5 More Examples Of The Greatness Of Open On Sunday
In no particular order :
...
Set just before the opening of Season 6
Rating: G
All Used Up by spuffyduds
The cute guy one desk over leans toward Dawn, whispers, “Doncha just hate math?”
And she doesn’t. Doesn’t have any hate left for math, because she hates that she has a cross on her neck and a stake in her pocket, and she hates that Cute Guy would never believe her life and she can’t stop envying his, and most of all she hates that her mother is gone and her sister is gone, that every day she goes home to a robot who won’t stop smiling at her, and-
“Yeah,” she says, tries to grin. “Bane of my existence.”
https://open-on-sunday.livejournal.com/1963772.html
The New Generation by shinodabear
Earth. The first frontier.
These are the battles of the heroes, the Slayers.
It is their lifelong mission
To protect this planet,
To explore the rumor of every apocalypse,
To seek out all evildoers and power-hungry bad guys,
To boldly stake vampires where no Slayer has staked before.
“Andrew?” Giles removed his glasses.
“Yes, Mr. Giles?”
“When I asked for business cards, I meant a small slogan. A memorable one. An original one. Not . . . Never mind. I’ll ask Dawn.”
“I rather liked the little uber-vamp in the spaceship.” Andrew smiled, pointing to the doodle in the corner.
https://open-on-sunday.livejournal.com/1860578.html
Absence by twilightofmagic
A rose. Red as heart's blood.
Giles lifted the unfurling bud to his nose and inhaled, letting the fragrance fill his senses. His mother grew this variety, Etoile de Hollande. As a child, he'd hidden in the rose arbour, tucked away and lost in tales of far-away lands. Even now, his imagination roused at the rich perfume.
She was upstairs.
Giles' heart turned in his chest, groin warming in anticipation. Jenny waiting. For him. Unlooked for love and a new first time for the old heart. He moved up the staircase, hope blossoming. Against all expectation, life was good.
https://open-on-sunday.livejournal.com/1821367.html
Confessional by hesadevil
The sound of weeping drifted through the open door, up the stairs towards the woman huddled in the corner of the darkened bedroom.
“I’m sorry, Father. I tried to make it stop, truly.” Drusilla rocked rhythmically against the headboard, clutching her rosary tighter, slipping each blood-slicked bead through fumbling fingers as she prayed. “Through my fault.”
In the drawing room below, her mother held the body of another daughter close, sheltering her from further onslaught from the beast that had ripped out her throat. The child was torn from her arms, tossed aside. Tears turned to screams.
“Mea máxima culpa.”
https://open-on-sunday.livejournal.com/1794940.html
Mea Culpa by debg
So many, so many, so many.
An elegant headstone, embellished with cherubim, somewhere in an English churchyard. What had her name been - Samantha?
A black urn, on another Watcher's desk somewhere: the last one Spike killed, on an E train in Manhattan.
A Jamaican girl with her neck broken, eyes sightless toward heaven, buried in an unmarked grave.
Now this one, the one that hurts, the one that breaks him: Buffy Summers, She saved the world, a lot.
History is tears and dead girls. So many, and all happening under the care of a Watcher who can't be blamed.
https://open-on-sunday.livejournal.com/1796162.html
And a bonus item
A translation of the prompt . . .
When In Rome by shinodabear
Everything within a hundred-foot radius was scorched. The stench of burnt hair and flesh wafted into homes kilometers away. The sound of sizzling was louder than a whole swarm of bees. And in all of that mess, our hero stood, sipping the last of his Sprite.
“Well, that went well.” Andrew dug out his cell phone, dialing Buffy. “Ciao mia Slayer bella. There was an eensy problem with getting the demons-with-the-totally-unpronounceable-names to stop with the midnight sacrifices. I may have taken out the entire block. Mia colpa. Giles doesn’t have to know, right? Your boyfriend can take care of it?”
https://open-on-sunday.livejournal.com/1795521.html
...
