Once more With Feeling: Faith and Tim
That's disturbing. You're emotionally scarred and will end up badly.
Anya ,'Bring On The Night'
Buffista Fic: It Could Be Plot Bunnies
Where the Buffistas let their fanfic creative juices flow. May contain erotica.
erikaj - Aug 22, 2003 2:07:34 pm PDT #6127 of 10001
Always Anti-fascist!
deborah grabien - Aug 22, 2003 2:10:00 pm PDT #6128 of 10001
It really doesn't matter. It's just an opinion. Don't worry about it. Not worth the hassle.
erika, nope - this is giving me a 404 error.
But I'm off to LJ to read more.
erikaj - Aug 22, 2003 2:15:57 pm PDT #6129 of 10001
Always Anti-fascist!
Me too. Conquering new technology is not in the plan this week. Maybe my settings aren't right. This, I'll let go of.
§ ita § - Aug 22, 2003 2:24:13 pm PDT #6130 of 10001
Well not canonically, no, but this is transformative fiction.
I edited for you, erika. You had
<a href="Faith">http://www.livejournal.com/users/chicating/1283.html"> Faith and Tim</a>
where you should have had
<a href="http://www.livejournal.com/users/chicating/1283.html"> Faith and Tim</a>
deborah grabien - Aug 23, 2003 10:04:28 pm PDT #6131 of 10001
It really doesn't matter. It's just an opinion. Don't worry about it. Not worth the hassle.
Third Thing That Should Have Happened in Sunnydale
He sat upstairs in the room that had been his all through childhood, and understood the true root of panic.
Downstairs, his insane family was doing what they always did: getting drunk, being ugly, picking fights. Welcome to Xander and Anya's blessed day, he thought bitterly.
He was sweating, sweating so bad it came through the shirt and the rented tux. It stained his pits, ignoring the puny efforts of the Mitchum anti-perspirant; it dripped down and spotted his cummerbund.
He couldn't marry her. He couldn't let her in for this. He just couldn't.
Someone knocked on the door. He called something out, a meaningless false reassurance, something about being out in a few minutes. Whoever it was made a meaningless noise back, and presumably went away.
Bullshit, Harris, he thought, and covered his face with his hands. You are so full of bullshit, that's what makes your eyes brown. You're not going out there in a few minutes. Your knees are like overcooked linguine, you're on the verge of crapping yourself, and you aren't walking anywhere...
"Problem?"
He nearly screamed. The voice came from his elbow: pleasant, male, a light reedy tenor.
He looked up at the man who had spoken, who must have been in here all along. This was a complete stranger. Xander had never seen him before in his life. There was something very liberating about that.
"Problem, oh yes. A little tiny one. What are you doing in my room, by the way?"
"I knocked just now." The man nodded towards the door. "You sounded like a cheap wineglass about to hit flagstones frm a very great height. I thought I'd let myself in and see if I could maybe help you avoid the big kee-rash. You might have seen me walk in, but you had your head in your hands. What's the deal, dude? Don't tell me you're having second thoughts about Anya?"
"Not Anya, no." Xander watched his hands, weaving together, the knuckles whitening and then flooding with colour as he twisted them together. "She's not the problem. She's the one who's going to suffer because of the problem. I love her like a big old loving thing and there's no way in hell I can marry her. Jesus, I am so fucking hosed."
"Ah." The tenor sounded different somehow, a bit more focussed. "Your family?"
"The Clan Harris," Xander agreed bitterly. It was a relief, talking to someone he didn't know or care if he ever laid eyes on again. "Who else? My drunken pig father, my equally drunk but much shriller mother, all the aunts and uncles, in all their goddamned stupid racist bigoted closed-off dumbassed glory. They've already started picking on her, belittling her, putting her down. She gets hurt, she gets blunt, they get it uglier, and it all goes around and around and around like a hamster on crack. Shit. You know what?"
"What?"
"I'd love it if they'd all just fuck off and die, already. They've been ruining my life lo, these many moons and now they're about to make my marriage impossible and I am sick and tired of them. I wish to hell they'd just disappear."
"Done," said the man, and Xander understood, a moment too late, just what he meant.
A few minutes later, febrile and sweating but essentially at peace, Xander Harris straightened his tie and walked down the aisle.
Am-Chau Yarkona - Aug 23, 2003 10:37:30 pm PDT #6132 of 10001
I bop to Wittgenstein. -- Nutty
Oh, deb. Nice one.
DCJensen - Aug 23, 2003 10:47:39 pm PDT #6133 of 10001
All is well that ends in pizza.
heee. Great Deb.
I would like to add a two sentence followup to your story:
Each corpse had an unexplainable grip on its genital area. This whole case baffled the Sunnydale police... but then again, what didn't?
Beverly - Aug 23, 2003 10:49:14 pm PDT #6134 of 10001
Days shrink and grow cold, sunlight through leaves is my song. Winter is long.
Oh, wow. I could almost wish that for Xander. A guy vengeance demon, way to subvert the paradigm, Deb!
erika, I've been keeping up with the Faith N Tim show in LJ. Still with the true voices.
Victor, that was choice. All those ends tied up neatly. Very tasty, thanks!
deborah grabien - Aug 23, 2003 10:52:40 pm PDT #6135 of 10001
It really doesn't matter. It's just an opinion. Don't worry about it. Not worth the hassle.
Heh. Daniel, only problem is, he didn't actually wish for them to fuck off - he said he wanted that. He wished for them to disappear.
I like yours, though.
DCJensen - Aug 23, 2003 10:53:31 pm PDT #6136 of 10001
All is well that ends in pizza.
A guy vengeance demon, way to subvert the paradigm, Deb!
Maybe male ones are called "retribution" demons. :)