Archive | January 2017

January By the Numbers Twelve: Giant giraffes gambol gingerly (fiction Piece)

January by the numbers continues (now two days off~)!
From [personal profile] kelkyag‘s prompt “Giant giraffes gambol gingerly;” a ficlet
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🌱

The planet was smack between a planet that had been renowned for its local foods and one that had been amazingly good at providing raw materials, and, as such, it became a way-stop on the transgalactic trade route.

It if had not been right where it was, it was likely it would not have been touched; at least not until a new government came into power back “at home”; the current policy was that one settled on planets but one lived in some sort of concert with the local flora and fauna. Thus, the mining and farming those two bracketing planets did was of the careful, long-term sustainable sort, and the planets were tended with, as one might say, kid gloves.

But this way-planet, this one offered some unique problems. If one was allowed to harvest not more than 25% of the local flora or fauna, what did one do when there were only three plants of any given sort taking up an entire continent? They were, of course, very big plants, spanning miles and miles, but one could not take the root of the plant for experimentation without destroying it unless one was very, very careful.

The companies who did such things preferred working in places where one could simply cordon off one mile out of four and work from there, mining or planting or harvesting or hunting. This planet, thus, would have been left alone for quite some time – perhaps forever, or at least until a more permissive galactic government took over.

But it was at a perfect way-position, and thus one small corner was cordoned off – so very carefully, destroying as little as possible of the local ecosystem – for their space-station.

And from there you could take hover-tours, safaris in very well-armored vehicles. You could, on your long layovers, soar over the giant continent-spanning leaves, watching the giant giraffe-like creatures gambol through the leaves. There were only ten of them on the continent, and they would mouth gingerly at the hover-cars, testing them to see if they were food.

It was a good planet to stop on, and a lovely tour, everyone said.

So long as you avoided the jaguar-creature.

🌱

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MARKED – Enough about attempted murder…

MARKED – 1.11

“Well, if nobody wants you dead, maybe someone wanted you to be a Rune?” Lorque offered, and then immediately shook her head. “No, that’s insane. Nobody would do that, would they? So if nobody you know of wants you dead, it must be someone you don’t know of. Someone from your family, maybe? …

read on…

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Buffy: the Invitation (an Addergoole Crossover), Part 21

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

Part XI
Part XII
Part XIII
Part XIV
Part XV
Part XVI
Part XVII
Part 18
Part 19
Part 20

The director looked taken aback.

She cleared her throat. “That was unclear of me, which is not my normal modus operandi. I apologize. Sunnydale is a problem in and of itself. There should not be such a portal open yet, and it should not be opening to – this unclear place. That will have to be looked into, and I consider it a vast oversight on the part of this ‘Watcher’s Council’ that it has not been in any depth.” She looked pointedly at Buffy. “You have done, from all reports, an amazing job in a situation where you were sent in under-equipped, under-trained, and far under-supported. Your friends have done an amazing job of backing you up when they had no training and, as far as I understand it, very little access to anything beyond the human. I consider your achievements in Sunnydale to be nothing short of amazing.

“And I would like to offer you both support and some time away from this ‘Hellmouth’ for training and education, for all three of you, and for your mentor as well.”

“Wait, what?” Buffy was staring at the director. Xander was staring at the director. Willow was pretty sure she was, too. “Could you back that up and replay it?”

“Especially the part where we’re doing an amazing job?” Xander put in. “I mean, really, nobody’s ever said anything like that.”

The director cleared her throat. “I would like to offer all three of you two things: support on this ‘Hellmouth,’ and time here, as was originally arranged by your parents some time ago, that is, I apologize, your birth parents, to train, to learn to use the furthest extent of your abilities, and to, ah, have something of a vacation.”

“Nobody can handle the Hellmouth. That’s my job. That’s what I was born for. Chosen for.” Buffy’s voice had gone flat again.