Set just before the opening of Season 6
Rating: G
All Used Up by spuffyduds
The cute guy one desk over leans toward Dawn, whispers, “Doncha just hate math?”
And she doesn’t. Doesn’t have any hate left for math, because she hates that she has a cross on her neck and a stake in her pocket, and she hates that Cute Guy would never believe her life and she can’t stop envying his, and most of all she hates that her mother is gone and her sister is gone, that every day she goes home to a robot who won’t stop smiling at her, and-
“Yeah,” she says, tries to grin. “Bane of my existence.”
https://open-on-sunday.livejournal.com/1963772.html
The New Generation by shinodabear
Earth. The first frontier.
These are the battles of the heroes, the Slayers.
It is their lifelong mission
To protect this planet,
To explore the rumor of every apocalypse,
To seek out all evildoers and power-hungry bad guys,
To boldly stake vampires where no Slayer has staked before.
“Andrew?” Giles removed his glasses.
“Yes, Mr. Giles?”
“When I asked for business cards, I meant a small slogan. A memorable one. An original one. Not . . . Never mind. I’ll ask Dawn.”
“I rather liked the little uber-vamp in the spaceship.” Andrew smiled, pointing to the doodle in the corner.
https://open-on-sunday.livejournal.com/1860578.html
Absence by twilightofmagic
A rose. Red as heart's blood.
Giles lifted the unfurling bud to his nose and inhaled, letting the fragrance fill his senses. His mother grew this variety, Etoile de Hollande. As a child, he'd hidden in the rose arbour, tucked away and lost in tales of far-away lands. Even now, his imagination roused at the rich perfume.
She was upstairs.
Giles' heart turned in his chest, groin warming in anticipation. Jenny waiting. For him. Unlooked for love and a new first time for the old heart. He moved up the staircase, hope blossoming. Against all expectation, life was good.
https://open-on-sunday.livejournal.com/1821367.html
Confessional by hesadevil
The sound of weeping drifted through the open door, up the stairs towards the woman huddled in the corner of the darkened bedroom.
“I’m sorry, Father. I tried to make it stop, truly.” Drusilla rocked rhythmically against the headboard, clutching her rosary tighter, slipping each blood-slicked bead through fumbling fingers as she prayed. “Through my fault.”
In the drawing room below, her mother held the body of another daughter close, sheltering her from further onslaught from the beast that had ripped out her throat. The child was torn from her arms, tossed aside. Tears turned to screams.
“Mea máxima culpa.”
https://open-on-sunday.livejournal.com/1794940.html
Mea Culpa by debg
So many, so many, so many.
An elegant headstone, embellished with cherubim, somewhere in an English churchyard. What had her name been - Samantha?
A black urn, on another Watcher's desk somewhere: the last one Spike killed, on an E train in Manhattan.
A Jamaican girl with her neck broken, eyes sightless toward heaven, buried in an unmarked grave.
Now this one, the one that hurts, the one that breaks him: Buffy Summers, She saved the world, a lot.
History is tears and dead girls. So many, and all happening under the care of a Watcher who can't be blamed.
https://open-on-sunday.livejournal.com/1796162.html
And a bonus item
A translation of the prompt . . .
When In Rome by shinodabear
Everything within a hundred-foot radius was scorched. The stench of burnt hair and flesh wafted into homes kilometers away. The sound of sizzling was louder than a whole swarm of bees. And in all of that mess, our hero stood, sipping the last of his Sprite.
“Well, that went well.” Andrew dug out his cell phone, dialing Buffy. “Ciao mia Slayer bella. There was an eensy problem with getting the demons-with-the-totally-unpronounceable-names to stop with the midnight sacrifices. I may have taken out the entire block. Mia colpa. Giles doesn’t have to know, right? Your boyfriend can take care of it?”
https://open-on-sunday.livejournal.com/1795521.html