Today is going to be a lazy day.
pepperlandgirl4 and I got 17k done on our story in total, with only 2 chapters left, but she's gone this weekend so I'm left to writing Soul and editing. Checking my e-mail this morning, I saw that I got a review for Promise of Frost over at Just Rewards. It was a lovely review from someone who's always been hugely supportive of my work, but I'll admit, Frost is probably one of my least favorite of all my stories. For lots of reasons, but the point is, I haven't really re-read it (except when I had to skim a few chapters for that little Christmas ficlet I wrote) since it was finished. On a whim, I went and looked at the chapter following the one that got reviewed. And found myself giggling like a madwoman over some of the exchanges. Is it bad to be so amused by my own work? Does that make me vain? But look, it was stuff like this...The shock jumped from nowhere, sizzling her skin so that she jerked free from his grasp. “What is it?” she asked before tentatively stretching a fingertip out again. “Please tell me it’s not magic.”
He waited until she was shocked again, and rolled his eyes as she repeated the yank backwards. “All right, Pavlov,” he drawled, “it’s not magic. ‘Cept we both know it is.”
And this...
"You’re just bound and determined to keep me off my feet, aren’t you, Spike?” She regretted it as soon as it came out of her mouth, the innuendo obvious even to her, and prayed to God that the vamp wouldn’t take her up on it.
Obviously, God was on a coffee break.
Blue eyes raked over her body, slowing over her hips before falling to her boots half-buried in the snow. “Could carry you back, I s’pose,” he mused, almost nonchalantly though the huskiness of his voice betrayed more than she thought he wanted. “’Specially since it’s startin’ to seem you’re a bit partial to bein’ in my arms---.”
“Ha!” Buffy snorted. “If I remember correctly, I was the one who kicked you off the couch this morning.”
His gaze returned then, and though he hadn’t moved any closer to her, his intent seemed only inches away. “And if I remember correctly,” he said, “you were also the one who insisted I get on it.”
“Delirious, remember?” She swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat, but kept her chin strong.
“And here I thought you just had good taste.” He paused, cocking his head. “Oh, wait. You dated Angel and the Joyless Wonder. Well, that knocks that theory out of the water. Let’s just go back to wantin’ me, shall we?”
“Let’s not.”
“Can’t really blame you, I s’pose. Been told I’m quite the manly specimen on more than one occasion.”
The way I figure it, if I can't amuse myself with it, then what's the point of writing it in the first place? :)
Hope everybody has a good day!
