virtualinsomnia (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
virtualinsomnia) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
crack_van2004-04-16 01:57 am
virtualinsomnia) wrote in crack_van2004-04-16 01:57 am
Skelping by Mad Poetess [NC17]
Genre: ANGEL
Pairing: Wesley/Doyle
Author's Website: http://www.hawksong.com/users/mpoetess/stakes/
Author's LJ:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
mpoetess
Why this MUST be read:
New theme now. The Lindsey recs are done for the time being (though I still have a few more waiting in the wings for later! *g*) and we're moving on to one of my other favorite characters from the Angel universe: Doyle.
There is definitely not enough good Doyle fic out there. And there is *especially* not enough good Doyle slash. I'm not entirely sure why good Doyle fic is so hard to find. Maybe because he was only on nine episodes... or maybe because there are far too many sappy cliches that any fics set post-Hero can fall into... who knows? But I'm glad to say that this fic is able to manage to be happy without being overly sappy.
Doyle as ghost fics really aren't my thing, but Mad Poetess has such a pitch perfect Doyle voice that I'd likely forgive her anything. And she also uses both Wes and Phantom Dennis well, which adds a great many bonus points to her favor. Not to mention, she manages to be devastatingly funny in addition to being hot as hell and putting a smile on your face come the end of the story. :)
But I'll just let the story sell itself from here on out: The first thing Doyle did when he realized he was dead was shout out a great and resounding "Feck all!" Which, on reflection, probably didn't endear him to the Powers That Be, but he figured they owed him a little slack for the number of bloody splitting headaches they'd thrown at him.....
The second thing he did, of course, after a little introspection and the realization that he could really use a stiff drink right about now, was to check the package. Well, you did, right? Hurrah, you're still somewhere doing something, existential shite aside, the next logical step is to make sure all the important bits are hanging about where they belong. Mind, such as it was, still functioning, so next down the list... Okay, maybe you didn't, but Alan Francis Doyle did. For the record, all equipment present and accounted for, and still felt vaguely human to his surreptitious fingers. Alone on a dock in the middle of the night, and he's still looking both ways to make sure nobody sees him touching himself, if anybody could see him at all.
Well, fine. At least it was all there, in case he wanted to have a ghostly wank, assuming there weren't any spirited girlies about. Or otherwise. He was perfectly willing to admit (To whom, though? Phantom Dennis?) that a little otherwise wasn't that bad of a thing either. Hell, he was dead. Who was gonna tell him he wasn't manly enough because he admired the sight of black coat-tails flapping behind a tall, dark dead guy, as much as he appreciated those long, tan legs of Cordelia's? Maybe the same invisible folks that weren't watching him make sure the parts were all still in place, but it was about that time Doyle decided he didn't really care. What was the good of being a ghost if you had to worry about haunting a closet?
Skelping
Pairing: Wesley/Doyle
Author's Website: http://www.hawksong.com/users/mpoetess/stakes/
Author's LJ:
mpoetessWhy this MUST be read:
New theme now. The Lindsey recs are done for the time being (though I still have a few more waiting in the wings for later! *g*) and we're moving on to one of my other favorite characters from the Angel universe: Doyle.
There is definitely not enough good Doyle fic out there. And there is *especially* not enough good Doyle slash. I'm not entirely sure why good Doyle fic is so hard to find. Maybe because he was only on nine episodes... or maybe because there are far too many sappy cliches that any fics set post-Hero can fall into... who knows? But I'm glad to say that this fic is able to manage to be happy without being overly sappy.
Doyle as ghost fics really aren't my thing, but Mad Poetess has such a pitch perfect Doyle voice that I'd likely forgive her anything. And she also uses both Wes and Phantom Dennis well, which adds a great many bonus points to her favor. Not to mention, she manages to be devastatingly funny in addition to being hot as hell and putting a smile on your face come the end of the story. :)
But I'll just let the story sell itself from here on out: The first thing Doyle did when he realized he was dead was shout out a great and resounding "Feck all!" Which, on reflection, probably didn't endear him to the Powers That Be, but he figured they owed him a little slack for the number of bloody splitting headaches they'd thrown at him.....
The second thing he did, of course, after a little introspection and the realization that he could really use a stiff drink right about now, was to check the package. Well, you did, right? Hurrah, you're still somewhere doing something, existential shite aside, the next logical step is to make sure all the important bits are hanging about where they belong. Mind, such as it was, still functioning, so next down the list... Okay, maybe you didn't, but Alan Francis Doyle did. For the record, all equipment present and accounted for, and still felt vaguely human to his surreptitious fingers. Alone on a dock in the middle of the night, and he's still looking both ways to make sure nobody sees him touching himself, if anybody could see him at all.
Well, fine. At least it was all there, in case he wanted to have a ghostly wank, assuming there weren't any spirited girlies about. Or otherwise. He was perfectly willing to admit (To whom, though? Phantom Dennis?) that a little otherwise wasn't that bad of a thing either. Hell, he was dead. Who was gonna tell him he wasn't manly enough because he admired the sight of black coat-tails flapping behind a tall, dark dead guy, as much as he appreciated those long, tan legs of Cordelia's? Maybe the same invisible folks that weren't watching him make sure the parts were all still in place, but it was about that time Doyle decided he didn't really care. What was the good of being a ghost if you had to worry about haunting a closet?
Skelping