aldersprig: (Dragon Orange)
Part I
Part II
Part III
Part IV
Part V


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Abigail already knew what Liv was going to say, but she thought she ought to make a point for being reasonable. “We’ve got to get back eventually, Liv,” she tried, although, if the truth would be told, she didn’t try too hard.

“But eventually! Come on, Anto said something about Beavers and while this lady was very nice, I haven’t seen anything that looks like a beaver or acts like Mrs. Beaver or anything yet!”

Because the person handing out candy to teenaged girls before dropping them at dubious booksellers was totally the person to be trusted. Abigail sighed. “All right. One more store, then. Which way, ma’am?”

“Oh right there, between history and modern architecture, just tug on the Frank Lloyd Wright book.” The woman waved them on cheerfully. “Do be careful out there, girls. Very careful. The world can be very rough - all of the worlds can be very rough, especially on the young. Out with you.”

Abigail pulled on the book, as instructed, and a door swung open. “Down the rabbit’s hole,” she muttered.

“Oh, no, dearies, that’s quite a ways away from here. No, just Beavers, that way, and maybe some Goats.”

Outside the book shop, they found themselves in.. a hallway. A normal hallway, almost like the mall they’d come from. “Do you have any idea how this fits behind the mall?” Abigail complained.

“I don’t,” Liv answered in a hushed whisper, “but, all things considered, I’m not sure it does.”

The hall might have looked like the outside mall, but the lights were dimmed, and almost all the stores were shuttered and empty. “It looks like a dead mall,” Abigail whispered. “Like it’s come here to breathe out its last.”

“That’s kinda creepy, Abby.” Liv’s hissed answer didn’t sound like she disagreed. “Do you think we took the wrong exit?”

“There was only one,” Abigail complained. “I pulled the book, the door opened-” She turned around, but there was nothing but a closed grate and the remains of a WaldenBooks behind them. “Oh, Shit.”


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aldersprig: (AldersGrove)
Part I
Part II
Part III
Part IV


💸 💰 💸 💰 💸


Abigail frowned at the woman. “There’s a price for leaving something. A price for making something, and a price for taking something?”

“Oh, there always is. I’m just more honest about it than most.” The woman smiled cheerfully. “I’m not out to get you. I can assure you of that. I will return you safely to whence you came when your time here is over, and never will you say that I did not give you a good deal. That is not the sort of shop that this is - although you have the smell of you that you may have gotten too close to one of those. Not Anto, no. Anto is mischievous and difficult, but that is all.”

There were too many loopholes in that little speech. Abigail wanted to say this is where the villain will end up saying ‘ha-ha, but I did not say when your time here would be over.
Read more... )

Next: http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1339349.html

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aldersprig: (Oligarchy)
Part I
Part II
Part III


💸 💰 💸 💰 💸

Abigail had her doubts about following the strange person through the back of the spices-and-herbs store, but Liv seemed definitely enchanted by the whole thing.

“Beavers?”

“Well, as I said, not literally. We don’t have any Animals here, not of the sort you’d find in Narnia or Oz. It’s just not the right environment for them, and nobody but the Raccoons and the Magpies really enjoy shopping, anyway. Oh, and the Corvids, of course. Can’t forget them.” The person pushed aside a beaded curtain, opening up a narrow wood-paneled hallway. “This area isn’t open to everyone, but I see that you’ve already met Tinaia, and that gives you some special leeway.”

Abigail shared a look with Liv, or tried to, but Liv was staring down the hallway. So, “leeway?” she asked, and hoped their guide would give some sort of useful answer.
Read more... )

Part 5: http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1337419.html

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aldersprig: (Swirls)
Part I
Part II

💰 💸 💰 💸 💰
“…I was going to buy that skirt…” Abigail complained.

“No, you weren’t. You would hem and haw about the price and in the end you would’ve left with nothing.” Liv patted her on the shoulder. “We could go into the bookstore there, or we could go to that place that looks like it’s selling herbs and spices?”

“Herbs and spices first. Once we get in a bookstore, we’re going to be there ‘till it’s time for your mom to pick us up.”

Liv giggled. “Like that one time, when she came in to get us…”

“Or that time she had the store page us.

