Hiraeth (pronounced [hiraɪ̯θ])

   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

  AUTHOR: kerk_hiraeth

  FANDOM: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (FemaleHusband!verse)

  CHARACTERS: Faith Lehane; Tara Maclay; Buffy Summers;

  'SHIP(s): Faith/Tara; Buffy/Angel;

  LENGTH: 200; 

  RATING: R (for strong language); 

  A/N: Set in the FemaleHusband!verse (centred around a Faith/Tara relationship); this may be the start of a new series within that 'verse.

         The idea for this began in another fandom altogether; another poet too. My mind was on a Korean web series called She Makes My Heart Flutter released in November; also on the characters of Yun Sol & Seo Ji-wan and their friends Yu Na-bi & Oh Bit-na, from another Korean series, Nevertheless.

        Most of the story in the former takes place in a bar named after Emily Dickinson, but the original thought; which will likely inspire stories, evolved into stories inspired by Elizabeth Barrett Browning's Sonnets from the Portuguese.

       There's always been the thought behind this 'verse that; even though Faith & Tara become lovers; then a couple, that Faith does not see herself as a lesbian; neither does Tara. I've always wanted to explore that idea and now; finally, that may be coming to pass. Only time will tell on that, but both the title of this story, and the overall title of the series; should that happen, come from the first of the sonnets ~ a copy of which Angel gave Buffy as a gift in Helpless.

     Faith often wondered why, after she and Tara had become lovers; not friends or guarded and guard bitch, she still got creamy over dick.

  For fuck's sake; she'd teased 'B' enough times!

  But always ~ Always! ~ she'd needed to go out and fuck some piece of ass until he was barely able to function.

  She even thought of dick when she and Tara were fucking.

  Even now her brain would flood over some dick she'd fucked back in the day.

  Back in the day...

  She'd been barely a kid herself; fucking with girls to get some dick hard.

  And Tara was all woman.

  All woman.

  Stamina she had too; strapping Faith, a Slayer, until she herself could barely function.

  And what Tara could do with her...

  Fucking witchcraft was what it was.

  And yet.

  And yet...

  She never got wet over other women.

  Not even 'B' got her creaming.

  She never used toys.

  Always the real thing.

  Only what was the real thing anyway?

  She wasn't sure anymore, but still got wet over dick; not pussy.

  Something 'B' had said came to mind.

   'Guess now who holds thee?

    Death, I said.

    But then the silver answer rang,

     Not Death, but Love.'

   from Sonnets from the Portuguese (1845-6)

    by Elizabeth Barrett Browning

     one

   I thought once how Theocritus had sung

   Of the sweet years, the dear and wished-for years,

   Who each one in a gracious hand appears

   To bear a gift for mortals, old or young;

   And, as I mused it in his antique tongue,

   I saw, in gradual vision through my tears,

   The sweet, sad years, the melancholy years,

   Those of my own life, who by turns had flung

   A shadow across me. Straightway I was 'ware,

  So weeping, how a mystic Shape did move

  Behind me, and drew me backward by the hair,

  And a voice said in mastery while I strove,

  Guess now who holds thee? - Death I said. But, there

  The silver answer rang: Not Death, but Love.

   May the Goddess watch over you, and those you love, 

   kerk hiraeth 

   In readying The Dance of the Happy Little Toaster https://archiveofourown.org/works/21695866 for inclusion on A03 I have been reminded of other stories that are connected to that one scene; Willow telling Tara she is with the one she loves, and Tara blowing out the candle. I wanted to put all those stories in one post as they will be included, or linked to other series/verses eventually and I really wanted to have them together in one post.

 Latterly I will also post them separately, but this will serve as a small collected post for the extra fics. The dreamwidth post is here https://kerk-hiraeth.dreamwidth.org/3690.html for The Dance of the Happy Little Toaster. It should be noted that in all my depictions Willow is bisexual; Tara lesbian. Not that that matters as such; since I haven't yet found a way of exploring that.

   This is a trio of drabbles; re-edited, but originally written for the open_on_sunday prompt, (un)dress back in 2014. They all come under the theme of first times and are set in reverse order of occurrence. The first is firmly set in my femalehusband!verse; the second, while after the conclusion of 'New Moon Rising' is also; per my head canon also set in that 'verse; this is also true of the third which is pre-series for Tara's arrival on Buffy.

   TITLE: Eagles on the Wind

   AUTHOR: kerk_hiraeth

   FANDOM: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (post-series; femalehusband!verse);

   LENGTH: 100;

   CHARACTER(s): Faith Lehane; Tara Maclay;

   'SHIP(s): Faith/Tara;

   RATING: PG-13;

   SUMMARY: On their wedding night, Faith experiences Tara's true magic for the first time.

   A/N: Both characters are in their thirties when this occurs; in a 'verse that diverges from canon in S6.

