Tag Archive | fanfiction

Been to Middle Earth; Do you speak my language?

Okay, this is entirely because DaHob sent me the link to Talk Nerdy to Me

Woman Elf: Medium Skin Tone on Twitter Twemoji 12.0

When Nat first saw the ads shouting  “win a trip to Middle Earth,” she assumed it was just another studio amusement park, like “spend a weekend in the Wizarding World” or “Cruise on the Black Pearl.”

It wasn’t until she was lured by a clickbait article that she caught a clue as to what was really going on.

“Portal trips to other universes: are they as safe as they seem?”

It turned out that the answer was a firm no, something hammered home as Nat’s native guide physically moved her out of the way of a swinging mace and dropped her onto the back of a sturdy pony.  “Tourist gold, they said,” he muttered.  “Bringing fresh eyes and fresh treasure to Middle Earth!  Nobody said they’d be idiots without the sense to come in out of the rain!”

“Hey!”  She shifted on the pony and let it carry her away from the orcs.  “Let’s see you come to my world and see how you do in a strange place with strange dangers, hunh, Gladrin son of Gladuil?”

“Maybe I will, maybe I will,” he retorted.

“Good!  I look forward to it!”

Then, because she didn’t want to be the reason that the Ugly American trope was carried to another universe, she added, much more politely, “thank you for saving me.  Do you think, for the rest of this trip, you could perhaps show me the things that you like the best about your land?”

She thought from the expression – the beard made it hard to tell – that she’d surprised Gladrin.

“That I will, little human,” he consented.  “That I will.  And perhaps we can return you to your land intact, mmm?”

Prince of Hell?

I’ve been watching Lucifer on Netflix, and it occurred to me that he fits pretty well into Fae Apoc, powers and all, and ah, here’s an AU of his early days “on Earth,” that is, free of his previous employment…

The blonde women is Mike VanderLinden.


“Hello, Luci. I heard you got out.”

Lucifer didn’t know the gorgeous blond woman approaching him, but that she was gorgeous, called him Luci, and heard you got out told him that he didn’t want to know her, either.

“I did.” He was going to have to work on sounding more certain when he said that. Continue reading

The Fading, the Forgetting – the Remembering

This is a story of Changeling: the Dreaming, although there is very little of that setting that you need to know to read this. 

In short, at least in older versions of the setting, when changelings reach a certain point – age often helps – of banality in their lives, they fall into a stage where they forget their fae souls.  But their human bodies live on…

The temperatures were over 100F.  There was a drought on that had been going for more than a month.  The city had been in and out of water restrictions since late May, and the sun was searing down as if it was trying to bake everyone who dared to go outside.

And on a street in a neighborhood where the police always went in twos and preferably in threes, a hydrant was spraying water all over the sidewalk and the road.

Seven children from toddler age to teens were dancing in the water.  Normally, the police would chase them off, close the hydrant, and maybe make stern noises at the oldest of them.  But this time, they were dancing with two grey-haired people who were definitely old enough to arrest.

Hell, their retirements might be old enough to arrest.  Continue reading

For The Best

Dark Hermione, complicit Harry, post-books and ignoring the Epilogue.

This is mad magiscience, with most of the actual results being offscreen, but it still involves attempting to reproduce the effects of the Imperius Curse without using an Unforgivable, and it does involve human (wizard) experimentation.

And I kind of want to expand it.

Continue reading

The Isle of Time, a piece of Pratchett Fanfic

I was re-reading Thief of Time, and there is a line in there about “just dump the extra time in the ocean.” It was always wet and watery:

Oh, maybe fishermen would start to dredge up strange whiskery fish that they’d only ever seen before as fossils, but who cared what happened to a bunch of codfish.

So here is a bit about someone who might care.

There was an island in the middle of the ocean that the Monks of Time did not know of.

They didn’t know about it because it wasn’t supposed to exist for another five hundred thousand years, but it existed in a place that a particular set of Procrastinator-drivers in the halls of time particularly enjoyed, and as such, it had gotten more than its share of time manipulation.

Geography and geology are always a bit of a question when you live on a disc on the back of four elephants riding on the back of a turtle, but as far as anyone could tel, this was also a place where certain sea creatures had been going for millennia to die, and thus, between that and some activity it was best to call volcanic,  although Vulcan went by a different name here, had pointy ears, and had only once even looked at this place1, well, anyway, there was an island here.

And because shipwrecks happen everywhere and possibly more than everywhere when your ship is suddenly beset by a pre-historical2 creature or, worse yet, suddenly becomes a grove of trees and two confused elephants or a pile of mold and driftwood, this island had people, and had had people for quite some time (Probably.  Maybe.  Likely.)

