If I was going to put together of new and previously-written stories about one character from the Addergoole ‘verse (or possible one pairing), who would you like to see?
As many options as you’d like, you don’t have to belimited to just one right now!
This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/655315.html. You can comment here or there.
Here – Meeting the Parents, Moving in Together, and Crossover (Criminal Minds! With thanks to
)
These are three more responses to ![[personal profile]](http://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
clare_dragonfly ‘s prompts to my meme post here.
This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/653984.html. You can comment here or there.
To thnidu‘s prompt to this ![[community profile]](http://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
dailyprompt prompt.
This comes after A Handful of Kai-Rozen Fics. Well, it comes after the post-apoc one “Secret Kink.”
He wasn’t about to tell the gorgeous girl that this was his first time.
He could fudge it, a little. He’d had girlfriends back home, of course. There’s been kissing. There’d been… stuff.
There hadn’t been five-inch stiletto heels. There hadn’t been a girl shoving him back on the bed and straddling him. There hadn’t been the momentary panic as she ripped – ripped – his suit pants off (there’d been a dance, he’d never talk shit about dances again) and straddled him, her dress around her hips.
There’d never been anything like Dita; all he could do was hang on and enjoy the ride. Getting his feet wet? This was diving into the pool with his clothes still on.
~
“I’ve never done anything like this.” Mea squirmed under Rozen. She was smiling. She was happy. He hadn’t been sure if he could expect happy.
“Hold onto the headboard.” Best, everyone had said, to remind them right away. “Look, you can think of this as getting your feet wet.”
“Getting my feet wet?” She wiggled her toes. “Okay. So, this is… the first step?”
Rozen pushed her dress aside. Her hands were gripped onto the headboard and she hadn’t noticed. “Or diving in.” His teeth found her breast.
~
“Hold on to the headboard.” Kaiani had replaced her wooden headboard with an iron one – harder for him to break, at least. “At least until I get the ropes tied.”
“I’ve never…” Rozen closed his mouth with a snap. His… his Owner… was looking at him sideways, her expression unclear.
“We talked about this. It’s not really bondage, not the way I understand it – I still have the magical handcuffs the Thorne Girls gave me, somewhere – but it’s a start. It’s, hrrm, getting our feet wet.” She tied the rope around Rozen’s wrists and looped it around the headboard in expert-looking knots. “Test it.”
He tugged carefully. The ropes had just enough give. “Feet wet?”
She kissed his throat with careful precision. “Both of us.”
This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/653547.html. You can comment here or there.
This is to clare_dragonfly‘s prompt to my December Bingo card for origfic_bingo.
It fills the “Lost and Found” Square.
It comes after/concurrent with –
Toy Soldiers
With Friends Like These…,
Cleaning Up and
this scrap (http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/398701.html)
Monsters
Mimosas.
S for Shahin
E is For Emrys/Harder than Diamonds
and is part of my Addergoole sub-‘verse, with characters from my Addergoole webserial.
“You know your options. What are you going to do?”
Ty studied its mistress unhappily. “That’s not a fair question, and you know it… Mistress.”
“I know. And I apologize for that. This isn’t going to be easy on you, Tya, whichever route either of us take.”
“No.” Ty rolled its shoulders. “But… maybe that’s what I needed. Life was easy for a long time. And now…”
Shahin packed the last piece of bedding into her pack. “And now, you need to pack, or not.”
Ty winced. “And leave you, follow you, or wait for you.”
“Yes. I apologize. But…”
“I understand. If I had someone like Emrys…” The message had come back from Addergoole, not from Regine, but from Shira Pelletier. Tell the Rapier: What was lost might be found again; the fire has always been at home in the cold; the hills are not hills.
Shahin nodded crisply. “I do need your decision.”
“I’ll come with you.” It didn’t take long to pack up its gear; it had come with little and half of that had been confiscated. Ty was surprised, on filling its pack, to find that its mistress was adding things – another blanket, a hunting knife, a small mess kit.
