by Web Warlock » Mon Feb 11, 2002 10:43 am
It'll be interesting to see what Willow has planned.
Warlock.
------------------
Web Warlock
web.warlock@attbi.com webwarlock@planetadnd.com
Author, the Netbooks of Witches and Warlocks
The Other Side: http://www.xtreme-gaming.com/theotherside/
Shadow Earth Games: http://www.rpghost.com/WebWarlock/
--
"I wish you would stop licking me and untie me!"
by Garner » Mon Feb 11, 2002 2:41 pm
Chapter 4 Comments
Bobo’s Mom,
I especially liked the scene with Spike and the girls at the start of the chapter. Very tender and well done. I also like the idea of Spike watching over Willow not because he likes her, but because he does Buffy. On the other hand, I think that Spike wouldn’t feel himself incapable of love. He was with Dru for quite some time and truly seemed to care for her. He seems to have sort of a romantic inclination. He is more likely to doubt someone like Buffy loving a monster like him. His later comments though seem spot on. Very good.
I have mixed feelings on the part with the doe. You wrote it well and I could see that outlook in the show. On the other hand animal sacrifice is a very old tradition and is not really a sign of evil magic at all. It was an important part of the process. The darker side might be the waste of the meat after the sacrifice is done. Usually nothing was left to waste. However, I can see Willow being haunted by the deed anyway. You definitely make her revulsion for herself clear. Though again, her intentions were pure, for the most part if tinged with selfishness, and I still wouldn’t call what she did dark.
I liked the werewolf attack quite a bit, good description and nice finish.
I am a bit surprised that Willow would think she and Spike had sex without rape being involved. I would think she would be more accusatory in the ‘What the Hell did you do to me?’ sort of line, at least initially. After that the interaction, in both times feels right. I also like the idea of Willow wanting to talk to the Goddess.
Overall good job and still moving along nicely.
Garner
[This message has been edited by WillTara (edited February 14, 2002).]
by Bobo's Mom » Fri Feb 15, 2002 6:58 pm
Chapter 5a
Moving into the night, past the slumbering homes of Sunnydale, Spike quickly found his bearings on the streets he had often roamed. Pocketing the list of spell ingredients Willow had dictated to him, he continued to move quickly into the city center. ‘This would have been much easier in the old days.’ Scanning the street of store fronts he looked for the old signs and symbols that might indicate a nest of demon activity.
In the old days it had been easy. The night crawlers would have jumped out of shadows, practically begging him to ask for the information he now sought. No longer. The hellmouth was closed for business. Sunnydale had become a sleepy little college town with no more and no less demon activity than would be expected.
“But every town has its dark side…” Spike observed as he caught sight of what he was looking for. To the casual observer, the painted scribbles on the alley wall would be mistaken to a gang symbol. To the undead, mystical, or demonic, the scribbles meant something much more sinister.
“Poker Game. Line of credit extended. BYOB.”
Spike smiled. He would gather information and get a take on the local action, accomplishing two, and maybe more, of his objectives before morning. With a spring in his step, Spike moved into the alley. ‘…and Red was never one to begrudge me a little fun while on a mission.’
_______
Tara opened her eyes against the daylight slowly, not ready to relinquish the warmth and comfort of Willow’s arms. Shifting slightly, she looked at the face that rested on the pillow they shared. Tara delighted in these moments when she caught Willow asleep and unaware. She would document the changes written there, naming each new configuration of lines with silly made up names, much like she use to with the stars when she was young. Not wanting to wake Willow, she moved her fingers carefully, finding one of her favorites, just under the ear lobe. ‘Cat Claws on Bathroom Tile,’ she thought as she brushed against the spot.
Tara had spent many mornings noting each new line. Lingering against Willow’s cheek she took note of “Lewd Girl’s Lacy Lovelies,’ the first lines she had detected years ago. Deeply inset, they signified a life filled with laughter. Lower still, at tight little bundle of lines just at Willow’s jaw, Tara paused and frowned. ‘Fat Lady Singing,’ named the night after Buffy’s final illness began. In this one face Tara had chronicled living constellations that reminded her of the life they shared together.
