aldersprig: a close up of an alder leaf (Leaf)
"Because everything is better with the end of the world."

Welcome! Below you can find hundreds - thousands, really - of posts, many of them fiction.

I write a lot - much in established universes, some in one-off settings. Much of what I write ends up here. In addition, you'll find homesteading blogging, the occasional crafts-and-clothing post, and journals of my wine-tourism of New York State.

Here (and here on Livejournal) you'll find an index of my universes. Each 'verse has its own landing page with an index of stories within.

My Donor landing page is here (and on LJ); you can tip (tips go in a general pool to sponsor longer stories, voted on monthly), sponsor an already-written story, or commission a story to be written. Or you can become a Patreon Patron and unlock even more fiction!

Enjoy!
aldersprig: (Shahin)
Written to [personal profile] jeriendhal's prompt here to my Giraffe Call.

Aiden is the grandson of Shahin and Emrys from
Addergoole, via their son and daughter Morganna and Arturo. So when he thinks about his grandparents, ah, there's only two of them. (And only three great-grandparents).

Year 53 or so of the Addergoole School, 2047


The problem with leaving the family business, Aiden was discovering, was that it didn't really leave you.

He was trying, trying very hard, to be a good guy. Which, he supposed, his mother and grandmother and so on had as well, but let's be honest, his grandparents were the sort of people who would take over a city for its own good and take ten percent off the top for living expenses and wardrobe before they worried about the starving children in the streets.

Aiden was trying not to be that person.
Read more... )
aldersprig: (CyaSmile)
Johannes enjoyed his new job quite a bit.

The work was rewarding and just challenging enough to be interesting. His co-workers were pleasant, the pay was good, and it left him plenty of time to pursue his primary hobby.

What was more, in Cloverleaf, he and Adella didn't have to hide. He didn't have to keep a shop full of fabric and paper just in case someone wanted to see him making something. He didn't have to Mask if he didn't want to. He didn't have to live in fear of a slip-up dooming both him and his sister. In Cloverleaf, people walked around un-Masked all the time. In Cloverleaf, if you said you were fae at the front gate, they asked you what your skills were.

Which was, incidentally, how Johannes had gotten his job. He'd been in the middle of the immigration paperwork when a red-headed woman had grabbed his hand. "You can Create. That's what you said, right? Create and objects, and you can do cloth? Paper?"

"...yes." The woman had the most phenomenal mink stole... no, it was her tail, wrapped around her leg.

"Good. I need a printing press. I hope you need a job."

"...my sister." he was not normally left this without words.

"We'll find her a job too. You - you I have an immediate need for." She'd hesitated for a moment, and then added, "I'll throw in lodgings, a good two-bedroom house near work. But I really need you."

Ad thus Johannes had found himself settled in a very nice office in a building called simply The Press, teamed with a woman whose power allowed her to take in the entire contents of a book and whose Words allowed her to download that information into someone else's mind without utterly overwhelming them. Zayda didn't talk much, but since she spent large portions of the day in Johannes' brain, they didn't need much conversation.

The most interesting part of their job came when the Press got its hands on a book - often borrowed-slash-requisitioned from new immigrants to the city. Zayda would absorb the text, and then Johannes would get the artistic task of reproducing the feel and heft of the book, although often in better shape than the original. There was a craftsmanship to it, and Johannes marked every book with their combined chop with pride and a sense of a job well done. The Press supplied both the Library and a book store, which, Johannes was given to understand, paid most of his salary.

The best part of his job, however, was that it gave him time to pursue his hobby, and it gave him plenty of practice with the Words he needed. In Cloverleaf, nobody thought it strange if he and Adella had a new outfit each day, or if Adella sold copies of their outrageous get-ups in her little shop. Indeed, a small, select group of people might know that he was one of the two people who made Cloverleaf's money (as well as the city's books) - but everyone knew him as the guy with the best clothes. And wearing a Johannes original was quickly becoming a status symbol in this little town.

Johannes was enjoying his new life quite a bit. And, on top of everything else, he got to make money.
aldersprig: (AldersGrove)
First: A beginning of a story which obnoxiously cuts off just before the description,
Previous: In Which Amrit is Confused.

Fae Apoc, approx. now.

Content Warnings: This setting, although not this ficlet, contains rape, mind control, and dubious consent situations.

This particular story contains kidnapping and slavery, bondage, violence, and will eventually contain Stockholm Syndrome.

Read more... )

I haven't tried this recipe yet, but the pie is something like this
aldersprig: (LynConstruction)


Tuesday, I put more brassicae in the ground!

This time it was a row of Brussels Sprouts, which despite growing like a tall stick of vegetation, require like 18" of spacing. I like planting stuff close together - French Intensive Gardening or Square Foot Gardening style - so spacing things that far apart is weird. But they don't seem to thrive without the space.

