Hiraeth (pronounced [hiraɪ̯θ])

    AUTHOR: kerk_hiraeth

    'VERSE: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (post-series)

    CHARACTERS: Buffy Summers, Rupert Giles, Dawn Summers, Willow Rosenberg, Kennedy, Riley Finn, Sam Finn, Xander Harris (r.i.p.); and a cameo by the Obamas

    LENGTH: 100;

    A/N: This was written for the open_on_sunday prompt (un)dress and first posted on the 26^th of January 2014.

             I think my first idea for this was as a coda to Right Hand Man, but it became more of a standalone; though it did lead to an idea that came to fruition when I began writing my Tara/Faith stories.

             I confess to having to suppress the urge to correct the spolling of some the words in order to 'honour' the identities of all but Rupert 'those bloody colonials' Giles {smiley and/or winky face emojis here}

     Silently the honor guard assembled.

   Eighteen of them; four to a coffin, except one.

   Buffy wore a black dress of her mother's; Giles a simple black suit.
   In front of them Sam bore a simple black beret; adorned by a Lavender bloom.

   She nodded in recognition, then raised the ceremonial sword.

   Willow left her partner's side; joining Dawn next to them.

   A finely held African American couple, in dress suits saluted, before handing a flag to Sam's Husband.
   Riley, in dress uniform, raised the flag to the last post.

   Kennedy joined on her bagpipes.

   And a carpenter was laid to rest.

    Goddess watch over you, 

    kerk

    AUTHOR: kerk_hiraeth

    'VERSE: Buffy S7 & Angel S5 Crossover (sort of)

    CHARACTERS: Xander Harris, Dawn Summers, Cordelia Chase, Angel,

    LENGTH: tbc;

    A/N: This was the eleventh fic written as part of my 2013 fic challenge to myself; posted on the 15^th of January it was an attempt to resolve a plot anomaly that I perceived in the story of Cordelia Chase's relationship with Xander Harris.

            It was also written as a birthday present for angelus2hot, who is still posting to ao3, but hasn't posted to dreamwidth for quite some time. 

           WARNING: Decided I needed to pop a warning here; since I don't know the laws there is an implication that Dawn might be drinking underage. Just to be clear, she isn't. The implication is that she has in the past, not that she is doing it now. 

     “There's a letter from Angel, “Dawn, between bites of her buttered toast, informed Xander as he sar beside her; looking a little surprised he took the envelope she held out.

   “There's me thinking he'd got the hang of texting, “ he muttered sourly.

   She sighed; those two would never be friends, no matter how many times they had fought 'soul sucking demons' side by side.

   “Where's Buff? “

   “Change of plans, “ she informed him as he reached for a letter opener. “Kenn got a call from home, so Buffy took her ticket so she and Willow are going to the show together. “

   When he didn't have a joke to make about them going to a lesbian strip show together she took her eyes from what she was watching, on silent, and saw the shocked expression on his face.

   “What's wrong?

      … She closed the laptop.

         Xander? What is it? “

   When he stayed frozen, she took the letter from his fingers.

   Shakily he told her, “It's from... about Cordy. “

   “Cordelia Chase? Why... but she... “

   She read the part of the letter, which was written on two different types of paper, from Angel she was almost rendered speechless herself.

   Angel had written that they had found a letter that Cordelia had written a long time ago, but had tried to finish during the brief time she had before she ascended.

   “You okay? “ She touched his hand; resisting the temptation to touch his cheek with her crumb covered fingers.

   His face was shocked and drawn.

   When he finally managed to shake his head she began to stand up, telling him, “I'll get you a whisky; figured out the combination ages ago, “ secretly pleased that Xander was with it enough to both scowl and query. “Don't tell Buffy. “

   He saw her wink before she left the room, then shakily picking up Cordy's letter to start reading it again.

   Hi Xander,

                     I'm really sorry I've not written a letter before. It didn't seem so important, but I regret not keeping in touch now. I guess you've heard by now I've got some kind of baby demon inside of me now.

   Must be weird to hear me saying that I could refuse a chance at fame and fortune so I could fight the fight like some kind of... Buffy

    {can't remember how to write one of those smile face things so you'll have to imagine it}

   Even weirder that I did it to save Angel. I know you'll not be happy about that, but he really is in the same fight you and Buffy are; though he seems not to see that too well sometimes.

   Anyway this demon thing is causing me problems I don't want to tell the others about

    if you tell on me remember I've got a few secrets I can tell Buffy and Willow about you so SHUSH!

   M'kay?

   He smiled at that; hiding it before Dawn came back and handed him a tumbler with a healthy level of, neat, whisky. She put a finger to her lips as he accepted it; reminder that she had a secret too now.

