pftttpfptph!
I've been writing poetry fic, of all things, having finished my Chapter 12 of Matty Groves earlier. The topic being David Bowie song titles, I picked "Eight Line Poem" and went a little odd...
Oz is the highest-scoring person ever to fail to graduate.
Willow ,'Him'
The Great Write Way
A place for Buffistas to discuss, beta and otherwise deal and dish on their non-fan fiction projects.
deborah grabien - Jun 06, 2004 4:05:34 pm PDT #5120 of 10001
It really doesn't matter. It's just an opinion. Don't worry about it. Not worth the hassle.
Steph L. - Jun 07, 2004 5:42:14 pm PDT #5121 of 10001
I look more rad than Lutheranism
Once again, I am the slacker drabble moderator. In Ohio, it's still Monday, so I'm on time.
Drabble #8 (the blue drabble) is closed.
This week's drabble challenge is: fruit. Oh yes. From the lowly grape to the mighty Ugli fruit -- have at it. Get fruity with your bad selves.
Amy - Jun 07, 2004 5:47:48 pm PDT #5122 of 10001
Because books.
Wheee! Fruit. This should get porny quick. Crosses fingers.
§ ita § - Jun 07, 2004 6:00:52 pm PDT #5123 of 10001
Well not canonically, no, but this is transformative fiction.
I blink at her in incomprehension. It's not that Jamaica is a totally straight country, but it's hostile to the gay lifestyle. I've been brought up too many different places, too many different ways, to let her stay sheltered. She's open-minded, but she does have some cobwebs to shake off, and a new vernacular to acquire.
I'm walking her through it, as a good modern daughter should. Oh, but it's hard. She's arch, and she's tangential, and she's stubborn. And she knows me.
Suddenly I'm screaming.
"IT'S FRUIT FLY!!!! FOR THE LAST TIME ... STOP CALLING ME A FAGGOT MAGGOT!!!"
Pix - Jun 07, 2004 6:01:41 pm PDT #5124 of 10001
The status is NOT quo.
inspired by AmyLiz's comment above!
Porn. It always went right to porn with him.
Her eyes fell again to the cucumber she had picked up for the salad and the bunch of bananas she'd grabbed to slice onto her breakfast cereal. Her hands clenched around the yellow plastic of the handle and whitened with her grip. Couldn't even bring home the groceries without some sly comment or crude joke. It was like a disease with him, a twisted obsession. Decent people didn't talk like that.
Sick bastard.
She slapped the Vogue into the shopping cart like a reprimand.
Pix - Jun 07, 2004 6:16:30 pm PDT #5125 of 10001
The status is NOT quo.
ita, I love the power of that drabble. You really make me feel that tension between the mother/daughter. I love this line: "I'm walking her through it, as a good modern daughter should. Oh, but it's hard. She's arch, and she's tangential, and she's stubborn. And she knows me."
Amy - Jun 07, 2004 6:27:38 pm PDT #5126 of 10001
Because books.
These were both delicious. And Kristin delivered porn immediately! Praising the goddess of instant gratification, whose name is apparently Kristin.
ita, I wanted to say how much I loved "She's arch, and she's tangential, and she's stubborn," but Kristin beat me to. Worth repeating, though. And the ending was perfect.
Pix - Jun 07, 2004 6:30:37 pm PDT #5127 of 10001
The status is NOT quo.
t dies laughing
If I wasn't so in love with my current tag, I would so ask to tag "the goddess of instant gratification".
Though I have to say, I think I more delivered anti-porn. I decided to go way fictional and have fun playing the other side.
Amy - Jun 07, 2004 7:02:18 pm PDT #5128 of 10001
Because books.
I think I more delivered anti-porn
I guess my mind just went to where the cucumbers and bananas were leading... Oh, dear. Loved it either way.
Really, truly in bed now.
deborah grabien - Jun 07, 2004 9:35:05 pm PDT #5129 of 10001
It really doesn't matter. It's just an opinion. Don't worry about it. Not worth the hassle.
Oh, I *knew* where ita's was going! And I love Kristin's.
Someone said porn?
Summer Game
"Tell me what this is."
She adjusts her senses, those she can actually use; the blindfold is soft, blocking out all but stray darts of diffused light.
"Strawberry."
"Very good." He lets her nibble a bit. "What's this, then?"
Hot, heady, the stuff summer is made of. "Peach," she says dreamily, and licks juice from the overripe globe.
"Right," he says," one more to go."
Vagrant, sweet, tantalising, the scent dances away from her memory banks. "Um - canteloupe?"
"Bad girl. Try again."
"Honeydew!"
"Honeydew it is," he says, and moves the fruit out of reach, to kiss her instead.