     “Aren't we gonna screw?”

   Tara tutted at Faith; slowly undoing the buttons on her new wife's dress.

   “Didn't I promise you a special gift?”

   “Yeah, but...”

   Surrendering with a sigh, Faith began assisting in her disrobement; unable to hide her confusion. After all she'd walked in to find her Tara nude on the bed; dress and underwear strewn across the room.

   Hard not to make assumptions really; though she should have considered Tara's wicked sense of humor.

   Both naked they kissed.

   Tara put a halt to anything more; well tried anyway.

   Minutes later they were flying; Eagles on the wind.

   TITLE: Gentle as a Desert Spring

   AUTHOR: kerk_hiraeth

   FANDOM: Buffy the Vampire Slayer S4 (post-New Moon Rising);

   LENGTH: 100;

   CHARACTER(s): Tara Maclay; Willow Rosenberg;

   SHIP(s): Willow/Tara (willtara);

   RATING: PG-13;

   SUMMARY: Tara's pov on the moments after she blew out the candle at the conclusion of 'New Moon Rising'.

   A/N: Tara's journey; following on from the drabble below, toward the future seen in the one above; taken as a snapshot of her first night, as a lover, with Willow.

     It was Tara that broke their kiss; before Willow fainted.

   She could tell Willow wasn't entirely happy about that, but she wanted this to be good; better than good.

   Plenty of time for the ripping of bodices.

   This was Willow's first time; with a girl anyway.

   Gently was what Tara wanted; as hers had been.

   Her first with a woman anyway.

   “Tara...”

   Softly praying to the Goddess, Tara leant in to kiss Willow gently on the lips.

   “Now,” she whispered, with a mischievous smile, “let's slip out of something more uncomfortable.”

   She delighted as Willow blushed; redder than her hair.

   TITLE: The First Time

   AUTHOR: kerk_hiraeth

   FANDOM: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (circa S3);

   LENGTH: 100;

   CHARACTER(s): Tara Maclay; OC, ( Jan(an) al-Bukhari);

   'SHIP(s): Tara/oc / Tara/Jan(an);

   RATING: PG-13;

   SUMMARY: What was Tara's first time like?

   A/N: This is set on Tara's eighteenth birthday; two years prior to the conclusion of 'Family'. Tara's Girlfriend here is approximately five years her senior and will appear in other 'verses over time. She is Arab-American; her parents arriving as refugees when she was still a baby.
 

     “Tara... come here,”

   Less than five hours eighteen Tara; having known only fear; pain and tears, found the feelings she'd had toward girls; all her life, were very real.

   “Janan... I don't know what...”

   Not born from previous torment.

   Betrayed by her nervousness; still coming back from their lovemaking; uncertain in these unnavigated waters, her Girlfriend's voice gave her a compass.

   “Jan, please. I...”

   The Arab girl responded eagerly to the sudden; decisive, kiss from Tara; newly certain of who she was; what she wanted.

   “I want to use your name as often as I can...

   I love your name. “

   Oo-kay, so this is probably the single scariest fic I have written to date depicting, as it does, a sexual encounter between two women to fill a prompt requested by a bona fide lesbian. Not the first lesbian scene I'd written; but this was for someone. The original is from 2015, and is set a while after the one above written in 2014 for open_on_sunday; The Dance of the Happy Little Toaster is set the following morning.

   TITLE: Cresting the Wave

   AUTHOR: kerk_hiraeth

   FANDOM: Buffy the Vampire Slayer S4;

   LENGTH: 100;

   RATING: R;

   CHARACTER(s): Willow Rosenberg; Tara Maclay;

   'SHIP(s): Willow/Tara (willtara);

   SUMMARY: Tara introduces Willow to experiences she was not yet aware of.

   A/N: The original prompt was ~ Tara/Willow – Rimming ~ for drabbletag6 at femslash100 (sadly the comm does not seem to have been updated for some time), for which said prompter declared herself well pleased and made some very kind comments. Because it was most definitely outside my comfort zone it is stiil on of those of which I am proudest. Though erotic; rather than explicit, it is still very much a nerve-wracker to be putting out there again.
 

     Whatever Willow had expected from tonight, it wasn't this.

   Gasping at the magical chill, she sighed as it was replaced by a warm; probing, dampness which slowly set a musky; moist, warmth aflame within her.

   Minute at first; pressure built, curious; sensuous, teasing.

   Seeking for her key.

   Heat; mind fuzzy, a viscid wetness; intense, past even where she'd been before.

   Willow; brain sharply unfocussed, bit the crest of the wave into the pillow.

   Fingers; one wetter than the rest, stroked her back to lucidity.

   Tara raised her chin from where she was nuzzling Willow's ass.
 

   “Now the fun really starts.”

    kerk hiraeth  

    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