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Lost Collar, a ficlet of fae apoc

Feb11

Content warning: violence.

The muggers had taken almost everything off of Westcott – his phone, all his cash, the one credit card he carried, his rings, his diamond earrings, his coat, even his shoes. They’d left him for dead, or at least for hypothermia, beaten half into unconsciousness in a back alley.

He wouldn’t have fought them over the earring, or even the shoes or the phone. but they’d taken his collar, the collar his Lady had locked around his neck. They’d taken bolt cutters to it, laughing the whole time.

Westcott thought about dying. Then he remembered he had orders against that. He thought about staying in the alley until it wasn’t a choice, and remembered he needed to be home by midnight. He thought about tracking the muggers down and killing them… and had no orders against that, but no way to do it, either.

In the end, Westcott found his feet and began to limp home. His neck felt naked, more bare than his feet did. He felt incomplete; he felt wrong.

The hooker accosted him when he was halfway to the bus stop. “Hey, kid. Spare a light?”

He shouldn’t, but the energy for the Kwxe Working was easy, and he cupped his hands to hide the lack of lighter. “It’s going to get colder. You should be inside.”

“You offering, kiddo?”

“I don’t even have bus fare.” It hit him them. “Shit, I don’t even have bus fare.”

“You look like you got it bad.” She probably wasn’t older than Westcott; she probably wasn’t even older than the face he was wearing. But she looked worn thin already. “Here, buck fifty, right?” She dug change out of the pocket of her miniskirt. “Next time you’re around, remember me, all right?”

His collar was still missing, his neck was still bare. But Westcott managed a smile. “I can do that. Thanks.” There would be another collar. And, if he was lucky, his Lady would help him find the fiends who had taken it. “Thanks a lot.”

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/896875.html. You can comment here or there.

Amrit Splits Wood (FaeApoc, Amrit/Mieve)

Feb8

First: A beginning of a story which obnoxiously cuts off just before the description,
Previous: A Bit of a Transitional Chapter, where Amrit and Mieve start to work .

Fae Apoc, approx. now.

Content Warnings: This setting, although not this ficlet, contains rape, mind control, and dubious consent situations.

This particular story contains kidnapping and slavery, bondage, violence, and will eventually contain Stockholm Syndrome.

She was plowing. Amrit had looked up from his log-splitting – looking, of course, to see if he had an opening for escape – to see his captor pushing a plow through the field. When she’d given him his choice of tasks, he hadn’t really expected her to take the other option.

She didn’t look strong enough to push that thing through the dirt like that. Maybe she was using her telekinesis, or whatever it was? Whatever it was, she was plowing up furrows nearly as quickly as Amrit was splitting wood.

She’d set him a goal. It wasn’t going to be an easy goal, and he didn’t think she’d meant it to be. But the more he split, the more Amrit realized it was a do-able goal; and he thought she’d done that on purpose, too.

What sort of woman was she? Amrit watched her as he split, as he stacked wood, as he set another log on the block and swung the ax, as he worried his mouth around the gag. He couldn’t be her first slave. But the room he was sleeping in had no signs of recent inhabitence.

He split wood, he stacked wood, he split some more wood, he chewed on the gag and tasted blood. At the rate he was going, the pile she’d set him in front of would take him a week, maybe more. The last settlement he’d lived in had heated with wood; this much could heat a place the size of her cabin for the whole winter.

Of course, he wouldn’t be here by then. He’d be long gone, somewhere far away from gags and chains and slave-owners.

The sun was high in the sky when she came over to him, and Amrit was dripping sweat despite the cool air. So, he noted, was she. She offered him a canteen, seeming unworried about the ax in his hands. Well, of course. She could take it from him.

Amrit set it down before she decided to, and gestured to the gag.

“Kneel.”

There was no point in arguing that; she was nearly as tall as he was, but it would still be easier for her to work the lock from above. Amrit knelt, a Working forming in his mind.

She hesitated with her hand on the lock. “Remember. No Workings, or I take your air.”

He could Work faster than she could steal his air. He grunted assent, and waited for the moment of freedom.

