Send it to me, too--I can take a look sometime in the next couple days.
Wesley: And how does your kind define love? Demon: Same as all bodies. Same as everywheres. Love is sacrifice.
'The Girl in Question'
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.
Susan W. - Jul 23, 2005 5:09:12 pm PDT #3293 of 10001
Good Trouble and Righteous Fights
Fay - Jul 23, 2005 5:22:14 pm PDT #3294 of 10001
"Fuck Western ideologically-motivated gender identification!" Sulu gasped, and came.
Insent. But - it's not me at my most lyrical. Er. Well, we'll see - if you think that the tone is all wrong, then maybe I'll need a rethink.
SailAweigh - Jul 23, 2005 6:15:56 pm PDT #3295 of 10001
Nana korobi, ya oki. (Fall down seven times, stand up eight.) ~Yuzuru Hanyu/Japanese proverb
Comments backflung, Fay.
deborah grabien - Jul 23, 2005 7:59:15 pm PDT #3296 of 10001
It really doesn't matter. It's just an opinion. Don't worry about it. Not worth the hassle.
FAY! send send send!
Anne W. - Jul 24, 2005 2:44:19 am PDT #3297 of 10001
The lost sheep grow teeth, forsake their lambs, and lie with the lions.
I'd love to see it if you don't mind, Fay.
Fay - Jul 24, 2005 3:42:12 am PDT #3298 of 10001
"Fuck Western ideologically-motivated gender identification!" Sulu gasped, and came.
Oooh. Gosh. Insent. Thank you, ladies!
deborah grabien - Jul 24, 2005 8:09:58 am PDT #3299 of 10001
It really doesn't matter. It's just an opinion. Don't worry about it. Not worth the hassle.
Fay, back to you with a couple of questions, ma'am.
Today I write. I wish to hell Nic had installed the new ceiling fan in my office, though. It's frickin' hot.
Fay - Jul 24, 2005 8:15:43 am PDT #3300 of 10001
"Fuck Western ideologically-motivated gender identification!" Sulu gasped, and came.
Cheers, Deb! insent
deborah grabien - Jul 24, 2005 8:24:08 am PDT #3301 of 10001
It really doesn't matter. It's just an opinion. Don't worry about it. Not worth the hassle.
Fay, a sizeable backflung to you, with another one coming.
I need to make a bellini, to go with my coffee. Yay, Tour de France!
Beverly - Jul 24, 2005 6:29:45 pm PDT #3302 of 10001
Days shrink and grow cold, sunlight through leaves is my song. Winter is long.
Way over the word limit. More of a guideline, really.
Burning
I picked up the cat and walked away up the garden. She didn't understand things like fire, and I didn't want her to be frightened, or hurt.
"Where're you going, chicken?" he called. I turned to see him, bare except for swim trunks, bending toward the pile of branches and grass clippings interspersed with old papers needing to be destroyed. The cuttings were green, and he'd doused the shoulder-height pile with gasoline to help it along. Neither of us noticed that the breeze had died in the early evening. I saw the match strike, felt the ground shake, and felt rather than heard an almost subaudible whoomp. I saw him engulfed in a fifteen-foot fireball.
I didn't have time to register what I was seeing. The fireball was gone, the fumes consumed on the instant of flash. He turned and stepped away, threw himself down on the ground and rolled up again, ran over to me, "I'm okay, I'm okay."
I saw strips, like torn trousers, fluttering from his legs, and his scorched eyebrows. "You need to go to the ER."
"Nah, I'm fine. Pretty exciting, huh?"
No, I really don't think you are, I thought. What came out was, "Okay, but you might want to go rinse off..."
"Yeah," he grinned. "Maybe I should."
By the time I followed him to the bathroom the adrenaline had begun to wear off and he was shivering. "It's starting to hurt. I don't think I can drive." I soaked a sheet in cold water and laid it around his bare shoulders. "Get in the car."