Whichclothes, who knitted a couple of Spikes, mentioned writing stories for them on a day when I ran out of stuff to do at work. This is why they really should keep me busy at the office. Note: I'm calling him Yarn!Spike instead of knitted Spike, which is whichclothes' term for him, in honor of the most awesome superhero, Yarn Man (Megaton Man comics, and am I a geek or what!)
The Adventures of Yarn!Spike
Yarn!Spike kills himself
Spike leaped off the edge of the dresser and landed face-first on the beige rug. “Ow,” he said, rubbing a hand made of yarn over his nose. “Or, well, not ow since I don’t have any pain receptors, but that was humiliating!”
Wobbling to the window, he bemoaned his lack of a real body. “I don’t care how cute a doll I am, I’m still a doll.” He climbed up the edge of the curtain and looked out of the open window. “Two stories up. That oughta do it,” he said from the edge of the ledge. “Goodbye cruel world,” he added as he jumped.
He landed face-first on the green grass. Pushing himself up, Spike said, “Well, that was entertaining for all of ninety seconds.” As he looked up the vinyl siding of the house, he thought uh-oh.
“Hey,” he shouted towards the house. “I’d like to get back in now! A little help here?” After a few moments, he added, “Hello?”
Yarn!Spike watches tv
As Spike watched Xander face down Jack O’Toole, he snuck a kernel of popcorn out of the bowl – not easy to do when you’re a yarn doll. “That Xander is a bit of all right,” he said as he raised the popcorn to his mouth, which, being made of yarn, didn’t open. He sighed, tossed the popcorn aside, and stared at the tv.
“Actually, he’s a bit more than all right,” he added as one yarn hand slipped down towards the top of his pants. It wouldn’t slide under. “Hey!” he shouted. “These pants don’t come off.”
His expression didn’t change as a terrible thought occurred to him. He reached his hand down lower. “No cock! I’ve got no cock!”
He fell against the couch and then quickly stood. “That’s it! Somebody’s gonna die!”
“whichclothes,” he shouted to the room. “whichclothes! You know that scene from Trilogy of Terror where the doll hunts Karen Black? That’s gonna be you!”
He leaped from the couch to the floor. “That’ll be you… as soon as I figure out where you’ve shipped me to.” Heading towards the door, he added, “Or, um, as soon as I find out where you live.” He started mumbling as he pulled himself up the stairs. “Bloody hell, now I’ve got to torture the information out of somebody. Do you know how hard it is to torture someone when you’re a doll? Maybe they haven’t tossed out the box I was mailed in yet. That’d be easy. One quick return to sender and I’m there.”
Yarn!Spike finds food
Spike found himself on a windowsill, uncertain how he’d gotten there, and still made of yarn, which was bloody annoying, but neither of those mattered at the moment. He’d found food!
As he surveyed the room again, Spike’s eyes were first drawn to an Angel-doll brooding in the corner. Blech! He was almost as bad as that other Spike that, happily, whichclothes had been smart enough to get rid of. Buffy was sitting on a bookshelf and yeah he'd like a fight but food first. He hadn't eaten in– Spike fell back against the window and stared up at the ceiling. How long had it been? He couldn't recall, but that was all the more reason to eat first. He went back to his two remaining choices: Xander and Willow.
There was something enticing about the way Xander was lying on the bed, but Willow, sitting on a desk and surrounded by books, looked too innocent for words. Something about “I'd bite you” flashed through Spike's mind, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. Not that he had fingers, mind you. Spike looked back and forth between Willow and Xander until vague memories of “I'd bite you in a heartbeat” won out over even vaguer notions of “moist and delicious”.
Taking a couple of wobbly steps, Spike launched himself towards the desk. He landed face first on the floor. “I can't believe I am still made of yarn,” he muttered quietly, not wanting to put the other dolls on alert, as he climbed a chair up to the desk.
