FIC: Touchstone

[AutumnT]

Ah I can finally post again with out some stupid message saying I was flooding and should not post. When I so was not. Sheesh. How would a cgi script know?

So, the jam confuses me. Is there jam on the landscape in the future?

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Autumn

I'm just taking stuff and not paying for it. In what twisted dictionary is that stealing?

[Kalita]

Yes, are we anticipating something jam-related in the near future? It's always best to plan ahead, so I'm just checking...

[Pixie]

Okay, now I have a very scary visual of various kitties standing in a line, with our hand folded primly, and singing "tea with jam and bread. TEA...WITH JAM...AND BREAD!"

That movie certainly had hills and beautiful landscapes, hmmm?

[AutumnT]

And the best part is when the hills are alive.

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Autumn

I'm just taking stuff and not paying for it. In what twisted dictionary is that stealing?

[Charlie]

quote:

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Originally posted by AutumnT:
And the best part is when the hills are alive.

---

Why do I get the feeling the innocent 'landscape' has somehow gotten perverted into something wholly different? And jam...? I don't think so. Chocolate sauce maybe...

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"Je dois partir maintenant parce que ma grandmere est flambé..."
- Eddie 'covered in beeeees!' Izzardquote:

[AutumnT]

quote:

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Originally posted by Charlie:
Why do I get the feeling the innocent 'landscape' has somehow gotten perverted into something wholly different?

---

Whatever are you talking about?

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Autumn

I'm just taking stuff and not paying for it. In what twisted dictionary is that stealing?quote:

[Dumbsaint]

Charlie, Ruth will make a jam lover of you yet. Cross my heart and hope to levitate.

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Shiver me timberless.

[Pixie]

quote:

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Originally posted by Dumbsaint:
Charlie, Ruth will make a jam lover of you yet. Cross my heart and hope to levitate.

---

Hey Charlie? *whips out several jars of jam and prepares to spoon* what flavor would you like? I'm partial to strawberry myself. Might go nicely with the chocolate sauce...quote:

[NoveltyAct]

oh, but charlie, have you ever had homemade jam? like, a spoonful of raspberry jam that was made by somebody's aunt rosie last summer, passed on to you in a mason jar, stirred into hot oatmeal on a cold, grey morning when you're sitting up in bed in your wool socks and flannels...

...preferably fed to you by an attractive young lesbian...

...in a cottage amongst the rolling green hills...

okay, so chocolate sauce is pretty good too, but that's like a whole different story, you know, with the whipped cream and the sprinkles and the cherry stems--

um, 'scuse me a sec ~~

(now how the hell did a career lurker like me let all that slip out? tommo!?autumn?!)

[This message has been edited by NoveltyAct (edited February 10, 2002).]

[Charlie]

RUTH!!! Post soon! PLEASE! This entire thread is being taken over by people brandishing jam at me and it's scary!

And the jam thing... you're not gonna change my mind anytime soon. Not even if you tie me down and force... No, Ruth, just post! End the jam madness.

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"Je dois partir maintenant parce que ma grandmere est flambé..."
- Eddie 'covered in beeeees!' Izzard

[tommo]

DANGER, WILL ROSENBERG! DANGER!

PLEASE BE WARNED THAT THE FOLLOWING CHAPTER CONTAINS SCENES OF AN ADULT NATURE, INCLUDING LANGUAGE, IMAGERY AND GENERAL CONTENT

Right. I think that about does it. No introduction needed.

Enjoy.

