Damn, victor. This is one of the best fanfics I've ever read.
Gracias. Still a little more ways to go, and very little of it in a straight line.
Jayne ,'The Message'
Where the Buffistas let their fanfic creative juices flow. May contain erotica.
Damn, victor. This is one of the best fanfics I've ever read.
Gracias. Still a little more ways to go, and very little of it in a straight line.
“Listen,” she said. “To not die is a terrible thing.”
Gods, that line, at that time, to that man ...
I already used, "I wish I'd written that," didn't I.
Gods, that line, at that time, to that man ...
Well, the voice is actually the mystery woman's voice whispering in the back of Amy's head, but yeah, Wesley is definitely the subject.
Is that unclear, though. Should I adjust?
I already used, "I wish I'd written that," didn't I.
Heh. That's OK. Say it all you want. I don't mind.
ETA: clarified that sentence. It's kind of important.
Crap, I misread it the first time, I read it as "To die is not a terrible thing." But "To not die is a terrible thing" is equally powerful. And equally true, when it's time to die and the release is denied.
Anyway, take my usual response as given.
Amazing Victor -- just amazing.
Amazing Victor -- just amazing.
Thanks.
Guess I should kill somebody now, huh?
Is this maybe too twisty for primetime? Wesley/Illyria erotica? For the liquid challenge?
This Body
This body, this body....
Things change, with this body. Attention must be paid. It hungers, thirsts, speaks to the mind within and is spoken to in return, wanting, needing, grinding down into the dirt by this water, this cold lake in the mountains above LA, this body meets Wesley's body. He has the advantage, for his body knows this body and she knows nothing at all.
But she learns, as the sky opens and a brief shower drenches their bucking limbs, her hair splayed across the ground, his naked back. And here is sunlight again, but this body?
Remains wet.
Ack. Yeah, twisted's a word.
I need a cigarette...
Nah, that's not too twisted. For me, anyhow. Yum.
Liquid, by William the Bloody (channeled through an even worse poet)
Sore upon my mouth her kisses tore
No balm of Gilead her blood and tears
In my belly bitter, but her sweetness on my tongue
My parch-ed lips, they crack’d and bled no more.
How sweet the getting was when I won you
How brief the tasting of you turned my head
‘Tis not for you, think what you do, he said,
Ironic, then - I like the Mountain Dew.