The director let the statement hang in the air for a moment before shaking her head. “I want to make something clear: I am in no way denigrating the skills that you have. From what I have seen and what I have been told, you are an extraordinary young woman. And I do believe that you were chosen, groomed, and trained for this position, and that your skills and innate talents are far above that of an ordinary human. However… I have others who you can train, who are also powerful, who are also strong, who are also durable. And they would enjoy the chance to fight real monsters in a situation where they do not have to hide, because, as it has been explained to me, the environment itself will hide them.”

Giles cleared his throat. “Ah, yes. The ‘Blindness of the Gods,’ as it is called, is particularly strong in Sunnydale. It’s as if there’s some sort of –” he hesitated, no, Willow realized, he paused dramatically, and aimed a look directly at Regine, “–complex Mind Working around the entire city, powered by the Hellmouth.”

“Fascinating.” The Director looked between Giles and the Scoobies. “This is my offer: we will send teams of students and some of my best employees – both Professors and staff – to Sunnydale in rotation, to give them solid real-world experience. While they are doing that, you three will come to Addergoole for our typical four-year program, which will be tailored to your unique needs and skills.”

“‘Real-world experience,'” Buffy interrupted. “You realize this real-life experience can get them killed, right?”

“Of course.” She leaned forward over the desk. Now, her lips curled upwards in something very nearly a smile. “Yes. As is common in the real world. They will be in teams, Buffy, and they will be paired with a skilled hunter. You may be the one girl in all the world called by this particular spell, but there are many, many demon-hunters in the world.”

“Faster, tougher, demon-hunters who can survive a attack by a monster?” Buffy shifted her weight back onto her heels. Willow moved closer, although she didn’t know what she could do to help. “Come on, they didn’t make me for no reason.”

“No. And I have quite a few ideas about why you – and all the others like you – might have been made. I will share them with you once I have more data accumulated, but in the meantime, let me see. No, no-one else that I have ever encountered has ever been as specialized, as naturally skilled, and as directed towards the fight of these particular monsters as you. You – and presumably your sisters-in-Slaying – are very well-designed for this particular task. However, if I send a team of people, say, one with the ability to See those things which are not normally seen, one who is preternaturally fast, and one who is preternaturally strong, along with someone very skilled in the magic of healing – especially healing ‘on the fly’, as it were, especially with the ability to consult with the three of you at the drop of a hat, I believe they can hold the line until you finish your education. In the meantime, you could train others to do the same.”

“I am not training people to send them to die!”

“I assure you, I would not allow you to send people to die, not my people. We put a great deal of effort into the education of our students, and a great deal of money, time, and effort into the recruitment of our staff and professors. But perhaps you would like to spar with a few select people before we formalize our agreement?”

“I hope they brought pads.” Buffy’s expression was dark.

“I’ll be sure to let them know. That aside — if our plan satisfies you, that means that Sunnydale will be protected for your time here and, if you so choose, you could work in rotation with several others while you, for instance, attended college.”

“You’re serious. You know the Council would flip out. They like me being right where they can handle me.”

“This ‘Council,’ well, I believe the phrase is ‘leave them to me.’

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Now on Patreon: Day Twin, Night Twin (a repost) and Pull It (new fiction)

Originally posted Dec. 16, 2012. It’s not quite thresholds – but, as it turns out, I don’t have all that many stories about liminal spaces.

🌑

It happened once in a generation, or maybe twice – twins born on the cusp of the day, so that one was born to a sinister day, and one to a bright day. The one born to the sinister was taken away, to be raised by others born in the night-days. The one born to the bright-days lived in the light.

read on..


“Come to the movies with me.”

See, that’s the thing: It’s the lever on a Rube Goldberg machine, and you have to see the lever, pull the lever, and then not catch the cat before it eats the mouse six steps later.

read on…


Both stories free for all to read!

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January By the Numbers Eleven: Dubious dirty diapers (fiction Piece)

January by the numbers continues (now two days off~)!
From [personal profile] kelkyag‘s prompt ” Dubious dirty diapers;” a ficlet
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🚼
“The thing is… I don’t have a kid.”

Gere stared at the laundry. Pene stared, too, but mostly at Gere.

“I know you don’t have a kid. I would have had to help you fill out the paperwork.”

