aldersprig: a red-heded freckled girl, smiling (Autumn)
 

This is a weird one.  Today’s Patreon Sum-up involves three stories I wrote, not to prompts, but because they appeared to me.  All crossovers of one sort or another. 

 

Okay, so I’m working on my outlines for Finish It nanowrimo coming up in, well, November.  And I got to the one for Facets of Dusk and I started thinking about – well, the doors they might open

🚪

“Get us someplace with medical care!” Simon shouted.
“Someplace with advanced technomagical medical care.”  Aerich’s aristocratic snarl sounded panicked.
“Someplace they’re not going to shoot at us.”  Cole’s voice was calm.  But Cole, who had Josie in his arms, also sounded serious.
Read On


I blame this on my current marathon re-read of the Sandman comics.  

📚

On Halloween, 2011, when the walls between worlds were thinner than they had ever been, the woman called The Cat Who Walks Through Walls (because her Mentor had been fond of Robert Heinlein, in his day and in her day) left her kids with her sister, as per their arrangement, and slipped out between those world-barriers.

Read On!


Okay, I guess the theme is really talking to me this month. 

Here’s another bonus, spurred on but not really related to a line from a Popular Mechanics article I read last night: (paraphrase) “AI is going to make the Industrial Revolution look small.”

🤖

Autumn knew better than to grab the strands of the world too much around Hallowe’en.
Everything was thinner at that time, more responsive, more willing to bend and twist and open.

Read On!

aldersprig: a red-heded freckled girl, smiling (Autumn)
Written to eseme‘s prompt.  This comes after Tangles and Knots, Snarls and Combs. 

🔥

There were bits of Tattercoats everywhere.

Sometimes literally: pieces of his coat tended to come off in the strangest places, so that he was always sewing on new bits.  Sometimes figuratively: a book

read on…
aldersprig: (GIRAFFE!)
Leave a comment here if you've signal boosted my Giraffe (Zebra) Call !

Each signal boost will get another 100 words.

🍁

It was the first day of the Faire, and it was, as luck would have it, a rainy day, chilly, and thus mostly attended by the locals, the die-hards, and people who had

read on…
aldersprig: (Winter)


It’s not quite a kaiju story… but it involves Aliens, at least? According to the address on this, I submitted it at over five years ago, at my last apartment.
🛋️
The Center was slow today; in three hours, Amy hadn’t seen more than half a dozen refugees pass her desk. Maybe – though there was faint hope of it – the war was finally winding down?
Free for all "Trunk" Level Patrons!



Originally posted Mar. 7, 2012
💐

"I do not know what this is."

Winter frowned at the glass rose that had appeared in his office mail cube; behind him, Latricia laughed.

"It's a rose. It's not going to bite you."

Read on!!

aldersprig: (Aldersprig Leaves Raining)
After discussing it with my Patreon patrons, I've decided that any Patreon story written as a continuation of an extant public story will be made available for general consumption after three months. Here's the first two.





This story includes portions originally posted http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/665445.html and http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/697268.html to make a complete story.
❄️
There was something amiss with Winter’s sister.

With the oldest of Winter’s sisters and the most steady, the most easy-going, the least likely to have things go amiss.

Read on!!




This is written to Clare K. R. Miller 's request for More Daxton & Esha.
~~
Daxton was captive again, struggling not to take it in ill grace. This time, it seemed unlikely that Esha could rescue him.

It was a captivity far more posh and sometimes far less comfortable than his time in the Red Queen’s dungeons.

Read On!
aldersprig: (Wood)


Originally posted Aug. 8th, 2011 - reposted for Pride Month. Stranded World, the middle sister, Summer, negotiating a three-way relationship. Just a light fluffy piece on parents. :-)
🌈
They had discussed it all beforehand. Summer’s mom was just an e-mail send. Bishop’s parents: “Dad’ll probably buy me a beer, and mom will swoon. No biggie, really.” So it was Melinda’s parents who would be tricky, and thus they managed to schedule that meeting earliest on Parents’ Weekend.

Read On!



This story fits in my Toot Planet setting, although it is considerably longer than many of the “tootfics” I have written for it, a tootfic being a fiction of 500 or fewer characters.

You can see many of those tootplanet microfics here, and the hashtag, which began with Catterfly’s planetary art, here.

That being said, here’s the story.


🌌

Explorer’s Log, Planet 7-3-3

(Planetary Date 4 days)

We landed harder than planned but not quite a crash, after an EMP on the way in — or something similar enough that the effects appear identical — fried every piece of electronics not in deep storage. Landed hard but not a crash-landing; the shuttle is intact, if unflyable, and so’s the team.

Read On!




🌳

Nimbus pulled her knees up to her chest and looked at Cartwright, trying to be polite but also a little worried — more than a little worried. Quite a bit concerned at his ridiculous assertion. “The watering can?” she repeated carefully. “Is Aereaxera thirsty?”

