The Kitten, the Witches and the Bad Wardrobe - Willow & Tara Forever

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 Post subject: Re: Part Three Replies
PostPosted: Thu Apr 21, 2005 9:04 am 
Woo hey DW!.. just got caught up with ur new one here.. heh i love it... the language is making me giggle... So Willow has to seal and distroy her Uncle's book, then has to play match maker... heh and falls for the girl... i love it...



-reds:willow



Meine Banane tanzt für Rußflocke :banana

Smutbunny Anthem: *sung to tune from Goldfinger* Smutbunnies...they'er the bunnies, the bunnies that love the smut...and Willow's butt. They surf for smut fiction...always lookin' for the next naked sweaty fix...of Tara's tits.- Written By Cameron(tarawhipped) For Us Smut Bunnies



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 Post subject: Re: Part Three Replies
PostPosted: Thu Apr 21, 2005 11:58 am 
I am with the camp that is very greatful that I am reading this in my own room because the guffawing is occuring, which would be quite embarrasing in a public place. This scene was particularly joyful.



Connor really is a blighter, twice in just a short bit. First interupting the book scheme and embarassing the poor girl in front of Tara. And we'll not even mention the shoe polish!



Quote:
I’d spent countless hours trying my best to re-educate the organ to the proper ways of beating; my engagement to Daniel Osbourne was sort of the final round of exams, don’t you know?


I was curious about whether or not we'd have to deal with Willow dealing with her sexuality. But apparently not an issue with her because well...press forward!



Quote:
If this girl proved any more adorable, I feared I would have to chain myself to my room out of concern of making a greater fool of myself than I already was.


And we can't forget that line too. Mainly because I can see Willow continuously making a fool out of herself. But we all know that Tara will just find it adorable. And I agree with you, Willow won't be able to get into any trouble because she is just too adorable.



-wiccanbotanist

I like having low self-esteem, makes me feel special - Jane Lane (from Daria)

Sugas mea papilium (Suck my butterfly) - A Woman in Uniform by umgaynow

I used to be indecisive, but now I'm not so sure.

Edited by: wiccanbotanist at: 4/21/05 12:02 pm


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 Post subject: Re: Part Three Replies
PostPosted: Thu Apr 21, 2005 1:05 pm 
Yes, there was more guffawing on the train...just wasn't as crowded this morning. :p



Again, a lot of fun to be had here, DW...good times.



I was hoping for more updates during the day so that I could read on the train home...but I'll just wait until I get home tonight and hope to find more.



Now that Tara's here, things should get really interesting. ;)



Carleen :wave




‘Well hello you big old monster you, I fart in your general direction!’ --Willow WtVS: Episode One: Hellmouth High



"I support your lifestyle choice. You go gay girl." -- Anya A Hot and Heavy Halloween



"Please feel free to enjoy your lesbianism." -- Anya Art Appreciation



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 Post subject: Re: Part Four Replies
PostPosted: Thu Apr 21, 2005 4:08 pm 
Weeee! Look at all the replies! :bounce



Ok…well, I’d better do my responses and then post the next update…



Thebardgirl – Yay!! Another Jeeves fan!! :D Ah yes, you are quite right. Bertie was constantly trying to get out of engagements… not in them. But.. that’s what a little AU W/T fanfic is for, right? And double yay!! My fanfic has “touched” you! Woo and hoo! So.. I haven’t happened to have inspired you to illustrate any of this… have I? :D



Russ – HA!!! I got FIVE “!”’s out of you this time! YES!! And you have no idea how hard it was to come up with appropriate Willow babble in all the slang… it took me HOURS to write that one little tangent. But.. I’m glad to see it worked out!!



Debra – Well, I think I can say fairly surely that Connor will have something to do with the search for the manuscript… won’t say how… but.. you will see. And as to your question regarding Willow’s self-re-education.. you were right with the first guess. She would sit and think about it. On to the next!



Hidden Watson – It’s hard to say really.. but I think so long as coupled ladies kept mostly to themselves and weren’t too brash and open about it… they were largely ignored, or it simply wasn’t spoken of.



Marina – Glad you liked it. I wouldn’t say that Willow is particularly progressive. She is just so used to everyone calling her silly that she probably attributes her care for women as another silly aspect of herself. All I can say for your other concerns is… read on!



Wicked Reds – Yes Willow’s plate is full. Now the question is… what will she do next? TY for reading!!



Wiccanbotanist – When I was writing this I knew it was important for Willow to at least be aware of her preferences. If not.. this comedy would have turned into something serious.. and I don’t have time for seriousness in this storyline. Nope…no time at all :)



Carleen – Here’s your update for the bus tomorrow!! Read on!



Cheers

DW



"Promise me you'll never be linear." "On my trout."

Have you had your Preachification today? Get it at my site: Shadows and Light



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 Post subject: Part Five
PostPosted: Thu Apr 21, 2005 4:14 pm 
All Disclaimers Apply
Note: There is a link attached to a term I use in this update... so that if you don't know what it means, you can find out
________________________________________________________________________________

“Morning, Giles,” I said.

“Good Morning, miss,” said Giles.

Every other maid I’ve ever had would barge into my room in the morning while I was still asleep, causing much misery: but Giles seemed to know when I was awake by a sort of telepathy. He floated in exactly two minutes after I came to life and set a good old cup of tea softly on the table by my bed. Makes a deuce of a difference in a girl’s day.

“How’s the weather, Giles?”

“Exceptionally clement, miss.”

I took a refreshing sip. Just right. Not too hot, not too sweet, not too weak, not too strong, not too much milk and not a drop spilled on the saucer. Dashed competent this fellow, Giles.

“Might I ask you something, Giles?”

“I am open to all inquiries, miss.”

“What do you think of this Maclay girl? For my cousin, Lumpy, I mean.”

“She seems to be an admirable young lady of both intelligence and spirit, miss. A gentleman such as your cousin would be quite lucky to have her at his side.”

I bit my lip a moment and considered.

“Yes, I’d say you’re right.” I hated to concede the notion, but there it was for the world to see.

He started to put out my things, and there was an awkward sort of silence.

“Not those stockings, Giles,” I said, gulping a bit but having a dash at the careless, off-hand tone. “Give me the purple ones.”

“I beg your pardon, miss?”

“Those jolly purple ones.”

“Very good, miss.”

He lugged them out of the drawer as if he were a vegetarian fishing a caterpillar out of the salad. You could see he was feeling deeply. Deuced painful and all that, this sort of thing, but a person has got to assert herself every now and then.

I took breakfast in my room, and as I sat champing on my egg, I set a keen stare on the chest of drawers harboring my Uncle’s manuscript.

Daniel had talked in an airy sort of way about destroying the piece of work; but when it came down to it, how the deuce can a girl destroy a great chunky mass of paper in somebody else’s house in the middle of the summer? I couldn’t ask to have a fire in my bedroom with the thermometer in the eighties. And if I didn’t burn the thing, how else could I get rid of it? Fellows on the battlefield eat dispatches to keep them from falling into the hands of the enemy, but it would have taken me a year to eat Uncle Willoughby’s Recollections.

I’m bound to say the problem absolutely baffled me. The only thing seemed to be to leave the parcel in the drawer and hope for the best.

Jeeves filtered into the room.

“Excuse, miss, but Mr. Harrison-Phipps and company has arrived.”

“Lumpy’s finally about, you say? But what’s this ‘and company’ business, Giles?”

“An elder, portly gentleman and a rather alert young lady have arrived with him, miss. I’m sorry to report I have not yet acquired their names. Mr. Oakshott appeared quite agitated at the prospect of readying two additional rooms.“

“What, pipped?”

“He gave that impression, miss.”

“It’s no wonder, what with American girls loitering about hallways and now guests showing up unannounced.”

“Yes, miss.”

“Well, I suppose I ought to rally round and meet the old cos.”

“Very good, miss.”

******

After a brief search of the house, I discovered Lumpy outside in the garden, knocking at some golf-balls with a crochet mallet. I called after him, but he didn’t hear me, so I legged it over and gave his shoulder a keen tap.

He turned and stared at me.

“Willow! What on Earth are you doing? Where have you sprung from? When did you arrive?”

“Dearest Lumpy, hadn’t Aunt Sheila told you?”

“Told me what?”

“That you were sent here that you and I might have a word?”

“No.” He said, “the telegram merely stated that I was to come to Easeby at once.”

He paused, and his face seemed to adopt a softened expression.

“It is terribly good to see you, Willow.”

He wrapped an arm about my shoulders and gave a warm squeeze.

“You too, my dear old Lumpy.”

His soft expression turned to one of mild annoyance. He stepped away and straightened up a bit.

“Please don’t call me that. I’m going by Nick Wilson now.”

“Why on Earth?”

“Well, you try calling yourself Lumpy Harrison-Phipps when you’re getting into the ‘biz’ and see how it strikes you. You feel a perfect ass.”

“The ‘biz’?” I had no idea what he was going on about.

“I’ll explain later. Willow, I’ve fallen in love with the dearest girl in the world.”

The poor old nut looked at me in such a deuced cat-like way, standing with his mouth open, waiting to be congratulated, that I simply hadn’t the heart to tell him I already knew, and had been instructed with the express purpose of laying him a stymie.

So I congratulated him.

“Thanks awfully, old girl,” he said. “It’s a bit premature, but I fancy it’s going to be alright. Come along and I’ll tell you all about it.”