“Tell me why?”
Ty sighed. “Because I can help you. Because this is going to be really dangerous, and you don’t even know exactly what you’re getting into.” It swallowed, but found it couldn’t stop. “Because I don’t want to be left behind. And… and because you’re making me somebody better.”
Her hand lingered on its cheek. Ty sighed. “I hope you found Emrys. I, um. I think I’m finding Ty.”
This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/651527.html. You can comment here or there.
So a while ago I posted a meme, and I am slowly working my way through answering.
Kai/Rozen: Fake dating, Bodyswap, Sexpollen here
Kai/Rozen: Dark!Fic, Secret Kink, Their first Kiss here. content warning: the dark fic is dark, implied rape or torture preparation
This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/648028.html. You can comment here or there.
This is… pretty much what it says. It’s thinking about students leaving Ag after the war, and what legacy that leaves.
There were three teenagers and four toddlers at the gate of the town, with a two-horse wagon drawn by the biggest horses anyone in the town had ever seen.
The guard did not fail to notice that two of the three semi-adult people were girls, nor that the two horses came with two foals alongside. Those facts alone meant the travelers were due some consideration. Then the shorter of the two women began to speak, her voice pitched to carry over the wall.
“We were trained at the Addergoole school. I am a doctor and educator; my companions are a metalworker-and-veterinarian and a linguist-and-weapons-expert.”
The man stepped up beside her and repeated this in the three most common languages for this area, while the third stayed in the background. The woman continued.
“We seek a place to set up business, and a place to shelter with our children.”
The guards had sent a runner to the Mayor the minute the woman said “Addergoole School.” As the translator was finishing up the round of languages, the mayor spoke up.
“Will you swear the oath?”
Even from the top of the wall, they could see the woman stiffen. They reached for their weapons. “What oath?”
“Swear that you seek to work with us and for us, not against us.”
“I will swear that we will offer no harm unless attacked, that we will work as members of your town.”
“A doctor, you said? And a veterinarian, and a weapons-master?” The Mayor knew, better than most, the needs of his town.
“Yes.”
“That oath will do. Enter, then. We can find you a place to live for starters.”
~~
The world ended in 2011. For thirty years since then, students had been leaving Addergoole.
Many of them went back to their parents, at least to start – especially those raised on the Ranch, in the Castle, in the Burrow or the Cave, Forest Manor or Cabal’s Mountain or the Eyrie. Some stayed in the Village for a year, for a few years, until their children were grown. A few went to work for the school, or for one of the affiliated groups.
But many – almost all, in the long run – went out into the world, looking to make a place for themselves. They traveled on foot, on wing, in cars and wagons, on horseback, by teleportation, however they could make it, until they found a town that looked suitable, for whatever definition of “suitable” they were using.
And, eventually, it would come out – not from all, not even from most, but from enough of them – where they’d gotten the wagon, the horse, the training, the children. Addergoole.
Addergoole.
Addergoole.
The name meant trouble, sometimes – teenagers with more power than sense, angry kids, scared kids, hungry kids – and the towns had learned to beware, and to ask for assurances. But, often enough that they were not entirely turned off of the name, it meant help. Medical training. Book training. Mechanical training.
“It’s a school,” their benefactors would hedge. “My parents went there.”
And so, thirty years after the apocalypse, the name Addergoole elicited envy and bitterness, fear and gratitude, and more than a bit of confusion.
This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/646453.html. You can comment here or there.
This began here with a meme; it takes part after Rix’s guest fic here (and click “next” for the second part.)
In the BAU they didn’t give serial killers cute nicknames – that was the business of the press – but if they had, this one would probably be That Bastard.
(Penelope, privately, called him The Creepy Bastard, and he deserved the name).
They were coming to the conclusion that the sick fucker – not all that sick, not in the scope of things they’d seen – might just be smarter than them. And that was a thing that was outside of their mythology. Serial killers, after all, had only themselves, and maybe, just maybe, a partner. They had the whole team, and all the resources of the FBI.
