Archive | December 2016

Helping a Friend Out, Part One

Addergoole-verse, Early 2012 (in the middle of the Apocalypse)
I was thinking about Luke during the apoc, his oaths, and… his friends

Agmund Fridmar was, of course, not unaware that his cy’ree, his Students, and those called cy’Luca, Luke Hawk’s Students, were in a bit of a cy’ree battle, and had been since there were more than three of them to glare at each other across the Dining Hall.

But his Students’ animosity toward Luke’s Students – and, sometimes, he supposed, towards the man himself – did not mean that Agmund had to feel anything of the sort, nor did the cy’Luca’s animosity towards cy’Fridmar and towards Agmund mean that he couldn’t help out Luke in a tough spot.

And the fact of the matter was, Luke was in a tough spot right now, although he would probably have preferred that Agmund and the other professors didn’t take notice. There was a war raging – or, at least, there were dozens and dozens of battles raging, and if you shook them all out, you could see two or three sides that were relatively consistent. There were cy’Luca, former cy’Luca but still the same wide-eyed, eager Warriors for Good, out there fighting against ancient would-be gods. They were losing, on average, but there were doing far more good than one might imagine they would have, and their wins were spectacular.

They were, however, dying, slowly and quickly, in singles and en masse, and Luke was trapped here, in Addergoole, staring at the walls and pacing like a caged tiger. Regine had him wrapped up in orders, and she had no sympathy nor concern, it seemed, for all of those cy’Luca out there dying in a battle she herself had seen coming, had planned for, had engineered them conceived for.

Agmund had his own oaths, but Agmund had always been better with words then Luke, their ins and outs, particularly their outs. His oaths left him a lot more room, and today, the room he was taking from them was a field trip of sorts.

This particular cy’Luca had no fondness at all for him. Dominic, the Shifting Shield. His demonic-looking Change — purple skin with black points, horns, claws — had led the cy’Fridmar during his time to try to recruit him, aggressively. But he’d always been cy’Luca material, and he’d gone to the winged White Knight side in earnest.

Tonight, he was going up against three Nedetakaei who were taking over a neighborhood under the aegis of a chaotic would-be god who’d taken over a northern city, and Agmund had reason to believe his expected back-up wouldn’t be showing up. One of them was dead, one of them had gotten captured, and the third one had been lying.

Agmund walked up to the young man. He didn’t bother to try to be sneaky. He was not here to test Shifting-Shield; he was here to aid him.

“They’re not coming,” he said, before Shifting-Shield could say anything. “So I am here. Stand down,” he added, and let his accent thicken. They did believe him more when he sounded like a bad Russian Boris and Natasha imitation. “Am here for backup, not to fight you.” He gave his best scolding-professor expression. “Nedetakaei is the enemy, da, not me?”

The boy relaxed and bristled at the same time, shifting from ready for a battle to ready for an argument. It was good he knew the difference. “Yeah. The Neds are the enemy, yeah.”

“Very good. Now tell me what we’ve got.”

Part II: http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1215458.html

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1211109.html. You can comment here or there. comment count unavailable

Landing Page: Black Knight (Chess) AU

A double-crack alternate universe in which Leo gets an army and then takes over the northwest.

[personal profile] inventrix: Only a Flesh Wound
Black Knight
[personal profile] inventrix: House Arrest
White Queen
White Knight
Red Queen
Domination
Captured Knight
Captured Knight continued
[personal profile] inventrix: Keeping Up Appearances
[personal profile] inventrix: Reversal
[personal profile] inventrix: All According to Plan…?
Chessboard
Other Pieces
Chessmaster
Knocking Over Pieces
[personal profile] inventrix: Uncomfortable Developments
Leash
No Title
Movement
Phase II (and a bonus intro to something later)
[personal profile] inventrix: Chain of Command
Blonde Bishop
[personal profile] inventrix: (no subject)
Flight
Punished
Flightless

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1202628.html. You can comment here or there. comment count unavailable

Flightless

After Punished
Landing Page: http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1202628.html

“Stay here.” Cya walked into another room, only to come back a few moments later, carrying… what looked like sheets of leather and a few buckles. Luke frowned.

“Can you Make things or shape them more easily?”

“Shape, usually.” He looked at the leather in concern. “What am I shaping?”

She ran her hand over a very thin slice of wood and muttered a Working. When she was done, there was a technical drawing in black – char? – on the light wood sheet. “This.”

Luke studied it for a moment. His wings flared out in protest, knocking something off an end table and catching a throw pillow with his bottom wing-claw. “This is for me.”

“It’s for you.”

He picked up the pillow and muttered a Repair Working on it to give himself a moment to think. It was a harness. It was designed for wings like his – designed for his wings in particular, he’d bet – and, when it was buckled on, he wouldn’t be able to get it off without a Working, because the buckles were behind his wings.