He didn’t even get out Meentik; he got as far as Mee when an invisible hand lifted him in the air, choking him. He saw spots in front of his eyes; his sinuses felt as if they were going to explode.

And then she set him down and handed him the canteen. “Drink fast.” If Amrit didn’t know better, he’d think she was angry with him. “I suppose we’ll skip lunch.”

“Fuck you, lady.” At least no Workings started with fuh. Amrit chugged down the water and waited for the gag.

Next: http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/939320.html

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/894415.html. You can comment here or there.

Keeping Secrets

Feb8

Addergoole-‘verse, about 3 years after the end of the world. Warning: discussion of violence.

Also warning: it’s a fragment

“…and then…” Troia leaned forward over the table, already smiling. She loved this part of the story. She knew Achaeus loved it, too. It suited the violence of his Mara-blood; Troia had no such excuse. “I drove one last nail into her…” The door to the kitchen swung open, and Troia fell quiet.

Achaeus picked up for her. “Hey, Matt.”

She’d only been Keeping her former Keeper for a few days, and she had yet to accustom herself to the skittish refugee he’d become since the world ended. Troia smiled brightly at him, and was rewarded by a wan smile in return.

“We were just discussing breakfast. Any ideas?”

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/893972.html. You can comment here or there.

A Bit of a Transitional Chapter, where Amrit and Mieve start to work (fae apoc)

Feb1

First: A beginning of a story which obnoxiously cuts off just before the description,
Previous: In Which Amrit Starts to Learn his Limits.
Fae Apoc, approx. now.

Content Warnings: This setting, although not this ficlet, contains rape, mind control, and dubious consent situations.

This particular story contains kidnapping and slavery, bondage, and will eventually contain violence & Stockholm Syndrome.

Mieve was a bit surprised – despite her confidence in the strength of the restraints and the bed – to find her new slave still where she’d left him, and, from the sounds of things, still sleeping. He snored. Maybe it was best she was leaving him in his own room.

She let him stay there until the smell of cooking breakfast woke him – and wouldn’t it be nice if he’d settle down enough that she could trust him with that chore? – and got him to the kitchen with very little argument or fight. She could hear the noises his stomach was making; hunger was a pretty good motivator.

She dished his meal before she undid the gag. “No Workings, nothing that even sounds like a Working,” she warned him, “or I cut off your air and put the gag back in.”

For once, he neither swore at her nor fought it. Mieve imagined it was the farmer’s breakfast – eggs, the last bit of bacon from her last trade, toast with honey – laid out before him.

He ate without words, wiped his mouth afterwards, and sipped the water she’d left for him as if it was the finest wine.

When their plates were both clean, she steepled her fingers and looked at him over them. “Okay, you’ve got two choices today. You can split wood or plow the field.”

He barely thought about it for a second. “Split wood.”

“Be forewarned.” She picked up the gag again. “If you use the axe to break your chain, I will break your leg.”

He didn’t flinch, but she noticed that he considered it. “Noted.” He nodded at her.

“Good.” Dead gods, he was going to make her do it, wasn’t he? Well, maybe she could gentle him before it came to that. She held up the gag towards him; he sighed and opened his mouth.

“This way.” Leading him around on a tether was going to get old fast; she could only hope it got old faster for him.

The firewood was a pile taller than either of them, heaped off to the side of the garage. There was already a loop set in the ground for his chain; she locked him in place before she handed him the ax. “If you fill this rack here before dinner time, I’ll give you an hour without the gag tonight.” It wouldn’t be an easy day, but it was well within her ability, and ought to be within his, too. “I’ll see you at noon for lunch.”

Mieve’s tiny farm took a lot of work. She spent an hour in the morning fashioning her captive a gag that wouldn’t cut his mouth open, the thwack of the ax into wood a constant background music. He worked fast, and he worked steadily. He probably hadn’t been enslaved long, then: he hadn’t been abused, he hadn’t been starved, and he hadn’t been broken of hope.

Once she was satisfied with her handiwork, Mieve went out to the field. There was still three hours before noon, and the field still needed to be plowed.

next: http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/894415.html

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/892291.html. You can comment here or there.

