Heh. Yup, he knew.

I have no objection to being an anima figure, but there's a time and place (the conjugal bed, so to speak, and occasional public events).

Not 24/7. I am so not a blank slate to project pretty pictures on.

On topic, I'm trying to remember how many "Things that should have happened in Sunnydale" stories I've written. I think three, but it's tricky, because my third thing (Xander on his wedding day with vengeance demon who isn't Anya) was apparently not saved to my own hard drive.

If it was three stories, then I need a fourth, because I already know what the fifth one needs to be.

But if I've written four, I can just go for it.

And yes, I know, now shrift can point and laugh at me....

And yes, I know, now shrift can point and laugh at me...

Point and laugh? Oh no. I'm just glad I'm not the only one who can't remember this stuff.

I've been writing stories since I was seven. I remember the first one, and I remember the latest ones, but all those ones in between? Er...

Also: oh dear. I seem to have given myself a very compelling mental image of Jack Bristow/Arvin Sloane bad-and-wrongness. And I didn't think I'd ever go there -- not because they're older and slashers tend to eschew the older guys -- but because it would have to be so frelling creepy.

And now. Well. Damn it. I may have to Go There.

Okay. Now it's no longer a May Have to Go There, it's a Definitely Going There, and Cackling All the Way.

Oh boy. Jack and Arvin's loveissocreepy.

God, I take my eyes off of you for a few days, and you're slashing Creepy Uncle Arvin?

Of course, a blind dead duck could have seen the slash last night...

Is there good Jack/Vaughn out there?

God, I take my eyes off of you for a few days, and you're slashing Creepy Uncle Arvin?

Anna started it, and then everyone kept encouraging me!

I think they're gonna need an extra-special hell for me.

Connie, love, love, love the V!Giles. So much love it goes beyond love.

And since I'm in work-avoidy mode, I wrote a little drabble on a theme Deb suggested many moons ago. The theme was "new". It's BtVS.

New

The rooms were always the same. Linoleum floors, metal table, folding chairs, some dude in an ill-fitting suit.

“First time?” Rookies. Never knew where to look.

“Gotta move fast on this one.” he stammered. “Lots of stories. . . ghosts made flesh. They’ve called in the shaman. Get in. Get the kill. Get out.”

Her finger traced the photo of Juan Pablo Ruivivar. Small time druggie, found out that demons make better foot soldiers than campesinos. She noticed her nails were chipped.

“I need a manicure.” She knew his gun was aimed at her heart.

“It’s over, Marcie.”

“Made you look.”

Kat, I don't suppose you'd consider a same-sex threeway marriage, would you? With me and erika?

I so do love that piece. Demons making better foot soldiers than campesinos.

Dayum.

Great. I can be the "guy". I know all the dick jokes.

Woohoo! My first Buffista proposal.

"I, kat, take you, erika and deb, to by my lawfully wedded, same-sex marriage three-way partners."