It didn’t look like it was meant to be tight, except the cross straps across his chest and down both sides of his back, and the two brace pieces above and below his wing-joins. It was just two loops – one over the top of his wings, one around the bottom of them – that meant he’d have very little range of movement. It wouldn’t be quite like when she’d wrapped him in rope, but it would definitely keep him from flying.

And if it wasn’t rope, he had a feeling she meant him to wear it out. In public.

“Make the leather as close to your wing color as you can. I’ll do the buckles. If we do this right, it should very nearly blend in with your wings.”

He wasn’t sure if that was better or not. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Do I need to order you to do it?”

Did she need to? Luke looked at the plan. She wanted him to do it. She wanted him to make his own restraints. He could do it.

He looked up at her. She knew what she was doing. She knew, damn her. “Yeah.” His voice creaked. He didn’t care. “Make it an order.”

He knew it came out like challenge. If she was someone like his students, the look on his face probably would have led directly to a fight. He could use that right now, the violence, the exercise.

He wasn’t going to get it from her, and he was pretty sure he wasn’t allowed to get it from Leo.

She saw it in his expression, he knew she did. She did, and all she did was raise her eyebrows and smirk at him. “This drawing, Luca. Create the harness illustrated thus to fit you. Now,” she added, when he hesitated.

It wasn’t a real hesitation, he wanted to say, but the now took away any pretense that it wasn’t an order and he found himself doing Workings before he’d really thought about about what he was doing.

He didn’t like Working without forethought, and a low whine came out between Words. Damnit. Now she was going to think he was whining about having to make the harness.

You were the one that told her to make it an order, genius.

He twitched his wings at himself and looked at the harness he’d half-created. Another set of Workings made the leather the same color – and nearly the same texture – as his wings, but pretending it wasn’t there was going to be a lost cause. Everyone would be able to see it.

He looked over the thing one more time and made a couple more adjustments, a couple short changes, and, because he was feeling difficult, an embossed pattern on the front of the harness. Cya passed him buckles – each of them exactly the color of the leather – and he Worked them into the thing according to her blueprint.

Mike liked metaphors. He was pretty sure Mike taught at least one book about “forging your own chains.” He wondered what Mike would think about this.

“Good,” she murmured. “Now kneel, so I can put it on you.”

Luke let the order push him so he didn’t have to think about what was going on. He wished, for the first time he could remember wanting an order, that she’d tell him to hold still, too.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1210583.html. You can comment here or there. comment count unavailable

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


Part I: http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1096503.html
Part II: http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1100922.html
Part III: http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1104619.html#cutid1
Part IV: http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1108537.html
Part V: http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1112216.html
Part VI: http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1124762.html
Part VII: http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1134781.html
Part VIII: http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1139412.html
Part IX: http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1146552.html
Part X: http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1155478.html
Part XI: http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1164418.html
Part XII: http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1173922.html
Part XIII: http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1178885.html
Part XIV: http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1182860.html
Part XV: http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1186127.html
Part XVI: http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1189171.html

“Um.” Xander cleared his throat. “Normally I’m all for vampire slayage, but I should just point out, she’s the Vampire Slayer. Tougher than normal, faster than normal, strong enough to leap… well, mausoleums in a single bound. She’s going to kill him. Correction: she is going to drive a wooden stake through his heart. And if that doesn’t kill him, she is going to probably take his head off. Taking heads off destroys most creatures,” he added with a shrug. “The ones that that doesn’t work for, well, once we had to steal a rocket launcher. Borrow,” he added hastily. “Borrow! The point is, if you don’t want Buffy decapitating this guy- hurry.”

Professor Valerian was staring at him. “You… she… what kind of world do you children live in?”

“Sunnydale,” Willow offered. “Although I don’t think, technically, we count as children anymore. Legally, sure, but I think around your second or third vampire or demon kill, you really stop being a child. And that means – oh, no, just hurry. We have to stop her in case he’s not really a vampire, although,” she caught her breath, grabbed Xander’s hand, and started running. “You know,” she called over her shoulder, as the professor and Magnolia took a moment to process that they were running, “if that makes you not a child, by that standard, Buffy is, like… Methuselah. Or maybe Methuselah’s older brother? Sister, obviously. I mean, really.”

“…Sunnydale.” The professor had caught up and was passing them by; Magnolia was keeping up with them. “That does explain a lot. I wonder why we weren’t warned?”

“Maybe nobody noticed? There’s a lot of nobody-notices going on with Sunnydale.”

“There’s a lot of… what?” The professor almost stopped. Willow and Xander did not. “What did you mean by that?”

“Talk later stop now.” The shout from around the corner made it look like they might already be too late. Buffy was making the little grunting noises she didn’t know she made, the ones that meant she was actually getting a work-out. “Oh, no, there aren’t actually for real monsters, demons, here, are there? Because I didn’t bring any of my kit.”