“All things considered, you would have had to help me with a lot more than just the paperwork. So. I don’t have a kid.”

“True. And, just in case this is somehow in question, neither do I.”

“I know that. But the thing is, Pene, those aren’t your 900-credit pants, are they?”

“Why in the legions and the stardust would you ever pay 900 credits for a pair of pants?”

“Well, they’ve got stardust in them, for one; they make my ass look amazing, and when I’m meeting with 900 million-credit clients, they make me look like I belong there and not in the kitchen.”

“Right. So, those are your pants?”

“Those are my pants. That’s my vest beneath it and, if you pick those up, that’s my socks and underwear and whatnot – it’s my clothes. Just in case someone else nearby has exactly the same tastes as me, I checked for the tiny rip I had repaired in my favorite vest and the way the pants are hemmed with a very narrow hem to allow for –“

“Yes, yes, you’re a giant, we all know that. Gere. It’s your laundry, come back to you from our laundromat. What’s the problem?”

Gere lifted up all of the afore-discussed laundry to reveal a small pile of mostly-clean diapers, with an apologetic note. “These. And,” under the carefully-lifted diapers were a pile of onesies and an adorable baby set of pants-and-vest, very like the aforementioned set of Gere’s. “And…”

“…and we don’t have a kid. Gere, who sends diapers to the laundromat? Whose diapers have stains the laundromat can’t get out?”

“…and who dresses their baby just like me? We have some problems here.”
🚼

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Pull It – a story for Patreon

“Come to the movies with me.”

See, that’s the thing:  It’s the lever on a Rube Goldberg machine, and you have to see the lever, pull the lever, and then not catch the cat before it eats the mouse six steps later. 

“No money.”  I was between jobs, between lovers, between misery and apathy.  I didn’t really want to move at all. “No interest, sorry.”

See? There’s me missing a lever.  But: Continue reading

MARKED – 1.10

“I don’t remember all of it,” Nilien admitted. Lorque was watching her and not the path in front of them, but it didn’t seem to be endangering her at all. “I woke up in the infirmary, and the fox was there with me.”

You wanted to live, the fox reminded her.

Nilien smiled wanly at her familar…

read on…

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Talking, Aftermath (More of the Chess AU)

This comes after Luke and Mike… Talk


“Done already?” Leo asked them. He looked startled.

Mike didn’t know what to think about that, that Leo had expected them to be in there longer.

“Didn’t want to be too long.” The Kept-skirting-orders feelings were coming off of Luke in palpable waves. Mike wondered if he knew it. She wondered how it would change him – this whole thing, the bond, twelve years under the collar, being away from Addergoole.

Leo snorted, with a headshake that looked far too amused. “I’m not even your Keeper.”

“Doesn’t mean you can’t give me orders.” Luke’s shoulders were even hunched forward. It was very nearly adorable.

“I didn’t give you an order, baka.” Leo flicked Luke’s forehead lightly, grinning. Mike fought against her own grin.

Luke wrinkled his nose, his expression showing how much he was fighting against – being offended? Slapping Leo’s hand away? “In that case…” He glanced over at Mike and his whole countenance softened. Mike had no idea what to think about that. She was used to Luke being more scowl-y when it came to her, not less. ”I think we have more to talk about.”

Leo shooed them away. ”I’ll come get you when I need you.”

Mike couldn’t help her chuckle this time. ”Oh, gosh, Luke. You have New Kept Smell. It’s adorable.”

“He totally does,” Leo agreed.

“New… What?” Luke looked between the two of them, clearly lost.

Mike took his arm. ”It’s what some of the students call it. That feeling where you can’t quite tell an order from a suggestion, and everything that your Keeper says feels like it’s engraved in stone. They must be treating you with kid gloves,” she added, sotto voce, as they stepped back into Leo’s tent. She was pretty sure she approved of that. “If you’re still feeling it weeks later.”

“New Kept Smell.” He wrinkled his nose at her. “I’m not a new car.”

“Oh, but darling, you totally are. Come on, how many times have you given the lecture to your Students?”

