For the benefit of sever'l readers...
These Tales are not meant to Alarm or Annoy Mr. Bennet, Miss Disher, Mr. Head, Mistress Carpenter, Mr. Duchovny, Mistress Anderson, Mr. Brendon, any of their friends and Relations, nor their Servants, Solicitors, Bondsmen, Hangers On, or to fret their Domestick Animals.
There is no intention on the Part of the Authouress to Infringe or make Careless usage of the Copyrights Held by Msr. Chris Carter, Mr. Whedon, Mr. Straczinsky, Mr. Parriot, Mr. Slan, nor any of their Solicitors or Bondsmen.
These tales are Not to be Consider'd a Mark against such fine Upstanding Citzens.
Marcus, his friend Mags and other assorted Characters of Note are under the tutalage of Mistress Keene, and mayn't go out to play without their Mother's Permission.
For Readers of Delicate Sensibilities, persons use Impolite Language, engage in Sexual Situations of a Reasonably Conventional Nature.
(In other words, "Don't sue.")
And so, without further ado...
He took off his shirt and trousers and stretched out on top of the comforter. Leaning over, he poured another drink. Resting the glass on his chest, he stared off into nothing.
Christmas Eve, 2259
It was at that moment that he'd realized how beautiful she was. Not just looks, no, that had happened in the Fresh Aire when she'd walked in the black dress and apologized for being late. She'd taken his breath away then. No -- when she touched his hand, his face and told him not to look away -- that he'd realized how beautiful she was -- to him.
Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Trust in Loneliness
Dammit, he knew telling the others about Faith was a bad idea. They didn't get it. Of course, neither did he at the time. At least not until Faith's fingers closed off his breath and he'd seen red stars explode.
I Don't Know What Started It
Maybe it's his way of pushing me back, just like me being a bitch pushes him. Maybe we're too scared to love each other. I don't know, but I can't go on like this; but I can't seem to stop either.
I Can't Stop Thinking About It
A sequel to I Don't Know What Started It. I can't stop thinking about it. Well, I can. For a while. Like when Buffy and I are out patrolling, or Giles is talking about demons. But in history class, forget it. The collapse of the Russian Empire can go hang.
The waiting was the worst part for her. It was then that she felt the most exposed, the most humiliated, the most unsure of herself. There had to be something wrong with her for needing this.
A sequel to Want. Things were changing between them and she was scared.
Setting The New Boundaries
Sequel to Changes. Cordelia loved what he did to her. It was the only time she felt like her real self showed. It was okay to trust him. He was the only person she knew that she had no doubts of. He didn't take her for granted. He made her feel beautiful again. He broke through to her. He made it safe for her.
Natalie closed her front door behind her, and rested her back against it.
She felt relaxed and happy. Well, why shouldn't she? It was her birthday,
He flew, wondering if she'd be waiting for him. She'd know, she
always knew. But would she come for him?
Walter Skinner wanted to wrap up this meeting. He hated disciplinary meetings, and ones with Mulder and Scully were becoming too much of a habit lately. Fond as he was of these two, he'd knock their heads silly if it could get them to show some common sense.
It had taken a long time for Mulder to convince himself to do this. He needed to do something to fight the awful restlessness building inside him. Everything seemed to be frustrating him, the lost leads and closed doors, the dangers and risks leading nowhere, the dressing downs on Skinner's carpet. So much of his life was dark, sterile and oppressive. When was the last time he'd done anything fun?
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