IMPORTANT NOTICE
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2017 is the last calendar year that All Fool's Day will be celebrated on April 1st.
From 2018 All Fool's Day will be celebrated on June 23rd in the United Kingdom, and on November 7th in the United States of America.
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IMPORTANT NOTICE
TITLE: Bushwacked
AUTHOR: kerk hiraeth
FANDOM: Torchwood / Buffy the Vampire Slayer (22'verse) crossover
CHARACTERS: Spike; Captain Jack Harkness, m/m slash if you squint,
LENGTH: 250,
PROMPT: Fandom: Torchwood/Buffy; Characters: Jack Harkness/Spike; Premise: A case of mistaken identity occurs when Jack meets Spike and mistakes him for John Hart. Angst, perhaps? Prompt is a result of this post http://kerkevik-2014.livejournal.com/148179.html This is also in that series which, if you're following the titles, should really have given you the answer as to where I'm getting the inspiration for them from.
A/N: Ok, so this is the first of the ~ would you call them sponsored? ~ fics, for which someone is donating to 
a_phoenixdragon's GoFundMe here . Hopefully I've come up with something good enough to earn the money; if not well I will be contributing it myself. This was requested 
luckweaver as a gift for elisi . Had to sit down and finally watch some Torchwood; specifically the eps with Captain John Hart in them, though not because he's in here because prompt... ending is deliberately open so if you want to imagine stuff; go imagine.
Spike looked over Tiger Bay; wished he'd come here when it was worth something, and wondered where in Hell's name Blue was.
Someone was yelling, “John!”
He'd known a pain that visceral himself; day he thought of going back and could only see her face on that bathroom floor, long since swallowed by the Pacific, that made that pain an every moment experience.
Could be something as simple as Blue's inner Fred of course, but whatever had brought him here, should have brought her too.
A fist drug him painfully back to reality; nearly knocked him into the water too, if not for the fist turning into a hand that grabbed his ankle; saving him from a severe wetting.
They stared at each other for a few moments; one looking confused, as he passed from fury to mere puzzlement, the other just confused from a brain wobble that he'd have been proud to have received from Ali himself.
“You going to pull me up then, beautiful?”
Finally face to face with his bushwacker, Spike was told, “You even sound like him.”
“Remind you of someone, do I?”
He waved a hand, mumbled something about hair; sounding as if he was crying without shedding. Man was on the edge.
“Vamp could do with a good cuppa, “ he suggested to the retreating back of an old-fashioned RAF greatcoat, though he regretted adding that he liked it, when the guy seemed to physically sob.
“Darjeeling. I'll show you to the rift in the morning. “
Goddess watch over us all in these dark times,
Kerk Hiraeth
Had a horrible experience this afternoon; frightening how easy it is to feel your walls crumbling down around you; to start feeling like you're worth less than something scrape off your shows. Was crying most of them way home, repeating "Stupid!" 
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif){kind=small}
elisi from whom this is shared, to offer fics; likely drabbles, but they may turn out longer, for whatever the recipient thinks they are worth. If I don't come up with a story at all within a specified time then I will undertake to donate five pounds a time. I would suggest looking through my catalogue for thoughts on what I write but I don't really have a proper catalogue to browse, so I suggest approaching the aforementioned elisi, or red_satin_doll as to an idea of the kinds of things I write. ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif){kind=small}
femslash100 prompts; also Torchwood). If you have particular thoughts for stories that a_phoenixdragin might like, then please offer the ideas. ![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
a_phoenixdragon still needs help!
elisi:←And today's activism
And blowing every other version out of the water.
I've been missing your show for weeks; just wish I'd had the means to record at least your final show.
I've been dreading this news since he chose to retire his show.
R.I.P. You never failed to brighten my life.
Goodbye old friend.
TITLE: Return of the Watcher; Scene 116, INT Slayer's Office
AUTHOR: kerk hiraeth
FANDOM: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (set in the 22'verse)
LENGTH: 1,089 words
A/N: This is pretty much from Giles' pov; set more than twenty years after he fired by the watcher's council and at a time when he is increasingly paying the price for all those bangs on the head; not to mention his youthful indiscretions. Felt also that it was time to clue peeps in to why it is that Buffy is so personally invested in this new Slayer that I've been writing about. Finally, if there aren't enough clues into the title; go hunt down the script for Return of the Jedi and there you will find, during scene 116, my favourite exhange between Leia Organ and Han Solo.
