'Our Mrs. Reynolds'
A place for Buffistas to discuss, beta and otherwise deal and dish on their non-fan fiction projects.
So, Jack's hand running through his hair, and comes away with a sense memory of Anna? And he knows it? Does she know it?
She wouldn't know it, I don't think. She's nothing unusual in the intuition/empathy department, and she's got her own overwhelming rush of physical and emotional sensations to cope with at the moment.
I mean, it was quite some kiss, if I do say so myself.
Swing Me, Baby
Would you look at them? A couple hausfrau-cum-partygirls dying for someone to ask them to do something a little naughty. Took off their pearls and put on peek-a-boo panties, hoping for some John Doe to ask for a peek of their pampered pussies. Do they really believe that just any Joe Schmoe is going to make them a queen instead of Mrs. Howard Kendall-Smythe from Suburbville, USA? It doesn’t matter what they wear, Chanel No. 5 or Avon Cotillion, they’ll always smell of the nursery. There’s only one queen here, darling, and we both know who he is, don’t we?
The Ogred-Vole boating incident of May 1897 is still hotly debated in occult circles. Did Hortense really step off the boat into the depths of Lake Waulingstone to become the bride of an underwater spirit, as her sister Hibiscus claimed? Or is it true that Hibiscus pushed her older sister out of the boat to a watery death?
Reported to have a morbid fear of river rocks, Lady Hibiscus Ogred-Vole retreated to the family estate in 1901. In 1949, she was found dead in the library; her mouth and throat filled with silt.
Local legend claims that that Hortense can be seen walking just under the surface of the lake, wearing a crown and a flowing gown of duckweed.
Oh dear lord, I love these.
Sail, how much do I fucking love that one? Wonderful.
Great take on the intrepid boaters, Jilli. I love this: "In 1949, she was found dead in the library; her mouth and throat filled with silt."
Amy, that one came while I was driving home from work today. I had to stop at the library to pick up a hold request and as soon as I got there I pulled out my little notebook from my purse so I could jot it all down. I was so afraid I'd forget some of the phrases I wanted to use by the time I got home, if I didn't.
And Jilli's was very gothic. Taking a nice, sunny day of boating and turning into something dark. I loved it!
And Jilli's was very gothic. Taking a nice, sunny day of boating and turning into something dark. I loved it!
beams
Of course, it helps that I've been listening to music inspired by Edward Gorey's work.
I've been floored by everyone else's pieces.
Of course, it helps that I've been listening to music inspired by Edward Gorey's work
Whatever floats your boat, Jilli. Or, not.
(giggling like a deranged thing over here)
Jilli, one does wonder if the Lady Hibiscus came from that wellknown Olde English town of Washbasin-on-the-Drainboard...
Don't forget to wear some flowers in your hair...
In the Service of Mister Bill Graham
Suitcase, ticket, purse. Suitcase, ticket, purse. Suitcase -
"I wish I was coming with you."
She glances at Chad, and tries to smile. Act normally. "You'd be bored to death. I'm going to look at Berkeley and UCSF." Act normally. Pretend the lie is the truth.
"You be careful, Jean. I've heard some wild rumours about Frisco."
Her fingers tighten momentarily. The response to a fan letter she wrote is folded small in her pocket. I could use a smart assistant - if you're ever out here...
"So, you'll be back when, again?"
It's a one-way ticket. Her little secret.