Log in

No account? Create an account
03 November 2008 @ 10:09 pm
Severed and Sewn (1/1)  

Wouldn't you know it? I go to work on Bangel and I get my first Fuffy!

Title: Severed and Sewn
Author: ClawofCat
Timing: Post-NFA
Rating: R
Pairing: Faith/Buffy, implied B/S and B/A
Warnings: Sexual situations
Summary: Buffy, suffering from insomnia, reflects on the evening that she and Faith mourned the passing of Angel and Spike.

A/N: My first femmeslash fic. For[info]only_passenger, who likes the girl sex. Consider this an early bday present, since I’m not sure I can manage to get the Catwoman fic written in time. Beta’d by[info]eowyn_315.



At night, the low whirring of the box fan sends long, reaching shadows out across the floor. She watches them, eyes wide in the dark, as the moon follows its lunar rotation, creeping inch by inch. The bed is narrow and the sleeping difficult, but there’s always a hand to grab when her mind won’t settle. It lurches and heaves with dreams and nightmares of heaven and hell, monsters and saints. She thought she had put those away; they never used to be like this.


In Sunnydale, her thoughts would lie with her, silent and settled, bedded down when the work was done. It’s been different since she was divided and halved. The dreams come constantly, an REM intrusion into waking life. She can’t sleep and she’s scared to sleep. The topical aids do nothing for her.


She stops trying to count the lines on the ceiling, and rolls over. Brown hair is thrown across hers on their pillow, filling her vision, a clash of product and grease. She presses her face to the dark strands, rubs her nose into the ends up to the root. He used to do this, always petting her hair, huffing its unique scent in like a prospective buyer at a cosmetic sample counter. She never sold, but he wanted to buy. Looking at Faith next to her, she notices the repeating pattern. Faith breathes heavily through her parted lips, the steady rise and fall of her chest stretching the camisole tight across her breasts.


It was Faith that came to her in Rome, two bags full of grey ash in her luggage. When she handed them to Buffy, her hands shaking, pent-up tears careened off the slope of her nose and chin. She choked back her condolences, her sleeve pressed against her mouth. Faith doesn’t get the dreams; she has memories to haunt her instead. Saw the dragon, saw the blade and the twin explosions of dust that hit the air like whirling sandstorms. 


She only told her that after Buffy broke the kitchen counter and her wrist, and fell to the floor, a tear in one of the bags spreading ash onto the tile, between her toes.


Which one… I don’t know which one of them…


She wept strangled cries of disbelief, hands running into the scattered remnants like they run into Faith’s hair, taking in the sensation because goodbyes come quick and unexpectedly. There’s never enough to hold on to.


Bent down, crouched low, Faith grasped her broken wrist, and held her at that one point of contact as she scooped the cinders back into its Ziploc bag. She only let go long enough to grab a black Sharpie off the counter.


That’s Angel, Faith said, scrawling his name across the slippery plastic, and watched Buffy grab the soles of her feet, stricken with horror underlain with relief. She’d stepped on Spike enough in life, she said. Retrospect shoves courtesy at you like you couldn’t see what had been swept under the kitchen rug before.


I should have been there, she said, drenched in regret like their sandstorm of dust had turned into a rainstorm and let loose a downpour on her head. She got no argument from Faith, the long gash cut into her cheek evidence enough that more hands on deck wouldn’t have been turned away.


She doesn’t remember now how their lips met, a soft, soggy press that wicked up their mutual tears. But she fell into it, scared to pull away when so much pulling away had just taken place. She needed the feeling of now to replace the feeling of then; her fingers made their way to Faith’s hair without wavering. Locked behind her neck, she held her close, clinging tightly to an enemy and ally that she never could seem to reconcile. She looked at Faith and she saw Spike, hints of Angel, her gateway to then via the road of now. She didn’t stop her when her lips fell to her neck and blunt teeth skimmed the hatch mark pattern of scars there. The grief oozed up, in huge, hiccupping sobs as Faith rocked and petted her, making a dance of her lips and teeth and tongue along her throat.


I got one, too, she whispered and drew back, pushing Buffy’s palm against her neck, the part hidden by her hairline. A raised mass of tissue greeted her hand, bumpy and rough.


It never healed right. Was pumped full of some mind-alerting smack at the time. Messed with my bod. It was Faith’s turn to gulp down the burn of sorrow when she remembered the faith they had in each other. Her eyes strayed to the bag on the coffee table, the best man she ever knew reduced to grains of grit. Good, evil, demon all the way, both men gone in an explosion that marked the end of their reigns. She never called Angel boss, but she could almost think of him as equal.