To Tara, Willow was vaster than the night sky and more articulate than any metaphor. Blinking her eyes against the blinding beauty that greeted her each morning Tara stilled her hand and voiced the words she had used to start twenty thousand mornings, “You are my everything.”
“But it’s sucha nice dream.” Mumbling, Willow shut her eyes tighter and shifted her face into the shared pillow. “Wanna go back to dreamin.”
Smiling indulgently, Tara lowered her head and whispered, “Tell me, and I might let you drift away the day.” Willow groaned and opened one eye.
“Everything has a price, darling,” she said sweetly. Tara moved off the bed and toward the bathroom. Using the tap, she poured a glass of water and picked up a vial of pills. Returning, she sat on the edge of the bed and placed the items on the night stand. Willow groaned again when she heard the familur rattle of the pill bottle.
“Tell me about this dream and I might even stay in bed with you.”
Willow’s eyes snapped open. “All day? Just for telling you my dream? I can handle that.” Twisting her shoulders to sit up, she accepted the pills from Tara. Grimacing, she quickly popped a pill into her mouth and swallowed. Tara cooed sympathetically as she handed Willow the water, knowing how much her love hated the taste of her pills.
“Yuck! Willow exclaimed before settling back against the head board. Tara reclined on the bed and moved closer. “So, in this dream of mine, I was a house. With a deck. And a yard. And you lived there but I couldn’t talk to you because I was busy being all housy.” As Willow spoke, Tara turned on her side and inched her hand slowly under the covers. “But I was able to watch you, which I liked, because I has able to see you from all sides, almost as if my eyes were the walls.”
Tara bumped her hip against Willow’s thigh and snickered, “You would like that!”
“Three hundred sixty fife degrees of Tara? I must be dreaming! But I was…” Willow haltingly stopped as she felt Tara’s hand begin the trace the hem of her night shirt.
“Yes you were. Now how did it end?”
Taking hold of the playful hand, Willow pressed it against her stomach. “You lived happily ever after inside of me.”
“I like that dream.”
“I do too.”
------------------
TARA: Willow and I always know how to find each other!
ANYA: With yoga?
****************
BUFFYBOT: That'll put marzipan in your pie plate, bingo!
[This message has been edited by Bobo's Mom (edited February 15, 2002).]
[This message has been edited by Bobo's Mom (edited February 16, 2002).]
by Web Warlock » Fri Feb 15, 2002 8:22 pm
Ok. I am really liking this story. I find the idea of Willow and Tara growing old together to be very appealing.
You are going to just tease us with little tidbits of knowledge aren't you? "Hellmouthed closed", "Buffy's final illness"? I want more! I am enjoying the little glimses into the future as well.
You are painting a very vivid picture of Willow and Tara, I think it is great. I don't mind the sexy scenes one bit!
Is Spike still a "chip head" or has decided to become good on his own? I am not much of a Spike redemptionist myself, but I am curious about your take on him. Neat he is working with the CoW.
Keep this up, I really want to see where this goes.
Warlock.
------------------
Web Warlock
web.warlock@attbi.com webwarlock@planetadnd.com
Author, the Netbooks of Witches and Warlocks
The Other Side: http://www.xtreme-gaming.com/theotherside/
Shadow Earth Games: http://www.rpghost.com/WebWarlock/
--
"I wish you would stop licking me and untie me!"
by Owl » Sat Feb 16, 2002 2:41 am
by nika » Sat Feb 16, 2002 8:07 am
------------------
"The word 'GULP!'comes to mind." Tara
by CaptMurdock » Sat Feb 16, 2002 8:33 am
quote:
In this one face Tara had chronicled living constellations that reminded her of the life they shared together.To Tara, Willow was vaster than the night sky and more articulate than any metaphor.
Superb.
Now, that dream of Willow's...foreshadowing?
Looking forward to the next installment!
------------------
"How's that cramp doing, Spike? Why dontcha put some ice on it?"
by Forrister » Sun Feb 17, 2002 2:52 pm
Poeta nascitur, non fit.