Title: Touchstone
Rating: NC17, although not all chapters are, but this covers me for those bits that couldn’t possibly be anything else. Heh.
Copyright Disclaimer: Bowing and scraping does nothing for the knees. Joss…blah blah…Mutant Enemy…etc etc…sigh…
Feedback: Sure, if you feel that way inclined. My email is: tommo27@hotmail.com
Archive: Until I get my arse in gear and sort out my own W/T website, you can have this wherever you like it. I’m only too happy if someone else wants it. Just ask first, ok? Bad manners are nobody’s friend.
Summary: This takes place in my own Buffyverse, and if you’ve read any of my other stories, then you’ll know what I mean. Basically we follow the season events, but with a few changes. In fact, who am I kidding; I make direct references to my other fic, because I’m a whore like that. And I care…not one little bit. Ha. There are also Season 6 spoilers in this if that kind of thing bothers you. Don’t take it to heart if it does; they’re not like, big honkin’ spoilers or anything.

Part 8

“Mmmm,” Willow sighed, pushing the last piece of bread into her mouth and chewing down on it. She lay back on the warmed rock beneath her and rested her head gently on the flat surface. Closing her eyes, she let the sun’s beams caress her face, moving down her neck onto her body, now shed of several of its layers. The unwanted clothes served as a blanket of sorts for the two girls, who were tucking into the sandwiches that Giles had insisted they take with them.

Upon reaching the foothills of the mountain, they had found a relatively flat patch of rock where Tara had suggested they eat their lunch. Thankfully, Willow had dropped to the ground and immediately divested herself of some of the heavy clothing that, it seemed, they no longer needed in the brightness that the day had become. As they ate, the sky cleared above them into perfect blue, with hardly a bird above to break the clarity. The only sound was that of the wind trailing aimlessly across the treetops to ruffle their hair.

“Good food,” Tara said appreciatively, opening another plastic container and peering inside. “Mr. Giles might be British, but he knows how to make good food.”

“Mmm,” Willow agreed almost sleepily, letting her hands drop down by the sides of her body. She laid her palms flat onto the rock, feeling its roughness and strength tingle into every part of her body that recognized it. “British food bad; Giles food good.” She let out another contented sigh and shifted her position slightly.

Tara looked down at her with an amused expression crinkling her face. Now that Willow had taken off her coat and heavy sweater, the redhead was left in only jeans and a thin cotton shirt, over which she had put on a zipped orange cardigan. The color of the wool reflected highlights in her hair that the sun was teasing out of the deep red. Tara thought she looked utterly adorable. Glancing around, the blonde cast her gaze onto the surrounding countryside. It felt as though they were the only two people in the world. As far as the eye could see behind her, valleys dipped and rose like the contours of some inert titan, resting under the ground. Behind them, the mountain sheered up from the rock, and to their left, the forest rustled quietly to itself, shielding their own position from view. She breathed in deeply, filling her lungs with the crystal air that pierced cleanly into her lungs.

Turning onto one side, Tara balanced the plastic container above Willow’s head on the rock and leant closer to her girlfriend. “Hey,” she whispered softly. Willow’s mouth curved upwards in a smile and tiny creases appeared around her eyes, but she said nothing. “Want to try something else? Mr. Giles packed something called jam tarts.”

“Jam tarts?” Willow spoke, her face a mixture of amusement and confusion. “Do I want to know what they are?”

“Oh yes,” Tara answered quite seriously, “they look yummy.” She reached up to the plastic container and pulled out one of the tarts, freeing it from its metal case. Taking a bite, she was surprised to find the sweetness spreading across her tongue, mixing delightfully with the pastry base. “Oh Willow,” she mumbled through a mouthful of tart, “yum.”

Willow opened her eyes and giggled at the sight of Tara going into raptures over what looked to be no more than a cake without a top. She squinted at it. A tiny cake, at that. Still, she shrugged, no harm in trying. Taking the remainder of the tart from Tara’s fingers, she popped it into her mouth, managing somehow to get jam over her own hand in the process. The taste more than made up for it though, and the two girls nodded to one another, pulling faces of pleasure at the sticky sweetness.

“Worth coming over the Atlantic for,” Tara licked at her lips.

“Nice,” Willow agreed, leaning up on one elbow. “Any more?” she craned her neck round to where the plastic container sat offering more delicacies.