Wobbling towards Willow, he shook his head. He paused and shook it again. He patted yarn hands to yarn face. Dropping his arms, his eyes darted desperately around the room. “No fangs?” he shouted. “How the bloody hell am I supposed to feed with no fangs?”
“Ha!” As a shout came from the doorway, Spike fell back and landed at Willow's feet. He looked up to see whichclothes and some stupid cow of a woman standing there. “I told you he'd go for her,” the cow was gloating. “Spillow wins the day. You owe me twenty bucks,” she said, holding out her hand.
As whichclothes pulled out her wallet, she grumbled towards Spike. “You couldn't have gone for Xander even after I set him up so seductively? You did that on purpose, didn't you? There is no way I knitted straight!Spike.”
Spike sat up and looked towards the other doll. His confusion shone through even his knitted face as he asked, “Spillow?”
Willow smiled at him.
Yarn!Spike checks out the Xander Doll
After the stupid cow got her money, she picked up three of the dolls – Willow, Buffy, and Angel – placed them into boxes, and then into a large bag. Grabbing Spike, she squeezed him against her chest, shrieking, “Oh, you are so cute, I could just eat you up.”
“Lemme go! Lemme go!” Spike shouted until she tossed him back onto the desk. “Careful there,” he added as whichclothes and the woman headed out of the room.
Spike sat up, leaned against the pile of books, and stared off into space. His face kept turning though, drifting towards the Xander-doll lying on the bed. It was hard not to look. Xander's skin was paler than Spike remembered although that might have been because he was dressed all in black. His pants were black. He had on some sort of tight, tight black shirt – not that Spike was looking or anything - but the topper was his leather jacket. Spike just couldn't keep his eyes off of the boy, er, doll. He turned his head away, for all of twenty seconds. Xander looked... delicious. “And why am I sitting here alone?” he asked himself.
Spike stood and with a “Got to find a better way to get around”, tossed himself off the desk. It was a quick climb up to the bed, given his motivation, but then Spike was kicking himself for the lameness of his “Come here often?” line until he thought he saw a smirk play itself across Xander's lips. “Quiet, are ya? That's all right; I'm bold enough for the both of us.”
Spike leaned in for a kiss. Xander's lips twitched under his but didn't move otherwise. “Playing coy? Like a challenge, I do,” Spike said as he kissed his way across Xander's jaw and to his neck. As Spike rubbed his hand across Xander's chest, the jacket fell back. “Hey,” he said, sounding pleased. “Your clothes come off.” Thoughts of how Xander would look naked had him pushing up the shirt until Xander's torso was revealed in all its glory. “Nice abs,” he said as he lowered his head to kiss his way along the ridges.
“Time to lose these,” Spike leered as he slipped his hand under Xander's pants. He looked up, turned his head to the side a bit, and shifted his hand around. “Bloody hell,” he shouted as he pulled his hand out of the pants and threw himself on the bed next to Xander. “Neither one of us has cocks!”
They both stared up at the ceiling without speaking. After a few moments, Spike slipped his hand on top of Xander's.
Yarn!Spike checks out the house
“I can't believe I'm the one that bint shipped halfway around the world. I mean, I beat that stupid, coat-less yarn doll every time. Should've counted for something. Best man should win and all that.” Spike didn't think too deeply about those fights. whichclothes had kept putting him and the other Spike into unnatural positions, which his mind was firmly insisting were wrestling maneuvers.
Spike came to the top of the stairs and pictured himself crawling down step by step. “I don't bloody think so.” He threw himself down. Unfortunately, being made of yarn, he didn't have enough weight to carry him very far so he had to toss himself down the steps five times before he hit the bottom.
Picking himself up, he saw a couch, covered in a heavy weave of tan and black plaid, a coffee table that was obviously made from pressed wood, and a huge tv. “Ugh,” he said to himself. “Furniture just hasn't been the same since IKEA showed up on the scene.”
