I just got home and since everyone else had already gotten to the good manroot, I figured I'd have to come up with something a little more lame (and tame.)
You're nice, and you're funny and you don't smoke, and okay, werewolf, but that's not all the time. I mean, three days out of the month, I'm not much fun to be around, either.
Willow ,'Get It Done'
The Great Write Way, Chapter Two: Twice upon a time...
A place for Buffistas to discuss, beta and otherwise deal and dish on their non-fan fiction projects.
SailAweigh - May 09, 2005 1:06:58 pm PDT #1970 of 10001
Nana korobi, ya oki. (Fall down seven times, stand up eight.) ~Yuzuru Hanyu/Japanese proverb
Strix - May 09, 2005 1:20:18 pm PDT #1971 of 10001
A dress should be tight enough to show you're a woman but loose enough to flee from zombies. — Ginger
Canny shook back her main of fiery hair to her tiny waist, man-spannable. Her delicate nostrils flaired as a wave of pure lust hit her aromatically like ten thousand battering rams through her conciousness.
It was the scent of aroused vampire!
He loomed before her, a towering bulwark of dangerous sexuality. Sex shimmered off him like the sun blazing back up from the hard desert floor. Even her stubborn strength of will, smelted in the furnace of her soul, could not defy the lure of his beguilment.
His dark dangerous eyes shot out messages to her. Come to me! he shouted silently, and her head lolled back on its fragile stem, submission writ on every straining line of her. She felt her feminine core turn liqiud, like a great puddle of butter, melting in sun. Her horsewoman's thighs trembled, then loosened in acquiesence.
And the dark night came upon her.
SailAweigh - May 09, 2005 1:22:39 pm PDT #1972 of 10001
Nana korobi, ya oki. (Fall down seven times, stand up eight.) ~Yuzuru Hanyu/Japanese proverb
Oh, geez, Erin. My next submission is going to seem lame compared to yours. Oh, well. May this one (not) bear fruit.
Man Lips! Lips of Man!
He’s so beautiful. Those sleepy, cerulean orbs that beckon to me with every sultry glance across the table. He’s picking up one of the glistening, ripe red strawberries (like his pouty lips) and dipping it into the gooey, chocolaty goodness. My mouth waters, waiting for the touch of either of those exquisite comestibles. I want to pluck them with my lips and enjoy their juicy goodness, feel their wetness melting in my mouth and flowing over my palate, a river of delight for my tongue to swim in. Could any one man be so scrumptious and yummy as he is?
Susan W. - May 09, 2005 1:25:53 pm PDT #1973 of 10001
Good Trouble and Righteous Fights
Wow, we're brilliant at the badsex!
The funny thing is, I'm just at the point of the wip where it's building up to the first sex scenes. Which hopefully will be goodsex--all hot without being hokey, and significant and specific to these characters.
A tough enough thing to do without the ghost of one's Baptist grandmother staring over one's shoulder.
Atropa - May 09, 2005 1:50:50 pm PDT #1974 of 10001
The artist formerly associated with cupcakes.
129 words, but I kept giggling when I wrote it:
Dear Diary,
It finally happened! After all those nights sneaking out to the cemetery, I finally met HIM. He wouldn’t admit it, but I know he’s a vampire. He’s so brooding and mysterious! And gentlemanly – he kissed my hand and called me ‘delectable’! We talked for hours, until I almost missed the last bus home (and it would have sucked to walk home at three in the morning!)
As soon as Mom & Dad fall asleep tonight, I’m going to meet him. I’m wearing my black lace dress that Mom wanted me to return (but I hid in the back of my closet) and my cape from last year’s Halloween costume. I have to look perfect for my Dark Prince.
I’m going to become a vampire! I can’t wait!
Atropa - May 09, 2005 2:21:03 pm PDT #1975 of 10001
The artist formerly associated with cupcakes.
Oh dear, I killed the thread. Sorry!
Cashmere - May 09, 2005 2:22:53 pm PDT #1976 of 10001
Now tagless for your comfort.
I only have the opener:
The moon was swollen and yellow in the velvet black of the night sky. The color reminded Patrice of urine. She shook her head as if to shake away the memories of that awful night in Nashville and the ensuing mayhem that resulted from her dog Henry's unfortunate taste for ecstasy, root beer and stale Cheetos.
She could hardly blame Reese for leaving her high and dry after that. Well, high, anyway.
SailAweigh - May 09, 2005 2:26:59 pm PDT #1977 of 10001
Nana korobi, ya oki. (Fall down seven times, stand up eight.) ~Yuzuru Hanyu/Japanese proverb
Cash, just borrow some of Jilli's words, she ran over. And you're both talking about night, kinda. It should work, just like a Mad Libs book.
deborah grabien - May 09, 2005 3:02:08 pm PDT #1978 of 10001
It really doesn't matter. It's just an opinion. Don't worry about it. Not worth the hassle.
smelted in the furnace of her soul
Do you know, it's really really really really REALLY frellin' nice to have a break from writing angst?
This topic is making me so damned happy...
edit: any bets on who uses the phrase "swooning, half-carried away on the tide of passion" first? Because I may be tapped out on bad for a day or two, over here. That shit is really tricky to write.
Steph L. - May 09, 2005 3:10:09 pm PDT #1979 of 10001
the hardest to learn / was the least complicated
The desert lay before him, on the other side of the steering wheel. It was a big desert. Big and empty and dry. Like his heart.
"Good," Jake thought, throwing a cigarette butt out the window into the hot, scorching air of the empty desert. "This desert is the only place I belong right now."
He knew his sensitive soul wouldn't be able to survive in a place teeming with other people's emotions, assaulting him with every breath he took, every thump of his heart. No, he needed this broiling hot vista, because it was empty.
So he drove on.
[[100 words exactly!]]