“Or that time she texted us bits of War and Peace until we came out on our own… Yeah. The herb and spice place first.”
Read more... )
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Next: http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1335114.html
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aldersprig: (Pterry)
Part I
💰 💸 💰 💸 💰
Abigail reached out her hand without thinking. “What - oh.” It was an amulet, bronze-like in color, the script swirling around it looking similar to that on the awning.

“What is it?” Liv crowded in close. “What - hunh. What is it?” she repeated.

“I’m not sure,” Abigail admitted.

“It is,” the old woman interjected, “a key and a shield, a sword and a lock. It will do what you need it to. And for you two, it is free. Now, should you want something else, do come in and look around.”

Oh, a freebie. Abigail slid the amulet on its cord around her neck and stepped into the old woman’s shop.

Inside seemed like a tent more than a shop, with blankets layering the walls until you couldn’t see the shape of the room it was in, shelves stacked here and there and hangers dangling from ropes criss-crossing the ceiling. The skirts and dresses hanging from the hangers were the prettiest things Abigail had ever seen.

Liv, on the other hand, seemed drawn to the cases of jewelry and strange things arranged in a back corner. Abigail found her digging in her pocket. “I’m down to five dollars,” she moaned. “I never should have gotten that stupid necklace from Spencer’s.”

“I will trade,” the old woman suggested. “The ‘stupid necklace’ for this piece you want.”

The piece looked like scrimshaw, a twist of bone carved with an elaborate pattern.

“Is that even legal to own?” Abigail wondered.

The old woman smiled. “The animal it comes from is not endangered. A trade? The piece you regret for this piece? It will look lovely with that blue dress in your bag.”

Liv looked down at the piece, sighed, and nodded. “A trade, thank you. That’s very nice of you.”

“I deal in trades,” the woman told her, “and regrets. Thank you for your custom, young ladies.”
Without seeming as if they were leaving, they were outside her shop again.


next: http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1328765.html

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aldersprig: (AldersGrove)
Written to [personal profile] lilfluff's prompt: "Kids at the mall stumble on the secret wing with the stores not listed on the mall’s map."

“And then Kevin said - what?” Abigail stopped mid-story to frown at Liv, who had gone silent and tense in the middle of Rue 21. “…oh. Come on, this way.” She took Liv’s hand and pulled her past the menswear. “Vic Carter, I swear,” she muttered as she pulled. “Bullies should not be allowed in the places normal people go.”

Liv had no problem being pulled - she never did - and kept her head down and her voice low. It wasn’t like they hadn’t done this before. “We’re normal now?” she muttered.

“Well, compared to that pile of unkind sentiment and bile?” Abigal got them out of Rue 21 and looked both ways. It was clear towards Hot Topic…

“You’ve been reading Austen again or something, haven’t you? - shit.”

“Oh, look who they let out of their cages!” Vic Carter’s snotty voice came at them like a weapon. “Didn’t I tell you two worms to stay away from me?”
Read more... )

Part II: https://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1325082.html

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aldersprig: (BookGlasses)
Written to [twitter.com profile] Midnight_Blaze_'s prompt

“It is an amulet of good.” The woman behind the counter smiled with not nearly enough teeth.

“Good… luck? Good… looks? Good wealth?” Opal raised her eyebrows in question.

“Good.” The woman nodded. “It is of good.” Her accent was thick and seemed to wander around the globe. Her skin was more wrinkle than smooth, more age spot than whatever her original tone had been, and her hair was thin and curly.

And the amulet was $4. Opal paid it out of her pocket and left the remaining $1 in the jar for Children with… something. The label had long since faded. “Have a good day,” she told the woman.

“Good.” The woman nodded firmly at her. “Have good.”

A man on the street smiled at her, so Opal smiled back. She strolled down the street whistling, the amulet tucked neatly under her shirt, and so she did not see how it was glowing - or how the man she smiled at seemed to float a little; how the woman she held the door for seemed to brighten up, how the clerk in the candy store was whistling, too, after she left.
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aldersprig: (LynBack)


Worst Play Ever!

The Seventh Street Players' presentation of A Midsummer Night's Dream was cancelled after yesterday's show left five people in a coma.

Available for all Patrons!




✉️️
Written originally in 2011 - Stranded World, Autumn and Tattercoats in an earlier time.
The content, while not explicitly sexual (there are never 2 people in the same place), is steamy.

