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Angstathon at last
Apr. 16th, 2004 01:53 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
essene_backupTitle: Lamentation
Written for:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
manynames
Rating: R
Author’s Note: merci beaucoup tomoosesal for the beta. *kiss*
He ran his fingers through disheveled locks and wiped the sweat from his brow. Moving back from the heavy metal desk he’d just pushed in front of the door, he searched the room frantically for sturdy items to stack on it and around it. A file cabinet and photocopier jammed in next to the desk along with an unwieldy bookcase that finally lay across them all. Breathing heavily, Giles retreated to the corner of the room grateful for the daylight that streamed in the window and bathed him in heat. He removed his glasses and set them on the floor as he extricated the battered notebook from his pants and fished a pen from his shirt.
Dirty fingers rubbed the bridge of his nose as he pleaded for the aches in his body to subside long enough to finish this last task he’d set for himself. Struggling to control his raspy breath he opened the notebook and reacquainted himself with its contents.
Most of the pages were covered with girlish handwriting in various hues of ink, like this one in dark purple:
June 14, 2003
Buffy is such a clothes whore, yeah, I know it’s “horse” but seriously? Anyone who can get that happy over a pair of boots? Whore. It was FABULOUS shopping in Italy with the council’s money. Thank the powers that the bank’s main branch wasn’t in Sunnydale, right?
I’m glad B’ll finally get paid for what she’s doing for everyone. (like how I called her “B”? she hates it, but Faith grins at me every time and so it’s totally worth it!). Willow and Kennedy would make me vomit if I wasn’t so happy that Willow was happy. At least there won’t be anymore scary black eyes.
Xander and Andrew are really getting on my nerves though. They keep giving each other “purple nurples” and laughing at…nothing. You’d think once a guy hits 20 they’d stop all that stupid stuff.
Giles smiled wanly at the easy commentary, the thoughtless way Dawn’s emotions scrawled across the page. Chiding and derisive, but so obviously filled with love. He scanned a few more that continued in the same vein, almost feeling as if the bubbling teen were next to him. Then the fist started to close around his heart as he found the first entry that hinted at what was to come, written in flowing green:
July 25, 2003
Buffy’s been gone every night this week, she comes home looking like the cat drug her through unspeakable gutters and down more than a few barbed-wire fences. I know she’s trying to do what’s right with these new slayers, but if they’re all as crazy as the last one? I don’t think it’s worth it.
Giles skipped to the next entry:
July 28, 2003
They all went tonight. Willow, Kennedy, Faith, Wood. Giles, Xander and Andrew made all sorts of noise in the cellar. And they brought it back. I guess I should say, “her” not it, but she doesn’t even look human anymore. Buffy didn’t want me to see. Told Giles to keep me upstairs while they took it to the cellar. Fine. I just snuck down later.
She looked…scary. And that’s saying a lot. I grew up on the Hellmouth after all. She was nearly naked and there was dried blood all over her. And jagged scars all over her skin and other things in there too…nails, wire, just…stuff. She was filthy and her hair looked the end of a broom--all kinds of bits and pieces tangled up in there. The worst part? She saw me. And she smiled.
I ran.
Giles stifled a brief surge of panic. He remembered the overwhelming horror of the girl they’d brought back. She wasn’t human anymore. She’d lost all sense of reality, of sanity, of self. And worst of all? They’d done it to her. He turned the page.
August 2, 2003
3 more this week; one in Germany, two in Spain. Buffy’s finally realized there’s nothing she can do. She lets Willow find them, and then…then she goes to them and….
Faith went with her this time, she didn’t want to let her, but I’m glad she’s not alone this time. She comes back so…shaken and withdrawn. Like I haven’t seen her since…
I want to call Janice. I want to talk to mom. I’d even settle for Angel at this point. Someone who isn’t going to look at me with that faint haze of fear at the edge of their eyes. Nothing’s right anymore. I don’t like it here. I want to go home.