“Face it, our kit just keeps us from getting killed, Will.” Xander had gotten in a lot better shape this summer; he wasn’t even panting.

“Well, that’s a good place to start, don’t you think?” she snapped. “I like not getting killed. Us not getting ourselves killed, that gives Buffy less to focus on, and that’s good, too. Right?”

He held up his hands, tripped, caught himself on something, noticed that the something was someone, and fell quiet. Willow did, too. The something – someone – was a tiny blonde girl with perfect curls, an outfit out off the cover of Seventeen Magazine’s “All Pink All the Time” issue, and the nastiest smile Willow had seen outside of the Cordettes.

“Oh, did I get in your way?” she asked, as sweetly as one could offer to eviscerate someone.

“Oh, No, I got in my own way. Nice to meet you-”

The girl had already stopped paying attention. “Professor Valerian! This new girl is causing trouble.”

“Aggie,” Professor Valerian muttered. “Why am I not surprised?”

Willow didn’t care. She moved around the short girl and around the corner. Buffy was in trouble, or Buffy was going to get in trouble, and either way… “Oh. Oh my, you’re tall.”

Buffy was in a hand-to-hand fight with two people. One of them looked more like a Transylvanian reject than any Sunnydale vamp. The other was just ridiculously tall. And big. And Buffy was winning – but only just barely. She had her eyes closed, and she was doing a lot of throat shots, which in the case of the giant were spinning jump shots.

“Wow.” Xander leaned against a wall. “Watch her go.” He whispered; he probably didn’t need to. Buffy was pouring everything she had into the fight.

“I know,” the blonde complained. “She’s been at this for nearly a minute. When do you think she’ll give up and realize that she’s outnumbered and outgunned?”

“What, the Buffster?” Xander shook his head. “Not going to happen. And, besides, she’s not outnumbered anymore. I see three of you, three of us. So, what kind of demon are you?”

“I beg your pardon!” she huffed.

“Well, okay, you can beg if you want, but the question still stands. Because you’re cute and you’re talking to me, and that almost always means demon. Or bug-monster. Or hyena-creature, but that was pretty demonic…”

Next: http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1220972.html

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1210168.html. You can comment here or there. comment count unavailable

Through the Portal – an incomplete catgirl invasion for Patreon

Last month had a lot of not-quite-there stories, things that seemed good at first but didn’t quite work. While we’re gearing up for December’s prompt call, here’s the first of those “almosts” – thanks to DaHob. 
🚀

The invasion happened overnight (as far as the Americas were concerned, at least).  The portals opened, circles of blue light no bigger than a porthole, in bedrooms and offices and stores and streets around the world, and then they closed again, just as the sensors were starting to detect them.

There were witnesses, of course; even in places where it was midnight, not everyone was sleeping, and in places where it was daylight, the portals opened in very public places.  All of them told the same story: Continue reading

Through the Portal – an incomplete catgirl invasion – for all to read on Patreon

The invasion happened overnight (as far as the Americas were concerned, at least). The portals opened, circles of blue light no bigger than a porthole, in bedrooms and offices and stores and streets around the world, and then they closed again, just as the sensors were starting to detect them, closed again.

There were witnesses, of course; even in places where it was midnight, not everyone was sleeping, and in places where it was daylight, the portals opened in very public places. All of them told the same story:

read on…

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1209824.html. You can comment here or there. comment count unavailable

Lady Taisiya’s 4th Husband, Chapter 12: Aftermath – a fantasy/romance fdomme story

Find Chapter 1 here
Chapter 2 is here
Chapter 3 is here
Chapter 4 is here
Chapter 5 is here
Chapter 6 is here
Chapter 7 is here.
Chapter 8: here
Chapter 9: here
Chapter 10: here
Chapter 11 (R-Rated) here

You can skip Chapter 11 without losing the plot.

She lay sprawled on top of him, her hair trailing over his chest, her breath chill on his skin, her hand pressing down on his arm as if holding him there, as if he could or would move. “Oh, my darling,” she murmured, “you are a lovely husband. Thank you.”

He cleared his throat, searching for words, and could only manage “Thank you, my lady,” in return. “Thank you,” he repeated fervently. He wanted to stroke her hair. His hands were still where she’d told him to put them, still behind his head. He twitched a little but left his hands where they were.

“I think I’m very lucky indeed to have married you.” She stroked his hair as if reading his mind. “And I think I’m going to enjoy having you to myself quite a bit.”

Sefton blushed. “Thank you,” he said, again, and then, because he felt like he had to say something else, “I think I’m lucky, too.”

“I’m glad. I hope you still feel that way in a while. I hope…” she chuckled, “you still feel that way when we’re old.”

Her oldest son had gone to school with him. Still. He looked down at her. “You’re never going to be old.”

