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Extraction Team

Jan8

For rix_scaedu‘s prompt.

Fae Apoc has a landing page here on DW and here on LJ.

This story is the same characters, much later (~10 years?) as this one

~*~

“Alarm, Callia.” Charlie’s voice same over her earpiece. “The one in Chicago, the kid whose mom is a quote-unquote masseuse? Taylor Anton. ”

“Him?” Callia was heading for the car even as she questioned Charlie. “Send Xana to meet me at the garage. That wasn’t suppose to Change. He wasn’t supposed to go at all, I thought her pet precog said. A dud.”

“Well, I think her precog is off, ’cause he just sent his school pool on fire. Xana’s meeting you at the garage, I’m sending you the last known whereabouts on the kid.”

“He set the… say again?” She strapped on her vest and weapons, and tossed a leather coat over the whole thing, passing a second coat to Xana as she strode into the garage.

“I think she said he set his pool on fire. Shit, Callia, this is going to be a hot potato, kinda literally. And it’s February. What are we gonna to do keep him on ice until September?”

“I’ll come up with something.” She nodded at the passenger’s seat. “Get in, ‘least till were closer. I might need you to scout.” She belted herself in and started driving while her partner was still getting situated. “If we have to we can put him in the dungeon.”

“Seriously? You’re kidding, right? You’re not going to put a fifteen-year-old boy in your dungeon.”

Callia felt herself smirking. “Why not? I was fourteen.”

~*~

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/223919.html. You can comment here or there.

In Any ‘Verse

Jan5

For TheLadyisUgly’s prompt. This is set in the two AU’s of the Addergoole ‘verse, whose landing page is here on DW & here on LJ.

Tya/Jamian
Jamian hadn’t been at his new school for more than a week when the pretty strawberry-blonde upperclassman cornered him.

“So,” she demanded, with a cheerful smile of perfect teeth, “are you going to ask me on a date?”

“I…” suspecting a prank, Jamian looked around for the girl’s other friends. She hung out with a tough crowd of dangerous-looking seniors and juniors, some of whom looked like the sort that would enjoy pushing the new kid around, or getting a laugh at his expense. Seeing no-one else around, he hazarded “was I supposed to?”

“Well, duh,” she smirked. “If you wanted a chance to talk to me outside of school.”

“Ah.” Not feeling any more clear about things, he offered, hesitantly, “would you like to go out for dinner sometime? I hear the restaurant down on Main and Schmidt is pretty cool.”

“D’Angelo’s?” She looked surprised. “That’s a really nice place, yeah. This Friday?”

“Just you and me, right?” Feeling a little braver, he added, “I can’t afford all of your friends, too.”

“Just you and me, handsome,” she assured him. “Pick me up at my mother’s at eight?”

“Sure…” His stepfather would let him borrow the car for proof he wasn’t really gay. “Uh… where?”

She smiled slowly at him, a teasing thing he was already in love with. “If you really want it, you’ll find out.”

Ty/Jaya
“You’ve been here a month, and the only people that know your name are the ones who pay attention in your classes.”

“I’m sorry?” Jaya hadn’t even noticed there was someone in the student lounge; she had been cutting through on the way to her study hall. She turned around to search out the speaker, and found him looking up at her from an armchair.

“You should be.” He grinned up at her, offering her a hand languidly. “I’m Ty. I’m a senior here.”

“Jaya… freshman.” She didn’t quite squeak it out.

“Jaya. That’s a lovely name. Why so shy, Jaya?”

“I, uh…” Brilliant. “People generally aren’t all that nice when you’re the new kid. And I’ve been the new kid a lot.”

“Well, I’m always nice, and so are my friends. Sit with us at lunch today, instead of hiding in the corner?”

He didn’t make it sound so much like a request as a royal demand. She should have been offended, told him whatfor. But he really was the first person who’d bothered asking her name since she got here. “I’d like that,” she told him shyly. “Um, right in the middle, right?” Out where everyone could see them.

“Right in the middle,” he grinned. “Advantages to being a senior – or to being friends with one.”

And that was definitely a suggestion. “I see,” she agreed carefully. “I’ll see you there.”

“I look forward to it,” he purred.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/221457.html. You can comment here or there.

‘Ware Fairy Gifts

Jan3

For kelkyag‘s prompt.

Thanks to @DaHob for brainstorming help on this one!)

Now.

Tom looked at the knife the girl had given him, if you could call it a knife. He didn’t look long; there was a monster in front of him. There had been a lot of monsters in front of him lately, since the – well, since whatever the hell had happened. The gates or something, the gods, they called themselves, the dragons and monsters pouring into the world.