   She went over to the hotplate and made him up a plate of bacon, mushrooms and eggs; placing it in front of him as she went to make them some coffee; keeping an unsubtle eye on him as he went back to reading the letter; uncertain she'd get an answer if she knew she could ask.

   Her eyes said his no jokes demeanour was worrying her, but he couldn't find the will to hide right now.

    I wanted to say something just in case.

   I loved you.

   I never said it, but I did. Guess I still do in some ways, because all this … I've been through so much but I had a lot … I realised my feelings for Doyle came from me seeing you in him.

   I laughed out loud once imagining you joking about me joining your demon gf club.

   I   I cried about it too.

   He was like an older version of you. I think that's why I was falling in love with him.

   I have a type apparently and you are it.

   Bet you never thought a girl would say that to you, huh?

   How did I end up never sleeping with either of the men I actually loved?

     Good going, Chase!

   Not that we didn't do st

   I regret that now, especially after I heard about Faith.

   If it means anything It's because I loved you and was dumb enough to think I had time.

   Not that you didn't screw us up, you rat bastard but it's too late for any of that now.

   I know we both wanted to and what makes it hurt now is that you never tried to force anything even knowing I was hardly a virgin.

   I'm sad now we never made love; that I never got to make love with someone who actually loved me.

   Guess I wasn't as mature as I thought I was.

   Or you as it turns out.

   I just wanted you to know that if the

    Then she made a note to rewrite most of that; saying something about a special man; then there was something about a special person; several attempts to write about being a better person because of them.

   Then she'd scribbled something about forgiving him, or not forgiving him; he couldn't make most of it out.

   Finally there was a line asking herself if she could ever send this.

   Xander stopped and ate the food Dawn had given him as she drank her coffee and watched him eat, for once not making him self-concious.

   She made to pick the letter up; the second note of Angel's, clearly asking with her eyes if it was okay. He gave her a ... well he hoped it was melancholic, smile to let her know to go ahead.

   After a quick read she started to read it aloud.

   “I wasn't sure whether to send this but Gunn said you had the right to see it, and the others agreed so I decided to send it despite my reservations.

   We believe she tried to write it several times but never found the time to finish it, or get it right.

   It doesn't seem to matter much now.

   I think she was trying to find a way of saying how special you were to all of us who knew you, whether we liked each other or not.

   I miss her blunt honesty more and more with each day I head along the path she set me back on; wherever it leads I have her to thank.

   So I wanted to say one thing before I finish.

     Fan sábháilte a chara, tar anall agus bíodh bábhla anraith agat ag mo theallach; lig dúinn beoir agus deoch a roinnt dár gcuimhni cinn uirthi.

    Yours, my friend. 

    Liam aka Angel

   Dawn handed it to him when he finished eating and he folded it; picked up the whisky and walked to the back door and went out into the garden.

   She left him alone as she cleared everything away; leaving the clean up to the Potential on kitchen wash up duty in the morning.

   When she looked through the open door she saw the shudder in his slumped shoulders she made a sudden decision.

   Coming back a few minutes later she heard the potentials she'd called back from patrol coming in through the front door and joined Xander; handing him a jacket after taking the barely touched whisky from his hand.

   “Feel like some comfort food? Let's go get pizza from that place you wanted to take Cordelia.”

   He just nodded as she tucked her arm in his and pulled him after her.

    Goddess watch over you, 


     “ What we once enjoyed

        and deeply loved we

         can never lose, for all

          that we love deeply

           becomes part of us. “

 

      ~ Helen Keller

    kerk 

     TITLE: Inside Knowledge

     AUTHOR: kerk-hiraeth

     LENGTH: 100;

     'VERSE: Missing scene for S7 (post ep.11, Showtime);

     CHARACTERS: Xander Harris, Buffy Summers, Dawn Summers, Rona;

     A/N: Cannot remember specifically why this was written, but it was written for the Open on Sunday prompt, 'Strip' so I can only conclude my mind went speedily on it's way to Oxnard, California...

     Music swam through the night air as the stripper removed their clothes with 'practised' smoothness, and well dressed woman took off her glasses and licked her lips in anticipation as the stripper swayed erotically before her.

   Behind her; unseen, Rona silently raised long sword and swung it, expertly decapitating the 'woman' with a single blow.

   Buffy smirked as everyone else was drenched when her demon blood sprayed them.

   “I told you Ms. Palin was a demon,” Dawn groaned.

   “Yeah, yeah, “ Xander moaned, shivering. “Can I put my clothes back on now?”

   Buffy just smiled innocently.

    ~

     This was first posted in May of 2011 on Lj, and is lightly edited; New Orleans Saints logo because they had pre-season training in Oxnard before the 2011 regular NFL season. 