(The poet is born, not made.)
by Garner » Tue Feb 19, 2002 3:27 pm
Chapter 5a comments.
Short but sweet. I especially liked the “cat claws on bathroom tile.” Is Bobo or Picard the root of that one? Someone else said they thought your writing had improved, and I may have said that also earlier, but it definitely seems true here. The dialog seems smooth and sounds right.
I still like your use of Spike and the dropping of hints as to what has passed before without giving too much away. I am also glad that you made it clear we were in Sunnydale. Food for thought: what about Angel? He could still be alive and he was sort of close to Willow, as was Cordy. Maybe one or the other might figure in this? (especially Angel and the new Spike.) Whatever the case, keep it up,
Garner
by Bobo's Mom » Tue Feb 19, 2002 6:53 pm
I wanted to take a moment to thank everyone for all the feedback. Gently critical, or poetically supportive, the comments have made me want to continue and improve. Other than assignments in high school, this is the only fiction I’ve ever attempted. One of the reasons I placed this story so far outside the timeline was to give me room to grow as I got to know these characters in such a close way. I’m pleased that some expressions I’ve used ring true. The next challenge will be to write something closer to the canon of the show. Now specifically…
*Web Warlock - I’m so pleased you’ve picked up on the little comments I’ve placed throughout the story about the state of the future. Thanks for pointing this out. I was wondering if anyone enjoyed the details.
*Garner, the Bo wanted me to tell you that he is the inspiration for any cat metaphors that ever appear. Me? I give equal credit to both kitties. Also, no Angel in this fic as planned out. He might get a sentence somewhere to give everyone an idea of where I envision him in this universe, but nothing more. I just hit the half way point in this monster using just three characters.
I’m slaving away at the conclusion of chapter 5, which I hope to post some point tomorrow. (Blame skating and work for my lack of focus. Both have been tugging at my attention lately). If all goes well, I’ll have chapter 6 up at some point during the weekend.
Thanks again for reading – skating's on - gotta go!
BM
(OK, it's Thursday, and still no update. Five is getting there...two or three more segments to write, and then edit. So much to say, and so little time!)
------------------
TARA: Willow and I always know how to find each other!
ANYA: With yoga?
****************
BUFFYBOT: That'll put marzipan in your pie plate, bingo!
[This message has been edited by Bobo's Mom (edited February 21, 2002).]
by Bobo's Mom » Mon Feb 25, 2002 9:24 am
I have some time set aside later in the week to finish this chapter, and hopefully continue with the rest. The temptation is to go back and start editing what I’ve written thus far, but I’m resisting. I hope everyone enjoys the small update.
_______________________________
Chapter 5b
Spike had gathered the information needed within the first hour of play. There were two active and powerful witch’s covens outside of Sunnydale. There he would find most of the items Willow requested of him. Stuck for the day within the confines of the dank room he focused on the details of this mission he had undertaken and started to formulate a plan. He also worked on acquiring the means to act on the information he had easily gathered.
Under normal circumstances, he would have just contracted the Council of Watchers and asked for assistance. ‘But this is not a normal situation,’ he thought as he played thought the hand. Some of the ingredients of the spell when used in certain combination would raise suspicion among the members of the council. Willow’s past use of dark magicks had been well documented and his reformation was looked on a questionable by some factions with the Council. He knew, no matter how hard he worked for them, how much knowledge and experience he imparted to their Chosen Ones, he would never be fully trusted within the organization. He was a means to an end to them and didn’t fool himself into thinking otherwise.
Noticing the changing quality of light that seeped in through the corners of the blacked out window Spike took measure of the others around the table. ‘These blokes are clueless without the Hellmouth to feed off of.’ Here, gathered in the boiler room of a seedy bar, were the darkest that Sunnydale had to offer – a toothless vampire whose turning must have been a cruel joke played by her sire, an asexual green slug demon, a biker gargoyle and a misguided vengeance demon whose specialty was righting telemarketing wrongs. ‘Darkness incarnate’ he thought as he discarded and signaled for new cards.
