Foundations, a drabble in response to many others.

Continuation Piece, Addergoole. After this, after this, and so on.

“I was a kid when I built my first house.”

Most of what Luke was doing was Workings. Pulling the stones out of the ground, stacking them without mortar so that they were one fused foundation. That first house still stood, actually. He visited it, when he was feeling maudlin.

“Maybe twenty? We’d just won the war, and I was feeling flush and full of myself. Very full of myself.” He’d been young and arrogant, back then. He liked to think they’d both mellowed with time. “And I was in love. She was human. I thought that made me a better person.”

He couldn’t look at Myst while he told this story. Anywhere but.

“I’d grown up with the idea that being away from fae was the way to do it. My mother joined a tribe of the People. Some of her friends slipped into the colonies and lived right alongside the colonists. You know, ‘living with the people.'” This time, he allowed himself a scornful face. They’d been arrogant, thinking they were slumming it. “So I married her. And we had a son together.”

He used the excuse of Working the stones properly to not say anything for a while. Over two centuries later. He shouldn’t still be ashamed. He shouldn’t still be hurt.

“She was human, I said. And she had a human lifespan. And he…” Luke shrugged, glad right now that he couldn’t see Myst’s face. “He was human, too. I didn’t know what to do.” It startled him that he could still shed tears, now, so much later, for the boy who had died so young. He pressed his face against the stone, and wondered if he was doing her a disservice, watering the foundation of their home with his old regrets.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/429574.html. You can comment here or there.

And Then

Dec9

This is mostly an intro to an idea (or a ship). Yoshi and Viddie are Cynara’s children; Kishmish is Shiva’s daughter by Nikita, Sigruko is Viddie’s half-sister on their father (Leo)’s side, and Ariel and Amy are 2 of Zita’s daughters.

Even the Boom family tree requires diagrams!

Yoshi was not certain what to think about Ce’Rilla sh’Orlaith.

He had, on meeting her, thought she was the sort of slightly stuck-up girl that he didn’t really need to bother with. But she was fiercely protective of her “younger brother,” Sam, a quality Yoshi could appreciate, and she navigated her first year with a grace he could envy.

Of course, that was her first year. He’d noticed her get Kept but not paid much attention, noticed her get released some time later, and noticed her get Kept again, some time later. It was the Addergoole soap opera (for those of them that could remember soap operas); everybody watched it.

That was Ce’Rilla’s first year. In her second year, she met Yoshi’s little brother.

–

Ce’rilla was not sure what to think about Yoshi cy’Drake.

She would probably have accepted his collar with more grace than she’d taken any of the collars she’d ended up with in her first year, she thought. He was handsome, cheerful, and polite, and the girl he kept Ce’Rilla’s first year seemed pretty happy with him, as much as someone could be happy being collared.

Other than that, she hadn’t either noticed or paid attention to the older boy. There were lots of older boys, and the ones that weren’t directly involved with her Keepers weren’t people she needed to worry about. Just getting through the year was proving tricky enough.

That was her first year. In her second year, she met Yoshi’s little brother.

–

Viðrou was pretty sure Sigruko and Yoshi, Kishmish and Amy and Ariel meant well. Well, he was certain about his brother and sister, and decently convinced that his cousins were trying to help him.

He knew that Yoshi’s first year had messed him up. He knew that Ruki had come back quiet and thoughtful about a lot of things. He knew it could be rough, and he knew, by now, that the rough usually involved a collar. And he knew all about collars.

He was pretty glad he had his big sister and big brother here (He could have gone either way with the cousins. They were some pretty scary women). He knew that having your family or crew at your back was the best bet, always.

And then he met Ce’Rilla cy’Valerian.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/428481.html. You can comment here or there.

Not Being stupid, a drabble in re. many drabbles

Dec8

(Most recently this by Rion in response to this by me)

I always did well in history. Professors told me I was an eager student.

Luke was still chewing over that one – and trying hard, hard, not to imagine Mystral as Laurel’s eager student, what had Mike been doing to his head? – when she kissed him.