“I will. We all will, some day. Now…” A sound like thunder rumbling cut her off. She sat up as if she had not been half-asleep a moment ago. “Feltian, get to the nursery. You know what to do.”

“But…” He was already standing, and cut himself off before she could. “Yes, my lady wife. Be safe and be honorable.”

“Be safe.” She took his face in both hands and kissed his forehead. “And protect the children.”

Sefton swallowed. “Yes, ma’am.” He hurried back to the husbands’ wing, realizing only when he reached the nursery that he was both still naked and still damp from sex.

Luckily, Onter had thought of that. He passed Sefton in the hall, pressing a robe into his chained hands. “Be safe.”

“Safe and honorable,” Sefton muttered. The robe was split on the sides, letting him slide it on over the chains. He slid it on as Jaco opened the door to the nursery.

“Ready to wait in boredom?” Jaco grinned unrepentantly.

“No,” Sefton grumbled. “But I’ll do it.” He belted his robe, noting as he did that Taisiya hadn’t taken the time to chain him back to his waist-belt. Well, now wasn’t the time to bother someone. “Does this happen… well, often?”

“Maybe once every month.” Hothyan stepped forward, stance aggressive. “And here we are, hiding in the nursery.”

“Yeah.” Jaco took Hothyan’s shoulder and steered him back into the nursery. “Here we are, safe in the nursery, protecting the egglings. Have you counted?”

“Conderie’s looking for Lorthie, everyone else is here. Counted noses twice and I’ve been in the doorway since.”

“Good, good. How long’s Conderie been gone?”

“Just a minute. Lorthie darted off. You know how she is.”

“I do.” Jaco frowned. “All right, we have another couple minutes before we absolutely have to shut the door.” He sat in the chair next to the doorway where Hothyan clearly had been waiting. “I’ve got the door, you show junior here how we do things.”

“Why? They don’t have a nursery where he came from?”

“Because I said so. And I’m still an adult here, and, since you’re not all that eager for your chains, you’re still a kid. Show Feltian around. And stop blaming him for Isham. It’s not his fault.”

“Poor substitute, if you ask me,” Hothyan muttered.

“Nobody asked you. Go on, Hoth. Feltian, don’t mind him.”

“He’s right.” Sefton shrugged. “I’m certainly no Isham. Come on, Hothyan, show me around? I can’t replace Isham, I’m not going to try, but I can help defend the egglings.”

Hothyhan eyed him cautiously, as if looking for the trap. Sefton didn’t blame him; he’d have been doing the same in the kid’s shoes. He smiled a little, friendly, open, and hoped Hothyan didn’t focus too much on the fact that he was wearing a loose robe and still smelled like Taisiya.

There were some things the books didn’t warn you about or prepare you for, but Sefton remembered well enough when his mother’s youngest husband had come into the nursery, cheeks flushed and trying to hide the slightly-dazed grin.

Now was not the time to think about that; there was an attack going on. “What do we have for defenses in here?”

Hothyan hesitated another beat before nodding, as if to himself. “Right. Defense now, fight later,” he muttered. “There’s the doors, of course. They’re, I think they’re standard? Thick, reinforced, from the outside they look like an ordinary door? There’s one that looks like a vault door on the other side of the wing, and that usually distracts them for a while. Then here,” he walked through the nursery, navigating fallen toys and younger siblings. “Kiba, pick up those blocks and put them away. Lopthin, get the play kitchen tidy. Come on, we don’t want the new dad to think we’re slobs, do we?”

Kiba and Lopthin looked up at Sefton, eyeing him as if considering how much they cared about his opinions. Hothyan cleared his throat, and both boys hurried to do as they’d been told.

“You have them well in hand,” Sefton murmured.

“They’re good kids,” Hothyan countered. “They know what they ought to do, but at that age, the ‘oughts’ are often outweighed by the ‘wants’.” He glared up at Sefton, challenging him to question his little brothers.

Sefton was not stupid. “As it should be. They have years before husbandly responsibilities will be a question. Defenses?”

“Over here.” He opened a cupboard – the complex handle was out of small children’s reach, and, while that wouldn’t stop a determined enough child, it was also in line of sight of the main nursery. He folded open the doors. “This is our defense armory.”

Sefton hissed. There were weapons enough in there for a branch of the army – perhaps for the entire army. There were the nasty bladed long-poles preferred by the cavalry, the very short knives preferred by some of the infantry, two spiked maces, five blowguns and all their darts, and even three pistols, their ammunition stacked below them.

Seften had been trained in the use of all of those except the maces. He took a medium-length knife and a short blade and strapped their sheath-belts around his waist, feeling a little silly in bathrobe and weapons and more than a little naughty. Husbands did not fight. That was the whole point of husbands, of chains, of the husbands’ wing. And here he was, arming himself as he had been trained for, as he had been taught and then told never to do.

