You know...I don't know. Obviously, I thought so, but, possibly I got swept away by my own little rhetorical flourish, huh? At least I stopped myself from romanticizing the calluses on her hands or something...like some secretary with a gun. If I ever write about it in a story, I promise I'll look it up...it might screw my metaphor though, and that makes me sad.

For class things, I always go back to the medieval forms. My father was a skilled craftsman (upholsterer), so I figured I was guildsman class, which is fairly urban middleclass/merchant. The farmers I grew up with would have been peasant class, but the thing with the middle ages was that some peasants had very comfortable lives. It's fairly recent that I've realized that I have definite class assumptions--beyond feeling that there is no one on this planet who is inherently better than I. A friend of ours commented in passing that Hubby married above his class, and he agreed. I suppose it can be boiled down to the fact that I was expected to go to college and he was expected to follow his father into the military and god help him if he became an officer. Really. He was offered officer training, and he turned it down because he knew it would upset his parents.

Officer vs. enlisted, that's a hard concept for non-military to try and get your mind around.

Officer vs. enlisted, that's a hard concept for non-military to try and get your mind around.

My mom had two brothers. One became an officer in the US Navy. The other became a sergeant in the Marines. Family reunions were fun.

Not sure if this should go in here or FF, but I'm taking a shot and putting it here

I want to not do work badly enough that I've started coming up with a list of key events, etc for seasons 4-7 of Buffy, with the idea of, someday, writing alterna-episodes, following that basic outline, but with fewer mis-steps (this from an idea over in Buffy (I think). If people are interested in this actually happening, I would be more than willing to spear-head)

Presumptuous as Hell, especially from someone with no published fic, but it'll probably never get done, anyway.

But if people are bored, I have an initial list of things that must stay the same, which I would love comments on, either here on by email.

[link]

Part One of New, As-of-yet untitled Buffy fic.

“It’s just after this thick of trees,” said Xander, as Buffy hacked away at the vines with a machete. Africa had been good to him—he was tanned and muscular, his eye patch now seeming as natural on his face as the stubble he was also sporting.

“And how can you tell this thick of trees from every other thick of trees we’ve hacked through today,” said Buffy, irritated. “And, come to think of it, Xander Francis Burton, why the Hell am I the one doing all the chopping?”

“Hello. Super-strength,” said Xander, chuckling. Willow said nothing, just rolled her eyes. You’d think they’d not have been separated for the past year.

“I mean, you’re the king of the jungle here, pal, not me,” snipped Buffy, as she yanked a troublesome vine that was blocking their path. “I should be back in Italy. With Dawn. Doing… Slayer things in Italy.”

“Oh, is that what they’re calling it these days,” said Willow, giggling, as both Xander and Buffy stared at her in disbelief.

“What, I can’t crack with the jokes, too?”

“I’m holding a machete, y’know?” said Buffy, her lips pursed in faux seriousness.

“Look, guys,” said Xander. “I wouldn’t have dragged you down to the deepest, darkest heart of Africa if it wasn’t important, and I wouldn’t have left the rookies out if I didn’t think it was big-guns-only territory. Buff, you and Giles asked me to let you know if I find anything important…”

Xander rested his palm on Buffy’s shoulder, signaling her to stop. He pointed deep into the jungle mist.

“And, hey. Look. I did.”

There, rising out of the jungle, was a pyramid, not dissimilar to the ones in Egypt, and just as big. The three of them stared at it, awestruck.

“Why did no one ever tell me there were pyramids that big in the Congo?” asked Buffy, stunned. “I’m pretty sure I was awake that day in school.”

“There aren’t any,” said Willow. “I mean, there’s not supposed to be. Not that big.”

“Uh-huh,” said Xander. “There’s a major mojo shielding this thing. It’s not really cracked.” Xander pulled a black diamond from his pocket. “This little baby’s letting us see, even though it’s blinvisible to the rest of the world.”

“Xander,” said Willow, cautiously, “What, exactly, is in there.”

“That, my dear Watson, is the Temple of Ker-bee, the last known resting place of the Julian Moonstone.”

