kerk_hiraeth: Me and Unidoggy Edinburgh Pride 2015 (Default)

   TITLE: First Love; Hello... Goodbye

   AUTHOR: kerk_hiraeth

   FANDOM: Degrassi: The Next Generation (post-S12 for Fiona; S14 for Imogen);

   LENGTH: 250;

   CHARACTER(S): Fiona Coyne; Imogen Moreno; Laura Coyne; OC;

   A/N: This was written to fill a prompt @ femslash100 ~ Any: Any/Any - parting is such sweet sorrow for doctorkaitlyn (which is also a reminder that I have to do something to get overmy embarrasment at my phobia about forms and accept offered help; thus enabling me to move stories onto kerk_hiraeth ).

           I have no idea whether they are a fan of Degrassi though, being from Ontario, I Imagine they are aware of it. I have been aware of the show since news, probably, of it's re-incarnation; named above, being on the way.

          Fiona and Imogen weren't even the first couple that attracted my attention, though Fiona Coyne; involved at the time of the scene I first saw in a domestic abuse and alcoholism storyline, was the first named character I ever saw (I didn't know at the time she was also coming out).

         Can't recall whether it was while looking for Zoe/Rasha videos or, more likely, Adam/Becky ones, but the first Fiona/Imogen vid I saw was of their break up. I do know that from the moment I saw the request I had the image of that break up, and the expression on the characters faces; quite vivid in my mind. At first I struggled to capture it, until I realised I was writing from the wrong character's perspective; once that was corrected the story was written very quickly.



        Imogen Moreno slipped quietly into a pew; eyes catching those of the Mother of her first love as she led her daughter down the aisle.

     Fiona Coyne; soon to be Chang, could only see the woman she was here to wed. Imogen glanced down, not quite feeling that sweet sorrow, but certainly a bittersweet sense memory of when those eyes had looked at her that way; taking in, as her own were at the same moment, the face she might never see again.

     Ironic that it had been she who was hard to track down; Fiona who was settling down in one place; albeit to a French speaking veteran, and newly Canadian, very mixed race, mother of a model Fiona had dressed for a small movie role.

     Pure chance that had led her to take a date to the only movie theater in Ohio that was showing that film, so she could see what everyone else probably thought was a very cryptic message in the end titles.

     One ditched date; two taxis, a plane and a train later and she was here; having called, as it turned out Fiona's Mom, just in time to see her first love marry another.

     As she watched Fiona share her vows with her new wife, Imogen felt pangs, but no regrets; her decision back then had been the right one. She smiled; so much catching up; tearful joy and sweet sorrow at another, hopefully less permanent, parting, to do.

     Until then...





     Sweet, so would I.

Yet I should kill thee with much cherishing.

Good night, good night! Parting is such sweet sorrow

That I shall say good night till it be morrow.


    William Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet; Act Two, Scene Two.


    kerk hiraeth




kerk_hiraeth: Me and Unidoggy Edinburgh Pride 2015 (Default)

   TITLE: She Used To Be Mine

   AUTHOR: kerk_hiraeth

   FANDOM: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (FemaleHusband!verse)

   LENGTH: 100;

   CHARACTER(S): Tara Maclay; Willow Rosenberg (deceased, and by implication only);

   A/N: This 'verse first diversifies from canon about the time of the events of OMWF thru Wrecked in S6. This is set some time after Tara, not Willow, has turned Sunnydale into a lake to destroy an ultimate evil; more than one year in time after the similar destruction happened in canon. Faith is on walkabout; on an Indian motorcycle, and Tara's safety is in the hands of another.

          If you listen to the song ( She Used To Be Mine by Sara Bareilles) this could be read more than one way; I'm not certain whether the 'she' is Willow, or Tara herself. The 'man' in the lyrics is her father either way; not in a good way.



       Tara listened blissfully; Willow brushing her hair.

     Trying hard to recall her chatter; all that reached her was the laughter behind that twisted smirk.


     She faced the mirror; didn't need to see that face.

     Oil slick eyes; dark hair that slithered; cracked veins crawling over a face she used to know so well.


     Willow's venom filled her ears; tweezers worked to remove glass; pain beat back the noiseless misery, and she barely left any scars now.

     They would believe she'd shattered another tumbler.


     Done, her eyes opened; herself staring back.

     Looking down she wondered where she'd hidden the bottle today.  

    "She is gone, but she used to be mine," 

    kerk hiraeth

kerk_hiraeth: Me and Unidoggy Edinburgh Pride 2015 (Default)

   TITLE: Ophelia; She is Not

   AUTHOR: kerk_hiraeth

   FANDOM: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (au-from The Harvest onward)

   CHARACTER(S): Nancy (from The Wish); Buffy Summers; Cordelia Chase; Rupert Giles;

   LENGTH: 1,800;

   A/N: This 'verse comes out of the discussions in the comments for 

  the second one since my 'comeback' to writing fanfic, with 

[personal profile] yourlibrarian

          I was really set to thinking as to the history of the show, and how it might differ if, as in this 'verse, it was Willow who was vamped and killed in the pilot. 
         Those thoughts led me to Nancy. Nancy who? Well I have given her a surname; and have sketched out enough of a backstory in my head to carry more stories forward but this says all you need to know vis-a-vis the canon of the TV show, though in my head she's a college student, with an interest in theater
; she's also gay, which leads me to the girlfriend.
        Jan, or Janan, to give her her full given name has appeared in one of my stories before. She was Tara's first girlfriend and, though it wasn't ever stated in this drabble ; one of a set of three for open-on-sunday,  was much older than Tara at the time; as Nancy would have been when they were together before this story is set.
        I hope to see Nancy and Jan again, but it occurs to me now that, even when I was writing Nancy's moments in my mind; Jan was her girlfriend, and she was the same Jan as in the drabble.


    The dodgy lighting over the theater parking was the same; one light had been fixed since last semester, that was it. The air was crisper; though not even close to the weather she'd grown up with, still strangers to California got a brisk shock when they experienced it. Traffic was lighter than most expected for a town this size; but the docks sounded lively; must be a couple of ships in.


Nancy felt strange about it tonight that's all; first rehearsal for a production since...


