Under the Influence of Love

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When I selected Nov 9th as my posting day, I didn’t remember it was the day after the election (Canadian). Even if I had, I wouldn’t have expected this outcome. So hopefully, my odd little story with its threads from Something Blue, Once More With Feeling, and Chosen. Enjoy! 

Under the Influence of Love

Under the Influence of Magic

Emotion races through me, quick as a heroin high, better than booze. Her scent surrounds me, her tiny gasps and moans going straight to my heart. With a brief pit stop at my groin, I reflect, shifting slightly to loosen suddenly tight jeans. Even that little twitch elicits another sultry little hum from the blonde in my arms.

I’m going to marry this woman.

Heat flushes my body, fire and ice and everything nice. I’ve never felt anything like him before, his slim body and strong hands a perfect match for mine. How can his cool fingers make me feel so hot, I wonder, tipping my head to the side to give him access to the soft skin behind my ear. His lips barely touch me and I’m already shuddering with desire.

I’m going to marry this man.

But when the spell ends…

She’s the Slayer.

He’s a vampire.

She forgives.

He needles.

They don’t look at each other.

They don’t speak to each other.

They don’t touch each other.

But he’s still high from her scent.

And she’s still hot from his touch.

 

Under the Influence of Pain

There’s nothing wrong with me. It’s the world that has gotten dimmer, flatter. The sun rises and sets, but each day runs into the next with nothing to distinguish it from the previous one. Dim shapes move into and out of my line of sight, muffled sounds echo in my ears. My sister. My friends. They are trapped in a glass cage, unable to reach me. But he’s real. He has sharp edges and dark colours and volume so he can cut me and make me hear and sometimes, once in a while… make me feel.

I hate myself for wanting him.

There’s nothing wrong with her. It’s her friends that have driven her to this half-life she’s living, trying to please everyone but herself. I stand beside her from dusk until dawn to keep her from falling into the abyss that only she can see. Her friends and sister flit in and out, bright butterflies with no attention span, meandering through their lives and expecting her to follow. She’s no selfish butterfly. She craves connection, needs a purpose. She needs a fucking apocalypse to stop, but until one comes around (and one always comes around), I’ll lead her to the dark places where the things that go grr in the night are hid. I’ll let her kick and punch and slay. I’ll let her bleed me dry if it gives her a moment of peace.

I hate myself for letting her.

But when the hurt ends…

She’s the Slayer.

He’s a vampire.

She needs.

He acquiesces.

They don’t look at each other.

They don’t speak to each other.

But they can’t stop touching each other.

But he’s still love’s bitch.

And she’s still fighting.

 

Under the Influence of Apocalypse

My soul burns. Ever since Africa, there’s been this constant burn deep within. Feels like I’m always at the edge of flammable, like I’ve been walking into the sun for months. Feels like I want to die. Sometimes when she looks at me it flames up, hotter than ever and I can feel myself turning to ash. Sometimes when she looks at me it cools and I can feel myself getting strong. For her.

She makes me a better man.

My mind races. Ever since he came back, there’s been this constant confusion. I wanted him to go. I needed to go back to the beginning, to stand in front of humanity and protect them from the evil that lurks in the dark. And I did okay without him. But when he came back, I remembered. I remembered that the dark isn’t all bad. Sometimes the things in the dark hold you while you cry and stroke your hair and let you scream your pain and frustration into the wind and know that the only thing that can fix it is time. Sometimes the things in the dark have sharp teeth and sharp blades, but they use them to fight beside you. Sometimes the dark has a heart. Sometimes the dark has a soul. So I’m glad he’s back, even if I wanted him to go. And if I have to face another apocalypse, I’m glad to have him, a little piece of the dark, facing it with me.

He makes me stronger.

But when the apocalypse ends…

He’s a champion.

She’s a Slayer.

He dusts.

She grieves.

They can’t look at each other.

They can’t speak to each other.

But they never stop loving each other.

And she’s still fighting.

And she thinks somewhere… he is too.

 

Originally posted at http://seasonal-spuffy.livejournal.com/572670.html

garnigal

garnigal