Then a row of cabbage. Cabbage! We'll see if we actually eat it...

I've got room for one more row in this bed. I think it'll be half kale and half broccoli.

Gooooooo Team Brassica!
aldersprig: (Cya Surprise)
The one date reference in this currently sets it in 2053, year 59 of the Addergoole School and 11 of Doomsday Academy. However, I may move it a little later, to coincide with a project Inventrix & I are considering, one said Inventrix wakes up to consult. :-)

Regine had a tendency to come to decisions slowly - not because she was in any way stupid, but because she liked to consider all angles of an issue and, on non-critical matters, saw no reason to go quickly. (In that, she was much like the old Grigori that had raised her, a fact Luke would not mention out loud or even think loudly where anyone might overhear it.)

Because of this, she often took long enough to reach a decision that Luke, having already gone through a much more blunt-object style of thought, was taken by surprise by the time she announced her results.

"I believe I should visit this 'Doomsday Academy', she announced, over a dinner shared between their crew.

Luke nearly choked on his beer. Regine raised her sculpted eyebrows at him.

"You have visited several times by now, haven't you? And Michael here has visited so often that they have named a new drink after him. It is a project by an Addergoole graduate, and thus I have a vested interest in visiting."
Read more... )
aldersprig: (CyaSmile)
On her 94th birthday, Cya Red Doomsday allowed her hair to return to its natural brown. However, she kept one lock of hair her trademark red, just above her left temple.
aldersprig: (Aldersprig Leaves Raining)
Written to [personal profile] inventrix's prompt here to my Giraffe Call!

This is at least in part due to watching Far Too Much Venture Brothers and contemplating a semi-Venture-Brothers-style webserial recently.


"Well?" Dragonfly looked around her minions. "Did you do it right this time?"

One of the more nervous minions stepped forward. Faceless in her smooth mask, featureless in her robe-and-loose-pants, the minion's glove held her only identification. Seventy-two.

It had been a very bad year for henchwomen.

"She fell off the edge of Tanaron Cliff, ma'am. She doesn't have flight powers, she doesn't have super-science. She's dead."

Dragonfly sighed. "Take me there." When they hesitated, she raised her voice. "Take me there!" The problem with henchwomen was that you either ended up with smart ones that betrayed you or loyal ones that just weren't fast enough. "Come on. Let me see the place where she fell off the cliff."

She was going to have to run Henchwoman Training School again, she could see. If this particular group survived their own mistakes.

~

"She's gone! That blight on the face of femininity is dead!" The Matriarch did not often engage in ranting or raving, but she felt the situation deserved it this time. "She will never survive the death trap; nobody ever has."

"Um, ma'am?" One of her perfectly-clad minions bowed cautiously. "The death trap is empty, ma'am."

The Matriarch hissed. "Well, then, fix the problem! What happened to her?"

"I, ah, I'm not certain, ma'am. But we did find three of your Techniors naked and unconscious in the observation room by the death trap."

The Matriarch hissed. "Next time, next time I'm going to put a bullet through her myself. No matter how male that might be."

~

The Firebrand brought up the giant fireball that was her namesake power and most favorite trick. She flooded the room - the room which had one exit, which she was blocking - with her superheated flame.

When the flames died away, the room was empty, without even a charred bone remaining. She was gone. Dead. Eliminated.

~

"Well." She pulled another, identical, super-suit from the closet and dusted off the charred remains of her last one. "Note to self," she called to her computer. "Check up on the Matriarch next week. That death trap has to be completely dismantled before some other schmoe falls into it. And then send Dragonfly a sympathy card. She really ought to have better henchwomen."
aldersprig: (CyaSmile)
If you enjoyed [personal profile] inventrix's piece Thank You and my response piece, you might want to check the DW comments of my response for the continuing story.
aldersprig: (flower aldersprig)
"Friend Pepper, shall we revel?" Thor waggled his eyebrows playfully.

"Why, Thor, I think that would be a lovely idea." Pepper poured two glasses of her favorite Norwegian Silvaner and returned the smile. "Why don't we revel around this glass of wine, mmm?"

"Bah, wine. Pour me some ale!" Thor's smile only grew as he sipped the wine. "This is a fine revel indeed, Friend Pepper."

The first time he'd asked her that, Friend Pepper, shall we revel, the Avengers had just finished a successful raid on a Hydra facility. Tony and Bruce had disappeared into the lab, the way they did, and Pepper had been left minding the party, the way she did.