   ~

      Exotic

    Please bless me sweet

    Flutter of your eyelid

    Last night I dreamt about you

    As my beautiful bride

    Throw at me a look filled

    With love and care

    Make a shed over my face

    With your dense hair

    Come to me to share love

    Under the starlit night

    A beauty like you will make

    My heart dance in delight

  Tiky akp

      Exotic Poem by Anil Kumar Panda

     Goddess watch over you,

     kerk hiraeth

     AUTHOR: kerk hiraeth

     FANDOM: Buffy the Vampire Slayer; 

     RATING: NC-17; 

     LENGTH: 650;

     CHARACTER(s): Kennedy; Tara Maclay; 

     SHIP(s): Willow/Kennedy (future); Tara Maclay (past;

    SUMMARY: Translating people's love language can, on occasion, make the Kobiyashi Maru look easy.

    A/N: Still not sure I have a handle on which Buffyverse of mine this belongs in but, given the date when the Rupi Kaur poetry rupikaur.com/pages/milk-and-honey-books was published the earliest date for this scene is 2015. That, at least, fits in with the fic I posted for Day One's The Innocent Prompt.

     “Hair, “

   Ignoring by the sound of her locker door being closed Kennedy; not bothered enough to cover herself, simply continued to towel herself down as she walked out of the showers.

   She came to a sharp stop when she saw who was waiting there though.

   Sat right in front of her locker.

   She was just sat there.

   Studying her.

   Checking her out?

   She barely moved as Kenn advanced on her carefully, until she was standing over her antagonist.

   Bitch actually licked her lips; not bothering to pretend where she was looking, just slid out of Kenn's way so the slayer could get to her locker.

   Instead of her underwear Kenn turned from her locker with a note 'twixt her fingers.

   Why the fuck had phrase it like that?

   “You were saying? “ She asked out loud.

   Brazenly licking her lips again, Tara Maclay raised her eyes to meet Kennedy's before she stood; staring right into them.

    ''hair

      if it was not supposed to be there

      would not be growing

      on our bodies in the first place''

   Whatever that was supposed to mean had nothing to do with the obvious.

   “Thus spake zarathustra, “ Kenn responded, at which Tara grinned.

Kenn had the feeling she had somehow passed some kind of test. Unable to stop herself she glanced down at her groin.

   “You approve?”

   Dilated pupils notwithstanding her antagonist said nothing, simply leaning in and laying a kiss on the Kennedy's cheek; away from the fingers holding the note.

   Inaudibly, but for proximity, she simply stated, “She lied to you.”

   She knew.

   Then her eyes seemed to go quiet and she started to walk away.

   Just as she appeared about to reach for the handle of the inner door she turned her head slightly; enough for Kenn to see a deeply saddened, melancholic, smile on her face.

   “I didn't...”

   Tara turned her face toward Kennedy; eyes looking pained and resigned.

   “Take care of her. “

   She spoke as softly she had when Kenn could feel her breath, but Kenn could hear her clearly.

   “I don't understand why she'd want you to believe she was cheating.”

   She snorted, or tried to stifle a laugh; Kenn couldn't tell for sure.

   She couldn't find the words either.

   Why... why would she?

   Then Tara was standing right in front of her; reaching out and pinching the note from her fingers. Staring deep into Kennedy's eyes she unfolded the note; turned it text facing her and returned it to Kennedy's hand,

   “She's not my problem anymore.”

   Take care of her.

   For me.

   Kenn watched her; speechless, walk funereal over to the inner door.

   Take care of her.

   For myself?

   Grasping the handle; door opening, Tara seemed to be pausing.

   Considering.

   Fascinated, Kenn watched the decision being processed.

   She was still caught by surprise.

   “You never stop loving her.”

   Statement?

   Warning?

   Kennedy couldn't tell if she was even the one Tara was talking to.

   Tara opened the door and, before she closed it behind her looked Kennedy in the eye again.

   “Oxford. 

     Near Lady Margaret's Hall. 

       She won't listen, but tell her not to contact me. 

         I - I'll do that when I am ready.” 

   As she turned away for the final time she spoke once more.

   “I broke up with her months ago... 

    and 

    Green?” 

   Then she shrugged and closed the door with a final wink and a smirk.

   Kenn heard her ~ was she skipping? ~ walk away down the corridor to the outer door.

   She was whistling.

   Kenn had never heard her whistle.

   Not recognising the tune*; sounded mediaeval, she found herself committing it to memory.

   If Tara was sending her a message she probably needed to decipher this entire locker room talk.

   She understood why this quiet, startlingly unassuming, woman commanded such fierce, and unswerving, loyalty at least.

   When she gave in to the need to breathe the silence, interrupted, was suddenly deafening.

   Kenn finally took a look at the note.

   Whatever it meant it was not for her.

   “losing you

    was the becoming

    of myself”

   Kennedy let out a loud snort and glanced downward. 
 

   “Tell me something. 