He wobbled into the room and saw movement to his right. Spike looked all the way up to the ceiling and then back down to the floor. The entire wall was covered in a mirror, one with meandering streams of something that didn't really look like gold scattered across it. “Oh, you've got to be kidding me.”
As he started turning back towards the tv, hoping he could find Passions on, he noticed the movement again. “Hey!” he shouted. “I can see myself in the mirror!” As he wobbled toward his reflection, he added, “Not bad looking for a doll. At least I got the cool coat. Take that other Spike. No cheekbones though. What, has the bint never seen me? Could have used some fingers. How lazy can you– White socks?“ Spike shuddered and quickly looked upwards. “Hair is a bit of all right though. Hmm, mouth doesn't open. Wonder how I'm able to talk mmmph mmph. Mmmph! Mmp mph mmmph!”
Yarn!Spike finds cigarettes
“At least she shipped me someplace where people smoke,” Spike said as his knitted boots walked across the table to the smokes. “Damn! No lighter.” He looked around the kitchen. “Where would I be if I were a lighter?” His thoughts turned to the purse he'd seen in the living room. “Worth a try.”
Not wanting to climb up after them again, Spike kicked the pack of cigarettes off the table and then threw himself to the floor. He picked up the pack and placed it under his arm. It slipped to the floor before he'd taken two steps. He tried again. The pack fell to the floor again. He picked up the pack and held it between his knitted hands. He managed four steps before the pack fell to the floor. “Fine, you wait here,” he said, giving the pack a kick. It slid away, stopping about a foot from the table.
Spike wobbled all the long way to the living room. He tried to open the snap on the purse by putting his arms between the snap and the body of the leather purse, but it wouldn't budge. He shoved his head under the strap and pushed as hard as he could. Nothing!
With a sigh, Spike wobbled through the living room, past the stairs, and into the study. The desk was at the far end. Spike fell as his knitted boots slid against the floor. He fell again. And again. He tried crawling, but his knitted hands and feet couldn't get a grip on the slick surface. He stood and fell, again and again, as he determinedly made his way across the room.
Finally, he made it. The desk had ornately carved legs, which made it easy to climb, especially compared to the walk across the floor. At the top of the desk, Spike found a pen. Tossing it to the floor, he threw himself down after and landed just in time to see it roll under the desk. Spike slipped and fell and slipped and fell until he made his way to the pen. Holding it at his side like a cane, he managed six steps before he fell. The pen rolled off. Spike slipped and fell his way to the pen. Using it once again as a cane, he managed five steps before he fell, but this time he held onto the pen. It was take about six steps and fall all the way across the room. Spike sighed with relief when his feet found the living room carpet. Wobbling his way back to the purse felt like a breeze after the torment of the study floor.
Spike stood on the leather purse as he wedged the pen between the purse and the snap. He kept lifting the pen until, with an audible snap, the purse opened. Peering in, Spike spotted the lighter right away. He wrapped his knitted hands around it and pulled. It slipped and fell even further into the purse. “Oh come on,” he shouted. Spike knocked the purse over and pulled out its contents – Blood Moon lipstick, tissues, some sort of gum that felt like it'd been there forever, and assorted odd things he was afraid to try and identify – until the lighter lay on the floor.
He wrapped his arm around the lighter, having no bones had to be good for something, and wobbled back to the kitchen where he more than appreciated the grooved tiled surface that let him walk taking a tumble every bloody step.
The smokes were gone. Spike dropped the lighter and sank over it. If he'd had tear ducts, he would have cried. With a sigh, he stood himself up and started climbing the chair to see if the pack had been put back on the table. He'd just reached the seat when he had a thought. Tossing himself back to the floor, he kicked the lighter until it was hidden below the edge of a cabinet, and then he climbed back up the chair.
The smokes weren't on the table. He could see them on the counter though so he threw himself to the floor, climbed the handles of the cabinet drawers, and tossed both the smokes and himself down.