Three or four or seventeen drinks in - it was unlike her to lose count, but she'd been more than a little irritated with Tony and drinking let her pretend she was't - she'd found herself wondering what a god's lips taste like. Several more drinks later, she'd found out.
Read more... )
aldersprig: (LynConstruction)


Today I leveled (mostly) one of my 12" deep raised beds, by digging a hole down to the bottom of the 2' stake and then hammering the thing down with a mallet. Whee! HulkLyn Smash!

Then I used the backfilled hole to plant a Horseradish, because a 2' deep hole filled with loose dirt and peat is about the nicest, deepest hole I'm gonna get for a root plant like that.

Once I'd hauled over some more compost-dirt mix and peat moss and mixed the whole thing up like a particularly giant brownie mix, I started putting in the rest of the plants, yay! (well, first I laid down ground cloth).

This is Brassica Bed One - We're not growing many nightshades this year, to defeat the blight problem we've been having, so we're overcompensating with All Dah Brassicaceae. First in is a multi-color mix of cauliflower and then a four-pack of purple cauliflower. When I go back out, a row of baby bok choy. Whee!

It helps, I suppose, that we really like EATING brassicaeae.


Image Source
aldersprig: (Aldersprig Leaves Raining)


...what "common knowledge" or assumptions about the Governors is? Are they government officials? Factory owners? Something stranger? What's their history?

In the Unicorn/Factory setting, Industrial progress is led by the Towns & Factories, which are led by Mayors and Administrators. They, in turn, are led by the mysterious Governors.


The Governors are casually spoken of like elected officials might be, although they are not elected and nobody is quite clear how they are chosen. A certain lack of curiosity about the Governor Council is very strongly encouraged, and, since they understand people, for the most part the Governors are heard about when they are passing out Governor Baskets (a seasonal treat to all City and Town-dwellers and a more Village-wide gift twice a year in the Villages). They don't govern much directly, despite the name, preferring to let most of the unpleasant work belong to the Administrators of the Factories and to the Mayors of the Towns and Cities.

Grannies especially, and those that learn from their grannies rather than from society, tend to call them Them Up On The Hill. The Governors' Conclave sits high on a hill, after all, mysterious and unapproachable.

There are theories about where the Governors come from: they are ordinary people, living ordinary lives, who sometimes vanish for a day to do Governor business. They are captains of industry. They are kings from strange lands, or Queens. Since those who serve the Governors and deliver their will to the Administrators and Mayors say nothing - indeed, claim complete innocence of any knowledge at all of their employers - it's all speculation.

What is casually known is that the ultimate decisions on laws comes from the Governors, and the plan for the cities and towns is theirs as well.




Written to [personal profile] kelkyag's prompt here. I'm past the three weeks but I'm still gonna do some more worldbuilding. Have a question? Ask it here!
aldersprig: (GIRAFFE!)
Written to [livejournal.com profile] dahob's prompt to my Giraffe Call!

Set in the world of Fae Apoc, sometime in late 2011/early 2012.

Day five. They were beginning to run low on supplies, no matter how carefully Yonit parceled everything out. Carl had a massive cut running down his calf, and it gotten infected, despite all of their care. They had spent the last four days complaining about the fae, wishing them all dead, and pacing the tiny, cramped life boat.

A massive fight between someone calling themselves Llŷr and someone who claimed to be Poseidon had swamped the Atalus in the middle of a trans-oceanic trip. Yonit had been one of twenty-two people who had made it into this lifeboat; they'd lost radio contact with the other boats two days ago.

And now - now they were running low on supplies, and the bitching about the fae was getting worse, and Carl had a fever. She'd done what she could in whispers and muttering, but there was no privacy in the little tube of a boat, and she needed to be able to concentrate.

"I guess," Carl muttered, sounding half-delirious, "you guys will have to eat me first. I hear the heart's good eating. Save that for the women."

Yonit swallowed hard. "Would you guys..." She was going to die. She was going to die one way or the other. Maybe she could manage to save them. "Would you rather be... be reduced to cannibalism? Or would you rather be on the boat with a fae? 'Cause, um... some fae have the ability to make food. And water."

She closed her eyes and waited for the shouting to start.



Having trouble picturing the lifeboat? It's this sort.


If you want more, I'm sure I can manage more of this one! Drop a tip in the tip pack below.

Giraffe Call rates apply: $1/100 words.
aldersprig: (foedus)
Not part of [community profile] trope_bingo, but a filler important to the story

First: The Tod’cxeckz’ri Paper Part I

Previous in story: The Tod’cxeckz’ri Paper Part VII


“I am sorry, I truly am. But my safety protocols do not allow me to open for you.”

“Look, I’m a biological clone of your owner. For all genetic purposes, I am Nehanani Jahnan.”

“For genetic purposes, yes. But not for my purposes.”

Covair hissed. “You are a machine. You should listen when people tell you to do something.”

