Archive | March 11, 2013

Bloodless, a drabble of Luke and Myst

After Thunder, after Bad Kids

Luke swooped down on the monster holding his children. He was silent, quick, and utterly merciless.

The man died quickly and bloodlessly – except for the blood Chavva had managed to draw. Luke didn’t want the children spattered in gore.

A second attacker almost ruined that resolution. The bastard jammed a shortsword between Luke’s ribs, aiming for his heart.

“Unh. Icarus, grab your sister. Do you have a knife?” He grabbed the blade with both hands and stepped back away from it. “Jasfe tlacatl, bastard in the underhill.” The boy nodded, and managed to get it out of his boot. PJ’s and boots – good boy. “Back against a wall, kids. Watch out for each other.” He moved his body to block the attacker from the kids and pushed, shoving the hilt of the blade through the bastard.

“Anyone else?” He bellowed it to the sky. He was angry, now, damnit. “Bring it on, you bastards.”

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Giraffe Call Summary!

The Giraffe Call is Closed!

This call brought in $17.50.

I had 15 prompters, one new, and two donors, one new.

That means there are two setting pieces coming! What settings do you want to see what about?

If you donated, please let me know what you’d like to see continued.

The Call! (LJ)
The Linkback Story (LJ)

The summary:
Addergoole: Year 9
Friendly (LJ )
Year 8
Educational (LJ)
Year 10-11-12-13
They Were Over (LJ)
Year 13
Doug Gets a Hug (LJ)
Year 17
Signs of Love (LJ)
Shades (LJ)
Year 22
Triangles (LJ)
From January:
Laziness x4 (LJ)

Addergoole, unnamed Year:
Begin Again (LJ)

One Off
The Purple (LJ)
Even the Insect That Bites You (LJ)
Kitchen (LJ)
Fine Dining (LJ) (modern)
Safer Shooting (LJ)
Forever and Ever, Amen (LJ)

Fae Apoc
Monster (LJ)
Enough Warning (LJ)

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Begin Again

For @dahob’s prompt

Content warning: emotional abuse, motherhood, foul language

The first week was weird.

For the most part, she stayed in her bed and didn’t talk to anyone.

She replayed scenes over and over again, re-read conversations, deleted e-mails and then pulled them out of her trash bin, taped together paper notes.

You know better, seriously. I know you have trouble with this stuff but you ought to have…

Come on, you know I was just joking. Even you ought to be able to…

When are you going to wake up and…

She cried, a lot. She ate when she felt like she could. She puked, a little bit. Then she cried some more

Sometime in the second week she picked up a book. In her mind, she heard, only kids read that shit.

“Fuck you.” She said it out loud, because she could, and she read it. And then the second one in the series.

Maybe watch the movies, I suppose. If there’s nothing else on. But why bother with that crap? Come on, do something with your life.

“Fuck you.” This time it was louder.

By the third book, she’d stopped reading the old e-mails; she let the deleted ones stay deleted.

You know I want the best for you.

“Fuck you!”

It felt good. It felt really good.

She picked up her knitting. She hadn’t knit in ages, and, when she had, it had been furtive.

She went out to the park and started working on something in yellow wool.

Just buy it in a store. It’s not like you don’t have money…

“Fuck you.” She grinned down at the tiny toque. “Fuck you.”

Nobody looked at her oddly. You had to do a lot to be looked at oddly, here.

The fifth week, she’d knitted a jacket and booties, too.

You know you’re not fit. You know it’s better for everyone…

“Fuck you.”

She walked up to the door of the huge Victorian house and knocked on the door. “Lady Maureen?”

The impressive woman who ran the créche raised one elegant eyebrow. Six weeks ago, she’d said one thing. Today…

“I’d like to raise my baby, please.”

Because she could. Fuck you.

She was surprised to find she was smiling.

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