“You’ve got jam on your fingers,” Tara noted, her eyes flicking down at the red jelly covering Willow’s skin. The redhead glanced down at her left hand and smiled gently.

“Jam,” she said slowly, savoring the word as she had done the tart. “Odd word. How come they don’t call it jelly?”

“Must be a British thing,” Tara observed. Her gaze raked up the redhead’s body to her eyes, where blue met green and reflected love. “And you’ve still got it all over your fingers.”

“So get it off for me then,” Willow said, her lips pursing a kiss of a challenge over the words. She gazed steadily into Tara’s eyes and raised her eyebrows imperceptibly, green orbs deepening in hue and intensity.

Tara lifted her own hand and grasped Willow’s left wrist, pulling at the arm of the other girl so they leaned in towards one another. Just a few inches closer, and their lips would have been touching. The redhead let out a tiny sigh of want, her chin tilting up, pushing her mouth towards Tara. The blonde let out a low giggle of desire and made as though she was going to kiss the other girl, her lips reaching for Willow’s as the gap closed between the two of them.

With the barest of touches, Tara brushed her lips against the redhead’s, eliciting a sigh that came deep from Willow’s throat before she withdrew. Willow opened her eyes, gazing at Tara accusingly, a pout pushing at her mouth as the blonde giggled again. Then Tara drew Willow’s fingers to her mouth, opening her lips and drawing first the forefinger, then the middle finger slowly over her lips. Her tongue came up to slide in between them, pushing down on the soft, sensitive skin near the girl’s knuckles, flicking over it with dexterity. Willow’s mouth formed a perfect ‘o’ of surprise as Tara drew her tongue back up the length of the fingers, licking and tasting the sweet jelly that was smeared there, sucking hard with her lips until the fingers were clean.

“Oh…” Willow whispered, feeling the sun on her back as she moved closer to the blonde, hardly able to draw her eyes away from the way her fingers looked in Tara’s mouth. It was so erotic; so intensely exciting that she began to feel herself stirring, her body moving in response. A gentle breeze teased her hair as she felt Tara’s fleshy tongue moving over and underneath her fingers, twirling round them, taking them in and then pushing against them. “Oh wow…” she swallowed, her eyes meeting Tara’s, the clear blue reflection of the sky twinned in perfect glistening orbs. For a moment, she heard nothing except the sucking of her lover’s mouth, teasing at her fingers with an almost torturous pressure.

And she couldn’t move, couldn’t look away; couldn’t even think. The silken feel of lips and tongue, the slight scraping of teeth up and down her skin was raising the passion inside her like hackles. Every inch of skin up and down her body was becoming heated, the tiny hairs on her skin rising up to shiver the goose bumps that spread across her body. She shifted slightly on the rock, knowing that her nipples were already hard, brushing achingly through her bra against the shirt she was wearing; the cotton whispering delicious echoes of want across the hardened peaks of flesh.

Tara’s hand left her wrist, assured that Willow wouldn’t pull her fingers away, and trailed down the girl’s arm, over the top of her cardigan to where the collar rested on Willow’s throat. One fingertip brushed maddeningly past the woolen collar and traced a line of fire on the base of her throat, before slipping down, beyond that, to where Willow was sure her heart was bumping wildly in her chest. Breathlessly, the redhead felt the moist sensation of Tara’s tongue matched by her own desire, building rapidly. As the tip of the blonde’s tongue flickered in between her fingers, pushing them apart, Willow gasped aloud as she saw Tara’s eyes close, and felt the rumble of an enflamed groan deep in the her throat.