She grimaced; she'd gone and wasn't coming back. She sighed, reflecting that now she was starting her final year; strangeness walked hand in hand with Sunnydale every night.

She couldn't fault Jan for leaving after... After it happened. She had no warning of Sunnydale's rep before she arrived; Nancy remembered Jan being so shocked that she had come to UCSD even knowing about it she'd been rendered speechless for the rest of what had turned into their first night together.

Hadn't been planned as their first date, and Jan had made it clear enough over the months that learning about this town had not affected her decision to begin sleeping with her, but Nancy had always wondered.

Jan had nearly finished her Freshman Year when she'd been... it had happened. Nancy cursed Greyhound for it's timetabling, but she'd known; with increasing certainty that the moment her remaining projects were completed Jan would be heading somewhere safer.

It had started as a tiny humorous thing; this ritual, but it had quickly become part of their nights rehearsing at the local theater for the local drama group's productions. Jan had grasped onto it; Nancy now saw, as a way of controlling her fear.

Her last year here; Nancy had rather it had been 'The Winter's Tale', but this would do ~ if only this had not been Jan's favourite, and if Cordelia had not been the part that Jan would have been perfect for.

She wondered if she'd have got to play The Fool anyway; boyish as she looked at times, but she liked Cordelia anyway. She did ponder what it would be like to play Gloucester, or even maybe Lear.


But Cordelia would do.


So she settled her books and notes into the crook of her other arm; lifting her left to the sky to declaim.


Hark! Hark! The lark at heaven's gate sings,

And Phoebus 'gins arise;

His steeds...


And there it ended as she was unceremoniously shoved aside by a pair of giggling high school rich... divas. Ironically, she supposed, one of them appeared to be Cordelia. Nancy didn't recognise the asian girl with her, but the not so surruptitious glance backward told Nancy that the moment had been deliberate.


Actually it surprised her, because she knew that Chase had become part of the production team on the recommendation of one of the teachers; Nancy knew her and respected her, the woman had given up on a theatrical career of her own because of racism on Broadway; deciding on a career she loved better anyway.

She didn't have to work hard to figure why she'd been targeted; for once not because she was a lesbian.

She smirked; kinda refreshing that actually.

Sighing she began to turn to pick up her belongings when she was almost knocked onto her backside by another; this time clearly accidental, collision. As she collected her wits, Nancy thought she heard a mumbled apology and almost clashed heads with the, apparently, extremely nervous girl flapping about in front of her; Nancy having, by this time, knelt down to assist in the recovery of her own belongings.

Gripping a hard wooden object she suddenly recognised who it was.


Buffy Summers,” she said calmly, but so appreciatively that the poor girl actually stopped wrecking Nancy's notes and looked directly at her; admittedly confused until Nancy pointed out where she knew Buffy from.

Last semester? You rescued my girl...

Choking off that sentence, Nancy smiled; with only the slightest of grimaces, as she inwardly berated herself for, once more, forgetting that Jan was gone; never to return to Sunnydale. She knew the letter waiting to be opened in her room told her where Jan was spending the rest of her college life.

In a different City; different State? Different country.

Anyone speculating on different continent, would not be crazy to lay money on.


She thought she almost detected a moment's relaxation; only to be distracted by the object she realised she was holding. It smelt of ash, and a little blood; wasn't sharpened of course, and appeared to be made of the same wood as the chairs the cast used between scenes.

Bemused, Nancy watched Buffy pick up; calmer and steadier now, her books and notes; gather them together neatly and hold them out to her. Nancy stood confused for a second, and then held the makeshift stake out to the Slayer.


Fuck, but she was even tinier up close!


From somewhere Nancy's personality kicked in and she smiled. “Fair exchange?

It was Buffy's turn to be confused again; especially when Nancy held out her hand; her left hand, and it took her a couple of seconds to respond and take hold of it as they shook hands; Buffy remembering at the last moment to move the stake to her other hand.

Nancy Walker, “ she said, feeling it unusally necessary to explain; unintentionally repeating herself as she did so, that Buffy had, “... saved my...

She cursed, in arabic; which didn't help, as she kicked herself for... She was gone; Walker it's time you got used to it. She was never the u-hauling romantic, but Nancy knew she had almost begun to imagine a future with this one.


She was rescued from further maudlin reflections when Buffy's head dropped and she mumbled ~ damn she was so small, “I'm sorry.

Nancy's chuckle made Buffy glance up again.


For what? Saving her? She's still alive, and I can hardly fault her for leaving a town with the rep this one has; now can I?


Nancy thought Buffy looked a bit nonplussed at that; suddenly it occurred that the poor girl wasn't used to people actually having conversation with her; talking to her.

As that thought formed; another more disturbing one beat it to her vocal chords.

The beads of sweat; the still heavy breaths and the biting of the lip.


You're scared... was there a vampire on the crew?

Buffy didn't have to answer, though she held up two fingers, “Scheisse!

Suddenly Jan's frantic messages; that scared timbre to her voice when they spoke after Nancy called to let her know that the bus was finally getting into Sunnydale and to meet her at College, the way she'd had to be calmed down and didn't appear to be all there when they made love.

Her constant trips to the bathroom.


How could I have been so obtuse?


Aloud, she muttered, “I was too horny to see straight!” A titter from nearby brought her back to the present. She saw this tiny child, but was saved from sudden anger by that grin, and laughed herself as she realised that she had, indeed, said that last out loud.

Nancy looked at her and abruptly offered to buy her a coffee at the bus station if she'd escort her there. Buffy looked like she was about to refuse, then shrugged, muttering absent-mindedly that she would, and would miss working at the theater now her mission was over.

Why leave? “ Adding, before the Slayer could point out what, she imagined anyway, was obvious, “You really are good with your hands.. you turned a piece of chair leg into a weapon with... what? Your fingernails? That blood is yours, yeah?


Buffy seemed to relax a bit; telling Nancy about her friend Xander; who'd passed on tips, apparently from some alcoholic relative, so she wouldn't seem too out of place working on the sets.


You still seem lonely, if I can say that. Do you only have... “ She needed to choose her words carefully; almost having forgotten how to talk to a girl she wasn't trying to seduce. “Boys in your life?