Luke grumbled. “My Students don’t end up Kept very often,” he pointed out. “Not like…”

“Yours don’t end up Keepers pretty often. But you had three Kept last year, and you can’t tell me you missed it.”

He hadn’t, she knew. He’d only had four first-years; half of them and then one of the second-years had been collared. “I try,” he complained, clearly uncomfortable. He sat down on the floor of Leo’s tent and looked up at Mike.

“I know you try, Feathers, but you’re uncomfortable with — well, so many things. Bertholt, you were a lot better about him that you would’ve been back when we started this thing, but Perseus knew you didn’t like it, he knew why you didn’t like it, and it made things harder on everyone.” Mike sat down and leaned her head was on his shoulder. Much to her surprise, Luke draped his arm over her shoulders.

“I didn’t do bad with Bertholt. I mean.” He shifted a bit. “I don’t like it when they’re Kept.”

“You don’t like it when they’re Kept badly, and you don’t like admitting that they could be Kept well and enjoy it. Like Omarri.” She grinned at him. She was poking, but he was going to have to admit it eventually.

Luke’s wings twitched. The second-year Student who had ended up bending knee to a fourth-year cy’Fridmar, yeah, that had bothered him. Even Regine had noticed. “I’m raising warriors,” he complained quietly. Very quietly.

“I know. And warriors follow orders, don’t they?”

“Their commander’s orders. When there’s someone else…”

“Warriors have lovers, too. Children. Families. I know there’s a lot of pretense about not having connections, but warriors are people, Bird-brain.” She kissed his cheek. ”Tell Leo, by the way, that I’m the only one that gets to call you idiot.”

Mike wasn’t sure why she’d said that. She wasn’t sure why she’d done that. Kissed Luke? On the cheek, sure, but she hadn’t done that in nearly three centuries. She leaned back; even though she knew he didn’t like hitting her in female form, that wouldn’t stop him if he thought she was messing with him.

To be fair, the only times Luke had actually hit Mike, Mike had been messing with him.
He didn’t look ready to hit anyone. He looked a little disgruntled and a little amused. “I don’t think he’ll listen. He’s my commanding officer, you know.”

“But not your Keeper.”

“And neither are you.” He turned to look at her, catching her face in his hand. He’d never done that. She’d seen him do that to other women, but never with him. He’d never touched her like that. ”We’re crew, Mike. We’ve been friends for a long time. And… maybe, in twelve years, maybe we might talk about something else. But it won’t be Keeper and Kept. All right? I’m not going to go there with you… again.”

“Not even for fun?” Needling him was too old a habit; the words were out of her mouth before she considered them. So she batted her eyebrows at him and made sure he knew she was playing.
The look he gave her was far too considerate. Mike swallowed. This was not what he was expecting.

“I don’t know,” he said, slowly, like he hadn’t quite worked the thought out, “exactly how far I’ll be allowed to go. But I might want to try something… in private, of course.”
Mike froze. ”Say that again?” she asked quietly. ”Just… Um. Just say that again?”

He couldn’t mean… could he? After centuries of barely looking at her, at least not as anything but a friend and crewmate…

He should get Kept more often, if this is where it got them.

She blushed the moment the thought crossed her mind, but Luke was clearing his throat and, rather surprisingly obediently, saying that again.

“There’s something I want to try with you, maybe. In private, real private. If I can. We know, uh. We know she’s the jealous sort, but I don’t know. She’s in a… a thing, with Leo.” Luke cleared his throat a couple times. ”I’m not sure where their lines lie. Where her lines lie, when it comes to uh. What I can and can’t do.”

Mike was still mulling over we know she’s the jealous sort. ”You’ve been paying a lot of attention to her for a long time, haven’t you?”

“To Boom.” Luke’s wings shifted, but they were much stiller than they had been before he came here. Mike reached out on impulse and stroked the leathery tissue of the wing; Luke didn’t quite freeze, but he was holding that wing very still to Mike’s touch. ”To Boom,” he repeated, “and, well, yeah. To Cya. Think about it. A Kept a year for decades. At least once – no, twice – that I know of, she Kept in a generational stack. That was a lot of potential damage. A lot of potential good, too.” He sounded a little guilty at the last. Mike wondered if Cya’s lines on her Kept included passive emotional reading.