With luck, they would have a short and boring wait, and life would go back to that thing that was becoming normal very quickly.

Next: http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1213581.html

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This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1209356.html. You can comment here or there. comment count unavailable

Punished (more Chess/Black Knight AU)

After Flight
~
Luke flew back slower than he’d flown out. Gwen paced him again, but flew quietly, save for a brief conversation she had with her radio.

Luke resisted the urge to show off, to engage in aerial horseplay with her, to race. She was on a mission, and he —

well, he was probably in a lot of trouble, which he had to admit was a strange feeling. He had answered to Regine, sure, for decades, but he’d been answering to her as an equal.

Or, at least, the treacherous voice in his head suggested, you thought you were equals.

She clearly had other impressions.

That was going to sting for a very long time, he knew. Regine had been pulling and pushing at his mind, at his memories, all this time. She’d been making him into what she needed.

It occurred to him that Red Doomsday, his captor, his Keeper, whose lover he had beaten half to death, had treated him with more respect and, as far as he knew – and that’s the problem, isn’t it? You wouldn’t KNOW – left him more of his mind and his volition than the woman he’d considered crew and a friend had. That stung nearly more than what Regine had done.

“Hey,” he called, as they neared the camp. She tilted her head, indicating she was listening. “Fly again sometime? For fun.”

“If we can,” she allowed. “If you can,” she added, which made Luke suppress a growl. “Not pissing off the Mayor just for shits and giggles.”

Luke huffed. “Can’t get used to that.”

“I’d suggest you do. She’s the Mayor, he’s the General. Whoever they were when you taught them… might be time to leave that behind… sa’Hunting Hawk.”

He let that sink in. They were nearly back to the camp. He could see the pennants near Leo’s tent. “I thank you for your wisdom, Captain.” He said it with as little stiffness as he could manage. She was being helpful, even if she was being pushy.

Hell, Mike would probably say being pushy was the only way TO help him.

Luke landed, picking a spot where he wouldn’t upset too many people. There was a figure sitting in a stone chair nearby, a brown cloak covering her. Brown cloaks weren’t part of Leo’s army’s uniform. He hadn’t seen anyone hooded like that…

He had enough time to process that before she pushed the hood back and hopped out of the chair. Cya, of course it was Cya, and she was looking particularly blank as she strode towards him.

“Luca.” Her backhand rocked him backwards. He fought against the urge to lift a hand to protect himself, to hit her back. He missed her first words because he was too busy not reacting. “…sent you here to be an aide and an asset to General Lightning Blade, not to hare off without warning or permission and cause trouble, wasting his time and mine.”

“I-” he started.

“This isn’t where you get to talk,” she cut him off. “You have embarrassed me and done a disservice to General Lightning-Blade’s army. You persist in thinking about yourself as an individual, when you haven’t been that in centuries. You were Addergoole’s. You still represent Addergoole in the eyes of thousands of people. And you are mine and you represent my will and my choices.”

She was dressing him down in the middle of an army. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Leo’s blond hair. He glowered.

“I-“

“No. You talk when I say you can talk.”

Luke bowed his head, cheeks burning in humiliation and breath catching in fury. How dare she? What the hell did she think he was?

“General Lightning-Blade, I’m afraid I’m going to have to deprive you of Luca’s service for a couple days while I remind him of his position.”

His position? Who the fuck did she think she was?

He missed Leo’s answer, almost missed Cya snapping “come” at him, and nearly missed the part where she was having them teleported back into the city, back to her house.

“The-” he began, when the teleporter was gone.

“No.” She cut him off one more time. “No, Luke. Dead gods be fucked, I am not going to juggle a neverending cycle of you and Leo being jealous for the entire fucking time I’m Keeping you.”

“Wh-“

“Luke, shut up until I tell you that you can speak. Look. If you were honestly not flying away because you were jealous, shake your head no now.”

Luke started to and stopped. His wings twitched and he made a very reluctant so-so gesture with his hand.

“Yeah. So. We’ve got to fix this, and we have to fix it fast, before I go bonkers and lock you both in a box somewhere.”

Luke was pretty sure she didn’t mean literally lock them in a box, but he wasn’t certain. He bowed, silently, and waited.

“First. You’re in trouble. I’m pretty sure you got that, but I wanted to hammer it home, since you have a hard time remembering that you’re not in charge here.”

He hadn’t been in charge in decades. He flapped… but nodded.

“Second…” She sighed. “We’re going to have to come up with something, if the thought of Leo and I being rough gets you angry. ‘Cause it’s gonna get a lot worse when autumn gets here.”

In autumn, he’d be teaching most of the time. He twitched his wings.

“Third.” She shook her head, slowly, thinking. “Third, you’re going to have to remember that what you do reflects on me and thus on Leo as well.”