There were faint tearstains that blurred some of the bottom line, and Giles ran his thumb over them sinking deeper into his own sense of morbidity. He raised his head briefly, checking instinctively for the sun’s place in the sky. Still early afternoon yet, but he mustn’t get sidetracked. He had to finish.
August 3, 2003
She came back alone. She came into the villa alone. She ignored us all and walked into the kitchen, got a glass out of the cabinet, filled it with water and then dropped it. She ended up on the floor next to it not long after.
Faith’s gone. Buffy said they’d got her. That somehow, there’d been a conclave of vamps who’d gone after the rogue slayer the same time they had. That things got messy, got confused, got…wrong. And the vamps ended up with both the slayer they’d gone to get and Faith.
Wood hit her. Buffy let him. And then just looked at him with tear-filled eyes while she said, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Over and over and over again.
I’m so scared. She climbed into bed with me last night and she clung to me like I used to cling to her. What the hell is going on?
Giles leaned back against the wall and let the tears roll down his cheeks. Faith had been his first failure in the long line of what was to come. He’d known. He’d KNOWN, deep in his gut that he shouldn’t let them go to Russia on their own. But he’d let them talk him into it, into letting them go on their own, “two best fighters in the whole damn world” Faith had said, “ain’t no one got the stones to go against me AND B.” And Giles had believed her. Let her cocky confidence persuade him that they were enough. That against two full-fledged slayers? Nothing could hold. He’d been wrong. Oh so wrong. And not for the last time.
Giles’ eyes were drawn back to the dirty, dog-eared pages in his lap and to a particularly hard to read entry. He forced himself to decipher it and make sense of the red words:
August 15, 2003
It’s OMG, it’s all falling apart.
Raid. Dead. They’re dead.
Just me and Buffy and Andrew and Giles.
She let them….they…Fuck! His head!
The pen line ran off the page, leaving a deep indentation. He turned to the next entry.
August 16, 2003
Buffy says we’ll be safe in London. Giles says so too. Says Willow won’t dare come where the coven can see her. But he’s not sure. I can tell. His voice quivers when he speaks now, a match for the shakes in his hands. I still can’t believe what Faith let that girl do to Xander and to Kennedy. And how she made us watch while she drained Willow and then made her drink and then did it to Robin too…if we hadn’t been in the turret…
I still don’t understand why we’re running. She’s just going to find us.
That was the last of Dawn's handwriting. The following entries had been replaced with neat, cramped script. Words penned in Giles’ hand. He remembered how the dying girl had whimpered at him to retrieve it from her bag. Begged him with her eyes to keep it. To keep on. To finish it. Remembered kneeling by her side as her sister, near mad with fright had watched in mute anguish with wide eyes as Dawn died in her arms. Giles took a deep breath and started reading.
August 20, 2003
Faith’s minions found Dawn last night. Drove her shrieking through the empty streets as they chased her from Hyde Park to our hotel. And it is our Hotel. Ours and the covens. We’re nearly the only unkept humans left in London. Faith has been more efficient in her quest for world domination than any other vampire in human or demon history. Her minions follow her without question and she has succeeded where we failed in her control of the rogue slayers. We still don’t understand why Dawn was out on her own. How she could have slipped passed us. I guess I should’ve understood that if a young girl doesn’t want to be kept in--she won’t be, no matter the cautions. She survived Glory to be taken down by a pack of vampires in the streets of London. It’s nothing we were prepared for. We were prepared for none of this.
In all my years, in all my studies nothing could’ve prepared me for the ravages and havoc Faith has wrought on Europe. She’s literally swept through like the plague, the second coming of the Black Death. Nations have fallen. There’s no one for us to call--even if the phones worked; Buffy refuses to contact Angel, and I can’t say as I disagree, knowing the choice he’s made. No way out. We came to London seeking harbor, seeking answers and have received only shattered calls for help and further devastation. The coven remains strong, but for how much longer can we remain here? Especially now.
