The Great Write Way, Act Three: Where's the gun?
A place for Buffistas to discuss, beta and otherwise deal and dish on their non-fan fiction projects.
And a very silly drabble to christen it.
“Am not.” He rolls his eyes. “There are no rules to this. Jesus.”
She purses her mouth. The afternoon still stretches ahead, an unbroken road of heat and boredom, and if he’s not going to play fair, she doesn’t want to play at all. She props her bare feet on the porch rail.
“Okay, okay, your rules.” He edges closer, and she sniffs as he sets the swing into motion.
“You were crunching.” She pretends to pout when he slides an arm around her.
His kiss is salty-sweet. “Only licking now, promise.”
She grins around her Tootsie Pop.
YAY new thread!
Nice drabble, Amy!
Ha! I can see that happening somewhere, Amy.
Awww, Amy. that's sweet.
Thanks! I ... try not to make every drabble about violent death and stuff.