I believe everything people say

Unless the speaker is some combination of handsome, smooth and male. I'm also awful with the 'unreliable narrator' thing in fiction. I have a terrible tendency to assume the 'heroes' are supposed to be right.

Perhaps then, it is not surprising that I believed Buffy all 500 times that she told Spike that she was never going to touch him, ever, ever again. I believed this all the way up until she pulled his erection out of his pants and hopped eagerly onto it, at which point I fell over in shock. Of course, I had to rewatch several times to be certain of what I had seen.

Buffy's protestations aside, I never thought ME would let their heroine get groiny with a vampire evil vampire. And having tumbled her from her pedestal, I guess they wanted her to see the sights. Why they thought this would be be a grand idea, I'll never know. I really wish they hadn't. Even if I liked watching Buffy on the rack for an entire season, which I don't, watching Spike on the rack is pure torture.

The Joy of Reproduction

Nursing an infant and cradling it close brings feelings of contentment and well-being that I can reach no other way. That's not true. These feelings, they're practically post-coital. Coincidence? I think not. I engage in reproductive behavior and I am stroked. Keep up the good work!

I often run my cheek over their baby fuzz and breath in their baby smell. Who knows what many orders of adoration are concealed within this delightful stuff. My baby! My precious, my sweet pea, my little love. But only for a couple of years. So I gather them close often, and write sappy posts on my LJ.