They chased her into the lobby. She was able to come through the binding spells, they were not. Snarling and savage they barraged themselves against the doors for minutes that seemed hours until they suddenly stopped and left us in staggered silence.
She bled out on the floor. Silken hair spread across the floor in a stream. The coven eased her pain, but could do nothing to replace her missing limb. I will continue what she’s started here. Try to keep the history of what seems to be our final days. For her. For whatever future there may be.
Giles drew a hand down his face and finally noticed the position of the sun. It had moved across the floor and its light no longer warmed him. Nearing dusk then.
August 25, 2003
We move. We move because if we do not then we die. And none of us want to die this way. Like hunted animals. But we no longer have the reserves or the strength to fight. They took most of the coven last night. Willow broke through. Such terrifying power I’ve never seen, not even when she was drawn to the dark in Sunnydale. She IS the dark now. Three of the sisters died when Willow’s magic broke their spell. Two more died as they tried desperately to throw up final wards and incantations to provide escape for the rest of us.
Andrew was lost last night as well. The pale boy had been so eager in his attempts to help, to be useful to us over the past months. Had tried valiantly to remain in good spirits long after the rest of us had given up, it was nearly painful to me to see his smiles fade into the morose haze that’s overwhelmed us all. It was as if the final chink in the walls of our prison had been sealed. We ran. Both Buffy and I. Scared as rabbits in the hunt, but he…he shouted some nonsense about Jedi warriors and drew the lone stake from his pocket.
I’m ashamed to say I did not look to see more.
He removed the cap from his pen and opened to the empty page following his last entry.
September 1, 2003
She died last night. And I could not save her. And there are none to bring her back. It is over.
Giles raised his head as he heard a scream from below his window.
They come. The slayers are here. She’ll be following soon after. Unless she thinks me beneath her, but somehow I doubt I’ll be spared her notice. She has trained them well. They know how to track, how to fight, how to bend their quarry to their will. She’s surpassed anything I ever could have taught her. And I was never her watcher. She took Buffy herself. She knew I watched. She spoke as she did it, “I’m going to kill her old man. I won’t turn her. She’ll never follow me. But I will keep her heart. Mount it on a stick like I did Harris’ head. Stake my claim…so to speak.” And then she’d laughed. I’d heard about your blood running cold, but never felt it, not until that moment.
The tears were wetting the page now. Making it difficult for him to write. The sun was making its way more rapidly across the floor now, soon it would be over. There was a cackle of laughter from the hallway.
I’ve kept one thing. I have not used it until now because…because it is an unknown. But now? Now there is no alternative. There is no worse place, no worse fate than this.
Giles tore his eyes away from the page and watched his assemblage of obstacles shake gently from the pounding at the door. Placing his left hand into his pocket he withdrew the hastily palmed object and let his fist close around it as he began to chant…
Obigenia, rafinia locretia sham
Whastesa, toretesa framiba gal
Obigenia, refina locretia sham
Whastesa, toretesa framiba gal…
Pounding. Still pounding. Giles felt his bowels begin to loosen and sweat drip down to mix with the tears…
“Giles! Giles!” The pounding was punctuated with crisp, clear, feminine shouts of his name.
He opened his eyes. Bright, morning sunlight streamed in across his bed. Mottled orange walls and a fuzzy outline of green plant filled his field of vision. He palmed the bedside table for his glasses.
“Buffy?” His voice came out a whisper. A desperate sound tinged with disbelief and hope.
The arched wooden door cracked open and his heart contracted as he was met with a blinding smile. “Morning sleepy head!”
“What are you, why…”
“Don’t you remember? We’re having a big tactical breakfast this morning. Big, big planning to go with the big, big stuffing of faces.”
Giles attempted to move his legs over the edge of the bed, and found himself unable to. He drew himself up with a struggle and looked up at Buffy with panic in his eyes. He looked and saw his robe draped over the back of a chair, a wheelchair.