Buffy tried not look too regretful, but it was clear she had no girlfriends. She seemed about to say there was one, but thought better of it; bit her lip and, eventually, admitted, “I could use a girlfriend.


Nancy almost doubled over in silent mirth as Buffy almost seemed to turn the colour of the Sunnydale sports jerseys as she realised what she'd said.

Nancy held up her hand, “Small 'g' is fine; been a while, but I think I can recall how to talk to, “ she gestured the appropriate apostrophes; promising to kick herself later for using them, “ 'straight' girls,

The kid actually laughed at that and gestured towards the parking exit on the bus station side of the building. Nancy mocked the swooping of a hat; inappropriately as Buffy was the 'hero', but what the heck.

It was actually kinda nice to play the romantic hero to a girl for once.

Maybe she would try for the male lead next time after all, she smiled to herself.


He sounds like a good teacher, “ she was saying to Buffy as they turned onto the sidewalk, and waited patiently for the lights to allow them to cross.


Now, if you were following the two young women ~ at a discreet, and stealthy, distance ~ you might have been expected to miss the knowing smile on the younger ones face at that remark.

If that same smile, and the thought behind it hadn't also been on your mind.

You might also have missed the pain on the face of the watcher as they recalled the misery at the death of an even younger girl, because of your; not your charge's, mistake.

You might also have been wondering what to do about the two earnest, and dangerously heroic young people trying to assuage their own survivor's guilt by helping you and your charge; two tragically ill-equipped; angry, very young men to be, who felt far too much like yourself at that age for comfort.

You might further feel that you were in too deep to cut them loose; especially as they were showing signs; buried in their earnestness, but there nonetheless, of promise that could lead them to become much better adults than you felt.

You, further to all that, might be concerned at how to marry that with the need to actually do your job and keep your charge alive for as long as possible; even unto your future mandated betrayal.


Which you so wished you could see a way out of.


Then you might see in this new – possible – female influence a way of providing a release from your charge's overwhelmingly masculine social group which, in the dog eat dog atmosphere of an American High School, could leave all three of them dangerously isolated.


Carefully you retreat as you realise you've got too close behind them, but not before you hear the older woman offer her hacking ~ whatever that was ~ in return for your charge carrying on with the work on the sets; also promising doughnuts; pizza and some of those horrendously sugary confections Americans called mochas.


So you decide to stand, eventually, where you are, until you are sure they are safe inside the bus station. Feeling hungry yourself now, you might recall the younger boy offering you and the aforementioned Xander, pizza and a movie at his house, since his parents were going out to visit relatives and would not mind at all a teacher acting chaperone; since you couldn't be somethng they were too old for anyway.

Sadly you might also reflect on how grateful Xander looked at the prospect at this, possibly, meaning not having to go home at all.


As you turn away, your thoughts might avoid what their choice of filmic entertainment might be and turn to the easily digested pizza; as long as you could persuade them to stay away from those evil anchovies...


You might also decide her report could wait until morning.



   Morning Song

     Hark, hark, the lark at heaven’s gate sings,

And Phoebus gins arise,

His steeds to water at those springs

On chalic’d flow’rs that lies;

And winking Mary-buds begin to ope

their golden eyes;

With every thing that pretty is, my lady sweet, arise:

Arise, arise!

     (Act 2, Scene 3, William Shakespeare's Cymbeline)




kerk_hiraeth: Me and Unidoggy Edinburgh Pride 2015 (Default)

   TITLE: Stranger Among the Living

   AUTHOR: kerk_hiraeth

   FANDOM: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (Post-Chosen)

   LENGTH: 100;

   CHARACTER: Buffy Summers;

   A/N: This was the very first thing I posted on livejournal; joining that forum just before new years 2009. It does not fit into any of my various 'verses; not counting ones where Buffy is dead of course, therefore it can fit into them all, including those which follow canon.

           The major exception to all these is the comics; since I stopped reading those five issues from the end of the first post-series 'season' in that version. Ironically, given I never took to Angel as a character and, by that time, not taken against Spike's return in S5 of AtS, it was the combination of the way that Angel was treated in the comics, and Spike's return at the very point I had decided to stop reading them, that made me stop taking any further interest in the comics.

           If you are aware of my other 'verses you will be know that that hasn't stopped me stealing three characters from the comics; principally Satsu & Bay, though not truly consistent with their situations in the comics.

          So, if you want to imagine Spike & Angel alive or dead; do so and, if you want to imagine Buffy in a relationship with one of them; or both; or neither, then do so. None of them is wrong; nor correct. It does not matter and, after many years of trying to fit this somewhere, I have decided I am happy with that.



        Behind her back she's, “The Slayer.” … and other things they should be too young to understand.


     To her face?

     “Sir,” or “General.

     In their bunks, in hushed tones, “She.

     Or, “Her.


     Why does she always carry a lighter, when she doesn't smoke?

     Why, when they run out, does she always head for London?


     Nobody knows about the headstone; inscribed with two, improbable, dates; lit by one, eternally aflame; cheap, lighter.

     Or why she always brings back a whole case.

     Or always returns from Dublin.

     Via Galway.


     Behind her back it's “Bitch.

     Never her name.


     Never just... “Buffy.







kerk_hiraeth: Me and Unidoggy Edinburgh Pride 2015 (Default)
    TITLE: Falling in Love Again III. The Children of Miss Edith

    AUTHOR: kerk_hiraeth

    FANDOM: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (au version of S3's wishverse)

    LENGTH: 1,250;

    CHARACTERS: Tara Maclay; Drusilla; Miss Edith; Tara's Father; Donny Maclay; Cousin Beth;

    SHIP: Tara/Dru; Dru/Miss Edith; Tara/Miss Edith;

    A/N: Pretty sure this would have been the same story I would have written when I wrote the first two episodes in this 'verse; but it does follow more closely where I was headed when I wrote the drabble that served as an interlude, and alluded to in this story.

            This originally included references (clearer anyway) to the song that inspires the overall title for these fics; of which the versions sung by Marlene Dietrich will forever be the definitive ones. Tara's version though is creepier; more delicious and a helluva lot more terrifying.




