aldersprig: (GIRAFFE!)
Welcome to my summer giraffe Call!

The theme today is "Green Thumbs"

Please feel free to leave as many prompts as come to your mind!

You may prompt whether or not you prompted in round one.

I will write a short flash fiction or the beginning of a story (approx 150-300 words) for the first twelve prompters who post their prompts within the next 48 hours.

I will start posting stories around 8:30 a.m. Eastern time and continue until I run out of prompters/until 9:30 p.m., and then pick up again tomorrow morning with whatever's left.


I'll write a second (or more) story for you if:
  • You tip or pledge to my patreon
  • You are a new prompter - don't forget to tell me!
  • Your signal boost brings in a new prompter

If you qualify for a second-plus story, I will also waive the twelve-prompter limit and the 48-hour limit for you.

Please remember to tell me if you are a new prompter, AND what/who brought you to this Giraffe Call!
If your Paypal or Patreon account name does not match your posting/prompting account name, please remember to leave a note letting me know you tipped/pledged.

Any tip you leave will buy you more words, at my reduced Giraffe Call rate of $5/300 words.


In Addition, if I receive $25 in tips, $10 in new Pledges, or 10 new followers between LiveJournal and Dreamwidth - or a combination thereof - I will run the Giraffe Call for a third day, with a third theme, and a third chance to prompt! The prompt options for tomorrow are currently tied at "Impossible Ideas" and "Summer ritual celebrations."

aldersprig: (GIRAFFE!)
The $25 tip/commission level was reached!

There will be a second day of prompts with a second prompt theme!

I will open the prompt call on 7/5/2016 at 9 p.m. and keep it open for 24 hours, or until I have reached 12 prompters (with the same caveats for donors, new prompters, and those whose signal boost brings in new prompters as before).

If you don't think you'll make it, drop me a line now and I'll hold you a slot.

The theme will be....

Well, if you haven't voted in the theme poll yet, please stop in http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1129688.html and vote. Right now, it's a 3-way tie.

Yay!

aldersprig: (GIRAFFE!)
Welcome to my summer giraffe Call!

The theme today is "When the best answer is FIRE"

Please feel free to leave as many prompts as come to your mind!

The Prompt Call is now closed to everyone except: tippers, new Patreons, people who have never
prompted in a Giraffe Call of mine before, and people whose signal boost brought me a new person. However, if we cross a combined new friend/new Patron/tip threshold by 9 p.m. 6/27, there will be a second day of prompt-calling with a new theme!


I will write a short flash fiction or the beginning of a story (approx 150-300 words) for the first twelve prompters who post their prompts within the next 24 hours.

I will start posting stories around 7:30 a.m. Eastern time and continue until I run out of prompters/until 9:30 p.m., and then pick up again tomorrow morning with whatever's left.


I'll write a second (or more) story for you if:
  • You tip or pledge to my patreon
  • You are a new prompter - don't forget to tell me!
  • Your signal boost brings in a new prompter

If you qualify for a second-plus story, I will also waive the twelve-prompter limit and the 24-hour limit for you.

Please remember to tell me if you are a new prompter, AND what/who brought you to this Giraffe Call!
If your Paypal or Patreon account name does not match your posting/prompting account name, please remember to leave a note letting me know you tipped/pledged.

Any tip you leave will buy you more words, at my reduced Giraffe Call rate of $5/300 words.


In Addition, if I receive $25 in tips, $10 in new Pledges, or 10 new followers between LiveJournal and Dreamwidth - or a combination thereof - I will run the Giraffe Call for a second day, with a second theme, and a second chance to prompt! The prompt options for tomorrow are currently tied at "Green Thumbs," "Impossible Ideas," and "Summer ritual celebrations."

aldersprig: (GIRAFFE!)
There will be a one-plus day Giraffe Call on Monday, June 27th!
(beginning with 24 hours and going forward as per tips, signal boosts, and new follows).

This call will need one or more themes!

Poll #17531 Summer Giraffe Call Theme Poll
Open to: Registered Users, detailed results viewable to: All, participants: 14


What themes would you like and prompt for?

