See how I'm not punching him? I think I've grown.

Mal ,'Shindig'


Buffista Fic: It Could Be Plot Bunnies  

Where the Buffistas let their fanfic creative juices flow. May contain erotica.


deborah grabien - Oct 10, 2003 8:18:27 am PDT #7049 of 10001
It really doesn't matter. It's just an opinion. Don't worry about it. Not worth the hassle.

Then the demon touches her power center and Bob's your uncle."

Munch says "That sounds incredibly hot."

Goddamnit, erika, I just hurt myself, swallowing down the wrong pipe.

Evil woman.


erikaj - Oct 10, 2003 8:28:42 am PDT #7050 of 10001
Always Anti-fascist!

I know. Hopeless isn't it. I may need a program or something.


Connie Neil - Oct 10, 2003 5:03:58 pm PDT #7051 of 10001
brillig

then you can defile and corrupt him, I promise

Erika is so NICE. And, please, make him as heroic as you please. Heroes who suffer are very nice.

Oh, and for those who care, I put that piece with Spike and Dru and the moon landing up on Fanfic, Shriftweb, and my website. It's called Nothing New Under The Sun

t she says, trolling for hits on her counters


erikaj - Oct 11, 2003 8:08:19 am PDT #7052 of 10001
Always Anti-fascist!

"Heroes who suffer are very nice." This is true. Although I've only discovered this through Bayliss-oost, I have to say. He works better pained.I figure Xander's messed-up background is going to be an asset, somehow, much like for the detectives.


erikaj - Oct 11, 2003 6:15:17 pm PDT #7053 of 10001
Always Anti-fascist!

Tim Bayliss felt sure things were out of hand at the Bronze.Too many bodies,(many of whom were married to other, absent, bodies. They should be ashamed. Tim was, just watching. But he couldn't stop watching.) It was like a car accident with breasts. Or what happened at his parents' cocktail parties.

Once when Tim was nine, he caught Mrs. Green and Mr. Randall, the neighbors on opposite sides of the Bayliss', in the closet together. Really caught them, with their hands all over each other. He tried to tell his mother, but she'd said he'd misunderstood, that they were just being affectionate, and what were you doing with the closet open anyway, Timothy? End of conversation. He was always Timothy when he was in trouble.My mother is such a liar, he thought, not for the first time. And not only about stuff like that. She told me a big white smile and a firm handshake would impress people, but she didn't know what it was like...everybody having fun and being in on something, and you are too shy to say anything, having to practice what you do say in the bathroom mirror.Under your breath so your brothers and sisters can't hear and laugh. Or your father, who might...he still can't think about that. But other people called it discipline so sometimes Tim did, too,
Except with his cousins. They were brave, so they made him brave. Like the people at work now.

"Old man still riding your ass, Timmy?" they'd say.

"Only when I'm awake," he'd say, trying to match their tough tone.

"I don't get it, T.J. You don't even do anything. Not girls, not drinking.You even do your homework, for Chrissake,"

"I'm sure I do plenty," Tim said. "You don't see everything."

"I'd still like to go ten rounds with him."

" Don't say that. You could get in trouble."

"God, Timmy, don't shit a brick. It's only us here."

Yeah, Bayliss, he reminds himself, don't shit a brick. He takes a glass of the punch, even after that weird little Snyder guy complains cause somebody spiked it.He makes a point not to look at the Snyder guy, if he's learned anything in school, it's that vibes are contagious and that you try to avoid geek vibes.He senses how everybody avoids Snyder, and knows if he took his side he'd get some of the same. And there's something there Tim himself doesn't quite like.But his conscience nags him enough that he shrugs and gives the principal a look that says "it's nothing personal."

It's really getting loud in here. Tim likes it better when it's quiet. -more-


erikaj - Oct 11, 2003 7:01:33 pm PDT #7054 of 10001
Always Anti-fascist!