Sliding inside the cardigan, Tara’s finger was soon joined by others that employed themselves in smoothing down the cotton shirt and finding the fastenings in front. Deftly undoing one button, Tara’s questing fingers met warm flesh and the lace cup of Willow’s bra. The blonde smiled to herself and spread out her hand so that it covered the small firmness of the breast inside that bra, a hard nipple jutting out into the palm of her hand. Taking Willow’s fingers in between her teeth, she bit down on them, the sharpness of her teeth contrasting instantly with the soft pressure of her tongue. The redhead’s head jerked back in the promised pleasure. Reaching for the Willow’s nipple, Tara squeezed once, not too hard, but sufficiently enough to make the redhead squirm in response and moan once more.

Drawing her head back, Tara let go of Willow’s fingers and watched, satisfied, as they fell limply from her mouth. Shifting closer on the rock, Tara moved so that her own body lay down the length of Willow’s with only their clothing to separate them. She found the hard bud of Willow’s nipple and began to tease it, squeezing it and pinching it until it became a sensitive nub of desire. Willow closed her eyes and let a long, low moan escape her lips; lips that were open and rendered themselves captives to Tara herself. Leaning forward, Tara pressed her lips against the white exposed throat that invited her in, begging her to plant tiny kisses all the way up that throat until they fluttered over the pulse point just below Willow’s ear. Feeling the blood pound against her mouth, Tara reached out the tip of her tongue and licked the spot, just once, then grazed her teeth against it. Willow let out another groan and writhed against her, her own hand coming up to entwine itself in Tara’s hair.

“I told you I couldn’t help myself,” Tara murmured against Willow’s ear, her breath sending heat hurtling down the redhead’s spine.

“I don’t want you to help yourself,” Willow gasped, her mind flashing bright colors and heat and passion into her limbs. “No, actually I do want you to help yourself. Help yourself to me…mmm…I like that…god, I love that,” she hissed, as Tara’s tongue once again probed and sucked noisily against the pulse point. She opened her mouth to say more, but found that words, useless and inadequate, stuck in her throat. Instead she pulled on Tara’s hair, thrusting herself up against the other girl, willing her on with every sighing breath.

Tara eased Willow onto her back and leaned over her, gazing down at the face she had come to know inch by inch, contour by contour. Her other hand came up to brush a few strands of red from the girl’s brow and she smoothed her fingers across the planes of Willow’s face. The redhead closed her eyes and let out a long ragged sigh as Tara’s right leg covered her own, lifting her hips up onto Willow’s. That comfortable and familiar pressure bore down on her like a lost memory, unlocking the feelings she had kept hidden for a long time. Too long, her harried mind threw at her almost like an accusation. The throbbing between her thighs agreed, telling her that this moment was long overdue. This contact was long overdue.

Opening her eyes, Willow looked up to see Tara’s face leaning over her, so close. She felt the breath of the other girl on her cheek, smelling faintly of the sweet jelly they had tasted. Going over every inch of Tara’s face in what seemed like a split second, Willow took in everything, the full swollen lips that ached like her own, throbbing somewhere below her waist; the faint half-smile Tara seemed to curve into when their eyes met; the soulful expression that Tara wore like a signature, swimming in the depths of her eyes. Willow could hear her heart thudding in her ears, roaring each beat like hissing foam on the shore. Nothing else existed except for the warm pressure on her body and the incessant crying out of her body to be loved.

For a brief moment, Tara remembered another time like this; another place like this. That unending moment before their lips had touched, the way they had looked at one another. Granted, that was in another time and space, and in a tunnel where vampires had threatened their lives. And it had always been Willow in her position; always been Willow to take the initiative. The blonde felt a tiny surge of pride that this time, she was the once inching her groin up to rest on Willow’s, feeling the searing heat even now through her jeans.

Times past, times present, it was all the same. They hadn’t been this Willow and Tara in times past; but they had still wanted one another. They had still desired one another. Moving ever so slightly across the redhead, Tara parted her legs and pressed down gently onto Willow’s thigh, a smile pulling at the right side of her mouth as she did so. It didn’t matter what time they were in; this still felt like the only thing she ever wanted, or needed, to do. God, she caught her breath in her throat, it was all she could do not to throw back her head, arch her back and grind down on the other girl’s leg, even now pushing up slightly against her crotch.