Free for all Patrons!
aldersprig: (Spring)
The cat was trailing strands behind itself, so thickly that at first Spring could not see the color of the cat or the shape of it, just a cat-size ball of Strands.

“Did you-”

Her partner snorted. “That’s Ginger Tom. Well, that’s what I call him.”

Spring squinted, and noticed a line from her partner to the cat, no, several, thin but intense.

“Ginger Tom?” she prompted. This was… interesting.

“Well, Anna down the street, she calls him Pumpkin.” He strolled up the hill of his neighborhood as if it were flat. “And then Geordi down there, he calls him Nightmare. And Candid-and-Cariadad, they call him Only Man, and the redhead who won’t tell me her name, she calls him brother.”

Now Spring could make out the cat, a big orange - no surprise - ginger tom. “They all know him?”

“Know him, love him, feed him. you can see it, can’t you?”

“The way he’s connected to the whole neighborhood?” Spring paused. “No, that’s not right. Not quite connected.” She found herself smiling. “Smart cat. I didn’t know they could do that. He’s made himself the neighborhood.”

“Not a mouse or vole in a mile radius.” Her partner was definitely proud. “And he brings the other cats around like a posse, too.” He gestured towards several other cats. “Shares the food. He’s a good cat.”

Watching the strands twisting around the hill, Spring had to agree.
aldersprig: an ancient-looking world map (map)
March is Worldbuilding Month! Leave me a question about any of my worlds, and I will do my best to answer it! (I need more questions, guys)
🌏
This ninth one is from [twitter.com profile] medicmsh3141: What’s your favorite part of mapmaking?


Oh, no, favorites!


…All of it?

Okay, so when I was working on my first-ever Nanowrimo novel, The Deep Inks, one of the flaws in that book is that I spent like… 3 chapters describing an entirely-useless-to-plot town that the antagonists had built… I don’t even remember why.

But I LOVED that town.
Read more... )
aldersprig: a red-heded freckled girl, smiling (Autumn)
March is Worldbuilding Month! Leave me a question about any of my worlds, and I will do my best to answer it!
🌏
This eighth one is from [personal profile] sauergeek: You have storytellers in at least three universes: Autumn in Stranded, Tanakae in Calepurn, and Rosaria in Aunt Family. Am I missing others? How do their styles overlap, and how do they differ? What are their goals in storytelling? (Lotsa questions!)


Ooh! I probably do have other storytellers, because I like the trope of the storyteller. I like telling stories within the confines of the story, for one - some day I hope to do an at-least-triple-nested story, like Arabian Nights. Maybe for Camp Nano in July~

Autumn tells stories for two reasons: One, because she is a small-change artist, and engaging your audience by telling stories is a very good way to get their attention and interest them in buying. As a Neil Gaiman story I just read says, people don’t buy the art, they buy the story. (Paraphrase). Two, because she is a dancer on the strands of life, and she has found that sometimes a story is the best way to engage someone, to get them to heal their own strand damage, to create their own connections.
Read more... )
aldersprig: a red-heded freckled girl, smiling (Autumn)
March is Worldbuilding Month! Leave me a question about any of my worlds, and I will do my best to answer it!
🌏
This seventh one is from [personal profile] inventrix:
Does everyone who does magic work with Strands? Corollary: if there are people who think they don’t, is it just like how Autumn uses ink - it’s their approach, not the fact that it’s different magic?

Also, what ARE Strands, anyway.


Okay!

So, in Stranded World, everyone who works magic is working with the Strands. Like Autumn and sometimes Summer, they don’t always directly manipulate the strands, and some of them don’t realize what they’re doing at all, but all magic involves manipulating or reading (or cutting, although I guess that’s a manipulation) the Strands.

So, yes, a psychic might be using tea leaves or a palm-reading, but what they are actually seeing is the way the Strands seem likely to move in the near future.

And the Strands are… the world.

Autumn sees primarily the Strands that are connections between people, because that’s her strong suit. She visualizes them as lines, and there are indeed Strands connecting people - love, hate, co-workers, family - everything that makes people touch and make a connection, even eyes meeting across a subway, causes some sort of strand.

They are the actions of people, too, past, current, and potential, streams of movement running through the world; they are the connections people make with things and things make with things.

Some philosophers haves suggested the whole world is just composed of Strands upon Strands. They may be right.
aldersprig: an egyptian sandcat looking out of a terra-cotta pipe (Default)


In Firrset, as in many places, there are poets. The legend goes that even in the First Days, when there was no food to eat and no time to do anything but hunt, plant, gather, and store, there were poems they would tell each other across the field.
But the greatest poet of the time came quite some time after that, but in a time still mostly buried away from history's records.


Free for Patreon Patrons!