A familiar voice says "You suck! Get off the stage!" as the doctors and accountants swing into "Louie, Louie" for the third time. Badly. That Munch is such a ballsy guy...just says what he thinks when he thinks it. Tim could never do that.He looks at the gyrating couples. He could never do that either. He'd feel stupid.Frank had said they'd be here only an hour but he is too busy laughing and being amusing to notice the time.The intense genius, Frank Pembleton, laughing. Something Tim never gets to see. I knew it, he thinks, it is all my fault.He fishes in his pocket and brings out one of his candy bars, which is soft from the heat in here. Chocolate always feels good, he thinks. Only his mother's relentless lectures on manners stop him from licking melted chocolate off his fingers.A little redhead comes up to him. She's cute. Tim blushes, and looks at the floor.
"Are you Tim? Cause I've been looking for you,"
" You must have me confused with somebody else," he said.
"Not unless there's another detective that looks lost with big brown eyes. That sounds like you. This place is kinda intimidating, huh? I used to feel that way but my friends and I are in here all the time. And my boyfriend's a Dingo. I'm with the band. I love it when I get to say that."
"If you have a boyfriend, what do you want with me? Oh, God, I'm sorry...I can't believe I said that. I thought this was a prank or something...forgive me."

"No big. It's flattering, really. And you look so much like...somebody I had such a big crush on...I don't get that much attention from guys."
"Me either...from girls, I mean. I look like Xander, right? Does it disappoint you to see how Xander ends up? Because I was Xander. Without all the jokes.He's pretty funny." He takes out the last candy bar. "Want half?"
"Trust me," Willow says. "You don't want any more of that."
"Yes," Tim says, "I do. I want it very much. Everybody tells me what I want and don't want. My parents, my boss, Frank...other people. And you, Pippi, a complete fucking stranger? You don't get a vote. OK? I'm sure there's a gold star with your name on it somewhere."
"OK! But I think you should know...you're not yourself. And my name's not Pippi!"
"I'm sorry," he said. "What is your name?" He felt bad, hearing her voice shake.
"Willow Rosenburg, And that chocolate's tainted."
"That makes two of us," Tim says.


Nicole - Oct 11, 2003 7:08:39 pm PDT #7055 of 10001
I'm getting the pig!

And you, Pippi, a complete fucking stranger? You don't get a vote. OK? I'm sure there's a gold star with your name on it somewhere."
Love Love Love this.

"Willow Rosenburg, And that chocolate's tainted." "That makes two of us," Tim says.
And this. Especially this!


erikaj - Oct 11, 2003 7:14:43 pm PDT #7056 of 10001
Always Anti-fascist!

Thanks.I'm glad to hear it...Tim's funny that way...he'll go along being Mr. Nice Guy for the longest time...then some hostile will come in from somewhere and even he won't see it coming. And Willow, whom I love, but who was kind of an apple-polisher in her teen years, sure as hell won't either.


deborah grabien - Oct 11, 2003 8:55:23 pm PDT #7057 of 10001
It really doesn't matter. It's just an opinion. Don't worry about it. Not worth the hassle.

Oh, man.

erika, this keeps getting more - I don't know. Just, so damned readable.


Cindy - Oct 12, 2003 3:47:22 am PDT #7058 of 10001
Nobody

I posted a challenge in my lj. (Go. Play!)

Here's my own response to it. I could use a beta. It is very unbeta-d. I have to get ready for church and am already behind. Quickly, the premise is to take an episode you love, eliminate the major plot point, but still have at least one of the major results of that plot point. Please play.

...

Band Candy Is Dandy, But Liquor . . .

(started 7:30 am, finished at 8:30)

Hoooo boy! When Buffy walked in the house, she knew she was busted. She looked at me, then at Mr. Giles, then at me again. I think she died a little, inside. I'm ashamed that I took a little perverse delight in her discomfort. Dammit! I don't know how I'm going to get through to this girl. After years of lies, defiance, the big "coming out" as slayer, the running away this past summer, the returning with an attitude, now she's back to sneaking around? I don't buy for a minute that she just needed some control over her own life decisions. Well, that's not exactly true. I do buy it to an extent, but she's up to something. She wasn't just sneaking around tonight for nothing. I might have been born at night, but it wasn't last night. Had she just been busting loose, Willow would have been in on the lie, and probably out with her, instead of in the lied-to-camp, with us old fogies. Something is going on, and I don't know how to make her tell me what that is.

