Cause I'm not one of those people who thought it bad.(I think those were the first I watched.) But Connie's story is better.

Fay, what's the source of that Speranza quote? LJ or a story (and if so, which story?)

Yep, from a story rather than LJ. I've just had a little attack of Speranza catchup, so I'm not sure which one it was from. Probably Eight Session, Kawalski is Bleeding, An Admirable Solution, The Border Between Life and Death or The Killer Replacements.

DAMN, she's good. Not just in the characterisation and dialogue, but in terms of plot and structure. I can't think of another fanfic writer whose conscious use of the medium to facilitate structure - in a way that totally supports the narrative - has struck me to such an extent. She rocks. Plus - hot. And funny. And hot. And romantic.

What's not to love?

Fay, ITA about Speranza. It's kinda scary, but some of my favorite writers are fic writers. It's like the knowledge that you aren't writing for pay or publication opens you up to take greater risks with the style, structure, and content of your writing.

Speranza is the best. I'm a little afraid to actually watch dueSouth because I'm not sure it'll measure up to her writing.

Speranza is the best. I'm a little afraid to actually watch dueSouth because I'm not sure it'll measure up to her writing.

That is actually how Reema made me watch MotB. "It's just like Speranza, but filmed! And with less sex."

MotB?

Mounty on the Bounty, the due South episode.

Ah. Okay. I did see that episode - and I hate to burst bubbles, but not every Canadian knows all of the verses to 'Barrett's Privateers'. Though I'm fairly sure that we all know the chorus... It was in a beer commercial.

BtVS/Sandman crossover fic. Just written it, beta-ishness appreciated.

Desire's Creatures

"I don't think so," said the big bloke, startling the hell out of Spike. He glanced over his shoulder and directed an affable smile at them both. "No. I don't want to join you for dinner, thank you, and neither does Jan. Run along now."

"What the hell…?" spluttered Spike, thoroughly disgruntled. For one thing he'd been in full-on stealth mode, stalking, lurking, prowling, generally doing the whole dangerous predator thing, so the damned musician shouldn't have known he was being followed in the first place. And then this great lunk just turns round and looks at them both, and smiles, like he knows what they both are and still reckons that this dark alleyway is the safest place in the world.

Spike was acutely conscious that the balance of power had suddenly got itself shifted all to hell, and that Drusilla was watching him lose face. He darted around in front of the two humans, obliging them to pause in mid-stride, and glowered. Now they were trapped between him and his princess, and that was not going to lead to anything but bloodshed, thank you very much.

"Fine. You know what we are? Fine." He let his visage shift into game face and was gratified to see the older fella flinch and drop the battered leather case containing his trumpet. Annoyingly, though, the big chap with the double bass remained perfectly calm. He even bent to pick up the instrument and return it to his trembling colleague. Spike stepped a little closer, smiling toothily up at the big chap. "Word to the wise, mate -- you might think you're Obi-Bloody-Wan Kenobi or something, but I don't fall for any of that cheap mind control rubbish. 'These aren't the snacks you're looking for', that kind of thing - just not going to work. Me and my girl are - hey. Hang on - how'd you know we're English?" he said, accusingly. "I thought you were Czech."

"He isn't from around here, Spike." Dru's voice was dreamy as she stepped out of the shadows, the hem of her black dress trailing through dirty puddles.

"Yes, love. So I gathered."

"No. I mean - he's not from around here. You're like her, aren't you? I didn't realise, when we saw you on the bridge, playing your little tunes. You aren't a very good musician, you know," she added confidentially. He looked slightly affronted. "But you were having such a lot of fun that it didn't really matter. You're all brimming with life, all lit up from inside like exploding suns. I can see it now." She laughed. "Silly me! We can't eat you."

"Er, love? You know me, I don't mind playing with my food, but d'you think you could let a fella in on the game?" Spike didn't quite manage to conceal his impatience.

Drusilla glided over the cobbles, disregarding the burger wrappers and the used condoms with her customary aplomb, and came to a halt behind him. She peered over his shoulder and wrapped her arms tightly around his waist.

"He's one of them, " she whispered in his ear, in what she clearly thought was a helpful manner. "Like the lady with the burning baby fishes."

"You know Del?" The musician looked surprised, and then he smiled hugely. He really was a very big bloke. Words like 'rugged' and 'hearty' came unbidden to Spike's mind. "Yes, I can see you do, my pretty. Your kind are Desire's creatures, as a rule, but you live in Del's domain, don't you?" His brow furrowed briefly. "I miss her, you know."

"Woah, now -- Time Out, people," said Spike, feeling the remnants of his patience melting clean away. He hadn't the faintest idea what was going on and he really, really hated Drusilla knowing other men. She wasn't supposed to have any secrets from him, but unfortunately she didn't seem to have a very good grasp of this concept at all. "Just who the blazes is -- actually, no. I don't care. Gentlemen, my name is Spike, also known as William the Bloody. This is Drusilla. You are Snack One and Snack Two. I -- ow!" Drusilla had smacked him over the head.

"You aren't listening, Spike!" she told him sternly. "You're being naughty. And silly. We can't eat him. He's not human. And he might get cross, which wouldn't be a good thing." There was a little pause, and then she added thoughtfully, "Although it might be rather exciting. Wouldn't you like to come and play with us, Mr Musician? We could have lots and lots of fun, you know. Breaking things. Making beautiful music. Eating people." Spike knew that wheedling tone all too well, and he hated hearing her use it on other men. Rather than get unduly angry, however, he made an effort and concentrated upon the key part of her little speech.

"Not human?"

"Not human," Dru agreed, wriggling against him and trying to make him sway to music only she could hear. He let her pull him gently from side to side, keeping his eyes fixed dubiously on the possibly-not-dinner-after-all in front of them.

"Are you positive about that, pet? They look human. Smell human. Don't seem demony or anything."

"They're not demons, silly! And I think the little one is human, but -- ooh! Could we have him, Mr Musician?"

"No," said the big bloke, firmly. "Jan was kind enough to let me join in with his band this evening. I cannot, in all conscience, let you have him for supper." Drusilla made a small, petulant sound, but didn't stamp her foot.

"Hmph. Well, the little one's human, but the big one isn't. But he's not a demon. He's -- big."

"Well, yeah."

"No. I mean -- big. Bigger than demons. Bigger than gods. Big, and forever and ever and always. Like my lady."

"Drusilla, sweetheart, we've talked about this. Your lady isn't really real, is she?"

"Well -- not like you or Miss Edith. Not that kind of real. But she's the other kind of real. Really real. Isn't she?"