And yet, these aren't fic drabbles.
Nope, but I have an urge to write a Supernatural drabble around the topic.
Lilah ,'Destiny'
A place for Buffistas to discuss, beta and otherwise deal and dish on their non-fan fiction projects.
And yet, these aren't fic drabbles.
Nope, but I have an urge to write a Supernatural drabble around the topic.
Mebbe we could bend the rules, just for a week?
Oh, the people being sucked in by the SPN fandom....
(I can't cope with creepy shit, much like the way I can't cope with medical dramas -- if I watch them, I have a complete nervous breakdown. So SPN is not in my future, alas.)
With Pie
Dark and rich, I breathe in the aroma of the coffee in my cup. Out my window I can see the quilt of turned leaves that covers the ground and piles up against the coop in the backyard. A basket of apples sits on the balcony, keeping crisp in the cool air of the autumn afternoon. Later tonight, I’ll peel them, pile them high with a flurry of butter shavings before I put the crust on. I’ll surround myself with the sounds and smells of the last of the season. But, first, I take my axe in hand. It’s time.
Spooooky, Sail.
first, I take my axe in hand. It’s time.
to go hunt down demons?
(sorry, still stuck on SPN.)
Mebbe we could bend the rules, just for a week?
Bend how? By making it fic?
Better to apologize than ask permission.
I was just joking.
Comfort Food
The pie is leaking over the edges of the crust, oozing a deep purple sauce and fat, juicy berries. The shock of it against the bright, white plate makes my eyes go fuzzy. The rich brown of the café au lait in the equally bright coffee cup is much easier to look at. I need this comfort, though dammit. I need something that will make me feel better. This isn’t going to be it.
I pick up plate and cup and head toward the sink. Without rhyme or reason, I throw them both against the wall.
Now I feel better.