She groaned, surprised, when Buffy worried the ragged mark, her lips sealed over the scar, mimicking the width and breadth of Angel’s own bite. He left his impressions in both their hides, permanent casts of viciousness, his weakness. That’s how he would see it anyway. But not them, who had so little to cherish when so much had been taken.  


Lie back, Faith whispered, her tongue dotting the posts and hoops in Buffy’s ear, as she pushed her into the cushions. Hands under hem, her top was drawn up like a curtain call, marking the start of the show. She closed her eyes, breathed through her mouth, when Faith’s hands roved in silent circles across neck and chest and belly, feeling out all the places where the pain was caught up like a cramp. She rubbed it out of her in soothing pulls and strokes, coaxing each tear and sharp cut of guilt to bubble out of her mouth and make itself heard. She looked down the length of her body when Faith paused at two scars along her belly. Stake through the gut, pierced through with a sword in the final battle. She knew the marks, but not the way she’d memorized the fine burned hatches where she’d clasped hands with Spike, believing it to be the last and only.


What? she whispered, eyes darting from Faith’s to the scars.


Nothing. Just karma or something. She raised her own shirt, dropped it at the end of the couch, and pointed at the thin line on her stomach. She quirked her eyebrows slightly, but there was no need. Buffy knew what it was, didn’t need a reminder to remember how the blade felt and its slight resistance before it sank deep into Faith’s side.       


They gazed at each other over the expanse of Buffy’s body, a pregnant pause of uncertainty and tension, before Faith whispered, it’s cool, and dropped back to her task, wiping the topic of discussion clear off the table. She realized then that lying back wasn’t an option. She’d laid back every time, take, take, taking like it was a sport. They’d taken plenty from each other; a change in strategy was needed. Sitting up, determined, she kissed Faith, and let her hands roam, too, taking action. There had been no excuse, no I didn’t know or I couldn’t get there fast enough. Here now, so she did now.


Faith groaned when Buffy’s fingers dipped between her thighs and swam in the soft, wet sea she found there, like all their tears were diverted downward and were brimming over. They breathed into each other’s mouths, taking in their last breaths. She thought of vampires, how they didn’t breathe last or first, except when they did, except if they were Spike whose breath augmented every emotion. Each catch and sigh, groan, whisper, draught of air made him what he was, who he was. Sturdy, still Angel lacked that kinetic quality of life that Spike had in spades… spades and hearts and clubs, weapons, poker, and bourbon. He could shuffle her like any deck, bringing up a new face but never a matched pair.


Her fingers were caught tight inside when Faith shuddered suddenly. She waited out the pulse and clench that rhythmically squeezed index and middle fingers like a heartbeat; remembered the draw of blood up her throat, the fluttering of her pulse when he drank deep and tore hard. Faith’s own swollen tissues blush rose, suffused skin heating with need. When the ripples subsided, she added a third finger, tucking it in with the rest, remembering the well-worn stretch, how they both filled her for a time, and filled her in that moment.


They were recalled to life in the memory born through Faith’s hands, a slow and steady glide and a hammering, knowing pound to counteract each other. The tears replenished enough to keep her wet and heaving as she stared at the dust, dunes of grey on her coffee table like Spike’s cigarette ziggurats at the base of her front tree. She whined, an ululating mourner’s cry, as Faith brought her to a crest, her mouth a quick study of the repeating pattern that wrenched her higher.


With fingers still slick and glistening, Faith reached for the makeshift urns, dusting the tips of her fingers with ash. The dark grains adhered to the pads and anointed her and Buffy’s lips and forehead like a Father at Ash Wednesday services. They sealed their repentance on a feverish kiss that tasted like tar and battlefield cries. What was left of the dust, Faith tucked away for safe keeping, pushing her fingers back inside the warmth that both vampires had known. All Buffy could do was nod, chest heaving silently, as the grains were left to share her womb – the sweetest damnation they ever knew – riding the current of her sorrowful shudders. Faith shored her up with a quick, rocking movement, pressing them to her and straight into her heart, their proper resting place.


Her fractured wrist knit quickly; her heart took longer, but Faith is always there to grab her hand and hold her together when she thinks she might break again. Tonight she dreamt of fire; her hand still tingles with pinpricks when her fingers brush Faith’s. The touch is light, but familiar. Faith sighs, eyes cracking open in the dim light.