We started off toward the manse, Lumpy happily telling the story of how he had fallen for this bird called Anya Jenkins, their courtship, and his meeting her father.

“Well, you see,” he said, “Anya’s father used to be in the Music Hall profession. It was before our time, but I remember hearing about him – Dan Jenkins. He used be quite well-known in London, and even did a tour of America for a while. Well, he’s a fine old boy, but as obstinate as a mule, and he didn’t like the idea of Anya marrying me because I wasn’t a performer. Wouldn’t hear of it. Well, you remember at Oxford I could always sing a song pretty well; So Anya got hold of a producer and made him promise to come and hear me rehearse and get me bookings if he liked my work. She stands high with him. She coached me for weeks, the darling. And now, he’s booked me in the small time at thirty-five pounds a week.”

I steadied myself against the nearest wall. Through sort of a mist I seemed to have a vision of Aunt Sheila hearing that the head of the Harrison-Phippses was about to appear on the vaudeville stage. Aunt Sheila’s worship of the family name amounts to an obsession. The Harrison-Phippses were an old-established clan when William the Conqueror was a small boy going round with bare legs and a catapult. For centuries they have called kings by their first names and helped dukes with their weekly rent; and there’s practically nothing a Harrison-Phipps can do that doesn’t blot his escutcheon. So what Aunt Sheila would say – beyond that it was all my fault—when she learned the horrid news, it was beyond me to imagine.

“Go on into the house, Lumpy,” I said, “My man Giles makes this thing I call a ‘life-saver’. Something tells me I need one now. And excuse me for one minute, Lumpy. I just remembered I needed Oakshott to send a cable.”

“Hurry back, old girl. I’d forgotten to tell you that I’d brought Anya and her old man with me. They’re just getting settled in now. I can’t wait for you to meet them.”

It was clear to me now that Aunt Sheila had picked the wrong bird for this job of disentangling Lumpy from the clutches of the vaudeville profession. How could I possibly steer his eye to Miss Maclay if he had brought with him the girl he was supposed to have left behind? What I needed were reinforcements. For a moment I thought of cabling Aunt Sheila, but reason told me that this would be overdoing. I wanted assistance, but not so badly as that. I hit what seemed to be a happy mean. I had Oakshott cable to Lumpy’s mother and made it urgent.

I was so concerned with the situation of Lumps and the show-girl, I had all but forgotten about the business with my Uncle Willoughby’s manuscript. When I had pinched it the day before, I didn’t think that the old fellow would have had time to suspect that anything had gone wrong until Saturday morning, when he would be expecting, of course, to get the acknowledgement of the manuscript from the publishers. But he came out of the library as I was passing on my way back to find Lumpy and asked me to step in. He looked considerably rattled.

“Willow,” he said – he always spoke in a precise sort of pompous kind of way –“ an exceedingly disturbing thing has happened. As you know, I dispatched the manuscript of my book to Messrs. Wolfram and Hart, the publishers, yesterday afternoon. It should have reached them by first post this morning. Why I should have been uneasy I cannot say, but my mind was not altogether at rest respecting the safety of the parcel. I therefore telephoned to Messrs. Wolfram and Hart a few moments back to make inquiries. To my consternation they informed me that they were not yet in receipt of my manuscript.”

“Very rum!”

“I recollect distinctly placing it myself on the hall table in good time to be taken to the village. But here is the sinister thing. I have spoken to Oakshott, who took the rest of the letters to the post office, and he cannot recall seeing it there. He is, indeed, unswerving in his assertions that when he went into the hall to collect the letters there was no parcel among them.”

“Sounds funny!”

“Willow, shall I tell you what I suspect?”

“What’s that?” I tried not to swallow too plainly.

“The suspicion will no doubt sound to you incredible, but it alone seems to fit the facts as we know them. I incline to the belief that the parcel has been stolen.”

“Oh, I say! Surely not!”

“Wait! Hear me out. Though I have said nothing to you before, or to anyone else, concerning the matter, the fact remains that during the past few weeks a number of objects—some valuable, others not—have disappeared in this house. The conclusion to which one is irresistibly impelled is that we have a kleptomaniac in our midst. It is a peculiarity of kleptomania, as you are no doubt aware, that the subject is unable to differentiate between the intrinsic value of objects. He will purloin an old coat as readily as a diamond ring, or a tobacco pipe costing a few shillings with the same eagerness as a purse of gold. The fact that this manuscript of mine could be of no possible value to any outside person convinces me that—“

“But, Uncle, one moment; I know all about those things that were stolen. It was Dawn, my maid, who pinched them. I caught her snaffling my silk stockings! Right in the act, by Jove!”

He was tremendously impressed.

“You amaze me, Willow! Send for the girl at once and question her!”

“But she isn’t here. You see, directly I found that she was a sock-sneaker I gave her the boot. That’s why I went to London – to get a new maid. But they were out of maids, so I took on this fellow, Giles, you see.”

“Then if the maid Dawn is no longer in the house it could not be she who purloined my manuscript. The whole thing is inexplicable.”

After which we brooded for a bit. Uncle Willoughby pottered about the room while I sat feeling rather like a chappie I’d once read about in a book, who murdered another cove and hid the body under the dining room table, and then had to be the life and soul of the party, with it there all the time. My guilty secret oppressed me to such an extent that after a while I couldn’t stick it any longer. I excused myself from the library and set off again to find Lumpy.

Once in the hall, a tap on my shoulder caused me to break the record for the standing high-jump.

“It wasn’t me!” I said, spinning around.

“It wasn’t you, what?”

“Miss Maclay, I say, you gave me quite a start.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, no, it’s quite alright. A bird needs one good fright a day; I should think it rather bracing, rather like a cold bath, you know. Many’s the day I’ve had my maid draw up a chilly tub so I might have a decently pipping wash.”

“Are you speaking in code?”

“No?”

Tara seemed to glance about the area before turning her marvelous gaze back to me.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Doing?”

“Out here in the hall.”

She seemed to be getting at something, only I hadn’t the flightiest clue what that something might be.

“Nothing.” I said, then suddenly remembering, “Well, I am on my way to find old Lumps. Topping fellow, don’t you know. In fact, he’s the man you’re meant to meet. You really ought to join me. Although, he does have that Anya person with him, and her father to boot. It certainly seems a great load of stone to lay on two birds at once, wouldn’t you say? My, that’s rather like that old saying, what? Now how does it go? Something, something, thingummy, something, something? Rot, the old bean’s frightfully vexed these days. I shall take a lengthy vacation once all this is over.”

There was another of those frightfully enormous pauses.

“Has anyone ever told you that you speak very strangely?”

“Oh yes, loads in fact. My Aunt Sheila often says she hasn’t a clue what I’m saying.”

I smiled gamely as this was a point I was particularly proud of. She seemed to consider this a moment before continuing on.

“You’re adorable.”

I couldn’t help but stand a bit taller at such an open declaration.

“Am I?”

“Yes. Ridiculous, and adorable.”

She looped her arm through my own and I’d like to have fainted from joy right there.

“Take me,” she said.

“I’m sorry?” I said, trying my best not to stutter.

“To this Lumpy character, or man, or whatever he is.”

“Oh.” The light-bulb popped on. “I’m sure he’s about somewhere. I was about to have a look ‘round.”

“Mind if I join you? Since I’m supposed to meet him anyway.”

“No, no not all. Topping idea!”

I started slowly down the hall, not entirely sure of my footing. She glided along next to me, graceful as a swan on the Thames.

“Willow,” she said. “May I call you that?”

“Yes! Yes, of course!”

“And you may call me Tara.”

“Oh, well, thanks very much.” I smiled.

“May I ask you something?”

“Certainly.”

“Why am I meant to meet him?”

“Who?”

“Lumpy.”

I stopped my forward advancement and looked at her peculiarly.

“I thought it had been explained to you.” I said. Before she could answer I went on. “Oh, of course, they wouldn’t have called him ‘Lumpy’ would they? Silly me. You know him as Alexander Harrison-Phipps. And yes, that’s THE Harrison-Phippses. He’s really an upright chappie, as I’ve said. I’m sure you’ll get on famously with him.”

“They?”

“Sorry?”

“Who is the ‘they’ that wouldn’t have called him Lumpy?”

“You know, your father and my Aunt Sheila.”

I was beginning to worry that the girl might be a trifle slow.

“My father—but, Willow—“

“Aunt Sheila told me she’d met you at Barton Park, and was sending you here to meet ol’ Lumps.”

Her eyes lit up with the light of recognition. “You’re referring to Mrs. Rosenby-Gregson?”

“Yes, unfortunately.”

“But, Willow, when she suggested I visit Easeby she only gave me you as the person I was to meet. She didn’t mention anyone else. I’d certainly remember a name like Lumpy, or Alexander Harrison-Phipps. Who wouldn’t?”

“And your father hasn’t given you any instruction on agreements?”

She regarded me quite seriously.

“My father and I haven’t spoken in a very long time.”

“So, am I right in guessing, that he hasn’t send you to England to find a husband?”

She laughed. A beautiful full-throated laugh that, had there been any songbirds present, the blighters would have given their resignation, packed up their vocal bits, and popped off with the knowledge they had been thoroughly out-sung.

“No, I haven’t come to England looking to marry. I’m—well, you might say that I’m sort of divorced.”

