I decided sometime yesterday to quit prevaricating over certain changes I need to be making in my life. Not really to change, but to get them completed before I depart on that desert journey; if such it is to be. Therefore, while I am still seeking a middle name, I shall start training myself to use my new name; Kerk(evik) TehKek, and I shall also start re-posting my older fics here, so that people can read them and also comment on them here, where I can see the comments easily.
I've lost a lot of heroes in recent times; some have passed while still I find myself glad they are my heroes; others... not so much. I want to feel proud of myself when that time comes for me.
It is appropriate that this story, which was my first proper fanfic since I'd given up; sometime after Blake's 7 ended. It was also the first one I was truly proud of. There have been a couple of changes from it's first 'publication', which can still be seen here ~ http://kerkevik.livejournal.com/1791.html . Please be leaving any comments here of course.
TITLE: The Dance of the Happy Little Toaster
AUTHOR: Kerk TehKek kerkevik_2014
CHARs / SHIPs: Willow Rosenberg, Tara Maclay; WillTara,
SPOILERS / 'VERSE: This is set the morning after the conclusion of "New Moon Rising" in S4 of Buffy the Vampire Slayer.
A/N: There's references to a Beatles song; the 'Puppy Episode' of Ellen DeGeneres' sitcom, and another to a movie; referenced in S3's "Something Blue" which, at the time I wrote this, I'd never seen.
nb: shortly after this first appeared on a W/T website that movie; The Brave Little Toaster from 1987,
http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0092695/?ref_=nv_sr_1 , was shown at a local cinema in Dundee, at the Dundee Contemporary Arts (or DCA, as most people know it) and it really was very good; also bittersweet.
The last line is unashamedly stolen from the first lesbian movie, or queer movie of any kind, that I can consciously remember watching, and rather liked (the movie as well) because it was so wonderfully, deliciously, defiant. That movie was Lianna from 1983 http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0085838/?ref_=nv_sr_1 .
There must have been others beforehand, but that was the one that made me realise properly that a) I wasn't 'gay', but also that the kind of woman I wanted to be I could never be. Many years later I came to start describing myself as Queer, and realised also that I believed in something I refer to as the Goddess.
The Dance of the Happy Little Toaster
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, hi-caffeine... lust-lovin'.
She glanced over at the peaceful 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've turned a straight girl' toaster oven. She giggled once more; then smirked as she noticed the tiniest hint of drool on Tara's cheek.
If she wasn't so frightened of waking her, Willow would have kissed it away.
Then she stroked some 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.
It was a fact now. No going back.
She snorted as she fought back a laugh.
Hell, she wanted to shout; cry out.
She contented herself with another entle kiss; chastely, this time, on her lover's cheek.
Her lover. Tara was her lover.
She held her breath as Tara stirred slightly. Then, for several minutes, she took in the sight of Tara's breathing... in... out... deep in sleep.
Oh goddess, but she was beautiful.
"She loves you, yeah, yeah, yeah."
She was too happy; she felt drunk.
She wanted to tell the world. She felt like dancing and singing. Instead she continued to study Tara sleeping.
For over half an hour she contented herself with simply watching Tara breathing; gifting herself, occasionally, of the slightest 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 forced 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?
She felt compelled to laugh; to cry; to shout; to scream. She couldn't even begin to decide which.
And she knew she couldn't bear to disturb the peaceful sleep Tara was enjoying.
She wondered if Tara was dreaming about her.
Carefully she disengaged herself from the bedclothes, and clambered reluctantly away from Tara. She picked up a discarded t-shirt and grasped her overnight bathroom bag.
One last look at Tara's peaceful features, and she wandered slowly down the hallway to the showers.
There, despite the early hour, she showered; slowly, langourously, she ran her hands over her body; touched her lips, brushed her nipples, stroked her belly, teased herself (hissing at how ready she was) between her legs.
Everywhere Tara had touched her that night.
She stepped dripping from the shower and went to stand in front of a mirror.
She placed a finger on her tongue; tasting it. Just to see if it felt any different.
It tasted like it had been recently showered.
She was almost disappointed, but she finally let out the long suppressed laughter.
She stared for several minutes at the face in the mirror; studying the inanely stupid grin on the face of a woman she could hardly recognise.
Yet seemed to know for the first time.
She seemed to be glowing.
Was she glowing?
She 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; laughing as she wiped wet hair from her face.
Then she stared defiantly into the mirror; declaring loudly...
"Willow Rosenberg eats pussy!"
Goddess watch over us all,