“I am an artificial intelligence, not an artificial stupidity. You are not Nehanani Jahnan. Therefore, I’m not letting you in.”
Read more... )
aldersprig: (flower aldersprig)
Written to Anke's tweeted prompt: "building a shelter in the wilderness".

This follows: Nila & Tros' Introduction, A New Flower, and Outnumbered. I don't write about these guys very often <.<

Despite being Fae Apoc, no warnings apply.


The four of them had been walking for a while. To hear Nila's son Allan tell it, they had been walking forever. Finally, they had come into the mountains proper, into places which had been, before the war, relatively uninhabited.

It had been over four days since they could see the city at all, and longer than that since they could hear it. They were moving slowly, but they were moving, and after the first attackers, people were, for the most part, leaving them alone. Perhaps it showed, on their faces, that they'd stand for no threat to the children. Perhaps they just looked too poor to bother. Nila wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth.
Read more... )
aldersprig: (unspoken)
This is a sibling piece with N is for Nereid, O is for Octopi, and P is for Poinsettias, and follows after R is for Rituals.

It is set in the Things Unspoken 'verse, and was written to [personal profile] chanter_greenie's prompt here to the current Giraffe Call.


Eliška Konvalinka had been in Scheffenon for less than a month, and already she found herself learning a new language.

One of the key skills looked for in potential Informers - next to a keen eye for detail and a flawless memory - was a good ear for languages and dialects. Eliška's primary linguistic family was the West Torvaldic, of which Cornesc, the language spoken in Scheffenon, was a key example. That was one of the reasons the Informers had placed her here. In three days, she was speaking Cornesc, if not like a native, then like a long-time visitor.
Read more... )


If you want more, Eliška's story has plenty more coming! Drop a tip in the tip pack below.

Giraffe Call rates apply: $1/100 words.
aldersprig: (GIRAFFE!)
My Giraffe Call is Open!

The theme is "Survival."

For every new prompter and new donor this call gets, I'll write a setting piece of your choice. Tell your friends!

Check it Out!
aldersprig: (GIRAFFE!)
Written to [livejournal.com profile] lilfluff's prompt here to my Giraffe Call!

Set in the world of Fae Apoc, sometime in late 2011/early 2012.

Mossliden's spine was twitching. Her hands twitching. Her wings were twitching. But she raised her chin and very carefully held the white flag visible.

The Ashanevai were camped in a small, inaccessible cavern, very defensible and almost impossible to sneak up on. Mossliden approved, and she was not trying, at the moment, to sneak anywhere, but it still made her very uncomfortable.

A bearded man - humans would probably think him about 50, because he had grey in hair and beard and lines on his face - stopped her. "I know you."
Read more... )


If you want more, I'm sure I can manage more of this one! Drop a tip in the tip pack below.

Giraffe Call rates apply: $1/100 words.
aldersprig: (Winter)
The May Theme Poll is open here and will be open through this time (20:52 or so EDT) tomorrow the 15th of May.

Please vote! If you don't have a DW account, pls. vote in the comments!
aldersprig: (AylaSmile)
(I think it will soon become clear that I started watching Orphan Black last night)...

Some Time After the Apocalypse





"No." The woman -- girl, she was a girl, and Caitrin would do well to remember it -- shook her head and looked away. "No. No, that's not- I didn't- no."

Caitrin couldn't say she blamed the girl. "I'll bring the forms by for you later." Later would be soon enough.

Regine's answer when Caitrin presented her with the children was less than reassuring. "I can work with that."


It wasn't enough that she'd gotten a letter on her seventeenth birthday, telling her she was accepted to a strange school, far away from everything, everything including John, to whom she'd been engaged. It wasn't enough that accepted was a polite way of saying forced to go. It wasn't enough that the place was underground. That it looked like a book plate of someplace rich, indulgent people spent far too much money, in the days Before the End Times. It wasn't enough that she had to be here.
Read more... )
aldersprig: (CyaSmile)
Set in Austin's first year of Doomsday.

They were on a field trip when Cloverleaf was attacked.

Miss Ascha had, after four weeks at school, agreed to take the new class down to the city to see the shops. Austin was sticking close to Sianna and Sweetbriar, because Sianna stuck close to Sweetbriar and Sweetbriar knew the city already.

Everything was okay - the city was a lot bigger than the place Austin had grown up in, but it still had open space and green. No fields, of course - nobody planted crops in the middle of population centers - but it made the walls feel less like a trap.

They were at a clothes shop, Sianna picking out shirts and Sweetbriar rolling her eyes at Austin, when the alarm sounded. Miss Ascha grabbed them, holding Sweetbriar with one hand and Austin with the other - like they would run off, well, all right, they probably would - and steered all eight of them towards what she called a shelter.

"But Miss Ascha," Austin squirmed in her grip. "That's a dragon!"