✉️️
The mail drop was hidden in a hole in a tree, twisted around with magic to keep the squirrels from using their letters as nesting, to keep prying eyes from seeing.

One function that Autumn and several other itinerates of her ilk served was as couriers. E-mail could be read, phones tapped, postal mail interrupted. Messages travelling by courier were far less susceptible to tampering or loss; second best were messages left in strand-locked mail drops like this, then moved to the next drop by courier.

Read on...
aldersprig: (tea3)


I started out with Hob's punnish prompt and I may have just invented a new world. Also, Coffee Shop, because, well, there's coffee shop AU's everywhere so I just decided the U should be in a coffee shop.

Ahem. It was late and I was sleepy-giddy. Have a story. New 'Verse.




The shop wasn't all that busy. Haley wasn't surprised: it was the middle of the day on the Thursday before Christmas, they were in a college-town area, not a high retail-traffic sort of place, and the snow was knee deep in the shallow parts. They were only open for the UPS drivers & bus drivers, if she was going to be honest. And to give Cady the hours, because Cady needed the money.

Haley didn't mind having the extra help...

read on...

aldersprig: (Aldersprig Leaves Raining)

It is written to a commissioned present for [livejournal.com profile] rix_scaedu as a continuation of Insta-Cure and Soul Fire from my Summer Giraffe Call.

Betsy and Aspen looked at each other again, then looked back at Topher. They looked at each other, then at Topher. On the third look, they tackled him, Betsy with a pillow, Aspen aiming for the tickle offense.

Topher fell back, trying to fend off both of them without grabbing anything inappropriate. “What?”
Read more... )
aldersprig: (GIRAFFE!)

Written to [livejournal.com profile] rix_scaedu' commissioned continuation of Insta-Cure from my Summer Giraffe Call.

Aspen pulled the candles and fake logs from the fireplace and whispered a quick spell, unstoppering the chimney. “Fire,” she murmured, pleased with herself. “All right, Toph, Betsy, there are eight candles in there. Arrange them in a half-circle around the fireplace, and then we’re going to put you in the middle, Toph, and we’re going to focus on the problem.”

“No, uh-unh.” He shook his head emphatically. “That’s how we end up with the Stay-Puft Marshmallow Man.”

“No, no. That’s how we ended up with the nice shield over this block, remember? It’s not always like Ghostbusters, bub.”

Topher sighed loudly. “All right, all right. We can focus on the problem. Which is me, yeah? Me is the problem?”
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Next: http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1153016.html
aldersprig: (GIRAFFE!)

Written to [livejournal.com profile] rix_scaedu' prompt here to my Summer Giraffe Call Round 2

The sun was up. It had been raining for a week, and the plants did not need any more water.

Patrice suited up in leather, long gloves and shit-kicker boots, and risked stepping out onto her front porch.

She could hear sirens in the distance. She wondered if they'd cleared Main Street yet. She wondered what had happened with their "controlled burn." She'd told them it was too wet for that. She was told them they needed to find the source, but the thing was too good at distracting them from the core.
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aldersprig: (GIRAFFE!)

Written to [twitter.com profile] fullaquirkes' prompt here to my Summer Giraffe Call.

“I think I’ve got it.” Aspen hurried into the common room, three books under her arm and a basket full of miscellany in her other hand. “I figured it out. Now all we have to do is… try it.”

Betsy looked up. “Is this like the part where we ‘tried’ being a cat for half an hour?”

“I apologized for that.” Aspen wrinkled her nose. “I apologized, I made cookies, I even kowtowed. I had to look up kowtowing, but I did it.”

“Cut her a break, Bets.” Topher didn’t look up from his video game. “I mean…” somehow he still seemed able to see the glare Betsy shot in his direction. “If you want to? I mean, I spent that half an hour as a golden lab, remember?”
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Next: http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1142558.html

aldersprig: (GIRAFFE!)
Written to [livejournal.com profile] rix_scaedu's prompt here to my Summer Giraffe Call.


It was nearly dawn when they finally got to bed. Gabi was exhausted, and she was certain that her wife was, too. Still, they were both flopped across the blankets, awake, staring at the ceiling.

“It’s an infestation,” Alex finally said.

“It’s my family,” Gabi countered, without much heat behind the protest. “You agreed to this?” It was more an apology than it was a defense.
Read more... )

aldersprig: (GIRAFFE!)
Written to [livejournal.com profile] sauergeek's prompt here to my Summer Giraffe Call.