In the old days, he would have snapped the necks of the other players, taken the gargoyle’s motorcycle, and continued with his quest. But demon carnage, even in a sleepy town like Sunnydale, would raise questions. Instead, he now used his wits to win the transportation he needed.
“Listen, ladies and gents,” Spike casually began, “The game’s almost over. Why don’t we make this last hand meaningful?”
“What do you have in mind?” the vengeance demon inquired.
“A man can only own so many kittens. Let’s say we make this last pot a little more interesting.”
________________
Tara smiled as her fingers moved nimbly, connecting the halves of Willow’s blouse. Brushing her fingers from one button to the next, she resisted the urge to undo what she had just done. Her smile continued as she looked away from her task, and into Willow’s eyes. “I know, don’t say it,’ she chuckled lightly, “But it was your idea to spend the day in bed when you knew we had stuff to do.”
Willow pretended to huff before replying, “Don’t seem to remember hearing any complaints from you?”
Tara kissed her in reply.
“You know, with such serious complaints, we might have I cancel out on everything. I mean, who am I to leave such serious observations unaddressed? And while we’re at it, why not open up the suggestion box too. I’m sure we’ll find some suggestions to complain about there…” She kissed Willow again. “Tara, are you trying to shut me up again?”
“No, dearest. But I am trying to distract you while I finish this.” Willow looked down in distress at her now buttoned shirt. Leaning her forehead into Willow’s, she continued, “As much as I wish we could spend the night in bed to cap this glorious day, you know you’ll never here the end of it if you don’t show up at Rusell’s.”
“Ah yes, the good doctor awaits,” Willow stepped back from Tara and reached for her cane resting against the night stand. “I wonder if she always schedules the hopeless cases for the end of office hours? Wouldn’t that be a sucky way to end each day?”
She stopped her movements when she noticed Tara glassy eyed and frozen in place beside the bed. “Damn it baby, did I say hopeless? I mean hopeful…” Willow’s arms slipped around Tara as she continued what she hoped were comforting babbles. “More hopeful than the Cape of Good Hope. Chuck full o’hopeful even…”
The words reseeded into silence as Willow tightened her embrace. She faced her fate with resolve. Questions that remained would be answered, shades of gray reclassified into light and dark. Then, it would be over. But if life had taught Willow one thing, it was that dieing was easy. The end would be faced. It was living, and living well, that presented challenges. Together, Willow and Tara had faced so much loss. In the few moments when Willow allowed herself sadness about her illness, it was not for herself, but for Tara. ‘Who’s going to hold her when I’m gone?’
------------------
TARA: Willow and I always know how to find each other!
ANYA: With yoga?
****************
BUFFYBOT: That'll put marzipan in your pie plate, bingo!
by Garner » Mon Feb 25, 2002 11:14 am
How nice of you to think of us on your Birthday, even if it was just a little piece.
I still like Spike as a watcher, and you do great things with him. I would like to see a bit of a flashback onto how that came about or when he first decided/realized it would be a good idea. Definitely a story in its own right.
As usual, nice with Willow and Tara. I definitely see Willow keeping the stiff upper lip.
The only down side is that there seemed to be a few more typos in the start than usual, probably due to rushing and being too busy, but you might recheck your first few paras. I know my beginnings are always the roughest as well.
Garner
by Dice » Mon Feb 25, 2002 4:35 pm
by bearskeeper » Mon Feb 25, 2002 5:14 pm
------------------
"Yes. And then I'm going to marry Bob Dole and raise penguins in Guam" - Buffy
"Who's gonna stake me?"
"I'll do it...What, you thought I was just gonna let that lie there?" Spike/Buffy
by LeatherQueen » Mon Feb 25, 2002 9:26 pm
I really like what you're doing here. It's very sweet and sentimental, and I can totally see this happening. It's very true to the characters.
Great stuff!
