Tag Archive | boom

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Originally posted  March 9th, 2011.


They were building it anew.

There hadn’t been much left after the devastation, and the city they’d lived in had been a stinking, rotten, fetid ruin. Better to leave it to the dead and dying, better to leave the diseases to work their course. Those of them who could walk, who could carry a pack, who wanted to live, had banded together and headed for the hills.

Read On

Nobody in the Fae Apoc really knows what’s going on, do they…?


The Grigori would not listen to her.

Natela was not particularly surprised.  For one, the Grigori rarely listened to anyone who was not Grigori, and although she had their blood, she was not of them, but by their standards.

Open to all Patrons!

This story takes place 50 years past the original story, nearly 40 years after the apocalypse, after the Retirement stories.


Kailani and Rozen were being followed.

Not exactly followed — more like followed-in-front-of — and not by a person or people.  Rozen would have been able to deal with people.

Open to All Patrons!

Patreon Posts!

A bonus post, because I was entertaining myself.


The series of follies – small buildings, in other situations often in formal gardens, designed to be decorative while often resembling some purpose-built building – known most commonly as The Red-Tree Follies dot the landscape in a wavering set of ovals from east to west, providing lovely places for a picnic, for an evening’s rest, or for a small wedding.

Red Tree Follies I

And II

This story is set in 1864, one year after Abe Lincoln made Thanksgiving a national holiday. Parties take time to plan, dontcha know?


Luke knew Mike had set him up the minute he walked into the party.

The way the fancy people in their expensive dresses turned to stare, the whispers that he couldn’t imagine he wasn’t supposed to hear:

Read On!

Originally posted January 3, 2012.



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.

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AU Ponderings: The Council has no Authority

Okay, this started out when I was trying to write a story for Patreon (Legends and Myths, Fae Apoc) and sort of failed, but I had this idea about the Council (the ruling body of the “Good Guys” fae, the Shenera Enderaei, the Children of the Law), inherently having no authority to do what they do.  And since I’ve played with the idea of Cloverleaf/Boom/Cya facing down the Council before…

This is set some long time after the founding of Cloverleaf, and is non-canon.


“We are here to see how well you are abiding by the regulations of the Council.  Your position as a pro facto dictator here raises a red flag in our books, and we will be here until we have passed judgement or removed you from power.”

Cya looked at the people in front of her.  She looked at the woman standing to her left.  “This is a ‘Man on the Moon’ situation,” she told the woman.

The woman nodded and vanished.  Cya smiled.  The expression was small, polite, restrained.  People who knew her the best — and only them — knew that it meant she was absolutely furious.

The space of three heartbeats passed.  “I do not acknowledge your authority to judge me,” she told the people calmly. Continue reading

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Okay, so I was playing around with a roleplay with Cal and Cynara decided to build herself a castle. Well, a play castle, this is ~8×8 with a tower; it’s a shed-sized castle. 

Read On

The poll has spoken!

The walls between the worlds are thin in October, especially as Hallowe’en approaches.  It’s easier to step between universes – or to slip and fall down a rabbit-hole you were never expecting.

This month’s theme is Crossovers –  those slips, those falls, those determined steps into another world.

Open to $5+ “To-do List” Patrons!

I mentioned a story about renovations…


The renovations started in June.

They closed on the house in October — Judy had a feeling about the place; Steve thought it had good bones — and lived with the ugly panelling, the wonky ceilings, the strange toilet all winter long.

As soon as the weather was consistently warm, down came the hideous paneling.

Read On!

Lightning in Autumn

My Giraffe (Zebra) Call is open!

Written to Inspector Caracalprompt.

Set after Addergoole Year 10 but before the 2011 apocalypse. 


There were tourists in the bar again, the sort of people that made what was normally a pleasant place feel like the back of the locker room.   Nathan felt his shoulders tensing, felt his grip on his drink getting tighter.  “Another?” he asked Patti.  

The bartender shook her head. “Not yet, son.  Nurse that ice a little longer, and then I’ll pour you another.”  Then she was gone, tending to the New People at the other end and the other regulars in between.

“Shit.”  How Patti did that and kept in business, he never knew.  He turned slowly on his stool, taking in the tourists at the pool table, the regulars at tables further and further away from the tourists, Liza the bouncer at the front door…

He turned back around in time to see Leo strutting up to the tourists and getting in the tallest one’s face.  Nathan’s heart did a little twist.  Leo.  That blonde hair, that arrogant, playful smirk, that – that body.  It wasn’t just Nathan’s heart that was twisting.

