Is it strange to attempt to ward off a slight fit of depression by imagining Lee and Grant in a secret meeting in a tent somewhere around Vicksburg, Lee furiously and contemptously smashing Grant's wine bottles to the ground, wrestling Grant away from them when Grant tries to go for them, and then somehow ending up as angry, sexy cockrub warriors against a desk? Wrong? Maybe, and yet meanwhile, Grant remembering being a first year at West Point, looking up to the uber-cool and controlled Lee, wanting to challenge his control? "Can you taste the liquor on my lips, Robert?" breathed hot and heavy into his ear as Lee moans and grabs the back of Grant's head and shoves him to his knees....*has problems...*

A-HEM

And anyway, it's not my depression this time. Well it's other people's problems pressing down on my wittle shoulders.

Other People's...Problems...(I'm down with OPP --yeah you know me--)

From: [identity profile] pir8fancier.livejournal.com


Buster was a real weenie. Can you imagine the horror of his men when they realized that he fucked up. Big time.

Just finished new pirate smut for remixredux! SO GO ME! The first new pirate slash I've written in a year. Also saw that pirategasm is putting together an archive if you want to put your pirate stuff up there. Will keep you posted.

From: [identity profile] rispacooper.livejournal.com


finishing anything is an accomplishment. finishing smut...you deserve a medal. there is a serious lack of good smut out there.

From: [identity profile] rispacooper.livejournal.com


i just fiogured you gave him a nickname...in ghetto terms, a 'buster' (pronounced bustah) would be a punk bitch...someone who fronts/is fake

rispa's dorky dictionary, at your service
.

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