Buffy smiled gently at him. "You forgot again, didn't you?"
Giles nodded mutely as she crossed the room to him, rolled the chair next to him, set the brakes and easily lifted him in. "It's been 5 years and you still forget sometimes that you can't walk anymore. You preparing for Alzheimer's or what?"
Clearing his throat Giles tried to jump back into where they'd left, scanning his recollection as he spoke, “Yes, well. We have much to discuss, most importantly how to handle the rogues.”
And it was there. The warehouse, the fight with Angelus, flames. The roof had fallen on him, severing his spinal cord. Wheelchair bound ever since.
He shrugged into his proffered robe and Buffy slid on his sandals and then looked at him with furrowed brows.
“That’s a heavy first full sentence of the morning.”
“Yes, there is much we must get absolutely clear…but first…did Andrew make muffins?”
Buffy grinned and cocked her head, “What say we go find out?”
*************
THE CHALLENGE
Max angst level I want in my story: 4
Up to two characters I definitely want: Giles, any other
Scenario: Last one standing
Rating: Under NC-17
Restrictions: No ship
Written for:
manynames Rating: R
Author’s Note: merci beaucoup to
moosesal for the beta. *kiss* He ran his fingers through disheveled locks and wiped the sweat from his brow. Moving back from the heavy metal desk he’d just pushed in front of the door, he searched the room frantically for sturdy items to stack on it and around it. A file cabinet and photocopier jammed in next to the desk along with an unwieldy bookcase that finally lay across them all. Breathing heavily, Giles retreated to the corner of the room grateful for the daylight that streamed in the window and bathed him in heat. He removed his glasses and set them on the floor as he extricated the battered notebook from his pants and fished a pen from his shirt.
Dirty fingers rubbed the bridge of his nose as he pleaded for the aches in his body to subside long enough to finish this last task he’d set for himself. Struggling to control his raspy breath he opened the notebook and reacquainted himself with its contents.
Most of the pages were covered with girlish handwriting in various hues of ink, like this one in dark purple:
June 14, 2003
Buffy is such a clothes whore, yeah, I know it’s “horse” but seriously? Anyone who can get that happy over a pair of boots? Whore. It was FABULOUS shopping in Italy with the council’s money. Thank the powers that the bank’s main branch wasn’t in Sunnydale, right?
I’m glad B’ll finally get paid for what she’s doing for everyone. (like how I called her “B”? she hates it, but Faith grins at me every time and so it’s totally worth it!). Willow and Kennedy would make me vomit if I wasn’t so happy that Willow was happy. At least there won’t be anymore scary black eyes.
Xander and Andrew are really getting on my nerves though. They keep giving each other “purple nurples” and laughing at…nothing. You’d think once a guy hits 20 they’d stop all that stupid stuff.
Giles smiled wanly at the easy commentary, the thoughtless way Dawn’s emotions scrawled across the page. Chiding and derisive, but so obviously filled with love. He scanned a few more that continued in the same vein, almost feeling as if the bubbling teen were next to him. Then the fist started to close around his heart as he found the first entry that hinted at what was to come, written in flowing green:
July 25, 2003
Buffy’s been gone every night this week, she comes home looking like the cat drug her through unspeakable gutters and down more than a few barbed-wire fences. I know she’s trying to do what’s right with these new slayers, but if they’re all as crazy as the last one? I don’t think it’s worth it.
Giles skipped to the next entry:
July 28, 2003
They all went tonight. Willow, Kennedy, Faith, Wood. Giles, Xander and Andrew made all sorts of noise in the cellar. And they brought it back. I guess I should say, “her” not it, but she doesn’t even look human anymore. Buffy didn’t want me to see. Told Giles to keep me upstairs while they took it to the cellar. Fine. I just snuck down later.
She looked…scary. And that’s saying a lot. I grew up on the Hellmouth after all. She was nearly naked and there was dried blood all over her. And jagged scars all over her skin and other things in there too…nails, wire, just…stuff. She was filthy and her hair looked the end of a broom--all kinds of bits and pieces tangled up in there. The worst part? She saw me. And she smiled.