       Those eyes, destitute of vision; never to be forgotten as that talon closed in.




    Nor could she rid herself of those cooing sounds; almost as if her sire had imagined she was feeding her victim.

    Though she'd gotten nostalgic, almost, over her cries of pain when her father and brother first raped her; though her anger at the betrayal of her childhood friend became as inexorably white hot as a volcanic river.

    Those tears; that misery, became lost amidst agonising screams once unimaginable to her, as some latin prayer was inscribed into her eyeball only for it to be removed and placed where her other eye saw it before anything else when she rose from the shallow grave her sire had lain her in.


    Those amaurotic eyes? They'd be seared into her brain even when she became as one with the dust.


    The seussian logic of her sire was no match for her own innate powers; of survival and, long buried, fascination.

    Undoubtedly a seer, her sire was myopic where her new companion's talents were concerned; as unable to see the powers used against her as she was unable to fight.

    Or sing.

    She recalled the nightmarish christmas lullaby, ever to be playing in her own head, her sire was crooning as she 'Cornwall'd her vile jelly', before oblivion had solenced her screams, and saved her throat.


    Turned, she found her sire to be a marvellous teacher; creative lover, and unfathomably easy to manipulate.


    She wondered just how insane the vampire who turned her sire had been; wondered too about what family she was talking about.

    Who was 'Mama', or 'Grandmama'; depending on how lucid she was?

    Who was her 'bad, rude man'; why had he abandoned her? To escape her sire's tendency to talk to the stars in the sky?

    She seemed to cock her head as they were whispering to her; even the birds seemed to go silent on those evenings.


    Most of all she wondered who Miss Edith was, who seemed to be in constant touch with her sire; almost as if they were lovers, though she had never met her.


    Or so she had imagined.




    Purblind; eyes that burrowed deeper than ever had been the case; yet still not as unseeing as her sire had been.




    She decided that, if ever this Miss Edith came looking she needed to be rid of that threat as speedily as possible. Obvious before, it became ever clearer a necessity once she'd lured her sire to the forest; on the premise of knowing where her 'effulgent wee chld' was.

    In the end her sire was more easily disposed of than her innocence for her family; they it was that drove her inexorably; gathering strength and followers and slaves, trekking back to her family's homestead.

    The smile hidden behind her disingenuously chagrin'd face as Donny invited her in was dancing at the prospect of the play ahead of it's bearer.


    She played with them for days.


    In time she tired of the sport; handing 'dear papa' over to her followers to play with; not to kill, she wasn't as finished with 'mein papa' as all that.

    Donny and Cousin Beth lived an impressively long time as she found ever more, she thought, creative ways to get them to 'partake' of each other.

    Removal of Cousin Beth's vocal chords; tongue first – for ease of access - relieved her of having to listen to that incessant pleading as she slowly remodelled her brother into a rather nice jacket that did, as promised by her designer, look remarkably like Nicholas Cage's in that tiresome movie he'd been obsessed with.


    Cousin Beth now?

    What to do with Cousin Beth?

    The smile when it dawned on her made for exquisite terror in the eyes of her childhood friend; who made for excellent designer, and very piratical, boots, as well as three pairs of hot pants.

    The Human she had been would have been mortified at the idea of wearing them; which now made her feel all the more delicious.

    Donny tasted nicer though; more fat on him.


    Slowly she had gathered intelligence; sending out her followers, and the slaves she'd made of the children and siblings of her tormentors.

    She discovered who Angelus was, or had been; as with his sire and their leader – who the devil had been Aurelius, she'd wondered - they were all dead.

    So was the Slayer as well as the one sent to replace her. It was bothersome that The Master's killer had vanished shortly thereafter; her sire's missing 'naughty, rude boy'.

    She also discovered her mistake about Miss Edith; learnt from it she did though; something the follower who'd laughed on hearing that discovery would never get to do. The rest of her followers and slaves learned from her long, awe-inspiringly terrible; second, death though.

    O, and did they learn.


    Had to be careful; too cowed and they'd be too afraid to be useful.


    Softly crooning 'Falling in Love Again' to herself; she decided she'd have to learn that in German, she tucked Miss Edith into her cot; cooing softly as she removed those sightless eyes. Smiled with a delighted giggle she popped them into the little bag to keep Cousin Beth's company.

    She frowned; not quite able to remember what she'd done with Donny's.

    Recovering them she replaced the nicely shrunken objects carefully within the void left by Miss Edith's.

    Still singing softly to herself she stepped outside to enjoy watching her home town burn; being able to see the surviving townsfolk being driven like their pens made it even more delightful a spectacle.

    Their children were already safely under her control now and watched; terrified and fascinated, whimpering as their families were herded past them. They needed to be strengthened and trained, the best of them new followers; others slaves and a necessary source of food in fallow times. 


    Where to turn now?


    She decided she liked the opportunities Sunnydale's present vulnerability offered.

    It had been a possible escape when Human; it seemed likely too this last of Aurelius' familias, Spike, would not stray too far from any new Slayer who would inevitably turn up; best then to take them both out while this new Slayer was unlearned and they could form an alliance.


    Yes, Sunnydale it would be.


    Satisfied, her attention fell on her father; suspended in his cage; sure he was to be roasted as a final revenge.

    'No mein papa, ' she smirked as a slave she had her eye on handed her the torch.

    Slowly passing close to him she smiled genially as he wept; much as she had once wept. Her intentions for him as secret as ever.


    'I have years of games yet we can play. You shall enjoy your daughter's company for many a day.'


    Letting out a long slow sigh Tara Maclay set the sacrificial pyre aflame. The designer's sudden terror; realising she was to be the Human sacrifice spread a frisson of fear through the crowd that was truly orgasmic.


    Turning, she wondered what other entertainments her followers had conjured for her to enjoy. They'd be good, though it would be a shame if Miss Edith's sacrifice was incomplete.


    Miss Edith would not like that at all.

    Tara smiled, a vampire would complete the trifecta in a most satisfying way.

    Miss Edith would be so disappointed if her children were not to share fully in her sacrifice.