“Oh. I see. No dowry then; that would make it more difficult.”

“It wasn’t that sort of marriage, Willow. It was what you’d call a ‘Boston Marriage’.”

She gazed at me quite keenly, as if she’d meant to go on, but had suddenly forgotten how to form vowels.

“Well, that certainly makes sense.” I said.

“It does?” She asked, seeming to find it odd that I could see the logic in it.

“Of course. You being from Boston, and everything, that would make it a Boston marriage. Just as, say, if you were to marry here, it might be called a Shropshire marriage, what?”

“No, that’s not—“

Lumpy came suddenly bounding down the hall like a wild hare escaping the hunt.

“Willow, chum! There you are!” He said. “I’ve been looking the world for you! Oh, hello.”

He nodded in Tara’s direction.

“Lumps, this is Miss Tara Maclay of Boston. Tara, this is Alexander Harrison-Phipps.”

“A pleasure,” he said.

“Likewise.”

“Hurry, Willow. I’ve got them in the sitting room. I think you’ll find them absolutely charming. You shall come as well, Miss Maclay.”

He was so excited he practically hummed with electric energy, much like one of the machines you find at the penny arcade, where you feed it a two-pence, grab the lever, and get a hearty zap for no good reason.

The first sight that firmly grabbed hold of my eyeballs upon entering the room was the extraordinarily stout chappie taking up one of the couches, chewing a cigar and peering solemnly at us over his zareba of chins. I wanted so badly to inform him that cigars were meant to be enjoyed only in the smoking room, but I feared he might sit on me in protest. I looked to Miss Maclay and her expression proved that I was not the only one surprised at the portliness of the fellow.

“Willow, this is Anya Jenkins, my fiancée,” Lumpy proudly introduced, thrusting the young girl into my line of sight. I was grateful for the change of scenery.

She was a small girl, smaller than me, I might add, sort of a brunette with blonde aspirations, her doe eyes gazed up at me and her lips formed into an anticipatory smile even as her eyebrows rose to meet her hairline. It was clear that Lumpy had informed her she was to meet with my approval.

“A pleasure, I’m sure,” I said.

“It’s so wonderful to finally meet you. “ She said, “Nick has told me so much about you, I feel as though we were sisters.” If she was anything, energetic would be the word.

“Nick? Oh, yes, Lumpy, of course.”

At that moment, Lumps drew my attention back to the odd mass in the suit.

“And this is her father, the famous Mr. Dan Jenkins.”

“The Dan Jenkins?” Tara spoke up. “The song and dance man?” She instantly paled. “I’m sorry, I’ve spoken out of turn.”

“No bother, no bother,” I said, rather hastily. I introduced her to the group.

“You’ve heard of me, young lady,” Mr. Jenkins said, his cigar rolling about his mouth as he spoke.

“I’ve seen you,” she said. “You came through Boston when I was eight years old. My mother brought my brother and I to the theatre.”

“Well, that’s rather novel, wouldn’t you say?” I said. “Makes the bally world seem a bit smaller, what?”

“Oh, Miss Rosenby, you’re so clever,” Anya said in a sort of chirrupy fashion, and followed her statement with a high-pitched squeal of a laugh that would have deafened a poodle within a quarter mile.

“Have you lot had your tea?” I asked, smiling through gritted teeth.

“Oh yes,” said Lumpy. “Oakshott delivered to us ages ago. We’d waited, old chum, but you seemed to had disappeared into thin air.”

We all sat down and I rang for tea for Miss Maclay and myself. Mr. Jenkins set about telling stories of his travels in America, having seemingly found a captive audience in Miss Maclay. I wasn’t all that certain Tara was particularly interested, but if she wasn’t, she certainly was too kind to show it.

The formidable Miss Jenkins continued her efforts to arrive on my good side, and I tried, for Lumpy’s sake, to like the girl at least a little, but every time she pierced the air with that ridiculous laugh, the train of good intentions promptly derailed.

Oakshott arrived and announced that dinner would be served at seven. We retired to our rooms to prepare for the feast.

I was simply exhausted. The grey-matter was frightfully overloaded with schemes, American girls, rotund former dancers and squealing actresses. I decided I simply couldn’t shoulder the burden alone any longer. I was going to have to share some of it, and Giles was the only fellow available. I related the business of young Lumpy and my Aunt’s designs on him, keeping the manuscript business, which I felt was far too rummy to risk letting him in on, to myself. Don’t want too many hands in the kettle, what?

“And that’s how the matter stands, Giles,” I said as I finished dressing behind a screen.

“A rather curious situation, miss.”

“What are we going to do about it?”

“Time may provide a solution, miss.”

“On the other hand, it mayn’t, what?”

“Extremely true, miss.”

“Giles, Mr. Harrison-Phipps is going on the stage!”

“Indeed, miss?”

“Ah! The thing doesn’t hit you! You don’t get it properly! Here’s the point. The family is most fearfully dead against his going on the stage. There’s going to be no end of trouble if he isn’t headed off. And what’s worse, My Aunt Sheila will blame me, you see.”

“I see, miss.”

“Well, can’t you think of some way of stopping him?”

“Not, I confess, at the moment, miss.”

“Well, have a stab at it.”

“I will give the matter my best consideration, miss. Will there be anything further?”

“I hope not! I’ve had all I can stand, already!”

“Very good, miss.”

He popped off.

Well, if he was going to be bally unsympathetic as that there was nothing to be done. But if he was letting those purple stockings rankle him to that extent, the good old noblesse oblige of the Rosenby’s couldn’t lower much to the extent of pleading with the man. Absolutely not. So I gave it a miss.

*****

TBC....

"Promise me you'll never be linear." "On my trout."
Have you had your Preachification today? Get it at my site: Shadows and Light


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 Post subject: Re: Part Five
PostPosted: Thu Apr 21, 2005 4:45 pm 
I'm all for the influx of updates but it is getting difficult to keep up with you. Oh not that I'm complaining, really I am not, just keep them coming....



You said "When I was writing this I knew it was important for Willow to at least be aware of her preferences. If not.. this comedy would have turned into something serious.." Well, I hear you there...that has been a fault in my writing before. Very difficult to sort out and stay light in that circumstance.



Quote:
He floated in exactly two minutes after I came to life and set a good old cup of tea softly on the table by my bed. Makes a deuce of a difference in a girl’s day.


Can I have a Giles?



And I've pulled a bunch of great quotes out which I don't want to overload the board with lots of those little quote thingies so I'm just going withit. And these aren't all the ones I wanted to pull out.



~~“Are you speaking in code?”



~~“Take me,” she said. “I’m sorry?” I said, trying my best not to stutter.



~~A beautiful full-throated laugh that, had there been any songbirds present, the blighters would have given their resignation, packed up their vocal bits, and popped off with the knowledge they had been thoroughly out-sung.



Classics I must say. Willow has always had a way of saying things and the setting of this piece just magnifies it. I definiately have to congratulate you on it, it must have been difficult. I also stuttered a bit myself when I read Tara saying "Take me." And that is the best description of a beautiful laugh that I have ever read.



Oh and the arcade, where can I find one. I now know how to get rid of my abundance of 2-pence. Ridiculous things I tell you. Again nicely done. :clap I may or may not have asked you this before but can I worship you? :pray



-wiccanbotanist

I like having low self-esteem, makes me feel special - Jane Lane (from Daria)

Sugas mea papilium (Suck my butterfly) - A Woman in Uniform by umgaynow

I used to be indecisive, but now I'm not so sure.



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 Post subject: Re: Part Five
PostPosted: Thu Apr 21, 2005 5:37 pm 
*puffs* *exhausted but happy* :clap



Read update, laugh my head off, formulate no-vowel-sound words, type said words, discover another update, laugh ... and repeat.



Oh, and somewhere in between, go to work, sleep, eat. You know, the lesser things in life.



Each family and class have their own codes and expectations, right? The upper classes like Aunt Sheila will blanch at one of their own being associated with someone from the *theatre*, while Mr Jenkins, from the renowned Music Hall "biz" will not hear of his daughter marrying someone not of that background. Human behaviour is the same, non matter which class you're from (look at the teenage antics of Prince Harry and you'll know what I mean).



Boston Marriage:bounce :bounce I so know what it means!
Quote:
No, I haven’t come to England looking to marry. I’m—well, you might say that I’m sort of divorced.
Well, as soon as Willow learns what exactly what that means, she'd better get in there as quick as she can.



So, what can Jeeves come up with, that will solve the problems. Now I fully realize the meaning of the title, that we'll just have to Leave it to Giles. Thank you!



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 Post subject: Re: Part Five
PostPosted: Thu Apr 21, 2005 6:18 pm 
Wow. Three more updates since I was here yesterday. This is awesome.



Gosh, poor Willow. First Daniel and his scheme, now Aunt Shelia and hers. And I have to say, I don't like Aunt Shelia's plan at all, and not just because it involves 'Lumpy' and Tara, although that would be reason enough. But also, I like Xanya, and am rooting for them for their own sakes.



Tara and Willow are so cute together. I especially liked Tara's comments about Willow's speech.



Quote:
“No, no, it’s quite alright. A bird needs one good fright a day; I should think it rather bracing, rather like a cold bath, you know. Many’s the day I’ve had my maid draw up a chilly tub so I might have a decently pipping wash.”



“Are you speaking in code?”



“No?”




So funny.