“How long do you think it originally took mankind to discover fire?”

“Shut up, Danijel.”

“Because I’m thinking you’re looking at running longer than primitive men living in a cave.”

“In case you haven’t noticed, Danijel, we are living in a cave. Besides, the whole ‘cave man’ thing was a myth. Made for pretty cartoons, that’s all.”
Read more... )

aldersprig: (Aldersprig Leaves Raining)


June 23, 2006: If I recall correctly, I had a lyric from Sweet Southern Comfort, by Buddy Jewel, stuck in my head. Out of that, we got this little piece:
Kissing Gary Williams' sister in the back of the arcade after prom while our dates played Street Fighter... what a way to start!

It all started innocently enough... okay, it didn't, but it looked innocent, at least. The two of us, dressed to the nines, with $50 hair cuts and 4" heels, rained out of the traditional post-prom miniature golf and three games past pretending to care who was winning. We sighed nearly in unison.

"I thought there'd be more kissing," she confessed.

"I thought there'd be necking in the back of Gary's car," I countered.

"That's my brother!" she exclaimed (not for the first time), shocked and titillated.

"That's okay," I grinned, "I like you better anyway."

She had eyes the same amazing, dangerous grey-blue as her brother, I noticed, tiny wrists, and the most beautiful collarbones I had ever seen. I put my hand on the back of her perfect neck and kissed her the way I wanted her brother to kiss me.

It wasn't until I pulled back, several heartbeats later, that I thought to be nervous. It was an excruciatingly long second before she looked up at me with a stunned look... and tilted her face in a way that I had no doubt meant she wanted me to do it again.

Our dates found us an hour or so later, entangled in each other in the landscaping by the 5th hole, soaked to the skin and loving it.
aldersprig: (City)


May 19, 2011: [community profile] dailyprompt: "eight line poem" and "I want to be alone."
I wrote something with placeholders for names and, as I went... I realized that the placeholders made more sense than names:

“I want to be alone.” [3] stared down at her notebook, the pencil limp in her hand.

“Now, honey, you know it don’t work that way.” [2] cuddled her briefly.

“It oughta,” she sighed.

“Now don’t let the bosses hear you talking that way,” her teammate scolded. “They’ll start thinking you’re defective, or, worse...

continue reading Alone Together here.
aldersprig: (Shooting star)
E-mail box clean out continues!
This is to a combination of [livejournal.com profile] lilfluff's and [livejournal.com profile] rix_scaedu's prompts here



"I don't believe in aliens." The elf lord stuck his chin out and glared at the gathered others. "There is life aplenty on this planet, for one. For another, the stars are gods-lights trailing across the ceiling of the world. There is no place for these 'alien beings' to come from."

Others on the council nodded their heads. "There are the gods, but they do not visit this planet except in cases of extreme emergency." A grey-haired elf ticked off points on her long fingers. "There are us, the fae of Underhill and the Hidden Vale. There are humans. There are the water-borne, who are neither fae nor human. That is more than enough for anyone to deal with."

The messenger cleared his throat uncomfortably. Up until a week ago, he hadn't believed in aliens either - and until half an hour ago, he hadn't believed in elves. "Be that as it may, ma'am, sir, everyone... but the aliens want a breeding pair of unicorns, and you are our last hope of finding any."


Tip Box ;-)
aldersprig: (GIRAFFE!)
To [livejournal.com profile] sauergeek's prompt. Modern era, unknown setting.

The people of Greenville had been pleased to finally get a proper water processing plant. The wells had been producing sporadically for decades now, and the Crooked Lake, while beautiful, was too often green and not the tastiest water by far.

The company that installed it came in shiny trucks and cars with cleansuits and many instruments. "Looks like an alien invasion:" Bernie McDonald wasn't the first to say it, but he was the loudest.

"Or some sort of government takeover. Men in black." Gennie Simmons was far quieter than her cousin, but when she spoke, people listened.

"Nonsense, Gennie, they're in white," scoffed Bernie. But he, loud as he was, and she, in her retiring way, kept an eye on the workers and the cars, the machinery and and intake tubes, the chemicals and the filters. They were retired, decades past retirement, actually, like half the town. They had time to spy, and they spied thoroughly.