Luke had kissed Mystral before, of course. They had a daughter together, after all. But this… this was different.

And as the images in his head shifted like flip-cards from Mystral with Laurel to Mystral as she’d been in his bed, years ago, she dropped the bomb.

“I’d love you all the same.”

Luke’s wings flared widely, and his mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out.

That, that he hadn’t been expecting.

Liking him around? Yes. There were reasons to like a man like him, a Mara like him around. Even Mike thought he was decent company.

Wanting to live with him – well, they had a daughter together. And she liked his company, and the world had fallen to pieces.

But love.

Love.

His wings flapped. His mouth opened and closed.

Some day, Wil had said to him, you’ll be ready. And when you are, lovely man… don’t be stupid about it.

Maureen had said something similar to him, a few years back.

Mike said it all the time.

“This is me,” he informed Mystral carefully, “trying hard not to be stupid. Mystral… I love you.”

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/428067.html. You can comment here or there.

History, a drabble in response to a drabble in response to a dr….

Dec6

Addergoole, year 39-ish. Luca Hunting-Hawk, Mike Linden-Blossom (VanderLinden). In response to this Addergoole bit by Rion, in response to this piece by me, in response to this piece by Rion.

“I have conditions.”

Luke supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised by that. He recognized the parallel. He recognized the tone of voice, too.

Shit, Mike, where are you when I need you?

He listened to her conditions with growing worry. He didn’t know how to be any more direct than he was being. He didn’t know how to say it to her, what he needed to say.

When she got to the end: “…that you won’t make me live in it alone. …At least some of the time,” his heart nearly broke. And he wanted to say, like some teenaged student, “well, duh.”

He coughed, instead. “I’ve only built houses twice before, Mystral. For the mothers of my first two sons.” Ké hadn’t let him build her a house. In this day and age, old man, we can buy an apartment just fine.

He kept talking, before he could convince himself to stop. “I wouldn’t build a house I didn’t plan to share. And I wouldn’t build a house for you without your input.” His wings flared. This wasn’t, yet, real. This couldn’t, yet, be real.

He met her eyes. “You have to remember that I come with history,” he warned her. “Those other two houses.”

And the women he’d built them for. And the sons, all three of his sons. He was very glad Chavva was a girl.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/426563.html. You can comment here or there.

Arm-twisting, an answering drabble of Addergoole @kissofjudas

Dec5

Addergoole, year 39-ish. Luca Hunting-Hawk, Mike Linden-Blossom (VanderLinden). In response to this Addergoole fic by Rion.

Backstory: across several other stories, Mystral, a second-generation student in Addergoole, asked Luke to father her second child. He agreed, and has been visiting the daughter (his first daughter!), Chavva, regularly ever since.

The world ended around Year 17 of Addergoole (2011, June, is when it began), in something Luke refers to here as the Fae War.

Luke and Mike are both teachers at the Addergoole school, and 2 of the co-founders.

“You should build her a house.”

That was further out of left field than most things Mike said, but Luke – who was packing to visit Mystral and Chavva – knew what his oldest and most obnoxious friend was talking about.

“She has a home.”

“You’re in love with her.”

“What’s that have to do with the price of tea in China?” He did not want that wound poked at, thank you, most especially not by Mike.

“Is it still there? China, I mean.”

“In a manner of speaking.” China had gotten hit – not harder, but differently – by the Fae Wars that had nearly destroyed their planet. “They lost more people than we did in the cities, but their farms don’t look much different.” And if Mike could be distracted long enough…

“You should take me there sometime. But you should build her a house, too.”

“Mike. I fathered her daughter. That’s not…”

“Listen, Bird-Brain, I’ve known every time you’ve ever been in love. Every. Time.” Even Luke could hear the edge in his oldest friend’s voice. “And you are in love, mister.”

“She’s a child.”

“She’s not. If she was, you wouldn’t have fathered Chavva on her.”

