No disagreement from me, bebe.
I need to write my "Fouth Thing that Should have Happened in Sunnydale" and I know what it is, but it's insanely shmoopy.
Mal ,'Our Mrs. Reynolds'
Where the Buffistas let their fanfic creative juices flow. May contain erotica.
No disagreement from me, bebe.
I need to write my "Fouth Thing that Should have Happened in Sunnydale" and I know what it is, but it's insanely shmoopy.
I am looking forward to kicking her ass...she could use an ass-kicking.And she does come off like one of those women who spends way too much on shampoo because somebody told her she had pretty hair once.(I talk about hair a lot don't I? Not as much as Hec, but I do. Well, it was kind of the family business at one time...I guess I come by it honestly.)
Oh, Coulter is totally plastic. She has Barbie hair.
Yeah...Reactionary Barbie. Even conservatives I know, and believe it or not I know a few I speak to, back away slowly on that whole McCarthy worship thing.
If I was truly sick, I'd do a fic with her and Roy Cohn.
Or not.
EWWWWWW.
Forget I said that.
Don't gross me out.(Hey, I didn't think it was possible, but it still is.) "Perversion has existed since the dawn of time, but that doesn't mean I have to accept it."
I can't help it; I have this vision of her, looking exactly the same but with a slightly different hairdo and clothes, sucking the life out of the young boys Cohn would bring home to play with.
Now I see it too. The thought still disturbs me, but it would actually explain a lot. And the problem with Tim's quote always is that Nobody asked him. The perverts of the world(besides me and a few other Bitches) don't care if he accepts them or not.
My new official name for Anne Coulter? "New from Mattel(tm)! Succubus Barbie!"
Theme for the drabble is, new.
So.
Chrysallid (for the new Sunday 100)
She remembered nothing.
This was the thing about dying, about being reborn: she always seemed to forget, for those first few minutes after waking, everything that had brought her to this metamorphosis. It had happened the first time, hundreds of years back, when the Master had taken her down and brought her back. Now, it seemed, it had happened the second time.
Disoriented, frightened, Darla lay in the box of earth, open to the night sky, seeing Angel, seeing Dru, panicking, jumping, going to ground.
When she did remember what had led to this new undeath, she tried to forget.