“Still awake?” Her voice is hoarse and raspy, a dry wheeze in the cold air. She rolls onto her side, her hand circling Buffy’s wrist out of habit.


“Dreams. Same old,” she whispers.


“Could punch your lights out. That’ll make you rest easy,” Faith jokes, her thumb pressed to the roadmap of veins on Buffy’s inner wrist. At the junction is a black letter A, guardian and sentry of the integral intersection. Faith sports her own twin tattoo, a mirror of their shared marks at throat, wrist and belly. Linked together at their pulse points, the trinity of remembrance fortifies their bond.


They fit snugly, spooned tight together, a fit unattainable for Buffy before. She’s still restless, having been ripped asunder, her power and self distributed to give the others strength. She understands now the burden that her sister carried, what the feeling of intangibility and unreality feels like. She never expected that it would be Faith to bring her back, to adhere the broken bits of shattered identity.

Hands clasped tight, they forge their own burn, make their own memories, as their twin tattoos kiss between the press of their wrists

slaymesoftlyslaymesoftly on November 4th, 2008 03:31 am (UTC)
*nods* Nicely done and very believable. Kinda rips the heart out...
ClawofCat: fuffy kiss meclawofcat on November 4th, 2008 05:50 pm (UTC)
Thanks! Believability is good. I could just see Faith showing up, devestated, knowing the news will devestate Buffy, too. Our poor Slayers, support and love slipping through their hands. At least they have each other *sniff*

Btw, I had a much easier time writing this than I've had attempting male slash of any sort. What gives? No pronoun confusion either!
(no subject) - slaymesoftly on November 4th, 2008 08:50 pm (UTC) (Expand)
The Anti-OTPsnowpuppies on November 4th, 2008 03:52 am (UTC)
Nicely done.

The image of Faith toting Angel's and Spike's ashes about in Ziploc bags is at the same time absurd and heartbreaking...but well-suited for Faith, I think.

Very interesting take on the pair, hon. I like how both Spike and Angel are tied into this, and as always, you have a wonderful way with grief.

I think my favorite part is the image of Buffy lying next to a soundly-sleeping Faith. Nicely domestic, in a way.
ClawofCat: Buffy just a girlclawofcat on November 4th, 2008 05:56 pm (UTC)
What would one put vamp ashes in, I wonder? I didn't really mean for it to be funny or even absurd, but I guess it is because it's so casual. I just don't see Faith having many other options. It's the thought that counts, right? Uh, minus points for presentation.

I don't think a lot about Fuffy, but I like them and the idea of them. I've been rereading a lot of redbrickrose's work and she also wrote a NFA story with S/B/F/A. I sort of flipped that theme on its head, giving F/B the active roles with S/A as passive participants. Presence while being absent is something I like to play around with.

Thanks for leaving feedback. It's always good to have an opinion from someone who actually writes the pairing!
shawty got flava like a peach lifesaver: btvs: fuffy side by sideonly_passenger on November 4th, 2008 01:16 pm (UTC)
mmm, sweet. just only waking up, but couldn't wait to read this, and glad i didn't.

there is so much about this i love. the back drop--angel and spike, their ashes, faith arriving with them, yes. a year with spike, years with angel, and finally it's faith who reunites them, puts them back into her, of course only when it's futile. because isn't that how it works for buffy? there is no nick of time for her, at least not ever in love.

the twin bites. you write so beautifully, and it's full and clear, their presence, meaning, the memories, and still you don't press too hard on it, so it maintains that slipperiness, boulders to catch faith and buffy each momentarily, to give them pause as they slide down the slope.

you begin with patterns, and even though the theme fades a little behind the action for awhile, there are hints of it everywhere. it holds throughout.

the line for the cut, spike and the spades--gorgeous, gorgeous writing. if i'd written it you'd have called it "classic pass". that's a fucking artful metaphor, and it works, even separated a bit from the rest of the story, because it superimposes canon, fitted as a skin. oh, i love.