    The firelight made their fear glitter gloriously.





     kerk hiraeth



kerk_hiraeth: Me and Unidoggy Edinburgh Pride 2015 (Default)
   Hoping these mild panic attacks when I post these go away. I know why they're happening, and I can hear myself telling me how stupid I am, but I have to beat them or this whole thing will happen all over again. 

   So this was also, as with the previous story, written some time in the weeks/months after 'Seeing Red' and the original pages that I scribbled it down on are now in [personal profile] elisi 's possession as I sent them down to her a few weeks back; as soon as I saw them I knew I wanted her to have them, and probably only delayed as long as I did because I could not, at first find that first page that I wrote down whilst half asleep in the middle of the night; the expanded version that evolved into what is posted here, and took a bit longer to get right. 

   In my head, I have decided over time, they are in Siena and Willow was 'tricked' into a vacation because her wife knew Oz would be there. 

   Hope you enjoy.




   AUTHOR: kerk hiraeth

   FANDOM: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (post-series)

   LENGTH: 611;

   CHARACTERS: Willow Rosenberg; Daniel 'Oz' Osborne; OC's & regulars implied.

   'SHIPS: Willow/OC; Willow/Tara & Willow/Oz (implied); Oz/OC; other canon pairings implied.

   A/N: It's that blue-haired meeting in Istanbul, mentioned in 'New Moon Rising'; only they're in Italy, and it's twenty years to the day after the laundry room scene from 'Hush'.



     ...It's Easy to be Noble (when you're not) in Constantinople

     by kerk hiraeth


    Half a lifetime,


   Half a lifetime ago, half a world away,

   she had finally been able to say goodbye,

   cried tears of sadness, tears of passion,

   cried tears of joy, tears of grief and loss.


   Half a lifetime away, half a world ago,


    Crossing a square,


   The noise of remembered voices,

   speaking a thousand tongues,

   of battles fought, foes vanquished,

   lovers kissed, couples dancing,

   laughing children, whispered dreams.


   All in the steps it takes... crossing a square. 



    Sipping a cup of joe,


   Sipping a cup of joe,

   Sat, all but alone, in a near empty square,

   with two (other) musicians... In an empty square.

   The sun was bright, which somehow seemed right.

   There was the smell of baking bread,

   garlic and coffee beans roasting in the open air.


   Sipping a cup of joe.


    Nights making love,


   Nights making love... and days...

   and nights... and days...

   of caresses and exploration...

   of lips and salty wetness...

   of passions shared... and memories...

   of the one she was never without...


   Forever... Always... Everything...


    Crossing an ocean,


   Crossing an ocean

    … with you watching the skies, while they sleep.

    … with you smiling at his snores, while she sleeps.

    … with you watching day become night... while they sleep.

    … with you caressing her breast, while he sleeps.

    … with you tasting her... while he sleeps, and she smiles.


    Sat at a table, she smiled,


   At a table, Beneath a tree, On a couch,

   On a chair, On a bench, At a wheel.

   Stood on a stage, At a tree.


   Beneath a tree, she smiled...

   Beneath a tree, he smiled...

   Once more with feeling...


   Beneath a tree.

   In a corridor, At a door, Beneath a tree.

   Sat at a table, she smiled.


    Peaceful faces,


   A daughter, at home, friends on the couch.

   A lover, asleep, a son at her breast.

   Friends, asleep, twins on their laps.


   A joy watching them all.


   Gentle faces, beautiful faces, spotty faces.

   Scarred faces, scared faces, smiling faces...


   Peaceful faces.


    Crossing a street,


   One step at a time... to the grocer.

   One step at a time... to the school.

   One step at a time... to the park.

   One step at a time... to say goodbye.

   One step at a time... crossing a street...


   To say... hello?


    Scarlet, auburn, red,


   Eyes that glittered, smiles that glowed,

   Hairs that flowed, gently caressed.

   Hair, now short, now grey,

   now multi-colored, now grey... or was it silver?


   Daughter - hair scarlet...

   Son - hair auburn,

   Lover - hair red,

   Wife - forever stained black...


   Should be blue.


    A piper... playing; a woman sings,


   A piper on Northumberland pipes,

   playing a jaunty tune, from foreign shores, on foreign land.

   A woman sings a song of love,

   between people of stranger faiths born.


   Children playing, children dancing, children sleeping.

   We were floating, always floating, here we're floating.

   A woman watches a piper playing,

   A woman sleeps, while another sings.


    Crossing a sidewalk,


   A cup leaves a mouth, once so familiar,

   A soul leaves a body, finally at peace,

   The cup comes to rest; gentle applause,

   A face turns, eyes twinkle, a gentle smile,


   Boy wears jacket, girl a coat,

   Son wears diapers, daughter..?

   Naked... BETTER NOT BE!

   Men in kilts, woman in trews.


    She sniffs... He stands... She nods... He smiles...


   “You're sitting down,” she sniffs.

   “It's not Istanbul,” he replies; he stands.

   “You're not around the corner,” she nods over his shoulder.

   “Your hair's not blue,” he smiles.


   Half a lifetime, half a world, half a promise.

   Half a world away, half a lifetime ago.

   Hug and hold him. Kiss and love her.

   Bury your dreams and love the rest as best you can.


   Barely a word. Never a sight.

   We're early, their eyes said, not blaming.


   But... (return to title) 

    kerk hiraeth 


kerk_hiraeth: Me and Unidoggy Edinburgh Pride 2015 (Default)

          this is the beginning of a long project to transfer all my stories over to A03; something my hero  has been wanting me to do for a long time. I'm sure she will have something to say about this in her own time. While I can keep the many 'verses straight in my head, pretty much, she and many others cannot ~ would that I could do that in my real life! ~ so as part of my need to get myself into a better state of mental health I am trying to do what I think maybe I have feared, and it is freaking me out today as I take the first steps on this road, and that is getting a bigger audience for my stories I still recall, as elisi can testify, how much getting simply nominated for awards a couple of years back freaked me out). 

   Anyway, I am going to be going through the stories in the order they were written/posted - with exceptions for stories I wrote before the internet, as a mass thing anyway, existed. Also there is one story written in that early period after 'Seeing Red' sparked me into writing again that need such a total rewrite that it would have to be considered a new story. 

