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From: owner-buffyfic@lists.xmission.com (buffyfic-digest)
To: buffyfic-digest@lists.xmission.com
Subject: buffyfic-digest V2 #348
Reply-To: $SENDER
Sender: owner-buffyfic@lists.xmission.com
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Precedence: bulk
buffyfic-digest Friday, October 9 1998 Volume 02 : Number 348
In this issue:
BUFFYFIC: Story Editor
BUFFYFIC:Harsh Little Girl 1/1
BUFFYFIC: Love's Revival (22/25)
BUFFYFIC: DISCUSS: Idea from "Dead Man's Party"
See the end of the digest for information on (un)subscribing to the buffyfic
or buffyfic-digest mailing lists and on how to retrieve back issues.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
Date: Thu, 8 Oct 1998 09:57:28 EDT
From: Aglx@aol.com
Subject: BUFFYFIC: Story Editor
I am in desperate need of a good story editor just for the rest of my "Love
Revival" series. I can't get in contact with my current editor, and judging
from the feedback I'm getting to hurry up and send the final version, I need
to get it out soon.
If anyone would be willing to help me out, there are only 5 more parts to
edit. All I need is someone to go over it, check my grammar and spelling and
phrasing and then send me back the story with all the corrections made. That's
all. I'd appreciate any help I could get since I really want to get this story
out, but my whole reasoning for having an editor is the fact that I'm not to
great at catching my own mistakes. ( :
Thanks in advance.
- -Michelle
------------------------------
Date: Thu, 8 Oct 1998 20:42:39 -0400
From: blue_moose@juno.com (Jaina Solo)
Subject: BUFFYFIC:Harsh Little Girl 1/1
Title:Harsh Little Girl
Part of my "At the Choirgirl Hotel" universe, companion piece to "Exit
75", at this time unposted.
Author:Jaina
Feedback:Absolutely! I adore feedback and will respond to all of it.
Constructive criticism is great too, but flames will be immediately and
cheerfully posted to my webpage so the whole internet can learn all about
trolls. Any comments you have should be sent to blue_moose@juno.com
Distribution:If you'd like to archive this, please ask me first so I know
where it's going.
Rating:PG
Disclaimer:Once upon a time in LA, there was a very creative man named
Joss Whedon who came up with the idea of Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all
related...stuff. Today he's pretty rich. He owns them; I don't.
Capice?
Author's Notes:This is a post Becoming Part 2 piece. I started this
before Anne and finished it after, so disregard everything you saw in
that episode while reading. :-) It's kind of a dark piece written from
Joyce Summer's point of view. Its companion piece, "Exit 75," is being
written and should be posted soon. Both stories in the Choirgirl
universe have titles taken from lyrics from songs by Tori Amos on her
newest CD, "From the Choirgirl Hotel." This one is from her most
excellent song, Playboy Mommy.
- ----------------------
Harsh Little Girl
- ----------------------
In my platform shoes, I trip over to the bar. My feet are slowly
going numb, pinched by the tight leather, but hey, my feet look great.
Maybe the rest of me does, too-I'm picking up some looks from other
patrons. Not bad for a full-time mother of one turned gallery manager.
Maybe it's the makeup I found in my daughter's room during my frantic
search through her things. Maybe it's the shoes I borrowed from her
closet. Hell, it might just be because these things are damned hard to
walk in and I look slightly inebriated. I must be a puzzle for them.
Drunks usually stumble *out* of bars, not into them. It's gonna be a
grand old show when I leave in several hours' time.
I sit down at the bar and order a screwdriver. The bartender
gives me a worried look, but makes the drink. I guess he's worried he'll
have to escort a respectable woman-a respectably drunk woman-home at the
end of the night. I ignore him. I feel drunk already. I've felt drunk
since she left. She. I amaze myself sometimes; I can't even bring
myself to say her name. Product of my loins, Mom's best friend...total
stranger. You know, before I found the gallery, I thought about buying a
larger house and taking on boarders. I changed my mind when I thought
about all the dangers involved. Any type of dangerous person could be in
our house. And my daughter, she was so trusting. I couldn't take that
kind of risk, no matter how paranoid it seemed.