“Could punch your lights out. That’ll make you rest easy,” Faith jokes,
i adore this. because faith is shared grief, she is comfort, she intrinsically understands this pain of buffy's and soothe and soothe and soothe, and she's still faith. and must be faith. and this line allows it, speaks volumes about how things are for the two of them in the aftermath.

one thing more: toppy buffy. i know it's not super-toppy buffy, but when she sits up, takes faith, i was just nodding, enthralled, thinking, yes. yes. a little twist that packs big. taken enough. can't lie back. and the ashes, returning them to her, also i think classic of faith, shows a side of her i love, this wordless empathy, this gift.

i read this, and i think faith must love her so much, and i love when a writer can make me think that, because i want to believe it.

you made me believe it, with this.

thank you.

ClawofCat: Buffy stake raisedclawofcat on November 4th, 2008 06:08 pm (UTC)
I got all teary when I was reading your feedback. I'm not sure if it's what you say or how you say it, but it always kinda touches this soft place in me that creates gushy feelings. I'm so glad you liked this. I was trying to "channel" you.

It is interesting that Faith is the link here since these boys were such a mode of contention between them, especially Angel. It's like she can put all that aside, and just respect this event for what it is - devestating, painful and one that deserves some solemn respect. She does the right thing.

you begin with patterns, and even though the theme fades a little behind the action for awhile, there are hints of it everywhere.
Shit, yeah. I meant to keep that going in a stronger fashion, but it got away a little bit and I didn't catch it and tie it back together when I revised. When I originally wrote this I switched from past back to present midway into the sex scene and spent a lot of time just trying to fix the tenses! The content ran away. Does that ever happen to you? Tense switch? I do it a lot, actually. Present is just so immediate and I kinda forget and go to it by default. *slaps wrist* Laura keeps me in check though, bless her heart.

spike and the spades--gorgeous, gorgeous writing. if i'd written it you'd have called it "classic pass".
Yes. That was one place where I was like "There she is." I love that line. Might be my favorite of the whole fic, which is why it's the one I chose as the teaser for the cut. That stream of consciousness thing that you sometimes do.

LOL. Thought you might like toppy Buffy. I just thought it was an organic development in the story, her desire to be active in the face of lose because she doesn't know when she'll have another chance. But it did occur to me that you'd dig it. Buffy doesn't get to top too often, but I love it when she does, like in "Clutch."

Thanks for the amazing feedback. I found it rather ironic that your shot is all about the bite, and their respective bites are one of the first gateways into their encounter. Cheers, babe. Will leave f/b on IATW tonight during election coverage. Can't wait to see the changes.
InMyDreamsTara: BFkiss (DO NOT TAKE!)lesbianbutch04 on November 5th, 2008 09:51 pm (UTC)
For you first time you did wonderful, it was slashy yet classy at the same time. Pulled all the heart strings and had my two out of four favorite BTVS girls in it. Brovo!
ClawofCat: tara willowclawofcat on November 6th, 2008 04:57 am (UTC)
Thanks! New pairings are always a little exciting and nerve-wracking to write. I like to keep things classy where I can ;)

Who are your other two favorite girls? Willow/Tara?
(no subject) - lesbianbutch04 on November 6th, 2008 05:11 am (UTC) (Expand)
puro puta.: fuffyonedimpledcheek on November 6th, 2008 03:38 am (UTC)
In terms of something as close to the show and its actual characters, this is the best I've read thus far. You have the two of them down here, better than I've seen them, and I've read some pretty amazing characterizations.

Buffy and Faith as they were shown to us could never become lovers on their own. It just wasn't ever going to be that way.

But this...this was so relevatory for me.

The incorporation of the ashes in the act was so stunning, my eyes pricked with tears. Because Buffy and Faith have only ever known pain, and it seems fitting that such heartbreak would bring them together. They represent everything unfortunate, and yet, everything memorable and valuable in each other's lives. And when Buffy realize how much it fits, you smile because you knew it all along, and you're glad they've finally arrived at this point.

Because, as we know, they are the only two of their kind with that bond that is transcendent. They complete each other, because they fill all voids in the other.

Beyond what I've said, I cannot tell you enough how much I love this. I'd even dare to think, in this very moment, that it might become my overall favorite of any B/F story.

It's them. And it makes so much damn sense and feels so right. Thanks for this.
ClawofCat: faith reflectionclawofcat on November 6th, 2008 05:10 am (UTC)
Wow. Thank you so much for your in-depth and thoughtful comment. This is my first time writing the pair, so it's very gratifying to hear that I stayed true to who they were as we knew them. I write Buffy and Faith in other pairings quite frequently and I consider them my best characters. It was about time I wrote them together.