The thing was, she was both the tale-teller and the story. She was both the portrait and the model. She was the song and its subject.

There were theories about that, of course: theories and theses and stories and myths. Stories have a lot of power, after all.

And storytellers have a power, a mystery, all of their own.

Read On!



☘️
I wrote this several years ago as an in-character explanation of why the school was named Addergoole.

☘️
“I’ve been wondering, Professor. Why Addergoole?”

It wasn't the primary thing on her mind, of course. They were studying an array of Change descriptions and, of apparently more interest to her Mentor, "inherent non-Working abilities," something that Kai hadn't really been aware existed.

Read On!
aldersprig: (Winter)
In the past - when Winter is in his late teens
❄️️
Winter leaned forward, his lips only a millimeter from Karen Schneider’s.

He could feel the place where the Strands were about to be disturbed. He could see the disturbance, even with his eyes closed.

He kissed her anyway. Kissed her and then wrapped an arm around her and rolled them both to the side.

“What!” she gasped and tried to pull away, but Winter had practice with this, if not with Karen.

The water balloons hit the tree behind them, right where they would have been if he hadn’t rolled them.

Winter released Karen and rolled off to his side so she didn’t feel the least bit restricted, just as his little sisters ran up to him.

“Winter!” Summer complained. “You cheated!
Read more... )

Want More?
aldersprig: a red-heded freckled girl, smiling (Autumn)
March is Worldbuilding Month! Leave me a question about any of my worlds, and I will do my best to answer it!
🌏
This Fourth one is from [personal profile] inventrix:
Stranded: are there styles of strand-working that are not represented by the Seasonal Siblings?



Yes!

Next question?

Ahem.

Let’s see. Autumn is reading the connections, Winter is smoothing them, Spring is tangling things, and Summer does… little charms, which are really either smoothing, tangling, or making a connection.

In addition, we’ve seen a star mapper - who honestly is a combination of reading connections and interpreting potential connections. Like a life adviser with cheat codes.

There’s also Severers, snippers. Those are - well, they might not be bad people, but it’s a bad power. It eliminates connections, as the name would suggest, cutting them off.

There’s Binders. That’s different from what Autumn does; it’s the power to actually tie a connection where one wasn’t before. (Autumn can strengthen a connection with the right ritual). Tattercoats is a type of binder, knotting people to his will.

There are people who do many variations on the powers of the seasonal siblings as well - a psychic is a star mapper, a curse is what Summer does, and so on.

There are people who can bend the Strands to provide them with energy - not a good idea in the long run - to hide themselves from view by moving sight along other paths, to protect places or people by charming them with a smoother path or a firmer roof.

And there are people out there who can just grasp the edges of what the Strand-workers are doing, but can’t do any of it.
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: a red-heded freckled girl, smiling (Autumn)
The meme is here: Give me the names of two characters and I will tell you why character A loves character B.

Here are [personal profile] rix_scaedu's second and [personal profile] clare_dragonfly's first prompts. Kailani and Rozen are from Addergoole; Autumn from Stranded World.

Read more... )
Read more... )
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aldersprig: a red-heded freckled girl, smiling (Autumn)
Stranded World, for my Hurt/Comfort card.

Okay, this is 7500 words long, and it rambles in places. I may clean it up at some point, but right now, I'm just glad I found an end to it :-)

Content warning for discussion of death, actual dead bodies, removal of free will.



There had been something wrong with the town from the moment she walked in.

Autumn had walked into any number of small towns in her years as a vagabond artist. Some of them looked sidelong at her wild hair, at her wild clothes, at her wild tattoos. Some of the tutted over her bare feet, her backpack, her sunburn (for she was often sunburned). Some of them welcomed her only when she made it clear she had money to spend.

Pattersonville, nobody seemed to notice. She walked into the diner -- pausing to put on her shoes, first, because people had Opinions -- ordered her breakfast-for-dinner that she preferred, and looked around. Nobody seemed to notice her. Nobody hassled her about her tattoos, or the henna patterns sneaking out of from under her hair and around her shoulders. Nobody said anything, except the waitress taking her order, and that, that might have been a recording. The woman was perky, cheerful, and had about as much humanity as the table did. The men at the bar, the family at the table next to hers -- everyone had that fake feeling, like they were mannequins given only the semblance of life.

Autumn ate her food. Then she left the town, walking out the opposite way she'd come in, and kept walking until she'd passed the town limits sign, and then further, until she could no longer see the sign when she turned around.
Read more... )
aldersprig: (Doorway to Clouds)


The poll has spoken!

The theme for January is Thresholds and Liminal Spaces. For a $5/month pledge, you can leave all the prompts you want.

Doorways literal and figurative, steps into new lives, leaving beyond the old - it's a good theme for a new year.

Prompt Here



This was originally posted on February 15, 2012; it's an early-ish story of Stranded world and it involves both thresholds and transitions.