View Answers

Love, Lust, and Obsession
4 (28.6%)

Drama Queens & Divas
2 (14.3%)

Green Thumbs
8 (57.1%)

Impossible Ideas
8 (57.1%)

Senses (including senses beyond/other than the best-known 5)
7 (50.0%)

Plants and a plant approach to growth
7 (50.0%)

When the best answer is FIRE
9 (64.3%)

Underwater Exploration
5 (35.7%)

Summer ritual celebrations
8 (57.1%)

The end of a dying town
3 (21.4%)

What's on the other side of...?
5 (35.7%)

Freaks, Geeks, and passing-normals
7 (50.0%)

Independance, freedom, and the lack thereof
4 (28.6%)

Are you likely to prompt in a prompt call?

View Answers

Yes
4 (33.3%)

No
0 (0.0%)

Squeak
4 (33.3%)

Maybe
4 (33.3%)



Thanks to [livejournal.com profile] rix_scaedu, [personal profile] alatefeline, and [livejournal.com profile] sauergeek for theme ideas!
aldersprig: (KinkBingo2)
Written to [personal profile] clare_dragonfly's suggestion of a continuation for this piece, written for the Dungeon and Cave call in 2014.

"Babe, I'm strong enough for whatever you want." He could taste the beer on his belch. Could she smell it?

She wrinkled her nose. Yes. And no; she shook her head. "I don't think you are."

The woman walked away from Craig, the turn of her heel dismissing him. Craig let out a breath slowly, as inaudibly as he could, and did not turn to watch her.

Still, even through the noise of the bar, he could hear Rick's answer. Maybe Rick was. Maybe Rick would walk out the other side intact. Craig didn't know. He barely knew Rick to talk sports with him, much less...

...well, there were things you didn't talk about with your buddies, and there were things you didn't talk about at all. That lesson, Craig hadn't needed to learn the hard way.

With any luck, there'd only be the one lesson he'd had to learn hard: When a certain kind of woman thinks about challenging you...

...don't let it get to the challenge. Don't even let it get to the thinking, if you can avoid it. Be pitiful, be lamentable, be ridiculous. But don't let her challenge you.

Want to see more? Drop a tip in, ah, the tip handcuffs:

aldersprig: (GIRAFFE!)
Written to Kuro-Neko's commissioned continuation of Survival, of Fae Apoc, sometime in late 2011/early 2012.

Three, two... “Are you saying...” Ross Wetherschilde spoke slowly, as if not quite wanting to get to the end of his sentence. “...that there is a ‘fae’ onboard this life raft?”

“Of course that’s what she’s freaking saying, you freaking nincompoop!” Tanya Jones spoke fast enough for three Ross Wetherschildes. “The question is, how does she know! And who?”

“I think it’s obvious, don’t you?” Yonrit thought she knew every voice on the raft, but this one made her open her eyes: small, sardonic, and very quiet. Aah, the slender woman who had barely spoken since the crash, of course. “There’s one way to know for certain that someone is fae.”

She met Yonrit’s eyes; Yonrit didn’t look away. Around them, the conversation seemed to roil and bubble.

“...stab ‘em with rowan, that’s how!”

“Iron, you hang a horseshoe on your doorway.”
Read more... )
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: (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: (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: (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: (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: (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: (lock and key)
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... )


Next: http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1272291.html
aldersprig: (AldersGrove)
Sooo, I found in my archives that I had forgotten a donation <.< Specifically, one to do whatever I want or needs continuing.

But I like making you guys happy, so I'm going to open a poll now and leave it open until the end of February or until something is a clear clear clear winner. What stories should I continue?

I'll write approx. 1250 words to the first-place winner, 850 to the second-place, and 400 to the third.

If you don't have a DW account, leave your vote in the comments.

Poll #16476 A Poll!
Open to: Registered Users, detailed results viewable to: All, participants: 6


What Story(-ies) Should I Continue w/ this Donation?

View Answers

Time Out http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/842095.html
0 (0.0%)

Live In http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/839656.html
1 (16.7%)

2 Rocks & all the Pebbles http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/839183.html
3 (50.0%)

Knowing Where His Place Is http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/837569.html
1 (16.7%)

Tricked out for Her Pleasure http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/837257.html
0 (0.0%)

Prince Rodegard http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/831779.html
3 (50.0%)

A treatise on sexual aggression... http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/833936.html
0 (0.0%)

Not Rehabilitation http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/829184.html
0 (0.0%)

A Rescue of Sorts http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/820052.html
4 (66.7%)

Cuckoo's Egg http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/828509.html
0 (0.0%)

Captive of the Night Witch http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/828377.html
3 (50.0%)

Bring to the Table http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/827633.html
0 (0.0%)

Natural Prey http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/824918.html
0 (0.0%)

Other Duties as Needed http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/824469.html
0 (0.0%)

Putting Down The Burden http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/821974.html
0 (0.0%)

Strong Enough? http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/821122.html
0 (0.0%)

Aftercare http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/820320.html
0 (0.0%)

aldersprig: (Tairiekie)
http://itsamellama.dreamwidth.org/96968.html

Okay, so I was thinking - the last giraffe call (http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/819607.html) made enough for an art!