The tourist took a step back.  His friends were jeering.  Leo didn’t seem to notice, stepping back in to the tourist’s personal space, running a hand over the man’s cheek.  Nathan felt a stab of jealousy.  My cheek is right here!

“There’s a reason they call him Lightning, you know.”  

He hasn’t heard anyone sit down next to him, but now there was someone there, sipping a drink and watching the same scene Nathan was.  “I’ve never heard anyone call him that.”

“Yeah?”  The guy was, unfortunately, undeterred.  “They call him Lightning because he never strikes the same place – or the same person – twice.”

“I’m not the same person.”  Nathan chewed on his ice and watched Leo work.  He was louder than he normally was, and he seemed to be – from the words that wafted over the music and the conversation – suggesting that the tourist ought to come back to his place and show him exactly what his sort was worth.

“It doesn’t matter if you’ve changed,” the peanut gallery continued.  “He doesn’t care.  He just hits once and he’s gone.”

Nathan glanced over. His helpful new friend looked, in a  general sense, kind of similar to Nathan: dark hair, dark eyes, not all that tall.  “Not what I meant – ooooh!”  Leo had somehow ducked a punch the now-beset tourist had thrown and instead tossed the tourist on to the floor.  “You saw it, Patti, you saw it!  The asshole threw the first punch!”

“That’s not gonna save my furniture, now is it?  Liza!”

The fight was in full swing, as it were, when Liza waded in and hauled the tourist out of it, and then hauled his friends out.  “Parking lot!  All of you! You, too!”  She glared at Leo.  It might have been Nathan’s imagination, but he thought Leo looked a little sheepish for a moment.

They allowed themselves to be herded – tourists, Leo, two other regulars who had gotten involved – out past the pile of broken furniture they’d left in their wake and through the side door, but the swinging door showed the tourist spinning around with a punch the minute his feet hit the asphalt.

“Looks like he’s going to hit someone more than once,” Nathan muttered, not particularly generously.

“Ha.  Good one.  Yeah, he’s plenty violent, isn’t he?  But he don’t come back, kid.  Like I said.  Never the same person twice.”

“But I’m not the -”  Nathan gave up.  He didn’t want to explain to this stranger.  Hell, he didn’t even want to explain to Leo, who would probably scoff and walk away, no matter how different this could be, Nathan could be.

The front door swung again and a redheaded woman walked in.  Another tourist, Nathan thought, noting the dyed-crimson of her hair and the clothes that wouldn’t have fit in here even if she were male.  Then she kissed Liza with an intensity that suggested comfortable familiarity and an intimacy that said maybe she wasn’t all that out of place in a gay bar after all and plopped herself down at the bar next to Nathan’s new buddy.

“Telling the same old lies, Trev?” she teased.  “Don’t listen to him, kid, whatever he says.  Patti, my love.  The usual and one of whatever these nice boys are having for them, too.”

Maybe that was supposed to cover exactly HOW big the wad of money she was passing over the counter was, or how two of those top bills would probably cover the furniture damages.  

“They’re not lies, and anyway, how would you know?  You’re not exactly his type!”  Trev – if that was New Friend’s name – looked put out.  The woman just laughed.

“I know because I know Leo.  And I know you.  Like I know I’m not your type but I might… sometimes… be this guy’s type.”  She sipped her whisky – neat – and grinned at them, a grin that looked more hungry than cheerful and, Nathan had a feeling, was covering over a seething kettle of pain.  

She saw through him, he knew that much.  “Doesn’t matter.  Lightning never strikes the same place twice.”  He finished the drink Patti passed him in one gulp and laid his money on the counter.  “I gotta go.”

The redhead’s voice followed him out the door. “Don’t believe that old lie, kid.  Lightning strikes wherever he damn well pleases.”


See stories about Leofric/Leo (that have been migrated) here.

See stories about Cya(the redheaded woman) here.


Want more?

Family Ties – a Drabble of Cynara

See Also Plans
Let’s see, Math.
Cya starts year 6, 2000 AD
Yoshi starts Year 24, 2018 AD
The White Stag grandson starts… year 41? We’ll say 41, 2035
The next one is year 60, great-grandson, 2056
So call this 2064.

