Heh. Katie, always A Moment when that happens, and you find yourself 180 degrees from the person doing the readthrough. Hasn't happened to me in years, luckily.

edit:

"You've given me a lot to think about," is good too. Even if it's that she blows goats.

(beaming at snarky internet wife)

Oh, I'm not offended - I mean, I can see what she's trying to do. (And it's not an *overwhelming* number of suggestions.) I'm not even saying she's coming up with things that are wrong. I just... disagree, which leaves me feeling a little ungrateful.

She's a big girl and can cope, though. I'm just kind of entertained by the extent to which I keep looking at word choice/sentence structure/etc. suggestions, trying them, and then saying "nope. Not me."

Very last of the crossover open on Sunday challenges. Jossiverse and West Wing.

Haunted Ground

There have been noises coming from the Lincoln Bedroom for a long time. They're legendary, in fact; Jed Bartlett reminds himself of this as he stands on the plush carpet, willing his hand to throw the door open. His hand isn't cooperating.

The Lincoln Bedroom is haunted. Guests have seen ghosts. Bartlett's predecessors - FDR, wasn't it? - have seen ghosts.

He wants to see a ghost. But he's standing there, shivering like a puppy, afraid to touch the brass hardware.

Behind the door, Spike grins sourly, and turns to Dru. "Leader of the Free World," he mutters, "my arse."

And because someone in the lj readership wanted it, I wrote a prequel, with West Wing's Lord John Marbury (Roger Rees).

Invitation to the Lincoln Bedroom

The girl in the old-fashioned dress and the preposterous shoes caught his eye before she was halfway through the door of the bar.

The odd thing, Lord John thought, was that no one else seemed to notice her. Black cloudy hair, long oval face that hinted at all sorts of sin, Victorian pallor - Eliza Doolittle in Manolo Blahniks. Her name, she said, was Drusilla.

He bought her a bloody Mary. After ten minutes of mounting arousal, he did something unusual for him.

"Tell me," he asked, "would you like to see the White House? I'm resident there right now."

Well, THAT took months.

But, 6000+ more words of Sunrise are up.

From Her Sunrise to Clockwise (the story from the beginning)
Last chapter posted
New Stuff

I almost universally disagree with her advice. Thoughtfully disagree, I don't think I'm being kneejerk. So, you know, my story, my rules, but. I feel a little guilty. Oh well.

"Oh well" is the right response. When I've beta'ed, I've done it with the understanding that any and all of my edits might be ignored. I do it because I like seeing stories in progress and helping to shape them, not because I know the One True Way to write. If they're substantial edits, you might want to explain to the beta why you aren't adopting them, but it's by no means a must.

I've always figured mine are suggestions. It startled me the first time someone wrote and explained why they weren't using it. Because you don't want to is a good enough reason for me.

Eliza Doolittle in Manolo Blahniks.

I love this.

Me too.

Our detective friends finally leave the roof today.
And, as you've noticed, I've started writing as if they are telling this to somebody(if Lestat can, why not my vampire?) But somebody asked me about that person, and I've no idea, except she's female and Munch thinks she's young. I wanna avoid Mary Sue. Can it be done?

“You just deserve somebody good enough to take your watch off for. Maybe even to forget what day it is. Mysterious, I like that. “

“It’s all a pose, Munchkin. I can read you like a book.”And it still sort of felt true.Not like it used to,but I sensed it would be bad to admit it...my honorary macho wouldn’t let me, huh?

“What am I thinking now?”He had one of his smirks on his face, and his eyebrow raised. I love and hate that face.

“I’m not gonna stand here and use that kind of language.”

“ You’re no fun.”

“Damn straight. But I’m alive to tell the story, huh?”

“Well, as much as I’d love to continue this conversation, my definition of being hot doesn’t include bursting into flames. And Darla’s waiting.”
He was getting ready to make his swing off the roof. And I stopped him, for just a minute. It seemed like the thing to do. “Munchkin?”

“Huh?” I knew that was just a placeholder. With his new hearing,he could practically hear me thinking. He just never misses a chance to kid me about that, even if I don't hear "Whatever, babe," as a whole lot classier.

“Just cause she plays with your balls, doesn’t mean she gets to keep ‘em, huh? Stand up for yourself this time.” And I surprised myself by hugging him hard, even though it didn’t exactly warm up that rooftop. “If you need anything, you know, above-ground...”

“Anything?” he asks, zeroing in on my lips.

“Anything but that. You take care. Don’t take any wooden nickels.” We hug again, only this time I feel an unmistakable pressure on my ass. “Whoa, hands in new places, huh?”

“For old-times’ sake. Even if, sadly, we never had old times that ended like that. You missed out, Howard, I could've given you..."

"The best eight minutes of my life. Yeah, well, I'm the one that got away, huh?"

"Yeah, I know. I'll always regret that. I just wanted to give you tangible proof, ok, babe?"

“Next time, send a Hallmark.” But I smiled. I felt like we were gonna be okay, even if it wasn’t in the way I wanted, with us going back to Charm City together. At least I got to say goodbye, which is more than I got from Crosetti. "Try not to kill people." Edited to finish Dopplegangland shout-out.