Even evolution works strangely on the Disc, and so, after a while (or several whiles, depending), someone needed to do something about this aging a thousand years before one could manage to breed, or coming back before one’s grandparents had gotten around to it, and so on.

There were not a lot of people on this island, but it wasn’t on any charts, which only increased the shipwrecks (it’s a bit off putting when first your First Mate loses fifteen years of life and then there’s an island right in front of you while you’re still talking her out of a fight with the cook and the ship’s boy over Music With Rocks In It), and things continued strange around there.  Which meant that, in due (let’s be honest and say un-due) time, the people who survived there ended up being, ah, immune to time.

They could step through it, and sometimes did.  They could create elaborate looping paradoxes – and, indeed, it became an art form there: what is the most beautiful paradox that you can create?  None of this I’m-my-own-Grandpa sort of thing; on this island that was considered to go without saying, after all.  And if you wished to go and replay last Tuesday, well, go ahead.  Maybe alone, maybe with your previous self or several of them.

And while the Monks of Time did not know about this island, neither did those on the island know about the monks of time.

If they did, it is thought by those who pay attention (Mostly Sark’ck) that there were at least three consecrated mounds of dust and ash that might have some very strong words for those Monks.

1 Nobody was saying that Vulcan, or, as he was known here, Sark’ck, had anything to do with a particular green-blooded bastard in a another part of the multiverse, but he did have a habit of adopting stray myths and making them his own…

2 And in the Discworld, where someone or other had been writing down history since the time the fifth elephant landed in the Uberwald, that is saying something.

Cats Have Nine Lives

This is not fanfic for the anime Mahou Tsukai no Yome/the Ancient Magus‘ Bride, per se, but it is inspired by something in an episode, a reference to the nine lives of cats in a different angle than I’m used to seeing it. 

It’s also sort of Real People Fic.

It also involves pet death, be forewarnedAlso, I made myself cry.


Continue reading

Patreon Posts – Crossovers

This is a weird one.  Today’s Patreon Sum-up involves three stories I wrote, not to prompts, but because they appeared to me.  All crossovers of one sort or another. 


Okay, so I’m working on my outlines for Finish It nanowrimo coming up in, well, November.  And I got to the one for Facets of Dusk and I started thinking about – well, the doors they might open


“Get us someplace with medical care!” Simon shouted.

“Someplace with advanced technomagical medical care.”  Aerich’s aristocratic snarl sounded panicked.

“Someplace they’re not going to shoot at us.”  Cole’s voice was calm.  But Cole, who had Josie in his arms, also sounded serious.

Read On

I blame this on my current marathon re-read of the Sandman comics.  


On Halloween, 2011, when the walls between worlds were thinner than they had ever been, the woman called The Cat Who Walks Through Walls (because her Mentor had been fond of Robert Heinlein, in his day and in her day) left her kids with her sister, as per their arrangement, and slipped out between those world-barriers.

Read On!

Okay, I guess the theme is really talking to me this month. 

Here’s another bonus, spurred on but not really related to a line from a Popular Mechanics article I read last night: (paraphrase) “AI is going to make the Industrial Revolution look small.”


Autumn knew better than to grab the strands of the world too much around Hallowe’en.

Everything was thinner at that time, more responsive, more willing to bend and twist and open.

Read On!

Fanfiction: Diagnostic Machine

Crossover: Dr. House, Faerie Apocalypse. I cannot write Dr. Cuddy, so the third person here is a vague unnamed person.

“Dr. House, I’d like to introduce our new diagnostic machine, Melody Redfern.  Melody, Dr. House.”

“Oh, come on,”House scoffed.  “You keep trying to replace me, and you know it’s futile.. Face it,”he sneered, you’re stuck with me.  Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go stick a needle in a teenager’s spine.”

“No, House, you misunderstood.  Melody isn’t here to replace you.  She’s here to replace the ridiculously overpriced tests you keep ordering.”

“What’s she going to do?”. His gaze raked over the young woman, taking in her floral skirt and silver bracelets.  “Read their tea leaves?”

“Now that you mention it…” Melody’s voice matched her appearance: sweet and thin. Continue reading

Buffy: the Invitation (an Addergoole Crossover), Part 24

Part I
Part II
Part III
Part IV
Part V
Part VI
Part VII
Part IX
Part X
Part XI
Part XII
Part XIV
Part XV
Part XVI
Part 18
Part 19
Part 20
Part 21
Part 22

“Are you sure we should be leaving Buffy?” Willow turned to look behind them as they walked out of the gym. “She’s rarring for a fight, you know.”