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 Post subject: Re: Part Five
PostPosted: Thu Apr 21, 2005 8:08 pm 
Finally we seem to be moving toward the Leave it to Giles part. I've been counting on the title being apt. I mean so far, Willow hasn't been particularly counting on her man at all. So nice to have her bring him in on the Lumpy situation. Tee hee about Tara and her Boston Marriage. Lol. I wish Willow had gotten it at all. Maybe when she does a lightbulb will go off and she'll grab Tara and dance her around the room or whatever.



How could this be the next to last part? Let wait, I know: Huck and Jim happen to arrive at a farm where Tom Sawyer is staying and it's ok because they're in the right place and all ends well? No, that's something else. Everything will be resolved in one more part? Hard to imagine. Well done and thanks for the fast updates.



Adding the next morning:
Quote:
“Has anyone ever told you that you speak very strangely?”



“Oh yes, loads in fact. My Aunt Sheila often says she hasn’t a clue what I’m saying.”
This interchange is wonderful and reminds me of the bit in An Ideal Husband (from memory so don't shoot if it's not spot-on):



Father: "Do you always understand what you're saying?"



Son: "Yes - If - I - Listen - Carefully ."



Of course the interchange immediately after where Willow is adorable and ridiculous is wonderful too.

"It is better to waste one's youth than to do nothing with it at all- Georges Courteline

"Censorship, like charity, should begin at home; but unlike charity, it should end there." - Chare Booth Luce

My latest story: Survivor - Ash Island

Edited by: JustSkipIt at: 4/22/05 4:36 am


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 Post subject: Re: Part Five
PostPosted: Thu Apr 21, 2005 9:52 pm 
Oooh!

So we have the formal introduction to the holy terror that is Connor. I have to say tho... he makes for excellent comic relief! He seems a bit OCD with all those good deeds...and he's a week behind? Good lord thats obsessive!



And then the encouter with Tara and the cigars! LOL!

Willow tried sooo hard to cover for that.



“But I was in your room when you gave them to me.”



“Well, I must have been in the wrong room then, mustn’t I?”



“You’re balmy!”



I loved that part!

Someone that nuts thinking Willow is off her rocker.. ohh thats pretty bad.



And then:shock

Another update already?

Quite the pace you are keeping here:boot



Ooooh getting to the juicy parts now....



A conference with her Uncle..the jig is nearly up! However I loved this line:

Quote:
“Then if the maid Dawn is no longer in the house it could not be she who purloined my manuscript. The whole thing is inexplicable.”




In a time when servants were often cast aside like an old pair of mis-polished shoes, Willow shows she has real character. She has an actual patsy for her crime and yet she doesn't do the easy thing and blame it on Dawn.





I loved this line...just because it makes me laugh.. and reminds me of me at 3 am...



My, that’s rather like that old saying, what? Now how does it go? Something, something, thingummy, something, something?





Ohhh and the introduction of Tara:clap

She's sooo charming and quite sweet:D

She seems quite observant and intuitive..which is important because it doesn't seem that this Willow is either of those things. And dearest Willow, Tara called her adorable. There is no defense for that..Willow is a goner for sure.





Considering how dense Willow has been thus far, I found this particular thought about Tara to be funny:

Quote:
I was beginning to worry that the girl might be a trifle slow.




:rofl



I love it, I love it! :applause :applause :applause

Now that Tara has arrived, things should continue to get more and more interesting:D



Can't wait for more!









I learned how to tie a tie, without any live, personal demonstrations. The most mind boggling thing the average American guy has to do, I did successfully by myself within fifteen minutes. And so, I shall orient the tip of my nose toward the heavens, and lift my hat only to the man who can menstruate with the same ease. ~Ravenousgrape



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 Post subject: Re: Part Five
PostPosted: Fri Apr 22, 2005 5:36 am 
dw, i'm late getting to the feedback party here, but slow feedback is better than none, right? such an amazing job you're doing here, not the least with the language, but also the plot and your colorful cast. i think you may have single handedly saved willow babble for me. it's one of those things every author feels compelled to do, and lately i find myself skimming her babbles more often than not, but not here.

your willow, whether she's babbling or not is a complete joy to read and reread. especially liked her reaction to her first sight of tara, "deucedly pretty". it strikes me that your willow has thrown herself whole hog into being useless in her overacheiving kind of way because it's the thing to do in her set, but if tara steered her toward applying all that energy somewhere she could probably change the world singlehandedly.

loved giles controlled reaction to the purple stockings, can't wait to see how he helps willow bail herself out of all of this. also getting a big kick out of your conner, i've always found him to be a complete twerp, and you've captured that perfectly.

if i had a fraction of your gift for language i would spend the rest of the morning heaping praises on you. since i don't, i'll pass the time rereading this from the beginning.~mary

take me somewhere we can be alone
make me somewhere i can call a home~zero 7



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 Post subject: Re: Part Five
PostPosted: Fri Apr 22, 2005 10:49 am 
Well, DW, I'm glad I found time to give feedback today because it just needs to be said that this is a great story.



The characters are so delightfully described that I have a continuous smile plastered on my face for the entirety of each update. You've really captured this style so well that I feel I'm sitting along side them in the manor, immersed in the witty conversation. Thanks so much for giving us yet another example of your wonderful storytelling abilities.



~Cyd




Where I go, you go with me

Though the miles keep us apart

~Garnet Rogers



Altered Shadows



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 Post subject: Re: Part Five
PostPosted: Fri Apr 22, 2005 2:16 pm 
Yet again you have kept me laughing through an update. I'm really enjoying this. Your use of language in this piece is masterful. Kudos to you!



I'm with Debra on this one....I'm shocked at the prospect of this being nearly finished. It should be interesting to see the way you get things wrapped up.



Looking forward to more from you, DW!



Carleen :wave




‘Well hello you big old monster you, I fart in your general direction!’ --Willow WtVS: Episode One: Hellmouth High



"I support your lifestyle choice. You go gay girl." -- Anya A Hot and Heavy Halloween



"Please feel free to enjoy your lesbianism." -- Anya Art Appreciation



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 Post subject: Re: Part Five Replies
PostPosted: Fri Apr 22, 2005 6:03 pm 
Replies for Part Five



Wiccanbotanist – I think it would be great to have a “Giles”… but... I think I would get tired of it after a while, though. Being waited on constantly (if you’re not used to it) would probably get annoying. And thank you, the laugh description is probably one of the best paragraphs I have ever written. I’m glad you enjoyed reading it. As for Penny Arcades… the only one I know to still exist is on Main St. at Disneyland. And I’m not even sure it’s still there.



Hidden Watson – Yes, I agree, though class structure is different, human behavior is always the same. And yes, now that things are starting to unravel.. we simply have no other choice but to “Leave it to Giles”. :D



The hero factor – Well, all there is now is to see how everything turns out in the end. I’m glad you’re enjoying the W/T interchange.



Debra – Yes, the exchange is similar to Wilde… hadn’t noticed that before. Heh. And as for everything being wrapped up in the next part… would it help if I told you it was a really long part? I can’t see anyway of breaking it up that wouldn’t cause unnecessary angst for the reader. Strangely, I don’t want there to be any reader-angst for this story. Odd of me, I know.



Cindi – Wow! That’s a lot of reply! I’m glad you’re enjoying it to much! I’m especially happy you thought the “I was beginning to worry that the girl might be a trifle slow”, was funny!! I must admit I giggled when I wrote it. TY!



Meretricious – Huzzah! I have saved Willow-babble! Yay for me!! :D I must admit… it does get tiresome. I too have been known to skim through babbles. I think the main problem a lot of authors fall into is that they either forget or don’t realize that Willow is always driving toward a point, no matter how many tangents she goes off on, she is always aware of the initial point she is trying to make. She’s not just going on incoherently about nothing… and I think that is the biggest problem of a lot of babbles today. But… now I find I am lecturing… and will stop myself. And yes, I too have always disliked Connor immensely...so I’m enjoying messing with the character here.



Hermitfish – I’m so glad that you are finding yourself immersed. That is the ultimate goal of any author.. and I am happy to know that I have accomplished it here.



GayNow – Thank you!! Yes, that’s right… only one part left!! And it’s a crazy one!



Ok, well, I think I am going to wait a leeeeeetle bit longer to post the last part… not to squeeze out more replies… just to let the anticipation build a little more. Yes, I am evil.



Ok… take care!! I’ll post the last portion… at some point in the next few days.



Cheers

DW



"Promise me you'll never be linear." "On my trout."

Have you had your Preachification today? Get it at my site: Shadows and Light



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 Post subject: Re: Part Five Replies
PostPosted: Fri Apr 22, 2005 7:36 pm 
I just started reading this fic and I have to say I loved it. Its so charming and soo funny, i swear I smiling the entire time I am reading it. I cant wait for you to post more! Please do soon It would be a nice break from all my finals.



trish

Ps. PLEASE POST MORE SOON



Don’t forget, we are the people that can have dreams for which we don’t yet have words. Maybe my accomplishment has been to find some of those words.- Harry Hay



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 Post subject: Re: Part Five Replies
PostPosted: Sat Apr 23, 2005 2:08 am 
I just read this all, and I can't wait for more. I really like the way you've written the characters. Your style of writing in this is hilarious, too. Willow's thoughts are so amusing to read. I hope things are going well for you, and that you'll feel up to posting soon. :) Thank you for a great story!



