kerkevik_2014: (Default)
 
 
   Had a beautiful day travelling up the east coast of Scotland to Aberdeen; dark already, but I've had a wonderful time listening to a radio programme about the male voice choir formed around Aberfan two years after the disaster forty-eight years ago. Set my spirit tingling listening to them, 

 Here's a drabble. 


   TITLE: Lost in Transition

   AUTHOR: kerkevik_2014 / [personal profile] kerkevik_2014 

   FANDOM: Buffy the Vampire Slayer

   CHARACTERS: Buffy Summers; Rona;

   LENGTH: 100,

   SUMMARY: With all the Slayers in the world; new ones coming all the time, without having to be one who replaces another who's died... what futures will open up for Slayers who don't want to be on the frontline anymore, now that this is an actual option?

   A/N: Rona seems to be getting into my muse's brain, which is strange in one way because it wasn't until the final episode, really, that she really impinged on my consciousness. There's definitely more to come from her.

 

     “You play so beautifully; why not use it?

 

   “It... Refuge.

 

   Buffy could see where Rona was coming from.

   “You and Vi...

 

   “We're not a couple.

 

   “... are amongst my most  trusted field commanders,” she continued, ignoring the unneccessary interruption. “Ever wondered why?” Buffy added, standing up.

   She moved to sit beside Rona, on her; silent, side of the desk.

   “That bond you have; you've built lives of your own.

 

   Rona smiled, “She's a geek.

 

   “She also loves teaching; you both do.

 

   Rona glanced up; honestly perplexed.

   “So teach, “ Buffy told her, who never learned. “Go teach the newbies how to life.

 

 

      Goddess preserve in these evil times, 

      

 


     Kerk(evik) TehKek Hiraeth

 

 


kerkevik_2014: (Default)
 
  

 

Second story in a row to feature Rona; only the second with Vi though I think. One of the more memorable things, other than a couple of spectacular episodes, about a rather dreary final season were these two characters; that moment on the bus after the final battle!

 

 

TITLE: The Pitfalls, and Potentials of an Office Friendship.

AUTHOR: kerkevik_2014

FANDOM: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (AU version of Jet Wolf's BtVS Continuation)

CHARACTERS: Vi; Rona;

LENGTH: 100,

SUMMARY: Walking the line between friendship and more can be tricky...

A/N: Always wanted to explore some of the stories of those potentials we saw in S7; especially Rona and Vi, who seemed to form an unexpected bond. They've both appeared in various stories over the years; Rona especially appearing in a command role a couple of times. This will hopefully be the first in a series exploring their relationship, which I can promise will not follow a stereotypical path. This is set at a celebration of a significant anniversary in the history of the Slayers.

 

 

The party had carried on well into the morning.

Neither Vi, nor Rona could vouchsafe that, since they'd ended up swimming naked in the pool in the gardens; foolish since they'd been drunk.

They'd kissed whilst drying each other off; waking up still entangled.

They'd grown to be fast, though not inseparable, friends since meeting as Potentials in the war against the First Evil.

While neither regretted it, neither had they expected it either; nor were they quite sure what to do about it now it had happened.

Though they were both sober when they did sit down to talk.

 

 

 

Goddess watch over us all,

 

 

Kerk(evik) TehKek Hiraeth

 

kerkevik_2014: (Default)
 
  

 

Finally reached my teenage fic; which is kind of appropriate when you think about it. Had a rip roaring start to the year but, despite not posting much of anything, let alone fics, this year I have never felt a loss of confidence that I wouldn't write more. Very slowly my stressed asperger-y coping mechanisms/routines have begun to abate and the ideas that have been swimming around in my head have started making their way onto the page; now into a form that can be posted. I actually posted a couple of drabbles I'd forgotten about, so I have written more than I thought; which feels good actually.

Anyway to that thirteenth story, which links the past of the Slayer line with the future; both in terms of Buffy's story, but also the story outside the show's universe, because of a character that was created for Angel the Series. 

Title was inspired by this poem ~ www.poetryfoundation.org/poems-and-poets/poems/detail/54584 ~ which I went looking for when I could not find a title I was happy with.

 

 

  TITLE: The Rivers of Command

  AUTHOR: kerkevik_2014

  FANDOM: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (post-s7)

  CHARACTERS: Buffy Summers; Rona; Dana;

  LENGTH: 200,

  SUMMARY: Slayers are heroes, but Slayers are also Human; with their own Human flaws and prejudices. Slayers are also women; denied, or relieved of; as you perceive it, the menstrual cycle. This also means that those who might wanted children were denied the choice of whether to have their own. Until Tara, or Willow, dependant on which 'verse you perceive this story to be set, set about breaking one of the chains the first Watchers imprisoned them with. This is a story set in the early days of a new reality for the new Slayers born of the spell that created the Army the Watchers never wanted to see.