And then… the strangest of dead ends. They’d figured out his pattern, because he had one. They’d found him with the girl on a surveillance video. And then… gone.
They’d tracked him to the factory, though, and when they’d started scanning the ground, they’d found remains. That had led to some digging, and, on a whim, when the first set of remains – old ones, they couldn’t be the same guy’s work, they predated the freaking factory – was so close to the bedrock as to be sitting on it, Reid had them pull in more intense equipment and they scanned the bedrock.
Privately, Derek Morgan was muttering Idu Eperu to himself and hoping nobody overheard. There were some things FBI background checks just didn’t cover…
They found the victims first. And then, only a few feet away from the skeleton of a post-pubescent girl… a male skeleton. His head was between his feet, and there was something sticking into his heart. Wood, the radar operator thought.
Derek’s heart slowed. He swallowed, and checked out the expression on their resident – human – genius. He hadn’t put it together yet. Good.
==
“You have to wonder about his victims.” He flipped through the images on his tablet, moving ostentatiously and putting the tablet in Reid’s line of sight.
“‘His’ victims? Derek, these bodies go back for centuries. There’s no way they could be the work of one guy. The oldest documented human being only lived to be one hundred and twenty-two years old. Either the age of the factory is improperly documented, or we have the work of some sort of copy-cat killer or killers.”
“Or he faked the burials to make it look like they were placed before the factory was built.” Derek felt dirty. He was putting forth information that directly contradicted his own knowledge regarding the case. But his choices were limited.
Spencer was still frowning. Processing. “How did he get the bodies down there, anyway? Some of those bodies are embedded into the bedrock. And how are we going to get them out of there?”
“They can’t be in the bedrock. The radar has to be wrong.”
There was a reason Derek was in the BAU, a reason besides his profiling skill and his aim with a gun. Without steering, the BAU would have figured out the existence of the Ellehemaei – of the Nedetakaei- long ago.
So the bodies couldn’t be in the bedrock.
“And what’s this guy? All the vics are posed exactly the same. It’s almost ritualistic, especially if you look at how the bodies are grouped. They must have done some sort of map or paperwork. I wish the excavating team would move faster.” Spencer was pacing now, brushing his gloved fingers over everything in the sparsely-furnished space.
This, Derek could help with. He stretched his legs and looked around the room.
“He snatched them from nearby gas stations. He brought them here in that van, and he raped them.” He kicked at the sleeping bag. “This is a bachelor’s set-up, nothing fancy, no trappings of a temple or anything like that. This wasn’t the sort of space he expected to impress anyone – but it’s not set up to frighten them, either.”
He’d lost Spence. He glanced over at his teammate and suppressed a sigh. The genius was studying the body layout on the radar scans again. “Morgan, look at this.”
He’d drawn out the shape on a paper. Shapes, when you really peered at it.
“It’s almost like they’re letters.”
Derek’s heart tried to stop. Not almost like; they were letters.
“I feel like I’ve seen them before, somewhere in my mother’s books.”
Derek looked at the scans again. He was pretty sure he knew what that one was, the anomaly that messed up the pattern. The bastard had picked on the wrong girl, and she’d left him where all his old victims were.
“Okay.” He made a cursory search of the drawers – an old toolchest sat against one wall, near the second set of manacles. Most of the tools in there now didn’t bear thinking about, but there was an old notebook, scribbled in so long it was covered with notations.
Like the message written in bodies, it was all in Old Tongue.
Derek sighed. He had his loyalties. He had always had his loyalties, and if they’d changed over the years, well…
A fae’s first loyalty was to their crew.
“All right, so he’s trying to tell us something. Here’s his notebook; it’s written in the same thing, looks like. What can you do with it, genius?”
Next: http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/660116.html
This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/643342.html. You can comment here or there.