Shifting, Willow adjusted herself so that Tara’s thigh lay against her pubic bone, pushing the seam of her jeans up tight against her. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to control the throbbing that was taking a hold of her whole body, it seemed. The wetness was so hot against her outer lips that she was sure it was seeping through the material of her jeans. A searing hotness rippled across her cheeks and she closed her eyes against it, teetering on the brink of screaming aloud and whimpering at the same time. Barely able to help herself, she began to push up against the hard seam of her jeans, rubbing as best she could against it. Tara’s fingers on her nipple paused, then withdrew.

Willow’s eyes flashed open. “Tara? What is it?” she asked breathlessly.

Tara pursed her lips momentarily, narrowing her eyes. “You’re cheating,” she said playfully, her voice low and sensual. Her fingers pinched slightly at Willow’s breast, eliciting a whimper of anguish and frustration from the redhead. The sound shot like wildfire through Tara’s veins, the blood in them running thickly to her head, filling her mind with images of tumbling, rolling bodies, flesh on flesh.

“No, no I’m not,” Willow wheedled, “I’m not Tara, honestly.”

Thrusting her thigh up between Willow’s legs suddenly, Tara raised her eyebrows at the gasp that came rushing from the redhead’s lips. She nodded. “Yes you are; you’re cheating. You and your jeans are cheating.” There was no doubt about the teasing tone of her voice, although her movement only served to excite the redhead further, making her bite at her lip and let out a low groan. It thrilled Tara to hear her like this; it made her so wet to feel the heat that was even now enclosing her thigh in a warmth of shameless desire.

The redhead dropped her gaze, eyelashes flicking down to cover her attempt at guilt. She rubbed her fingers up and down the back of Tara’s neck, scraping her nails over the downy hairs that grew there, watching as the blonde’s pupils dilated gleefully. “I’m sorry,” she said, a smile pulling at her mouth. “I couldn’t help myself.”

Tara let out a short laugh as her words were thrown back at her. Nodding to herself in amusement, she leaned over Willow once more and this time pulled on the button at the waistband of the redhead’s jeans. Popping it open, she forced her fingers inside, pushing the zip down. The hard metal teeth pulled at the back of her hand as she roughly made her way inwards. Covering the girl with her own body, her fingertips met the low cut band of panties, then pushed past that to touch the coarse curls of pubic hair, already damp. Willow moaned, deep and guttural, her throat suddenly filling with desire she could no longer keep in check.

Lifting her hips upwards, she engendered the brush of fingertips past the soft satin lips that were coated in moisture. As Tara’s fingers swept into her, she realized that she’d been holding her breath for a long second. Letting it out, it was accompanied by a heartfelt expression of the girl’s name, lingering long over the vowels, tasting the word with everything she had in her.

Curling her fingers around the back of Tara’s neck, Willow pulled the other girl roughly onto her mouth, kissing her hard. Their tongues met and dueled with one another, tumbling and falling into a wetness that was matched by Willow’s own. Tara felt the hot sticky sweetness around her fingers, enveloping her in a scent that drifted to her on the breeze that surged over them like a soft blanket. Closing her eyes, she breathed it in; she drank in the kisses that were being placed on her lips, her face, her neck.

Using her thigh as leverage, Tara began pushing into Willow, paying no heed to the awkward position her wrist was in, or that her knee was pressing against a particularly uncomfortable piece of jutting rock. She didn’t care. All she cared about was the wetness against her fingers, on her hand, in her mouth. Leaning back, Tara pulled away from Willow’s mouth to tug on the girl’s jeans, pulling them down to allow herself greater access. Kneeling astride Willow’s thigh, she looked down at the girl, prostrate and literally vibrating on the ground in front of her. A small smile passed through her eyes and she slowly lowered herself onto the redhead as the girl groaned and let out another long breath.

