51? Damn... I have... uh... 10?

Which is thoroughly respectable. I think I'm an aberration.

Which is thoroughly respectable.

I think that is the single most insulting thing I've ever had said about me. How dare you imply that I'm thoroughly respectable? Take that back!

I think that is the single most insulting thing I've ever had said about me. How dare you imply that I'm thoroughly respectable? Take that back!

Which I meant in a completely porny matter. Bitch.

I gotta watch out for my reputation, Bitch. A rumour about me being respectable could spread like wildfire and come back to haunt me. All the people laughing when I post porn. It'd be a blood bath.

Yeah, but Hec'd taunt them all for you. And ita might maim them.

Yeah, except Hec and ita would be the ones laughing... And so would you....

I should do a story count. And a word count.

I've been Insane Productive Chica lately.

I was about to "ten? That's more than I've got," but then I went and actual counted what I've posted on my site, and there are like twenty, plus remix and slashing-the-slashers, and the epic that's still in beta, that aren't there. 14 in Buffy and Angel, and since the end of Febuary, 15 in MASH. Some of them are very short, but damn-- 15 stories in a month? That's insane!

Tiny smidgen more Andrew.

* * *

"I need to pee."

He wasn't whining, because Evil Geniuses didn't whine. Not even former Evil Geniuses. But his bladder hurt, and the ropes chafed, and his ass was numb, and he hadn't brushed his teeth or bathed or changed his underwear in nearly three days, and everyone was being mean to him. And he'd recently been dragged through a wall backwards by a vampire and felt its cold lips close over his throat and then the sudden, sharp pain of pierced skin and suction before Buffy intervened - which was kind of like getting a hickey, only about a gazillion times more terrifying. Not that he'd ever gotten a hickey. And Warren was dead, and Jonathan was dead, and they were both hanging out somewhere watching all this and laughing, like Obi Wan and Vader with all their enmity forgotten. So there might have been just a little hint of a whimper in his voice. Maybe. But there was totally no call for Xander to look at him like he'd just crawled out from under a rock. Xander wasn't even a superhero. He didn't have any special powers at all. Although he had dated a demon, which was - different. Andrew hadn't ever done that - although he'd seen some pictures in one of Tucker's old demonology books that had made him wonder whether maybe - but that ritual was really difficult, and after the third time he'd tried it there was still no succubus, and the scorch marks and chicken blood on the mattress had been kind of hard to explain to his mom.

"Please?" Definitely a whimper. But it had been a really lousy couple of days.

Oh, Fay.

Not even former Evil Geniuses. But his bladder hurt, and the ropes chafed, and his ass was numb, and he hadn't brushed his teeth or bathed or changed his underwear in nearly three days, and everyone was being mean to him.

This is so unbelievably, perfectly Andrew - one of the few smiles I've managed most of the day.

More please.