There were two people at Iasthai’s front door: a woman with a red streak through chocolate-brown hair and a very skinny man with hair so blonde it was nearly white. They weren’t part of the neighborhood, that much Iasthai knew; it was a small enough, isolated enough village that she knew all her neighbors — and they were clean and well-dressed like Addergoole people, but they weren’t anyone Iasthai recognized from there either.

The woman looked familiar, but Iasthai couldn’t quite place where or why.

“Iasthai?” She asked like it was a formality.

“That’s me,” she agreed carefully.

“I’m Cya Dayton, called Doomsday, and this is Charno, called Speedforce.”

“Ah? I see?” Oh… Oh! She took a step backwards.

“I swear to you, I come here meaning no harm to you or yours.”

Iasthai relaxed slowly. “How can I help you?”

“I’m hoping we can help each other.” She didn’t ask to come in; Iasthai appreciated it.

“How’s that?” she asked, carefully. One didn’t want to offend Red Doomsday.

“I like to keep track of my kin, to help them out. Unfortunately for that urge, my line tends towards boys.”

Iasthai glanced unwillingly to the back of her cottage, where her sons were playing. “…And?”

“And I’m willing to offer you and your household a home in Cloverleaf, five years’ living expenses, and pre-Addergoole education for all of your children if you will agree to allow me visitation with my grand— hrrm… great-great-grandson,” she murmured that part even quieter than the rest of her speech.

“You, not his father?”

“His deals are his own.”

“He — he said you suggested me.” She found her shoulders tightening.

“Ah, well, it’s harder and harder to find those that aren’t related to us or to Boom as a whole, the more generations go to Addergoole.”

“So you could find him for me?”

The woman smiled slowly. “As long as you agreed that you meant him no permanent harm and would Keep him no more than, say… four years.”

“You’d agree to that?” What kind of grandmother was she?

“My grands make their own mistakes. Besides, it might allow him to know his sons, and that would do him good.”

“Sons?” Iasthai asked, despite herself.

The woman’s smile grew to something sharp and amused. “I already negotiated with his first-year Keeper.”

Iasthai looked back at her tiny cottage. She took a breath. It wasn’t a great place, but they’d accepted her with no questions and liked her medical ability. “I’ll do it. WIth those caveats. Come back in… a week, if you can, and we’ll be ready to go.”

“I’ll see you in a week. Thank you, Iasthai.”

A house, a stipend, and her first-year Keeper tracked down for her. And Red Doomsday acted like Iasthai was doing her a favor. “You’re quite welcome, sa’Doomsday.”

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Red Thorns – doomsday/cloverleaf

In Cloverleaf, they don’t kill their attackers if they can avoid it; they make future assets out of them. Here’s a flash of that.

“Look, it’s not like Cloverleaf actually kills anyone.” Hecherak had coaxed. “They’re weaklings. We’ll be in, out, steal a few sheep, maybe some… ha, cattle, and then we’ll be back. Good practice for a real raid, no trouble, and we won’t really be risking anything.”

At the moment, Tekliek was having trouble discerning the fine points of difference between death and his current situation: that was, impaled with three hawthorn stakes that had been sent into him with surgical precision, missing anything he actually needed to survive. Death hurt less, he was pretty sure.

Death might involve a beautiful redheaded halfbreed straddling him.

“Here’s the situation,” she began, and Tekliek passed out.

When he came to, his hands were chained above his head, his feet were chained to something, and he was in the sun. He was no longer pierced through with anything, but from the burning, he could tell he was cuffed with hawthorn.

The half-breed woman was there again. “Here’s the deal,” she began again. “You are going to swear to not attack Cloverleaf for five years or anyplace flying the cloverleaf circles for three years, to not enter Cloverleaf during that time without the freely-given signed permission of the gate guards, and to leave Cloverleaf trade caravans alone for ten years. Then I’m going to mark you with my thorn, and what that means is that the next time I see you, you will do one favor for me. It won’t kill you, your children, or any Students you might have and it will not bring harm to any children still in your care or students the same. Understood?”

Tekliek nodded slowly. “Under-ah!” She had pressed her fingers into his skin, just under his collarbone on his right side. When he looked down, there was a thorn marked in red ochre.

“Good. Someone will be along to take your oath in a moment.” She moved down the line, repeating her speech. To one side of Tekliek was Poesl, from their clan; to the other side was his friend Fijsk. Past Fijsk was Hecherak, and the red-headed halfbreed was straddling her now, ready to mark her.

“Oh, not your first time, is it? Third. And I see you still owe me for the last time.”