Well, paranoia it wasn't. There *was* a dangerous person living
with me. But the danger wasn't to my child-it *was* my child. She had a
whole life, a whole world I never suspected even existed. When I got her
note I was terrified. It was the final proof of all I didn't know about
her. My wonderful little girl would never have run away. The young
woman my daughter has become did. And I have no idea how or where to
look for her, because I just don't know her. I don't carry any insights
into her mind that will tell me where she's gone. I didn't do the
responsible thing by calling her father and the police, not necessarily
in that order. Neither would be able to offer any help, anyway. I did
the panicky thing, the crazy thing. I tore through her room, her
possessions. I was searching for...I don't know. Searching for *her*,
in a way. I was looking for some clue, no matter how small, that would
lead me to the knowledge of who my daughter really was. I didn't find
much, yet I found everything. Wooden stakes and vials of holy water;
tools of the stranger in my house. I was way past the point of being
fazed by them. And then I succeeded in my quest-I found my daughter's
diary. Her words. I read it and I'm not ashamed of it. She'd hate it,
but if we're such strangers, why should it matter what she thinks?
Written in her hand, I found the truth. And the truth is, she just
didn't trust me. She's never trusted me. Damn her!
I snatch my drink from the bartender's hand and take gulp. The
alcohol burns its way down my throat. Good, now it matches the inferno
of my heart, my mind. I'm filled with a sudden bitterness. If she was
to walk in here right now, tearful and apologetic, I really don't know if
I could find it in me to forgive her. I'm not saying I wouldn't, or
couldn't; I just don't know. For over a decade now she's been my world.
I've done my best, tried to be a good parent, especially when her father
and I split and my workload doubled. Have I been a perfect mother? No.
Of course not. As far as I know, only Mary was, and I'm no sinless
virgin. But I *did* do my best, and what do I get in return? Hidden
secrets. Lies. She never even tried telling me the truth. That's what
tears me up inside. I can't say I would have accepted it without qualms,
but I would have *tried* to understand. I'd have endeavored to find some
meaning to it all and lived with what I found. But she robbed me of
that. She hid the truth until it was too late for calm talks and
eventual acceptance. She threw it all on me and then had the guts to
resent my anger. My world was imploding and she was playing the
self-righteous martyr, as if she'd surveyed the available paths and
chosen this course as the best to travel upon. If some not-so-divine
intervention hadn't prompted me to witness the actions of her true self,
I'd still never know. How dare she. How dare she.
I notice that my drink is empty and I'm suddenly tired and I
wonder-where is she now? Is my child alive and well, or has she become
the victim of one of the illusory monsters I always feared? I feel a
pang in my heart. What am I doing here? Spilling out my sorrows to the
bottom of a cheap shot glass? Maybe I'm trying to run away from the
fact that I'm scared to death. Stranger or not, she's always been my
world...and if I'm being honest to myself, she still is. Every moment
I'm here is another moment she's gone. It occurs to me-is this what it's
like for her? Unknowing to what nightmare may come, knowing that the sky
is falling, the sky is falling....and never being able to tell a soul.
I don't know. Maybe I'll never know. All I know is that I'm
sitting alone in a noisy bar while my child is somewhere far away...and I
am as blind as I have ever been.
___________________________________________________________________
You don't need to buy Internet access to use free Internet e-mail.
Get completely free e-mail from Juno at http://www.juno.com
or call Juno at (800) 654-JUNO [654-5866]
------------------------------
Date: Fri, 9 Oct 1998 09:53:15 EDT
From: Aglx@aol.com
Subject: BUFFYFIC: Love's Revival (22/25)
Title: Love's Revival (22/25)
Author: AnGeL X (Aglx@aol.com)
Distrbution: Just Ask & Keep my name attached!
Spoilers: Takes place after Becoming
Rating: PG/PG-13 Violence.
Description: Buffy/Angel Love Story.
Disclaimer: Plot Mine. Characters all but Savarah are mine!
I own nothing that's really Buffy, never will, don't sue.
Feedback: I live for it. I also refuse to write without it!
Thanks so much to all those who offered to help me with my stories. I
had no idea there were even that many people on the list! (:
Sunnydale was unusually quiet for a late night. The tension
between Buffy and Angel only made it worse. They walked side
by side down the sidewalk of a Sunnydale neighborhood. Few
lights were left on in the nearby houses and the effect it
created gave even Buffy the creeps.
Repeated glances up to Angel's face was all she could do
to keep from exploding. < I killed her. He made her and I killed
her. >
"Angel?" Buffy whispered.
Without a word, he stopped and looked at her.
"Are, are you okay?" She stuttered. The pain she knew he
had to be going through was tearing her up inside. And she hated
Drusilla. She knew she had to die, but she never thought it'd
cause Angel any pain.
"Fine. I should have done that a long time ago. It would
have been better for all of us."
"Oh, don't talk like that lover. Drusilla was your
greatest creation. Don't be ashamed of such exotic work." Savarah
leaned up against a tree trunk and smiled down on them.
