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Doll!Torture Fic & Photos

In philips' most recent journal entry, Wanna see Spike's chips?, I made a comment that was apparently so disturbing that it moved her to write a ficlet about my poor (according to her, anyway) Spike and Angel dolls. It made me laugh until I cried and scared the cats, and there's just no way I'm going to let it languish as an unread footnote. Please enjoy the gift to the world that is her sense of the funny.
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Title: A Doll Tragedy
Author: philips
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Spike & Angel (Mere implied)
Warnings: Sad, sad little dolls.
A/N: I hope you're happy. Your disturbing brutality is all I could think about at work.


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Spike sighed with relief as the sound of footsteps faded away. Blasted photo shoots. He cautiously rotated his left shoulder and winced. Painful, but nothing a good night’s sleep wouldn’t fix. He shuddered as he remembered the look of manic glee on that woman’s face as she tore his shirt off. Giving his bulge a loving pat, he once again gave thanks that his pants were painted on. At least he had been spared that final indignity. Luckily, tonight’s props had included whiskey. It had helped to deaden the pain of being handled so roughly.

“Spike?”

Not enough whiskey to deaden this pain though. He peered into the darkness where he knew Angel was hiding.

“She’s done for the night. Get some kip, mate.”

“Aren’t you coming over here?”

For a second, he debated staying put and just ignoring him. Silently cursing his promise to Buffy, Spike crawled over and slumped down on the plastic sofa with a sigh. Shame that his accessories didn't include smokes.

Angel huddled next to him miserably.

“What did she make you do tonight? Were there…hobbits?”

Spike frowned as he noticed Angel’s uncontrollable shivering. Poor sod. The Scourge of Europe could handle a stay in hell but when faced with indentured modeling he had cracked completely.

“Never mind.” Spike held out his flask. “Take a sip of whiskey.”

“If you haven’t noticed, I can’t take anything. She kept both of my arms this time.”

Spike took a deep calming breath as he brought the flask to Angel’s lips. Buffy would want him to be patient.

“Oi! I said a sip! Bloody hell, ya just ‘bout drained it!” Oh, Buffy could just stuff it.

“Spike, this has got to end. She’s getting worse. She has me eating pizza. Everyone knows I don’t eat carbs.” Spike gritted his teeth as Angel’s voice took on a note of hysteria. “They make me bloat!”

Spike snickered softly. It was true.

“And have you seen Buffy lately? Spike, her Slayer strength is gone. The last time she looked that pale and weak was when I….” Angel swallowed and turned his head away.

Don’t encourage him. Don’t encourage him. Don’t encourage him.

“When ya what?” Christ. Damn this soul of his! It really had made him soft.

“When I drank from her.” Spike rolled his eyes. Wanker. “Spike, let’s face it! This whole thing is my penance. I deserve to have my strong arms taken away. That and worse.”

As Angel started to sadly sing "Even Now" (as he did every evening) Spike made a vow.

Tomorrow he’d find some way to get his own drawer.

------------------------------------------


My only possible response was one that I hope would do Angelus proud. I love the story (and its author) thiiiiiis much:




For doll!torture fic homage slideshow, "Diary of a Doll Torturer," click here. If I could have set it to Louis Armstrong singing "What a Wonderful World," I would have.

Comments

mere_ubu
May. 24th, 2008 01:16 am (UTC)
Re: A doll tragedy.
*mad cackle* Thanks for giving me a fic title, babe. *edits entry*

I'm going to wear the arms as earrings at my trial. You think they're not gonna charge you as an accomplice? Shyeah. We'll just see who look cuter in an orange jumpsuit. (Srsly? It won't be me. *shudders* Orange is not my friend.)

A confession: I left doll!Spike out tonight after taking him up on a photo opportunity that I couldn't resist, and Tiny Buckaroo mauled one of his little hands! I only left the little guy for a second. *sob* I swear, I'm going to get some help. Tomorrow.

ETA: Look at my red-rimmed eyes in those pictures and we'll talk about who's cruel! Admittedly, they were tears of laughter, but tears all the same. *sniff*

Edited at 2008-05-24 01:21 am (UTC)
philips
May. 24th, 2008 01:40 am (UTC)
Re: A doll tragedy.
I'm going to wear the arms as earrings at my trial.

Your lack of shame is impressive. Let's see if you're still laughing when the angry dolls take them back.

Cat mauling? Have you stooped so low as to blame your abuse on the family pet? *shakes head sadly*
mere_ubu
May. 24th, 2008 01:54 am (UTC)
Re: A doll tragedy.
Have you stooped so low as to blame your abuse on the family pet?

Unreservedly and without shame.

Photobucket
philips
May. 24th, 2008 02:10 am (UTC)
Do you live on a Hellmouth?
Wow.

Honey, I think that your kitty is possessed. You might want to get that checked out.
mere_ubu
May. 24th, 2008 02:24 am (UTC)
Re: Do you live on a Hellmouth?
Um, maybe not a Hellmouth per se. . .

hellmouth?

*holds out wrists for cuffs*
philips
May. 24th, 2008 02:32 am (UTC)
Re: Do you live on a Hellmouth?
There's a level of indecency here that I find deeply appalling.

Heh. You used per se.
mere_ubu
May. 24th, 2008 02:40 am (UTC)
Re: Do you live on a Hellmouth?
Even now (haaa!) she's sprawled on her back in a most unseemly posture. Furry little slattern!

Yeah, thought you'd like that. ;)

P.S. You have a very nice bit of feedback below.