Ramblings of an Old Kweer

 
  This was my first seriously written fanfic for something like 15 - 20 years; that was worth anything.  There was an extremely long story that was clearly going nowhere; especially with the tendency of most people not to offer feedback (guilty of that myself a lot these days; mostly because I rarely read fanfics these days); as well as another fic that really needs to be radically re-written, and is quite obviously full of the rage I was feeling at Tara's death at the time. 
  This was also written back in the days when I still believed that WillTara was the only pairing for either character; before I started seeing beyond the romantic film that filled my vision at the time. 
  I still love it though; it was the first story I ever wrote that somebody messaged me and asked if they could archive it. Don't think people do that these days, sadly. I can tell you that after that I walked around for days with an expression not unlike I imagine Willow wearing the morning after 'Hush'. 

  TITLE: The Dance of the Happy Little Toaster
  AUTHOR: kerkevik_2014 
  FANDOM: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (S4)
  CHARACTERS: Willow Rosenberg; Tara Maclay;
  'SHIP: WillTara;
  LENGTH: 2000,
  RATING: 15 (for sexual references & language)
  SUMMARY: It's the morning after 'New Moon Rising' (BtVS S04 E19); Willow wakes up in the arms of Tara.
  A/N: 1) I have decided to rate these, at least on my own journal, using the UK film ratings system as this seems much more sensible to me than the experientially homophobic and misogynistic MPAA ratings – others may disagree, and I shall adapt them where they are cross-posted to fic journals with different systems. Naturally there will be border disputes for which I shall defer to the lj's concerned; unless I feel the rating there unjustified.
          2)There are references to a song by The Beatles; the 'Puppy' episode of Ellen DeGeneres' eponymously titles sitcom; a movie that, at the time I wrote this, I had not scene that was referenced in the S3 episode, 'Something Blue', and gave me the title, and finally the last line is shamelessly stolen from what I recall as the very first Lesbian movie I ever saw (not sure of the factual nature of that), but the line has definitely stuck with ever since, called 'Lianna'.
          (nb.) shortly after I first posted this story, I think, on the now defunct (with much regret on my part for the loss of so much fan history; poetry; fics and comments) willtara yahoo group, which led to it being included on the largely moribund sites at http://mysticmuse.net/authors/rayharley/danceofthehappylittletoaster.htm & http://nha.magical-worlds.us/viewstory.php?sid=3435 – it's also posted at http://www.ralst.com/DanceHappyLittleToaster.HTM (if you have seen it elsewhere, please let me know and I will be delighted to include the links), I actually got to see 'The Brave Little Toaster' at a Dundee cinema, and rather enjoyed it.
         So thank you very much to whoever got that line into the script for 'Something Blue'.
         Also there was a reading on a web/radio/podcast site that, as I recall, was principally devoted to what they called 'wiffy'; then the name for Willow/Buffy shippers; though I never got the chance to hear it, and can no longer find anyone involved with the site who may have access to a recording I can download or listen to. If you have any information that could help I should be most appreciative.

   Willow stirred from her slumber just as false dawn was creeping into the room. She opened her eyes carefully, not totally aware of where she was... until her nudity hit her.

   She was naked! In Tara's bed!

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

 
 “Wow!”

   She gasped, hushing herself instantly.

   And 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 an entirely different matter.

   Low-class, chocolate honey-filled, high-caffeine... lust-lovin'.

   Wow!

   She glanced at the sleeping 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 turned a straight girl' toaster.

   She giggled once more, then smirked as she noticed the tiniest hint of drool on Tara's cheek. If she hadn't been so frightened of waking her up she would have kissed it away.

   Wow.

 
   Then, stroking hair away from Tara's face, she dared to kiss her anyway.

   Ever so slightly; ever so carefully; ever so daintily, on the forehead.

   Closing her eyes she breathed in the still sweaty scent of her lover.

   Her lover. Tara was her lover.

   Wow.

   It was an established fact now. No going back.

   She snorted as she fought back a laugh. Hell, she wanted to shout. To cry out. She was too happy. She contented herself with another gentle kiss, this time on her lover's cheek, then held her breath as Tara stirred slightly.

   For several minutes then, she took in the sight of Tara breathing... in, out, deep in sleep. O goddess, but she was beautiful.

   Her lover. Tara was her lover.

   “She loves you. Yeah, yeah, yeah.”

   She was drunk. She wanted to tell the world. She felt like dancing, and singing. Instead she had to content herself with continuing to watch Tara sleeping. For over half an hour she simply watched Tara breathing, occasionally gifting herself the slightest, most delicate of kisses. On the cheek; on the forehead once, daringly, on the lips. She even stroked Tara's shoulder at one point.

   Finally she felt compelled to action. She could no longer keep her hands off her lover.

   Her lover, she repeated yet again.

   “Tara Maclay is my lover,” she whispered, breaking into a grin wider than the Grand Canyon.

   Was it possible to be too happy?

   Nuh-uh!

   Feeling compelled to laugh... to cry... to shout... to sing, Willow couldn't even begin to decide which impulse was the strongest. And she knew she couldn't bear to disturb the peaceful rest Tara was enjoying.

   She wondered if Tara was dreaming about her.

   Finally Willow carefully disengaged herself from the bedclothes; clambering, reluctantly, free of Tara's arm. Picking up a discarded; oversized t-shirt she grasped her overnight bathroon bag and, with one last look at Tara's peaceful features, she opened the door and slowly meandered down the hall to the showers.

 
    There, despite the early hour, she showered.

   Slowly, langorously, she ran her fingers over her body; touched her lips, brushed her nipples and stroked her belly, teased herself; hissing at just how ready she was, between her legs... everywhere, in fact, Tara had touched her the night before.

