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Landing Page: Tír na Cali

“Redheaded magic ladies who kidnap sex slaves and also there are catgirls.”
– inventrix

Slavery, abduction, and magic, high fantasy and erotica, all in an alternate-history version of the American West Coast, where Washington State, Oregon, California, and Baja California are all part of a hierarchical, matriarchal monarchy called Tír na Cali. The nation is ruled by a large extended family who call themselves, privately, the Tuatha de Danaan, and who purportedly worship pleasure and sex.

While the two worlds diverged long, long ago – when the Tuatha de Danaan first recognized their own power, centuries past – the most visible split from modern history occurred during the 1800’s, when the West Coast seceded from the United States in the midst of the Civil War, a move set in place almost a century before by the Tuatha.

In this world, the US never lost its puritanical sheen, in direct response to the licentious nature of their enemy to the West, the Californians. And the Californians, who hold power in part due to the royal family’s psychic powers, continue to steal young adults from the US to serve as their slaves.


Stories to start with:
Fish Story(LJ link)
Tea with HER and following stories (see below)
Second Pressing


Continue reading

Normal American

For DaHob, a ficlet of Tír na Cali.  

🔒

“So… you’re pretty normal?”

As far as come-on lines went, Barty had definitely heard worse.  He’d heard better a couple times, sure, but while he was okay-looking, he wasn’t usually the hottest guy in the bar and definitely wasn’t the richest in any room.

Maybe that’s why he hadn’t been careful.  Maybe it had been the way she clicked her hair over a bare shoulder.  Maybe it had been the way she smiled like he was very, very important to her.

Whatever it had been, it had gotten him in her bed, and that had been, well.  Barty wasn’t the sort to say things like “mind-blowing,” but… his mind was pretty blown.

And now, now he was sitting on bleachers with fifty other Americans, wearing collars and sweats and all of them feeling a little uncomfortable.  

“The purpose of this mission is to acquaint Californian agents with American customs.  To that end, every one of you is going to have a house, a job, and several assignments.  You are going to have two weeks to settle in, and then you will be shadowed by Californian agents.  Do you understand?”

The woman speaking was tall, a valkyrie, and she looked deadly.  Standing to one side of her was the girl Barty had gone home with.

Looking at her, he had to admit he’d probably go home with her again.

Someone else’s hand rose.  Someone shouted out a question.

“Why should we help you?”

“Well.  Because the options are to take this service, which has a certain amount of leeway, or, considering the qualities for which you were acquired—”

So… you’re pretty normal?

“–will likely end up being field work.”

Barty sighed.  Sometimes, he’d fantasized about being kidnapped by a beautiful Californian woman.  He looked down at his little book of assignments. He hadn’t imagined it would end up with him being an accountant.

At least they’d given him a promotion.

 

Mer-May

Warning: Pinterest

In honor of Pinterest getting sub-boards (YAY!) and Mer-May and… things… I offer this prompt call.

Either:

Check out my Addergoole Changes Pinterest board and/or the Mermaids sub-board (I’m still moving stuff…)

or my Tumblr tags Addergoole Change and/or Addergoole Changes

(or just do some google image searching)

Pick an image, and prompt me with it.

Text along with the image is welcome (“what is he plotting?” “Why is she there?” “This should be in Things Unspoken…”)

No promises I’ll get to them all, but I’ll try to do at least a few a week all May.

(Aquatic creatures are clearly the preference but not required)

Tír na Cali-Flight Rising

oops

🐉

They had been meant to be field workers, fodder, perhaps sacrifices to the Goddess if the year was lean.

Their parents didn’t even know each other.  They had been “suggested” to breed by the simple expedient of feeding them the strongest aphrodisiac drugs and then locking them in a small padded room together with nothing else to do.  The farm needed workers, and, in a year like this, sometimes the Goddess needed a couple brought to her side to help them.  Nobody spoke of that, of course, like a pile of other things that nobody spoke of, but it still happened.

