Archive | March 2012

Safe House, a half-story

For Rix_Scaedu‘s commissioned prompt.

After The Life You Make (LJ) and Memories (LJ), and directly after Company (LJ)

Faerie Apoc, Addergoole – landing page here (or on LJ)

“Aly,” he called, and gestured for the third of his employees to guard the kids. Viatrix didn’t have the kill-the-trouble-now face on, but she did look worried.

“What is it… hunh.” The two women in the doorway tickled half a memory for him. He’d seen their faces before, somewhere, the taller one more than the shorter one.

“Oh, hell no.” The taller one was carrying blades. Four of them. The shorter one was carrying a single rapier. “I heard that this was a safe house. That was a bad joke, right?”

Viatrix looked between the two women, and back to Baram. “He doesn’t remember you,” she explained. “He doesn’t remember much at all longer than a year ago.”

He remembered that look on people’s faces, though. Monster. Creature. Kill it. Not the one that replaced that – anger with no target, loss, confusion. “He doesn’t remember?” She turned to face him directly, still keeping her body between the shorter girl and him. “You don’t remember me? You raped me and you don’t remember me? I have your SON and you don’t remember me?”

“Callie,” the shorter girl murmured, “not on the street, okay?”

He looked the two girls over, and noted the children in the car. “Not on the street. I promise, if you don’t attack me, I will offer you no harm while you’re in my house. Come in.” Raped her. Had he? Monster. Creature. Kill him.

The two visitors shared a look, and then the taller one, Callie, Callie, he almost remembered a Callie, looked at Viatrix. “Does he speak for you?”

“If you don’t harm me or mine, I promise I won’t harm you or yours,” Via shrugged. “He’s my employer, not my Keeper.”

“You stay here of your own free will?” That was the short one this time, staring at Viatrix.

Via wasn’t Jaelie, but she could read a situation, better than Baram could. She stepped out of the way, letting the two women into his cave. “He keeps us and our kids safe. I guess we are a safe house, if you come down to it.”

Safe house. Baram couldn’t help a smile. The monster ran a safe house.

Next: Signal Fire

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Heroes, a story of the Aunt Family for the March Giraffe Call

For [personal profile] jjhunter‘s commissioned Prompt.

A continuation of “Tell me a Story,” (LJ), “Princesses, Knights, and the Huntsman” (LJ), The Princess and the Huntsman (LJ), and Princesses (LJ).

The Aunt Family has a landing page here on DW and here on LJ.

The princess had been the first painting Estebana, Adam, and Anselma had shown Rosaria, first because many young girls dreamed of being princesses, first because, as Anselma had said, in her dry, always-amused voice, “this can be the most dangerous of the stories, for everyone involved. Remember that, Rosaria.”

She had, of course. She’d remembered it when Aunt Estebana had told her the story of her Hero, and gone instead for the Farmer, for her Ned. Ned had been a steady man, a serious man, a reliable man.

Roasaria was careful to never tell her own children, he own grandchildren, not to go after the Hero or the Prince or the Knight. Let them learn on their own, not live their whole lives wishing for something they hadn’t had, the flash of blue eyes and a charming smile.

The Hero. That painting had been stacked sideways against two others, the Prince and the Knight. “These can come after this one, or be part of him, or be completely aside from it,” Estebana had explained to a baffled young Rosa. “We start with the Hero. Many boys start here, as many girls start with her.” Her dismissive gesture had taken in the pretty girl with her tiara as if she was a speck of dust or a bad idea.

“The Hero.” Grandma Anselma’s voice was steady, always steady, always smiling. “He’s a nice one. See him like this, his sturdy chestplate and his long sword. See him when you see a fireman on TV, a soldier coming home from war. This is the one who will protect you. That’s his goal and his shining quest, to protect, to rescue.”

Adam never spoke, but he spoke now, his finger hovering over the painting. “That’s the ding in his armor, the crack there, the dent there. That’s what he takes for the protection. That’s the strength he needs to protect, there in his muscles, there in his sword.”

“There’s a hole in his armor,” young Rosa had pointed out.

There’s a place you can hurt him, a much older Rosaria understood.

“There is,” Adam agreed. “Every Hero has that. Never forget that, Rosa.”

“And him?” At the time, a hole hadn’t seemed all that interesting, nor had the way her aunt and grandma weren’t saying anything seemed significant. The man in the back corner of the drawing, the second face of the Hero.

Aunt Essie smiled. “Ah, him. That’s the Father. Like your father, Rosa, he’s a hero, protecting his family, keeping them safe and warm and fed.”

“Why isn’t there a girl Hero?” The young Rosa had found that very unfair. Princesses were pretty and nice, but she wanted to be a hero, with a sword. She wanted to protect her younger sisters and stab bad guys and her armor would be shiny.

