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.

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.

This actually choked me up a little. Damn allergies.

Good, Fay. Funny too.

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.

I loved this.

Fay, I think it started beautifully and went to incredible. There were a couple of things in the first part that didn't sound quite right to my inner ear:

The girls kept on showing up, shocky-eyed and jumpy --

kept on and shocky sound odd there, to me.

books and carefully labelled videos and the mint condition figurines, and all the magazines and fanzines and Top Trumps sets and all the things that mattered were gone.

I think he'd be more likely to do a list; star wars three through 6, blade runner, original trek, TNG, etc. (only much better worded) over carefully labeled videos, and I think he'd list the actual names of the zines rather than just calling them fanzines.

they ought to have a proper name

I think he'd say something more like "real" name instead of proper

from there on I think it just sails, perfectly smoothly and very much in his voice.

I'm really enjoying your Andrew.

Liking it a lot, Fay. I don't recognize 'Top Trumps' is that an English-version name for something I should know?