Aimee

"Pope John Paul today confirmed his opposition to gay marriages, said they're unnatural. Gay marriage is unnatural. Then he put on a pointy hat, his dress, and returned to never having sex at all." -Bill Maher



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 Post subject: Re: Part Five Replies 2 and Part 6A
PostPosted: Sat Apr 23, 2005 12:52 pm 
FireflyofDust -- Thank you!! I'm glad you're enjoying it. Here's more! Please read on!

Aimee -- Thanks! and I feel great!! So.. in honor of feeling great.. here's the next part!!

Ok folks.. well, aftre thinking it over a great deal, I have decided to split the last part in two. This does mean a little bit of angst for you all... and I hope you will forgive me. But just keep in mind that everything will be sorted in the end. Ok.. that said... here it is:

All Disclaimers Apply

____________________________________________________________________________________

After dinner, Aunt Jessica arrived. Mrs. Harrison-Phipps, my Aunt Jessica, is, I think, the most dignified person I know. She lacks Aunt Sheila’s punch, but in a quiet way she has always contrived to make me feel, from girlhood up, that I was a poor worm. Not that she harries me like Aunt Sheila. The difference between the two is that Aunt Sheila conveys the impression that she considers me personally responsible for all the sin and sorrow in the world, while Aunt Jessica’s manner seemed to suggest that I am more to be pitied than censured.

If it wasn’t a matter of historical fact, I should be inclined to believe that Aunt Jessica had never been on the vaudeville stage. She was like a stage duchess.

She always seems to me to be in a perpetual state of being about to desire the butler to instruct the head footman to serve lunch in the blue room overlooking the terrace. She exudes dignity. Yet, twenty five years ago, so I’ve been told by the old boys who were lads about town in those days, she was knocking them cold at the Tivoli in a double act called “Fun in a Tea-Shop”, in which she wore tights and sang a song with a chorus that began “Rumpty-tiddley-umpty-ay.”

There are some thing a bird’s mind absolutely refuses to picture, and Aunt Jessica singing, “Rumpty-tiddley-umpty-ay,” is one of them.

She got straight to the point within five minutes of our meeting.

“What is this about Alexander? Why did you cable me, Willow?”

“It’s a rather long story,” I said, “and complicated. If you don’t mind, I’ll let you have it in a series of motion pictures. Suppose we look in at the drawing room for a few minutes.”

The girl, Anya, stood by the piano as Lumpy plunked about on the keys. Tara sat attentively on one of the couches, and nearby Uncle Willoughby snoozed lightly in one of his great chairs. Mr. Jenkins was not about the place. I assumed he had retired to the smoking room for a cigar, as Uncle had made it clear during dinner that he was not pleased with the odor left behind in the sitting room.

I led Aunt Jessica to a seat even as Anya started in on an act of three songs. I must admit the girl did have a ripping voice.

“Exhibit A,” I said softly into Aunt Jessica’s ear, “the girl Lumpy’s engaged to.”

She didn’t seem to hear me. Anya finished her second song, and both Tara and Lumpy applauded generously. Uncle Willoughby stirred from his chair, and muttered something about retiring to the quiet of the library.

“Well?” I said as the girl began her final number.

“I like her work. She’s an artist.”

Anya finished and she and Lumpy promptly switched places.

“Exhibit B,” I said, “Lumpy.”

She did not move a muscle, but just stared at Lumpy as he drooled on about the moon. I was sorry for the woman. It must have been a shock to her to see her only son prancing about the room and singing what was obviously a vaudeville number, but I felt it best to let her get a strangle-hold of the intricacies of the situation as quickly as possible. If I had tried to explain the affair without the aid of illustrations I should have talked all night and muddled her up as to who was going to marry whom and why.

Lumpy finished with a resounding chorus, and after receiving several polite claps, he and his girl popped off to the garden.

“What does this mean, Willow?”

She spoke quietly and her voice shook a bit.

“Lumpy went into the business,” I said, “because the girl’s father wouldn’t let him marry her unless he did. He’s an old boy, rather large, and he’s Exhibit C on my list.”

As though the blighter had been standing off-stage awaiting his cue, Mr. Jenkins presently entered the drawing room.

“Good Evening, Mr. Jenkins,” I began.

I had got as far as that when there was a kind of gasping cry at my elbow.

“Dan!” cried Aunt Jessica, and staggered upright against the sofa.

For a moment Old Jenkins stared at her, and then his mouth fell open against his many chins, and his eyebrows shot up like rockets.

“Jessie!”

And then they got hold of each other’s hands and where shaking them till I wonder their arms didn’t come unscrewed.

I’m not equal to this sort of thing at such short notice. The change in Aunt Jessica made me feel quite dizzy. She had shed her grande-dame manner completely, and was blushing and smiling. I don’t like to say such things about any aunt of mine, or I would go further to put it on record that she was giggling. And Old Jenkins, who usually looked a cross between a roman emperor and a particularly pipped walrus, was behaving like a small boy.

“Dan!”

“Jessie!”

“Dear old Dan! Fancy meeting you again!”

“Wherever have you come from, Jessie?”

Well, I didn’t know what it was all about, but I felt a bit out of it. I butted in.

“Aunt Jessica wants to have a talk with you, Mr. Jenkins.”

“I knew you in a second, Dan!”

“It’s twenty-five years since I saw you, kid, and you don’t look a day older.”

“Oh, Dan! I’m an old woman!”

“What are you doing here? I suppose” --Old Jenkins’ cheerfulness waned a trifle – “ I suppose your husband is with you.”

“My husband died a long, long while ago, Dan.”

Jenkins shook his head.

“You never ought to have married out of the profession, Jessie. I’m not saying a word against the late – I can’t remember his name; never could – but you shouldn’t have done it, an artist like you. Shall I ever forget the way you used to knock them with ‘Rumpty-tiddley-umpty-ay’?”

“Ah! How wonderful you were in that act, Dan.” Aunt Jessica sighed. “Do you remember the back-fall you used to do down the steps? I always have said you did the best back-fall in the profession.”

“I couldn’t do it now!”

“Dan, tell me, why did you leave England to tour America for so long?”

“Well, I – I wanted a change. No, I’ll tell you the truth, kid. I wanted you, Jessie. You went off and married that – whatever that stage-door Johnny’s name was – and it broke me all up.”

I edged for the door and slipped from the room. I felt weak. The old bean will stand a certain amount, but this was too much. I groped my way down the hall and out onto the grounds.

“Care if I join you?” Miss Maclay’s lovely voice drifted into my ears. “It’s a beautiful night for a walk.”

“Ah! Miss Maclay – or that is to say, Tara, as you have said I am to call you – of course you may, and it is, rather, isn’t it?”

Or it would have been, if the world weren’t in a process of falling down about me.

“Things aren’t going very well, are they?” She said.

“What? Oh, nothing of the kind. Everything’s bally wonderful.” I paused a moment. “I say, there wouldn’t be a chance of you falling madly in love with Lumpy and turning his head from that actress-woman?”

“I’m afraid not.”

“I thought naught.”

I bit my lip and mulled.

“I’d hoped we might be able to continue our conversation from earlier.” She said.

“Oh, yes, of course, carry on, carry on.”

“Well, I was trying to explain about my former marriage.”

“Ah, the chappie in Boston?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I was hoping to clarify. Willow, there was no ‘chappie’.”

I felt a strange expression come over my face as the melon promptly turned to dust.

“You weren’t married, then?”

“Not in what you might call the traditional sense. I lived with a woman for several years. We only recently parted ways.”

“I’m no expert of course, but I never thought to be one’s roommate was the same as being married.”

“We—we were more than roommates. We were attached.”

“Well, certainly. I’d imagine spending loads of time with a person in tight quarters and you are likely to become close, what?”

She stepped in front of me as though to halt my advance. She seemed rather pipped about something or other.

“Willow, I fear I am going to have to be very plain with you.”

“Haven’t you been?”

“Not as plain as is apparently necessary, no.”

She paused.

“We loved each other.”

“Who did?”

“The woman I lived with and myself.” She kept on. “Her name was Eleanor, and though we did care for each other very much, her father had a particularly strong hold on her welfare. At his arrangement, she was married to a wealthy landowner in Carolina. I have been without a companion since. I did not come to England to find a husband, as I do not care, nor ever have cared, for the company of men. But somehow, I feel, that this should not come as a shock to you. Willow, when we met yesterday, I felt there was a certain understanding that passed between us, even though you may not have known it at the time. Do you follow what I am saying?”

“You haven’t traveled across the pond to seek out a fellow?”

“No.”

“I say.”

“In truth I’ve come to England to settle. I’m bored of the States. It’s all industry, no art. All logic and no romance.”

“Well, now, I must argue with you there. I have been to New York and logic certainly wasn’t the first word to pop to mind.” They have barmen, don’t you know, in New York, not barmaids. Rum idea!

“The trouble is, I haven’t found anywhere I can afford. The exchange rate is simply awful, especially given my limited savings. So I have been traveling the country, doing my best to endear myself well enough to be a guest in the nicer homes. The only real problem is I haven’t a home of my own, and I keep getting pushed to form attachments with every eligible Englishman of name.”

“Jolly nuisance, what?”

“Exactly. Now, what of you, Willow? Do you have a – companion?”

I brooded over the word a moment. She seemed to have likened the term to mean roommate, which I certainly didn’t have, and answered so.