“Aaah.” Essie shook her head. “There are, of course, women who protect, girls who fight and rescue. But they are not Heroes, or Knights, any more than boys are Princesses. That is not how the story goes.”

Rosaria smiled through the decades at her long-gone aunt, and shared a memory of a knowing look with her cousin Adam. Stories, she knew, changed. People changed. And if she wanted to, she could be her own Hero, even now.

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Derailed, Part 1, a story of #Addergoole Apoc

Addergoole-verse, but not related to the Addergoole stories except in the characters used. No sex, slavery, or mind control involved.

Circa 2012-2014





The train was speeding down the tracks, the same route it took every day, the same tracks that trains had been going down for almost two hundred years. Luke had watched it countless times through the years, but never so intently as he was today.

“On three.” He timed his count to the speed of the train as it barreled closer. “One. Two. Three.” His left hand came down, his wings flared, and all four of them starting muttering Workings at their top speed as the train got closer, closer, “NOW!”

Agmund threw off the last syllable of his Working as the train hit their improvised switch point. Caity yelled off her metal-twist just in time, and she and Yixox hauled the train to the right. Towards them. Directly at Luke and Agmund.

They dove to opposite sides of their new tracks just in time, Luke landing in the ditch they’d dug last night, Agmund’s swearing suggesting he’d ended up likewise damp. On the sides of the mound they’d risen, Caity and Akatil kept Working, cutting off the connection between the tracks, slowly rolling their track up behind the train. There was nowhere for it to go but forward.

That, of course, was only the first step. Luke brought himself to his feet and grabbed Agmund’s hand. He hated carrying passengers. Loathed it. But Agmund couldn’t fly on his own, and he needed the Bear’s firepower. He shifted his grip to the bigger man’s armpits and launched them off the ground with a muttered Working for defying gravity. He’d need more than one of those if they were going to catch the train in time.

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Company, a half-story

For Rix_Scaedu‘s commissioned prompt; half a story but it was too good an ending point not to cut it there.

After The Life You Make (LJ) and Memories (LJ)

Faerie Apoc, Addergoole – landing page here (or on LJ)

Baram was surrounded by children and women, up to his neck in high-pitched voices and drowning of it.

He wanted to go to the car shop. People were still trying to live ordinary lives out there, and they still needed cars fixed. But Jaelie was out for… the calendar said four more days, taking Swish to Addergoole. And there were monsters all around. Real monsters. People who had threatened his home, his vassals, his neighborhood. So here he was, up to his neck in children playing – he was pretty sure – Monsters and Fairies.

If he had to take twenty more minutes of this, Baram was going to start wishing for more monsters. He made his scary-face at a child running by too closely, and scooped it up, swinging it around airplane style. “Rarr, Rarr,” he mock-growled. The kid shrieked and screamed happily, and ran off giggling. Baram scowled more fiercely, hiding a small smile. Kids were fun… in short doses. Not for a week at a time. Not this many kids.

The doorbell rung. He looked up, noticed the kids going into drill mode like they’d been taught, clearing out of the living room, moving back into the kitchen and down into the basement. He caught the smallest three and handed them to the biggest three as Viatrix got the door.

“Boss,” she called uncertainly, “I think this is for you.”


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Three Cya-Bois, a series of Vignettes for #Addergoole/Boom-Apoc

This was SUPPOSED to be a little lead-in to a d/s scene with Cya’s Year 21-into-22 boi, Cadwr, but about halfway through the first bit I realized scenes in kid-Yoshi’s-point-of-view were not going to segue nicely into nakedtimes, so, well, here’s three of Cya’s bois through Yoshi’s point of view. He’s 5 at the time of the first one at 13 at the last one.

Nilam (End of Year 12):
“Are you the new guy?” Yoshi could barely see over the dinner table, but he could see the way the guy was squirming from the way his feet moved.

“I… yeah? I guess.” He squeaked. Grown-ups did that around Mom sometimes.

“Can you help me with dessert? We’re having peach cobbler, but I’m not allowed to handle a knife yet.”

“I… she told me to stay here.”

Yoshi frowned thoughtfully. Mom did that sometimes. He didn’t know, maybe doing-what-Mom-said was a grownup thing. He and Viddie didn’t listen that well.

“Okay.” He brought the peaches, a bin, and a knife over to the boy. “I’m Yoshi. Here, make small slices. Of peach. They go there.”

“Nilam.” He was a redhead, but his hair was lighter than Mom’s, and his eyes were very blue. “Very thin slices?”

“Very thin,” Yoshi agreed. He wondered how long this one would be scared for.