“I have grandchildren older than her! Great-grandchildren older than her!”

“And I’m more than twice your age. Get your head out of your ass.”

Luke glared at Mike. “So what if I love her? She’s never given any indication of anything like that.”

“Have you?”

“Of course not. That’s not what she asked me for.”

“Dead gods’ nuts, Luca. If you don’t ask the girl, I’m going to.”

“…fine. Stay away from her. I’ll talk to her.” And be rejected, just to soothe Mike’s pride.

She beat him to it.

His wings flared as she talked. He wanted to pull her close to him and protect her. Take care of her. He wanted to tell her what was in his heart.

You’re just not ready. Wil had chided him more than once. You’re not ready for an adult love, and I am. Never mind that she was younger than him.

You never say anything. Ké had been angry at him already, but that had been the end.

Say something! Mike’s voice was louder than even his daughter’s.

“I want to build you a house.” He blurted it out, feeling more like a two-year-old than someone with nearly three centuries under his belt. “A big house. Strong.” His wings flared, and he pulled them back close to his back, wondering how, exactly, he could be such an idiot.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/425693.html. You can comment here or there.

Bound, a story of Addergoole Year 9 for the Giraffe Call

Nov30

To thesilentpoet‘s commissioned continuation of Catch and Formality, the story of Gregori and Speed.

Erotic domination, no sex, but nudity.

If I am going to continue to write these guys I really need a m/m d/s icon/

The kiss was every bit what Gregori had been hoping. So far, this boy was everything he’d been looking for. It seemed too good to be true.

While holding the boy up in the air by his collar was not the time to worry about that. Gregori didn’t want to have to explain asphyxiation to Caitrin before they’d gotten through the first day. It was nice to note, however, that Speed’s erection was not flagging.
He set his Kept down and stroked his hair. “You are my good boy.” He had learned, through trial and error with Damaris, how much good a little praise could do – and how much a lot of praise could do, too.

“Yes, Master.” From the expression on his face, his new boy was learning that, too. He was smiling beatifically, his eyes half-shut. “How may I be good for you next?”

“How obedient can you be?” He circled the boy once, looking at the position of his shoulders – back, proud – the tilt of his head – to one side and thoughtful – and the little smile on his lips. He hadn’t learned yet, how real this was going to be, or he thought he had a loophole. Gregori pondered how long he should let the waif remain misinformed.

“I can be as obedient as you want me to, master.” Speed’s eyes found Gregori’s, full of amused insolence. “Do you want me to fight so that you can punish me?” He caught his error in the barely-shown press together of Gregori’s lips. “I mean, of course, to give you an excuse, if you want one, to punish me. Master may of course punish his slave for anything he wants.”

“Thank you for the permission.” He made his voice dry enough that the boy actually looked worried for a second.

He ducked his head and shrugged his shoulders forward. “I only want to please, master.”

“And that pleases me, slave. So, I wish you to be obedient without orders to bind you. Do you think you can do that?”

The boy risked another glance at Gregori’s face. “I will try my best, master.”

“That will have to do for now.” He made it dismissive, to watch the boy’s flinch. He’d circled his new slave once and a half now; he grabbed the boy’s arms and pulled them behind his back, crossing his wrists just over that lovely ass. “You understand?”

“Yes, master.” He wiggled his butt a little, getting comfortable, his wrists staying as if pinned.

“That’s good.” He tossed a pillow from his bed onto the floor, and pushed the boy, gently, supporting his shoulders so his reflexes didn’t take over. Slowly, he pressed the boy’s head into the pillow, until his ass was high in the air, inviting. “Beautiful.” The wrists stayed where they were. “You are good.”

“Thank you, master.” It was harder to tell if he was being smug, in this position. His expression was pressed into the pillow and his voice was muffled. “I live to please you.”

“Good boy. My very good pet.” He spread Speed’s knees further apart, and then stood, walking away. He wanted to admire his new possession for a bit… and he wanted to watch him squirm.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/424131.html. You can comment here or there.