The incorporation of the ashes in the act was so stunning, my eyes pricked with tears.
Heh, I do try to shoot for tears. I write a lot of angst, so when my work touches readers at that level, it's so satisfying. Pain is such a part of who these two women are, it seems natural that they would find a bond in shared grief.

I'd even dare to think, in this very moment, that it might become my overall favorite of any B/F story.
High praise, indeed. I'm glad I could give you a story that was touching and perhaps even a bit thoughtful. I only wish more people would read it!

If you liked this, I recommend reading Gemini and Angels in the Architecture by only_passenger. I wrote this fic in her style and those are two excellent Faith/Biffy fics.
(no subject) - onedimpledcheek on November 6th, 2008 02:53 pm (UTC) (Expand)
a heartful of you: mayor/faithaheartfulofyou on November 6th, 2008 04:15 pm (UTC)
This is so, so good. I think this might be my absolute favorite Buffy/Faith story. The Ziploc bags and Buffy spilling one and not knowing who's Angel and who's Spike, the ashes inside her, all of these little details are fantastic. Guh. I love this.
ClawofCat: buffy hurtsclawofcat on November 7th, 2008 10:05 pm (UTC)
Wow. Thank you. It's wonderful to hear you enjoyed it so much. B/F has been on my to-do list for awhile. I only just got the inspiration after watching a fanvid, of all things.

all of these little details are fantastic
I like to work nuance and details into my work where I can, and those ashes are really what drive this fic. It's amazing how much presence Angel and Spike can have here with being completely absent. I, too, loved the moment when she spills the bag and when Faith puts them inside her.

Thanks for reading!
mere ubu: buffy stairsmere_ubu on November 20th, 2008 02:09 am (UTC)
This is beautiful. *sniffle* Now I need a kleenex! Your Slayer-on-Slayer action was smokin'--I would never have guessed it was your first. And the premise is just heartbreaking, although I gotta say that I can't imagine either vamp objecting to going out like that.

Also? I have to single "cigarette ziggurats" out for smoochies. Fabulous!
ClawofCat: faith downcastclawofcat on November 20th, 2008 03:15 am (UTC)
This is beautiful. *sniffle* Now I need a kleenex!
*dabs away the tears* I know. Our poor girls. Whenever I write fics like this that explore lose in these really intimate ways I'm overcome with such strong feelings of love for my characters. They have to bear so much, carry such a burden and god, they are so strong. I know they're only fictional, but I admire them for living and surviving in the ways they do.

Your Slayer-on-Slayer action was smokin'--I would never have guessed it was your first.
Yeah... *toes the ground* Never done girl on girl before. For me, I find when I strip out the kinky stuff and just have characters connect at an emotional level, it's easier to write pairings that I'm a little less familiar with. Because then you don't have to worry about the sex. The sex is secondary, really. Sometimes I'd like to say, "I'm a smut writer, but..." I think it's the but part that's really compelling.

I have to single "cigarette ziggurats" out for smoochies.
This fic is one of those painless beauties that came out in one go. I didn't set out to write it. It just demanded to be put to page. I didn't plot, didn't even know where it was going. Just wrote. When it's like that my prose starts to veer off in long winding roads. Ziggurat is such a sexy, exotic word, and so unBuffy-like, but beautiful that I wanted to work it in.

Thanks for reading, darling. I'm always a little tickled when you venture into the non-Spuffy fic. Between you and me, I think my non-Spuffy tends to be better.
playfuldancer: DancerFaith2playfuldancer on November 20th, 2008 03:00 am (UTC)
Beautifully done as always.

I always like Faith stories and I REALLY likes yours!!

ClawofCat: faithsmileclawofcat on November 20th, 2008 03:17 am (UTC)
*smiles* Thanks! Faith is very special to me. I have a lot of love for her and Buffy. She's one of those chicks that just wrestles her way into your heart.
Zoezoesmith on November 20th, 2008 08:04 am (UTC)
Poor girls, I'm so glad the have each other.
ClawofCat: hotchicksclawofcat on November 21st, 2008 03:16 am (UTC)
Me, too! Slayers gotta stick together. Thanks for reading.
slayershandbook: lurkingslayershandbook on November 20th, 2008 09:21 am (UTC)
Oh, wonderful!
I'm normally not one for femmeslash, but I really like this one. Partly because Spike and Angel are incorporated so seamlessly, and partly because everything rings true to the characters.