And Mel has art options in her tipping thresholds.

Sooo... there's a lot of "more please" stories that came out of this Call. Ideas? I was thinking either the young princeling/his older Mentor; the ace prince & his ace rescuer, or the princess with her Very Very Angry Captive


http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/tag/giraffecall
aldersprig: (KinkBingo2)
Lady Castilla came home late from a tiring night at the office to find her assistant Geordi still on the phones.

She waited patiently until he hung up the call, taking the time to strip off her business-wear and slide into a robe and her favorite slippers. Only when she heard the click of the phone did she click the leash onto the back of Geordi's collar.

"How long have you been on the phone today?"

He may have been property by law, but he was her most valuable assistant. There was no groveling in his voice when he answered her. "Twelve hours."

"Don't you think it's time for a break?"

Now, he hesitated. "There's still the calls for the Mansfield problem to deal with..."
Read more... )
aldersprig: (KinkBingo2)
It had started out horribly.

Sara had allowed Adrian to move in with her out of something like compassion and something like building-good-karma: he'd ended up in a bad spot with his last roommate, so when he lost his job he had no place to stay, no savings, not even a futon. Sara was doing pretty well, so easy enough for her to let Adrian sleep on her futon.

And that was fine, but Sara wasn't used to having other people in her space, and Adrian wasn't used to not having something to do, so for the first three weeks all they did was yell at each other (mostly Sara yelled) and pester each other (mostly Adrian pestered).

It was a disaster, and all their friends knew it. Until Sara, absolutely done with everything, turned around and spat out, "if you're that bored, do the dishes!"

And he did.

And then he came back to ask "what next?" and Sara gave him the laundry - and then dinner prep for the next day, and then, when he was still asking her for things to do, suggested he scrub the bathroom floor.

When he took even that without complaint, she took him out and bought him ice cream.

After a couple weeks of this, Adrian stopped asking Sara and just did the things that needed doing. After a couple more weeks, Sara found herself relying on it. If Adrian did the dishes, she could write for twenty more minutes. If he did the laundry, she could steal ten minutes at the coffee shop. If he cleaned the floor... it was clean for the first time since she'd bought the apartment.

And then Adrian got a job.




If you'd like to see more of this story, I bet there's more to be written. Just drop a tip in the the tip handcuffs:



Written to [personal profile] perfectworry's prompt
.


next: http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/865782.html
aldersprig: (KinkBingo2)
Rock, Hard, Now What?

“How do we get through this? I’ll tell you how. Let me go. Then I can get out of this damn place, and I’ll be just fine.” He flexed against the chains, digging their edges into his skin. “You can fend for yourself.”

“Not going to happen. Letting you go is suicide for me - and the king’s soldiers will hunt you down.”

He growled. “Damnit, woman, I’m not going to bow and scrape for a year like some slave.”

It didn’t seem to bear pointing out that, technically, he was a slave. “Nobody’s asking you to.”

“Sure as blazes sounds like it.” He shifted his weight from one knee to the other.

“No.” The princess shook her head slowly. “I am asking you to agree to live in my suite for a year and to refrain from killing people - especially me - for that year.”

“While being your slave.”
Read more... )



Written to [personal profile] rix_scaedu's commissioned continuation.

If you want more of this story - and this one could go on for a while!! - drop a tip in, ah, the tip handcuffs:


More: here
aldersprig: (Girey)
Egarengar had known things when he married Inatalana.

He had known that it was a political match first, a financial match second, and a match of compatible personalities third.

He had known that her title was so much higher than his as to be on a different ladder altogether, and that they were distance enough related that, if they had been goats, they would not have even had the same colors in their coats. He had known that she was a daughter of the Emperor, and that they would be expected to have many, many children.

He had known that he was stepping into a subordinate role, but one where he would be respected and honored, treated as a peer and not as an employee.
Read more... )
aldersprig: (Cali)
The first thing Lady Stefania did when she bought Joe was take him to a cosmetic witch, who grew out the hair on his head - kept buzzed, but black and luxurious when let to grow - until it reached his knees, and removed all the hair on the rest of his body.