He tried to pull a cigarette out of the box, but his hands wouldn't fit in so Spike upended the whole box. Cigs rolled everywhere. With a loud sigh, he fetched one and brought it back to the lighter. He slammed his hand down on the metal spikes atop the flint wheel. The yarn stuck.
“Hey!” he shouted to the empty room. “Did you bloody well think about my design at all before you made me?”
Spike has a Nightmare by Skargasm
Spike woke with a jerk, instantly reaching down beneath his sheets to make sure his cock was still there. Phew, yep definitely still packing - he wasn't the big bad for nothing. He sighed with relief, the details of the dream coming back to him in dribs and drabs.
Oh my God, what about Xander?! He turned over and ignoring the grumbling that came from his sleeping companion, swiftly rolled him over and checked at his groin. With a sigh of relief, he ran his hand over his favourite instrument of pleasure, a smirk crossing his face as it automatically raised it's head towards him.
"Egnhusfset." Xander lifted his head from the pillow groggily and gave Spike a sleepy glare.
"I said I've got work tomorrow - you been takin' viagra again?"
"Cheeky sod! I had an awful nightmare Xan - I was a knitted doll, with little embroidery fangs that I couldn't bite anyone with and I could only get around by throwing myself off furniture! And, and Broody McForehead was there and so was Red. And then I saw ya an' ya were knitted too, but ya had some lovely kit on ya. So i tried to seduce ya but when I ripped your trous off you didn't have a cock and neither did I!" Turning over onto his back with a sigh, Xander reached over and tugged Spike into his arms, slightly surprised to find his vampire was shaking. That must have been some dream.
"S'ok Bleachy - look, see. You've got all your bits and pieces - which my ass can attest to quite strenuously thank you very much! And Little Xander is happily sleeping and not coming out to play again despite all impressions to the contrary. Ok?" With a sigh, Spike snuggled up to Xander, resting his head on his boy's chest so he could hear the reassuring thud of his heart. Bloody horrible dream that was - maybe there had been something in those pretzels he'd put in his blood to give it some texture.
"Yeah, ok. Night Xan - sorry I woke ya." Yawning, Xander stroked his hand down the silky smoothness of Spike's back rhythmically until he felt the body in his arms relax and Spike drifted off to sleep. Scratching lightly at the nape of Spike's neck, something caught against his fingernail that didn't feel like Spike's heavily gelled hair. He tugged until it came away from Spike's head, and holding it up he squinted to see it in the dimness of their bedroom. It looked like a piece of yellow wool, but he couldn't think where Spike would have come into contact with it.
Deciding his befuddled brain could figure it out in the morning, he tossed it over the side of the bed where it floated down to rest on the floor. Dropping a kiss on the only part of Spike's head that he could reach, he yawned again and closed his eyes, falling gently asleep with the comforting weight of his vampire glommed on top of him.
In an alternate universe, whichclothes picked up a knitting book and exclaimed with delight upon seeing the a pattern for a knitted doll and the clothes for it. Walking around the wool shop, she grabbed some yarn - white for skin, yellow for hair, black for the clothes and oh yes, she would need some embroidery thread if she was going to make some fangs.........
Plasticine Portents by Emelye
Disclaimer: Not mine. Not any little part of it.
Warnings: None so far.
Summary: Picking up from skargasm's contribution to dragonyphoenix's Yarn!Spike Verse inspired by whichclothes obsessive need to handicraft pretty vampires.
A/N: You all suck.
Xander awoke slowly, turning instinctively into Spike’s embrace.
Or he would have had Spike been there beside him.
Xander rolled off the tiny wooden chair onto the carpet with alarm.
“Oh dear, mustn’t topple yourself, dearie, or no tea for you. You’ll make mummy cross and she’ll have to tie you to the chair like a naughty little kitten.”
Xander was bent awkwardly, laying on his side, and immobile when a large, cold hand closed around him and he was suddenly staring up into Drusilla’s enormous face.