Tekliek shared a look with Fijsk. They looked over at Poesl, shook their heads, and looked back at each other.

With their new tattoos burning on their shoulders and their new oaths fitting like cages, they waited patiently at the gates of Cloverleaf for the guards to acknowledge them. There was never going to be a better time or a better reason to slip Hecherak’s leash.

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Throwing Things – more of the Cya Carew Story

Directly after Rocks

She took his hand, because she needed to reassure herself that he really was fine. “I don’t-” she started, and fell quiet. There were too many ways to end that sentence and she didn’t like any of them.

He glanced over at her, and she recognized the expression, even if he looked nothing like Cabal, nothing like Gaheris. “I got it.” He was quiet for a minute, as she led him out of Leo’s house and down the quiet neighborhood street. “You don’ like, uh. Being emotive.”

She snorted, laughing at herself, at his phrasing, at the whole mess. “Let’s be honest,” she said, dryly and more openly than she usually was with her Kept. “I don’t like having emotions. But Leo – thinks that’s a mess, and Dr. Rexinger agrees, and if I’m going to be entirely honest, if one of my Kept told me they didn’t like having emotions, I’d spend the whole year helping them work through that. So I try to have emotions. But I don’t -”

“How long?” he asked, when she had found no words to finish that I don’t…

“Not feeling? Trying not to feel? Decades. A long time. Since after school.” Since after school. Since she learned that she couldn’t help Leo with Eriko, and that showing emotion around that crew, her Keeper’s crew, was an admission of weakness and an invitation to correction.

Cya didn’t like being wrong. She hadn’t liked being wrong, being corrected, as a teenager, a lifetime ago.

“That’s a long time,” he said, and for a child of twenty-three, that sentence in and of itself was a fair assessment. Then he looked up at her, looking worried. “That’s a really long time to be pretending you weren’t angry.”

She looked away. “When – when I let Leo know, sometimes it messed with him. When he was really crazy, it could send him away, either actually or just make the conversation get lost. So I stopped, well, I stopped feeling it, so I didn’t send him off into the deep end.”

“But he’s been sane for a while, didn’t you say?” He sounded a little uncertain, like he didn’t want to push and yet thought he ought to. She couldn’t blame him for that one.

“He’s been better for quite a while. But then, well. I had to get better.” She laughed, although it had no humor. “Habits, I’m all about habits. I get messed up when those get shaken, you know?”

“I-” He didn’t sound like he knew. She couldn’t fault him for that, either.

“…I stopped feeling it, and then I forgot I could again, and by that time, I’d stopped feeling things as much as I could.”

“But now you’re learning how to feel again?” he guessed.

“Yeah.” She looked over at him. In the dim light of the streetlights, his face looked like it could be anyone’s. That made this all the weirder, like she was talking to generations of her Kept. No, she reminded herself firmly, just one. Carew. We’re here, today, and that’s it. “Now,” she tried the words on for size, “I’m letting myself feel. And it’s-”

“Weird,” he offered. “Like learning a skill. Did you tell me,” he offered, “something about learning a new skill every decade? And all the messed-up pots and twisted ankles and bad phrases in Russian nobody ever sees?”

“…I did.” Every once in a while, one of her Kept actually paid attention. “Yeah.”

“So,” he offered, “this is a skill, right? Like, uh. Like teaching Jeska how to exist around humans, and how to have leisure time? Something that’s gonna come with some trial-and-error?”

“..Yeah.” She nodded slowly. It stood to reason that the Kept who’d befriended a former Nedetaka might know about learning skills most people took for granted.”Yeah, I guess it is a skill. But, k- Puppy, Carew, when I mess up throwing a pot it doesn’t send you fleeing to Leo’s.”

“Well,” he offered, with a crooked smile that looked too much like one she sometimes glimpsed in the mirror, “if I thought Leo – sa – Lightning – you know – if I thought he’d come talk you down from messing up pots, I might.”

She hugged him, because he was a clever boy, and she was going to miss him when his year was up. “Thanks, puppy,” she whispered. They both ignored the way his tail wagged happily at that.

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Rocks – a Cya/Carew story

Cya and Carew, Carew’s POV – what happens when Cya starts feeling things she’s been repressing.

He could have gone to his crew.

They were here, now. Cya had Found them and offered them a ticket to Cloverleaf via her teleporter, and, much to Carew’s relief and occasional confusion, they’d all agreed.