Formality

Nov19

To cluudle‘s commissioned continuation of Catch, the story of Gregori and Speed.

Erotic domination, no sex, but nudity.

“There’s a ritual to this.” And the ritual would not only allow him to regain control, it would remind his new Kept exactly what he was stepping into. “Take all of your clothing off. Put it in my laundry hamper.” He gestured lazily behind himself.

“Yes, master.” The boy didn’t look frightened. He didn’t look worried, or even concerned; he looked happy.

Happy would be a nice change, after Damaris’ crying. If it lasted. He stood, arms crossed over his chest, and watched the boy strip. T-shirt. Pants. Tank top under the t-shirt, covering a chest so skinny he could be on a Starving Children poster somewhere. Boxers under the pants, blue silk, revealing an erection nearly as big as the boy.

He was going to be an absolutely entertaining Keeper for someone, if he chose to top next year. Or the year after; Gregori still had two years here.

The socks were the last to go, and then the boy was brushing past him to drop all of his clothes into Gregori’s clothes hamper. “Very good. Kneel where you were standing.” He pointed at the floor in the place he wanted him, just for clarity, and watched the boy fold himself up as if he’d been born to kneel like that, his hands folded perfectly at the small of his back, his eyes on Gregori.

“Very good.” The boy was the hottest thing to slink into Gregori’s life. “You come to me naked, with nothing but your self. Everything you have, from this day until the day I release you, will come from my hands. Everything you give, you will give to me. Everything you are is mine.”

“I come into your hands naked.” Speed couldn’t have seen the ritual; he had to be making it up. He made it up beautifully. “I have nothing to give you but myself, and I give all of that to you. From now until you release me, everything I have is yours, and everything I receive will come from you.” He glanced up at Gregori through a fringe of hair. “And what does it please my master to give me?”

“First, your collar.” He circled the boy’s neck with his hands. He was skinny, skinny enough that Gregori’s hands fit with room to spare. And he shivered beautifully when Gregori pressed his fingers against his throat. “Meentik Unutu με Panida με Eperu kloiós.” He knew what he wanted, so it was easy enough to bring it into existence around his new Kept’s throat. A leather collar, a thick and wide one, with a single large ring dangling in the front and a smaller one pressed against the back of the boy’s neck. A collar with no closure, or, more importantly, no opening. This was not coming off until he wanted it to.

Let Luke chew on that.

“There.” He grabbed the ring in the front and tugged upwards, pulling the boy off his knees. “Now. To do things properly.”

Speed was dangling, not trying to put any weight on his feet. He had been ordered to kneel, after all. “Yes, my master?”

So delicious. Gregori was going to enjoy this one. “Kiss me.”

Next: Bound (LJ)

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/421051.html. You can comment here or there.

Equipping, a sequel for the Giraffe Call

Nov13

To Flofx’s commissioned continuation of The First Quest

Equipping

It was still, technically, summer, at least. That was their main saving grace.

They’d been prepared for a field trip, maybe an hour outside, wandering around a creek bed. Sancha’s shoes weren’t as impractical as a lot of their classmates’ had been – sandals with a flat heel – but once they’d gotten wet, they were pretty much useless. And after “Sancha’s little incident,” they’d gotten not only wet, but a little bit ripped up.

“You can’t have turned into the sort of monster that gets really thick paw-pads or anything, could you?” Fritz examined her feet critically. “You don’t have any cuts, just a couple shallow scrapes.”

“I’m not a monster!” The fact that she had to lisp that around new, long, sharp teeth made it a little weaker a protest than she’d have liked.“Well, at least you’re not a vampire. That would have been the shortest vampire-lifespan ever. What with the burning sun and all.”

“Still not a monster.”

“Mm-hrrm. Well, we need to add finding you shoes to our equipment list. I wonder… hey, up there.” He pointed up the bank. “See, grasshopper, you were right. The river led to shelter.”

