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| [ The Official "Willow's Ex-Boyfriends" Club, Membership 2] by kindkitXander/Oz. Love this Oz. In a well-run universe--which Xander knows this isn't, because, hey, hellmouth--no way would Xander and Oz be friends. That's not supposed to happen when you steal a guy's girlfriend. Big breakage to the laws of guydom, there.
It's part of how weird Oz is. Oz can commit high treason to guydom and just not care. Oz can be short and skinny and bored by sports. Oz can catch another guy kissing his girlfriend and not once threaten beating the crap out of him. Xander figures it's the werewolf. Every month when Oz goes hairy and scary, he gets all that macho stuff out, and all that's left is the cool and mellow.
Oz, the one time Xander asked, said you can't actually steal somebody's girlfriend anyway. Girls aren't like CDs or dollar bills. They've got free will. And legs. If your girlfriend walks away, chances are nobody's carrying her. | |
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| [ Variations On A Five-Paragraph Theme] by mireille719Xander/Oz. This? Is utterly adorable and in a really cool format. Just, lovely. outline
Outlining your essay before you start to write serves two purposes: first, it helps you to make sure you've met all the requirements for the assignment (introduction, conclusion, three body paragraphs with main ideas and at least two supporting points each); second, it allows you to organize your thoughts and spot weak points in your reasoning before you start to write. It is much easier to make changes to an outline than to a finished essay! Don't forget that in addition to your outline, you are required to turn in the thesis statement for your essay. [From handout given in Ms. Beakman's English III class, Sunnydale High School, Sunnydale, CA]
WHY I SUCK, by Xander Harris Thesis Statement: I am a completely sucktastic excuse for a human being because I am a traffic hazard, because my Halloween costume might have turned me gay, and because I lost my outline for my English paper, which is a class I am flunking. I. Traffic hazard
A. Stand there like a moron because I saw the guy from Halloween. B. Start walking backward because I'm not 100% sure that it's him and I'm still trying to see. C. Run into Aura D. Knock all her books all over the hall E. Also all of mine F. Lose sight of the guy when picking books up G. Why do I need books anyway?
1. It's not like I read them. 2. Or even open them. | |
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| [ Full Of Grace] by wax_jismXander/Oz. The Xander POV wavers a little, but I liked this anyway. Mildly suicidal tonight. It's so easy to get that way here. I don't need to walk onto the roof of any convenient tall building to end my life. Not in Sunnydale. All I have to do is swipe a couple of Buds out of the fridge (not actually a lethal act in and of itself, but capture would be sure to result in a quick trip to the ER, and possibly a month or two in traction), and then walk out into the pestilent-balmy Sunnydale night to swig said brewskis alone. At midnight. Yes, I do have a deathwish, why'd you ask? It's not quite strong enough yet for me to simply take my Dad's Walther and do it like a manly man, but enough to find the thought of walking with the monsters kind of appealing.
So here I am, staggering down the moonlit streets of Sunnyhell, Ca, entertaining quite the Budding Buzz (TM). Oh god, but I have to sit down in the damp grass of someone's front lawn to laugh that one off. My sense of humor seems to lose all proportions when I get tipsy. I have to be the world's most pathetic lifeform to get this wasted after two measly beers, but hey, it's not like that's news, anyway. | |
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| [Lessons In Cool] ( That Music Thing and Being John Wayne) by dessert_first and tesla321Xander/Oz. I love these stories to pieces. Sweet and perfect and hot. Oz set his guitar down. "Your hands are bigger than mine," he said easily. "You don't have to reach as much. Here, let me."
He moves Xander's fingers into the right position.
"Sorry," Xander says, "Sweaty."
Xander takes his hand off the neck of the guitar, wipes it on his pants leg, and then holds his hand out again.
Oz positions Xander's long strong fingers on the strings. His hand still on Xander's, he looks up slowly. He thinks he might be falling into Xander's wide brown gaze. | |
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| [ Lime Crush Has No Inherent Meaning] by spike21Xander/Oz. Gorgeous piece of porn. Oz and Xander at the beach, both naked but for ankle bracelets and bellychains.
And for some reason Oz is wearing pink lipstick, some of which has smeared on Xander's mouth. It's way too hot, the sky is that dark polarized blue and these occasional licks of superhot wind blow little spumes of white sand around them. Somewhere there's a radio. The sea is making this dry-silk sliding and thumping sound. Okay, they're a little stoned. Or a lot stoned. Oz's mouth tastes like hash oil and Lime Crush. And they're lying on Indian cotton wraps, blue and green and tropical pink. Oz's hair is totally salt and sun crusted. It feels crunchy and spongy. Oz doesn't mind. He likes it when his hair feels interesting Xander's hair is the exact opposite. Texture-wise, not interest-wise. It looks softly damp, dark and curling a little, slick with cocoa butter and salt sweat | |
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| [ Shadow Boxing] by Puca Dentata Xander/Oz. Some absolutely glorious descriptive language in here. He'd come back again, and was now cradling himself in a stairwell. These things happen, but why?
He's pissed at himself because of this; you think he would have learned the first time he had come back. When he had found out about Will and Tara. He knew it had been a bad idea, knew that he should just keep going, ignoring the exit ramp into Sunnydale.
But he must be some kind of glutton, must have a nearsighted soul-- because here he is. Despite. In Spite.
And...and all Oz wants now is to stay in this stairwell, alone. Stay here and grow hard and old old old; perhaps just eventually turn into another little puddle of the petrified goop to be found on the floor.