She regarded me keenly a moment.

“I wish to do something I fear may frighten you off. But I simply cannot contain myself any longer.”

And then I found her leaning toward me, and her eyes fluttered shut, and before I could say two words about it, she’d kissed me.

It was one of those still evenings you get in the summer, the kind where you can hear a snail clear its throat a mile away. The sun had finished sinking over the hills and gnats were fooling about all over the place, and everything smelled rather topping – what with the falling dew and so on – and I was just beginning to feel a little soothed by the peace of it all coupled with the lovely sensation of the girl’s lips on my own when suddenly I heard my name spoken.

“It’s about Willow.”

It was the loathsome voice of young blighted Connor! For a moment, I couldn’t locate it. But then I realized that it came from the library. Our stroll had taken us within a few yards of the open window.

I often wondered how those Johnnies in the books did it – I mean the fellows whom it was the work of a moment to do about a dozen things that ought to have taken them ten minutes. But, as a matter of fact, it was the work of a moment with me to excuse myself from Tara, swear a bit, leap about ten yards, dive into a bush that stood near the library window, and stand there with my ears flapping. I was certain as I’ve ever been of anything that all sorts of rotten things were in the offing.

“About Willow?” I heard Uncle Willoughby say.

“About Willow and your parcel. I heard you talking to her earlier before supper. I believe she’s got it.”

When I tell you that just as I heard these frightful words a fairly substantial beetle of sorts dropped from the bush down the back of my neck, and I couldn’t even stir to squash the same, you will understand that I felt pretty rotten. Everything seemed against me.

“What do you mean, boy? I was discussing the disappearance of my manuscript with Willow and she professed herself as perplexed by the mystery as myself.”

“Well, I was in her room yesterday afternoon, doing her an act of kindness, and she came in with a parcel. I could see it, though she tried to keep it behind her back. And then, she asked me to go to the smoking room and snip some cigars for her; and about two minutes afterwards she came down – and she wasn’t carrying anything. So it must be in her room.”

I understand they deliberately teach these dashed Boy Scouts to cultivate their powers of observation and deduction and what not. Devilish thoughtless and inconsiderate of them, I call it. Look at the trouble it causes.

“It sounds incredible,” said Uncle Willoughby, thereby bucking me up a trifle.

“Shall I go look in her room?” asked young blighted Connor. “I’m sure the parcel’s there.”

“But what could be her motive for perpetuating such an extraordinary theft?”

“Perhaps she’s a – what you said just now?”

“A kleptomaniac? Impossible!”

“It might have been Willow who took all those things from the very start,” suggested the little brute hopefully. “He may be like Raffles.”

“Raffles?”

“He’s a chap in a book who went about pinching things.”

“I cannot believe that Willow would – ah – go about pinching things.”

“Well, I’m sure she’s got the parcel. I’ll tell you what you might do. You might say that Mr. Berkeley had wired that he’d left something here. He had Willow’s room, you know. You might say you wanted to look for it.”

“That would be possible. I—“

I didn’t wait to hear any more. Things were getting too hot. I sneaked softly out of my bush and raced for the front door. I just rounded the corner into the hall when I practically collided with Lumpy.

“Willow,” he said, “I feel as if I were dreaming.”

“I wish I could say the same, old top,” I said, and took another glance at the stairs leading to my room.

“Anya and I just returned to the drawing room. And what do you know? The mater was sitting hand in hand with old Jenkins!”

“Really?”

“They are going to be married!”

“Exactly.”

“Anya and I are going to be married.”

“I suppose so.”

“Willow, old chum, I feel immense. I look round me, and everything seems to be absolutely corking. The change in the mater is marvelous. She is twenty-five years younger. She and old Jenkins are talking of reviving ‘Fun in a Tea Shop,’ and going out on the road with it.”

I pushed away from him.

“Lumpy, old top,” I said, “leave me for a while. I would be alone. I think I’ve got brain fever or something.”

I sprinted up to my room and made for the drawer where I put the parcel. And then I found I hadn’t the key. It wasn’t for the deuce of a time that I recollected I had shifted it to my golfing trousers the night before and must have forgotten to take it out again.

Where the dickens were my sporting things? I had looked all over the place before I remembered Giles must have taken them away to brush. To leap at the bell and ring it was, with me, the work of a moment. I had just rung it when there was a footstep outside, and in came Uncle Willoughby.

“Oh, Willow,” he said, without a blush, “I have – ah – received a telegram from Berkeley, who occupied this room in your absence, asking me to forward him his – er – his cigarette-case, which, it would appear, he inadvertently omitted to take with him when he left the house. I cannot find it downstairs; and it has, therefore, occurred to me he may have left it in this room. I will – er—just take a look around.”

It was one of the most disgusting spectacles I’ve ever seen – this white-haired old man, who should have been thinking of the hereafter, standing there lying like an actor.

“I haven’t seen it anywhere,” I said.

“Nevertheless, I will search. I must – ah – spare no effort.”

“I should have seen it if it had been here, what?”

“It may have escaped your notice. It is –er – possibly in one of the drawers.”

He began to nose about. He pulled out drawer after drawer, pottering around like an old bloodhound, and babbling from time to time about Berkeley and his cigarette-case in a way that struck me as perfectly ghastly. I just stood there, losing weight every second.

Then he came to the drawer where the parcel was.

“It appears to be locked,” he said, rattling the handle.

“Yes, I shouldn’t bother about that one. It – it’s – er – locked, and all that sort of thing.”

“You have not the key?”

A soft, respectful voice spoke up behind me.

“I fancy, miss, that this must be the key that you require. It was in the pocket of your golfing trousers.”

It was Giles. He had shimmered in, carrying my sporting things, and was standing there holding out the key. I could have massacred the man.

“Thank you,” said my uncle.

“Not at all, sir.”

The next moment Uncle Willoughby had opened the drawer. I shut my eyes.

“No,” said Uncle Willoughby, ”there is nothing here. The drawer is empty. Thank you, Willow. I hope I have not disturbed you. I fancy – er – Berkeley must have taken his case with him after all.”

When he had gone I shut the door carefully. Then I turned to Giles. The man was putting my sporting things in the armoire.

“Er – Giles!”

“Miss?”

“Oh, nothing.”

It was deuced difficult to know how to begin.

“Er – Giles!”

“Miss?”

“Did you – Was there – Have you by chance –“

“I removed the parcel this morning, miss.”

“Oh—ah—why?”

“I considered it more prudent, miss.”

I mused for a while.

“Of course, I suppose all this seems tolerably rummy to you, Giles?”

“Not at all, miss. I chanced to hear you and Lord Daniel speaking of the matter the other evening, miss.”

“Did you, by Jove?”

“Yes, miss.”

“Well – er—Giles, I think that, on the whole, if you were to – as it were – freeze on to that parcel until we get back to London—“

“Exactly, miss.”

“And then we might –er – so to speak – chuck it away somewhere, what?”

“Precisely, miss.”

“I’ll leave it in your hands.”

“Entirely, miss.”

“You know, Giles, you’re by way of being rather a topper.”

“I endeavor to give satisfaction, miss.”

“One in a million, by Jove!”

“It is very kind of you to say so, miss.”

“Giles, those purple stockings!”

“Yes, miss?”

“Burn them!”

“Thank you very much indeed, miss.”

“Well, that’s about all then, I think”

“Very good, miss.”

Suddenly, a horrifying thought struck me and sent my mood crumbling to a shambles.

“Oh blast!”

“Miss?”

“Lord Osbourne! I’d completely forgotten! Oh, Daniel! Oh, Tara! Oh, it’s simply horrible!”

“I’m afraid I do not follow, miss.”

“Well, I must tell her, mustn’t I? I shan’t be her companion now, shall I? Oh, blighted Daniel!”

I legged it from the room in a terrible state and staggered to the garden where I found Tara sitting by a lighted fountain. The girl looked like an angel, her coiffed hair all a-glow and whatnot. Rather like one of those museum paintings with all the cherubs floating about.

It liked to have killed me to tell her of Lord Osbourne’s attachment to me, but I had no other choice. My agreement with him had been made before my meeting Miss Maclay, and sadly, an agreement was an agreement.

She took the news as well as could have been hoped. Brave little soldier and all that, though it was easy to see she was terribly saddened, and I swear I saw her chin quiver once or twice. She complained of being suddenly tired, so I escorted her gently to her room. She placed the tiniest of kisses on my cheek before bidding me goodnight.

I awoke the next morning to find her packing off for the London train. I knew it was my entire fault, and felt terrible, rather like one of those two-timing Johnnies from the books, don’t you know. I instructed Giles to go along with her to the city and not to return to Easeby until he had installed her at one of the finer hotels at my expense, and made it clear that she was to stay there as long as she liked.

He returned that evening and reported all was in satisfactory order.

I was frightfully depressed.

*****

TBConcluded....
"Promise me you'll never be linear." "On my trout."
Have you had your Preachification today? Get it at my site: Shadows and Light


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 Post subject: Re: Part Five Replies 2 and Part 6A
PostPosted: Sat Apr 23, 2005 1:20 pm 
Good ol' Giles! Always knowing what to do!



Some fun and interesting developments in this part, DW. The following quote had me rolling with laughter:

Quote:
There are some thing a bird’s mind absolutely refuses to picture, and Aunt Jessica singing, “Rumpty-tiddley-umpty-ay,” is one of them.