Willow’s hip bumped against her own as she began to fuck harder, stronger, with intent. Hearing a sound as though from far away, Tara realized with a flush that it was her own hand slapping against the other girl’s flesh, and her wetness sucking it in and out. She allowed herself a glance down at the mess of red curls, darkened with moisture; and her own fingers, coated in the scented fluid that she wanted to take into her mouth so much. Swallowing hard in a dry and passion-constricted throat, she slipped her hand inside the girl’s panties and found the aching clitoris that made Willow cry out loud as Tara pressed it.

Rolling her thumb around the engorged flesh, Tara leaned up on one arm and looked down at Willow as she thrust harder inside her lover. She loved watching Willow this way; the flush building on the girl’s cheeks, her head thrown back and her mouth open, sucking in air that fluttered around the orgasm growing deep inside her. It was so wonderful to watch, that often, Tara felt she could come from just seeing Willow this way. Just hearing her breathe and gasp, and then, begin to say her name over and over again. The intoxicating scent that was purely Willow’s own rose around them, the heat between the redhead’s legs lapping at Tara’s very core. The blonde felt her own hips moving backwards and forwards as she increased her pace, moving her fingers more quickly in and out of her lover. Nobody had ever made her feel so sexual, so sensual, so alive.

“God, I love you,” Tara growled, almost despite herself.

Willow’s eyes flicked open, meeting Tara’s gaze and intensifying the passion between them. Her pupils wide and dark with the bottomless well of desire she had for the blonde, Willow didn’t need to answer. She felt the same. They both knew that. They always had done, right from the beginning. But seeing it was something else. Something that inspired them, excited them, thrilled them. It was theirs alone, and belonged to nobody else. That was what made it special.

Tara’s finger pressed more insistently against Willow’s clitoris, the circular motion of her thumb making the redhead move her hips even more quickly, wantonly pushing them up so that her ass left the ground and forced Tara’s fingers deep into the hot wetness that was what she had become. Tara’s fingers sunk in up to the knuckle, swallowed by the open wetness, covered in Willow, smeared in Willow. The blonde sucked in a deep breath, feeling the fresh air lurch into her lungs. This was intoxicating.

A thin bead of sweat formed itself on Willow’s brow, just up near her hairline. The redhead’s hands came up and brushed it away, before lingering on her skin, cheeks flaming red. Moving downwards, Willow pulled at the edges of her cardigan, opening it over her chest. The buttons on her shirt that Tara had undone only minutes before were easily found, and tugging on them, Willow bared her chest to the air, feeling the breeze skip sensuously over her abdomen.

Sliding her palms over her stomach, her fingers trailed up to her bra, nails scoring lines up her breasts to where her nipples were straining at the material. With her forefinger and thumb, she took her own nipples in between them and began to pinch and squeeze. Although her eyes were closed, she heard the appreciative purring that came from her lover; felt the thumb on her throbbing clitoris flick the hard nub, grazing the tip of it with the nail. She felt Tara’s long fingers slipping in and out of her, driving her on to the line she knew she would cross very soon. Images flashed into her head; the way she would stare at Tara’s fingers in class; the tiny frown on the blonde’s face when she was concentrating; the patch of silky soft skin at the top of her thighs; the way she threw her head back just before she reached orgasm…it all merged into one kaleidoscopic sensuality in her head, pounding away at her brain, giving life and sensation to her body.

“Tara…oh Tara…” she began to mutter, low at the back of her throat, growing louder with each thrust and each tightening of her stomach muscles. It almost hurt; she wanted it so much. The tension in her thighs grew, sending vibrations up through her whole abdomen that resonated in every nerve and sense. Feeling Tara inside her, on her, around her…Willow’s teeth reached out to bite at her lower lip as she closed her eyes again.