“I believe that the most combat-ready members of our staff and students ought to, at the very least, be able to give her a workout,” Regine answered calmly. Far too calmly. “They will be fine. Willow, you’ve expressed an interest in Professor Valerian’s teaching, but I believe you’ll also be able to gain useful information from Professors Solomon and Pelletier.”

“Academics,” Willow squeaked. “Yes. Teachers. Yes.” When Xander glanced at her, she was blushing hotly.

“I will leave you in Laurel Valerian’s capable hands then.” The Director knocked sharply on a door; a moment later, the door swung open. “Laurel…”

“Ah, Willow. You came back. Do come on in.”

“She should talk with Reid and Shira as well. Others, as it suits you. Buffy is sparring with a selection of cy’Luca and with the cy’Doug. I imagine she will be quite a while.”

“I… nevermind.” Xander was surprised that Buffy hadn’t popped her head out of the gym yet, chirping “done!” Then again, this place had been surprising from start to finish.

“I’m sure we can find a way to pass the time. Do come in, Willow. We can discuss… academics.”
Even Xander could tell that Professor Valerian was flirting with Willow. Why wasn’t the Director saying anything? And Willow, Willow was blushing and trying not to smile.

Xander wanted to shout, “Hey. What about Oz?!” but he wasn’t feeling quite that hypocritical. He’d been ready to follow Magnolia anywhere – especially into that hot tub. He couldn’t complain if Will was feeling the same…

…even about another woman.

A woman.

A teacher. Well, he couldn’t say anything about that. Except. “Will? You’re sure she’s not a giant bug?”

“I’ll double-check, Xander.” She hugged him. “Go do what you’re doing, and try not to turn into a fish.”

Okay, he deserved that. He hugged her back a little longer than he needed to, then cleared his throat. It took effort to look the Director in the eye.

She looked – maybe – slightly interested. “It seems that things are more chaotic down in ‘Sunnydale’ than your Mentor suggested, and he suggested quite a bit of chaos.”

“Oh, yeah.” Xander shrugged. “Wacky stuff happens every week. Sometimes it’s wackier than others – see fish thing – and sometimes it’s dangerous and awful. But what are we going to do?” He shrugged. “I mean, we can’t very well just ignore it. Especially not with the Buffster being the Slayer and all. You’re taking the existence of vampires very calmly, I have to say. Is it because you have a vampire taking classes here?”

“The creatures that you call vampires are in a different category from Dysmas. Those things – I have encountered them before, in my past. They thrive near these ‘Hellmouths,’ but they can live anywhere. No.” She shook her head. “The Hellmouth itself is what concerns me. They should not be opening so soon. It is far too early.”

“Wait, what? You know about Hellmouths and your worry is that they’re early? Come on, you’re messing with me, right?”

“I assure you, young man.” Regine’s voice was firm but something about her expression looked amused. “When I ‘mess with’ you, you will most definitely notice it.”

“Right, right, don’t bother the scary lady, she can mess with me. So. Why early? Why not worry that they’re coming at all?”

She studied him. “Normally, I would say that I did not worry.” Her voice had dropped to something like a whisper. “I will do you the honor of being a little more honest with you. I have done my worrying about the gates opening. I have been worried about them for — shall we say, a very long time? — and I have prepared. But that there are mouths to other locations open in Sunnydale — that’s worrisome because it is new information, and because it is far earlier than expected.”

Xander cleared his throat, suddenly uncomfortable. “So there are more coming?”

“There are more coming. Your friend is going to find that there are warriors here with training that very nearly matches her own — because we are going to need far more than one dedicated Slayer-of-demons when the time comes.”

“No more Buffy dying!” It came out before he’d thought about it, like most of the things that came out of Xander’s mouth. He thought about slapping his hand over his mouth, but thought that probably wouldn’t go over well with this lady. “I’m serious. I don’t care how much we need more Slayers, Buffy isn’t dying again.”

“I—” She looked taken aback, oh, no. He’d taken the Director aback, and she’d realize what a bad idea it was to invite him here, and he’d have to leave Buffy and Will all to themselves in this place with the hot catgirls…

His brain was doing a Willow. Xander shook his head to clear it.

“That’s how you make a new Slayer. When one is dead, another is called. Giles didn’t tell you?”

“We are certainly not going to attempt to kill and revive your friend to see the results on ‘calling’ new ‘Slayers.’” She certainly looked tempted, though. “What I meant was simply that we needed hunters, other people who could fight. We are, ah, not run-of-the-mill, as I believe you might have already noticed.”

“Yeah, I noticed the vampire and the giant and the cat-girl and the little demon girl.”