“–” He shut his mouth as the order poked at him, reminding him he wasn’t allowed to speak.

She shook her head. “You know it, but you’re not internalizing it. You know the words, but the Keepings you’ve dealt around haven’t been in volatile political situations. Screw up in school, your Keeper looks bad, maybe gets punished, and it sucks for you for a few days – or a few weeks, if you really screwed up or your Keeper’s a real bitch. Screw up here, and we’re looking at what used to be a single nation and now is a bunch of fragmented nation-states, all of them held together, right now, by my paperwork and Leo’s charisma.”

He had a feeling there was a lot more to it than either papers or charisma, but it wasn’t the time for that. Luke let his wing-tips twitch and kept his eyes on his Keeper.

“So I can’t afford to have you going all cowboy on me, even if you’re going cowboy sulking over Leo’s love bites. When you are in public, I need you to be a good advisor, a good aide, a good —”
slave, Luke’s mind filled in.

“Kept. Do you understand?”

Luke nodded slowly. He got the broad idea, even if it tasted sour in his mouth.

“You can talk now.”

Luke wetted his lips. He wanted to say stupid things, to yell at her. He pulled his wings close and growled softly.

“I’m not…” he started, stopped, started again. “I’m not… I shouldn’t be. I’m not in love with you.”

“I know. I’m not your type.” She tilted her head and studied him. “You’re Kept, Luke, and I’m treating you like a person and not a commodity. Well, correction: you’re Kept, and I’m paying attention to you. If I was treating you like a pet, a toy, it might hit you, too, because I’d be paying enough attention to reinforce the bond.”

Luke didn’t really know what she meant by a pet or a toy, and he really didn’t want to know, either. He nodded slowly. “You’re not my type,” he agreed carefully.

“You’re Kept, it’s making you jealous of attention I give other people, notably, my lover. You see how this is going to be a problem?”

“Then what do you want me to do?!” He hadn’t meant it to be a bellow but it came out loud and thunderous, shaking him, shaking her. “I don’t know what I’m feeling, much less how to deal with it!”

She looked, he thought, startled, and then a little abashed. She put her hand on his knee. “Tell me, how do you normally deal with emotions you don’t like?”

“Either I use abatu hugr or I do something physical,” he muttered. “I was trying to — I was trying to just fly it out.” rather than destroy his emotions in the middle of the field, which could get… problematic.

“And that’s fine. If you tell me or Leo where you’re going first. You’re not… pretending to be your own man right now, Luca. You need to remember that.”

“So it’s fine if I fight it out or fly it out, as long as I tell the person that’s covered in bruises from his night with you, first?” What the hell was he saying? Luke flapped, irritated at himself.

And she just smiled. “Yes. If it helps — and I doubt it will — if he’s covered in bruises it means I’m happy, and in a month or two it’s going to be me covered in bruises and that, Hunting Hawk, will mean I had a phenomenal night no, let me finish.”

He shut his mouth.

“We’re lovers. It took us a damn long time and I will not let the fact that you tried to kill him get in the way of me having sex. With my lover. Understand?

“What do you want me for, then?”

What the hell was wrong with his mouth?

“You?” She laced her fingers together and rested her chin on her fingers to look at him. “Luke. You’re a tactical genius, a combat demon — in a good way — and you’ve seen more American History than most classes even brush on. Also, you’re great with kids…. And you’re very warm in bed. Like a furnace.”

“So… you want me as … what I’m doing for Leo… and… teaching? With a side order of, uh, literal bed warming?” The praise was making him giddy. He really needed to get hold of himself.

“That’s what I want you to do, yes.” She leaned forward to run her hand through his hair. “You’re valuable, Luke. To me, as well as to the army and Cloverleaf. You’re just going to have to remember that you’re valuable to me in a different manner than Leo is.”

He sighed and lowered his shoulders, nodding. “I can try. I can do that,” he corrected.

“Good.” She patted his shoulder. “I’m still going to punish you… but that’ll be short-term. The rest is long-term.”

Twelve years had seemed like nothing a few weeks ago. Now it was starting to feel like an eon.

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Weekend Blog with Patreon, Holidays, and more!

A two-day weekend feels rather short after a five-day “weekend”, but, on the other paw, I didn’t have to go anywhere all that far away, we didn’t have any major cooking (Barely any cooking at all!), and it turned out to be quite relaxing.

I got a new wobble stool for Black Friday (among other purchases), so this weekend, I tested it out, and found it fun, if a little surprising for my back and thighs for the first couple hours. Mobile computing! Or, at least, computing and being mobile at the same time! It’s actually a lot of fun.

We saw Fantastic Creatures this weekend, too, and that was fun, too; it’s not the most deep of movies, but it was visually beautiful, fun to watch, and has already got me spawning worlds of fic in my mind. I’ll call that worth the matinee ticket price.