“Kneel,” the monster snarled. Its breath stank of carrion, and its hands were dripping with blood. The other truckers were dead around Tom, or dying, and all he had was a wooden knife.

Three Months Past

The girl looked terrified. Tom couldn’t blame her; she was being cornered by three sleazy college-boy types who were, it sounded like, offering her all sorts of rides. From the bag she was carrying – bags, he corrected – she wasn’t looking for that sort of ride. And from the looks of her, delicate in feature, wide-eyed, and a bit fae – yes, she had pointed ears, sticking out of hair that was faintly green in hue – she might need a little help.

Tom wasn’t much of a fighter, but his size usually did him where skill didn’t. He lumbered over to help.

Five minutes earlier

“I am the God of the North Wind.” The creature’s voice reached them before he did, echoing through the parking lot. “I am the monster of your nightmares. Serve me or die.”

“Fuck that shit,” George rumbled, and loaded his shotgun.

“Fuck all these freaks.” The truckers prepared for battle.

Three Months Past

“Can I help you, miss?” Tom asked, in his deep bullfrog voice, the one his second wife had called the Don’t Fuck With This Guy tone.

“She’s fine, gramps,” Boy Number One sneered. “She’ll be fine with us.”

“Just fine,” Number Two chuckled. “Besides, you know how the fairy freaks are, anyway. She doesn’t need your help.”

“She might need a priest, though,” Number Three added helpfully. He had a knife, Tom noted. They probably all did.

“I think what she needs,” he rumbled, “is a ride. Am I right, miss?”

“A ride,” she agreed, her voice quavering. “Thank you.”

Three Minutes earlier

The creature ripped through George and Martin, their bullets seeming to do nothing more than irritate it. It looked, Tom thought, like a cross between Swamp Thing and an octopus, snarling “Kneel.”

“Fuck you,” Jake yelled, and emptied his shotgun into the thing. The thing, howling, clawed Jake’s belly open.

Three Months Past

“I told you, she’s fine, old man. Move along.” Number One brandished the knife. “Move. Along.”

“I think she’s coming with me,” he answered, letting his voice get hard. “Right, sweetheart?” He thrust an arm between Two and Three and took the girl’s outstretched hand. “You boys run along.”

Number One did not want to be stopped. He grabbed the girl by the shoulders. “The little fairy freak is coming with us.”

Tom sighed. He didn’t like fighting. “She’s coming with me,” he repeated, and punched Number One in the nose. The girl escaped in the startled spray of blood.

 

One Minute earlier

Jake was bleeding out. George was dead, and Clyde – you couldn’t live without a head. Martin was in bad shape; so were Liz and Little Mike. The guns weren’t doing anything. The fire seemed to hurt it some, but the flame-thrower had died. Tom was the only one still standing.

Three Months Past

“Thanks,” the girl murmured. “I’m Ner.”

“Tom. Nice to meet you.” He helped her into the cab of his truck. “Where you going?”

“Anywhere else?” She smiled wryly. “West and South, preferably. As far as you’re willing to take me.”

“I’m going to Minneapolis.”

“Sounds great.”

“I’ve, ah, got a hat…” he offered, tapping his own ear.

“Ack!” She frowned. “That’s been happening more and more lately. Something’s going wrong.” She concentrated, and looked normal, blonde, round-eared. “Better?”

“More human.”

The drive was nicer for her company, and it was with some reluctance that Tom let her out in Minneapolis. She smiled shyly at him, checked her ears, and offered a long wooden dirk. “Things are getting weird,” she murmured. “Weirder than me. This might help.”

How a wooden play knife would help, he didn’t know, but Tom said “thank you” just the same, and hung it behind his seat.

Now.

Nothing else had worked. Tom looked at the long knife the girl had given him, ducked under three tentacles and a pile of seaweed, and jammed the knife somewhere that looked vital.

As the monster screamed, writhing in death throes, Tom chuckled, and stabbed it again. ‘Ware fairy gifts, indeed!

~*~

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/218381.html. You can comment here or there.

Merry Kinkmas! Tentacles & humiliation, 2 stories of Fae Apoc for @Rix_scaedu

Jan2

From my card, center row, “G” and “n.” for a block of “center three, rows one and three” for Rix. (the free square picked at random from [community profile] kink_bingo‘s communal cards

100 words each, Fae Apoc

Content warnings: …slavery, drugs, confinement, humiliation….

Tentacles
She groaned against the pacifier, her fingers brushing against herself. The sensation – that wasn’t numb, not at all – jolted through her. She writhed, shuddered, and tried to make enough noise, grunting, whimpering, as she moved her fingers in circles.

“That’s a good girl,” he murmured, sending a shock of pleasure through her. “Maybe a little help?”