   That said I am therefore starting with the second completed story I wrote back then. There were a couple of things i felt I needed to change from previous versions, one of which is very much in the same category as that which has prevented me posting that first completed story on lj/dw. 

   This then is where I take that first scary step. 

   May the Goddess grant me the time to complete it and indeed add new work to it,



   TITLE: The Dance of the Happy Little Toaster

   AUTHOR: kerk_hiraeth

   FANDOM: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (Willow POV missing scene post-New Moon Rising)

   LENGTH: 650;

   CHARACTERS: Willow Rosenberg;Tara Maclay;

   'SHIP: WillTara (or Willow/Tara)

   A/N: This is the morning after the moment Tara blew out the candle at the end of New Moon Rising; there are several references – to a Beatles song; the 'Puppy' episode(s) of Ellen; also to a movie, referenced in Something Blue, that I had not seen yet at the time I wrote this. Shortly thereafter I did get to see The Brave Little Toaster (1987) at the Dundee Contemporary Arts (or the DCA as it is known); which I loved as a more melancholy kind of children's film than seems commonly to be the case (actually suiting better, in hindsight, the WillTara relationship than this story does now).

           The last line is unashamedly stolen (I believe the PC term is 'homage') from what, I think, was the first lesbian (indeed Queer movie of any kind) I ever saw; that film was Lianna (1983).



     She was naked! In Tara's bed.


   The sudden enormity of her situation made her giggle, albeit quietly.


   She gasped; hushing herself instantly.


   It had been wow!


   They'd been intimate before; they'd been half-naked before, but it had been nothing more than high class, chocolate frosted, necking.

   Last night had been low class, chocolate; honey filled, hi-caffeine... lust-lovin'




   She glanced over at the peaceful face of her lover.

   Her lover.

   Tara was her lover.

   Trying not to laugh out loud, Willow wondered if she was now an '
official' lesbian; if Tara would get an official Ellen 'I've turned a straight girl' toaster oven.

   Giggling once more, she smirked as she noticed the tiniest bit of drool on Tara's cheek.

   If she wasn't so frightened of waking her, Willow would've kissed it away.

   Then she stroked some hair away from Tara's face; daring to kiss her, ever so softly; ever so carefully; ever so daintily, on the forehead.

   Closing her eyes, Willow breathed the still sweaty scent of her lover.

   Her lover. Tara was her lover.


   It was a fact now. No going back.


   She snorted as she fought back a laugh.


   Hell, she wanted to shout; cry out.

   She contented herself with another gentle kiss; chaste, on her lover's cheek.


   Her lover. Tara was her lover.


   She held her breath as Tara stirred slightly. Then, for several minutes, she simply took in the sight of Tara's breathing... in... out... deep in sleep.


   'O Goddess, but she was beautiful!'


   “She loves you; yeah, yeah, yeah.


   She felt almost too happy, she felt... drunk.

   She wanted to tell the world.

   She felt like dancing and singing.

   She wanted to testify.


   Instead, for over half an hour, she had to be content with simply watching Tara's breathing; gifting herself of the slightest of kisses; on the cheek; on her forehead.

   Once, daringly, on the lips.

   She even stroked her shoulder.


   Finally she felt forced to action; she could no longer stay silent.

   Her lover, she told herself again.

   “My lover; Tara Maclay is my lover.

   Whispered, she still hid a grin wider than the Grand Canyon behind her hands.


   Was it possible to be too happy?




   She felt compelled to laugh; to cry; to shout; to scream.

   She could not even begin to decide which.

   She knew disturbing Tara's peaceful sleep would be an unbearable crime.


   She wondered if Tara was dreaming about her.


   Carefully disengaging herself from the covers, Willow reluctantly clambered out of bed.

   Away from Tara.

   Picking up a discarded t-shirt; she grabbed her overnight bag and, taking one last look at Tara's face, she wandered slowly down the hallway to the showers.

   There, despite the early hour, she took the most wonderful shower she had ever experienced.

   She ran her hands; exploring, over a body that she had never known before.

   Touching her lips; brushing fingertips over her nipples; stroking her belly; teasing herself – hissing at how ready she was – between her legs.


   Everywhere Tara had touched her.


   Eventually she stepped, dripping, from the shower and stood naked in front of a mirror.

   She placed a finger on her tongue; tasting it.

   Just to see if it felt any different.


   It tasted like it was fresh from the shower.


   She was almost disappointed, but she finally felt free to let out the long suppressed laughter.


   For several more minutes she stared; finally drying herself, at the face in the mirror. Studying the inane grin on the face of a woman she could hardly recognise.


   Yet seemed to know for the first time.


   She seemed to be glowing.

   Was she glowing?

   She chuckled.

   Of course she was glowing.

   She was fresh from the shower.


   Fresh from her lover. Her lover Tara Maclay.

   She repeated it aloud; laughing as she brushed wet hair from her face.


   Then staring defiantly into the mirror; she declared.

Willow Rosenberg eats pussy!

      kerk hiraeth

kerk_hiraeth: Me and Unidoggy Edinburgh Pride 2015 (Default)

   SONNET 6 from HOLY SONNETS: DIVINE MEDITATIONS by John Donne (1572-1631) 


   Death be not proud, though some have called thee

   Mighty and dreadfull, for, thou art not soe,

   For, those, whom thou think'st, thou dost overthrow,

   Die not, poore death, nor yet canst thou kill mee;

   From rest and sleepe, which but thy pictures bee,

   Much pleasure, then from thee, much more must flow,

   And soonest our best men with thee doe goe,

   Rest of their bones, and soules deliverie.

   Thou art slave to Fate, chance, kings, and desperate men,

   And dost with poyson, warre, and sickness dwell,

   And poppie, or charmes can make us sleepe as well,

   And better than thy stroake; why swell'st thou then?