The field overseer looked at the two slender pre-teens.  They had grey eyes and red hair and sunburnt the moment the sun touched them.  They had an aristocratic pose and the boy looked almost exactly like the late Baron Tannen.

“These two aren’t for the fields or the Goddess,” he muttered.  “Consort save me, what am I going to do with them?” Continue reading

Patreon Posts!


Originally posted April 15, 2012. 

🏞️

“So what do I do?” He couldn’t help but betray his common roots, she knew, or his American upbringing, but here and now, it rankled.

Read On


Originally written March 8, 2012, as a belated birthday present for my mother.  It’s about a magical moment.

🌳

The forest was still that day.

Read On


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Their walk took them further and further out past the stem of Aereaxera , past dozens and dozens of the little hezzai-ai and several other fascinating creatures.  Cartwright stopped three times to gather plant bundles, which he hung off of his pack till he began to look like a sort of walking herbery.

Open to all Patrons!

Patreon: Onions, a fishy repost, and Taco Salad!

🥗
So we tried a thing last night and it actually turned out well!

We had ground beef to eat and it was way too hot for eating spaghetti or hamburgers or anything too hot.
Available for all “Recipe Box” patrons!


Originally posted June 16, 2011.
🐟
The sushi bar had a mermaid in its fish tank.

I was new in town, having just recently parlayed my experience with the Agency into a cushy consulting gig and my hazard pay into a nice little house…

Read on!


These are walking onions. They make bulbs on the top of their stalks, which make another stalk with another bulb, which makes… you guessed it, another stalk with another bulb!!

Take a Peek!

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Feral Kitties, a continuation for Tír na Cali.

After Kitties and Fancy-Dressed Kitties

Rrian, the new assistant gardener for Lady Enasshi, found himself spending his off time looking at the other slaves on the estate.

Helena, the chatelaine, had a very subtle mod – she had cat eyes and slightly pointed, slightly tufted ears, and a slight change in the way she walked. To look at her move around the estate, you’d have thought she had been raised from day one to be a fine lady’s chatelaine.

And maybe she had, Rrian reminded himself. Not all moddies were made or raised by the Agency, the way he had.

Tabitha, the assistant chef, definitely had been. The way she handled a knife was terrifying. The way she looked at Rrian – now that was something.

He let her stalk him into the rear garden when he was off-duty, leaving enough of a trail that even a full human might have been able to find him. She didn’t need it. But he wanted to be sure she knew he was aiming to be followed.

She caught him by the fountain of Enasshi’s royal ancestor Tertia, pounced on him and knocked him to the ground. Rrian looked up at her and smiled.

“You were Agency,” she accused. She sniffed the sides of his neck. He bared his neck to her, because she was sharp.

“So were you.” He grinned at her, all sharp teeth. “And here we are.”

She settled back on her heels, straddling his thighs, looking at him. “So what do we do now?”

“Well… According to what the head gardener, the chatelaine, and our Lady herself has told me… on our time off? Anything we want.”

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Fancy-Dressed Kitties, a continuation for Tír na Cali.

After Kitties

Enasshi’s new assistant gardener tugged at the sleeves of his coat. “This is…” He coughed.

“It is,” agreed the head gardener, a fox moddie who was wearing breeches and nothing else. “The good news is, when you’re in the back yard, the gardens, or anywhere but the front yard or the public spaces, just wear the pants – and the shirt if you want it. The rest is for public places.”

The assistant gardener looked down at the pile of clothing in his arms. “So she knows we get it dirty, ‘cause there’s seven changes of clothes here. But there’s seven changes of clothes here. I think that costs more than she spent on me.”

“Let’s be honest.” The head gardener smirked. “She doesn’t spend all that much on us.”

The assistant gardener looked up, startled. “…Us?”

“Oh, come on, kid, you didn’t think you were the only one, did you? No, this is on purpose. Here, sit down, put those clothes down. Nobody does yard work at noon, anyway. No.” The head gardener tucked his tail around a stool as he sat down. “She found out about the moddies that don’t work out. ‘Unsuitable’ moddies. Don’t you dare tell anyone I told you, but Helena, the chatelaine, she was first. And after that – there’s not an unmodified staff member left in the house.”