     ¿Por qué decidí teñirte?” 

     Goddess watch over you,

      Rupi Kaur
                      ~ foreword note, 
                         'the poems
                          they're falling out of me 
                          like Rain.'  

                      (April 3rd, 2014. 10.33 pm) 




      { right now I feel like I know what she meant } 

     kerk

     * This www.youtube.com/watch is the tune that Tara is whisling at the end. Read into that what you choose. 

     AUTHOR: kerk hiraeth

     FANDOM: Buffy the Vampire Slayer; 

     CHARACTERS: OC's; Fatima El-baz & Sofia Blazhevich (Senior Chaplain & Junior Slayer respectively); 

     'VERSE: Not set in stone, but fanon-adjacent to Jet Wolf's much-mourned Chosenverse;  

     RATING: PG-13; 

     WORD COUNT: 1,000; 

     NOTES: Started well before this year's Halfamoon this story ended up fitting the day three prompt (The Caregiver) perfectly.

                   Unlike most of my fics this one has a very specific date as it is set on the morning (in the area of Pennsylvania where Slayer HQ is situated) of the passing of Pope Francis on the 21^st April last year. Thus it's important that this is very much dedicated to me greatest supporter, elisi, and as begun a few days after that date, but before his successor, Leo XIV, was elected.

     I have a very extensive backstory for the chaplain; have her appearing in a couple of stories before this, all written a long time ago now. This is however the first time she has been a central character, though I have drafts for several ideas in several notebooks.

    Sofia is a new character, certainly my newest Buffy character and was born, given her age her, several years after the show's conclusion, and a few years after the Slayer HQ as created in Jet Wolf's Chosen!verse was established.

    ADDENDUM: This will also be posted for this year's halfamoon, which starts tomorrow ~or today~ depending on when I post this on my Dreamwidth and when I post it there.

     Sofia stumbled into her office just before Dawn. 
 

   And just after Dawn as it should happen. 
 

   Fatima Amastan Sultana Sara Tirzah Elbaz, known as Queenie to most of those for whom she was Chaplain, replaced the receiver she had been about to use and immediately devoted all her attention to the young Slayer. 
 

   Nothing could have happened to her girlfriend who; as with her own partner; Praise be to Allah she should return safely her arms, was embedded in a war zone. 
 

   She knew where both were and Buffy would hardly have left her in the dark if something had happened.

   As Sofia composed herself, it also occurred to her that her girlfriend; several years older than her and deeply embedded in occupied territory not far from Sofia's birthplace.

   No, whatever was distressing her, that was not it. She began to boil some water; waiting to ask if the girl wanted some green tea, or maybe some of the Black tea she might be more comforted by. 

   Patiently she helped the girl into a sofa chair she kept in her office and knelt, as was her fashion, and held Sofia's hand as she calmed down. 

   Finally she felt able to ask, “What is it, tafruxt?” 

   She was relieved to see Sofia manage a slightly embarrassed smile. 
   The girl spoke softly; sounding strained, naturally enough. “Pomer Papa Frantsysk... “ adding after a moment, possibly seeing her slight confusion. “The Pope has died. “ 

   She recalled Sofia's arrival; barely fourteen years old, more than five years before now, and nodded in understanding.

   The confusion returned however; wasn't Sofia Russian, and agnostic? 

   Sofia actually managed a grin at her expression, “I'm Catholic, “ reminding the Chaplain, “My family was allowed to move to Vasylivka not long before Krushchev died. “ 

   She nodded, recalling now that, though Sofia rarely attended Mass, she felt unusally comfortable being ministered to by someone who wasn't actually Catholic. A click made her rise and a raspy voice answered her unasked query, “Chornyy chay... bez lymona. “ She managed a smile and filled the old ceramic teapot her father had given her before she had boarded a ship heading for Sicily on her long journey to Pennsylvania. 

   As the tea steeped she recovered some sugar and placed it in a woven wicker bowl lined with Goat's kidskin, a gift from her best friend at the academy where she had trained. 

   She softly recited some of Surah Maryam for both her and her father; neither of whom she ever expected to see again. She repeated the words for her beloved; Sofia and her beloved. 

   Placing the pot and bowl on a wooden tray and carefully carried them over to where Sofia seemed lost in contemplation and placed them on the wooden table Yehudit had given her when they had spoken their commitments to each other. 

   Judith and Sara, as they referred to each other, could not be married by each other's faith, so their ceremony had been private and held near a waterfall out by Buttermilk Falls. 

   Sara held Sofia's hands and they held a silent blessing before she knelt down again. 

   While the tea steeped properly they discussed what Sofia wanted to do.

   Sara told her she would be hosting a mass if Sofia wanted to attend.

   She did not.

   Sara offered Sofia a private prayer session if Sofia was willing to teach her the Ukrainian.