I ran.
Giles stifled a brief surge of panic. He remembered the overwhelming horror of the girl they’d brought back. She wasn’t human anymore. She’d lost all sense of reality, of sanity, of self. And worst of all? They’d done it to her. He turned the page.
August 2, 2003
3 more this week; one in Germany, two in Spain. Buffy’s finally realized there’s nothing she can do. She lets Willow find them, and then…then she goes to them and….
Faith went with her this time, she didn’t want to let her, but I’m glad she’s not alone this time. She comes back so…shaken and withdrawn. Like I haven’t seen her since…
I want to call Janice. I want to talk to mom. I’d even settle for Angel at this point. Someone who isn’t going to look at me with that faint haze of fear at the edge of their eyes. Nothing’s right anymore. I don’t like it here. I want to go home.
There were faint tearstains that blurred some of the bottom line, and Giles ran his thumb over them sinking deeper into his own sense of morbidity. He raised his head briefly, checking instinctively for the sun’s place in the sky. Still early afternoon yet, but he mustn’t get sidetracked. He had to finish.
August 3, 2003
She came back alone. She came into the villa alone. She ignored us all and walked into the kitchen, got a glass out of the cabinet, filled it with water and then dropped it. She ended up on the floor next to it not long after.
Faith’s gone. Buffy said they’d got her. That somehow, there’d been a conclave of vamps who’d gone after the rogue slayer the same time they had. That things got messy, got confused, got…wrong. And the vamps ended up with both the slayer they’d gone to get and Faith.
Wood hit her. Buffy let him. And then just looked at him with tear-filled eyes while she said, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Over and over and over again.
I’m so scared. She climbed into bed with me last night and she clung to me like I used to cling to her. What the hell is going on?
Giles leaned back against the wall and let the tears roll down his cheeks. Faith had been his first failure in the long line of what was to come. He’d known. He’d KNOWN, deep in his gut that he shouldn’t let them go to Russia on their own. But he’d let them talk him into it, into letting them go on their own, “two best fighters in the whole damn world” Faith had said, “ain’t no one got the stones to go against me AND B.” And Giles had believed her. Let her cocky confidence persuade him that they were enough. That against two full-fledged slayers? Nothing could hold. He’d been wrong. Oh so wrong. And not for the last time.
Giles’ eyes were drawn back to the dirty, dog-eared pages in his lap and to a particularly hard to read entry. He forced himself to decipher it and make sense of the red words:
August 15, 2003
It’s OMG, it’s all falling apart.
Raid. Dead. They’re dead.
Just me and Buffy and Andrew and Giles.
She let them….they…Fuck! His head!
The pen line ran off the page, leaving a deep indentation. He turned to the next entry.
August 16, 2003
Buffy says we’ll be safe in London. Giles says so too. Says Willow won’t dare come where the coven can see her. But he’s not sure. I can tell. His voice quivers when he speaks now, a match for the shakes in his hands. I still can’t believe what Faith let that girl do to Xander and to Kennedy. And how she made us watch while she drained Willow and then made her drink and then did it to Robin too…if we hadn’t been in the turret…
I still don’t understand why we’re running. She’s just going to find us.
That was the last of Dawn's handwriting. The following entries had been replaced with neat, cramped script. Words penned in Giles’ hand. He remembered how the dying girl had whimpered at him to retrieve it from her bag. Begged him with her eyes to keep it. To keep on. To finish it. Remembered kneeling by her side as her sister, near mad with fright had watched in mute anguish with wide eyes as Dawn died in her arms. Giles took a deep breath and started reading.