The second thing that Lady Stefania did was exchange the plastic-and-steel slave shop collar for a torque of gold and silver and matching shackles. By the time Joe swum out from under the be-happy-be-obedient drugs the slave shop had doped him with, he was bejeweled, shackled, pierced in places he didn't want to thing about, and lying on his stomach on a bed covered in silk.

It took him a few minutes to realize that the blanket around him was actually his hair, and a little longer to realize that he was actually shackled this way. By the time he thought to panic, he'd also realized that there was a naked elf sitting next to him.

Not elf, he realized, after a moment of confusion. She was just an amazingly elfin woman, pointed nose, pointed chin, and a slender body that couldn't be more than five feet tall when she was standing.

Which she wasn't. She was actually - his butt clenched - in the process of straddling him, her hands on his shoulders. Joe bucked, but that only made her chuckle.

"I didn't expect a rodeo ride... but I'll take it if that's what you want." Her fingers splayed across his back, pushing into the tissue, startling Joe. "I was thinking I'd give you a bit of a massage - if you hold still. And maybe braid your hair." Her other hand stroked through the blanket across Joe's back, pushing it to one side. "Long hair and bare skin is such a fun combination, and your hair - and skin - are both so pretty."




Written to [personal profile] wyld_dandelyon's Prompt.

Set in the Tír na Cali 'verse; Cali has a landing page here - http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/22621.html.

If you want more of this story - and I'm sure I could come up with more of this! - drop a tip in, ah, the tip handcuffs:

aldersprig: a close up of an alder leaf (Leaf)
Previously: Prince Rodegard Visits the Imperial Capital

~~


Prince Rodegard was staring open-mouthed at Edora. She watched him implacably, pretending that she did not care about his reactions.

Said reactions, as she cataloged them, appeared to be, in order: confusion, worried understanding, denial, more confusion, angry understanding, angrier denial, and then a further state of confusion.

He might be a spoiled childish specimen of a Prince, but he was still, after all, a prince. After a few minutes, he cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, Dame Edora. I must have misheard you.”

She contemplated her answer for a moment. “It’s Princess, actually.”

“...what?” This time, even his manners failed him.
Read more... )
aldersprig: (Cali)

...and how to bring them to heel, or how I learned to stop worrying and love their resistance."(34)


An excerpt

...I had owned Robert for five days at this point. He had, just to remind you:
* Broken a window and bent a safety grate
* Burnt down the tool shed in the back
* Beaten up three other slaves
* Broken my nose (accidentally)

He had also withstood:
* isolation
* limited meals
* scorn and verbal shaming
* physical punishment, including the belt
* and more isolation.
Read more... )




Written to [personal profile] kc_obrien's Prompt, also the title of this piece.

If you want more, oh, there's got to be a lot more.

Just drop a tip in the the tip handcuffs:


aldersprig: (KinkBingo2)
The Dungeon & Cave Prompt Call is at $94!

That's just $6 from the next incentive level and $26 from the rug! So if you've been sitting on an "oh I'd love a little more of that story," now's the time. $6 will get you 600 more words. $26 will get you a whopping 2,600 more words.



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

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

At $50, I will write an extra fic for everyone. One prompter chosen at random will get an extra 500-word story. Reached!

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

At $100, three more prompters chosen at random will get an extra 500-word story.

At $120, I get a rug for my cave!

As an extra incentive - if we get to $120 I will then, in December (Nano is coming), write an ADDITIONAL 2600-word story continuation, chosen by reader poll.

Looking for stories to see if you want something continued? Use the Giraffcall tag!

(The cuffs are the tip jar)
aldersprig: (KinkBingo2)
Written to [personal profile] lilfluff's prompt.

"I've always wanted to see the Imperial Capital." Prince Rodegard bounced in his seat, ignoring the armed guards surrounding him and acting not nearly the age Edora had been assured he was. "Is it as shining and bright and tall as everyone says it is?"

He was a hostage, technically. The entire railway car was filled with people devoted to getting him - and, by proxy, Edora - back to the Imperial Capital, where he would remain as assurance of his royal mother's good behavior. But the young prince had volunteered, and, from the looks of things, hardly understood the situation he was in.