She'd stepped on Spike enough in life, she said. Retrospect shoves courtesy at you like you couldn't see what had been swept under the kitchen rug before.
This line actually made me tear up a bit. (Spuffy girl here.)

The whole thing was heartbreaking and yet beautiful.
ClawofCat: coc spuffy kissclawofcat on November 21st, 2008 03:22 am (UTC)
Thanks so much for taking a chance on this. I'm not really into femmeslash myself, but this fic just demanded to be written, so I obeyed. It's femmeslash for het lovers. I'd say that Buffy and Faith are my best characters, so writing them together felt pretty natural. I'm glad the characterization rang true to you. Pushing them to the angsty place always makes my haert go pitter patter.

Spuffy girl here
I've written a lot of Spuffy, if you're interested in taking a peek. All my fic is linked on my sidebar and listed by pairing.
hello_spikeyhello_spikey on November 20th, 2008 08:20 pm (UTC)
Damn. You made me read femmeslash!

And you made me like it!

I may never forgive you.


(Seriously - very poetic. GOSH the angst! And I teared up a little at them both, at the labeling of the plastic bag and Faith having faith and all... *wibble*)
ClawofCat: coc faithclawofcat on November 21st, 2008 03:29 am (UTC)
LOL. Ah, well, it never hurts to step out of our usual reading habits every now and then. Sometimes we're pleasantly surprised ;)

This fic was one of those sleeper agents that just snuck up on me and dribbled out of my brain, sentence by sentence. When I don't plot, my writing tends to veer into poetic metaphors. That was also me trying to write like only_passenger. She's got that stream of consciousness tinge to her work, too.

GOSH the angst! And I teared up a little at them both
They are two little angst queens, yeah. Poor girls, hurting so much, so much loss. When I write these very intense/intimate fics, I always get this swell of awe and love for them. The Jossverse is full of fighters, and I love that.
texican5x5texican5x5 on April 24th, 2009 06:58 am (UTC)
I'm speechless right now. This is so many things it's kinda overwhelming. Thank you.
ClawofCat: fuffy kiss meclawofcat on April 24th, 2009 05:31 pm (UTC)
I'm very glad to hear it was so affecting. It's my first femmeslash fic, so I'm always a bit tickled to hear that I got it right with these two. Thanks so much for commenting.
Faith Alana Alastairfaithlessfate on May 7th, 2009 02:48 am (UTC)
Whoa! *fans self* hotness...

the ash impregnating Buffy on Faith's fingers.... genius.
ClawofCat: fangel s3clawofcat on May 7th, 2009 04:25 am (UTC)
the ash impregnating Buffy on Faith's fingers.... genius.
Thank you. I really liked that addition myself. Twisting religious imagery to give it a whole new meaning is always fun and, often times, very beautiful.

Just to be clear though - Buffy isn't pregnant! Just ashes, no semen.
(no subject) - faithlessfate on May 7th, 2009 04:28 am (UTC) (Expand)
(Deleted comment)
ClawofCat: pondersclawofcat on May 11th, 2009 05:51 pm (UTC)
Thanks :D This fic wrote itself - a rare treat for me. I think I banged it out in an hour and a half. That's how it always is when I write something for Pass. I luff her <3

As an aside, can Slayers get tattooed?
Faith has that tattoo on her arm, so I'm going to say yes. Buffy has pierced ears and the holes never seem to close up. Aren't tattoos simply ink under the skin? I'm sure the points where the needle punctures must heal instantly, but the ink should stay.
(Deleted comment)
ClawofCat: fuffy kiss meclawofcat on July 25th, 2009 11:44 pm (UTC)
Thanks so much for your lovely comment. This is a special fic for me because it was so organic. I wrote and it came. I didn't have a place I wanted to go with it, I didn't plan the plot or the metaphors, it just was there at my fingertips as I progressed down the Word document. I can't say that stream of consciousness writing is the way I work. It isn't. But it worked here. I look at this fic and it really is a slice of my creative process. The malestrom of pretty phrases and emotional ache and erotic moments make up much of my fic and my thought process when considering fic. It's like this story is undiluted - how it looks when concepts first come to me. A beautiful mass of chaos.

The phrasing and word choice is crazy awesome... and incrediby beautiful
It's so gratifying to hear this because it's what I want as a writer. Some are great story tellers, but me, I want the words to sing. It's the picture painting and emotional capture that draws me to fic. So I'm very happy to know that this piece touched you in the way it was meant.