When Mr. Giles sent her to her room, I wanted to cheer. Why wasn't Hank more like that? I was always bad cop, to his good, too-many-shoes-buying cop. There's something appealing about Mr. Giles, aside from his refusal to be cowed by Buffy. The accent doesn't hurt. It almost turned a bit Cockney—or maybe not Cockney, but it did change—when he told Buffy not to, "freak out." Heh. Hmmmm. He is rather easy on the eyes. Where Hank was pretty, Mr. Giles is manly. I loved Hank's looks when we first met, but I out-grew them, or maybe he never outgrew them.

"Mrs. Summers?"

"Hmmmm? Sorry, Mr. Giles. I was just thinking about you—how . . . how well you handled Buffy, just then."

"Please, call me Rupert. Given Buffy's behavior as of late, I suspect we will find ourselves conspiring, quite often. My co-conspirators always use my given name . . . unless, it seems, they're children, and then apparently, they use my last name."

Is he flirting with me? I think he's flirting with me. Oh Joyce, you're so lonely, you're looking for flirtation from the first striking librarian to cross your path. Get a hold of yourself. "Well, if I'm to call you by your first name—Rupert, is it—then you must call me Joyce."

"Yes, I'm Rupert, and done. Joyce it is. Joyce is rather lovely."

So are you, Rupert, and growing more so by the minute. I must stop this. I'm making myself blush. I hope he doesn't notice. I wonder if he'll notice. "Why, thank you. As is Ru . . ."

"Oh please. 'Rupert' is a horrible name. Hard on the ears."

"Not at all, particularly when said with that . . . with a British accent. It's a form of 'Robert,' isn't it?"

"Yes. Yes it is. My grandmother's father was 'Rupert.' I'm named for him."

"I wish I'd given Buffy a different name."

"Really? Is there any significance to it?"

"Well, I liked 'Anne.' That's her middle name, but Hank and I both thought maybe it was too plain. She was a teeny little thing, so feminine, right from birth, and so pretty. 'Buffy' felt right, then. Later, I regretted it, but I never told Buffy, because . . . well, how does a mother tell her own child—the child she named—that she doesn't like her name?"

"I am ashamed to admit I had wondered if you'd nicked it from that old television show . . ."

"Family Affair? If you're ashamed to admit you wondered about it, imagine how ashamed I am to admit it's true." Oh my, his laugh! I am in trouble. On other occasions, he's always seemed a little uptight. I guess the other times we've me, "uptight" has been called for. Tonight, he is sort of smooth, like a good, single malt Scotch. "Can I get you a drink, Mr.—Rupert?"

"It's a bit late for tea."

"I was thinking Scotch."

"Oh, well then, yes, please. And at least it's not Ripper."

"Pardon?"

"Ripper was my nickname, during my misspent youth."

"That's charming."

"Oh, no. It's affected. I told people I was called Ripper, when it was really wishful thinking. I suppose it's an example of telling a lie often enough, that it becomes the truth."

"Why Ripper?" Buffy's door slammed shut. I hope she didn't hear me talking about her name, but I suppose I have bigger problems with her, than that.

"Joyce, what do you think is going on with Buffy?"

"I don't know, but she is driving me crazy. I just want to protect her."

"All parents want that."

"Yeah, but at least most parents know what to protect their children from."

"Yes. Quite. You and I have to be especially careful. Shall we go up and talk to her?"

"Usually, when she's like this, I leave her alone . . . You know what? That strategy has failed me, hasn't it? I mean, if it took me this long to figure out she was a slayer . . ."

"Joyce, I am afraid I am to blame for Buffy's secrecy. There were times that Buffy wanted to tell you, and I forbid it."

"And does she usually listen to you when you're forbidding things, Rupert?"

"Well, as a rule, no but . . ."

"Exactly. Let's go talk to her."

(cont'd)