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[sticky post] My Fics over the Centuries...


     this will become my archive post for my fics, which will be updated as regularly as I can manage until I am up to date.

Fics old; and maybe unwanted...Collapse )

  Here are two fics written way back in the first months after Tara's death in S6 of BtVS was broadcast here in the UK.

Two early successful, I think, buffy fics...Collapse )

  These six stories were all written as fanfics for The Chosen, as opposed to 'in the chosen!verse'. The first five got posted to the website itself; the last has only been posted to my previous lj. Hopefully one day it, it and the several fics I have written for that verse, will get posted to the website too.

Fics written for Jet Wolf"s The Chosen...Collapse )

  These five fics were written in the year following me joining livejournal in 2009. I no longer have posting access to this journal so, if you have any comments on them, can you send them to me here. I hope to change this at some point, but they will eventually be re-posted. Other details, including character; 'verses etc will be added as time passes.
My first lj fics 2009-10Collapse )These are all my fics from 2011; a CSI drabble; a crossover and a NuWho S5 fic; but mostly Buffyverse stories.

My fics for 2011; the pace increases...Collapse )April 28th 2014
  Looked like 2012 was going to be a slow year, but I seemed to hit the afterburners in August; especially helped by the series I started for elisi but have yet to complete. Must get on that.

Whew! What was I taking in the Fall...Collapse )

Please, if you have any comments on the stories mentioned above; particularly if you have advice on changes to The Anyanka Solution and ideas as to what could be used for future Buffyverses from Amshel; then email me at

  They will be most welcome.

  Goddess watch over us all,

POEM: Inner World by Janine Kain

This poem is written by a friend of mine, who owns the loveliest of dogs; though that's by the by. It was recently published in a collection called Place Settings: an anthology of words and images from East Perthshire, which came out as a result of Blairgowrie's Bookmark festival of 2014.
I thought it was worth posting here, because it deserves a wider airing. It also reflects something of me just now too.

  Inner World
  by Janine Kain

             My mind, like my home and world, are blocked off to all
others as slowly, brick by brick, the wall surrounded every ounce
of my fragile being. A defence some continue to say, others say a
retreat but I know most are totally unaware I am Gone. Such
was the turmoil of my inner world colliding with the overwhelming
stimuli of life. The wall became a necessity to survive and to keep
everyone and everything away.
           On the other side of the wall an old wooden ladder stood tall.
Nobody knows who put the ladder there against the wall. Perhaps
it had always been there like a subconscious thought that one day,
maybe one day it would be required. The last vestige of hope? Or
perhaps the ladder was the world reaching out and offering me a
second chance to embrace life.
           Yet, with the offer of help so close at hand I had to learn
to trust. I had to risk all and clamber up the wall from inside my
sanctuary. Once on top of the wall I had two choices. Remain stuck
or climb down the ladder to new beinnings.
          I climbed down.

 (published in Place Settings: an anthology of words and images from East Perthshire; edited by Joan Lennon, writer-in-residence for BOOKMARK - Blairgowrie, Rattray and the Glens Book Festival 2014)

Goddess watch over us all,

kerk tehkek


 No title that I'm certain of for this one, so I've gone with the first line thing.
 It's, again, not a poem I'm familiar with, though I believe I have heard it read before; on Poetry Please maybe? It's by John Milton, who is rather well-known, with whom I'm honestly only familiar with in terms of the, rather obviously famous, Paradise Lost.
 Still I think this poem rather suits my mood of today, so here goes...
I pitiful arose
  And soon a taper lighted;
And did myself unclose
  Unto the lad benighted.
I saw he had a bow,
  And wings too, which did shiver;
And looking down below,
  I spied he had a quiver.
I to my chimney's shine
  Brought him as Love professes,
And chafed his hands with mine,
  And dried his drooping tresses.
But when he felt him warmed,
  "Let's try this bow of ours
And string, if they be harmed,"
  Said he, "with these late showers."
Forthwith his bow be bent,
  And wedded string and arrow,
And struck me, that it went
  Quite through my heart and marrow.
Then laughing loud, he flew
  Away, and thus said flying,
"Adieu, mine host, adieu,
  I'll leave thy heart a-dying."
 And yes, I do imagine the Luggage (maybe) contemplating, in one of his deeper moments, the various fates of Rincewind and/or the tourist... (go here
Terry!Collapse )
to make sense of that comment)
 btw, if anyone can point me to what the poem would have looked like when originally published, I should be very interested.
Goddess be with us all,
kerk tehkek