   One short sleepe past, wee wake eternally,

   And death shall be no more, Death thou shalt die.





kerk_hiraeth: Me and Unidoggy Edinburgh Pride 2015 (Default)

   TITLE: Que Sera, Sera aka. Doris' Day

   AUTHOR: kerk_hiraeth

   FANDOM: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (au for canon from Welcome to the Hellmouth / The Harvest)

   LENGTH: 500

   CHARACTERS: Xander; Jesse & two (count'em, two) Willow's;

   SHIP: Xander/Jesse;

   A/N: Very soon after I posted my first story in twenty-one months, I began to get images that confused me, until I also began to wonder what might have come to pass if someone other than Jesse had been taken by Darla during the pilot episode(s).

           This was the result. As always getting the story to fit the parametres was the most fascinating of exercises. I cannot express how much I have missed that.

          Also this is the tune that is referenced.


       He woke, as he always did, with the dawn; not troubling too much with the getting dressed. He'd be back in bed before very long anyway.

    A tiny noise had him looking down as a tiny body; stirring at the sudden absence of warmth, snuggled tighter to the rising chest on the other side. Lifting the baby; pausing on the way only to turn the heating on in the room that would become the child's, he carried her down to the kitchen.

   Carefully he laid her on the changing mat, he got the makings of their breakfasts together and started before he began the messier business of changing diapers and making sure she was fed.

   Ready for the next poop.

   Pulling out a draw under the table; everything he needed already laid out, a smile made him feel warm in the knowledge that someone knew him so well.

   Dark memories of his own family intruded, but a discontented noise brought him safely back to the present.

   By the time he heard the shower running diapers were changed; baby fed, and breakfast ready. Just time to get the coffee ready before arms wrapped themselves around him and a kiss was planted on his neck.

   Silently then they watched as their little girl; never to know her Slayer mother, shifted contentedly; already in the carrier, ready for the creche.

   As he watched Jesse eating his breakfast Xander pondered on the gawky teenager he'd known at Sunnydale High who'd somehow become an award - okay he'd been runner up, but that school had never won anything - teacher.

   Helping Jesse secure the straps, Xander impulsively took the tiny hand grasping Jesse's thumb and kissed them both.

   Jesse touched noses with his husband; whispering, as he'd done so many times before, “Do you ever wonder where we'd be if that vamp hadn't taken Willow?

   It was rhetorical, saving Xander from lying. 

   He'd thought about it too many times; if Jesse had been taken; what he'd be if it had been him.

   Watching Jesse, singing that same tune he sang to this Willow every morning, as he set off on his half hour trek to school, he thought of it once more but, as he shut the door behind him, he began to go through all he had to do before he met Jesse later and they went over to Chez Summers for his small birthday bash.


   Laughing at himself, he stole a cookie, and walked upstairs. 'How the hell did I get to be forty!'

   Thoughts of their school pal; best of the Three Caballeros', they both agreed, to the fore; he wondered what high powered career she'd be over-achieving at if he hadn't been forced to kill the monster she had become.

   Shaking his head vigorously he settled into Jesse's side, of course, of the bed and fell asleep; that tune playing in his head, contented and grateful, even with a couple of dozen teenage hormone bombs he was supposedly responsible for, at how his life had turned out.


   The future's not ours to see, 
   kerk hiraeth 


kerk_hiraeth: Me and Unidoggy Edinburgh Pride 2015 (Default)

     TITLE: Happiness is a Warm Gunn

     AUTHOR: kerk_hiraeth

     FANDOM: Angel the Series; post-NFA (coda for my au x-over story The Loneliness of the Long Distance Hero – see the link below for full list of x-overs)

     LENGTH: 150;

     CHARACTERS: Charles Gunn; Alonna Gunn (in abstentia); Cordelia Chase; Illyria; Gwen Raiden; River Song;

     'SHIPS: None; except the familial one; though there were canon ones between Gunn & Gwen &(if only by implied future possibility) Gunn & Cordy;

     A/N: This is my first story since February 2017. Not wishing to discuss too much the 'hell' I've been through; nor the good times & moments, I shall just instead thank with all my heart the inestimable [personal profile] elisi without whose persistent faith; encouragement & friendship this moment would not have come. Not only for that, but for the fact that the story that inspired this was written for her as well.

             Here is the link to that earlier story (please comment on that here if you wish to comment on that as well, as I no longer have proper access to that old account) .



        The fight kept bringing them back to him; or they brought it back with them for surety that he hadn't fled the field with his still oozing blood.

     Illyria surely sensed her; Gwen paused for a few moments too. As his senses failed he thought he smelt and heard that piratical woman with the hair as well.

     Kneeling in his blood; the oily rainwater, and other stuff she never touched him; just stared and worked to keep him awake.

     Only when; his eyes long closed, he heard a breath, then her voice softly singing the same song he'd sung to help her sleep did she take him; slipping into sleep, into the warmth of her embracing arms.

     His last thought as he felt the comfort of knowing that he would wake; in this world, was appreciating the fact that Cordy had known how much seeing Alonna again would heal him.




      For true love is inexhaustible; the more you give, the more you have. And if you go to draw at the true fountainhead, the more water you draw, the more abundant is its flow. Antoine de Saint-Exupery


      kerk hiraeth



kerk_hiraeth: Me and Unidoggy Edinburgh Pride 2015 (Default)
   Last of three poems for Transgender Day of Remembrance. 



   Formally Known

     Who they were is no more

     formally known before passing

     resurrected at the bequest

     of one person, their very self

     the butterfly is born to fly

     from the form that came before

     once thought the perfect shape

     normality then transformed


     the questing one journeyed far

     beyond the walls that defined

     security beloved by all

     now the chains that hindered life

     cast aside though some may ask

     the garbs then worn to replace

     manacles no longer bound

     to discover freedom's bliss


     now the conflict has been resolved

     the balance turned to find itself

     when safeguards are not enough

     what once nurtured is denied

     disregarded for health's sake

     the deepest lies are unwound

     when the mask is out aside

     one shall live, the other dies.


   © 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180618.

   The poem “Formally Known” was inspired by my friends who are discovering their identities, Sean Green


    kerk hiraeth 
kerk_hiraeth: Me and Unidoggy Edinburgh Pride 2015 (Default)
   Second of three poems to commemorate Transgender Day of Remembrance 2018. 

      Freedom by Megan Rae


        I hear your voices screaming,

        saying that I'm a monster, some disgusting thing

        But I am more than you allow me to be.


