Archive | July 20, 2018

Beauty-Beast 39: Clothes

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Ctirad stood while his Owner walked around him.  He found that he had closed his eyes and settled into a waiting position. It was comfortable.  It was more than comfortable; it was pleasing. He liked being here like this.  He liked waiting for what Timaios would do to him.

That was new.  So much about all of this was new, but that was definitely a novel sensation.  He liked it, he realized; more than liked it, he was looking forward to more of it.

A hand brushed over his ass and he shivered.  “I want to show you off. Here, come with me and we will dress you in your new clothes.”

“They’re here already?”  He didn’t open his eyes, but there was a hand on his collar and that was enough to move with. Continue reading

Bad Things Happen Bingo: The Hunter, I

Count: ~4800
Chara(s): A Hunter with some demon blood (OC)
Pairing(s): N/A
Fandom: Org Fic – Fae Apoc xover
Prompt: Most Dangerous Game

So this.  This is a series of stories taking place in my universe, Fae Apoc, at the time just before the aforementioned apoc.  Portals are opening up to one other world at that time, and in this story, well, they happen to open up into a whole BUNCH of worlds. 

And from those worlds, a bunch of poor soon-to-be-victims-of-bad-things who bear some resemblances to fandom characters happen to slip through some portals.  And then bad things happen to them. 

Because that, after all, is the name of the Bingo.

Content warnings: violence, death, bondage, capture, drugging, visions. 

This is technically Chapter Two because I started writing this before I found the bingo.  Chapter One will return later. 

A. Intro

The team had found their portal – isolated, comfortable, close enough to a major road for shipping purposes.  They had set up their force of former soldiers. They had the cages.

They were expecting to catch just the would-be gods coming through from Elleheim.  People would pay good money to have a would-be god on a leash.

But then the portals started spitting out some interesting people.  People who didn’t think they were gods. People, as it turned out, from other universes.

The team was fine with that.  They’d sell them, too.

B. Hunter

Chase had been in the cage for three days and it was beginning to feel like a vacation.

He had done all the banishment rituals he could remember, though that was really his kid brother Dan’s job and, naked like he was, he’d been a little short on ways to draw any sort of warding circle or even a basic sigil.  He’d chanted bad Latin until the guards had put a muzzle on him; he’d tried every bar in the cage (twice); he’d tried the wooden floor and ceiling to the thing and found them surprisingly tough. Even with the sometimes-sporadic powers he still wasn’t supposed to have, he couldn’t crack even the wood ceiling.

He’d done everything he was supposed to, so he took the opportunity to rest.  The cage was big enough for him to lay down; it came with a pillow and a blanket, and that meant the only thing he had on his plate was trying to convince his captors to take the damn muzzle off so he could be done with a liquid-slurry diet.

Except this time the handlers were coming with the prods, and they weren’t bringing dinner.  He stood and moved towards the back of the cage. There were three of them. He could take three of them easy.  He’d taken more than that when he landed here, before they knocked him out.

Thing was, was it a smart thing to do?  If he cooperated, maybe he’d get more leeway.  Maybe they’d take the damn muzzle off. Maybe he’d have an opening to get out of here.

It might be a vacation, but he was starting to miss his kid brother, and, besides, there was shit to do back home.

“Kneel, hands behind your head,” the middle handler told him, sounding bored.  Well, they couldn’t have that, could they? Chase grinned at them – tried to; the damn muzzle didn’t give him a lot of expression leeway – and gestured like he couldn’t hear them.

“Last warning, or it gets unpleasant.”  Nobody raised their voice at all. The middle handler stepped forward.  “Kneel, hands behind your head, or you make the trip on a dolly with a tranq dart so far up your ass the needle’ll be tickling your eyeballs.”

Well, when you put it that way… Chase knelt, his hands behind his head.

“See?  I knew you could learn.”  The left-hand one stepped in and cuffed Chase’s hands – to the damn wooden collar, of course – while the other two kept their weapons trained on him until he was cuffed, shackled, and then lifted up into the waiting van. Continue reading