“Are you sure about this?”
He sighed.
He was only just out of the hospital for fuck's sake; again, with his future prognosis bleaker and less optimistic than ever, but he was here; Willow having found another combination of herbs that would let him function more or less normally; which the drugs he had to take would not.
He wanted to yell at her, “Of course not! I'm in fucking agony every time I move and think and piss, and I have to be reminded who I am and what I'm about at least five times a day, but...”
But he pretended he was still Rupert Giles officially Head of the Watcher's Council and technically still Watcher to THE Slayer and just kept his irritation to a barely detectable level.
“I am quite capable of running this place... still,” the last wasn't as under his breath as he would have liked, but Buffy seemed to miss it anyway; irritatingly checking with Olivia and Faith, which perked up his mood no end.
Somehow he kept Ripper contained; let him loose and he'd never get her out of here. Distracted he missed a bit of their exchange; not that he could always follow what was going on on his best time.
“... besides we can always play naughty secre... “ Fortunately his self-esteem by Buffy's still sometimes extant prudish streak.
“I really don't want to know!”
Rupert found his mind fondly drifting back to the days when she saw his youthful; no self-delusion there, middle-aged self as ancient. “No... because you're old, and it's gross.”
Wickedly he wondered what she'd say if she knew just how active his and Olivia's sex life still was, even with him in a wheelchair virtually the entire time he was out of the house.
His face must have betrayed him because Olivia flicked his ear in warning; deciding to note that for later when they were home, he leant forward.
“Even you need a break once in a while Buffy; remember when you actually used to take a holiday?”
He thought to himself that the last actual break from Slayering she'd taken had been after the demise of The Master. Even this personal search, which they'd played on for weeks when she'd mooted the idea herself was a busman's holiday.
He settled back in his chair when Olivia placed a gentle hand on his shoulder; knowing how he would be plagued later if he didn't sit properly.
“I'll have more than enough assistance, and assistants fussing over me, “ every bloody moment of the day and night, which he kept to himself “so go find this new Slayer who's filling up your dreams.”
Lord knew she had to be important if Buffy was dreaming about her; especially talented as well if the best Slayers; demons and watchers they'd put on the task had only been able to find her after she'd been somewhere. At least now they knew where in the world she was likely headed, and a good idea why as well.
Buffy bloody well still looked over again at Faith; privately he cursed at Olivia for persuading him to have her here as well.
Ripper gritted his teeth while Giles watched and pretended to be calm.
Bloody-actual-Slayer Faith just shrugged; blowing smoke out of an open window, then walked over and bloody patted him on the head before Olivia gratifying kicked her shin.
“G-Man and me can keep a handle on things while you're gone and, “ fucking bitch winked at Olivia, “the Big O there can keep him happy. What'we need you for? Take a few B; you've earned it.”
Actually, when he reflected on it later, he had to admit he liked Faith's way of expressing that, as insulting as he found it at the time.
Of course it wasn't really anyone's words that clinched the deal; after all Buffy's own instincts would have driven her to go in the end.
After she'd driven everyone insane.
No, it was your basic act of naked bribery that did it.
Something metallic glittered in the sunlight as it was shaken; dangling from Faith's smoke-stained fingertips.
“The bike?”
His Slayer's eyes were almost ravenous as his at the thought of riding the first bike Faith had rebuilt; almost from scratch, back at their first HQ after Sunnydale's destruction; still the official organisational HQ actually. Giles remembered being told; threatened actually, that, No man; especially a watcher, G-Man, is ever getting their ass on her.”
He'd never wanted to be a woman, so had never mentioned the idea again.
Never stopped him dreaming about it though; once in a while.
Faith had done a beautiful job; damned thing looked almost as it must have done when someone would have driven it out of the shop sixty, or seventy years before.
To his Slayer's credit she actually hesitated... for all of about two seconds before almost taking the tips of Faith's fingers off. Three pairs of eyes followed her as; to them, almost in slow motion, she turned and walked out of her own office.
“Wow, our General...” Faith stopped as Rupert held his hand up, grimacing at the sudden movement.