   Sofia declined the latter but a simple latin prayer would be okay.

   Sensing Sofia's hesitancy she recalled her own need for comfort; especially since her habibti was so far from her. 

   Struggling with the knowledge that her habibti might be startlingly close to where Sofia had grown up, and just maybe was engaged in aiding Sofia's own family, she kept her bond; returning her mind to something more comforting for them both, 

   “You know my wife is Jewish? “ Sofia was perplexed; everyone knew that.

   Gently patting Sofia's hand Sara illucidated, “Every year, we go somewhere remote and commemorate the liberation of Auschwitz, Usually,” she added, getting up to find cups.

   Warming them, Sara informed her, “we plant bushes or trees; release fish or other creatures back into their natural environment.

   Sometimes we make love by an open fire and say the kaddish ... “ 

   Fearing she had spoken a little too freely she was relieved Sofia seemed not to have not heard.

   “You know the Kaddish? “ 


   The young woman wiped a tear away.

   “My father was taught the Yiddish when he was a child so he could assist with the Kaddish over the last survivor of the heto that had been close to where my family lived when we first moved to Vasilyvka. He believed those times should never be forgotten.“

   As Sofia thought of her father, Sara kept a warm smile to herself thinking on her own.

   “Well I don't know the yiddish but if I speak the hebrew; you the yiddish...? “

   Sofia seemed to come alive with that thought; one of her own following quickly, “By the sapling? Tomorrow at dawn? “

   It was times like this that she felt blessed by her vocation.

   Sara poured the tea; adding more sugar than she should, but only as much as Sofia did.

   She preferred honey with her tea, but Sofia was who mattered on this occasion. Sara could already see her gaining a sense of strength from this talk.

   Fatima Amastan Sultana Sara Tirzah Elbaz, known as Queenie to those for whom she was Chaplain, felt something of the same herself; owning some comfort too in the belief she would be hold her habibti when she returned home; promising a prayer for the safe return from the Sudan for Sofia's girlfriend.

   She heard the echo of her father and her friend's voices, reminding her she still needed to call a Priest to hold the Mass for Pope Francis; in that moment too she felt the warmth of her father's gentle pride in her, and the warmth of her best friend's acceptance. 





    Goddess watch over you, 

     ' Sweet the rains new fall, sunlit from Heaven
     Like the first dewfall on the first grass 
     Praise for the sweetness of the wet garden 
     Sprung in completeness where His feet pass ' 
 
    kerk 
 

   addendum 1 ~ Surah 19: Maryam Ayat 96 

     
       إِنَّ ٱلَّذِينَ ءَامَنُوا۟ وَعَمِلُوا۟ ٱلصَّٰلِحَٰتِ سَيَجْعَلُ لَهُمُ ٱلرَّحْمَٰنُ وُدًّا

   addendum  2 ~ lyrics which provided the title of this story... 




     Morning Has Broken (1971) by Cat Stevens (latterly Yusuf Islam)

   Morning has broken like the first morning
   Blackbird has spoken like the first bird
   Praise for the singing, praise for the morning
   Praise for them springing fresh from the world

   Sweet the rains new fall, sunlit from Heaven
   Like the first dewfall on the first grass
   Praise for the sweetness of the wet garden
   Sprung in completeness where His feet pass

   Mine is the sunlight, mine is the morning
   Born of the one light, Eden saw play
   Praise with elation, praise every morning
   God's recreation of the new day

   Morning has broken like the first morning
   Blackbird has spoken like the first bird
   Praise for the singing, praise for the morning
   Praise for them springing fresh from the world

     AUTHOR: kerk hiraeth

     FANDOM: Buffy the Vampire Slayer

     'VERSE: Unofficially titled PrezKenn!verse as the very first fic was set after Kennedy had been elected President of the United States; this fic is set many year prior when a cold war between the remnants of the old Council of Watchers and their allies and the Council of Slayers set up by Willow & Giles; ancilliary organisations and their allies. This in AU continuation following a different conclusion to S4's body swap story.*

     LENGTH: 350,

     CHARACTER(s): OC; Willow; Kennedy;

     SHIP(s): Willow/Kennedy;

     SUMMARY: Amongst all the Slayers born into new powers; what happens to those who are alone; untrained and unfound. This is an account of one such abandoned innocent.

     A/N: Updated #1 ~ In this 'verse Tara is alive, but long separated from Willow and the Faith/Buffy bodyswap was not reversed, and few of the TV show's main characters believe Buffy is still alive, Faith & Tara, who are allies of the Council of Slayers which came into being after the destruction of Sunnydale (several years in time later than in canon) are the only ones actively searching for her with some agnostic aid from a few others).