She paused and looked to the sky. "No, that's a wyvern. See how it only has two legs?"

"Who's going to fight it?" He didn't squirm again, because if he squirmed, she'd make them all go underground.

"Well, probably sa'Doomsday and sa'Inazuma and the city guard, with some of the other teachers." She shrugged her shoulders the way she did when she was giving in. "All right, all of you stay very close, and we'll go where we can watch it."

The watchtower on the main street was only a floor taller than everything else, but it was plenty tall enough for them to watch the battle. Miss Ascha spoke a long long long line of Workings, encasing the whole class in some sort of clear bubble.

Austin leaned as far out as Miss Ascha's grip on the back of his kimono would allow, watching the way Professor Inaauma and Professor Doomsday - and the rest of them, of course - attacked the wyvern. It was like something out of a story, all broad gestures and shouted words, long streaks of lightning and rumbles where the walls themselves seemed to attack the wyvern.

Austin's nose was pressed to the bubble and, next to him, so was Sweetbriar's, Miss Ascha's hand firm on the back of their uniforms. The wyvern went down, and they cheered until their throats were raw.

"I'm gonna be a samurai," he told Sweetbriar.

"Damn right you are. And I'm gonna be a Valkyrie."
aldersprig: (KinkBingo2)
First: A beginning of a story which obnoxiously cuts off just before the description,
Previous: In Which Amrit is Gagged Again.

please note: I am posting two chapters at once.

Fae Apoc, approx. now.

Content Warnings: This setting, although not this ficlet, contains rape, mind control, and dubious consent situations.

This particular story contains kidnapping and slavery, bondage, violence, and will eventually contain Stockholm Syndrome.

Read more... )
aldersprig: (KinkBingo2)
First: A beginning of a story which obnoxiously cuts off just before the description,
Previous: Amrit Splits Wood.

Fae Apoc, approx. now.

Content Warnings: This setting, although not this ficlet, contains rape, mind control, and dubious consent situations.

This particular story contains kidnapping and slavery, bondage, violence, and will eventually contain Stockholm Syndrome.

Read more... )

Next: http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/939539.html
aldersprig: (Shooting star)
Written to [livejournal.com profile] ellenmillion's prompt here to my Giraffe Call!


The trip had been, by turns, terrifying, nauseating, and strange, but, stuck in the cargo hold, there had been nothing they could do but wait it out. The door to the rest of the ship did not open from the inside, and the food was delivered via a very well-designed dumbwaiter that would not move upwards if laden with more than it had come down with.

The measures that had been designed to keep involuntary passengers under control very likely saved their life when the freighter encountered trouble. The first they knew of it was the sound like metal screaming and the sudden sensation of moving very quickly in the wrong direction.
Read more... )


If you want more - and I definitely have more in mind for this one! - drop a tip in the tip pack below.

Giraffe Call rates apply: $1/100 words.
aldersprig: drawing of the author (LynLyn)
I write a lot - much in established universes, some in one-off settings. Below is an index of my universes; each 'verse has its own landing page with an index of stories within.

The Faerie Apocalypse is liveblogged at [personal profile] faeapoclive, [tumblr.com profile] faeapoclive, and [twitter.com profile] faeapoclive. What what happens when the gods return to our world.
Stranded World (LJ Link), modern fantasy seen through the eyes of 4 siblings who work the webs of the world, each in their own way.
Reiassan (LJ Link), high fantasy in a world just recovering from centuries of battle.
Edally Academy (LJ Link), Steampunk Boarding School in the world of Reiassan.
Tir na Cali (LJ Link); technically modern fantasy, alternate-history timeline, primarily lifestyle-kink erotica.
Faerie Apocalypse (LJ Link), a dystopic modern and post-modern fantasy/apoc world. Faeries and gods live among us, disguised as humans, their culture underground.
Addergoole (LJ Link) is a school within the Faerie Apocalypse setting.
Doomsday is a school created by graduates of Addergoole, generations after the Faerie Apoc.
Vas' World (LJ Link): the team was sent to explore the planet for colonization. They could never have guessed what they'd find.
Dragons Next Door (LJ Link)is a fun high-fantasy-in-the-burbs setting with a few good-with-ketchup crunchy dark bits.
Facets of Dusk (LJ Link) is a mystery waiting to be revealed; come along for the show!
The Planners (LJ Link): When the Apocalypse came, they were prepared. Very Prepared.
Unicorn/Factory (LJ) of the costs of progress.
The Aunt Family (LJ) - a mysterious family with some very strange magical artifacts.
Space Accountant (LJ) All Genique wanted was a nice vacation.
Shadow Rebellion (LJ) It all started with the shadows moving...
Science! (Lj) Why haven't Mad Scientists taken over the world yet?
Fairy Town There's something about the city. Something in the water, maybe?
Inner Circle (LJ) Getting to the Inner Circle can take a lifetime - or cost you your life.
Things Unspoken (LJ) - The Empire encompasses many things. Some are better not spoken of. Or to.
Setting Nursery - these one-off stories may blossom into settings some day (incomplete)

Occasionally I open up a call for prompts; the Giraffe Call's landing page is here and on LJ.