“Not a jinxing word until she's on that flight to New York,” Faith muttered his own words back to him, as they turned to the window and watched Buffy; their General who, to their collective knowledge, not willingly taken an actual vacation day since college, slowly walked; seemingly talking; trying to convince herself?, aloud as she walked over to where Chao-Ahn was waiting to drive her.
'Bike's I can trust her with; cars? Not so much,' Faith's husband had once said. Giles made a note to call Xander to tell him he'd lost his bet; wondering to how much satellite calls to the Namibian desert were likely to cost these days.
Lowering his hand he made to say something to Faith, but she was already walking. “Don't worry, Roller Boy; I'm on it.”
“Fuck off,” he told her as she closed the office door behind her, politely snickering as she did so. Olivia was already there at the drinks cabinet.
“Whisky?”
Exasperatedly, he said, “You know perfectly well... “
Stopped by the hand palm faced toward him, he had to grin when she replied, “Who said it was for you?”
Returning with a half full tumbler she hunkered down in front of him affectionately brushing his cheek with that same palm.
“Leia, “ he said softly.
She stood and stepped behind him; kissing the nape of his neck.
“Han, “ she whispered back at him.
Goddess watch over us in these dark times,
Kerk Hiraeth
TITLE: Fanging It
AUTHOR: kerk hiraeth
FANDOM: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (set in the 22'verse)
CHARACTERS: Buffy Summers;
LENGTH: 450,
A/N: Just a Buffy POV set before the previous OC slayer/watcher fics posted yesterday. One thought though; always been uncomfortable, and very slightly annoyed and angry that so much of fandom is obsessed with who gets to 'bang' Buffy last. Why can't someone be comfortable with being on their own for a while; polyamorous, or just simply taking lovers when she wants; or needs. Or just being single for a while? Anyway, to a mature; thoughtful and pretty content with her lot General Summers; off on a busman's holiday.
She stole a fucking steam train!
Buffy was chuckling at the audacity of this slipperiest of new Slayers as she tramped away from the Sapling; more a tree after all these years. She'd been telling her Mom all about her for the past hour.
This, the first and oldest of the Slayer Central Academies; run now by the, mostly, retired Vi and Rona, was looking in good shape; though the block where her old office had been could use some repairs she noticed as she made her way; digging the keys Faith had given her out of her old leather jacket, a gift of Giles' (bit big, but she was wearing plenty of warm padding underneath it, so that was of no never mind), up the incline to the hut/shelter/garage Faith had built before they'd started migrating to where the most dangerous trouble spots were.
Opening the doors, she entered, grateful it was daylight since the light wasn't working. She pulled the tarp from over the Indian motorbike Faith had remodelled all those years ago, and hadn't ridden since she'd turned thirty.
Buffy checked it over; filled up with gas, and wheeled it out into the open. There was a mist coming in from the river; warnings of snow she recalled, though she planned to route herself well to the south of those worries.
Fortunately, though it would be cold most of the way, at least; where this Slayer was headed was reported dry.
She could hear Giles; her Mom, and Dawnie all warning in her head when she simply stowed her helmet.
“Easy rider, B; easy rider. Let the wind take your hair, and fly.”
She felt a melancholic twinge as that memory of Faith went through her mind. First solo ride on a bike; Triumph, as she recalled, after months of lessons from Faith and taken while she was naked, and still sweaty from sex with her ex-lover.
She'd nothing but ex-lovers now, but felt no loneliness out of it. All were friends; scattered all over the world, and most would drop things with demur to come if she asked; even share her bed, but she found she didn't need them for that comfort anymore.
She wondered if maybe she could take those blasted cookies from the oven.
Shaking her hair free from its scrunchy, she ululated fit to wake the sleeping Slayers not two hundred meters away.
Starting up her bike, she roared off towards the gates; turned left and head off towards the freeway downstate.
Nobody could hear her, but she was laughing out loud all the way; every once in a while channelling Furiosa from that Mad Max movie Faith was obsessed with.
Goddess watch over us all in these dark times,
Kerk Hiraeth
TITLE: Desert Jazz; Provider of Woes Extreme
AUTHOR: kerk hiraeth
FANDOM: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (set in the 22'verse)
CHARACTERS: OC; again, see the immediately preceding stories in this series for particulars on what my muse has revealed of them thus far.
LENGTH: 602,
A/N: This one does specifically refer to the Slayer's age when they began their relationship, so it's worth repeating that warning. The title comes from a sense of letting this story flow from three separate sources until they finally made sense; one of them being the original title of where this began; including inspiration from the music playing when I finished it.