The problem in all that spying was, it wasn't something the water plant people were putting in that was the problem. It was what they were taking out.

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aldersprig: (Aldersprig Leaves Raining)
Written to [personal profile] wyste's prompt

There were things Taran expected from Ei. He expected dinner ready when he got home from work. He expected ridiculous movies and cuddling and a certain needy affection that he loved. He expected obedience when they were playing and backtalk when they weren't, and an eye-searing sense of fashion that made office parties quite entertaining.

He did not expect to come home and find dinner for three on the table, and Ei sitting patiently on the couch with another guy. Ei was smiling, but it was a nervous smile, and the guy - shaggy beard, perfectly groomed hair, terrifyingly blue eyes - was smiling reassuringly and patting Ei's hands.

"This, ah, this is Joseph." Ei sprang to his feet. "This is Joseph, and I want to bring him home for dinner." Taran's partner jutted out his chin in nervous defiance. "And for good."





aldersprig: (City)
The thing is, our town isn't that big. It's a city, technically, yeah, but the next city away is an hour in any direction, and most of those aren't very big either. So the mall is the only real shopping around except Wal-Mart and Main Street, which is to say, the only real shopping at all.

Or at least, it was...

read on...

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aldersprig: a close up of an alder leaf (Leaf)
Stories for which I have no extant Setting

Utterly Random
The Snow War (LJ)
Being First(LJ)
On the Water (LJ)
Thought Experiments, a story of Impossible Situations (LJ)
After the Fire (LJ)

Non-Modern Second World
No Parades (LJ)

Day Twin, Night Twin (LJ)
The Dark and Light Mirrors (LJ)
The Light World and its Shadows (LJ)

Space
The Tuesday Map (LJ) Life in the BAELZ.
Birth of a City (LJ) It started with asteroid miners...
Down in Human Town (LJ)
Out of Nowhere(LJ)
Sol Invictus (LJ)
Remembering Earth (no crosspost)
Decanted (No xpost)
Amongst the Wrifflites (LJ)

Urban
Modern Fantasy
Bleed it Out (LJ)
Twelve Roses and One ()
First Rose (LJ) After 12 Roses and One

Bus Stop (LJ)

The Gift Fairy (LJ) "The job fairy ain't going to come give you a job."
I Want to Tell a Story (LJ) It wasn’t what Miss Kelley was expecting to hear from her students.
Made from Words (LJ)
Miss Midas (LJ)
Gift-Wife (LJ)
The Truth, and Hair-Pieces (LJ)
A Star in the East (LJ)
A True Gift (LJ), to [personal profile] anke's prompt
A Present for the Queen of Underhill (LJ) to [livejournal.com profile] moon_fox's prompt
Little Gift (LJ)to [profile] moon_fox's prompt
Reunion (LJ) A slight case of being imaginary
Reality Changes (LJ) (and we can change it)
The Norm (LJ) Being Normal, being Norm

Changing Verses (LJ)

Urban Fantasy
First Steps (LJ) The city remembers
The Dark Places, the Numbered Streets (LJ) - Ance seeks a real adventure. And finds it.
Recovering the City (LJ)
Breaking Ground (LJ)
...On My Parade (LJ)
And Before That? (LJ)
Backstage (LJ), technically Big Trouble in Little China fanfic
No Monster, No Lurking (LJ)
The Manticore (LJ)

The Heritage That Wasn't (LJ)
A Heritage Earned (LJ)


The Cracks
Through the Cracks (LJ)
"China is Here" (LJ)
The Dark of the City (Lj)
Up From the Cracks (LJ)
The Darkness in the Shadows (LJ) (similar setting to The Cracks)

Modern
The most Interesting Wine (LJ)
Setting the Table (LJ)

Bruin's Birthday (LJ)
Falling (LJ)
Commute (LJ)

Rose Petals (LJ)
Pure Snow White (LJ)

Failure to Properly Case the Joint (LJ)
A Piece of Cake (LJ)
Strong Enough? (LJ)
Hallowe'en's Past (LJ)
Trek-style Geek (LJ)


Modern:Horror
Adhara Speaks (LJ)

Modern: Superheroes
Landing Page Here Now

Apoc
Pantry (LJ)