I hosted a 30-days of flash fiction meme: its landing page is here (LJ Link)

My Donor landing page is here (and on LJ); you can tip (tips go in a general pool to sponsor longer stories, voted on monthly), sponsor an already-written story, or commission a story to be written. Or you can become a Patreon Patron and unlock even more fiction!

Want more? There's always more to read!

What Follows,
an apocalyptic anthology:
How would an Immortal deal with
the End Times? The world will
inevitably come stumbling into
apocalypse, and They will be
there to witness it.

 photo ShiftingHearts_zps419ea943.jpg
Shifting Hearts,
a therian anthology:
It is said that the eyes are the windows
to the soul, but what if the soul that looks
back isn't as human as you first thought?


Addergoole, a completed webserial

Edally Academy, a new webserial

Tales for the Sugar Cat, my ebook

Kazkah Press, a flash-fiction webzine
aldersprig: (AylaSmile)
"I have homework," Kendra informed Ofir.

She had orders to inform him about homework. She could lift her chin up and be firm about that. She had to do her homework.

Why, she had no idea. But in all the myriad of stupid orders he'd given her, she liked that one more than most.

"All right. Do you need the library?"

Her own copies of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone, Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, and Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban were tucked away in the box of stuff she'd hidden in her old room. She hoped the library had copies. She knew there were computers there she could use. "Yes, please. I need to do some reading."

"Fine. I'll walk you there. Get your stuff."

It took only a few minutes for Kendra to be settled into the library, with Ofir's firm and unneeded order not to leave until he came to get her. She settled the books beside the computer and started writing.

    S... S... Solange Carrieter sat in the corner of the compartment of the Hogwarts Express...

    She had only been in London for a few months when her Aunt Taffy had given her the letter. "You should have gone to Esterwind, of course, but with your parents missing, I arranged things so that you could go to Hogwarts. I think you'll like it there."

    Solange looked around again. Magic was real. She'd always known her parents were hiding secrets, but this... but magic...

    A kind-looking boy with a round face peered into her compartment. "Oh, hullo. Have you seen my toad?"



Possibly the first in a series. Kendra and Ofir are characters in Addergoole; the rest is obviously J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter.
aldersprig: (GIRAFFE!)
Written to [livejournal.com profile] rix_scaedu's prompt here, and in re. a conversation [livejournal.com profile] cluudle & I were having about BDSM AU's.

New/unnamed 'verse.


What do you do when you're being hunted?(8)

Aisleigh was making spaghetti and meatballs when she found the boy in her cupboard.

He was skinny, probably too skinny, and he was staring at her with wide, terrified eyes. He'd probably thought he was safe in the canning pantry. Certainly, everything in there had enough dust on it.

"What are you--" She dropped her voice as she heard the unmistakable sounds of the Force outside. Working on an instinct she hadn't had to use in a long time, she closed the pantry door, taking only the tomato sauce she'd been looking for.

The Force was moving from door to door. She could hear their radios, the hearty chatter that was half-casual, half-intimidation, the way their boots hit on the sidewalk. Her hands were shaking; she reminded herself, carefully, that she was a legal citizen now. That she obeyed the law, paid her taxes, and owned her home outright. There was very little the Force could do to her, and she had cameras installed on her front and back door and the large windows, just to be sure they remembered that.
Read more... )


If you want more - and I'm certain I can come up with more of these two! - drop a tip in the tip pack below.

Giraffe Call rates apply: $1/100 words.
aldersprig: (GIRAFFE!)
(aren't I always?)

I tried a few images, but nothing looked quite right.

What I'm looking for is something a little more subtle than my Kink Bingo Icons - something like a really pretty lock and key, or the back of a collar - something that says "D/s" without screaming it?

Yeah, that's really vague.

Help?
aldersprig: (GIRAFFE!)
Giraffe Call Open!!

The call will be open for *one week* from time of posting, and the theme is Survival.

Leave me your prompts about surviving - emotional survival, physical survival, survivalists, human-vs-nature, whatever you want. Any setting of mine or no setting at all. It just has to involve "survival."

Leave a prompt, and I will write a micro/flash-fic. Leave as many prompts as you want; I will answer at least one for each person (although I may use more than one prompt in a fic).

I almost forgot! For every NEW DONOR or NEW PROMPTER (please tell me when donating/prompting if you are new!), I will write one SETTING PIECE (i.e., Demifiction, a piece of historical fact, you name it) for a poll-chosen setting/question.