Jun. 23rd, 2015

  Less than a tenner until next week, and I can't afford to buy anything even then. Bandwidth is running out, can't get laptop to connect to internet at the library; when their internet is working properly anyway. Friends asking me for money I don't have; help I can't give. Getting too much; feel like I'm cracking.
Have to stop doing nice things.
Fucks the world up too much.
Going to drown myself in the bath; feed the cats and see what time I 'can' get at the library while it can be bothered to open.

  (posted earlier, but the X-post failed, so re-posting it here now). Mood improved, but still in a very not-happy state of mind)
  First Pride yesterday for a couple of years. Travel was a little more expensive than I planned, but I still can't bring myself to deal with the bureaucracy necessary to get the new entitlement card that I am, or at least have been, entitled to. I call it a bus pass, because that's pretty much all I use(d) it for.

  Anyhow, I was there to support the Hot Scots guys, and to participate in the march. Not that I was in a good state to do anything much afterwards anyway.

  But Pride is more important than ever, as the generation that gave birth to these events are starting to leave us in numbers, with events from Uganda to Russia; Texas to Daesh controlled areas of Iraq and Syria prove.

 This year, with no living survivors (at all) of the holocaust - that we know of - in terms of it's gay, or 'Pink Triangle' victims, we cannot ever afford to forget what can happen when those rights that have been fought for are, as they so easily can be, taken away.

 To the photos...

 The doggy is eleven and, I think, called Jaffa (or something like that, He seemed to be enjoying all the admiring attentions he was getting. I've seen the couple he was with at previous prides, so I must put some effort into finding out who they are.

 Had a good time on the march, though I did let myself, foolishly, get de-hydrated. I felt over-heated. and a bit stressed afterwards, but I wasn't planning to stay much longer than I did in any case.

 Took a photo myself, of the guy who helped found Hot Scots FC, and who I was there to support; partly due to a fortuitous scratchcard win.

 This is Kev.

 Really glad I got out again; looking forward with a bit more confidence that I will actually go, to at least one Pride event, possibly three, in Northern Ireland this summer, as well as Glasgow.

 We shall see.

  Goddess watch over us all,


  Kerk TehKek
In the last hour the news that Charles Kennedy has died.

I can't believe it!




           A very strange and disconcerting thing has happened to me recently. I've had a story nominated for the Sunnydale Memorial Awards.

   For this ficThe SeekersCollapse )

   This may seem like not a bad thing, which is indeed true, but it's also something for which it seems my psyche is totally unprepared to deal with.

   This weekend I have been down in Yorkshire, and have not long been returned, visiting one of my best friends and her family.

  elisi you are a wonderful Human Being and I wish I'd grown up in a family like yours so very, very much.

   I have asperger's and I can get very hyperly over-excited in new and strange situations; exhibiting all the symptoms of full-blown panic attacks. This seemed to be on the edge of happening for a good part of early Saturday, as elisi was showing me around a small part of Wakefield (more about that in another post).

    Anyhow, to the point ie. that nomination for The Seekers.

    I have had a very strange and, even for me, who is not one who can easily accept compliments, unexpected reaction. Thank you so much for whoever nominated me; that has to be said first of all. I wouldn't want to take that back for all the world. Still I have found myself almost totally unable to know how to deal with this. Thankfully I've managed to have a relatively calm conversation with elisi about the situation.

    I couldn't have asked for a better friend in my time of need.

   This will have to be edited before posting; partly because the wi-fi on the train isn't free and won't let me use my dongle, but also because I want a sane person to look it over.

