I just wrote straight-up smut. Ditto. I put it on Friends lock in lj(belated return to modesty and probity.) I'm all sweaty now...I must be doing something right. I've got...authority issues, I think. Damn.And I'm very dirty, somewhere in there. Proud and afraid, I am. Also afraid that what I wrote doesn't reflect the filthy image in my head. That damn physical body thing again. It's Ripper/Kay.
Kaylee: So, uh, how come you don't care where you're going? Book: 'Cause how you get there is the worthier part.
'Serenity'
Buffista Fic: It Could Be Plot Bunnies
Where the Buffistas let their fanfic creative juices flow. May contain erotica.
erikaj - Oct 05, 2003 12:33:52 pm PDT #6974 of 10001
Always Anti-fascist!
sj - Oct 05, 2003 12:44:30 pm PDT #6975 of 10001
"There are few hours in life more agreeable than the hour dedicated to the ceremony known as afternoon tea."
I'm not on lj. Will you e-mail it to me?
erikaj - Oct 05, 2003 12:51:18 pm PDT #6976 of 10001
Always Anti-fascist!
You know what? Fuck it. I can trust y'all, right? Promise you'll only laugh at the jokes? And Hec, keep it out of my dossier, mmkay? Unless it does it for you...that would be a point of some pride. OK, going public...."I'm here! I'm a perv. Something something." Give me a minute. Sj, the link gods are not cooperating, insent shortly. Rather more(cleans glasses) passion than technique is involved, I'm afraid. Suggestions welcomed.
sj - Oct 05, 2003 12:52:35 pm PDT #6977 of 10001
"There are few hours in life more agreeable than the hour dedicated to the ceremony known as afternoon tea."
I can trust y'all, right?
t gives best innocent look
erikaj - Oct 05, 2003 1:15:02 pm PDT #6978 of 10001
Always Anti-fascist!
You Linda Tripp me and I'll send ita after you.:) (Wow, third Lewinsky ref in a week. WTF?) Insent anyway...don't know why the halfassed link is not working. Cause God hates me.
deborah grabien - Oct 05, 2003 5:59:07 pm PDT #6979 of 10001
It really doesn't matter. It's just an opinion. Don't worry about it. Not worth the hassle.
erika, DUDESSE, I am so on my way there; I need to finish cooking and then over to read.
meanwhile, my sunday 100 drabble numero uno. Theme is photographs/snapshots:
Under Glass
The photo sits on Wesley's desk.
At first glance, there's nothing special about it: just a group shot, taken at a recent HQ gala at Wolfram & Hart. Fred, ravishing in a dress that shows her collarbones, staring straight into the lens. Gunn, sensational and dapper in a tux. Angel, imposing in full formal, in front of an enormous mirror, somehow incomplete without his reflection. Lorne, the emcee, laughing and lifting a glass. Cordelia is sadly missing.
The reason Wesley keeps it: Shimmering and shadowy in one corner, nearly transparent, an elegant, blue-gowned ghost who looks very much like Lilah.
sj - Oct 05, 2003 6:00:47 pm PDT #6980 of 10001
"There are few hours in life more agreeable than the hour dedicated to the ceremony known as afternoon tea."
Wow, nice. Where does one find the Sunday 100?
deborah grabien - Oct 05, 2003 6:07:32 pm PDT #6981 of 10001
It really doesn't matter. It's just an opinion. Don't worry about it. Not worth the hassle.
Livejournal, sj. One of the groups; search under usergroups, I think.
sj - Oct 05, 2003 6:10:28 pm PDT #6982 of 10001
"There are few hours in life more agreeable than the hour dedicated to the ceremony known as afternoon tea."
Thanks.
deborah grabien - Oct 05, 2003 7:08:15 pm PDT #6983 of 10001
It really doesn't matter. It's just an opinion. Don't worry about it. Not worth the hassle.
Drabble the second (sunday100 allows you three a week).
Under Flesh: Darla
She takes the photos out, one by one, handling them lightly, carefully, setting them down when done. It's a kind of ritual.
A favourite shows Angelus, smiling, his ridges touched with blood, a limp pale body dangling from one hand. She smiles fondly. A messy eater, her darling boy. but irresistable.
One of Dru, crooning to the child she was feeding on. Here was Spike with a screaming nun, joined by two strangers for the meal.
There are dozens of them, her trophies, her memories, portable, cherished. Golden and febrile, Darla stands in a patch of moonlight, smiling and remembering.