 

 

     Buffy listened; not too fond of what she heard.

   Or that Rona wasn't interrupting, until she turned; apparently staring into nothing, since Buffy wasn't there, dipping her head to one side, gently; twisting it sideways, inclined sharply.

   Buffy sensed a faint chuckling before the subject of the humour appeared in front of her; tampon pretty obvious between her legs.

   She was impressed; not least by the way Dana walked straight through them to stand alone about forty feet beyond their collective embarrassment.

   Rona, Buffy beside her; divesting themselves of their underwear, joined her; passing either side of the chagrined squad of trainees.

Buffy started to shake her head; until she realised that Rona wasn't deferring command; informing her instead that she wasn't in command either.

Smirking, Buffy took a single step back in unison with her oldest Trainer.

   There was a single point of light; a pinprick really, that only a Slayer might see. Buffy caught Rona reaching down; then across to her, feeling something wet being daubed across her belly.

   It was menstrual blood.

   She smiled; Rona had made her choice.

   The three settled.

   Step by step, moving forward.

   The trap was set, they just had to wait for their victims to spring it.

 

 

 

 Goddess watch over us all,

 

 

 

 Kerk(evik) TehKek Hiraeth  



kerkevik_2014: (Default)

  
  

 

 

TITLE: 22

AUTHOR: kerkevik_2014

FANDOM: Buffy the Vampire Slayer

CHARACTERS: Buffy, Angel, Dawn, Rona, Chao-Ahn, various other characters being mentioned.

WORD COUNT: 1360

A/N: http://kerkevik.livejournal.com/19023.html contains the original version of this story; written before three characters; Satsu's wife (Gazaleh), Dawn's wife (Lisa, from “The Body”) and the Chaplain all became much clearer, and important, to my imagining of this world.

It was also written before I realised that Satsu & Gazaleh were connected so strongly to this older; polyamorous, version of Buffy.

Roughly two years after I first wrote in this Buffyverse; which I call the 22'verse, after this fic I began writing a series of drabbles for elisi 's birthday. I got badly detoured part way through that, though the initial image; with sound effects stayed strong in my mind. So strong it's taken more than three years to get my head back to where it needed to be to complete the stories.

I can't honestly say that the collection traversed the same path between part five and its conclusion that it did back then, but I have written other stories in this 'verse, and there will be many more; some, possibly peering back into Spike's adventures, as well as stories about the Slayers in those intervening years.

 

 

They never knew where they came from; every year, almost to the hour, they arrived.

Neither did they know who sent them. When the investigated, it always a different person; usually Human, and female, and always a friend to the sender.

They always sent a Council Operative; even Buffy couldn't get the Council she led to approve the release of an actual Slayer and, invariably, the word would come back that the return address 'was vacated within the last couple of days; rent paid up to the end of the month.

And always in untraceable currencies.

But she had a fair idea, since they always arrived in time for the anniversary of the night Buffy had been kicked out of her own house by Dawn and the others and it was always Dawn she remembered; Dawn she felt she'd let down by letting things get that bad.

The night she'd been held, comforted; strengthened to finish the fight by a stroppy, bitchy, poetic undead...

Whatever, wherever they were, they gathered at dawn for a breakfast of the contents of the packages; always as fresh as any guest of a five star Mayfair hotel could expect.

Nothing changed until the Slayers on the Council finally outnumbered the Watchers; when Buffy got Dawn installed as Council Head; together with Kennedy installed as Operations Chief of the newly-unified Intelligence Division.

Which, of course, meant she rarely saw either anymore; or their wives... especially Willow, because whither Kennedy etc...

Soon they had linked into the fact that it had always been the same woman; female usually; one of only two unconfirmed survivors of the Great Los Angeles Holocaust of '04, which had left the majority of southern California a blasted wasteland; LA itself a virtual no-man's land for Humans.

Once they knew for certain who She was, tracking down the identity of the sender, and his whereabouts was a cinch.

 

It had just turned dark on the evening of the twenty-fifth of June; two thousand and twenty-one of the Common Era, when Buffy sat down to review the daily reports from Senior Slayers across the globe.

She was on her fifth cup of very strong, and very bad – ironic, given they were based not too distant from the capital of one of the world's largest coffee producers – when a knock on the door announced the unexpected arrival of her kid sister, who entered the room with a very sober expression on her face.

Buffy saw past Dawn and saw others behind her, especially Satsu. A brief smile crossed her lips; she and the Head of Asian Operations always had a good time whenever she was at HQ; meals; walks, a fuck; as Satsu was wont to put it, despite she being a married woman, to an Iranian Ironwoman Buffy had ironically introduced her to, though her boss always countered she was as equally married to her destiny.

