skips several hundred posts.

What. Victor. Said.

Don't ever do that again. Please.

I've got to go with Victor on this one. Even tubby man love would be better.

See, to me badfic usually means bad writing - either bad spelling, punctuation, syntax, grammar, or bad characterisation, weak plot, cliched writing. And this wasn't that. This is another level of fic - it's like a snuff film with really nice sets and costumes.

And this wasn't that. This is another level of fic - it's like a snuff film with really nice sets and costumes.

Oh my.

No offense intended... I want to say that I mean that in a good way - but, really, there's no good about it, is there.... I think it was well written, it was in character, it was plausible. And, really, that makes it hard to dismiss or ignore.

what she said.

No offense intended... I want to say that I mean that in a good way - but, really, there's no good about it, is there.... I think it was well written, it was in character, it was plausible. And, really, that makes it hard to dismiss or ignore.

None taken.

Distancing myself emotionally from the actual material, and trying to look at it with an eye to how I managed to do this, when it's pretty much everything I find revolting in fic writing, is proving interesting.

I'm curious, for other writers, if you've ever written something that appalled your very own self, and if so, how it happened.

I'm sure I have, though I can't remember specifics at the moment. It's sort of... you get an idea, and you let reasonable circumstance take over. It becomes, if Slot A goes holds tab B, then of course Slot C will hold tab D. It feels inevitable.

This is where my theory of "truth in fiction" comes in. Some things happen, and are true, even if they didn't actually happen. The people feel like real people doing real things. It's all plausible. Circumstances like this occur. It all fits together. You couldn't force Willow to like that; that would have been untrue. You couldn't make her take him out; that would have been untrue. Once you have the premise, there are very few things that can follow that would be "true".

I've written things that surprised me. Things that I was surprised I enjoyed. This I really just shrug off as a learning experience. Journey of self-discovery and all.

The things that I've been ashamed of after the fact tend to be anything mawkish or sentimental.

Huh. Wrote a sequel.

Black with rage, black with grief, Willow stares at Warren. He is, she thinks, like Snyder. Weak, horrible, unable to get anything without the threat of force. Snyder used his position of authority, Warren used a gun.

She considers, for a moment, twisting the shape of his body into Snyder's. Slowly, painfully, artistically. But she's seen Snyder get his, even if she didn't have anything to do with it. She needs to see it happen to Warren.

Focusing, she pushes the scent of scorched flesh, blood, and gunpowder up his nose, fills his ears with the sound she can't escape, the sound of Tara's body hitting the floor. Fills his eyes with the sight of his own mouth opening to scream as she stitches it shut. Floods him with the same feelings of rage and humiliation she felt when Snyder touched her, then adds the physical sensation for good measure.

He'll pay. They'll all pay.

Willow's through suffering.