Willow stopped dead in her tracks. Buffy looked from Xander to Willow and back again.

“The what?”

“It’s a source of mystical energy,” said Willow. “It absorbs the moon’s power, allows transportation anywhere that sees the moon’s face. Absorb the power of….”

“…Nightwalkers,” finished Xander. “We’ve been reading the same books. This thing can allow us to track vampires anywhere, protect buildings from them, rob them of their powers.”

“Xander,” said Buffy, “this is incredible.”

“Yeah, but there’s probably traps, mystical guards and serious, pulse-pounding violence ahead. You know. Women’s work.”

Buffy and Willow both shot him withering glances, and pushed forward. Xander was right, of course. No sooner had they entered the pyramid then they were set upon by three horrendous demons with black scales, wielding flaming swords. Willow and Xander fell back as Buffy dispatched two with her machete, then felled another another with a kick to the stomach, beheading it as it fell.

“That wasn’t so bad,” said Buffy, until she saw the frightened looks on her friends’ faces. Spinning, she watched as an even larger demon began to draw its sword down on her. Rapidly she fell so the blade missed her. Suddenly, a bolt of energy erupted from Willow’s fingertips, charring the monster.

“You know,” said Xander, “the sad part is, I’ve missed this.

“I could be in Rome, right now,” mumbled Buffy, wiping the blood off her machete. “These things aren’t built for this sort of thing.”

“Sorry, Buff,” said Xander, who began dusting off the runes on the side of a wall. “If the forces of evil were a nice Chiante, we’d be styling, but all we got is…” A secret door slid open. “…this.”

The three of them entered, cautiously, into a huge, obsidian chamber with a jet-black alter in the middle of it. The walls were adorned with torches, but there wer eno decorations, no symbols etched into the stone. Everything was smooth, and undisturbed.

“There’s no dust,” said Buffy.

“Huh,” said Xander.

“Look at it,” said Buffy. “This thing’s been hidden for, what, a few thousand years? And there’s no dust anywhere.”

“You’re right,” said Willow, her hand now glowing with a blue flame. “Think the maid stops by on Thursdays?”

“Searching for warding spells?” asked Xander.

“Uh-huh,” said Willow, “but it’s no good. This place reeks of magic. It’s everywhere.”

Xander walked slowly to the alter, where a black medallion rested on the smooth, polished stone.

“This the thing?” asked Buffy, now sounding edgy.

“I think so,” said Xander, his hand hovering above it. When Willow offered no objections, he snatched it up into his hand.

Suddenly, there was a bright flash of light, and a feeling of flying, then darkness.

The three awoke in a metal room with glass windows. The room was lit by fluorescent lights. Computer equipment was everywhere.

“Guys,” said Xander, “I think we’re out of Africa.”

The two women looked at him, and then looked out the window. In the sky above them, where the moon should be, was a giant blue orb with swirling white clouds.

“That’s… the Earth,” said Buffy. “Somebody put the Earth in the sky.”

“No,” said a freezing cold voice. “You’re on the moon.”

They all turned, to see a tall, masked man in what looked like a dark cloak, standing just beyond the shadows. His eyes were just white slits.

He stepped into the light, revealing a tall, muscular man wearing a cowl and what turned out to be a cape. The three stared at the man, as incredulity creaped across their faces.

“Ok,” s

Oops. Didn't realize it cut off..

(Cont.)

He stepped into the light, revealing a tall, muscular man wearing a cowl and what turned out to be a cape. The three stared at the man, as incredulity creaped across their faces.

“Ok,” said Buffy. “I give. Why is this dude dressed up like Batman?”

Very nice, Victor.

“What, I can’t crack with the jokes, too?”

Is this a phrase from the show? It sounds familiar, or did you mean make with the jokes?

but there wer eno decorations,

creaped across

and two typos

Thanks, Lee. I'm hoping the phrase is familiar because it's the just-off odd phrasing of Willow speak. In any case, it's intentional.

The typos? Not so much.

I'm hoping the phrase is familiar because it's the just-off odd phrasing of Willow speak.

I think so.

but only once.