Well, it was Edora's job to instruct him, as well as to protect, guide, and direct him. "Well, as with anything, your Royal Highness," she replied, in the language of the Capital and of her childhood, "there are many facets to the Capital, and some of them shine more than others."
Read more... )
aldersprig: (KinkBingo2)
Drausus the warlord lived in an impenetrable fort on the top of an unclimbable cliff and ruled over his territory with an iron fist and a stone heart. Or, at least, he had.

Drausus commanded the farmers to grow enough for themselves and then enough for him, and those that did not, he put to work in the mines, pulling out steel and gold. Or, at least, he had.

He took his pick of the finest of the young people to warm his bed and keep him company and if they were lucky, when he was done with them he'd arrange a marriage with a member of his personal army. Or, at least, he had.

The woman, the hero, had climbed the unclimbable cliff, bypassed the well-bribed army, penetrated the impenetrable fort, and beaten the unbeatable warlord. She had done the first with tools he had never seen, the second with stealth he hadn't thought of, the third with a little bit of both - and the fourth, Drausus had to believe was witchcraft and dishonesty and nothing more. She couldn't have been that good at everything.
Read more... )
aldersprig: (BookGlasses)
Previous: The Rescue? Continues?
First: A Rescue, of Sorts
.

“Was it really that obvious?” Daxton let the mercenary woman half-guide and half-help him into the hunting cabin. He couldn't have run away if he'd wanted to and, concerned as she was with the ransom, she'd probably catch him. “I mean, that I'm not interested in...” He couldn't bring himself to finish the sentence the way she had, interested in rutting. “Um. Bedroom games? I thought I hid it pretty well.”

She opened the door with her foot. “You flirted with married women, grandmothers, great-great-grandmothers, and the occasional woman devoted to the gods. In other words, you were immensely friendly with anyone who would never take you up on it.”

“...You really noticed that?”

“I was looking.”

“I never noticed you.

“Well, you're not supposed to, are you? I mean, you're the Duke's son and I'm a mercenary. But I had reason, too.” She helped Daxton to a chair - a surprisingly sturdy one, that looked big enough to hold a bear comfortably. “I'm going to see to the horses. I'll be just a moment.”
Read more... )
aldersprig: (Cali)
"Anything else, Mistress?" The slave, tall and dressed very handsomely, bowed to Lady Lillian.

"That will be all, thank you, Brandon." She dismissed him with a flap of her hand, negligent and casual.

"As you wish, Mistress." He bowed again and retreated to the cushion in the corner of the solarium.

Lady Lillian turned back to her guest, an older Baroness from the next Barony over. "Isn't he a dear?"

"He seems awfully - placid, I suppose, for an American." Lady Rose pursed her lips. "Is he wearing a shock collar?"

"Nothing like that, no, of course not." Lady Lillian giggled. "No, he's a volunteer."

"A... what? I didn't think we had those."

"Oh, yes. Morganna's been working with a few underground organizations. Gay people, transgender, submissive... they can't be who they are, in America."
Read more... )
aldersprig: (KinkBingo2)
The Night Witch was, everyone knew, evil and dark and murderous and, above all, perhaps, terrifying. She ate people alive, it was said; she had paved the walk to her lair with the bones of her victims, many ground into powder over the years - decades - she had resided there. She held the entire small nation in terror, and worked great evil from her mountainside abode. The trees were twisted, it was said, for miles in every direction.

Up that mountainside, now, Candor was being dragged, past the trees, twisted and stunted and very very creepy, past the caves where the monsters were said to live, down the path of bone, which was, indeed, white and in some places powdered. They had him chained hand and foot, tricep and thigh, until he was more of a ball of chain than a Hero. They had him on a sled, dragging him up the bone path, past the black trees with their blood-red leaves. And they were taking him as a prisoner to the Night Witch.

And Candor was smiling.

Nobody could see it, of course. He was gagged - nobody would take one of his kind prisoner without a gag - and his face was pressed against his knees. The smile was more of a figure of speech than a physical expression, but Candor had stopped struggling some miles back, feigning tiredness but really just not wanting to risk breaking free too soon. He'd felt a chain wiggle, the last time he gave it a good shake. And his people were known for being strong. They should have used better chains.

The path crunched under the sled, and, though he could see very little, he could see the tibia of some woodland creature. She ate her prey alive, but that was no human bone. The minions dragging him were panting. The hill up to the Night Witch's cave was very steep.

Candor waited. They were almost there, and, when he was brought to the Night Witch, he knew, even bound like this, his plan would work.