Current count: 1 new prompter

Want more words, or just really like something you read? Drop some money in the tip pack!







Edited to add: OR add paid time to my DW account. Out of time again!

For every $1 you donate, I will write 75-100 words on the Giraffe story of your choice. Donate more than $1, and I'll write a second fic to one of your prompts.

And the more money donated, the more I'll write!




At $25, T. & I get take-out. Thai, I think, though it may be Indian.

at $40, I will commission a piece of character art from a crowdfunded artist

At $50, I will write an extra fic for everyone.

At $75, three prompters chosen at random will get an extra 500-word story written to their prompt

At $100, I'll write a 1500-word story based on the input of everyone who prompted for this call.

At $125, I'll add three more 500-word stories, chosen at random from all prompters.


Have fun! Prompt!
aldersprig: (Cya Surprise)
Sianna at 15 looks rather like this: https://speakerdata.s3.amazonaws.com/photo/image/825943/uQVYYrPz.jpeg

Except that she's gotten a lizard Change. The markings on her face look like this - https://www.flickr.com/photos/78845654@N07/7988389402 - although her base skin tone is still brown. Her scale colors are more like this - http://pixdaus.com/colorful-lizard-with-guest-animal-colors-butterfly/items/view/548225/ and travel down onto her chest as with http://chiaram-bodydesign.deviantart.com/art/Lizard-Woman-II-438180425

She's generally wearing a thin sweater cut low - a wide scoop neck - to show off her scales, often in bright pink or red. Her headband usually matches her sweater.
aldersprig: (Kink-Spreadsheet)





(I used the "column to text" feature in Excel.)
aldersprig: (foedus)
To fill square two-three (presumed dead) on my card for [community profile] trope_bingo.

First: The Tod’cxeckz’ri Paper Part I

Previous in Trope Bingo: The Tod’cxeckz’ri Paper Part VI


“I am sorry, I truly am. But my safety protocols do not allow me to open for you.”

“Look, I’m a biological clone of your owner. For all genetic purposes, I am Nehanani Jahnan.”

“For genetic purposes, yes. But not for my purposes.”

Covair hissed. “You are a machine. You should listen when people tell you to do something.”

“I am an artificial intelligence, not an artificial stupidity. You are not Nehanani Jahnan. Therefore, I’m not letting you in.”
Read more... )
aldersprig: (Ruan)
The Commission Post (as reblogged by me)

Currently in the works are Edora, Jahnan, and Yira.

Soooo?
aldersprig: (unspoken)
From [personal profile] thnidu's prompt here in honor of the Things Unspoken landing page

They called it the Unburnt Tree. In Corthwin, which had burned thrice in known history, and, from the records in the places not yet rebuilt, appeared to have burned at least three times before they began counting such things, there stood an Ash Tree. It was unbelievably tall - the tallest thing in the city - and incredibly wide. And nobody built within a hundred meters of its spread in any direction.

They called it the Unburnt Tree for good reason. By all indications, the tree had been growing for longer than Corthwin had stood. In a city which had burned so many times, in a land where massive forest fires had once ranged, the Unburnt Tree stood. When the Empire had taken over the nation of which Corthwin was a major city, the Unburnt Tree stood, unharmed, untouched, even when the catapults flung burning pitch over the walls. When an earlier Emperor had, soon before he was quietly helped to the next life, sought to eliminate sources of "superstition" throughout the Empire and ordered the Unburnt Tree cut down, the axes had bounced off.

What was more, scions of the tree or seedlings grown from its seeds, all of those that survived to be saplings or larger took on the properties of their ancestor. Now, surrounding Corthwin, there grew a wall of trees, some no thicker than a finger, but all of them bearing the promise: the world might burn, but these trees would not. And, what's more, all those who sheltered under their leaves would be safe.

The Unburnt tree could not protect all of Corthwin. But with its children, it could protect the people.
aldersprig: (Cali)
Edit: Forgot to cut for content- slavery, unwilling, and revenge-slavery.

Read more... )
aldersprig: (KinkBingo2)
First: Captive of the Night Witch

For the "Do up whatever story/stories suit your fancy or for whomever most wants/needs 'em." commission and the poll here
.



The minions had all been chased off. The guards had been sent to guard, to lookat some place that was not here. The Night Witch had set wards, and then warded the wards.

Candor had waited, although his entire body had ached. He had held still, although the chains were digging into his skin. He had been silent, although that was less by choice than by gag.

When all that was done, the Night Witch stood in front of Candor. "You might as well stand up." She had overcome her shock, it seemed. At least, now she sounded far more amused than concerned.