             Updated #2 ~ Originally my headcanon had this set in the USA during the summer of 2020. The date stands, but I am disturbed by how much more relevant it feels to the current state of that country, or indeed the world, from the streets of Iran to Minneapolis; who knows how many other places could be added.

             Updated #3 ~ Dedicated to the hundreds of thousands of deaths from the destruction that happened to create Central Park and Tulsa City massacres to Tiananmen Square and Tahrir Square; from the resource created horrors of Gaza; Sudan; Timor; Rwanda and the Congo.

             Updated #4 ~ Re-dedicated to George Floyd & Sandra Bland; Marsha P. Thompson & Sylvia Rivera and all they represent. Newly dedicated to Keith Porter; Renée Good & Alex Pretti and all the un-named or unknown victims of the monstrosity in the House of Bones in DC* and, I fear, the victims to come of the insanity of the rise of the fascist sycophantic followers of the Faragist party festering even here in Scotland.

             Updated #5 ~ Image used originally as, in my headcanon, the un-named main character was a refugee from the Rohingya being decimated by the military government of Myanmar.

             ps. Vote DC https://www.dcvote.org/

   This is not a happy story with a happy ending.

     She did not know where she was.

   Cool, with none of the humid warmth she was used to.

   Home.

   She remembered a home.

   Not the place of her birth.

   Even her Sister had not had that memory.

   Death met in a boat's depths.

   Tossed overboard; cursed wastage.

   She had a name too.

   Nought the Men cared.

   A real name.

   She had forgotten her own as well.

   It was dark here.

   Cold and harsh.

   Sharpness slashing her feet.

   Steadily down; step after painful, bloodied step.

   Shock froze her as she felt freedom's grasp.

   And took her; disoriented, toward a sea of noise.

   Turned a corner; into crashing waves of people.

   She had not conceived the world held so many.

   The camp had not prepared her.

   They had reached water and found Hell.

   Toes touched cold, hard glass.

   Reaching down she picked up the bottle.

   She drank.

   It burned bitter, but it refreshed.

   She sensed the ebbing of the tide of Humanity.

   Stepped into the gap created.

   Turning from them she found a faceless line of armored... people?

   Weapons raised.

   She paused.

   They paused.

   The crowd behind her paused.

   The world froze.

   The faceless weapons took a step.

   She did not retreat.

   Those behind cried louder.

   She felt their desperation; rage, pulse through her.

   The power building within her burst free.

   Energised every cell; to the least particle of her being.

   Instinct guided her hand to a jagged piece of hard wood.

   Desperate; Fearful; Angry; Righteous.

   Her skin burned with their need for justice.

   Fury enveloped her.

   Teeth bared in the face of the Demons, she snarled.

   She screeched like a fiery sea bird.

   Arm raised, the crowd roared.

   Berserker; she charged.

    ~~~

   Kennedy caught her; hand wiping sweat from her brow.

   Willow was barely able to shake her head.

   Blanket laid around her naked torso she collapsed into her lover's chest.

   Attempting comfort Kenn said she could try again in the morning.

   Willow sobbed silently; knowing different.

   Another Slayer had slipped away.

   Gone.

   Another nameless girl lost to their insanity.

   Fallen.

   Falling.

   Failing.

   Water was closing overhead.

   Would she find land?

   Would they find harbor?

     Goddess watch over us all,

     kerk

    ps. elisi , on reading this; or the immediate version anyway, back in June (of 2020) commented with a couple of lines from this https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/47311/the-waste-land which I unconsciously echoed; even though I had not read it for over twenty years, I think.
    These are the lines :-

     ~ A crowd flowed over London Bridge, so many,

        I had not thought death had undone so many. ~  

    AUTHOR: kerk hiraeth

    FANDOM: Buffy the Vampire Slayer

    LENGTH: 200 

    CHARACTERS: Lisa Torres*; Dawn Summers; Martin King (Lisa's Dad),

    'SHIP: Dawn/Lisa,

    SUMMARY: As this is intended for Halfamoon 2025's Day Thirteen Prompt, One Hit Wonders, a little backstory.

                        Lisa is Dawn's companion during her scenes in 'The Body'; only scenes she, Lisa' has in the series. Over the years I have written a lot; A Lot, of stories featuring the two as a couple.

                       This is the first time she has had a surname; this is the case with her Dad as well; hence the different surnames, a fact that will be, hopefully, be explained in a future story. Lisa's Mom died when she was two year's old.
                      Those three facts are the same in every 'verse I've written them into and, the only relevance they have here is that a certain character is alive in this 'verse, and her name is included in the story. Relevant here is that Lisa's Mom and Dad never married and her Dad has been raising her alone since her Mom died.

                      At this point they are somewhere between Homecoming, when they were seventeen, and the second half of their Senior year when they are both eighteen; no particular relevance there, excepting it leaves it open for me to include this story in all my Buffyverses where Sunnydale is destroyed.