Then she saw Kennedy grasping Will's hand, which she rarely ever did; Dawn's wife standing behind them; Faith with Xander's arm around her shoulders; even rarer.

Her eyes travelled back to the wet glow to her sister's eyes; the bleakness of her expression, then back to the door as Vi and Rona, currently her senior Slayers based at, their always mobile, HQ; then Riley and Sam entered, holding the door wide as Angel pushed Giles in his wheelchair into the room.

Buffy felt a chill run through her; heart turning to a heavy lump forcing unwanted life through her veins; forcing her eyes down she stared blankly at the sheet of paper she'd been about to sign off on.

Insensibly she placed the black pen down, and pulled a victorian-era eagle feather quill pen that had been a reverse wedding gift.

Carefully, hiding the turmoil of her emotions, she dipped the nib into an inkwell.

Carefully she tapped off the excess, and inscribed a red number one in one of the columns; where she had been about to mark a zero in black. Laying down the pen she looked up as Dawn; hand stroking Buffy's hair placed the transcribed message in front of her sister.

Carefully She leant into Dawn's comforting arms as her eyes; brain took in the message that Chao-Ahn had sent from the West of Ireland.

Chao-Ahn's English was much better written, than spoken, but a smile threatened as she recalled the jokes that passed around the commissary at her exaggeration of her accent whenever she'd been regaling newbies with tales of slaying.

Having spoken to the inhabitants of Clonteach, I regret to report the death of William Pratt; known as Spike, this last seventh day of May, in the two thousand and twenty-first year of the Common Era. The Anglican Pastor; Reverend Jean Renfield, and Catholic Priest; Father William Donachie, of the parish, both reported how he seemed to appear from nowhere to defend the Combined Children's Pipe Band from Demons who attacked during practice in the Community Hall. He fell before a female of a blue demonic visage could reach him; she killed the demons who took his life.

Before she could take note of something erased from the message Angel was suddenly standing in front of her; Nina brushing his cheek with a kiss as he leant in and brushed tears from Buffy's face.

We thought we'd have breakfast in the courtyard at daybreak. The Chaplain will lead us in a prayer before we sing a hymn that he liked... if that's okay with you?

Numb, and simply grateful not to have to do too much thinking, she grasped his hand; feeling strange still over the unaccustomed heat it held, and squeezed it as everyone gathered around her; sharing an communal grief at a fallen comrade; at her loss, and the sense of their common mortality it all awakened.

They'd all known he was out there somewhere; somehow managing to make the Scarlet Pimpernel look as hard to find as Clem when there was a Cat Show in town. Known, but nobody had ever spoken, about the newly-assigned Slayers who reported being rescued by an indescribable stranger, and his companion, who never spoke to them.

 

~~~~~

 

As dawn broke the next morning; eighteen years and eighty days after that night he'd held her; given her the faith; strength, and courage to go out and enter the valley once more, the Chaplain raised her lone voice and led them all in singing Abide With Me, his favourite Hymn; the only Hymn they knew he knew if she was honest.

Buffy broke the seal of the tin box containing, as always, several dozen home-made victorian recipe ginger cook... biscuits, and several boxes of old-fashioned; as in loose, no bags for him, English Blend Indian Tea.

She watched as the now well-practiced rituals of this, their very own tea ceremony were played out; noting with tearful pleasure the greater than usual attendance then, when everybody had their cups of tea to hand, she got up to speak.

This poem was one of his favourites. It was written, he believed, to commemorate the pilots who defended his birthplace from the German Luftwaffe bombers during the Battle of Britain. It goes something like this...

 

Remember those not here today,

and those unwell, or far away.

 

And those who never lived to see

the end of War, and Victory.

 

And every friend who passed our way.

Remembered as of yesterday.

 

It's absent friends

We miss the most.

 

To all, let's drink a loving toast.

 

To some muted sounds of china cups touching; softly spoken, “To absent friends,” they all toasted ALL those who'd been lost; even if they were all focussed on different people.

She heard Rona, from somewhere to her left, and behind, say (in a bad cockney accent), “Goodbye, you wankers!

Bittersweet smile on her face she sought out Angel and, catching his eye, they shared a nod of acknowledgement, of their shared love of their lost friend, and of each other.

 

Mind full of the last time she'd seen him; her lover, she raised her cup to Angel and mouthed a silent, “Thanks.



 May the Goddess watch over us all, 

 
 

 Kerk TehKek 








kerkevik_2014: (Hello Captain Kitty!)
 

 

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

 



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