“Come on baby,” Tara urged, her mouth close to Willow’s ear, breath tickling and tingling its way down the redhead’s spine. “I’m right here, come for me.”

“Tara…” Willow moaned, her breath gasping loudly over each syllable. “Oh god Tara…Tara…Tara…”

The first spasms began deep down, somewhere, Willow thought at the back of her mind, where her thighs began. Ebbing and flowing, they crept up to her groin, where they exploded throughout the core of her, reaching tendrils of pure pleasure up through her chest and spinal column.

She opened her eyes in that moment, fixed them on the face of the only woman she loved; ever would love. And at the moment the climax hit her brain, causing her body and mind to conjoin in the heat of it, she looked into Tara’s eyes, so close she could see herself reflected in them. Opening her mouth, she called on the name of her lover as Tara’s lips sank onto her own and the blonde pressed her body close to Willow, feeling the redhead pour out every last second of her orgasm onto her touch.

***

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Sweetie...I'm a fag.

[tober]

damn.

[delany]

ditto.

[canadian kitty]

double damn

[emily 'first']

Ruth...Jam tarts...I'd forgotten how good they tasted...Tho' I don't think your description merits the NC-17 rating.
*
The Rock!? Did it contain silicate? Will future generations be able to read the memories stored...When the technology becomes available?
*
Oh,and triple damn! HeeHee...

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vive,valeque.

[This message has been edited by emily 'first' (edited February 10, 2002).]

[Warduke]

Sometimes only one word is needed to express how you feel, in this case, one smilie is all that is needed...

[Bobo's Mom]

I'm going to go peel some grapes. Just how does one make those jam treats you discribed?

What an interesting way to start a Sunday morning. Enjoying the story. Keep up with the great work.

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TARA: Willow and I always know how to find each other!
ANYA: With yoga?

[Tiggrscorpio]

Whew! Feverishly searching the apartment for jam. I know it's here somewhere.

Thanks tommo, that was great!!!

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She's my everything!

[Charlie]

OK, converted to jam...

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"Je dois partir maintenant parce que ma grandmere est flambé..."
- Eddie 'covered in beeeees!' Izzard

[Kalita]

Jam good. Jam very, very good.

Ruth very good with the jam and the rock and the.... okay, my brain's still a bit short-circuited, so I'll just leave it there...

[Rally]

That was indeed a wonderful way to start a lazy Sunday morning.

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"Everyone's getting spanked but me."

[maudmac]

Ruth, this is awesome. Just jaw-droppingly awesome. I've read some reeeaaaallly bad fanfic, but fanfic at its best, like yours and Lisa's, is every bit as good - and often better - than actual Buffy scripts. Sometimes watching the show is a letdown because I've been spoiled by your jammy, landscapey goodness.

...(sigh)...

[tommo]

I suppose Sunday wasn't really the day to be posting this, heh heh. Um, oops.

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Sweetie...I'm a fag.

[Pixie]

Uh....damn that's JAM! Is that singing I hear? "the hills are alive"

[KittyKo]

I would really like to say something well... coherent besides "jam", but apparently it's the only word that comes to mind right now.
Damn woman, you write good.
*happy happy joy joy*

[tommo]

The great thing is, my mum always keeps a good stock of jam tarts in the fridge. That's what gave me the inspiration, heh. But now...I can't look at 'em without blushing. Ahem.

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Sweetie...I'm a fag.

[LeatherQueen]

WOW.

That was just... inspiring. I think I need to go cool down now.

mmmmm... jam...

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"Honey, I'm the original one-eyed chicklet in the kingdom of the blind." -Glory

[AutumnT]

I uh, erm, really loved the way you captured all the landscape of that rock. It was the best rock ever. But I still like hills.

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Autumn

I have the sudden urge to dedicate my productive cooperation.

[Scout]

Outdoor jam smut at its finest. I need to go find my girlfriend now. whew!

[willow_thebadasswitch]

hooo boy.