She decided it was worth the possible challenge, and dipped into Luke’s emotions.

Oh, the roil of defensiveness and worry, Kept-feelings and concern. “Luke – it’s okay for you to have been analytical about Cya when you were security and administration for Addergoole. We all should have been paying more attention.”

“I know that,” he growled. “It’s just this… thing in my brain….”

“The bond doesn’t like you thinking critically or negatively about your Keeper. No, it never does.”

She hadn’t had that problem when Luke had Kept her. She hadn’t ever thought critically about him, collared or no. “The question is – what does your Keeper think about it?”

“I don’t know,” he muttered. Embarrassment flooded through him. “I’m not good with that shit, Mike. With, you know…”

“Feelings?” she offered dryly. “It’s one of your best Words, bird-brain.”

“Talking about feelings,” he complained. “That’s different.”

“So don’t talk. Act. Come on, you’re good at acting…” Mike trailed off, wrinkling her nose. “I feel like I ought to be jealous.

“Were you jealous before?”

Before meant Kiara, meant Wil, meant way back, when Luke had first been married.

“Of course.” Mike’s lips twisted in amusement. “What? You expected me not to be? Of course I was jealous. More jealous when it came to Manira, though.”

“Because she wasn’t your daughter?”

He must be feeling better, he was teasing her.

She smiled sweetly at him, rather than give him a reaction. “Because she is a Daeva, love.”

Luke flushed. “I didn’t know that at the time.”

“I guessed. If I’d thought you’d known, I would have been quite hurt.” She kissed his cheek. “It’s not like I haven’t had lovers over the years.”

“I know,” he grumbled. Mike felt her eyebrows raising.

“Luca,” she asked, in a tone that was meant to sound mock-scandalized, in part because she was genuinely a bit shocked. “Are you jealous? Of my lovers?

“Well, yes.” He half-sulked, half-glared at her, presumably for poking at a touchy subject. “Yeah. A little, sometimes. Not… well. Yeah.”

“No wonder you’re so cranky all the time,” she teased him, and was rewarded by a very nice sulk. She gave him a hug, for once feeling like she didn’t have to guess what was acceptable. “My darling, the only consolation for how ridiculous we are is that we’re not the only ridiculous ones.”

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Three Routes

First: Slaves, School
Previous: Decisions

Halthinia had not, it turned out, brought a picnic, but still seemed fine waiting patiently while Desmond considered matters.

After a while, Des snorted. “I’m overthinking,” he told Halthinia. “Considering the options, considering what they could mean, considering what I know about collared people…”

“I can’t imagine that’s all that much.”

“Oh, no. I mean, I’ve seen a couple. But nobody I know knew one, and nobody had someone from their family who was one—”

“That they spoke of.”

“That they spoke of,” he agreed. “So I have, well, nothing at all to base my decision on.”

“That, dear child, is the point.” Halthinia smiled brightly at him. “So. How will you make this decision?”

Desmond turned slowly in place. “If I go by physical…” he started, and trailed off. I’m not a thug, some part of his brain complained. I’m better than just a laborer. Even if I am poor and short-tempered. “No.” He turned a bit more. “If I go intuitive…” He didn’t know. He wanted to say I’m not that impulsive, but it didn’t seem to be true. He turned, looking for a moment down the passage they’d come through.

Back was not a choice, that much he knew for sure. There was no way he could turn back now, not when it meant never knowing what would come next.

(He wasn’t entirely certain he’d be allowed to leave, but that was unimportant at the moment).

He kept turning. “If I go with the intellectual route…”

He ignored Annelle’s voice in his head, telling him he wasn’t good enough for a bookish job, that he wasn’t the sort of boy who ended up working with numbers. He thought about it, about reading books all the time, about making his decisions based on moderated, deliberate thought and educated knowledge.

