Whoooooeeeee, woman.
Wow.
Mom! Dead people are talking to you. Do the math!
Buffy ,'Showtime'
Buffista Fic: It Could Be Plot Bunnies
Where the Buffistas let their fanfic creative juices flow. May contain erotica.
deborah grabien - Nov 18, 2003 10:08:29 pm PST #7489 of 10001
It really doesn't matter. It's just an opinion. Don't worry about it. Not worth the hassle.
Lee - Nov 18, 2003 10:10:39 pm PST #7490 of 10001
The feeling you get when your brain finally lets your heart get in its pants.
Hot Damn, Plei. Is there going to be more?
Deena - Nov 18, 2003 10:12:51 pm PST #7491 of 10001
How are you me? You need to stop that. Only I can be me. ~Kara
That was lovely. I so groove on the voices in your head, Plei.
P.M. Marc - Nov 18, 2003 10:13:57 pm PST #7492 of 10001
So come, my friends, be not afraid/We are so lightly here/It is in love that we are made; In love we disappear
Probably not. I started with two images, one of Wesley pale and vamped, looking at Angel with those eyes of his, and Dru coming out from the shadows to greet Angelus.
Then I decided it should be 500 words.
Then I wrote it.
I'm fairly pleased, as I feel slightly less meh now.
Lee - Nov 18, 2003 10:17:50 pm PST #7493 of 10001
The feeling you get when your brain finally lets your heart get in its pants.
Oh well. More would be fun for me, but the story is too good as it is to need anything more.
Am-Chau Yarkona - Nov 18, 2003 11:51:38 pm PST #7494 of 10001
I bop to Wittgenstein. -- Nutty
Oh, Plei. Damn. Talk about breaking me. That's... wow.
Anne W. - Nov 19, 2003 12:51:53 am PST #7495 of 10001
The lost sheep grow teeth, forsake their lambs, and lie with the lions.
That was amazing.
This
Used to be, he could read Wesley like a book written in scent and sound: fresh peroxide and stale saliva still sharp beneath a layer of cologne, the fluttering trapped sparrow sound of his heart whenever Fred entered the room, whisky and Lilah and the steady defiant beat of someone trying hard not to care. Wesley smells now of parchment and blood, his body silent and unreadable beyond the obvious.
just about undid me.
Beverly - Nov 19, 2003 7:42:53 am PST #7496 of 10001
Days shrink and grow cold, sunlight through leaves is my song. Winter is long.
Mmmmm. Thank you, Plei.
erikaj - Nov 19, 2003 8:04:59 am PST #7497 of 10001
Always Anti-fascist!
Yes. Very good, as usual.
DCJensen - Nov 19, 2003 5:59:02 pm PST #7498 of 10001
All is well that ends in pizza.
Copied from my post in Angel:
Scene:
A small stage highlights a room at Caritas III, opened in the old ballroom at the Hyperion.
Lorne sighs, and relaxes, finally. There are two empty Sea Breeze glasses on the table. He raises a third to his lips and slowly sips. He sets it down.
Turning to his right, across the table, he Speaks to Angel. "Thanks sugarcakes, this is perfect. Just the place i needed to relax after a day at Wolfram and Hart."
"No problem, Lorne," replies Angel. "I can't believe we didn't think of this earlier. But I have to go. If you have any problems, let me know. I need to go corall Spike. He took the Viper again." Angel gets up to leave, and Lorne waves goodbye with his Sea Breeze and waits for the first performer onstage.
As Angel makes his way to the door, a short muscular man in plain blue jeans, white tshirt and cowboy boots takes the stage behind him. The man carries a guitar, and his bare arms are covered with strange markings and runes.
He adjusts the microphone and begins playing the guitar. Just as Angel reaches the door, he hears the song.
"If I had a hammer..."