ext_7328 (![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
dodyskin.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
crack_van2004-12-12 08:23 pm
dodyskin.livejournal.com) wrote in crack_van2004-12-12 08:23 pm
Dreams Never End by Darling Effect (NC-17)
Fandom: ANGEL THE SERIES
Pairing: Darla/Drusilla, Orignal Male Characters
Author on LJ:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
darling_effect
Author Website: none
Why this must be read: The Aurelian women are regular guests on my show. Yes, I said my show. What of it? They're flashbacktastic, extending the reach of the show far past the bounds of 21st century LA. With Darla and Drusilla we can go to sixteenth century Virginia, nineteenth century Romania, Rome, London, anywhere you want, really. The historical inaccuracies (a Catholic coal miner in 1860s London?) may take your breath away, but the corsets make up for it. And Drusilla can take you further: up into the future (she can see it, you know) and spiralling into madness, onwards! Upward, not forward! And twirling, twirling, always TWIRLING toward freedom!
Sorry, got a little carried away. The fic! This fic is lush, elegant, ornate and Parisian in setting; the language is equally so. It's langorously written, depraved and casually monstrous. It has flashes of wit and moments of pure sadism. It's completely over-the-top. In short, it is Darla at her demonic, divine best.
His purity is luscious and dizzying. Coursing through her veins on borrowed inertia, it’s even better. She slumps against his body for a moment while she regains her composure. She hears Drusilla’s faint voice, repeating in a kind-of singsong: "I see something, but I mustn’t tell, mustn’t tell, mustn’t tell."
"Dru, what in God’s name are you babbling about now?"
Dru puts a bloodied finger to her lips. "Shh. He’s sleeping." She starts to laugh hysterically. The boy is slumped in the chair. His neck is at a painfully rakish angle, his shirt is torn, and bloodied scratches criss-cross his chest. His dead eyes are still open, and there’s a dot of blood still clinging to the corner of his mouth.
Dreams Never End
Pairing: Darla/Drusilla, Orignal Male Characters
Author on LJ:
darling_effectAuthor Website: none
Why this must be read: The Aurelian women are regular guests on my show. Yes, I said my show. What of it? They're flashbacktastic, extending the reach of the show far past the bounds of 21st century LA. With Darla and Drusilla we can go to sixteenth century Virginia, nineteenth century Romania, Rome, London, anywhere you want, really. The historical inaccuracies (a Catholic coal miner in 1860s London?) may take your breath away, but the corsets make up for it. And Drusilla can take you further: up into the future (she can see it, you know) and spiralling into madness, onwards! Upward, not forward! And twirling, twirling, always TWIRLING toward freedom!
Sorry, got a little carried away. The fic! This fic is lush, elegant, ornate and Parisian in setting; the language is equally so. It's langorously written, depraved and casually monstrous. It has flashes of wit and moments of pure sadism. It's completely over-the-top. In short, it is Darla at her demonic, divine best.
His purity is luscious and dizzying. Coursing through her veins on borrowed inertia, it’s even better. She slumps against his body for a moment while she regains her composure. She hears Drusilla’s faint voice, repeating in a kind-of singsong: "I see something, but I mustn’t tell, mustn’t tell, mustn’t tell."
"Dru, what in God’s name are you babbling about now?"
Dru puts a bloodied finger to her lips. "Shh. He’s sleeping." She starts to laugh hysterically. The boy is slumped in the chair. His neck is at a painfully rakish angle, his shirt is torn, and bloodied scratches criss-cross his chest. His dead eyes are still open, and there’s a dot of blood still clinging to the corner of his mouth.