She'd been fourteen; woman for years.
He was just shy of his fiftieth birthday; newly a dead man, only uncertain of time when he'd tried to arrest her, a drunk teenager; forgetful that he was no longer a policeman. Later that night, she'd rescued him from an unseen joyrider; fast even in those pre-Powered days.
Given a place by her fire he'd found himself unwilling to resist her when she sought comforts his moral code; anyone's moral code would have until a few days before, would have disgusted him.
When she asked him to kneel and suck her cock; fingers entering her vagina as he did so, he found himself shocked at the lack of his previously self-assumed homophobia.
He swallowed and she licked the residue from his lips before she fucked him to a tearful rest.
It seemed all so long ago; long before they experienced the realities of the hidden supernatural world on a backstreet in Bolton.
Not long after that she had felt something burn through her; screaming as she somehow managed to stop him from diving from the roof of a high rise in Leeds.
Calm; cold fear at the loss of him too soon driving her on, she persuaded him to follow her down to the Gloucestershire woods where she had been brought up, only to find her adoptive parents long gone into the ground.
They found a letter though; written in childish written, and expressed, Spanish, that told her of her origins in the deserts of the American South-West, brought to England by activists trying to help her birth parents escape.
Nothing on who they'd been, or why they'd not escaped.
Only that they'd been killed; last of their people.
She was Native American. Apache; Ute, they had no way of knowing, but she finally had a sense of, somewhere out there, being somewhere she could belong.
Word reached him that strangers were looking for her; people the demons who gave them shelter feared for some reason. They ran; he becoming sicker day by day, she determined to find a home of some kind; secretly already decided on finding a place to give him to the gods.
The Great Spirit was calling her home she decided.
He was too frail to argue; never had told her where home was for him anyway.
As they travelled; from demon hideaway to demon safe house, he studied and learned; all he had strength left to do until a mage gave him the makings of concoctions to keep him alive. She stole until they had enough to bribe passage to Newfoundland.
Now she was here; having got him home; her home, but just too late.
She slowly settled down on her haunches; ran trembling fingers over his cold features, finally kneeling and letting her grief flow.
She built a half-understood bier; drank the warmed remains of his last made coffee; ate the stew he never got to cook for her, and burned his body in a ritual more akin to his ancestors.
Dawn rose as the flames began to die.
She spilt her seed into the dying fire; dressed, putting on his favourite jacket, and turned resolutely towards her future, and away from the sunrise.
Buffy backtracked her to where the remains still smouldered; giving him the burial the Slayer she had come for could not.
She found a crucifix and mangled a few words; half-remembered from a movie, before she set off back to where she had left their new Slayer making camp.
The girl woke with a start as Buffy dumped her backpack.
“So... you got a name?”
Goddess watch over us in these dark times,
Kerk hiraeth
TITLE: How You Knew Them; This Stranger
AUTHOR: kerk hiraeth
FANDOM: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (set in the 22'verse)
CHARACTERS: OC; see previous stories for the particulars as they currently stand.
LENGTH: 200,
A/N: This double drabble is made up of very recently created material; written during the christmas break, so was not there in the original idea I had for this couple. I didn't know them as well three years ago. The tenses in the title are deliberate, before you point them out.
She watched; eyes veiled with unsheddable tears, as he moved; seeming painfully older than his years, as he moved around setting camp.
Fire set, he took the coffee makings from the back of the truck; setting the beans roasting before setting into preparing their supper.
It was all so painful; slow and deliberately done. She felt every painful motion; even from this distance. Eyes dropping momentarily; not in prayer, but as a preventative; though she began to pray anyway, before she turned away and disrobed, until finally she was wearing only the briefest of clouts; for a measure of personal comfort, not discretion.
Grimset; she started off into the dark; fiercely determined in her desire to run her grief away.
She was already out of earshot when he felt a slow; but still sudden cold pass through him. Too late he realised the import; stumbled as he reached for the coffee pot, cutting his thumb as he rose and fell forward; almost in the same moment.
He wanted to call her name, but it slipped his mind as he knocked the pot over the fire; snuffing out the flames before he fell into them.
A lone Coyote cried.
Goddess watch over us in these dark times,
Kerk Hiraeth