A/N: Title is a reference both to Girl in Red's iconic We Fell in Love in October, but also to the original idea for a story I've been working on since, it feels like forever, as far back as lockdown.

     “Butterflies? “

   Lisa managed to breathe, at least, as Dawn's pinky brushed hair from her wet cheek. Grasping the finger she kissed it, smiling as she turned her head.

   “Feet as big as icebergs.”

   Dawn's eyes revealing how young she really wasn't, Lisa was transported back to the first time she'd made Dawn laugh after the death of her Mother.

   “Are we ready?”

   Dawn's query was almost the reverse of hers on Dawn's first day back at School after the funeral.

   Wordlessly touching foreheads they began whispering some of Tara's favourite song lyrics; almost like a prayer to them now.

   The sound of the front door of her house roused them; turning they saw her Dad, trying to look stern with his arms across his chest.

   Demanding an answer.

   “Are We not due a formal introduction?”

   Momentarily confused Lisa rolled her eyes, before realising that this was Dawn's first visit since they'd come out as a couple. Then she took in the formal inquiry.

   Her Dad was talking about her Mom.

   Smiling as a single tear prepared to journey down her cheek, Lisa took their hands in hers; connecting the four of them.

   “My Parents this... This is my Heart revealed.”

    May the Goddess watch over you in these dark time, 
    kerk hiraeth 


     FIRST LOVE 
     by 
     John Clare 
 

   TITLE: Chasing Cars

   AUTHOR: kerk hiraeth

   LENGTH: 200

   FANDOM: GL's / Kdramas

   CHARACTERS/'SHIP: OC's (there are three)

   A/N: This idea is a variation on something I've been writing, and re-writing, in my head for well over two years. Sometimes they are Thai; sometimes Filipina; sometimes Korean. This will also, hopefully become something else one day. Even the title changed several times as I have been trying to write this version. The characters have names. I do not know them yet, and may never do so. All three have pretty full back stories; all in my head ~ some of which is finally down on paper, metaphorically speaking.

          This was written for Halfamoon; intended for 2025 Day 1 prompt; Fashion it actually feels, now that I have this as finished as I feel it can be, more fitting for lasy year's Day 1 prompt Black/White, but particularly, Shades of Grey. 

ADDENDUM: I came to the conclusion this was a good fit for Halfamoon, but it will go up there for Day 14 prompt, First Loves.  

     As with a mirror crack'd my memories are dis... jointed.

   She was wearing a younger boys shorts, and a soccer jersey; at least one size too big.

   For him.

   She was at least a head shorter than me; more than a head taller than me the last time we were together at her eighteenth birthday party.

   She was dressed in red then too; Calvin Klein boxers I'd bought her.

   But I can't remember her.

   What she sees is a ghost.

   I ran.

   She stayed and fought.

   I don't know the woman she became.

   And I do not remember the girl she loved.

   That ghost in her head.

   That girl died the night she got on her knees for the price of a bowl of soup.

   I see the love we had in the photographs, but I don't remember her.

   I don't know her.

   Do you imagine I want her to know what I became.

   After twenty years I am not that girl; not even a woman really.

   I am what I became that night.

   Can you hold her?

   If you do nothing else; hold her the way I did once, the way she...

   The way I wish I could.

     I fall before you,

     Here I am,

     I have nothing left

     Though I've tried to forget,

     You're all that I am,

     Take me home,

     I'm through fighting it,

     Broken,

     Lifeless,

     I give up,

     You're my only strength,

     Without you,

     I can't go on,

     Anymore,

     Ever again. 

   (lyrics from October by Evanescence) 

   AUTHOR: kerk hiraeth

   FANDOM: X-over ~ Buffy the Vampire Slayer ( femalehusband!verse ); Good Omens (book);

   CHARACTER(s): Anathema Device; Newton Pulsifer; Tara Maclay; Faith Lehane;

   'SHIP(s): Newton Pulsifer/ Anathema Device; Faith Lehane/Tara Maclay;

   LENGTH: 666;

   RATING: PG (I guess as there's some suggestion of sexual content, but nothing explicit;

   A/N: Just a bit of speculative nonsense; timelines can be whatever you want them to be.

           This is Tara & Faith from ~ a version, at least, of the FemaleHusband!verse & Newton Pulsifer & Anathema Device from a version of the Good Omens Book!verse, set sometime in that world after the conclusion of the book; radio version & TV version totally ignored ~ easily, as I have pretty much forgotten the radio version, and have never seen and have, mostly, been able to ignore the TV version of Good Omens.

          Not sure the punn-y title really works, but I'm sticking with it.

          ~ This is dedicated* to the inestimable  elisi who has given me more help; friendship & hope than almost anyone else in my life.

         I hope she likes this wee thank you; even with all the slippery timey-wimey-ness...