Dungeons, a story for fun (Fae Apoc)

Jan30

Fae apoc, forced imprisonment, dungeon.

The apocalypse had its advantages.

Oh, the first ten years had been a mess, and the next ten had been pretty dire, but Asymptote had some good Words and some really good luck, and she’d been able to hold tight through the worst of it.

And then she’d lucked – again, she had great luck – on this lovely house that was nearly a castle, all empty, sitting up on the hill. And its basement had been perfect.

After that, it was just a matter of plucking the right people as they happened by, like a trap-door spider, but so much more elegant. Asy headed down to the basement, where the chains were once again rattling.

“Oh, come now.” There were three occupants of her dungeon right now. The first had only been there a day, the second, a week. But the third…

“I think you’re about ripe, don’t you?” She stood just outside the reach of his chains. He was a handsome one, or he would be again when she got him cleaned up. He had demon horns and a tail, and had possessed washboard abs a month ago.

Right now, he was on his knees, because he had learned the hard way that he was only fed while kneeling. His hair had grown shaggy. But his back was unbowed.

“I know I stink,” he told her. His voice was raw; he’d been shouting again while she was out. “But you’re the rotten one.”

“Oh, dear. A day, a week, a month… I suppose I’ll have to leave you in here a year.”

He said nothing, didn’t look at her, didn’t move. It wasn’t until Asy was on the stairs heading away from him that he let out the softest choked whimper.

Yep. She had him. The fun would begin in another week.

next: http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1086958.html

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/891651.html. You can comment here or there.

Paying Attention, a story of Fae Apoc for Thimbleful Thursday

Jan29

He’d never noticed her.

She’d changed her hair color and gotten a haircut. She’d gotten not just one but three promotions at work, one of them directly over him.

He still didn’t notice her.

She saved his life in the middle of the Fae Attack, and he brushed himself off and muttered cursory thanks while eyeing the blonde from IT. She saved his life again when the hell-hounds came running through – and the blonde’s life; no reason to let her die.

He still didn’t notice her.

So she set his world on fire, stepped out into the street and burned it down around his ears, leaving only him alive.

To today’s Thimbleful Thursday prompt, “Set the world on fire,” 110 words.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/891611.html. You can comment here or there.

In Which Amrit begins to learn his limits (Fae Apoc, Amrit/Mieve)

Jan26

First: A beginning of a story which obnoxiously cuts off just before the description,
Previous: IAmrit is Introduced to His New Life.
Fae Apoc, approx. now.

Content Warnings: This setting, although not this ficlet, contains rape, mind control, and dubious consent situations.

This particular story contains kidnapping and slavery, bondage, and will eventually contain violence & Stockholm Syndrome.

Amrit glared at his captor. So she had a trick, great. She couldn’t seriously expect him to just give in, could she? “Fuck – argh.”

She had, of course, jammed the gag in the minute he opened his mouth. “Don’t worry,” she assured him. “I know what you were going to say.” Her invisible force held his arms down while she buckled the gag in place and padlocked it, fuck her. Amrit worked his mouth around the damn thing. It was mostly metal, from the taste and feel, pushing against the sides of his mouth and holding his tongue down. It was irritating, a constant presence, but what was worrying was the way it abraded the sides of his mouth. If it broke the skin, the skin would heal, once the hawthorn left his system. And pulling a gag out when the skin had healed over it would seriously suck.

Her fingers brushed the edges of his mouth. “Tomorrow, I’ll pull together a better gag for long-term wear, since it appears you don’t want to cooperate. Come on. I’m going to put you to bed, and we can worry about the rest tomorrow.”

Bed? The pressure on his chest and arms let up, and Amrit stood. He shook his ankle, which was still chained to the table, only to see the chain unlock itself and snake into his captor’s hand. “Please try not to do anything stupid for the next three minutes.”

Amrit ran. Or, at least, he took off, only to trip and barely miss landing on his face. Invisible hands caught him and put him back on his feet. “That,” the woman pointed out dryly, “does not count as not doing anything stupid.”