“Mm?” Help?

“Here, feel this??”

Feel… “Mmm!” Something, something wrapping around her leg. A tentacle? It felt like it, strong and a bit wet. Then her other leg, forcing them apart. Around her wrists, binding them together. Inside her, slowly, fore and aft.

Humiliation (situational)
“That’s it,” he murmured, as the tentacles penetrated her, stretching her hymen but not tearing it, pressing inside her, pulling against her throat. “Keep your eyes closed, pretty. Keep the plug in your mouth, keep mewling for me.

She did. She didn’t have any choice, nor did she want to stop. She moaned in wanton pleasure, spurred on by the little whispers of praise. “Good girl. That’s my good pet. You’re a wanton little animal, aren’t you?”

Animal. The embarrassment, the degradation, was delicious and horrible. You belong here. You belong like this. Nothing more than a creature. His creature.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/216715.html. You can comment here or there.

Merry Kinkmas! Sensory Deprivation & Phonesex, 2 stories of Fae Apoc for @Rix_scaedu

Jan1

From my card, top row, “N” and “G.” for a block of “center three, rows one and three” for Rix. Still not sure how to get tentacles in here.

100 words each, Fae Apoc

Content warnings: …slavery, drugs, confinement….

Sensory Deprivation
As the car started moving, Yaminah sucked slowly on the pacifier, trying to calm down. The trunk was padded, comfortable, warm. It felt like a nest, like sinking slowly under water; even the feeling of the car starting and moving seemed muted.

Her lips were numb, and, slowly, it felt like everything else was going numb. The world was very warm, very dark, and surprisingly quiet. Her mind floated, set loose from its moorings. She was a balloon in the sky of life. She was a pea safe in her pod. She was right where she was supposed to be.

Phonesex / Epistolary
She floated, lost and perfectly nested all at once, until his voice murmured in her ear. “Are you there, my dear?”

“Don’t know,” she mumbled around the pacifier.

“Shh, it’s all right. Grunts and mewls are fine, pretty. Can you feel your fingers?”

She wriggled her fingers experimentally. There they were. They seemed so far away. “Mmn.”

“That’s it. Now… remember, always, that your pleasure comes at my command. Find your clit, beautiful.”

She grunted assent, as her hands moved light-years to find it.

“Do you like it, touching yourself?”

Another grunt. Yes.

“I want to hear you come, pretty.”

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/216264.html. You can comment here or there.

Truth beauty,—that is all, a story of #Addergoole Year?? for @Trueform for the Giraffe Call

Jan1

For @TrueForm’s prompt. This is set in the Addergoole ‘verse, whose landing page is here on DW & here on LJ

The title comes from John Keats’ “Ode to a Grecian Urn

“So.” Althea squirmed uncomfortably in her seat.

“Yeah… So.” Verdad studied her twin for a moment, then looked the other way. They hadn’t had much of a chance to speak in the last few months, their Keepers uncomfortable with the way the two of them were together. But Mendosa had put her foot down, and here they were.

“You got your Change, I guess…” Althea offered hesitantly.

“Yeah. You, too?”

“Yeah.” She lifted the long, whiplike tail and studied it uncertainly. “It’s not bad. Yours?”

“The same, of course.” She showed her twin the tail. “Well, not precisely of course; Dr. Regine says it can be like kitten spots…”

“…and different even in clones,” Althea nodded. “Ver, what’s wrong?”

“Orders,” her twin whispered. “Sometimes they run into my power.”

“Can you talk about that?”

“I… yes. Everything I speak is the truth. Even if I don’t mean to.”

“Oooh.” Thea nodded. “I can see, yeah. Well… speaking of kitten spots…”

“Yours is different?” She looked thoughtful. “But not entirely. Right?”

“I can always tell if someone is lying or telling the truth, or the funny grey areas in between.”

“I can imagine the teachers want to value that – what does your… what does Camry think?”

“He’s… of mixed opinions about that. I’m glad Donyal let you talk to me.”

Her sister smiled tiredly. “Mendosa was not going to let up until he did. And I told him that. I’ve…” She bit her lip. “I want to say I’ve missed you.”

“I know.” The grey edges of truth cut like knives. “Me, too, Vera.” But life was more complicated, now.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/215364.html. You can comment here or there.

Merry Kinkmas! Wet, Messy, Dirty & Vehicular, 2 stories of Fae Apoc for @Rix_scaedu

Jan1

From my card, right-most column, fourth & fifth row.

100 words each, Fae Apoc

Content warnings: …slavery, drugs, dub-con touching, confinement….

Wet, Messy, Dirty
Slave “I live to serve you.” Was it the drug or the bond making that feel so good?