He shook his head. “It’s fine for fun,” he muttered, “but it’s a slow way to make decisions.”

He turned a half-circle. “It seems,” he joked weakly, “that I shouldn’t have thought that long about an intuitive decision.”

“It’s better to give it due consideration,” Halthinia countered gently. “It will color much of your future.”

“This is…” He started walking slowly, then turned to look at Halthinia. “This is the ‘intuition’ road, right?”

“This is, yes. You were saying?” Halthinia matched pace with Desmond, ambling down the long, featureless hallway.

“This, today. It’s been a long day already and I don’t know what time it is. I went to bed last night and I was going to go down to Shops Row tomorrow and see if someone would give me a job, because my sisters are better at school than I am, even if I like the books more. Now, I’m in an impossible place in an impossible building-“

“Impossible?”

“The stairs went in directions that couldn’t exist within the building as it looks from the outside, and now here we are, somewhere that my brain tells me ought to be several stories in the air over the apartment building next to the Central Office. It’s impossible.” Desmond smiled apologetically. “At least, it seems very unlikely.”

“It’s a very good observation. And, yes, the first day is full of transitions.” Halthinia smiled crookedly. “It does level out after the first few weeks. You have made the hardest decisions already and, of course, for those of us who are collared, many decisions are simply out of our hands.

“I’m not sure if that’s reassuring or not,” Des admitted.

“Many people feel that way. I did, at first. But you get used to the feeling of someone else being in control pretty quickly – I believe that’s part of why they take us at the age they do. Your parents were still in control of you, more or less, yes?”

“I was trying to change that,” Des muttered, “but yes. They controlled my comings and goings.”

“And now someone else will. Here.” They had come to a stop by a doorway; Halthinia produced a key and opened it. “Good luck, Desmond. I do not think you’ll need it, but you have my well-wishes anyway.”

“But – I thought you were going to be one of my teachers.” Des frowned. He had to go on alone?

“I will be, but that is tomorrow, or perhaps several days later. For now, you need to find your house and your room, and adjust to your new settings.” Halthinia patted Des’ back companionably. “It’ll go by fast enough, and then you’ll see me again.”

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January By the Numbers Ten: Busy bees buzzing brightly (fiction Piece)

January by the numbers continues (still a day off~)!
From [personal profile] clare_dragonfly‘s prompt “Busy bees buzzing brightly, bearing beauteous bouquets.;” a ficlet
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🐝
“The hive’s alight tonight.” Oshen stared at the office building, bright with lights in the middle of the night. From their vantage point, three buildings over, the people moving around looked like ants — or maybe bees — insects anyway, buzzing around, bopping here and there in what looked like a random pattern. “Who do you think kicked it?”

“It doesn’t look that much like a hive,” Nensho complained. “I mean, okay, it’s sort of got that shape, but—”

“But it’s full of worker bees, moving here and there, doing whatever their little Queen Bee tells them. Except for Eidercorp, it’s not a Queen Bee, is it? It’s a King Bee. Unnatural.” Oshen grinned, liking the taste of the word. “Unnatural. Against the natural order of things. Counter to the way things are supposed to be.”

“Easy now,” Nensho chided. “You’re doing that thing where you get carried away again and then you start believing your own propaganda. Don’t forget that thing last year with Tenor, Inc. It ended up being a big mess, and all because you got caught up in your alliteration and allegory.”

“There was some onomatopoeia, too,” Oshen complained. “And maybe some rhyme.”

“Either way, every way, anyway, just don’t. We have a goal, no?”

“We have a goal, now.”

“Good. So, let’s get to the goal.” Nensho stared at Eidercorp through high-powered binoculars. “All right, they’re clearly up to something. I can’t tell quite what from here but it looks a little bit like a dance, doesn’t it?”

“What, they’re telling the King Bee where the honey is? That seems a little too literal when they’re working off of my metaphor,” Oshen complained.

“No.” Nensho frowned. “It looks like they’re taking bouquets to the CFO. All of them. Everyone in the company.”

“…And you say I get carried away.”
🐝

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