The sled stopped. He could see nothing but the path, but he heard a door open. He heard the murmur of proud-minion-explanation. He heard the measured footsteps that had to be the Night Witch, and he saw the white leather toes of her boots.

Candor waited. The feet paused. Candor knew the moment she realized what she was seeing, the moment she recognized the tattoos and scars on his back.

"You?!" It was a gasp, from the Witch who was unshakable.

Candor smiled. Hello, darling.



Written to [personal profile] inventrix's prompt.

This may be fae apoc.

If you'd like to see more of this story, there is definitely more to be written! Just drop a tip in the the tip handcuffs:




We are as of this posting, $17 from three more prompters getting an extra 500-word story, and $35 from a rug for my cave!



aldersprig: (Aldersprig Leaves Raining)
Shonie came over for game night, the same way she always did. She brought the same things the guys did - dice, books, a habit of complaining about the rules - and the same things the other girls in the group did - which included some snacks, some bottled water, and a bribe for May, Dave Carter's girlfriend and co-renter of the apartment in which they were gaming.

She brought something nobody else did, too - of course, in a group like this, everybody had a specialization. Shorter-Dave brought a habit of playing explosive rogues and a way of smoothing over conflicts. Jenn With All the N's brought the half-elf girls, always the half-elf girls, and an ability to find any loophole, anywhere, everywhere. SeKDillimn brought the snake - and other things, but usually the snake. And Shonie brought Handling Dave Carter.
Read more... )


Okay, first, names: That's a combination of a friend's childhood group (everyone is firstnamelastname) and my own gaming group from a few years back (Jen vs. Jenn-n-n-n, Other Dave and Other Jeremy, key-mash screenames and things from gaming & the SCA. We had first Bob the Gangrel & then Mark the Gangrel, so. Gangrel it is.)

This is written to [personal profile] whuffle's prompt and is not in any current setting.

If you'd like to see more of this story, I bet there's more to be written. Just drop a tip in the the tip handcuffs:

aldersprig: (KinkBingo2)
My Dungeons & Caves Call is still open! But only for the rest of today.

This prompt call is all about captured men, enslaved men, kidnapped men, submissive men, trapped men.

Leave a prompt, and I will write a micro/flash-fic. Tip, and I will write more words - 100 per $1US tipped.

(The cuffs are the tip jar)

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. Reached! (It turned out to be Chinese. Mmm, shrimp-fried rice).

at $40, I will commission a piece of character art from a crowdfunded artist Reached!
(I will wait to see which story is most popular before commissioning a piece. Right now, "A Rescue of Sorts" is winning ;-)

At $50, I will write an extra fic for everyone. One prompter chosen at random will get an extra 500-word story. Reached! (I will write these once I've written all the original stories!)

At $75, three prompters chosen at random will get an extra 500-word story written to their prompt Reached! (I will write these once I've written all the original stories!)

We're at $83 as of this posting! Thank you, everyone!

At $100, three more prompters chosen at random will get an extra 500-word story.

At $120, I get a rug for my cave!

Go prompt, if you haven't!
aldersprig: (AylaWorried)
Eamon had made his share of enemies in four years at Addergoole.

Everyone did, he supposed. Everyone got in somebody's way, everyone pissed someone off. He liked to think that he'd done right, at least. He'd made the bad guys angry, made almost all of the really bad ones somewhere between furious and spitting mad, and generally protected the small, the weak, and those who didn't know better yet. But that didn't make him any fewer enemies - that just made the ones he had stronger and more ruthless.

He watched his back his first year out of school. It was 2012, so there was a lot of watching to do, anyway. Watch out for the army, watch out for the monster-hunters. Watch out for the monsters, in at least three varieties. Help who you can.

He was actually pretty good at helping people, too. He was naturally gregarious and made more so by his Change; people liked him. He was a nice puppy. Big, friendly, affable, and nobody really thought too much about how big he was when he was helping them out of a jam. He made a bit of a name for himself - helping people out of difficult situations, playing fireman or EMT or whatever and then moving on while people were still grateful. It was, he hated to admit, fun. People liked him.

By the time he woke up with a splitting headache, he'd actually forgotten all about watching his back from school enemies, and he'd almost forgotten about watching out for the other threats. The world was done ending. It had been a few years.

And he was staring up at someone straddling him, trying desperately to remember how he'd gotten here - and why she was smiling.