Family Souveniers(LJ)
Souvenir (LJ) A little something from every city

Teaching for the Future (LJ) - unknown Apoc 'verse

Time to Play (LJ)
Under the Sea (LJ)


Futuristic
Big Brother (LJ)


Learn-to-Knit-Day (LJ)
Lost Day (LJ)
A Toque for Hill Primus (LJ)


Whimsy/Magical
Salvation in a Bottle
Wine of the Swan Maidens (LJ)
Still (LJ), a story for my Mother.
Kirkevaren (LJ)

The Second Restriction (LJ)
Eralon Explains (LJ)

Alien
First Wind (LJ)
First Nesting (LJ)

Skypirates
Flying Squirrel: Frying Pan, Fire? (LJ)

Erotic
(LJ)
A Physical Detail, just a minor thing (LJ) (a writing exercise)
aldersprig: (KinkBingo2)
Written to SkySailor's commissioned continuation of
Live-In
and
Arrangements
.

It too Adrian two weeks to decide. Sara tried, during those two weeks, to let him have all the breathing room he needed to decide. She made the most of crock-pot and one-dish recipes, shortcuts and take-out, to make sure he didn’t have to feel like meals were waiting on him; she did cursory cleaning every day, and she tried to get enough work done that it didn’t feel like she was waiting on his decision.

That last Friday, he didn’t make it home until past ten in the evening. His eyes were bloodshot, his hands were shaking, and his skin was ashen. He let Sara chivy him into a bathrobe and slippers without even a pretense of an argument, and sipped the doctored hot cocoa, thick with rum, until his cheeks began to get some color.

“Would... would you tell me what to do? If I agreed to be your housewife?”
Read more... )

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: (AldersGrove)
Written to [personal profile] perfectworry's commissioned continuation of Live-In

Adrian was home late for the fourth time in a week. Sara ordered pizza, washed the dishes from last night's dinner, gathered all of her dirty clothes and his into a pile, and tried not to swear at the mess.

This was his third week of his job, and they'd held him late almost every day. He was new, he wanted the money, and he "didn't have anyone at home." Not, at least, the way his bosses understood having someone at home. Roommates didn't count.

Sara got the wash in and sat down with her budget book. Adrian had insisted on paying rent the minute he'd gotten a paycheck, but the thing was, somehow it wasn't making her balance any bigger.

She opened a document - and swore as the pizza arrived. How had she gotten any work done before Adrian moved in? How had she had any time at all to think?
Read more... )
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:




Next: Agreed.
aldersprig: (kai-sky)
"I never thought this would come in handy. Those underwater basket-weaving classes you took in college, your 'easy a's'..." Amelie shook her head. "I thought you were coasting."

"Everybody thought I was coasting." Brent finished the repair with an elaborate knot. "It's hard to explain that you know you have to learn something. So I went with Liberal Arts because it allowed me to dabble..."

"And used your psychic powers to take classes you knew you were going to need?"

"Well..." Brent swam up. Below, a basket wrapped around a shifting seal, holding an Old One in their place. "Yes."

~

To this week's Thimbleful Thursday prompt, 100 words. Also for Friday Flash.
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: (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.
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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)
"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.
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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
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aldersprig: (LynConstruction)
Written to [personal profile] clare_dragonfly's Prompt to my gender-funk call. More gender than funk, but still fun

"Excuse me, Miss, you can't - Oh. Oh, excuse me." He wasn't really recognizing her; he wasn't even reading the name on her pass. He was just looking at the green bar across the top of it that meant "money."

"No worries. Here." Andy fit the hard hat - custom-made and screaming of "money" as much as her pass did - over her ringlets. "The boots are steel-toed and, yes, I can climb in these jeans."

"I'm sorry, Miss, Ma'am, it's just..."

"I know." She air-patted near the man's shoulder. It wasn't kind, she supposed, but she'd run into this enough times that it had gone from amusing to just tiresome and back again. "Look, I'm Andonia Carter, and this is my building. I just need to get up to the third row of balconies, all right?"

He looked flummoxed. They always did. She'd found if she was going to do this job, it was the only way to get what she wanted without sacrificing anything she didn't want to lose.

"Ma'am, Miz Carter, you can go right up. I'm sorry, it's just..."

"It's always just." She patted her ringlets, just to hammer home the point, and swung into the construction elevator. She'd have to go through it again tomorrow, probably - but eventually, word would get around.