Amrit muttered something into the gag, not bothering with trying to make the words coherent. She was stronger than she looked – or she’d figured out how to use her obvious telekinesis to buff her strength. He might not be able to overpower her; he was going to have to figure out how to outsmart her, or just take her by surprise.

Not right now; she was waiting for it. He grunted inquisitively: where was he going?

“Walk straight forward.”

She pressed lightly on the small of his back. “The door at the end of the hallway. The door on the right is the bathroom, and the door on the left… probably won’t concern you.”

Amrit walked straight forward. The door she’d indicated opened into a small bedroom with a large window – covered in a decorative iron grate – and a small bed. Still, it was a bed, with blankets and everything.

“Lay down, get comfortable.” She pushed on the small of his back again. Amrit didn’t need to be told twice. If he wasn’t going to escape right now, he might as well get some much-needed sleep. He flopped down on the bed, twisted until the lock on the gag wasn’t digging into the back of his head, and pulled the blanket up to his hips.

“Very good.” She straddled him, her invisible hands pressing just enough to tell him not to move. “I bet you’re not surprised that I’m going to tie you down a bit.” Her hands were gentle as she locked fur-lined leather restraints around his wrists and ankles. Amrit could still move, but the only way he was standing up was if he took the bed with him. He shifted under her, testing the limits of the bonds.

“You know,” she pointed out, “if you’d just agree to belong to me, we could avoid all this.”

Amrit worked his mouth around the gag. “Uh oo, ayee.”

“Good night to you, too, my pet.” She pulled the curtains closed, leaving Amrit in the dark. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

Next: http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/892291.html

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/890431.html. You can comment here or there. comment count unavailable

After Release

Jan25

This story is from the middle of a RP, so requires a bit of background. Short version: Vanyel (yes, named after that Vanyel) got himself stuck in an unpleasant Keeping (not awful, as these things go, just not great) and has just been released. He’s hiding in his room, like you do.

Addergoole, approximately 12 years after the apocalypse.

The teachers waited until Saturday morning, but when it became clear Van wasn’t coming out, Luke pounded on the door.

Vanyel opened the door, but kept his whole body carefully within the threshold. “I’m fine.”

“You can’t stay in there all weekend.”

“I’ve got-” he glanced at his kitchenette. “A bag of rice, a can of salsa, and two tins of fish. I could stay in here for days.”

Luke sighed. “But you can’t stay in there forever.”

“No.” Vanyel shook his head. “Of course I can’t.” He hadn’t taken the steel collar off. It had a lock, and he… probably could’ve Worked it. He just… hadn’t. IT was heavy against his neck, almost reassuring.

“At least let Dr. Caitrin take a look at you.”

“There’s nothing wrong with me.” He pulled the robe tighter around himself.

“You walked back to your room naked, son, there’s no use lying about it.”

Van sighed and stepped out of the way. “Fine. Dr. Caitrin, Luke, please come in if you mean me and mine no harm.” Better than standing in the doorway arguing; the second-year across the hallway had opened her door and two third-years were staring from the lounge.

The doctor started her Working before the door was shut, while Luke stood stoically. “She didn’t even take the collar off?” Almost stoically.

“I didn’t ask her do.” He touched it cautiously. “I didn’t give her time to.”

“May I?” It was the gentlest he had ever heard the gym teacher. Van nodded silently. It wasn’t like Ava’s collar could protect him anymore anyway. It wasn’t as if it had really protected him in the first place.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/889953.html. You can comment here or there.

Addergoole TVTropes Page Needs Help! (Lots of Help)

Jan23

It was brought to my attention that the Addergoole TVTropes page (http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Literature/Addergoole?from=Main.Addergoole), which I thought had been deleted for PWP problems, is still active.

And um, it needs help. The tropes have no descriptions, spoilers, or bad (inaccurate or silly) descriptions. They are often not cross-linked. There are some missing, the description is okay (straight off the main page; I can’t complain too much) but I think fails to cover exactly how dark Ag is.

So… I don’t know how many entries yet, that’s open to negotiation, but let’s start with, I’ll write 250 words (related to the tropes in question, somehow, or something else at your request) for the first 5 entries people fix. Comment here with fixed things.

Thanks!

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/889334.html. You can comment here or there.