------------------
"Honey, I'm the original one-eyed chicklet in the kingdom of the blind." -Glory
by Bobo's Mom » Tue Mar 05, 2002 9:48 pm
Chapter 5c
Spike relished the speed of his newly acquired motor bike as he sped away from Sunnydale. He had returned to the house to write a quick note of apology to Willow and Tara, knowing only Tara would be surprised at his absence. He also used the quick stop to pick up some rune lore he had in his bag; one of the benefits of having a slayer called in Iceland. The ancient stones would be powerful battering tools at the witch’s covens. Powerful enough, he hoped, to deflect any questions about the nature of the items he hoped to gain by trade.
Racing down the open, well kept highway, he realized how much he missed the California night. ‘Never could drive like this in Iceland,’ he thought as he leaned into the bike’s frame. Narrow two lane roads and unpredictable weather were not good combinations for speed. But he could not dictate where the Watchers sent him and where the Slayers were called. After Buffy’s death, he was relieved to be called away from Sunnydale. Most of the time in those first years had been spent in England, locked within the Council’s library, chronicling the secrets of Buffy’s longevity.
Glancing into the side mirror, Spike noticed a car behind him on the lonely road. Revving the bike, he increased speed, slightly surprised that the lights did not fade as he sped up. “Well, well. Let’s see what old Spike dragged out into the country side.” Slowing the bike, he pulled to the roadside and turned. The car behind him maintained the set distance, and also stopped. “Bloody hell. Stupid Watchers!” Spike cursed into the wind.
At a glance, Spike knew the transformed Council could be mistaken for one of the numerous pan-national corporations that now ruled the world. Relaying on technology, the transformed organization walked a line of grey between the forces of good and evil. Too often, the Slayer was seen as a last resort to be deployed only when a “personal” touch was needed.
“We confused them all, didn’t we Pet?” Spike spoke to the night, hoping she could hear him. He knew he did not need to give voice to the depths of how much he missed Buffy. Together, they had beaten the odds more times than he could count and changed the way the Council did business. The incongruity of a Slayer living into her fifties, dieing a natural death, forced the Watchers to reassess an organization primed to train young and malleable girls. They were forced to grow, and become less medieval in their traditions and outlook.
And his job? He trained killers to avoid the kill. The Slayer had many Watchers, each practiced in a specific function. Formal titles aside, Spike knew how little the job he did had in common with what Giles did for Buffy. One of the many “innovations” the Council had implemented after studying Buffy’s methods was to expand the circle around each Slayer, segmenting the training and resources among many Watchers. To some degree, he supposed the new methods worked. All of the Slayers called since Buffy lived well into their twenties. Unfortunately, Spike knew that the improvement in training, the segmentation of responsibilities among many, was but a shadow of Buffy’s circle of friends.
Switching lanes, Spike let his thoughts center on the current Slayer. He liked this kid, and felt a certain kinship with her that he had not allowed with the previous teens he had trained. Spike also knew she held him in the same fond regard. He wanted more for her than a life of single minded demon fighting.
Checking the side view mirror, he noted the car that still followed at a discrete distance. Stifling the unease he felt, Spike focused on the road. ‘Willow’s counting on me,’ he thought as he increased speed, ‘and I’m not going to fail her.’
------------------
TARA: Willow and I always know how to find each other!
ANYA: With yoga?
****************
BUFFYBOT: That'll put marzipan in your pie plate, bingo!
by Garner » Wed Mar 06, 2002 1:38 pm
by Tiggrscorpio » Wed Mar 06, 2002 6:15 pm
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She's my everything!
by Web Warlock » Wed Mar 06, 2002 8:11 pm
Myself, I am not a Spike redemptionist, he was neutered, not cured. But you are making in a good case in his behalf. I am sure that the Council would use and abuse him anyway they could. I wondering what his angle is.
Really wanting to find out what Willow's got planned.
Warlock
------------------
Web Warlock
web.warlock@attbi.com webwarlock@planetadnd.com
Author, the Netbooks of Witches and Warlocks
The Other Side: http://www.xtreme-gaming.com/theotherside/
Shadow Earth Games: http://www.rpghost.com/WebWarlock/
The FanCC: http://www.enworld.org/fancc/
--
"I am invincible, I have no fears.