Buffy could see Angel's face flood with anger as the
devil's figure came into his focus behind her. She spun around
quickly and stood blocking Angel from his greatest enemy.
"Oh that's good Buffy. You stand in front of him and
protect him. I'm sure that will work."
Angel pushed Buffy out of the way and stepped casually
towards Savarah. "We all know what needs to be done. So let's get
it done!"
"Ooh I love how ambitious you are!" Savarah squealed in a
high pitched tone. "But, I'm not here to fight you. That time will
come. But it's not tonight."
"That's all you're about isn't it? Just games."
"How am I supposed to have any fun if I don't play games?"
"So why'd you come?"
"Dear Buffy, do you really think I would miss Drusilla's
death?"
"You came, you saw, now get the hell out of here!" Angel
hissed.
"Okay, okay. I'll see you soon Buffy. Really soon."
"I'll be waiting."
Savarah turned away into brisk Sunnydale night.
* * * * *
"Dead?"
"Yes Giles. For the three thousandth time. She's dead."
"I'm sorry. Its just I wasn't prepared for you to take on
her death."
"Huh?"
"Spike. I can only imagine what he has in store for you and
Angel now that you killed Drusilla."
"I can handle Spike."
"We don't have time for this!" Angel said. He was perched
up on the counter in the library with his head buried in his hands.
"We need to find out how to stop Savarah!"
"Yes. But I'm afraid I don't have any good news. There is
only one way to kill her. Angel would have to do it. The problem is,
there's no guarantee she won't try another trick like the last
time."
"So this is your basic loose-loose situation, huh?" Xander
said interrupting his normally quiet existence in the room.
"Unless she doesn't try anything and just fights you, I'm
afraid Xander's right. There will never be an end to it."
"Well, that's a risk we're just going to have to take!"
Buffy rose from her chair and moved towards Angel who continued to
hide his face from everyone. "Angel?" He didn't respond. His body
just sat there, unmoving. "Angel, are you going to help me?"
"Of course I'll help you. But Buffy, I don't want to live
like this. I don't want you to have to live like this. Always
waiting for her next attack? What if she kills me?"
"She won't."
Angel hopped off the counter and wrapped his arms around
Buffy's waist. "I don't want to lose you again."
"You won't. I won't let her hurt you. We'll figure a way
out of this. We have to."
"Uh, guys?" Cordelia said from the stairs. "What about
Spike?"
"We'll take care of him."
"I got it!" Willow shouted from her trance-like state in
front of the computer screen.
"Got what?" Everyone rushed over by her and awaited to
news of her findings.
"The answer to our problem. I found a spell that will
keep Savarah from cursing you again."
"This is why I love you Willow. You always save us when we
need you," Xander said wrapping his arms around her. Cordelia and
Oz both gave him warning glares. "What? She's my friend. I'm allowed
to hug my friend, aren't I?"
"Don't thank me yet. We still have to perform the ritual
before Savarah comes after you." Willow clicked the mouse a few
more times and then paper came spewing out of the printer next to
her.
"Xander, Cordelia. I need you two to go get these items.
We'll need them for the ritual." They nodded and took the piece
of paper on their way rushing out the doors. "Oz, you stay here
with me and help me set up."
"Sure. Anything you need."
"Giles, I think it might be a good idea if you and Buffy
do some training while we prepare. It'll take a few hours. Buffy's
going to need all the practice she can get."
"Yes ma'am Watcher Willow!" Buffy said with sarcastic grin
on her face. Buffy looked up at Angel with those pathetic puppy
dog eyes.
"Wanna help me train?"
"Oh no you don't. Don't look at me with those cute puppy
dog eyes!" After a few seconds of her continued glare, he caved.
"Okay, okay. But watch the low blows. I've gotta fight her too."
"I'll be gentle."
"Enough!" Giles shouted. "We have a lot of work to do."
~~~~
That's all for now. Today's my b-day and I'm going to party!
- -Michelle
------------------------------
Date: Fri, 09 Oct 1998 11:12:42 -0700
From: "J. Jericho Born" <traction@sirius.com>
Subject: BUFFYFIC: DISCUSS: Idea from "Dead Man's Party"
I had an idea for writing a fanfic inspired by Buffy's offhand comment in
"Dead Man's Party" where she said, "How about home schooling? It's not just
for scary religious people anymore." Since I myself have been home schooled
for more than five years now I thought I'd write a kind of "spin-off" of BtVS
where Buffy becomes home schooled and introduces a new gang of slayerettes
based on archetypes of home schoolers I've observed. I thought it could be
kind of funny and quirky, any comments?
- -JB
------------------------------
End of buffyfic-digest V2 #348
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