A Due South flashfiction story of mine is up: "The Fellowship Goes South"

Threeing on the loving-the-story, Cindy, but the stuttering only works in spoken dialogue. She wouldn't stutter in her own thoughts, surely?

I was trying it as if she was telling it to someone, hence the stuttering. Thing is, nobody has revealed to me who she's telling it to yet, so I may go back and change it. I tried to make Xander's narration conversational as well, for that as of yet undefined audience.

I either have to come up with a plan, or change it, I guess.

Cindy, in re stuttering - I stutter when I actually speak, but not when I'm thinking (or singing). So Tara probably wouldn't stutter when thinking to herself, or imagining conversations with someone.

Deb, the Darla drabble and the others were lovely--but you have such a gift for Darla, and few others do.

Cindy, I agree about the stutter, but otherwise you've captured Tara, perceptions, hesitations, reservations and wholeheartedness. You made me miss her.

I love the drabbles. I don't think I can do one though I did get sucked into the coworkers one from last week.I can't say much in 100 words, apparently. Deb, "Someone to Watch over Me" is my favorite, though I thought they were all pretty....in a dark sort of way.

Thankee, ma'am. My own personal fave of those three was the post-war Paris with Spike and Dru dancing around a dead girl while listening to her Edith Piaf records. "I Have No Regrets". Right. Little did Spike know...

That was good, too. I've tried to write Dru before and I can't do it...I'm not quite the woman of 1000 voices.

I can't do Dru for more than a few lines of dialogue, but that one was a vignette, and her voice? Not needed.

I have a tendency to make Buffy a bit too decisive when I write her - her uberslayertude comes out for some reason. Spike I can do, GIles I can do forever.

Must have a shot at Wesley, someday, but Plei gives the Best. Wes. Ever.

Re-vision of Kay meets Ripper. When they got out of the women's room a man was waiting...a man so attractive that Kay watched him, slouched against the fence and thought "Lucky fence."
"Be cool, for Chrissake," she said, under her breath.

Joyce said "Ripper, this is Kay. We bonded in the bathroom."

"Joyce, luv, I like the sound of that." he said with a glint in his eye.

"Not bondage...bonding. Don't you think of anything but sex?"
For a minute, Kay thinks "This is not a problem for me," so strongly she thinks she must have said it. Or he could read it in her eyes. She wants to die. But it gets worse...she fucking giggles. She, who has heard and responded to the worst filth perps can spew is fucking giggling. And she kind of likes it, except it makes her stupid. And feel like her breasts are too small. "Oh, hi," she says, and feels like a boring dork.

"Kay's a cop," Joyce says.
"Awfully pretty for a fascist." he says and lights a cigarette.

She knows they would be great together, that somebody as hung-up as Joyce probably only does basic vanilla stuff since she can't say the words. But instead she says "Those things will kill you," and her voice shakes.
" You have to die of something. I'll take the risk. Speaking of..."

"Yes?" Maybe she should have made him work harder for it. Did this make her a slut? That's what they would say in the old neighborhood, her stealing a friend's guy out in the open like this. That's why she can't even look at Robin Felton...it makes her too real. "Do you have any handcuffs in that lot there?" he asked, indicating her purse.

"Yeah. Why?"

"Me and Joyce might want to borrow them. For a lark, you know?"

"You and Joyce. Um, I don't know. If anything happens, I've got to pay for those...the city charges us."
"Bastards!" Even his swearing was sexy. Bahstards.

"Tell me about it."

"You know," he said, coming in closer. "I'd consider it a great personal favor." He touches her hand and she feels a little thrill. "A favor from a close, personal friend." And he kisses her hand, like a guy in a movie.
"I'd like to be your...friend. But I need them back."

And she kind of likes it, except it makes her stupid. And feel like her breasts are too small.

Oh, DAMN, erika.