I am benevolent, I am the King of Beers!"
by Jessie » Thu Mar 07, 2002 11:59 am
I really enjoy the portrayal of W/T as older women. And it's nice to know that someone else believes that making love isn't just for the young 'uns.
JD
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"And how long have you known your girlfriend's Tinkerbell?"
by Bobo's Mom » Sat Mar 09, 2002 3:54 am
Thank you for the feedback. I know where this story is going, but everyone’s insights and comments help me to fill in some of the routes I’m using to get there. Also, it’s nice to know that I’m being read – the comments feed my will to write, and make me want to continue on through what is turning out to be a very dark, reflective exercise.
Chapter 6a: A matter of time
The three women sat around the desk discussing the latest battery of test results. Rusell spelled out the medical definitions for Willow and Tara, doing her best to humanize the often harsh clinical terms. Willow’s tumor had not reacted to the course of oral chemotherapy she had taken. Instead, the growth continued unabated, and would soon affect her cognitive abilities. Almost immediately, the growth would strip away from Willow more than the ability to read. She would lose the power of speech, hearing, and memory. If the tumor didn’t kill her first, she would lose everything that made her uniquely herself, becoming an aging, voiceless, thoughtless shell.
Throughout her career in medicine, Rusell had seen too many couples struggle with priorities when faced with eminent demise. Patients often longed for the end the nearer it came. Care givers often could not relinquish the desire to extend the life of their loved ones. Conversely, patients sometimes panicked at the thoughts of missed opportunities and questions unanswered while caregivers looked forward to being free from the constant specter of death. The dichotomy always ended in the same way. Someone died. Someone went on living.
As Rusell summarized the reports from the Oncologist and Radiologist she regarded the women seated across from her. Treating Willow Rosenberg over the years had given the doctor insight into the woman’s personality. Rusell suspected that Willow would deal with the end with the same grace and humor she had should when faced with lesser challenges. ‘She’ll come to the conclusions she needs to and then give up the ghost,’ Rusell thought as she began to vocalize the certainty of the tumor worsening.
Much of the medical explanations that filled the proceeding hour were as much for Ms Mcclay as for her patient. There was little Rusell could do to extend Ms. Rosenberg’s life. But she could start to lay the ground for the difficult days to come. Tara Mcclay had always struck Rusell as a fiercely loving, fiercely loyal partner. She knew the coming days would be hard on the woman. Often, small health concerns became major difficulties after the loss of a life partner. Looking at the overweight woman who had many of the symptoms of hypertension Rusell wondered would long she would make it in the world without Ms. Rosenburg to focus on.
Refocusing on Willow, Rusell worked to keep her voice calm, “The oral chemo’s taken a toll, hasn’t it?” Willow grunted a reply that downplayed how much she hated her medication. “We should focus on steroid combinations that might make these next days more comfortable.” The time for cures was over. As a doctor, Rusell could do nothing to change the fact that Willow Rosenberg was dieing. From this moment on, she would center on her patient’s wishes, making her as comfortable as medically possible.
“In summation, the treatment hasn’t worked as well as we had hoped,” the doctor concluded as she closed the file on her desk, “and we need to start thinking about quality of life verses quantity.” Rusell’s well versed delivery could not stifle the pity she felt for the women seated across from her. These situations were never easy.
“I’m afraid it’s simply a matter time.”
---------------------------------
“Not a bad hall for a bunch of old rocks.” Shifting the bag across his shoulders, Spike climbed onto the bike and started the engine. The Sisterhood of Freyja had been most helpful in giving Spike the resources he sought. Their excitement at seeing the rune lore and hex stones deflected any questions that might have been raised by the nature of the items he wished to acquire or what they would be used for. He would need very little from the second coven.
Revving the bike, Spike drove back toward the main road. ‘At this rate, I’ll be back in Sunnydale before the late news,’ he thought as he increased his speed. Stealth had suddenly factored into his plan. If his stalkers followed procedure, the witches he had just bartered with were being questioned. He was being followed, and his instincts told him that the Council of Watchers would be much more interested in why he roamed the night searching for tools of magic than the witches had been.