Pellinore (End of Year 14)
He’d been pacing around the kitchen until Yoshi got him to help with the apple betty. Now was sitting in his chair at the dinner table, glowering at Yoshi, at Cya, at Viddie, who didn’t understand, at his plate.

Yoshi didn’t really understand, either, but it worried him a little. Anger was new. Anger didn’t seem like a good plan.

“That’s enough,” Mom said, in the You’re in Trouble Mister voice. Yoshi had never heard her use it on a grown-up before. He found it interesting, in a not-me sort of way. “If you’re going to glower and sulk, you’re not going to do it around my boys. You can get it under control, or you can leave the table.”


“Not here,” Mom cut him off. “We’ll argue later, if you want. Right now, you’re going to act like a civilized being or leave my table.”

Yoshi knew that sulky look. Everybody got it around Mom eventually. He shut up and let Pellinore figure it out on his own.

Njörðr (end of year 20)
The kid had been ghosting around the cabin for a couple days, trying to avoid Gaheris, trying to avoid Mom and yet gravitating towards her when they were in the same room. Definitely avoiding Uncles Leo and Howard, but all the smart ones did that.

Yoshi and Viddie were apparently young enough not to be a threat (the guy wouldn’t get within a mile of Eryk or Dora, so it was probably age and not, say, horns), so they found themselves with a Jory shadow more often than not.

“You can follow us around all you want,” Yoshi told him on the third day of this, “but can you be useful?”

“Uh?” The panicked look the guy gave him made Yoshi wonder, once again, whyyy his mom brought home such useless guys (except Gaheris, of course. And Dad.) “Useful?”

Viddie thrust the berry basket at him. “Pick berries, put them in the basket.”

“Oh.” Njörðr took the basket and looked at the berry bush.

Feeling a bit of sympathy, Yoshi added “Watch out for the thorns.”

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Hooked, a drabble of Rin & Girey for the March Giraffe Call

For [personal profile] kelkyag‘s commissioned prompt.

Reiassan has a landing page here.

After Sun-on-the-Water (LJ)

“Sun-on-the-water?” Girey asked, when he was pretty sure they were alone.

“A marriage,” she answered in Bitrani, “between people of decidedly different statuses. Or an informal ‘marriage,’ the sort where you say you’re married when the children come, or after you’ve been living together for a while.”

“Your people have the strangest turns of speech.” He was clearly chewing over the implications, however. That was probably a good thing, right?

“Colorful,” she joked, “like everything here. The Bithrain have a few interesting idioms, too.”

“We’re a much more practical people,” he answered. The lightness in his voice fell flat against his expression. “Decidedly different statuses. Is that us?”

“It could be. It does not need to be.” She leaned against the wall, studying him. “A lot of it depends on people like my Uncle Esnees, and on what’s going on with Elin.”

“You’re considering marrying me.”

“You brought the matter forward.”

“I…” He looked startled. “I did. I was trying to distract your uncle.”

“Well, it worked.” She couldn’t help a smile. “You distracted all of us. But if you decide you find the idea repellent, I can certainly convince the family that Uncle Esnees misunderstood. You haven’t committed to a wedding, of any sort.”

“If I find the idea repellent?” He was looking even more thoughtful. Rin was starting to worry. “And what about you?”

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Fred, a vignette of Tir na Cali Slave School for the March Giraffe Call

For illfluff‘s Prompt. After this vignette (lj)

Fred woke up strapped down in a hospital bed, with a nurse on one side and Jenny on the other side. Both were frowning at him. As signs went, it wasn’t the best.

He tried the restraints, not with any real force. He didn’t want to spook anyone. He really didn’t want to spook Jenny.

He worked his jaw, a bit surprised he wasn’t gagged. Then again, it hadn’t been his mouth that had gotten them in trouble.

“Fred,” Jenny said. Sobbed. “Fred, why…?”

“I…” he glanced at the nurse; she nodded.

“Go ahead, you’re not standing on protocol with me.”

“Thank you.” He reached his closer hand towards Jenny. “I’m sorry. He just got me so mad. He’s always making those stupid comments, you know…”

“He makes them to everyone. He thinks he’s better than the rest of us because he fights it. But Fred! They’re going to punish you for this. You know they are.”

“I know. I really tried not to. But… he just hit one button too many.”

“Your fighting skills are admirable.” That was from the doorway: Mr. Thurston, their home ec teacher. “But your lack of control is not. Steve backed up your story, by the way, which will mitigate your punishment. Thank you, Jennifer, back to your room now.” He hesitated, and added kindly, “I promise, if we send Fred away, we’ll give you a chance to say goodbye first.”

She swallowed another sob and fled, leaving Fred alone in the room with the teacher.

“And now the question remains,” Mr. Thurston continued, sitting down in the chair Jenny had vacated, “whether we send you away or not.”

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