An God, he aches at being in this spectacularly ruined place that's now his mind. Inertia is something he hates. Not inertia of the body or mind, but of the Goddamn soul.... | |
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| [ Coming Over The Starnbergersee] by moireachXander/Oz. Mellow and lovely. The first week of summer vacation doesn't count. It's its own weird middle ground, a limbo of excitement and wallowing in getting to sleep 'til noon. Like a really long weekend. It's only later that real summer sets in, hot and empty. A different feeling through and through, and you can sometimes get glimpses of what the long months will be like from how it transitions.
This summer is weirder, though, because even though the letter cutouts on the sign in front of Sunnydale High have been changed to the usual HAVE A GREAT SUMMER VACATION, he's still hanging around campus. The library, more specifically, which still seems to be the base of Scooby operations despite the apparent lack of classes, apocalypse or Slayer.
"I was thinking of stopping by school tomorrow," Willow says on the phone at night, sleepy and shy.
"Pick you up at eight?" he says and she giggles a little, at the ritual this is becoming. | |
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| [ Stand With You] by zortifiedXander/Oz. Sweet, but with a hell of an ending. "Want me to put a new tape in?"
"Nah. I'm good."
"Cool."
Oz came back to the rear of the van and sat down. The rear doors were open, and Xander was sitting on the tailgate, feet dangling. It was warm, middle of summer in the valley. The air was clean, and there was no one else for miles. Or at least not within earshot. Same difference.
He glanced back at Oz, who was settling himself back into a reclining pose of immeasurable comfort. As if moving hadn't even disturbed him enough to recover from not-sitting, not-relaxing, Oz sat and stared and become one with the silence again.
Xander smiled. | |
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| [ My Little Always] by Morphea Xander/Oz. Incredible futurefic, swirling and chaotic and eventually sweet. We were never much for each other in high school, in the sacred alter of the red headed switch-witch goddess. Sure I loved Willow, but I never got caught in her orbit. Desire's a bitch, and the vortex is a woman, once he sighed when it was clear the slayerettes were falling apart.
He lied.
Now we are close. I want to stitch us together, hip to hip. I want to be seared into a cocoon of him. I want to slice his head open and eat his brains with a oyster fork. He tells me he'd be honored, that I can cut him open and take every square inch of him if it'd make me happy. I get so high on writing, and I crash down. He's the only one still stuck deep enough in the muck of beasties and mysteries that he can reach my damned carcass. I crawl into his arms and when he's nursed me back to health, I crawl back up into my life. He's lightly kissing my shoulder right now.
Yay, sex. | |
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| [ Halcyon And On And On] by mimesereXander/Oz. Lovely characterisation. Oz didn't smile, quite. "I have no sense of humor."
Xander did smile. "You're so full of it."
"I'm insulted." He still didn't smile. "I am full of nothing. I'm totally, utterly innocent. And humorless. I am the human equivalent of oatmeal." | |
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| [ Kryptonite] by mimesereOz/Xander. Slow, sweet fic. "Your head is turning kind of purple."
"That would be from stopping the wall with my face."
Oz falls onto the couch next to Xander with a wince and muffled curse. "You should put a bandaid on your nose."
"Why? I'm not bleeding. Am I? Oh wow, am I bleeding?" Xander straightens up and stares at Oz. "Is there blood?"
"No. But it'll make you look rakish."
"Rakish?"
"Yeah. Byronic even. Except not really." Oz yawns and slides onto the floor. He blinks at the t.v. "Betty White is cool." | |
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| [ Transfer] by 3jane and thete1Xander/Oz. Hot and and angry and guilty. It's only later, in the alley, that Xander gets the edges of Oz's look. Why Grandma, what big eyes you have!
Somewhere between angry and. Hungry. Animal. He's not sure how far it's a you-are-so-dead-Harris kind of look, how far it's just the wolf coming awake.
Either way, it's not a good look. | |
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| [ Pretty Rad] by glossingXander/Oz. Cross-dressing and strange hotness. And it ends sweetly. Wolfsitting, and he hasn't fallen asleep *once*. This month, he even bought a weird folding pillowy thing, kind of like a cheap futon, at Wal-Mart for Oz and Ozwolf. It seems like Oz always wakes up bare-assed on the linoleum and if nothing else, that can't be good for the poor guy's spine. Plus, wolves like dens, right? Can't hurt to make the monster feel at home.
He put it in the cage before Oz arrived last night and just shrugged when Oz nudged it with his toe and looked at him.
Oz looks a lot. Guy likes his glances, hates words. Xander's trying to work with that, pick up a little of his calm and lack of need to speak, because talking, like kissing, only seems to get him in shit these days.
He's been getting the sharp sideways look from Oz all the time. Those weirdly delicate little brows, drawn tight over big green eyes, shooting lasers at Xander.
He's pretty sure Oz can read his mind. | |
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| Twenty Nine Kisses by gilascaveXander/Oz. Short and sweet and sad. He'd continued to keep count, because someday he's going to see Jesse again, and he's going to ask. Sometimes, when Xander has a chance to think clearly about the way his brain works, he wonders why he thinks he'll want to taunt Jesse about the kisses he missed by being dead.
The rest of the time he just keeps count, because Jesse will ask. And besides -- until lately, it wasn't difficult at all. 'Two' was an easy, if embarrassing, number to remember.
A week ago, his number of kisses soared to 'five'. Or maybe six, because there was one which might have been two, or might have been one long, complex, multi-stage kiss. Their mouths had never really broken contact, but at one point neither of them were moving, barely touching their lips together, and Xander isn't completely sure they didn't *stop* kissing, and then start again a second later. | |
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