Just the visual image of ANYONE doing that is enough to make me guffaw. :laugh



I'm looking forward to the conclusion of your delightful story. Hopefully we won't have to wait long. And then maybe you'll take a stab at my fic challenge...I would LOVE LOVE LOVE to see what you came up with for that. :rofl



Carleen :wave




‘Well hello you big old monster you, I fart in your general direction!’ --Willow WtVS: Episode One: Hellmouth High



"I support your lifestyle choice. You go gay girl." -- Anya A Hot and Heavy Halloween



"Please feel free to enjoy your lesbianism." -- Anya Art Appreciation



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 Post subject: Re: Part Five Replies 2 and Part 6A
PostPosted: Sat Apr 23, 2005 1:34 pm 
Dammit DW! leaving it there... but i love suspense.. hehe



-reds:willow



Meine Banane tanzt für Rußflocke :banana

Smutbunny Anthem: *sung to tune from Goldfinger* Smutbunnies...they'er the bunnies, the bunnies that love the smut...and Willow's butt. They surf for smut fiction...always lookin' for the next naked sweaty fix...of Tara's tits.- Written By Cameron(tarawhipped) For Us Smut Bunnies



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 Post subject: Re: Part Five Replies 2 and Part 6A
PostPosted: Sat Apr 23, 2005 3:08 pm 
Two days. My computer is in the shop for a mere two days, and I come back to find that I've missed, not one, but two updates. Ah, but the pleasure of catching up!



From pt. 5, the W/T "getting acquainted" scene was priceless. Tara's "Are you speaking in code?" was priceless, but best of all was:



Quote:
She laughed. A beautiful full-throated laugh that, had there been any songbirds present, the blighters would have given their resignation, packed up their vocal bits, and popped off with the knowledge they had been thoroughly out-sung.




What a wonderful description of Tara's (i.e., Amber's) laugh. I can hear it now.



From pt.6, I loved Willow's "show & tell" to Aunt Jessica. Aunt Jessica, by the way, has the right idea about Willow: "a poor worm" but "more to be pitied than censured."



Then Anya's dad turns out to be Jessica's old flame, and the two decide to renew old ties. A delighful twist, and just the thing to drive Willow into a state of shock. Which is not too different from her normal state.



Actually, it's no wonder Tara is "rather pipped" with Willow's obtuseness in not understanding Tara's situation. At last, with the kiss, it seems she's getting through to her, when up pops "young blighted Connor" to spoil the mood. Indeed, Willow bolts with hardly a word to Tara, as she runs off to deal with the manuscript caper.



Good old Giles has come through in saving Willow's bacon here. However, shame on you for leaving Tara terribly saddened, and Willow frightfully depressed. Decent of Willow to foot the bill for the hotel, though.



When will it occur to her that getting the manuscript to W&H is all that's required to set her free of the agreement with blighted Daniel? And why is it that he can end the engagement out of pique, and it's perfectly alright, but to Willow, "an agreement is an agreement?"





Russ



When we love and give it everything we've got, no matter what the consequences, we are doing what we were put here to do -- Geneen Roth



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 Post subject: Re: Part Five Replies 2 and Part 6A
PostPosted: Sat Apr 23, 2005 5:17 pm 
I was so excited to come back and find yet another update. I cant wait for more!



trish

Don’t forget, we are the people that can have dreams for which we don’t yet have words. Maybe my accomplishment has been to find some of those words.- Harry Hay



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 Post subject: Re: Part Five Replies 2 and Part 6A
PostPosted: Sun Apr 24, 2005 12:04 am 
This was quite the update!



We have love bounding all over the place! Lumpy and Anya, Dan and Jessica, and Willow and Tara!

Wait a sec.

LOL



Um, that means that Lumpy and Anya are going to get married.. and so are their parents. Wellllll it will certainly make getting together for the holidays much easier!





Awwww and the kiss was such a sweet one, it was like the world just became brighter and more beautiful for her in that one moment:luv2



For me this update was about the romance and also Willow's head. Yes, I was examining her melon closely.



She starts off by saying this:
Quote:
If I had tried to explain the affair without the aid of illustrations I should have talked all night and muddled her up as to who was going to marry whom and why.
This made me reconsider Willow. She is actually aware that she babbles and that this can confuse people and make her hard to keep up with, which is why she decided to use visual aids instead. So I was thinking "Ah HA! Maybe she is more intelligent than she lets on..."



But then, when Tara asks her if she has a companion, after clearly explaining about her former companion and what she meant by that, Willow does this:
Quote:
I brooded over the word a moment. She seemed to have likened the term to mean roommate, which I certainly didn’t have, and answered so.




NOOOOO!!!!

*bangs head against wall*



But I really should have known better when Proper Bostonian Take Charge Tara came out to handle things:



“Willow, I fear I am going to have to be very plain with you.”



“Haven’t you been?”



“Not as plain as is apparently necessary, no.”



That did have me laughing though...Tara is soo laid back and patient, just how frustrating do you have to be to get her to be all firm and direct with you?



This was a really funny update though, and I have to say, I loved Willow diving into the bushes and eavesdropping at the window. Looks like she picked up a few things from Connor:p

And Willow allowing Giles to burn the purple socks as a reward for saving her biscuits! He must have done a proper heel click once he was out of everyones sight upon hearing that:D



Fantastic update and only one left? Hopefully Willow will go and track her down at the hotel.. maybe they can stay together since her Aunt Sheila will be trying to hunt her down. Not only is Lumpy going to join the Biz... but because of Willow reuniting her with Dan.. Jessica is signing back up!



Poor Willow, her world is crumbling and now so is her heart... where is Giles with a lifesaver when she needs him?







I learned how to tie a tie, without any live, personal demonstrations. The most mind boggling thing the average American guy has to do, I did successfully by myself within fifteen minutes. And so, I shall orient the tip of my nose toward the heavens, and lift my hat only to the man who can menstruate with the same ease. ~Ravenousgrape



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 Post subject: Re: Part Five Replies 2 and Part 6A
PostPosted: Sun Apr 24, 2005 1:06 am 
TBConcluded eh? Well I look forward to the conclusion although I will be sad to see it end. :(



Quote:
Suddenly, a horrifying thought struck me and sent my mood crumbling to a shambles. "Oh blast!"


Way to go Willow. Because she is so flighty she just took off to listen at the window after kissing Tara. Then of course forgets that she is engaged. But I can understand that one, I'd forget too if Tara asked to be my companion.



Blasted blighter Connor! And looks like we finally have left it to Giles. Way to go G-man for taking care of the parcel. However I suspect that we have not seen the last of it.



:bow



-wiccanbotanist

I like having low self-esteem, makes me feel special - Jane Lane (from Daria)

Sugas mea papilium (Suck my butterfly) - A Woman in Uniform by umgaynow

I used to be indecisive, but now I'm not so sure.



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 Post subject: Re: New Fic: Leave It to Giles
PostPosted: Sun Apr 24, 2005 1:36 am 
DarkWiccan-



This fic is hilarious. It reads like Merchant Ivory on acid. Or something.



I like the character play, and using Connor is quite clever. Leave it to the most annoying/paranoid character in all of Buffy/Angel-verse to get Willow in trouble with her uncle. Hoping for more, even though it's been intimated that it will end soon. Thanks for the story.



~ringwaldoeuvre



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 Post subject: Re: New Fic: Leave It to Giles
PostPosted: Sun Apr 24, 2005 7:51 am 
Firstly, hurrah, bully for you Giles old chap, you knew exactly what to do, and saved Willow so much unnecessary embarrassment.



Aunt Jessica and Dan Jenkin's reunion, hilarious! Poor Willow, not understanding any of it.



And Tara, poor poor Tara. Having to go into such depths to explain her situation to Willow, who was being very dense and as unsubtle as ... well, something extremely unsubtle. Even after a virtual plea and a lovely kiss, then what happens? Willow runs off to deal with her parcel dilemma, leaving Tara all alone. All through the Willoughby search and Giles coming to the rescue, all I could think about was Tara.



Now you've got to fix this. I'm hoping that on the way down from Easby to London, Giles and Tara has come up with a plan that will solve all problems and drive our hapless Willow into the arms of the lovely Tara Maclay.





------

quiet thoughts



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 Post subject: Re: Part Five Replies 2 and Part 6A
PostPosted: Sun Apr 24, 2005 8:54 am 
And the award for most dense narrator in a work of fan fiction goes to... Willow! Geez.
Quote:
“Willow, I fear I am going to have to be very plain with you.”



“Haven’t you been?”



“Not as plain as is apparently necessary, no.”
Go Tara! I mean how much more does she have to tell Willow? Perhaps if she had brought a book with illustrations or something? But then that would lend itself to an entire other farce about the book being lost and someone thinking it was a recipie book and giving it to the cook or something.



I can't imagine what was going on with Tara as she kissed Willow only to have Willow dive into a hedge and then run off to stop UW searching her room. How terrible for Tara although she seems to have taken that ditch perfectly well.



Again, I'm thrilled to have Giles on the case as he saved the parcel and no doubt will come up with a fitting plan and get W/T together. Sorry no time to write more. well done.

"The old ticky-tock was a blighted fool when it came to deucedly pretty girls. I’d spent countless hours trying my best to re-educate the organ to the proper ways of beating;" - Leave it to Giles by DarkWiccan

My latest story: Survivor - Ash Island



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 Post subject: Chapter 6b <The End>
PostPosted: Mon Apr 25, 2005 7:59 pm 
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Topics: 12
Location: Seattle, WA
Ok.. I will reply to responses in a bit... but first! The End!