        I am brave, I am a phoenix,

        I'm rising from these ashes of my lies.

        A life wasted in regret, fear, and self-condemnation.


        Now that I am unmasked.

        you choose to ostracize, belittle, and reject.

        Your words cannot touch me now.


        I am more than a number,

        a “thing” you can stake a claim to.

        I am a human being with a soul, with a name.


        My sin was hiding the truth.

        But now that it is in the light,

        You hate that you can no longer control me.


        I am free.



     kerk hiraeth 

kerk_hiraeth: Me and Unidoggy Edinburgh Pride 2015 (Default)



First of three poems I have just looked for and found for the Transgender of Remembrance.



FTM by Aaron




I am male

I am human

the word “Girl” is like getting stabbed in the chest.


Getting called a girl

a lady

a female

but no, I am male.


People don't understand the pain of dysphoria

they don't understand the pain,

getting called the wrong name

or the wrong gender.


People say it's

a phase

it's a choice,

but they will never understand,

I was born this way.


I can't change who I am and I don't want to

I am transgender

I am human

I am proud.



written by Aaron (14 & FTM)





kerk hiraeth



kerk_hiraeth: Me and Unidoggy Edinburgh Pride 2015 (Default)



     This, after a time, became the inspiration behind my characterisation of Faith in the FemaleHusband!verse.


   It comes from Act 1, Scene 2 of William Shakespeare's The Tempest; best version of which; on screen at least; not seen a stage version as of yet, was that starring Helen Mirren.



     Ariel's Song


   Come unto these yellow sands,

   And takes these hands :

   Curtsied when you have, and kiss'd,

   The wild waves whist,

   Foot it fealty here and there ;

   And, sweet sprites, the burden bear.

   Hark, hark!

   Bow, wow,

   The watch-dogs bark :

   Bow, wow,

   Hark, hark! I hear

   The strain of strutting Chanticleer

   Cry, Cock-a-diddle-dow.



     In an early image I have of the Faith in that 'verse, she is thinking of herself as “having come back to be Tara's faithful guard-dog”; though she takes over from another stalwart of Buffy fandom with apparent equanimity enough, and indeed comes to discover sides to her own self-identity that she never would have seen if she had not returned to the Slayer fold. 

   Though my muse has been very uncommunicative since February of last year I still very much hope that 2018 will not be my first barren year for more than a decade. 

     kerk hiraeth 





kerk_hiraeth: Me and Unidoggy Edinburgh Pride 2015 (Default)

   Just feel like posting this. Browsing through one of my editions of Shakespeare; this just started resonating in my brain and will not go away. There's another that I might post soon as well. 


If we shadows have offended,

Think but this – and all is mended –

That you have but slumber'd here

While these visions did appear.

And this weak and idle theme,

No more yielding but a dream,

Gentles, do not reprehend;

If you pardon, we will mend.

And, as I'm an honest Puck,

If we have unearned luck

Now to 'scape the serpent's tongue,

We will make amends 'ere long;

Else the Puck a liar call;

So, good night unto you all.

Give me your hands, if we be friends,

And Robin shall venture amends. [Exit.


 Everything is not ok... 


kerk_hiraeth: Me and Unidoggy Edinburgh Pride 2015 (Default)
  As soon as I saw this amongst the half-dozen postcards with poems released by the Scottish Poetry Library for National Poetry day I knew I had to send it to [personal profile] elisi , even though it's in Scots and both of us are going to have to do a bit of exploratory translating to get the full gist of it. I have posted off the postcard this came on, as well as a full set of the poems for this year but, as I knew they wouldn't arrive in time for the day itself and I wanted to doubly make sure she saw it before this weekend I decided to finally post something on this DW. 

  So here 'tis. 

  Doctor Wha 
     Wha's Doctor Wha? Whabetter kens nor he 
  that jouks the yetts and rides the birlin wheels 
  a time and space, shape-shiftin as he reels 
  through endless versions o reality? 
  Bit dis he ken himsel? Weel, mibbe sae, 
  yet wha's tae ken gin aw that's kent by Wha 
  maks mair or less or better sense ava 
  nor whit we ithers ken, or think we dae? 
  The universe is fou o parallels: 
  wha's like us? Hunners? Thoosans? We oorsels 
  micht be mere glisks o life-forms yet tae be. 
  Whit's real? Whaur's here? 
  When's noo? Wha's quick or deid? 
  Wha's jist a thactie in anither's heid? 
  Wha's Doctor Wha? Wha better kens nor s/he? 

   James Robertson 

   Hope you enjoy both poem and Jodie Whittaker's debut. 

   Kerk Hiraeth

At a loss

Jul. 18th, 2018 10:27 pm
kerk_hiraeth: Me and Unidoggy Edinburgh Pride 2015 (Default)
  I am at a loss as to what to do with this journal. 

  There is no way it seems of getting the stories, which are the main reason I wanted to set up this journal to look the way I want then too, and I hate html with a fiery vengeance. 

  I didn't want to leave the page blank so I thought I'd better leave a message so people can comment if they wish. 

  Added to my previous issues it seems I cannot copy & paste with this style and there isn;t currently another one that I feels adequately displays my wish to support the trans community. 

  I did try, as the helpful (not) reply to my help request suggested the beta post (or whatever it's called), but with no rich test ability that I can detect I gave up again. 

  At the moment I don't know whether to go back to adding people or not, since I never got many comments there, but I certainly have no desire to go back to lj. 

  I have had some good things happening; seeing birds gradually coming to use the feeder and water bowl chief amongst them; also seeing elisi again at York Pride but everything feels off and going through my old story posts, and seeing missing comments and comments to which I cannot respond because I was never notified of them, and ones by friends who have died, or apparently disappeared from contactabiltiy have all added to my growing sense of despondency. 

 Saw some comments that I was previously unaware of that really shook me. If my writing was really that good why would people not comment? Why leave me in limbo? 

 Of course I can hardly complain as I stopped reading fanfic; except on rare occasions, a long time back. 

 In short things are not good, and I have, for the moment, run out of belief that they will get better. 



kerk_hiraeth: Me and Unidoggy Edinburgh Pride 2015 (Default)

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