“Those are just camping cabins.”

“Roof and a fireplace, probably running water.”

“Probably locked?”

“Pshaw. Don’t worry about locks.”

It turned out they didn’t have to. One of the cabins was wide open, its door swinging on its hinges. The car was gone, but they’d left the radio going and food burning on the stove.

“…York City appears to have vanished, we repeat, vanished. It is not our belief at this time that this was a nuclear attack. We repeat, we do not believe this was a nuclear attack. It is believe that this is the work of the so-called Returned Gods.”

“Oh, shit, them again?” The Returned Gods had been getting louder and louder since mid-June. Chaos in the streets, demanding tribute, demanding to rule cities or even countries. But this was the first time things had gotten that bad.

What was worse was the expression on Fritz’s face. “Yeah. Things are just going to get worse. Okay, grasshopper, this just went from a get-home quest to a survival quest. Let’s see what they left, assume they’re not coming back, and take everything we might be able to use.”

“Fritz… you’re scaring me.” The whole day had been scary. Her new teeth and her new monster-claws were pretty terrifying. But up until now, Fritz had been treating the whole thing as a game, and that had made it endlessly more bearable.

“I know, grasshopper, and I’m sorry. If I could have let you float along longer, I would have. But if they’ve taken New York… the world just got really, really messy.” As unexpected as his seriousness, the hug he wrapped her in was tight and warm. “So.” And then, just as quickly, he was smiling. “What do you need to equip for a quest?”

She could handle this like a game. She really could. She glanced around. “Food. Clothing. Shelter. We still need shelter, if we assume we can’t stay here. And a weapon, right?”

“There you go.” Fritz patted her shoulder. “You’re going to level up any day now.”

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/418674.html. You can comment here or there.

Doug, 100 words, going out

Nov7

Summer between Years 8 and 9

"Go out," his father had said.

And, despite being a grown man, with grown sons of his own, Doug listened when his father told him something. Partially because Luca Hunting-Hawk had been a good but authoritative figure, but partially because his father was also his boss.

So he’d gone out. A three-week vacation at a place far in the hills. A "retreat" of a sort he could enjoy. Survivalism.

He could tell the women there expected him to be surprised to see them. They were tough women, sleek, pretty. He just smiled.

Doug knew all about tough, sleek, beautiful women.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/416859.html. You can comment here or there.

100 words each – Agatha after school, Baram at Thanksgiving

Oct31

For @KissofJudas and @AlphaRaposa’s requests.

End of Year 5 of the Addergoole School
Aggie smoothed her skirts and stared at her luggage. Her parents – her foster-parents, she now knew – had sent her a plane ticket, a train ticket, and a bus ticket. Dartmouth. There were worse places.

She glanced over at Tolly. He hadn’t picked up her suitcases yet. He hadn’t even said anything, since they left the school. “Anatoliy?” That voice always worked. Even since that mess.

He looked down at her, as if seeing her for the first time. “Good luck with your life, Agatha.” He stood up taller. “I won’t be part of it.”

For once, she had nothing to say.

~
November, Year 11 of the Addergoole School

(This is a prequel to the Baram’s-Elves stories)

“Going to celebrate Thanksgiving?”

The girl who worked the desk at the shop was chatty, always chatty, even with Baram. He shrugged at her. He didn’t bother smiling. Nobody thought it was friendly.

“That this week?”

She laughed, although she was smelling nervous. “Tomorrow. You really didn’t know?”

“Really.”

He stumped home, thinking about turkey. Squash. Smiling families. Not his thing, not for monsters.

There was a girl on his porch, a skinny girl with long reddish hair. Holding a suitcase. Not looking scared.

“Are you Baram?”

“Am.”

“I’m Jaelie, du’Briar Rose. I’ve heard about you.”

Baram tensed. The girl smiled. Smiled. “I’d like to work for you.”

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/414536.html. You can comment here or there.

Alder's Grove Fiction

The Worlds of Lyn Thorne-Alder

Archives