Cheers

All Disclaimers Apply

___________________________________________________________________________________________

Daniel came back on Monday. I didn’t see him till we were all having tea in the hall. It wasn’t till the crowd had cleared away a bit that we got a chance of having a word together.

“Well, Willow?” he said.

“It’s all right.”

“You have destroyed the manuscript?”

“Not exactly; but—“

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I haven’t absolutely—“

“Willow, your manner is furtive!”

“It’s all right. It’s this way—“

And I was just going to explain how things stood when out of the library came leaping Uncle Willoughby looking as braced as a two-year-old. The old boy was a changed man.

“A most remarkable thing, Willow! I have just been speaking with Mr. Wolfram on the telephone, and he tells me he received my manuscript by the first post this morning. I cannot imagine what can have caused the delay. Our postal facilities are extremely inadequate in the rural districts. I shall write to headquarters about it. It is insufferable if valuable parcels are to be delayed in this fashion.”

I happened to look at Daniel’s profile at the moment, and at this juncture he swung round and gave me a look that went right through me like a knife. Uncle Willoughby meandered back to the library, and there was a silence that you could have dug bits out of with a spoon.

“I can’t understand it,” I said at last, “I can’t understand it, by Jove!”

“I can. I can understand it perfectly, Willow. Your heart failed you. Rather than risk offending your Uncle, you—“

“No, no! Absolutely!”

“You preferred to lose me rather than risk losing your money. Perhaps you did not think I meant what I said. I meant every word. Our engagement is ended.”

“But – I say!”

“Not another word!”

“But, Daniel, old thing!”

“I do not wish to hear any more. I see now that your Aunt Sheila was perfectly right. I consider that I have made a very lucky escape. There was a time when I thought that, with patience, you might be molded into something worthwhile. I see now that you are impossible!”

And he popped off, leaving me to pick up the pieces. When I had picked up the debris to some extent I went to my room and rang for Giles. He came in looking as if nothing had happened or was ever going to happen. He was the calmest thing in captivity.

“Giles!” I yelled. “Giles, that parcel has arrived in London!”

“Yes, miss?”

“Did you send it?”

“Yes, miss. I acted for the best, miss. I think that both you and Lord Osbourne overestimated the danger of people being offended at being mentioned in Sir Willoughby’s Recollections. It has been my experience, miss, that the normal person enjoys seeing his or her name in print, irrespective of what is said about them. I have an aunt, miss, who a few years ago was a martyr to swollen limbs. She tried Walkinshaw’s Supreme Ointment and obtained considerable relief – so much so that she sent them an unsolicited testimonial. Her pride at seeing her photograph in the daily papers in connection with descriptions of her lower limbs before taking, which were nothing less than revolting, was so intense that it led me to believe that publicity, of whatever sort, is what nearly everybody desires. Moreover, if you ever studied psychology, miss, you will know that respectable old gentlemen are by no means averse to having it advertised that they were extremely wild in their youth. I have an uncle – “

I cursed his aunts and uncles and all the rest of his family.

“Do you know that Lord Osbourne has broken off his engagement with me?”

“Indeed, miss?”

Not a bit of sympathy! I might have been telling him it was a fine day.

“You’re sacked!”

“Very good, miss.”

He coughed gently.

“As I am no longer in your employment, miss, I can speak freely without appearing to take liberty. In my opinion you and Lord Osbourne were unsuitably matched. His lordship is of a highly determined and arbitrary temperament, quite opposed to your own. I was in Lord Devonsmith’s service for nearly a year, during which time I had ample opportunities of studying Lord Osbourne. The opinion of the servants was far from favorable to him. His lordship’s temper caused a good deal of adverse comment among us. It was at times quite impossible. You would not have been happy, miss!”

“Get out!”

“I think you would have found his educational methods a little trying, miss. I have glanced at the book his lordship gave you – it has been lying on your table since our arrival – and it is, in my opinion, quite unsuitable. You would not have enjoyed it. And I have it from his lordship’s own man, who happened to overhear a conversation between his lordship and one of the gentlemen staying here that it was his intention to start you almost immediately upon Nietzsche. You would not enjoy Nietzsche, miss. He is fundamentally unsound.”

“Get out!”

“Very good, miss.”

*****

It’s rummy how sleeping on a thing often makes you feel quite different about it. It’s happened to me over and over again. Somehow or other, when I woke up the next morning the old heart didn’t feel half so broken as it had done. It was a perfectly topping day, and there was something about the way the sun came in at the window and the row the birds were kicking up in the ivy that made me half wonder whether Giles wasn’t right. After all, though he had a wonderful profile, was it such a catch being engaged to Daniel Osbourne as the casual observer might imagine? Wasn’t there something in what Giles had said about his character? I began to realize that my ideal husband was something quite different, something a lot more clinging and drooping and prattling, and what-not.

I had got as far as this in thinking the thing out when “Types of Ethical Theory” caught my eye. I opened it, and I give you my honest word, this is what hit me:

Of the two antithetic terms in the Greek philosophy one only was real and self-subsisting; and that one was Ideal Thought as opposed to that which it has to penetrate and mould. The other, corresponding to our Nature, was in itself phenomenal, unreal, without any permanent footing, having no predicates that held true for two moments together; in short, redeemed from negation only by including indwelling realities appearing through.

Well – I mean to say –what? And Nietzsche, from all accounts, a lot worse than that!

“Giles,” I said, when he came in with my morning tea, “I’ve been thinking it over. You’re engaged again.”

“Thank you, miss.”

I sucked down a cheerful mouthful. A great respect for this bloke’s judgment began to soak through me.

“Giles. Pack our things. We’re returning to London.”

“Very good, miss. I’ll just ring ahead.”

“Ring ahead? Whatever for?”

“To notify Miss Maclay of your impending arrival, miss. I installed her into the guest quarters of your apartment yesterday.”

“You did what?”

“It seemed most prudent, miss. It occurred to me that it would not only benefit your allowance, but Miss Maclay does, in all respects, seem a more suitable companion for you, miss.”

“Companion, Giles?”

“Yes, miss.”

I was most awfully moved, don’t you know, by the way Giles had rallied round.

“Oh, Giles,” I said; “about that check dress.”

“Yes, miss?”

“Is it really a frost?”

“A trifle too bizarre, miss, in my opinion.”

“But lots of ladies have asked me who my seamstress is.”

“Doubtless in order to avoid her, miss.”

“She’s supposed to be one of the best in London.”

“I am saying nothing against her moral character, miss.”

I hesitated a bit. I had a feeling I was passing into this chappie’s clutches, and that if I gave in now I should become just like poor old Andrew Lenkergill, unable to call my soul my own. On the other hand, this was obviously a cove of rare intelligence, and it would be a comfort in a lot of ways to have him doing the thinking for me. Besides, something seemed that this was an occasion that called for rich rewards. I made up my mind.

“All right, Giles,” I said. “You know! Give the bally thing away to somebody!”

He looked down at me like a father gazing tenderly at the wayward child.

“Thank you, miss. I gave it to the cook last night. A little more tea, miss?”


The End.

_________________
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 Post subject: Re: New Fic: Leave It to Giles
PostPosted: Mon Apr 25, 2005 8:16 pm 
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6. Sassy Eggs

Joined: Sun Apr 24, 2005 1:47 pm
Posts: 499
finally i have an excuse for slow feedback, there was nowhere to leave it-but now i can happily bestow my virgin post on this new board.
there were so many perfect moments in this fic, but my very favorite is the highly innefectual firing of giles. i was worried willow would need to seek him out to make amends, but there he was with her morning tea, and giving away her clothes. i could quibble and wish that we actually got to see willow and tara reunite, not that it was neccessary for the plot at all, i just love how you write this and write them together. you've created such a unique universe here for them, and i'd love to see the spectacle of the pending weddings. it's a testament to how well you've imagined this world that i hate to see it end. wonderful~mary


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 Post subject: Re: New Fic: Leave It to Giles
PostPosted: Mon Apr 25, 2005 9:07 pm 
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Location: Idaho
Looks like we left it up to Giles didn't we? I'll first say "Go Giles!" :clap A very smart man. I had a feeling that book was going to get through and things would sort themselves out the way they should be.

And last but not least a bit :clap :bow :dance to DW for writing another excellent fic. I have a feeling this is going to be one of those classics that people will say "What you haven't read it yet?" I'm sad it has come to an end and I won't be a trifle disappointed if you felt the need to maybe do a short piece giving us a view into their new lives. :-D (hint hint)

-wiccanbotanist

_________________
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 Post subject: Re: New Fic: Leave It to Giles
PostPosted: Mon Apr 25, 2005 10:37 pm 
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7. Teeny Tinkerbell Light
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Posts: 551
Location: Austin, Texas
DW, this is simply fantastic!

I've been lurking around pens for ages but I've never replied to anything cuz I've always been to shy. But I had to delurk for this fabulousness of a story.

I've cut through this wonderful story like butter, in one go, and I've been smiling so hard the entire time that my face hurts. There are way to many line that I love, and I'd take forever to comment on each and every one, so I won't. I love the pace, the jargon, the setting...... basically, I love everything about this.

Keep up the great work!


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