Archive | July 9, 2011

Coming of Age, FaeApoc, for Eseme’s prompt

I am taking prompts tonight and tomorrow; this is from [personal profile] eseme‘s prompt asking for goddesses.

Fae Apoc in its early history.

I will continue writing on these prompts tomorrow.

Ακανθα bowed before her father. Head to the stone, weapon at her side, wings swept back, she prostrated herself in front of a god she had never presumed to believe she would meet in person.

“So you are the child I begat so many seasons ago,” Ares rumbled. “You are meet and fine in my sight, child.”

“Thank you, Lord,” she murmured. She knew the forms well enough; her mother and the priests had drilled her as surely as she’d ever been drilled in combat.

“More than that, however,” he continued, “I have seen you in battle. I have seen you protect your people, and your land. Do you know the ban I have set upon My children, little prickly one?”

She did not bristle at the translation of her name, because she wished to live to see the sun rise again. “I have heard of it, Lord Ares,” she answered cautiously.

“I’m sure you have. The poets speak of it in so many words, but none seem to understand how simple it is. The children of Ares, my child, are those who protect.

“Yes, Lord Ares?”

“You have proven that this task you can do without fail, without faltering, without concern for your own well-being, despite the disadvantage of your sex. I am well pleased with you, and it suits me to give you a gift.”

Beware the gifts of the gods. “Thank you, Lord Ares.”

“There is a city near your village, a city which has of late been under siege. Take your mother, and your siblings. This city is yours now, Thorn of Ares, Prickly Sword. They shall worship Ακανθα there, as long as you remain worthy.”

She dared raise her head, now, to look at him. “You would place me as a goddess, Lord Ares?”

The god was smirking. “Your conception did that, Ακανθα. I give you your birthright.”

Ακανθα. Lily’s ancestor? And Acacia’s?

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Frying Pan, Fire – Tir na Cali – Lilfluff’s Prompt1

I am taking prompts tonight; this is from [personal profile] lilfluff‘s prompt regarding new Tir na Cali captives

Tir na Cali, and seems to be an intro.

They got pants, at least. And shirts. Well, the girls got skirts, but the idea was there: after what was probably over a week with no clothes, nothing to their names but the ugly plastic collars their captors had locked around their throats, they had pants, shirts, and underwear.

And ugly plastic collars, but Seth, at least, had learned not to complain. Since they had been stolen into California (while, irony of ironies, celebrating their freedom from school), the six of them had been stripped, collared, processed, beaten, starved, and half-drowned – but they’d also been trained. Maybe their training had been harsh enough to make the basic training he and Jakub were (had been) heading to look like a week at the beach, but the lessons had been straight-forward and clear. Lesson one was: don’t complain.

Lesson two was don’t mouth off, of course. Which was why he was keeping his mouth shut as their handler – the third such, the tallest, the oldest, and the sternest so far, passed them each stacks of clothing. Steve hadn’t quite gotten that, yet, but, then again, only Seth and Jakub had been planning on heading somewhere where they barked orders at you all day anyway.

“This looks like a uniform, ma’am.” Jill commented, quietly, politely. Jill had learned how to ask questions without getting hit; she’d been the quickest of them all, at that.

“It is,” the matron agreed. “You will not be the only ones at this training facility. There will be approximately twenty-five other slaves here training with you.”

“Training?” That was Steve. “Like what? Ow!”

The ow was, of course, another thwap with the crop. Steve got a lot of those.

“You know nothing about our world, or our culture. You will be going to school here to learn how to fit in, how to be proper slaves. You will take eight classes a day, and have time in the evenings to complete your homework?”

“Homework!” Seth was mortified to realize that that had been him this time. He quickly added on a “ma’am,” and was grateful when Debbie picked up his slack by filling in with another question.

“Like school, ma’am? Like high school?” She didn’t have to say all over again; they were all thinking that.

“Exactly like a school,” the matron nodded. She seemed to understand; she didn’t thwap them at all for the collective groan.

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Bringing Home the Bacon – Autumn/Stranded World – KC_OBrien’s Prompt

I am taking prompts tonight; this is from [personal profile] kc_obrien‘s prompt “Brining home the bacon”

Stranded World, Autumn

Autumn chuckled to herself every time she picked up bacon for dinner.

“Bringing home the bacon,” she murmured, although most nights, it was only to herself and the quiet walls of her van/RV/studio/home. “I’m such a good husband.”

It was a private joke, between herself and the thing that served her in lieu of a conscience: she was the good housewife, the good kid, the good husband. She was bread-winner and bread-baker and, in the end, bread-eater and crumb-picker too.

It wasn’t her only one-person inside joke, of course. She spent a lot of time, most of her life, really, alone with her own thoughts. On the road all the time – she spent, on average, a week with each of her siblings each year, and a week with Mom around Christmastime – she rarely had company with any staying power. Most people liked to have roots, a roof, a solid foundation. Most people liked to know what their role was. Autumn shook all that up.

She snipped the bacon into her pan, still chuckling, albeit ruefully. She’d made the bread-winner bacon-home-bringing joke to her last lover. Adam, although that hadn’t been the name she’d met him under. Her Gawain. He had bristled and tried to hide it, sulked (his busking wasn’t all that profitable) and tried to use that. He’d been lovely, friendly, and willing to throw his rucksack in the back of her van and travel with her. She was glad she hadn’t harbored any illusions beyond that. She wished that he hadn’t, either.

The bacon crisped and popped, making the place smell delicious and her mouth water. She toasted some bread and sliced a fresh tomato over her craft-fair mustard. The company was nice, once in a while, but she’d always be her own breadwinner, her own bread-maker… and probably her own crumbpicker, too. And that was just fine with her.

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Joff Gets a Pony

I am taking prompts tonight; this is from @daHob’s prompt “Joff gets a pony.”

Year Six, i.e., after current Addergoole timeline.

Joff looked over his half-sister thoughtfully. “‘Vette…?”

This was the first time since they had been at Addergoole that they’d both been free and unKept, and they were finding it a bit heady, or, at least, he was. It was harder to tell with her. She loved everything, everything that brought anyone near her pleasure. Sometimes, he thought she was a far better succubus than he’d ever be an incubus.

Like right now.

“You said you’d always wanted a pony,” she answered, trying for innocent and almost managing, despite the devil-girl look her Change had given her. “Well, he’ll have to do for now.”

Joff looked at the boy, on all fours next to Ivette, bitted, gloved, collared, and saddled. “This isn’t quite what I had in mind,” he admitted, but, before she could pout at him, he knelt down and took the handsome, sweating cheeks in his hands. “But he looked delicious. Thank you, Ivette. May I ride him for a bit before you take him back?”

“Of course, little brother.” She tapped the boy on the ass with the riding crop; tense and twitching already, he jumped nearly out of his skin. “Lee, be nice for Joff here. Do everything he tells you to, do you hear me?”

He mumbled out an answer around the gag that sounded rather like “yes, mistress;” she smiled beatifically down at him.

“You’re such a good boy, darling. I know Joff is going to have such fun riding you.” She tapped his ass again, making the leather crack loudly, and then passed the crop to Joff. “Aren’t you, little brother?”

He looked over the boy lustily. Smart of his sister to know he’d had his eye on this one since the first day of school. Amazingly thoughtful of her to snag him as a present, and truss him up like this.

“I am,” he agreed, suppressing a giggle. The boy was big enough. Maybe he really would just ride him around the room.

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…between now and 24 hours from now, I will write to requests. Anything I can get done in a 10-minute writeordie (approx. 250 words, or a standard flash fic drabble in this journal).

Request away!

(Writing will start after dinner or so)

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