   Not bothering with a towel she stepped dripping from the shower and went to stand in front of one of the long mirrors. She placed a finger on her tongue and tasted it, just to see if it felt any different. She finally let out the long-suppressed laughter.

   It tasted like it had recently been in a shower.

   She was almost disappointed.

   For several minutes Willow stared at the face she saw in the mirror, studying the inanely stupid grin on the face of a woman she hardly recognised.

   Yet seemed to know for the first time.

   She seemed to be glowing. Was she glowing? Willow laughed again. Of course she was glowing! She was fresh from the shower.

   Fresh from her lover. Her lover Tara Maclay.

   She repeated it out loud and laughing, brushed wet hair from her face.

   Then she stared defiantly at the face in the mirror and declared...

   “Willow Rosenberg eats pussy!”

 

  Goddess watch over us all, 

  

  Kerk(evik) TehKek Hiraeth 

 

 

TITLE: Saved by the Jinn of their Teeth

AUTHOR: kerkevik_2014

FANDOM: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (AU)

CHARACTERS: Ocs; and (unnamed, and in order of appearance) Spike; Angel; Buffy; Vi; Rona, and Willow.

PAIRING: Implied Buffy/Spike/Angel, 

RATING: PG-13 

WORD COUNT: 820

PROMPT: Inspired by the current prompt at writers_choice and written as a birthday gift for kazzy_cee , whose birthday it was today,when this written; yesterday since it was posted after midnight.

 

 

 

Haafiz held on tight to Sargon; too small to swim, as Haalima, his beloved Sabeen's only girl, and a dreamer of magical tales; learned beyond his fathoming of so many things, swam; one arm held tight to the prow of the sinking lifeboat, straining as she drank in the salt waters of the Aegean, trying with superhuman strength for a fifteen year old girl to save what was left of her family.

 

Sabeen and the other boys might still be alive.

 

Might.

 

That was all the hope he had left; try as he might, he could not let go of that hope. The last sight he had had of his beloved and his other sons was of them running for shelter after, mercifully he supposed, narrowly avoiding being aboard the last boat trying to reach the ship they had safely reached.

 

Now he watched helplessly as Haalima tired, even as the island shore came into sight.

 

“Baba!”

 

Haafiz opened his eyes, closed only to pray for salvation for the three of them, and their missing family.

 

He cried out to the Prophet himself as he saw nothing of Haalima; she was gone beneath the water. Then, even as he prepared to sacrifice himself and Sargon in the hope that his wife and other sons would be saved, a ragged short-haired head surfaced; holding beyond all miracles a spluttering Haalima.

 

The creature, some kind of man, though so pale that he was almost the pallor of a ghost, swore in the tongue of the americans; though of a different accent. With a huge effort, he thrust Haalima into the lifeboat; into her father's arms, even as a dark-haired; as pale, man-thing, with the help of a woman, began to lift the prow of the lifeboat free of the water.

 

“Bloody Heck! Didn't think I was going to reach her in time!” The woman retched as she expelled briny water from her lungs, leaving most of the swimming to her dark-haired companion, as she sought to bail water from the lifeboat.

 

“You pouffes okay here? Spotted another boat in trouble; think I can get it ashore on my own, but they're going to start sinking soon I reckon.”

 

The woman waved him away; unable to form true words as she fought the waters inside the lifeboat. Haafiz saw the lighter-haired one seem to blow the dark-haired one a kiss; say something in a foreign tongue Haafiz did not recognise; though the other two did.

 

The woman swore at him; making Haafiz redden at the thought of Haalima hearing the foul language from a woman. Then the man-thing who had saved Haalima swam away, mostly underwater; away from the direction of the shore they were now surely being pulled; somehow joined by two other woman, one pale and as red-haired as his beloved Sabeen; another darker skinned; almost as dark as the Abyssinian Priest who had attended the wedding of Sabeen's sister five years since; both now dead in the bombing of their home that had driven them to run for the sea.

 

Minutes later the woman was assisting Haafiz in reviving Haalima, and calming Sargon, after she had kissed the dark-haired one, before sending him off into the water again.

 

“Make sure that fucking idiot doesn't kill himself playing the hero, yeah?”

 

The dark-haired man thing laughed and, signalling to the other two to join him in rescuing their companion; if indeed he needed it.

 

Ten minutes passed before, with the three of them now safe in the hands of girls, who seemed as strong as they were; indeed as his Haalima had proved to be, the woman dived into the water, seeking to aid other survivors from the ship that had now disappeared beneath the Aegean.

 

Then his head turned as he heard badly garbled foulness in the arabic tongue aimed at a young girl Haafiz thought to be an Arab, who rose above two other who seemed Greek and seemed about to strike him with her fist.

 

“Fuck me,” he cried; holding up hands in the manner of surrender, “didn't say I wasn't going back out; just need a bre – break is all.”

 

The girl swore at him in a mixture of Kurdish and Assyrian, before rushing off to aid another young woman as two young men were pulled ashore.

 

Moments later; complaining with every step, though racing back to the rescuers and the rescued, the lighter-haired one was gone again.

 

Finally Haafiz feinted to the sand; feeling safe to do so as he saw Haalima; holding her crying younger brother in her arms; hugging him tight as she shed tears of relief herself.

 

He never saw their three saviours again; though the dark-skinned one came to talk to his daughter; together with another red-haired woman who had the sense of a magician about her. Haafiz sensed he was going to lose Haalima; in a manner, but she and they had reached safety.

 

He turned his mind to how he was going to reunite the rest of his family again.

 

 

Goddess watch over us all,

Kerk TehKek