Other than that — I wrote, we picked apples, we cleaned up the house a bit, hauled some firewood, and went out to lunch at our local Italian bar food restaurant (fish fry and enough Stromboli for three meals). We made cookies and the last of the turkey broth and… well, pretty much chilled. It was a peaceful weekend, and I’ll take it.

In other news, my Patreon has reached the $40 milestone again! I’m excited to get Nimbus out of the tree and see what adventures she gets up to next! (what, I’m supposed to know? I barely know how she’s getting out of the tree! <.<)

I’m contemplating doing a live-writing something sometime during my ~week plus~ work holiday at the end of December (a whole week! And then a Monday!) Details to follow, if there’s interest.

And if you haven’t checked out Selena Page yet, both the Hallowe’en and Christmas stories are available on Smashwords for free: https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/SelenaPage

Speaking of the holidays, Christmas is coming, I’ve finished my re/watch of the Librarians, and I’ve started watching Elementary, which might prove to be good knitting-tv (I hope so; I have a few projects to knit on relatively short deadlines!)

And Baking! I think I’m going to try making “fancy” cookies for my foodie aunt & uncle who are in ailing health. I can’t give them wine anymore… (not kindly) so cookies it is! Anyone have a favorite “Fancy” cookie recipe, holiday or otherwise?

I hope you, too, had a peaceful weekend, and that the week is fun and productive for you.

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In Which Amrit Reaches and Mieve Backs Up

First: A beginning of a story which obnoxiously cuts off just before the description,
Previous: In Which Amrit Makes Sense.

🐝
Every night, she sent Amrit to his bed, in his bedroom, and even though she wasn’t chaining him to his bed anymore, she still locked him in.

He wasn’t gagged and he wasn’t chained. It was a useless move, and she knew it. And yet, there she went, every night, and then slipped into her own bigger, more comfortable, softer bed.

He wasn’t swearing at her recently; he wasn’t arguing (much) with the chores she gave him, and even without the motivation of losing the gag for a couple hours, he was still cooperating and doing he work she set in front of him.

She lingered by his doorway this time. His leg was paining him less; she could tell by the way that he swung it when he moved, and by the way he wasn’t gritting his teeth as much when he didn’t know she was looking. He’d said five days; it’d been four. Pretty soon he’d have the splint off.

And then? She still had his promise, that was good for a few more days. And there was no reason to chain him up if she had all those promises. So why was she nervous?

“Something you need?” His eyes were closed, but he could hear her, of course, and the fact that the door hadn’t closed yet.

“No… no. Good night, Amrit.” What she needed was someone to grab her by the back of the neck and shake her, and even if he was going to volunteer for that, she didn’t think she wanted him to.

She closed the door, locked it, and went back to her bed. It had been warmer and more pleasant with Jerome there — but he’d left without a good-bye or a backwards glance when she’d freed him. Every other slave or Kept had done the same — except the one that had attacked her. She was better off keeping Amrit locked in his room and she in hers.

She stared at the ceiling for a while, the shadows dancing in the dark, before she managed to fall asleep, no matter how tired her body insisted she was.
🐝
“You know I can haul water,” he was insisting, early enough the next morning that the sun was still tinting the trees instead of hanging in the sky. “Come on, you don’t have to do all the hard labor around here. Isn’t that why you brought me here?”

“You’re still injured,” Mieve argued. “And it’s not easy to keep your balance while hauling buckets of water, much less while limping.”

“There’s only so much I can do about anything while I’m injured, and it’s driving me bonkers. Come on,” he wheedled. “There’s only so much firewood a guy can chop. There’s only so many seeds I can stand sowing.”

“There’s a lot to be done,” she countered, but her heart wasn’t in it. “All right. Watering the garden is fine.”

“Maybe you can talk your bees into a little honey for the bread?” he offered, with a playful smile she’d never seen from him before. “That was really tasty the other day. You don’t sell all of it, do you? Your honey?”

“A lot of it. But no, I keep some.” She couldn’t help but smile in response to his look. “We can have toast and honey with lunch today.”

“You’re the best.” He graced her with yet another smile. “Show me everything that needs watering? I want to be sure I don’t water your weeds.”

She pointed out the beds of dirt and tiny seedlings that held plants, and he nodded and repeated it back to her. “Buckets, well, watering can. I can do that.” He glanced at her, then seemed to make a decision. “Do you sell your honey very often? You haven’t gone anywhere since you, uh, brought me here, and I didn’t see you bring back anything but me, then.”

Mieve frowned. “That could be useful information, couldn’t it?”

He held his hands up. “I’m just saying, if you need to make a run, I could help — or you could tie me up with chains and promises.” He huffed quietly. “I want to run, okay? I’m not going to lie. But in the meantime, I don’t want to screw up your whole routine.”