(He’d spent six months wondering why they hadn’t come to find him when he graduated, only to find out that they had, just the day after he’d left, and nobody they’d asked had known that Cya had taken him.)

But he didn’t want them to get the wrong impression and, besides, this was the second time, and he was sort of hoping someone would do something, so when Cya started throwing things – pebbles, rocks, stones – at the wall, he’d slipped out the back door and run to Leo’s house again.

Leo had gotten a strange look on his face and left. Carew had settled in to teach Jeska some more card games and anything else that could keep his mind off of my Keeper is throwing shit at the walls.

She was in therapy. She was supposed to be getting better. She seemed to be getting… more emotive. He thought that was supposed to be better. Most days it was better.

Not today.

She came back a couple hours later, walking in with Leo. Her face was red; she’d been crying. Of course she’d been crying. But she looked like she was over the bad part.

“Hey.” She sat down next to him and held out a hand.

He took it without thinking, then wondered if it was a good idea. What if he’d done something wrong?

She never hurt him (except in the good way), even when he messed up, which did happen on occasion. But sometimes she could be scary anyway.

“I’m sorry. I’m getting used to having emotions again – I did a really good job of making them go away for a really long time – and, uh. I’m feeling things I’d forgotten about. But that doesn’t mean I should make you suffer for it.”

A really long time. Carew looked at her cautiously. She was older than the end of the world.

“So, uh,” he hazarded a guess, “things from Addergoole?”

“Things from Addergoole,” she admitted. “Want to come home so I can make it up to you?”

“Wait, it’s a choice?” He regretted the words the moment he’d said them, but she didn’t look offended.

“Tonight, it’s a choice.” She leaned in and kissed his cheek. “It’s not like I don’t know I messed up.”

“No,” he shook his head, then hurried to finish the sentence. “You didn’t mess up, boss. But I won’t mind some making up, anyway.”

Next: http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1301532.html

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Oh, it’s Autumn. (A piece involving Cya, Carew, and Leo) (Still Sword/Lady timeline)

This involves sidelong descriptions of really rough sex.

“That… was different. He was different.”

Cya had come home scraped, bruised, and smiling, wearing different clothing than she’d left in, leaning on Leofric as if she might actually need the support. The smile was a particularly lazy, pleased version of her sated expression.

Carew knew her sated expression. He’d put it on her face more than a few times — especially in the last few weeks. Not like that, though, and not with bruises like that, either.

She’d handed him a pile of clothing, her expression turning slightly-abashed. While she’d dished out the casserole she had waiting — because she was Cya, and she almost always had something waiting — Carew had unfolded the clothing.

Every single piece was cut, like it had been sliced off of her.

No question why she’d given him the clothes, then. Carew wiggled his nose and the clothing came back together. If being a mechanic didn’t work out, he thought, not for the first time, he had a good future as a house-elf.

After that… after that he’d been looking at his Keeper’s bruises with a combination of jealousy and wistfulness. He wanted to have put that expression on her face. He wanted someone to put marks like that on him. Even at her roughest, Cya never marked him thatmuch.

“Leo,” Cya had said with cheerfully sharp edges, “you probably shouldn’t tease my Kept if you’re not willing to bruise him all up, too.”

He hadn’t been expecting that. He hadn’t been expecting Leo’s expression, the one that made Carew wonder for a moment exactly which one of them had the predator Change and which had the prey Change.

Hard to miss those antlers, though. Hard not to think of what those antlers could do to you.

Now… now he was having other thoughts about predators and prey. He sprawled across the bed, pressing his knee gently to Cya so he could stay in contact with her. He was bruised, scraped, aching, and absolutely sated. “That was…” he repeated, but he had no words for what it was.

“Autumn,” Cya filled in, in a voice that sounded like he felt. She’d watched. She’d watched the whole thing, and Carew’d had absolutely no doubt she was loving every minute. “That was autumn and Leo. Buck,” she added, as if somehow Carew had missed that. “But I wouldn’t mention that part to him. I don’t think he likes it.”

Carew considered that for a moment. “He looked like he was having fun?” he offered cautiously.
“He did, didn’t he? Mmm. Don’t proposition him on your own.”

He already had fidelity orders. He was also not suicidal. “Yes, ma’am.”

“But if you liked it—”

“Yes, ma’am!”

“-then I’ll see if he wants to have another round before autumn’s over.” She considered things thoughtfully. “Not for a couple days, though.”

Carew stretched, feeling every bruise and scrape. “Not for a couple days,” he agreed.

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