   Guess who? :-)

   Thank heavens for word is all I can say here. Hopefully this will all make sense when it is read, and I will get a few votes. To be honest I feel like I've already won though. Even getting no votes could change that. It has proved to me that I am, beyond all doubt, a very strange person.

    Thanking the Goddess for you all,


    Kerk TehKek

POEM: April Rise by Laurie Lee (1914-1997)

As previously reported, I hit a poetry motherlode last week when I ventured into a local second-hand bookshop. Today's treasured nugget is from The Penguin Book of Contemporary Verse (1918-1960); this edition being published in 1962.

The Poet is Laurie Lee, not someone I've read much of in the past. His wikipedia entry says this - Laurence Edward Alan "Laurie" Lee, MBE (26 June 1914 – 13 May 1997) was an English poet, novelist and screenwriter, who was brought up in the village of Slad and went to the Central Boys' School, Stroud, Gloucestershire. His most famous work was an autobiographical trilogy which consisted of Cider with Rosie (1959), As I Walked Out One Midsummer Morning (1969) and A Moment of War (1991). The first volume recounts his childhood in the Slad Valley. The second deals with his leaving home for London and his first visit to Spain in 1935, and the third with his return to Spain in December 1937 to join the Republican International Brigades.

April Rise by Laurie Lee.

If ever I saw blessing in the air
I see it now this still early day
Where lemon-green the vaporous morning drips
Wet sunlight on the powder of my eye.

Blown bubble-film of blue, the sky wraps round
Weeds of warm light whose every root and rod
Splutters with soapy green, and all the world
Sweats with the bead of summer in his its bud.

If ever I heard blessing it is there
Where birds in trees that shoals and shadows are
Splash with their hidden wings and drops of sound
Break on my ears their crests of throbbing air.

Pure in the haze the emerald sun dilates,
The lips of sparrows milk the mossy stones,
While white as water by the lake a girl
Swims her green hand among the gathered swans.

Now, as the almond burns its smoking wick,
Dropping small flames to light the candled grass;
Now, as my low blood scales its second chance,
If ever world was blessed, now it is.

Goddess watch over us all,
'tis ok to be Takei,
kerk tehkek


As previously reported I paid a visit to a local secondhand bookshop and hit a veritable goldmine of poetry books; helped by a three for a pound sale offer. I was going to post something else from this book, but that will wait as it's, strictly speaking, not a poem and I want to check to see if there's audio (or video) evidence of same online.

This, as it says in the subject line, is dedicated to woman_of_ a dear friend who has been awol for a very long time now. I'm sure I'm not the only one who misses her. The last contact I had with her was shortly after we both had to cancel trips to Writercon in Coventry.

I thought she might like this poem by a star of British comic poetry who I have known my entire life, from the old days where you had to have real talent to even appear on a talent show.

There's Some Mistake

Mirror, mirror. on the wall,
Where am I? I'm young and tall,
I'm not like that old bird at all,
There's some mistake . . .
So that old gal, I say again,
Is much too old and much too plain,
With glasses on a chain!
For goodness sake . . .

Mirror, mirror softly lit,
Where is my husband strong and fit?
Raconteur and wit,
There's some mistake . . .
I know my man and he's not it,
That bald and boring stooped old git,
He looks about to quit,
Give him a shake.

Where are my children young and free,
So beautiful for all to see?
They are not here with me,
There's some mistake . . .
They're scattered now, gone to achieve,
With partners I could take or leave,
In silent rooms I grieve
For old times' sake.

The old grim reaper's on his way,
To cut his corn; to make his hay,
The closing of the day,
And no mistake.
He runs his thumb along the blade,
And steps towards me from the shade,
I think I've overstayed
And start to quake . . .

Mirror, mirror, on the wall,
I don't like what I see at all,
You're heading for a fall,
You need a break.
So stand well back and mind the crash,
Here's the brick and there's the smash,
See? Younger in a flash,
A piece of cake.

May the Goddess watch over us all,

kerk tehkek


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