“Why not?” She twisted her lips; that hadn’t been the smartest thing to say. She followed it up with… well, she hoped it was an explanation. “You weren’t exactly happy to be here. What changed?”

I broke his leg.

That was not a reasonable thing to change someone’s entire attitude towards the positive.

“I, uh…” He frowned, and seemed to be arguing silently with himself. “Well, it’s like this. You could’ve done a lot of things when I broke the chain and ran — tried to run. You could’ve enjoyed the chance to punish me. I mean, you weren’t even all that bad before, even when I was being rude and miserable. You still fed me, you kept all your bargains.”

He coughed and shifted most of his weight to his good leg. “So, you know. You kept your word. I knew what that meant; I knew that if I ran, you’d keep your word again, you’d break my leg. Right? I knew I couldn’t get caught, I knew what I was getting into. I mean, yeah, I hoped if you caught me you wouldn’t…” He flapped both his hands at her in frustration. “You’re getting that expression again. Don’t, please don’t, okay?”

Mieve cleared her throat. “What, uh. What expression.”

“The one that says I’m a horrible person, I tortured him. You’re not – I think, I mean, I don’t know you that well yet, and you didn’t. You kept your word, which is what I expected. But you let me do it myself when I explained, so you weren’t, uh. You didn’t need to hurt me, you didn’t need to damage me, you just had to keep your word, no matter how much you hated it.”
“I’m not a monster.” The words went out of her mouth without consulting her first. She ducked her head, knowing she was flushing, feeling the heat in her cheeks, and sighed.

“And someone said you were, didn’t they? The humans, they all think all of us are monsters, and, you know, I see why. If you first experience with the fae is, like, the bastard calling himself Zeus or that bitch Hera that took over New York City, or some Nedetakaei monster that took advantage of the chaos, yeah. They’re gonna hate every fae they see for a while after that. But that’s nothing to do with us.”

She cleared her throat. He was trying so hard to be kind, and it was doing anything but helping. She didn’t want to stop him, but she just couldn’t listen. “It wasn’t a human,” she whispered. “Wasn’t even one person.”

“You’re not hiding out here because nobody spooked you,” he pointed out dryly.

“No. No, I mean. There’s always humans saying things like ‘the only good fae is a dead fae.’ I mean, I don’t know, they could be fae saying it, just to fit in. I knew I couldn’t risk being out in public too much, and I’m not strong enough to take on a whole hunting pack of Nedetakaei or anything. But that’s…” She shrugged. “Like you said. They’re scared, and they’re lashing out. That’s different.”

“Then who… shit.” She looked up in time to see Amrit lean against the wood behind him and sigh. “Shit. Your former Kept? Shit. Because, what, you buy slaves?”

“Well, you weren’t exactly happy with me for that,” she pointed out.

“Yeah, well, I suppose an argument could be made that you’re supplying the demand so they’re supplying the slaves, but it’s not like, uh. Well, you’re not that bad, you’re not bad at all.” He shrugged. “You’re not a monster. You’re right. And, you know, that’s why I don’t want to screw up your life here. I’ll stay through winter, okay? I’ll make sure I’m doing my share, because I don’t want to just be mooching off of you and then leaving. And you can have all that in a promise, if you want… and, yeah. Yeah,” he sighed. “I was pissed. I was really pissed. I’d been stupid enough to sleep where I could be grabbed, because I can’t be attacked all that well unless you cut off my head— hell, for all I know, I’d grow a new body, but let’s not try that, okay?” He grinned suddenly at Mieve; she smiled back, although less enthusiastic than his wide, open expression.

“I…” He shrugged and his smile twisted a bit. “I was pissed. And, uh, like I said. I don’t take orders well. And I really, really hated that gag. The one they put on me,” he added hurriedly. “The one you put on me was, well, pretty good, for a gag.”

“That was the idea,” she admitted. Hesitantly, because they were getting along so well and she didn’t want to ruin it, but she needed to know, she asked, “why are you telling me all this?”

“In a blatant and probably-futile attempt to get you to trust me a little bit,” he admitted. “And, uh. Well, I can talk to you.” He worked his jaw. “I can talk. So I’m feeling talkative? I figure sooner or later my promises will run out and you’ll put the gag back in, and then we’ll be back to where we were.”

The thought filled Mieve with disappointment. She frowned, puzzling over it. “Maybe?” she offered. “I mean…” She shook her head. Like he said, he was trying to get her to trust him. He was just playing all the cards he had at his disposal for that, and guilt was probably one of those. “Nah. Forget it.” She shrugged. “You’ve got a couple days left in your promises. If you want to go hunt, the bows are in the garage.”

She stomped away, doing her damnedest not to examine the emotions roiling around in her.

I just want you to trust me. She’d certainly heard that before. She had even believed it a few times. And, to be fair, the people she’d believed it from had wanted her to trust them. She still had some of the scars.

Next: http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1211863.html

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