It would have been easier to just dress like they did... but then she'd never make an impression at all.
aldersprig: (HalloweenAldersprig)
To [personal profile] finch's prompt. No setting, AFAIK.


"Dana..." Kelly stopped in the doorway of their apartment and looked Dana up and down. "You know, Hallowe'en's been over for a week. You can stop dressing up."

"This isn't... this isn't really a costume." Dana plucked at the shirt and tie. "I mean, I, ah. I cut my hair for Hallowe'en, but if I'd really just been dressing up, I could've just put it under the hat, right?"

"Well, I figured you were sick of fighting with it, and it was a good excuse, if you didn't want to be fighting with Aaron instead of fighting with your hair. Right?" Kelly bit her lip. "But this is - well, I mean, it's cross-dressing, isn't it? I know Aaron's a jerk..."

"He is." Dana leaned against the wall, sticking out a complete lack of chest under her silk button-down. But this isn't about him. This is - this is just about me."
aldersprig: (Aldersprig Leaves Raining)
To Three-Word-Wednesday (Today's words are Carcass, Geek, Slash).


"When you said you were really into Star Trek, this is not what I expected." Anna stared at the refridgerator carcass which currently took up the large part of the shared living room. "Hector, what are you doing?"

"I didn't say I was into Star Trek. I said I was a 'Star-Trek-style Geek.'" Hector pulled another piece from the guts of the fridge. "This isn't our fridge, don't worry. I got it off craig's list."

"That aside - and good - what is it doing in the living room?" Anna picked her way closer through the debris.
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aldersprig: (Aldersprig Leaves Raining)
To Three-Word-Wednesday (Today's words are Bribery, clobber, skeptical).


"No, no, not like that." Anna leaned forward to grab Joachim's shoulders. "No. You don't want to clobber them over the head with it."

Joachim twitched at the grab. "What am I supposed to do, sing them a love song? It's bribery, not the prom."

"It's both of those things, exactly. Thank you, Aaron. I'll take over." Anna shooed the older man away with a flap of her hand. "This is how we do this." She stepped into Aaron's place. "Greetings, Mr. Todleron. How can I help you tonight?"

The boy twisted his face up. "Anna, I don't think this is going to work."

"No, no, who is this Anna? I am Karl Brust, and I run the store here. How can I help you this evening, Mr. Todleron?"
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aldersprig: (Aldersprig Leaves Raining)
To Three-Word-Wednesday (Today's words are entanglement, death, heartless).

This one wrote itself - helps I've been watching a lot of Supernatural.




She intended to avoid entanglements.

They were a bad idea in her line of work - they led to uncomfortable explanations, teary goodbyes, jealous shouting matches, and, on a couple regrettable occasions, death.

So she tended to stay away from emotional connections.

There were liaisons, of course - she still needed human contact, and her cousin was, while pleasant, her cousin. Not the sort where you'd spend the evening cuddling, watching TV, necking, even when the job didn't get in the way.

But she avoided anything more... long-lasting than a bump-and-cuddle.

It had gotten her called heartless, a time or thirty. It had gotten her called a lot worse than that, too: slut was a favorite, tease - although she never really deserved that one - bitch. But in her line of work, she was used to being called bitch.

And who wanted an entanglement with someone who called you a bitch, anyway?

But sometimes, despite all that, she found herself caring. The job could wait for a day or a week, she'd say. Her cousin could handle this case on her own. She wasn't actually heartless, after all. She needed human contact. But the problem with entanglements was, they tended to twist you up in knots.

And there you were all tied up, when the job called. Safer to just avoid emotional connections altogether.




Following/riffing off of this: Better Left Unsaid
aldersprig: (blizzarded)
This is written in response to Wordless Wednesday #5, from Roc Nano, a Nanowrimo writing group based in my hometown.


"It's a snow cat." Dorothy leaned on the windowsill, looking placidly at her creation. "See, there's her tail, and her ears."

"She has a very short tail." Adam was less impressed. Adam was less impressed by most things, though.

"It's a Manx snow cat. They exist, you know."

"You just couldn't make a tail properly, could you?"

"I didn't make it." She didn't even bother looking at him when she said it. "It just appeared."

It took her brother a moment to decide to ignore that. "What's it doing in the window, anyway? Aren't snowmen -"

"It's a snow cat."