    They were both thinking that having a book of predictions would be a useful thing right now. 

 “Confucius he say, 'the night to come will bear winds of great strength and breadth enough to darken the moon'.'“ 

 Anathema Device temporarily turned her mind from the flat tyre, and frowned at the passenger beside her. 

 “ Did your car just tell us it would be a dark and stormy night? “ 

 Newton Pulsifer attempted to shrug; he did not know how to explain his plastic Japanese vehicle suddenly spouting Chinese; he presumed it was Chinese, proverbs. 

 So he just kind of shuddered instead as he suddenly felt the car, very jerkily, being lifted off the ground; tipping the, safely seat-belted travellers, backwards. 

 He also ignored the fact that a young woman was kneeling to remove the flat tyre, while her companion began knocking on the driver's side window. 


 It was just the two of them; inside and out. 

 Just the two. 

 The woman at the window proffered a bag of cookies. Anethama, smiling, accepted the bag, took a small handful and passed them over to her boyfriend. 

 Fortunately for him, Newton Pulsifer was in too much of a state of shock to display his usual shocked smile that he, Newton Pulsifer, had an actual girlfriend. 

 A real girlfriend that he, Newton Pulsifer, was actually having real sex with. 

 From beside him, a Bostonian accent ~ he had watched Warlock many times as part of his research; certainly not at the behest of his former comrade, Witchfinder Sergeant Shadwell, who would not have approved ~ suddenly yelled, “ Roll me one. “ 

 Before he could point out that his Wasabi had no spare tyre, even in its miraculously reconditioned... er ~ condition... the woman disappeared from the window and rolled a spare tyre under where the front of the car should have been, presumably into the waiting hands of her ~ he had the disturbing notion that the two were lovers. 

 He wondered how red his face was getting as he fought his unwanted imagination; knowing that for certain, his girlfriend would know what was absolutely not trying to creep into his unwanted imagination. 

 He could almost hear Shadwell's admonishments to righteousness. 

 Disturbingly he seemed to be using Anathema's accent... 


 He risked a sideways glance. Finally he heard what she was actually saying. 

 “ … these are really very good. “ 

 They locked eyes. 
  He could see in them that she was well aware his girlfriend; Newton Pulsifer's girlfriend, was well aware the woman was a witch. What the woman changing the non-existent spare tyre was... well a mystery. 

 Suddenly his Wasabi interrupted his; their?, thoughts with a repeat of her confucing, Confusion... 

 He frowned. 
 His frown doubled its frown when he considered the almost cloudless November sky gleaming back down at him. 
 It wasn't even afternoon. 
 His car had never been prone to weather predictions either. 

 Then the Wasabi was slowly; and much more smoothly lowered to the ground. 

 Newton Pulsifer stared straight ahead, and not at the whispers the Cookie Lady was presenting to her... roommate's ear. The roommate grinned and could clearly be seen ~ but not by him ~ mouthing, 'Again?' 

 He felt guilty that they never even thought of... offering their rescuers a lift, but he was too busy not looking at the woman as she leant into the car; gently refusing to take the bag of cookies back from his, Newton Pulsifer, girlfriend. 

 He successfully fought off a smile once more. 

 “ If I were you, “ she suggested, “ I'd park, “ she paused glancing down, as if seeing the plasticity of the Wasabi for the first time, “ at the Rail Station, and take the train to Yorkshire. “ 

 This time Newton Pulsifer glanced at his girlfriend. 
 Anathema was ~ not staring ~ er, glancing back at him. 

 How had she known they were off to visit Anathema's ancestral home? 

 “ It's going to be a dark and stormy night. “ 

 So intent were they on getting to the Train Station that they didn't see where the two women had disappeared for their... ~ uhm, picnic. 



   

   tio-trile.tumblr.com/post/114108619069/requests-well-we-havent-seen-your-headcanon

That dedication ~ This comes from 'The Storied Life of A.J. Fikry' and consists of a note he is writing to his adopted daughter, Maya, about a story he is reccomending to her. ' Maya, perhaps you don't know that I had a wife before Amelia and a profession before I became a bookseller. I was once married to a woman named Nicole Evans. I love her very much. She died in a car accident, and a large part of me was dead for a long time after, probably until I found you.

( to elisi, there's a lot more, but I wanted to include the first paragraph ~ the rest you can read when you get to the copy of the book I sent to you ~ before I added the sentence that matters most here. Little of this is specific to the two of us, but the intent of what I am trying to say is expressed in these last words. You know more about my life than most anyone else and you still seem to like me. That means more than I can truly express. This story is just a small gift to say thank you. )

' … if you're ever interested in reading more about the things your dad did in another life'.

~ A.J.F.

May the Goddess watch over you and all you love,

kerk hiraeth