Read more... )
aldersprig: (KinkBingo2)
Previous: A Rescue, of Sorts

Daxton had dealt with mercenaries before - there had been the month of assassination attempts, and then there had been the border skirmishes, since his father's Duchy butted up again the Red Queen's land. He had learned, unpleasantly but quickly, that you did what you were told by the people in armor, or, Duke's son or not, they made certain you did what they wanted. He fell quiet and held still.

"This'll just take a minute." She pulled a leather roll from her belt and, from there, pulled a set of tiny tools. "Just hold still..." One slim tool went into the key-hole of Daxton's shackles, followed by another, this one at an angle. "Hold still..." Daxton hadn't moved, but, then again, she wasn't looking at him, she was looking at her work.

Three clicks later, the shackles had released. "Can you walk?"

"Yes." He was fairly certain he could, at least. "But-"

"Hsst, come on." She hauled him to his feet and shoved her shoulder under his arm. "We've got to get out of here before - well, we've got to get out of here."
Read more... )

Next: Probably a Rescue.
aldersprig: (KinkBingo2)
"Miss Myers, when you I said I was willing to do anything..." Danny wiped sweat from his brow. He should just shut up. He kept talking. "I suppose the tone of your voice led me to think that, maybe, since you were looking for a 'personal assistant' and it was going to be work in my degree field..."

"You thought perhaps the work would either be sexual or related to business. I understand." Lilliam Myers sat down on stone wall with a practiced skirt-smoothing gesture that did not help Danny's concentration. She was fifteen years older than him and a thousand times richer and more successful. And he worked for her, and she was talking about sex. "You weren't expecting to be laying walls and mowing my lawn. It doesn't appear to be forwarding your position any, am I right?"

"Exactly." He picked up another brick and slotted it into place.
Read more... )
aldersprig: a close up of an alder leaf (Leaf)
"It's the stereotype, right?" He shed his jacket and ran a hand through his hair, tousling it. The woman smiled encouragingly and let him talk. "Powerful guy, has it all." His shirt joined his jacket; his fingers and his speech slowed. The woman didn't mind - he was sculpted under the shirt, sleek, and clearly a bit nervous. "But he doesn't have any place to put 'it all' down. He doesn't have any place to not be in charge." His fingers lingered on the button to his pants.

The woman counted silently to three, waiting for the moment when he looked at her, when he looked for an answer. One, two... there. She stepped forward, gently moving his hand away from his waistband so that she could take over. "Yeah, it's the stereotype. And that's for a reason." She unbuttoned him, unzipped his fly, and with the same slender fingers pushed his pants down to his ankles. "But every theme has variations. Mmm, every song has a bridge."

"Every rose has its thorn?" he teased.

"And every night has its dawn." From her knees at her feet, she smiled up at him. "And sometimes, a powerful man needs to let go. Yes?"

He let out a noise that was somewhere between a groan and a plea. "Yeah. Yeah... yes."

"Then... let go. I'll be here to catch you, and I'll be here to put you back on your feet."

As the fireman sank slowly to his knees, the woman reached out, both hands, to hold his shoulders. Sometimes, they needed her to put out flames.



My Dungeon & Cave Call is open!

If you'd like to see more of this story, I'm sure I could come up with some;-) Just drop a tip in the the tip handcuffs:



Written to [livejournal.com profile] wispfox's prompt
.
aldersprig: (KinkBingo2)
"I'm telling you, man, she's something else. She's in here like she's on the prowl, on the huuunt." Ted drew the word out like he was tasting it. "When's the last time you saw a chick in here like that?"

"Well, a)," Rick ticked off on a finger, "we haven't seen her yet, and 2), I haven't seen a chick in here at all, except Patty the bartender, since Donnie's wife came in after him. This is a sports bar, bro, and there's nothing here but a giant sausage fest."

"And beer." Donnie demonstrated by slinging his beer back in one giant swig. "And my good friends Jack and Johnny. Think you've had too much to drink, Teddy boy."

"What about you?" The whisky contralto snuck up on them, the sort of voice that tightened their pants and sped up their heart rates. "Are you strong enough?"
Read more... )




My Dungeon & Cave Call is open!

We all know where this is going, but if you want to see more, drop a tip in, ah, the tip handcuffs:



This story written to @dahob's prompt.
aldersprig: (KinkBingo2)
"Well." The princess looked at the man kneeling in front of her. He, in turn glared up at her. "This is certainly a situation."

"No." His voice was harsh. "This is an inconvenience. What happens when you let me out of the chains - that's a situation."

