Steph, the original moderator at Sunday 100 left the boards, and doesn't look to be coming back. Since she hadn't permanently designated anyone, the new moderator opened a different community. Same thing, basically.
There's Diana Gabaldon fic?
Why?
I may be love's bitch, but at least I'm man enough to admit it.
Spike ,'Sleeper'
Buffista Fic: It Could Be Plot Bunnies
Where the Buffistas let their fanfic creative juices flow. May contain erotica.
deborah grabien - Nov 25, 2003 11:03:40 am PST #7591 of 10001
It really doesn't matter. It's just an opinion. Don't worry about it. Not worth the hassle.
Strix - Nov 25, 2003 11:06:11 am PST #7592 of 10001
A dress should be tight enough to show you're a woman but loose enough to flee from zombies. — Ginger
There's Diana Gabaldon fic?
Why?
I don't know. But it's fucking TERRIBLE.
What surprises me is the lack of Laurell Hamilton fic. That pretty much SCREAMS "come fic me." (And it has the pumps to prove it...)
deborah grabien - Nov 25, 2003 11:08:43 am PST #7593 of 10001
It really doesn't matter. It's just an opinion. Don't worry about it. Not worth the hassle.
But it's fucking TERRIBLE.
I am unsurprised. I honestly can't imagine why anyone would fic that. I mean, it already kind of *is* fic, innit?
Strix - Nov 25, 2003 11:15:42 am PST #7594 of 10001
A dress should be tight enough to show you're a woman but loose enough to flee from zombies. — Ginger
Oh, see how bad it is....
Claire was resting, or was supposed to be resting rather. Jamie refused to leave her bedside. He stared around at the machines, equipment, doctors, and nurses in shock and surprise. He wrinkled his nose at the smell and Claire faintly smiled. "Does it always stink like this?" Jamie asked.
Claire rested her hand on his and leaned back on her pillow, both grateful and scared to be back in own time, "Yes. Its so its sanitary."
"Sanitary?"
"Germ free."
Jamie rested his head next to their clasped hands, "So we're in your time now?"
"1948." Claire verified.
"Will we-I-we be able to get back to my time?"
"I don't know." She answered honestly.
Jamie raised his head, "Are you going to find him?"
Claire almost asked him? But stopped herself. He meant Frank. Frank Randall, her first husband. "Absolutely not."
Jamie pursed his lips, "I need to go back. Back for Jenny, wee Jamie, Ian. Back to Lallybroch."
"I'm going with you." She exclaimed.
"Why?"
"Because I can't live without you. Why else? Because I too miss Jenny, Ian, wee Jamie, I miss Lallybroch, I miss the early life."
Jamie chuckled. They both turned as they heard someone whisper, "Claire?"
It was Frank. Jamie's face paled and he jumped up, "Stay back Black Randall."
Claire reached up and grasped Jamie's hands, "That's not Jack Randall, Jamie, that's Frank."
Jamie's eyes widened and he sat back down slowly, "Jesus Christ! Claire, he looks just like him."
Claire squeezed his hands. His relationship with Black Jack Randall had not been a good one; in fact it had been ugly and disgusting.
Frank slowly came to the other side of her bed. Jamie glared up at him. "Claire, what's going on?
Claire gave a weak shrugged, "I traveled back to 1743. I met Black Jack Randall, who really isn't your great something odd grandfather, and I met Jamie. I married Jamie to save myself and we fell in love. I'm pregnant."
Frank tried to take all this in and then he glared over at Jamie, "What kind of ideas have you been putting into her head you-"
Claire smacked Frank's arm with the little strength she had, "Its true! In France there's a small grave. It says," Claire chocked, "Faith Fraser. She's my daughter. Mine and Jamie's."
Jamie reached behind Claire and rested an arm around her shoulders for support. The memory of their daughter plaguing their minds. And here she was, pregnant again. But with modern technology, the baby, to be named Brian, would have life.
Claire looked up at Frank, "I know you want a divorce, and if you don't I do."
Frank looked down at her, "I can't possibly leave you without financial support."
Claire closed her sleepy eyes for a moment, "We'll find a way." Claire turned to Jamie, "Get those coins."
Jamie raised his eyebrows but reached over and got the small satchel of coins, all their money in the world, and handed it to Claire. Claire opened it up and dumped out a pile of gleaming coins. Coins from the 18th century.
Steph L. - Nov 25, 2003 11:16:08 am PST #7595 of 10001
I look more rad than Lutheranism
What surprises me is the lack of Laurell Hamilton fic. That pretty much SCREAMS "come fic me."
Connie wrote a BTVS/Anita Blakeverse crossover, didn't she? That was screamingly funny?
Strix - Nov 25, 2003 11:16:31 am PST #7596 of 10001
A dress should be tight enough to show you're a woman but loose enough to flee from zombies. — Ginger
I love the reality of the conversation! It's just as I would have imagined it!
OK,
Strix - Nov 25, 2003 11:17:07 am PST #7597 of 10001
A dress should be tight enough to show you're a woman but loose enough to flee from zombies. — Ginger
Tep, I would love to read that! I couldn't find anything in FF.net under books.
deborah grabien - Nov 25, 2003 11:17:35 am PST #7598 of 10001
It really doesn't matter. It's just an opinion. Don't worry about it. Not worth the hassle.
Erin, may I just say, no, maybe I'd better not just say, I'm just going to stick with my original "why"....
Strix - Nov 25, 2003 11:19:53 am PST #7599 of 10001
A dress should be tight enough to show you're a woman but loose enough to flee from zombies. — Ginger
Our is not to reason why, ours is but to read and die...
Beverly - Nov 25, 2003 11:22:12 am PST #7600 of 10001
Days shrink and grow cold, sunlight through leaves is my song. Winter is long.
Oh my dear lord.
Does that Gabaldon fic person not comprehend how bad that is? How can anybody be that inept? And put the result in a public place where just anybody, while searching one site after another for Gabaldon fic (why? would anyone, I mean? why?), could stumble over it, fall, hit their head on it and die?
That should be a punishable crime. No really, it should.