received my "Death by"-a-thon assignment yet, but it's lurking.

Yeah, don't say it. "Stupid bunny. What do you think you're doing?"

The answer is, quite obviously, being stupid.

Anyway, a bit of a funny from Jesus' General (Hilarious blog, by the way...the fact that some people take this guy seriously? Cracks me up. Of course, the people that take the General seriously are the same people who take Landover Baptist seriously.)

Anyway, The General has linked to the Soopah Sekrit FBI files on suspected homosexual cartoon characters. A total and complete hoot. Plus, a pretty unsurprising list. Heh.

Must go back to work now....
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