"-snow creatures supposed to be out in the yard where people can see them?" Adam got the smug look that he always did when he'd made a point.

"I suppose it wants to come in." Dorothy breathed on the window and drew cat ears in the condensation.

"It doesn't even look like a cat." Adam shook his head. "And now you think it wants to come in?"

"Well, it's rubbing against the window, look." The snow-thing seemed closer, now, the snowy globe that served as a head pressed against the glass. "I'm going to let it in."

Adam's lip wobbled. "I'm telling mom!"

He fled before Dorothy got the latch on the window open.
aldersprig: an egyptian sandcat looking out of a terra-cotta pipe (Hues of Love)
For [personal profile] meeks's Prompt

They had known each other since childhood, since infancy. Since before that, it sometimes seemed; Kody could not remember a time when she had not know Toby, not known Toby's every line and every mood.

They were Best Friends when other kids were still throwing Legos at each other. They share playground secrets and their first furtive kiss while the other girls were playing Double Dutch and the other boys were mostly pretending to be airplanes. By second grade, when Amelia Anderson was playing Who Will We Wed, nobody had any question: Kody and Toby, forever.

In Jr. High, that morphed into K&T 4-evah, and they moved from hidden kisses to very visible necking. The question became Who Are You Going to the Dance With, and, again, nobody needed to ask them.
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aldersprig: an egyptian sandcat looking out of a terra-cotta pipe (Shades of Love)
To [livejournal.com profile] ellenmillion's prompt

The hard part wasn't getting them home.

Rosario had never had any trouble getting people - men, women, those of non-binary status - to come home. A smile, a suggestion, a wiggle of properly-toned ass, that was all it took. Everything about Rosario's body, club wardrobe, make-up; it was all designed with the hook, the line, and the sinker in mind.

The hard part wasn't getting them to come back.
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aldersprig: (wine)
This was written to To [livejournal.com profile] kelkyag's prompt.

To fix a memory in your mind, associate it with a sense.

As some might guess, I prefer taste-and-smell.

So the way he feels when he presses against me and kisses me reminds me of smoked paprika, his hand on the back of my neck, his hair trailing across my neck.

The way his words sound, when he tells me - and I must remember these words - that I am the most beautiful thing he has ever seen. Those words, they are like the finest chocolate, a little too sweet, but rich and lingering on the tongue.

The way his back looks when he leaves after that first date, as if he's uncertain, his shoulders pulled forward, remind me of lime zest: tangy, and a bit bitter.

When he comes back for seconds, before he's gotten to his car: cheesecake, drizzled in raspberry sauce.

Those moments are nice. Those are warm moments. Tasty moments.

I have citric acid on the shelf, cayenne pepper, noni juice, for moments that were not as nice.

And I have this moment, that I wish to remember more than anything. This moment, with his eyes so big and blue and hovering right on the edge of pain/love/need. Right where he might fall, or might not.

And if his first romantic words were chocolate, this, this is chocolate liqueur poured over pound cake. This is a moment to savor. He might have, once, been spinning a story. Now he's in love. And it tastes like the best thing I have ever cooked.

Some people have a Roman House. I have a Roman kitchen to store my memories in. And I'll put him on the shelf next to the others.
aldersprig: (Aldersprig Leaves Raining)
To @realbrigang's second prompt of the same name.


Warning: Implied/discussed abuse.

















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aldersprig: (me-lyn-kitty)
From [livejournal.com profile] moon_fox's prompt.


"The job fairy ain't going to come give you a job," Francis' father used to say, or "the dishes fairy ain't gonna wash the dishes." The homework fairy wasn't going to do his homework, and the wish fairy wasn't going to make stuff happen.

Francis couldn't help but laugh, then, when the packages started appearing all over the city. At first, people thought it was glitter-bombing, some sort of very strange flash mob thing, something silly and innocuous. A few paranoid people thought maybe that it was a strange way to spread anthrax or something else nasty and weaponized. Some people (and somewhere deep in his heart, Francis was one of those people), just believed.

Believed in the Magic Fairy, and the Hope Fairy, and the Love Fairy. Believed in the pancakes delivered to them them, little white boxes wrapped up in ribbons. Believed when they opened the box, when they saw the tiny glass globes inside, that there was something for them.
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