August 20, 2003
Faith’s minions found Dawn last night. Drove her shrieking through the empty streets as they chased her from Hyde Park to our hotel. And it is our Hotel. Ours and the covens. We’re nearly the only unkept humans left in London. Faith has been more efficient in her quest for world domination than any other vampire in human or demon history. Her minions follow her without question and she has succeeded where we failed in her control of the rogue slayers. We still don’t understand why Dawn was out on her own. How she could have slipped passed us. I guess I should’ve understood that if a young girl doesn’t want to be kept in--she won’t be, no matter the cautions. She survived Glory to be taken down by a pack of vampires in the streets of London. It’s nothing we were prepared for. We were prepared for none of this.
In all my years, in all my studies nothing could’ve prepared me for the ravages and havoc Faith has wrought on Europe. She’s literally swept through like the plague, the second coming of the Black Death. Nations have fallen. There’s no one for us to call--even if the phones worked; Buffy refuses to contact Angel, and I can’t say as I disagree, knowing the choice he’s made. No way out. We came to London seeking harbor, seeking answers and have received only shattered calls for help and further devastation. The coven remains strong, but for how much longer can we remain here? Especially now.
They chased her into the lobby. She was able to come through the binding spells, they were not. Snarling and savage they barraged themselves against the doors for minutes that seemed hours until they suddenly stopped and left us in staggered silence.
She bled out on the floor. Silken hair spread across the floor in a stream. The coven eased her pain, but could do nothing to replace her missing limb. I will continue what she’s started here. Try to keep the history of what seems to be our final days. For her. For whatever future there may be.
Giles drew a hand down his face and finally noticed the position of the sun. It had moved across the floor and its light no longer warmed him. Nearing dusk then.
August 25, 2003
We move. We move because if we do not then we die. And none of us want to die this way. Like hunted animals. But we no longer have the reserves or the strength to fight. They took most of the coven last night. Willow broke through. Such terrifying power I’ve never seen, not even when she was drawn to the dark in Sunnydale. She IS the dark now. Three of the sisters died when Willow’s magic broke their spell. Two more died as they tried desperately to throw up final wards and incantations to provide escape for the rest of us.
Andrew was lost last night as well. The pale boy had been so eager in his attempts to help, to be useful to us over the past months. Had tried valiantly to remain in good spirits long after the rest of us had given up, it was nearly painful to me to see his smiles fade into the morose haze that’s overwhelmed us all. It was as if the final chink in the walls of our prison had been sealed. We ran. Both Buffy and I. Scared as rabbits in the hunt, but he…he shouted some nonsense about Jedi warriors and drew the lone stake from his pocket.
I’m ashamed to say I did not look to see more.
He removed the cap from his pen and opened to the empty page following his last entry.
September 1, 2003
She died last night. And I could not save her. And there are none to bring her back. It is over.
Giles raised his head as he heard a scream from below his window.
They come. The slayers are here. She’ll be following soon after. Unless she thinks me beneath her, but somehow I doubt I’ll be spared her notice. She has trained them well. They know how to track, how to fight, how to bend their quarry to their will. She’s surpassed anything I ever could have taught her. And I was never her watcher. She took Buffy herself. She knew I watched. She spoke as she did it, “I’m going to kill her old man. I won’t turn her. She’ll never follow me. But I will keep her heart. Mount it on a stick like I did Harris’ head. Stake my claim…so to speak.” And then she’d laughed. I’d heard about your blood running cold, but never felt it, not until that moment.
The tears were wetting the page now. Making it difficult for him to write. The sun was making its way more rapidly across the floor now, soon it would be over. There was a cackle of laughter from the hallway.
I’ve kept one thing. I have not used it until now because…because it is an unknown. But now? Now there is no alternative. There is no worse place, no worse fate than this.
Giles tore his eyes away from the page and watched his assemblage of obstacles shake gently from the pounding at the door. Placing his left hand into his pocket he withdrew the hastily palmed object and let his fist close around it as he began to chant…
Obigenia, rafinia locretia sham
Whastesa, toretesa framiba gal
Obigenia, refina locretia sham
Whastesa, toretesa framiba gal…
Pounding. Still pounding. Giles felt his bowels begin to loosen and sweat drip down to mix with the tears…
“Giles! Giles!” The pounding was punctuated with crisp, clear, feminine shouts of his name.