“Now be a good boy and play nicely with the others. I went to so much trouble to find you especially for my Spikey.”
Xander would have tried to fight her off but he was finding his limbs more unresponsive and, in fact, plastic than usual. She plunked him back in the chair. Also seated at the table was a despondent looking knitted facsimile of his vampire snuggle bunny, and someone Xander could only assume was Miss Edith.
He suddenly suspected if he were to check, he would, in fact, have no penis.
“Now, Spikey, isn’t this so much nicer? No nasty Slayer to turn your soft little head and such a lovely dark kitten to play with. I think we’re all going to be very best friends…”
Xander woke screaming.
Spike sat up, unblinking, struggling to orient himself while half asleep. “Xan? What? Lemme at him!”
Xander struggled to calm himself and patted Spike’s shoulder. Followed by his cock. Followed by his own cock.
Finding everything as it should be he tucked his vampire back under the covers. “Nothing. Just a nightmare. Go back to sleep.”
“Mmkay…” he mumbled as he dropped back off.
Xander took a few deep breaths before laying down and closing his own eyes.
Definitely no more kielbasa before bed…
In a parallel universe, not dissimilar to our own, Drusilla was pouting.
“Those little dollies don’t play the game by the rules.” With a pinch of hellebore and a puff of smoke she returned the woolen Spike and his plastic lover to their original dimension. “They didn’t like my little dream, Miss Edith. Shall we find you a new playmate?”
Miss Edith allowed Drusilla to bring over the Red witch and the Dark vampire, but it wasn’t the same.
Her doll dreams would always be occupied by yellow yarn hair and blue embroidered eyes…
Spike Watches the Kids
I thought I was done with these, I really did, but I was commenting on Accidental Fatherhood and devo79 made a comment about Yarn!Spike babysitting Xander and Angel's kids.
Note: I asked for and received devo79's permission before posting this story.
Tiny fingers brushed against Wesley's arm as the hand grabbed onto the chair for support. Shrieking, Wesley clutched the scrolls to his chest – to keep them safe – as he leaped to his feet. He barely noticed the drool covered chin below the small fangs as the face fell away from his. A scream worthy of a banshee erupted as Liam's butt hit the floor. Wesley's head turned towards an answering cry that came from the hallway as Kathy, whose crawling couldn't keep up with her brother's uneven steps, responded to his distress.
Dropping his precious scrolls back onto the table, Wesley scooped up Liam and ran towards the sound of the crying baby. “Spike,” he shouted as Liam, rubbing his face against Wesley's shirt, left a smear of tears and snot. “I thought you were watching them.”
“Not a lot I could do,” Spike snarled back. “You're the git who turned me into a bloody doll.” Leaning over, Wesley picked up Kathy, who had a death grip on the knitted Spike.
Wesley didn't think twice about plopping them all down on the leather couch that they usually reserved for clients. Keeping drool off of tomes was much more important and, besides, it wasn't his duty to keep the furniture clean. “You were supposed to keep them out of trouble while I researched the counter-spell.”
“How?” Spike replied.
“Well, just be authoritative,” Wesley replied uncertainly.
Liam reached over and started gnawing on Spike, his fangs going through the knitted arm. “Hey! You stop that,” Spike shouted at the toddler. Liam gnawed harder. Kathy stopped crying and stared at Liam's teeth chomping through Spike. “Wesley, stop him,” Spike cried out. “If I have huge sodding holes in my arms when you turn me back...” Kathy tried to get her mouth around Spike's head. “Stop her,” Spike yelled. “She's getting drool in my eyes.”
Wesley tried to pull the kids further apart so at least one of them would let go. Spike shrieked, “Watch it! You're about to tear my arm off.” The door of the Hyperion opened. Xander and Angel stopped, stared at the chaos before them, glanced at each other, and closed the door before they quietly backed out into the night.
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