I would never have thought of writing Mr. Gordo fic. Amazing the things we miss.
Not my idea, actually, Deena. If you catch up in FFRW+E, you'll see it's sort of joint Buffista plot-bunny.
I've been asked for permission to archive my Spred about 6 times in the last few days.
I've had three in the last month-- high for me. Spred is definately in demand.
I'm thinking of writing more, though the excitement and poor spelling of some of the spikefan mail I'm getting makes me think I should strangle this bunny, too.
No, you should write it. And without spoilers for Angel season 4, so I can read it.
t /selfish
ERIKA!
I just caught up with your crossover.
I. adore. you.
It rocks, it rolls, it takes my brain to new (and very hot and disturbing) places.
Again, my dear, you rock my world beyond the telling.
But...but... I already said Newt/Kissy up above. sniff Feeling all skimmed over, now.
Newt/Bill = OTP.
But you were heading right with the proper direction
Karl, babe!
Hot and disturbing.More hot? or more disturbing?
Cool, I'll take it.
And wait, there's more:
[link]
Am, well, there's not a lot of spoiling possible at this point. I mean, you know Spike's there, right? So, I'll see what I can do this week... maybe get my typing fingers limbered up for the nanowrimo thing.
Am, well, there's not a lot of spoiling possible at this point. I mean, you know Spike's there, right?
Yes, I do. Sadly. I'd really reather not have that spoiler, if I could avoid it. And what I don't know is how he's there, and what people's reactions were to the situation: including Fred's. Which would sort of be important to a story.
So, I'll see what I can do this week... maybe get my typing fingers >limbered up for the nanowrimo thing.
That's a good idea. I'm trying to round up my outstanding fics, or decide that they can really be left, in preparation.
My feedback's been so good lately, I've just smiled all day. My mom's gonna get worried, any second.
OK, it's been nagging me for days, so I'm going to do it. Just write it straight into the posting box.
The Centepede's Foot
Fred stared at her calculations, followed them from her white board, across the section of window, then down onto the countertop. "Hmph."
Angel looked up from where he was trying to sneak a piece of water chestnut from Wes' moo goo gai pan. "What's up, Fred?"
She looked up and stared at the strange inner space that lives in physicists' brains, then looked over at Spike. "How do you do it?"
Spike jumped and dropped the beaker he'd been practicing his solid-by-willpower skills with. "What! I didn't! I've only been able to pick things up for a couple of days now, and I wasn't anywhere near there, and the Poof doesn't need six different bottles of hair conditioner anyway."
"What!"
Fred ignored both Angel's outrage and Wes' stifled laughter. "How do you sit in chairs?"
Spike gave her a very concerned look. "I bend my knees and hips and sit. How do you do it?"
"But what makes you not fall through? You walk through walls and tables and stuff. How come you were able to sit and stand on floors and all that before you knew how to make yourself solid?"
Spike started to answer, hesitated, and began to think. The thinking quickly segued into uncertainty, then to dismay as he began sinking down through the floor. "Oh, bug--" And he was gone.
Angel laughed out loud. "Do you think he'll stop before he gets to the molten core of the planet? Does anybody else hope he doesn't?"
Fred all but stamped her foot. "Now, that makes no sense either. Why would gravity work on him? It's not like he's got mass."
"Nope, High Anglican, from what I saw." Angel was still beaming.
Wesley frowned at him, but refrained from smacking his boss' fingers with the chopsticks he was trying to eat his moo goo gai pan with before Angel got it all. "Really, Angel, any more of these outbursts, and I'm going to become concerned about the state of your soul."
The patented "I'm an evil bastard and I must pay (tm)" look appeared on Angel's face. "No, don't worry about my soul. I know he's bound to come back." The grin began escaping. "I bet he falls through the sewers before he figures out how to stop himself." He nearly giggled as he snitched a piece of broccoli.
(feel free to correct me on the contents of moo goo gai pan)