To clare_dragonfly‘s prompt to this trope_bingo card.
This fills my “Matchmaker” square.
“He’s a brat. A bastard.”
“We’re all bastards here, Sabine. Almost all.” Querida’s correction came fast on the heels of a glare from George.
Sabine added her own glare to the mix. “That’s not what I meant and you know it. The little shit is either going to end up cy’Fridmar or cy’Drake, and neither way is it going to be my problem. “
“Oh, come on, Sabine, you know that it wouldn’t be that bad if you had a collar on him.”
“Why are you pushing this so hard, George? I’d have figured you’d be, i don’t know, against Keeping.”
“A Keeping, done properly, is not inherently sinful. I have faith that you would treat the boy properly, and, considering what he’s going to end up with otherwise…”
“Now that’s just fighting dirty. What’s more, it’s fighting dirty and I’m not going to take it.”
~~
“She’s a bitch. She’s a terrifying bitch and I’m not going there with anyone, much less her.”
“I understand, Holles. However, for all that Sabine can come off as a ‘bitch’ to you, I think you need to consider the possibility.”
“I told you, I have no intention of giving into this stupid shit for anyone, much less that bitch.” He crossed his arms over his chest and glared at Professor Valerian. “And why do you care, anyway? You’re not my Mentor, you’re not her Mentor…”
“Shira Pelletier sees the way things might be. I’m not that good. What I can see, sometimes, is how people might click.”
“Your innate power is matchmaking?”
“No. But I have developed a skill in it.” She was implacable. Professor Valerian outside of class was often like that – terrifyingly direct and utterly immovable. It was like trying to argue with some old oak tree. The tree might not hit back, but it was going to win.
He had to try, anyway. “There’s no way. Nobody trapped me on Hell Night; I’m home free. Can we drop this now?”
~~
“Hey, look, it’s Bible Boy. Does your religion allow you to play pool?”
“Cillian. Tzefira. Donahue.” George nodded to each of them in turn. “I’m here to make a deal.”
Holles didn’t dare hope. He didn’t dare anything, even watch, but he couldn’t really stop himself from listening.
“A deal.” Donahue took over the conversation. “We were just playing a lovely game of pool.”
“You were hustling the young man after Tzefira got him drunk. It’s not hardly a fair game.”
What? Well, he was a little tipsy, but it was just a game of pool. The stakes hadn’t been for real… had they?
Yeah… yeah, they had. And he was losing pretty badly.
“And what of it? There’s no rules against cheating, or we’d all be having quite a different life.”
“Of course there isn’t. But, considering the particular interest certain people have taken in this kid, maybe you might want to think about this deal before it lands on your head.”
“And what are you going to offer me that’s sweeter than his squirming panicking self and the things he will do to get out of a bad situation?”
Querida stepped forward around George. “We have some ideas.”
~~
Sabine stared at the boy. She was uncertain why Querida and George had bound his hands behind his back, except that it added more than a little force to the words they were saying.
In this situation, she could’t, or at least wouldn’t, say I told you I didn’t want him. Not when they were passing him over collared and bound.
“This is an interesting solution,” she said instead.
“He was going to end up under Donahue for a year, and neither of us thought that was a lovely idea. Besides, almost walking himself into a trap has softened him up a little bit.” Querida patted Holles on the shoulder. “Mind you, I’m not saying he’s not still a brat. But I think he’s a brat you can work with.”
She didn’t have that many choices. “All right, then. Holles…”
“You’re still a bitch, too.”
“Of course I am.” Nobody else would put up with you. “Come here.”
This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/642400.html. You can comment here or there.
This ficlet was written after looking at this sketch by silvertales, with their permission. He looked like someone out of a sub-line of a bloodline of Addergoole (Although the horns had to have come from his mother’s side of the family…), so I asked @Kissofjudas to name him, since ri’s named most of Astarot’s line.
This was actually an experiment in how much I could write the mood without revealing the plot.
