I gots to say, my peeps, that feedback crack is addictive. Just reading what a few people have said on Silverlake in the "Feedback Friday" posts -- I'm all high on the comments.

People -- like Deb -- have said they want more. I don't think I have bunny for more vamp!Faith, but while I was loafing around in the MRI machine today (ha), I distracted myself from panicking by thinking of other bunnies, and I *think* I'm going to flip "Redux" and write it from Faith's POV.

And Connie, I wanted to ask you if you had posted your Aragorn-Eowyn fic to Silverlake, because I noticed that someone posted Grima/Eowyn. I didn't read it. ::shudder::

and I *think* I'm going to flip "Redux" and write it from Faith's POV

Ooh, ooh! Do it, please.

Heh, Elena, how did I know you would say that? It's more obvious to me, but less obvious than to the Lizard. Will have to pay more attention to their scenes. For a Scooby-honey K.'s character is sort of undeveloped, but I'm still interested, obviously.

But erika, this is one of the reasons we have fanfic - to develop characters.

Yeah, that's what I'm thinking.

Damn you connie, damn you to Hell! Wait, you live in Utah. Never mind.

I have a t-shirt, a birthday present from before I ever imagined I'd live here, that says "Eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow you may live in Utah." Doesn't fit anymore, but I still have it.

Silverlake, hm? I hadn't looked over htere yet. Damn, I'm feeling utterly whorish putting my stuff in places I don't hang out. Remind me that this is a good thing, please.

edit: But apparently "Reflections" has ignited a mini-firestorm on BBF of mostly facetious anti-explicit-slashness. The story's being held up as just the thing for the sophisticated palate that doesn't need explicit boinkage, I believe is how they put it. Snerk. This is the same board that just asked to archive "Lament of Ganymede," which DOES have Ethan and Giles in bed.

Silverlake, hm? I hadn't looked over htere yet. Damn, I'm feeling utterly whorish putting my stuff in places I don't hang out. Remind me that this is a good thing, please.

I don't hang out at G_O or Silverlake. And yet I happily pimped myself. I'm thinking of posting "Persuasion" (Giles/Spike) to Silverlake, even though it's old.

Dude, Silverlake's like, the only place that gets basically EVERYTHING.

Hello, salty multi-fandom goodness what lets me archive Henry Kissinger Slash. Booo-yah, baby!

I loves them.

Gronk. Finished the Gunn/Wes getting back together bit.

"Maybe because I still love you."

That isn't the response he was expecting. Maybe the ulterior motives weren't what he thought they were. When he looks up, he realizes Gunn looks just as shocked at what he said as Wesley was to hear it.

He sighs and stops his fidgeting. "It's a bad habit. Loving me, that is. It has an alarming tendency towards fatality."

He thinks he can hear Gunn's eyes roll at his words, the action is that exaggerated. "Do I look dead to you?

He doesn't. Gunn looks like he always has: strong, stubborn, vital. Everything about him clashes with the muted blues and greys of Wesley's living room, just as so much about him clashes with the blurry greys (steel or gunmetal, tinged red around the edges) of Wesley's self. Just another reminder of what he can't be and what he can't have. He shakes his head.

"Didn't think so." Gunn crosses the room and the sofa lets out an aching groan of protest as Gunn flops down next to him, long limbs sprawling like he owns the thing. He leans forward and picks up Wesley's discarded bread, flattening a slice between his palms and attempting to fold it as if it were origami paper. He gives up quickly and sets it next to Wesley's more artistic mutilations. "Stop blaming yourself."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Not your fault, so quit acting like it was."

"Is this the part where you give me an inspirational speech, I turn my life around, and you go back home feeling like the better man?" He hates the tone of his voice, the clipped lilt of sarcasm. "Pat yourself on the back and tell everyone you've performed your good deed for the week? Don't you dare presume to tell me how I should feel, Gunn. Lilah's dead, and I might as well be the one who killed her."

He's used the word. Nothing really feels different, there's no sudden sense of closure snapping into focus, but he's used the word. Dead. He supposes that's something.

"Yeah, well, last I checked, she'd have been dead with the rest of Wolfram and Hart if you hadn't gone and dragged her evil ass out of there." Gunn sighs. "If I smacked you upside the head, would it beat some sense into that pretty head of yours?"

"She liked to watch Judge Judy and provide a running commentary on how Wolfram and Hart would handle the cases. She'd sneak in while I was away and do my laundry, then rearrange my dresser drawers so that I'd find socks when looking for my trousers. She had excellent taste in everything from clothing to books to armaments, and appalling taste in popular entertainment. How do I reconcile that woman with the woman who nearly got the lot of us killed any number of times for the sheer joy of it?" It's the most he's ever said to anyone about Lilah.

Gunn sinks into the corner of the sofa and folds his arms across his chest. "Same way I reconcile the fact that half the time I want to kiss you, and the other half I want to kick your ass? Loving someone don't make them good or good for you."

"And I, I assume, am neither." It's almost a relief, knowing that even if Gunn confirms that he thinks the worst of him still, it doesn't appear matter anymore. There's a question that Wesley can't help but ask; if it comes out wrong, he'll blame the alcohol. "Which is it right now?"

"Which what?" Gunn looks wary, his shoulders stiffening slightly, arms still crossed.

"Which half of the time?"

He thinks for a minute that it's gone very badly indeed, that he's made another miscalculation, and then Gunn smiles ever so slightly and uncrosses his arms. "Little of both, but mostly kissing. Not tonight, though. That wouldn't be fair to you or me. I get through shoveling Bloody Marys and scrambled eggs down your throat tomorrow? Whole new ball game."

It's an unexpected lifeline. "You promise?"

"Promise." Gunn has the stubborn look on his face that says he'll keep that promise if it kills him. It's the same look he had when Wesley was in hospital after taking that bullet, when Wesley told him to go and get some rest and he refused.

Tonight he'll say goodbye one last time, put her things back in the box and accept that he cannot change the past. Tomorrow, if he feels up to it (and Gunn's probably correct in assuming that Wesley will be more than a little hung over), he'll take most of the contents somewhere and give them the decent burial that she never got. He walks back to the table and stares at her picture for a moment, then raises the glass of melted ice and silently asks for forgiveness (from whom, he's not sure) before putting everything away. For the first time in longer than he can remember, he's looking forward to the morning.