He opened his eyes. Bright, morning sunlight streamed in across his bed. Mottled orange walls and a fuzzy outline of green plant filled his field of vision. He palmed the bedside table for his glasses.
“Buffy?” His voice came out a whisper. A desperate sound tinged with disbelief and hope.
The arched wooden door cracked open and his heart contracted as he was met with a blinding smile. “Morning sleepy head!”
“What are you, why…”
“Don’t you remember? We’re having a big tactical breakfast this morning. Big, big planning to go with the big, big stuffing of faces.”
Giles attempted to move his legs over the edge of the bed, and found himself unable to. He drew himself up with a struggle and looked up at Buffy with panic in his eyes. He looked and saw his robe draped over the back of a chair, a wheelchair.
Buffy smiled gently at him. "You forgot again, didn't you?"
Giles nodded mutely as she crossed the room to him, rolled the chair next to him, set the brakes and easily lifted him in. "It's been 5 years and you still forget sometimes that you can't walk anymore. You preparing for Alzheimer's or what?"
Clearing his throat Giles tried to jump back into where they'd left, scanning his recollection as he spoke, “Yes, well. We have much to discuss, most importantly how to handle the rogues.”
And it was there. The warehouse, the fight with Angelus, flames. The roof had fallen on him, severing his spinal cord. Wheelchair bound ever since.
He shrugged into his proffered robe and Buffy slid on his sandals and then looked at him with furrowed brows.
“That’s a heavy first full sentence of the morning.”
“Yes, there is much we must get absolutely clear…but first…did Andrew make muffins?”
Buffy grinned and cocked her head, “What say we go find out?”
*************
THE CHALLENGE
Max angst level I want in my story: 4
Up to two characters I definitely want: Giles, any other
Scenario: Last one standing
Rating: Under NC-17
Restrictions: No ship
no subject
Date: 2004-04-16 03:18 pm (UTC)painful but so well done. a story that had me on the edge of my seat.
no subject
Date: 2004-04-16 04:52 pm (UTC)Delighted that you found it angsty! ;-p
no subject
Date: 2004-04-16 03:46 pm (UTC)I'm not particularly fond of Dawn per se, but you had me bawling at her entries and death. And, wow, I was actually happy at the end? So, if this is Angst level 4, then exactly how is this scale configured? 'Cause on a scale of 1 to 10, this was like a 12!
no subject
Date: 2004-04-16 04:54 pm (UTC)Glad you found it...sad. ;-p
no subject
Date: 2004-04-16 04:59 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-04-16 03:47 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-04-16 04:56 pm (UTC);-)
So pleased you liked it.
no subject
Date: 2004-04-16 05:20 pm (UTC)Oh, the wonderful angst!!
:::admires you:::
no subject
Date: 2004-04-16 05:26 pm (UTC)::kisses:: Thank you!
no subject
Date: 2004-04-16 05:54 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-04-16 11:38 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-04-16 08:22 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-04-16 09:22 pm (UTC)You're feedback feeds me. Thank you!
no subject
Date: 2004-04-16 09:38 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-04-16 10:53 pm (UTC)::busses the secret icon maker::
DANKE!
no subject
Date: 2004-04-17 04:05 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-04-17 10:46 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-04-20 10:36 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-04-21 06:38 am (UTC)::hugs::
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Date: 2004-04-25 07:44 pm (UTC)That gave me chills. Awesome.
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Date: 2004-04-25 07:53 pm (UTC)Thank you!
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Date: 2004-04-26 07:04 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-04-26 09:10 pm (UTC)Thank you for the feedback!
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Date: 2005-10-09 10:47 pm (UTC)Now get upstairs and cuddle me better!
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Date: 2006-06-16 06:36 pm (UTC)