“No.”
Mormo was unimpressed.
“Yes.”
To be fair, everyone in the room was unimpressed.
“I said no, damnit.” Mormo glared across the room. One hoof scuffed the floor, and the tracework of lights that was part of his Change lit up his forehead and cheeks. “This is my last year of school. There’s no way.”
“It has to be done.” Now it had turned into a three-way argument. Tempers were only going to get hotter. I stayed in a corner, watched the three of them, and said nothing at all. This might be about me, but it didn’t involve me.
The glow from Mormo’s forehead was threatening to blind the rest of the room. “There is no way. No way that you are going to talk me into that. And especially not with her.“
“Nobody is asking your opinion on the matter. We’re telling you how things are going down.”
I wanted to say something. I really did. Her? Like I was some sort of non-entity?
But they had pushed Mormo too far, and that was about when everything exploded.
This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/641571.html. You can comment here or there.
This is to rix_scaedu‘s prompt to this card, for trope_bingo. It fills the “au: college / highschool” square.
As such, this is decidedly AU, with characters from my Addergoole ‘verse.
Mike was lost. He straightened his cuffs in tie, checked his reflection in a trophy case (yay, tie, double yay, trophies), and wondered where he was. The school was new, sure, but how could he have gotten this lost before he’d even made it to a class.
“Hey, you the new guy?” They face coming into view up the stairs looked familiar; a quick glance back at the trophy case told Mike why. Broad nose, glower, short no-nonsense haircut, check. He was a lot shorter in person, though.
“That’s me, The new blood.” Mike shifted posture, trying to look shorter. “The dumb one who got lost before my first class.”
“Mike, right?”
“That’s the short form, yeah.” There was absolutely no point in alienating the jock faster than he had to. “And you would be… Luca Hawk?”
“Call me Luke.” Call-me-Luke tilted his head at the stairs. “Professor Storm sent me looking for you. You’re late to class.”
“I think I took a wrong turn at Albuquerque.” The thing was, Call-me-Luke wasn’t glaring any less, but Mike didn’t think it was directed at him in any way. The jock just seemed to be generally glare-y.
“That happens. Other new kid got lost, too.”
“So, will you show me to.. Professor Storm’s class?”
“That’s what I’m here for.” The guy actually cracked a bit of a smile.
Mike was in trouble. When Luke smiled, he was absolutely stunning. He swallowed and let himself be led into class.
The teachers – Ms. Storm and Ms. Kalonimos, Mr. Garcia and Mr. Petros – were far too good looking to be in a school, certainly all in the same school. It didn’t matter. His classmates – Regine and Laurel, Shira and Sang Ki – they were all beautiful, delicious, and even Regine, the school genius, smiled at him. It didn’t matter. The jock had smiled at him.
The guy was helpful, he was friendly, and he was distracting. Mike tripped and fell in gym; Luke caught him and set him on his feet. He got lost three days running, and Luke found him. It would have been brilliant, if Mike was doing it on purpose. If he’d been doing it on purpose… and if had been working.
Shira liked him. He kind of liked Shira, too, scary as she was. (Mike wasn’t one to throw stones, not with his glass house, but he was pretty sure the girl was feral. At least it was a nice-smelling sort of feral). She liked him, and had been very clear on exactly how much she’d like to like him somewhere behind the bleachers.
Ginger liked him. Ginger wanted him to take her to the Homecoming dance. Regine… offered to help him with his homework, which Mike took her up on because he was pretty sure she actually meant it.
But Luca Hawk, Mr. Call-me-Luke… Mike twisted an ankle coming out of class because he was looking the wrong way, slipped, and fell right in front of Luke. Again.
As the jock was helping Mike up, again, he muttered something in Mike’s ear.
He couldn’t have… he didn’t… he… Mike went limp.
I’m flattered, but I’m not into guys.
Mike’s school life had just gotten a whole bunch longer.
This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/639834.html. You can comment here or there.
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