Candor found he was far more cramped than he'd planned for. He had to flex against the chains and then pull, letting the cheap metal cut into his skin, before he could manage what she'd suggested, and stood.

She looked the same as he remembered. Her outfit, blood-red robe over white kidskin, was a new affectation, but she'd always been pleased by playing dress-up. Her smile, a bitter little thing that held little warmth, that he remembered very well indeed.

He knew she was getting a similar look over him. Hard to see his smile with the gag still jammed in his mouth, but they'd brought him naked, cutting his clothes out around the chains.

He was muscle and scar, tattoos and piercings and a red mohawk of hair that fell down his back like a mane.

"Hello, darling." The Night Witch smiled at him, the hero. "Have you come to kill me?"

Candor took a moment to stretch, letting everything settle into place. It wouldn't hurt her to be a little nervous. She had always been so damn certain of everything. He took his time working over the buckle on the gag. That part hadn't been his idea. Let her wait.

"You've racked up quite a reputation here." He let his eyes slide over the bone-powder road, over the twisted edifice rising behind her.

"I have." She let her hands settle loose at her sides. He recognized her combat pose, even after all these years. "It keeps trespassers away, and it lets me get stuff done without interference. You've racked up your own reputation, too."

"I have." He rolled his shoulders. "It lets me get stuff done without interference. Until some sorceress' minions take me captive."

"They thought I'd enjoy the present. It seems some of them buy into my propaganda a little too much - or maybe it's just all those would-be heroes that come to try to kill me." The fingers of her left hand twitched. "Have you come to kill me, Candor?"

He had never been very good at deception. That was her purview. "No, Guile." He shook his head slowly. "No. There are many things I came for, but none of them were to kill you."




If you want more - and I'm pretty sure I could make more of this - drop a tip in the tip... handcuffs ;-)


aldersprig: (Cya Surprise)
End of Year 6 of the Addergoole School.

And now to bed.


He didn't release her so much as he graduated.

Cynara didn't need to pack, and she had no interest in watching Dysmas get his Name. "I'll make dinner," she'd told him, as if she thought he would be coming back to her, to things the way they had been. It was not a lie, but he had never ordered her to not dissemble. And she was cy'Drake.

She finished dinner and packed it up, stacking it tidily on top of her chests. Her father had made those chests. Dysmas had either never cared enough to look in them, or he'd never bothered to look past the first layer. It was unlikely he would have let her keep the weapons, if he'd really looked. He might have noticed how murderous she sometimes got.

She felt the bond break as she finished packing up dinner. She caught her breath, just for a moment. Professor Drake had said it would feel unpleasant. "Rather like falling of a ten-story building," he'd said. She thought he'd underestimated the impact.

She lifted her chin. She was no longer oro'Dysmas. The collar was locked but it was easy enough to Work. Tempero was her best Word, after all, even if Unutu was not by far a favorite. She took it with her; it had been a gift, after all, and with a little bit of effort, it might make a suitable memento.

There was pain. There was a lot of pain. But it was unimportant. It was something that had happened to Cynara oro'Dysmas. She didn't have to be that anymore. She walked, slowly, as if under a huge weight, carrying behind her the two trunks that carried all her possessions. And supper.

It seemed to take her a long time to get to the room that had once been hers. It didn't matter. There was nobody else in the halls. And as she went, her back grew straighter and her chin rose. She was Cya, Cya cy'Drake, and she didn't have to cry about the prince that had turned out to be a toad. Because, after all, she'd never been the sort of girl to be squeamish about slimy things.
aldersprig: (AldersGrove)
To [livejournal.com profile] wyld_dandelyon's prompt to my H/C prompt here

Mid-Autumn Year 8 of the Addergoole School.


Regine looked at her files again, hoping for some other information than what she was reading. She flipped through, pulling older files, staring at the information before putting those files, too, aside.

"Auriel--" she began, and stopped herself. Her throat was tight.

Mike took her hand. "Auriel died young, Regine. We don't know what would have happened."

"He lived to be twenty." Her first son have lived long enough that they had known he would not Change.

"Maybe it comes with the Change." Mike fingered the folders gently. Liliandra was his daughter, too. And while Agatha was... something... there was absolutely no denying that the girl who called herself Lolly was insane. "What are you going to do?"

Auriel wasn't insane. But she couldn't hope her children wouldn't Change. "I don't know." Her voice cracked. "I don't know."
aldersprig: (Cya Surprise)
Posted here.

This is a story of Doomsday and Fae Apoc, written much-belatedly for January, whose theme was "I'm writing a lot of Doomsday."

The village Damson had grown up in had three scars which were never painted over, never repaired, never hidden, and it had four portraits in the Village Center which, unlike the portraits of Mayors and short-term heros, were never moved or rotated to less prominent positions.

read on!

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