“We’re… all ‘unsuitable?’” Suddenly the assistant gardener looked frightened. “But isn’t that dangerous?”

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Kitties~ (A sketch of Tír na Cali)

There had always been something a little strange about the Baroness Enasshi ni Firanne O Tertia’s household.

To be fair, the entire O Tertia household had been strange right from its founding, and their little barony, barely more than a town and some fields, drew more attention than something its size had any right to.

But ever since Enasshi – and what sort of name was that? – took over from her mother Firanne (speaking of names) on that worthy’s seventieth birthday (speaking of anomalies; most Baronesses had to wait until their mother died, not just until they turned seventy; seventy was nothing to the children of the gods), the little Barony’s little household had gotten even stranger.

Lady Enasshi had spent three years in Great Britain when she was in her early twenties, something that was not unheard-of but not all that common, and there were those who suggested that it might be a British influence. Others suggested the two years in Japan, the year in France, or even the six months she’d spent touring Africa. As a rule, it was generally agreed that, for a Californian noble, she’d spent far, far too much time overseas.

Which might be what they could blame for her staff, almost all bred moddies somehow unsuitable for Agency service. It wasn’t that there was anything wrong with having genetically-modified staffers. It wasn’t even that there was anything wrong with having them as your butler and maid, your cook and your groundskeeper. (There was something a little questionable about having one as one’s Consort, but the Lady’s choice and the Consort’s were sacrosanct in that matter, and absolutely nobody was going to tell Lady Enasshi that she couldn’t have a dapper, well-turned-out cat-boy as her Consort.) It was just that, in addition to the oddity of a staff that was almost entirely moddies, from the chatelaine down to the pot-boy, in a rather well-appointed household, Enasshi insisted on dressing every single one of them in beautiful and elaborate livery that wasn’t now and had never been the style in Tír na Cali.

Most Californian nobles dressed their slaves simply- khakis and shirts with the household monogram was common – saving the frou-frou and ornamentation for their companions, their butler (only sometimes) and fancy-dress parties. Visiting their houses, even the house of a Countess, was like visiting a friend. Everything was casual. With Lady Enasshi, not so much.

“I don’t know what to wear,” bemoaned the youngest daughter of the Baroness Stasia ni Ysabet. “The last time I went to a lunch at Enasshi’s, the boy trimming the weeds was better dressed than I was. And I was in couture!”

Next: http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1276560.html

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New on Patreon: Planning the Family and Down River, repost stories


☘️
For March, that month when large portions of America pretend to be Irish, I bring you my fictional family of Irish in the Americas – the Tuatha Dé Danann in Tír na Cali. This piece was originally written in August of 2011.
☘️
Ireland, 1685

The witch looked over the table at her cousin, a pretty young thing that, until now, everyone had assumed was just daft. The girl was floating the dishes in the air, all of the dishes, weaving them in and out in a series of loops that looked like a Maypole dance.
<a href=https://www.patreon.com/posts/planning-family-8337047Read on…



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This ficlet began my Vas’ World series of stories, a world-exploration featuring a small landing team of planetary explorers. It was originally posted in January, 2011.

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They followed the newly-named Yarthout River all day, their little craft handling its rapids with a smoothness and ease that surprised Vas. Wisely, he kept his surprise to himself; Malia and Ezra would be unbearable enough about their success without him acknowledging it. The boat had been their idea, after all: a quicker way to take a survey of this uninhabited planet.

Read On!

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A Patreon Repost: Lab Rat


 Repost Story: Lab Rat 

This story was written to a Mini-Giraffe Call for Transitions back in 2013.  It’s set in the furry sub-setting of Tír na Cali – "Cali Catpeople," as I usually call it and is meant to be light-hearted. 

"Engage in some scientific experimentation," the Agency guy had said. "Earn your freedom," they’d said. "Just two years in our scientific facility, and you can go free," they’d promised. 

They’d strapped Robert and Eric to tables, at which point they’d both started complaining. 

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