“Little… ah. Ivette, I imagine. They were all told to keep their Masks up, but, of course, a directive like that is sometimes just seen as a challenge.”

“Masks? Wait, Professor Valerian said something like that to Magnolia. Something about ‘Mask up?”

“A Mask is, ah. Some of us are unusual-looking, as you’ve noticed. Not everyone can see that — to some people, Magnolia would look like merely a pretty girl no matter what. But with a ‘Mask,’ up, she looks like that to everyone.”

“So, uh, there could be giant bug-demons here? And I wouldn’t be able to tell?” Xander gulped. “I could do without that.”

“We have no giant bug-demons here. There are… spells that allow one to reveal such things, and I know all of those spells.” Regine’s smile was actually reassuring. Xander wondered briefly about his life, that that was what reassured him.

“Well, that’s good. I mean, as far as ‘good’ goes here.” Xander looked at the woman uncomfortably. “You’re way too calm about this whole magic thing, you know. I don’t know anyone nearly as calm as you about this stuff.”

“Eventually,” came a voice from behind Xander — no, purred a voice, a deep alto that was probably male — “you will learn that Regine is far too calm about all ‘stuff.’ And that she is not, by far, the only one.”

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1250737.html. You can comment here or there. comment count unavailable

Buffy: the Invitation (an Addergoole Crossover), Part 23

Part I
Part II
Part III
Part IV
Part V
Part VI
Part VII
Part IX
Part X
Part XI

Part XII
Part XIV
Part XV
Part XVI
Part 18
Part 19
Part 20
Part 21
Part 22

Buffy looked around the room as she and Giles entered. It could be a trap, after all. Two other exits, one to the left and one to the right. Smooth wooden floors, smooth wooden walls — padding on one wall, a stack of pads in the corner, a weapons rack in the other corner, almost as good as her training set-up back home.

Luke was there, of course, and another man who looked a lot like him, only with light-brown hair instead of Luke’s black — and a couple inches taller, with a deeper scowl. To the left, with the taller man, were three girls — one blonde, one brunette, and one with black hair — dressed in loose pants and tight shirts, with tight ponytails and very sharp smiles. They were already sizing Buffy up.

Buffy turned towards Giles and grinned her most vapid smile. “Oh goody,” she chirped. “They brought some girls for me to fight with.” Giles responded with a dry smirk.

On the other side of the room were the guys. They’d been talking to Luke but had stopped when Buffy and Giles walked in and were staring.

One of them had hair like a lion’s mane and a square jaw. He looked worried. From the look of him, Buffy was pretty certain he was more concerned he might hurt her than that she might hurt him. He got a point for being considerate and lost two for underestimating her.

He was with two others, one who was so average that she almost overlooked him completely: average height, just-skinnier-than-average build, dark hair, pale skin, well-groomed. He wasn’t bad looking, Buffy supposed, but he seemed a little too bland for her tastes; the third one was red haired and tan-skinned, with a smile that seemed a bit awkward for his mouth, too big, too toothy. He’d stopped mid-sentence.

“They’re staring,” she chirped at Giles. “It’s not nice to stare at the new girl, is it?”

“Yes, you did, Finn,” interrupted the brunette girl, with a smile that looked too lazy for her all-business posture. “You wanted to see what she’s made of, didn’t you? Or maybe just what you could make of her…”

“Pay no mine to Allyse,” the dark-haired guy continued, although he was flushed a bit. “I’m Finn cy’Luca – someone said you knew the cy’s and wherefores?”

“Yep.” Buffy grinned at him. “I’m Buffy cy’Giles, and this is Giles. Say hello, Giles.”

“Ahem, ah. Hello.” Giles waved at the gathered students.

“Pleased to meet you. I’m Finn, like I said. This here is Smitty,” he gestured to the red-head, “Richard, and the Thorne Girls, Allyse,” he nodded to the brunette, “Acacia,” the blonde, “and Massima,” the black-haired girl. “They’re cy’Doug, and that’s Doug, and you met Luke.”

“Hi, everyone. So, you’re supposed to spar with me? Like, all at once or three on one or…?”

“Easy there, midget. You sure think a lot of yourself, don’t you?” The tall blonde woman strode forward. “Tell you what. You start with Smitty there, and then work your way up to the big leagues.”

“Hey.” Smitty looked mildly offended. “Easy there, Cay.”

“Easy.” Acacia smirked at him. “Exactly.”

“Okay.” Buffy strode up to Smitty. “So, weapons or bare hands, what, are we fighting to tap-out or unconsciousness?”

“Are your eyes closed?”

“Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me three or four or five times…”

“What are you talking about?” Smitty’s voice went high when he was confused, she noted.

“Starey eyes, I vannnt to suuuuck your blaaahd?”

“Oh, you ran in to Dysmas. Nah, we all have different tricks, and that’s not mine. Come on, open your eyes. Let’s make this a fair fight.”

“Big ol’ you against ol’ me?” Buffy smiled sweetly at him. “To knock-out or tap-out?’

“Oh, let’s go with tap-out. You’ve got all these other people to fight, too.”

“Okay!” She smiled brightly at him. Was he cocky or just actually good? She’d have to give him a good work out to see. “And are we going bare-handed?”

“How about escrima sticks? You ever fought with those before?”

“These.” He reached out a hand and Finn tossed him four rattan sticks. “You sure you don’t want padding?”
Oh, he was starting to get to her. “You sure you don’t?”

“If you want to be that way. All right.” He took up a ready position on the edge of the mat. “Come at me.”

“Oh, only if you ask nicely.” Buffy got herself ready, felt the weight of the weapons, and attacked.
His style was very traditional. He waited when she dropped a stick (to see what he would do, after he’d tapped her knuckles), so she did the same when she knocked the sticks out of his hands.

And again.

And again.

Finally she stepped back and held up both sticks, not surrendering but not attacking. “You’re not bad. But I’ve got all these other people to fight, too.”

He rubbed his knuckles surreptitiously with his other hand. “You’re fast. I look forward to watching you fight the Thorne Girls.”

That, Buffy figured, had to be the three sharp-looking girls over there. She glanced at Giles, to see if he’d caught the reference.

Giles looked far too unworried. He was leaning against a wall, jacket off, so relaxed she nearly expected him to have a pack of cigarettes rolled up in his t-shirt sleeve, chatting with Doug.

Now that was interesting. Buffy would worry about that later.

“Oh, go ahead, boys,” Acacia drawled. Buffy thought it was Acacia, at least. “Tire her out.”

Buffy noted that. It was a good strategy — if you were fighting a non-BUffy sort of person. It took a lot more than some sticks to tire her out.

Richard the liony-looking one stepped forward. “How about bo staff?”

“Bo? Is that like… oh, here.” She strode over to the rack, replaced her escrima sticks, and tossed Richard the first of two bo staffs.

She checked the weight on the second on, swung it around a few times, and nodded at Richard.

He held back a lot less than Smitty had, but when she let him get a hit in, he still stepped back and didn’t pursue the opening.

“Gentlemen,” she complained, mostly to Giles. “If I were a real opponent that would get you killed in a heartbeat.”

“What,” purred the black-haired one, Massima, “are you saying you’re not a real opponent?

Buffy parried an annoyed swing from Richard and spared Massima a glance. “I’m not a — fooey, stop that,” she parried another strike, “– I mean, I’m not here to kill you and you’re not here to kill me. That’s a real opponent. This is sparring. And this is like Council sparring, all manners and—” she ducked around behind Richard to tap him on the ass with the end of her stick. “–bowing.”

“Council?” Richard just barely managed to get his stick up in time to parry her next blow. “Are they the ones that trained you? Where did you learn to hit like this?”

Buffy took a step back and jabbed her stick at his heart, stopped just before his chest and tapping very lightly. “Giles trained me. I learned to hit hitting monsters in the streets. Where did you learn to fight?”

“Here.” Luke stepped forward and took the stick from Richard. “They learned to fight here, in a controlled environment, where nobody was going to kill them. The Thornes there, that’s Massima, Acacia, and Allyse, they do monster hunting.”

“Oh, come on, Luke,” Massima complained. “Ruining the surprise.”

“I’ll pretend to be surprised if you will,” Buffy offered. She looked at Luke thoughtfully. She almost never fought someone as short as she was. “What’re we fighting with?”

He tossed her a wooden ax, balanced like a fire ax. She hefted it thoughtfully and nodded.

“I’m not going to fight like my students,” he warned her.

“I’d be disappointed if you did,” she countered. “Ready?”

“Ready. Go.”

This attack was like nothing Buffy had ever encountered. He was fast, he was strong, and he knew his shit. She’d fought elder vampires who were this fast, but they forgot what they were doing sometimes. Not since the Master…

She bounced back a step and stared at him. “Giles?” Her voice caught.

Giles voice was very calm. “He is not what you are thinking, Buffy. He is safe. He is here to test you. So, I’d suggest, pretend the Council sent him and show him what you’ve got.”

Buffy looked back to Luke. She raised her eyebrows at him. “A challenge. All right, let’s do this.”

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