"It certainly could be." She perched on an upholstered stool and studied him. He was all over muscle, fighter-style, and all over bruises and cuts. He was kneeling because he'd been chained that way, and even the chains, thick as her wrist, looked as if they were straining to hold him. "But here's the problem. I don't want to be here, you don't want to be here. And any solution that leads to one of us not being here leads to us both ending up dead."

"How do you figure, princess?" He sneered her title like an insult.

She didn't respond in kind. "You heard my father. I have to survive you for a year. And you have to survive me - which, I admit, should be easier for you." She ran her fingers over the hilt of her belt-knife. She wasn't helpless - but she had to sleep sometime.

"Like he'd kill his precious daughter."

"He is the King, and he gave his word. Emotion is secondary to honor." She needed to move. She stayed sitting down. "And if you kill me, you won't make it out of the city."

"I might."

"But you probably won't." She leaned down until she could look him levelly in the face. "So. Neither of us want to be here. How do we get through this?"




My Dungeon & Cave Call is open!

If you want more of this story - and this one could go on for a while!! - drop a tip in, ah, the tip handcuffs:


This story written to [personal profile] rix_scaedu's prompt. It is, I have to admit, a story I've tried to write several dozen times - however, this is the first time in quite a few years. So it's new, right?


Next: Two Rocks & a Bunch of Pebbles
aldersprig: (KinkBingo2)
"Come back to me. Anton, come back to me."

The words swam into focus slowly. The boy squeezed his eyes more tightly closed. "N-n-nooaw."

"Yes, Anton." Her voice was soft, patient, but implacable. That was how she always was. "Come back to me, Anton O Gwydion. Wake up to yourself, Anton."

She was stroking him, running her hands through his fur - no, through his hair. The boy liked it when she petted him. It made everything feel a little more real. "No?" he tried again. This time, it came out as a word and not a meowl.

"That's my boy. How does your tail feel?"

"Gone." That was the saddest part of coming back. "Missing."

"There will be time for a tail again." Her hand rested at the small of his back. "How do your ears feel?"

"Inadequate." He jerked up one paw - hand, hand - to scratch at his short, round, naked ear. "Short."
Read more... )
aldersprig: (KinkBingo2)
He would never admit it if you asked, but Daxton found something relaxing about being chained up in the Red Queen's dungeon. There was regular, if boring, food, a nice hour of full sunlight every day, and the expectations were amazingly simple: all he had to to was continue to say "no" to the Red Queen, which wasn't as hard as she'd like to think it was, and the food would keep coming and the bucket-of-tepid-water-baths would keep him from stinking too bad for her royal nose.

It wasn't an ideal situation, of course, but Daxton had found that there were few situations in life that were ideal. Farmers were at the whim of the weather and the magic storms. Merchants were at the whim of their supply and the demand. Daxton was either at the whim of his Ducal father, or he was at the whim of the Red Queen.

The Red Queen had informed Daxton that his father had hired mercenaries to rescue him, and had then, rather cheerfully, told him every time they failed. Daxton had been Outraged Of Course and secretly a little bit relieved. It was thus with some dismay that he found his early-afternoon sunbath being interrupted by a few very quiet thuds from outside his cell door.
Read more... )

Next: http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/824624.html
aldersprig: (KinkBingo2)
This prompt call is all about Lyn comfort writing. *cough*

I want to write a bunch of fun, self-indulgent pieces, and I'm raising money to make my "cave," the room where I write, prettier and more comfortable to write in. So: caves and dungeons.

I noticed, looking at pretty pictures on Deviantart the other day, that there were lots of pictures of collared women, submissive women - and very few of collared, submissive men. So this prompt call is all about captured men, enslaved men, kidnapped men, submissive men, trapped men.

(Note: I will default to non-sexual-explicit content unless you ask for explicit stuff, to avoid discomfort all around. There will, otoh, be lots of slavery and tying up and kink, probably).

Leave a prompt, and I will write a micro/flash-fic. Leave as many prompts as you want; I will try answer at least one for each person (although I may use more than one prompt in a fic) and I WILL write at least to the first 10 people to prompt.

Want more words, or just really like something you read? Drop some money in the tip jar!
(The cuffs are the tip jar)

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 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. Reached!

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

At $50, I will write an extra fic for everyone. One prompter chosen at random will get an extra 500-word story. Reached!

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

At $100, three more prompters chosen at random will get an extra 500-word story.

At $120, I get a rug for my cave!

Have fun! Prompt!

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