-----------------------------
‘…a matter of time.’ Tara felt the blood drain from her fingers as she tightened her grip on the steering wheel of the car. She and Willow had barely spoken since exiting the doctor’s office, each lost in thoughts of what the doctor said. Rusell’s prognosis forced Tara to think in terms of weeks and days instead of years and months. ‘For all I know, this could be the last time I drive with her down this road,’ Tara thought darkly as she blinked to clear her vision.
Time had been a friend to her and Willow throughout the years; a twin gift that enhanced and reflected the love between them. Looking back, Tara could state with honesty that each moment with Willow was filled with more love than she thought was possible. Each year shared, each new experience, didn’t increase what she felt. She had always loved Willow with all her heart, and always would. The love she felt existed outside the qualifier of time. Every moment shared existed in perfect symmetry; two hearts beating as one, within the moment of the heartbeat, and outside of it in the same instance. Time was secondary to the workings of Tara’s heart.
‘…a matter of time.’ The absurdity of Rusell’s statement played through Tara’s mind again and again, tempering her thoughts as she drove. She had always loved Willow, would always love her. ‘How could such a love have an ending?’ she questioned as the miles ticked by.
------------------
TARA: Willow and I always know how to find each other!
ANYA: With yoga?
****************
BUFFYBOT: That'll put marzipan in your pie plate, bingo!
[This message has been edited by Bobo's Mom (edited March 09, 2002).]
by nika » Sat Mar 09, 2002 6:30 am
------------------
"The word 'GULP!'comes to mind." Tara
by Bobo's Mom » Sat Mar 09, 2002 9:29 am
Thanks for the feed back.
BM
------------------
TARA: Willow and I always know how to find each other!
ANYA: With yoga?
****************
BUFFYBOT: That'll put marzipan in your pie plate, bingo!
by Owl » Sat Mar 09, 2002 9:39 am
nika-you do realize this makes you Officially Responsible for aquiring those tissues. maybe a mitten with stock in kleenex could help.[uc]
by Pixie » Sat Mar 09, 2002 9:42 am
Nika, I did pass on your request for tissues to the Kitten Accessories Emporium home office. Here, you can use the corner of my robe for now. *hugs Nika* Hey, don't spill your beer on me!
by Tiggrscorpio » Sat Mar 09, 2002 12:25 pm
------------------
She's my everything!
by Forrister » Sun Mar 10, 2002 3:06 pm
Please - don't you give up either. I know this story is a hard one to write - you're far braver than I. But I really think its a tale worth telling, and I look forward to its continuance.
Non semper erit aestas.
(It will not always be summer [be prepared for hard times])
by Bobo's Mom » Sun Mar 10, 2002 6:44 pm
Owl: I have my tissues. I’ve been using them too. A red nose looks fantastic with my red hair!
Pixie: Thanks for reading the beginning with a critical eye. I promise that some of the tense problems will be corrected when I submit the finished story to some W/T archive. Part of the thrill of writing has been finishing a part, and running to the web to post it. I haven’t engaged the uses of a beta because with just dark material I need all the thrills I can get!
Tiggrscorpio: You’ve been with this thing since I started posting. Thanks for your patience thus far. The comments have encouraged me to continue.
Forester: A very special thanks. This story is special to me for many reasons. I began writing as a tool to work through some issues in my personal and professional life. Those issues continue, but I find the story pulling me away from my original intentions. In light of sadness, aging and illness, when the realities of death stare you in the face, I want to write a story where love still wins the day and levels the playing field. Did that make any sense?
Anyway, thank you all.
Danielle
------------------
TARA: Willow and I always know how to find each other!
ANYA: With yoga?
****************
BUFFYBOT: That'll put marzipan in your pie plate, bingo!
by Dice » Sun Mar 10, 2002 7:12 pm
by DaRebel » Sun Mar 10, 2002 9:58 pm
------------------
No, no potions. It's not magic, it's chemistry. You can tell by how damn slow it is! Willow "Doublemeat Palace"
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