“Yes, you do. And I will protect you. Follow.” His abrupt rise disoriented her, and, even on all fours, she stumbled. He walked slowly, giving her time to reorient, but getting four limbs straightened out took all her attention; she was in some sort of tile pit and being hosed down before she knew what hit her.

The water was cold, like little knives all over her skin, forcing its way into her most intimate places in wet violation, horrible and wonderful

Vehicular
She found herself following him again, down endless hard tile floors, until the floor changed to concrete and he took her by the arm, pulling her up.

“Stand.”

They were in a large garage, behind a large car, the trunk popped. He was laying a blanket down in the trunk… Yaminah shook her head. No, no …

“Please, no.”

“We’re going to take a little trip. In.”

Whimpering, terrified, she climbed into the trunk, mortification doubling her terror as he pushed a pacifier between her lips. “Relax. There’s more… sedative… in that.” The trunk closed on her, shivering, relaxed. Trapped.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/214465.html. You can comment here or there.

Up Shit Creek

Dec25

For [livejournal.com profile] rix_scaedu‘s prompt.

Fae Apoc has a landing page here on DW and here on LJ – and here (and more updated) on lynthornealder.com.

🐎

“Come on, big brother,” Svadilfari teased. “We need you to prune the hawthorn and clean out the stables.”

“You know, we have normal, human staff for all that,” Pyry complained. He was sick to death of horse shit and hawthorn thorns.

“And we have a normal, human brother for that, too,” his younger sister Abasta pointed out. “Face it, Pie, no matter how much you wander around bothering the older fae, you’re never going to Change. You’re twenty-three. You’re Faded.”

“A genetic sport,” Svad offered. “A failure.”
Continue reading →

Family at Christmastime, a story of #Addergoole for the Giraffe Call – @theladyisugly

Dec20

For TheLadyisUgly’s prompt. This is set in the Addergoole ‘verse, whose landing page is here on DW & here on LJ.


Christmas Eve, Year 5 of the Addergoole School

The halls were quiet; it was, Yngvi mused, almost like the school was normal. Almost. He’d talked Ayla into an hour of hanging out, just the two of them, although it had been hard to pry her away from Io. The two were a beautiful couple; maybe some day…

He swallowed the sigh. Today should not be about angst, and there was enough to be happy about. “I’ve never had a sister before,” he told Ayla awkwardly, as they made their way into the tinsel-hung grotto.

“You have,” she teased. “From the sounds of it, lots and lots of sisters. And brothers.”

“And nieces and nephews,” he shook his head. “Our dear father seems to be both ancient and prolific.”

“Well, you’ll never be without family, then. Neither of us will. That’s kind of nice.”

“It is,” he agreed quietly. “That’s part of what I wanted to talk about.”

“Yeah?” She looked at him crookedly.

VI took a deep breath. “Okay, I have a feeling I’ll be making this promise a lot over the next four years, but here goes. I promise you, Ayla, that no matter happens, no matter who shows up in my life or yours, if you need me, all you have to do is tell me that, and I’ll help you out, whatever I can do.”

The air rippled and settled around them with the promise, and his sister blinked back tears. “Oh, Vi!” She hugged him tightly against her. “Vi… I promise the same. I’ll always be there for you!”

Christmas Eve, Year 25 of the Addergoole School (2019, 8 years after the apocalypse began)

“How do you think they’re doing?” Signy murmured, clutching her mug of cocoa.

“They’ll be fine,” Yngvi reassured her – reassured all of them, really, sitting around the café pretending their children weren’t all in prison for the holidays.

“I thought they’d come home for Christmas,” Ayla murmured. She’d been the one to make the call, this year, although usually it was Ein or Signy. It was always one of them, his Addergoole sisters, every Christmas Eve since 2003 (and they had quite a few to choose from).

“Even when they’re not Kept, they usually don’t,” Rory murmured; Callie’s kids were older than any of theirs, and so he’d gone through this before. “It gets weird, you remember, trying to shift between the real world and Addergoole.”

“But they’re my babies,” Ayla murmured. “Ni came home last year.”

“Only because your threatened to disown her if you didn’t get to meet your grandbaby,” Vi reminded her. “And it’s not that safe to travel anymore, Ay, you know that.”

“Yeah,” Signy murmured. “They’ll be fine.” She took a deep breath. “Think of it this way, guys. We always had each other. There was never a year when we didn’t have a brother or sister – or both – there to watch our backs. And our kids? Exponentially more family than we had.”

That got a smile from Aelgifu. “Indeed,” Yngvi smiled. “Our kids will always be there for each other, too.”

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/202705.html. You can comment here or there.