🔨

"I think you should come hang out next weekend," Calgary told Autumn, over the last beer of the last day of Faire. "Bifur, Bofur, and Bombur are building a house."

"Seriously?" she raised an eyebrow. She was far too drunk to be polite when faced with that.

Calgary grinned, and quaffed her beer. "Three friends of mine, been together since college. Not Faire folk but fair folk, if you know what I mean...

Read Here
aldersprig: (Summer)
This is #BiWeek2016. Today, I'm looking at Stranded World and the sub-setting of Summer's unnamed college.

See "Still Gay? for an earlier story in this setting featuring the same theme.

Summer's threesome debuted here; their roommate Addison first appeared here.


Summer and Mellie and Bishop were snuggled on the loveseat, Summer in the middle, the way she so often seemed to be, munching on the homemade popcorn Mellie had just made. Add was curled in the chair, flipping channels idly, their eyes on the trio as much as they were on the screen.

"That," Bishop called. "Stop there."

That was an old, old episode of Baywatch. Add raised in eyebrow in Bishop's direction, squished as he was next to both his girlfriends.

Bishop grinned back at them, entirely unabashed. "Mellie likes to watch the slow-running," he explained, "and I'm pretty fond of young Hasselhoff."

"Ah." Add had a feeling their eyebrows were doing something wriggly. They set the remote down and reached for the chili-and-chocolate-coated popcorn. "Variety is the spice of life, aah?"

"And we do like things spicy," Summer agreed.
aldersprig: (Winter)


The story that began with this little series...

The RoundTree Siblings Prepare for Thanksgiving

The Family That Knots Together

A Family Tree

...is completed here on Patreon.

“Your mother is something else.”  Marina glanced at the back seat of WInter’s sensible and spacious sedan, where Mila and Henry were sleeping.  “Your family is… is something else.”

Winter smiled, because he thought it would make her uncomfortable if he frowned.  “Is that a good thing?”... (read on...)

Pledge now and read all my stories!

aldersprig: a red-heded freckled girl, smiling (Autumn)


Woven Together is a flash fiction about the problems with fate:
“The thing is, we’ve known each other forever.” Glenn leaned back in her chair until she could see Jake, sitting way on the other side of the dining hall. ”I mean, preschool. And I’ve had a crush on Jake since... oh, when we started doing crushes? Third grade maybe? And Jake...” She twisted her head the other way until she could see ‘Kota, sitting off with the theatre kids. ”Jake wants ‘Kota. I mean, even before we knew about...” Her hands took in the whole realm of sexuality in romance in one short, broad gestures.

“And Dakota?” ...

Continue reading on Patreon! Just $1/month to read everything posted - and the more subscribers I get, the more you get for your $1!

Want to prompt? Just $5/month to prompt; if you want even MORE stories, $7/month gets you a super-private Gold Leaf Club story.

Check it out!
aldersprig: (Summer)


The story that began with this little series...

A Wink...
Nothing Could Possib-lie Go Wrong (Summer)
Places One Doesn't Go (Winter)
At Home (Spring)
Sight and Sense (Autumn)

...is completed here on Patreon.

The man glared at Summer through the tilted fence panel. He wasn’t a pleasant-looking man; he had stringy hair and a weedy beard, a greasy, pallid complexion and notable body odor. But he was an important man, at least at the moment. “This is a private party!”

Summer’s cheeks were flushed and she was just about ready to die. She’d gone through this fence before — with her mother, when she was very young, then later with Winter and Autumn, and later still, all five of them together. She’d stepped a little sideways, and… what had gone wrong this time?

She coughed. “Sir, I’m sorry... (read on...)

Pledge now and read all my stories!
aldersprig: a red-heded freckled girl, smiling (Autumn)


This is what started the Stranded World - a short story, more the beginning of a tale than a story in and of itself, and the very beginning of my first NaNoWriMo novel, continuing it. The novel itself is, uh, not good. But this part, I think, is nicely indicative of the world & of Autumn.

Originally posted November 3rd, 2010 - as a Three-Word Wednesday!


“I heard you did divinations.”

It had been a quiet day, grey and chilly for early August, and Autumn had been putting the final touches on a new drawing of Grandmother Maple. The man’s intrusion was so unexpected, so sharp and abrupt, that only quick reflexes saved her from spilling her inkwell and ruining the whole thing.

“You want the blue tents over in Psychic Alley,” she answered without looking up, carefully capping her ink and setting her pen down.

read on...
aldersprig: a red-heded freckled girl, smiling (Autumn)
(You guys really like Stranded in Spring... Stranded was last the Patreon theme in April 2015...!)

the poll has spoken, and May's theme for my Patreon will be Stranded World.

You can find the Stranded tag here and a landing page woefully in need of updating here

Want to prompt? Support my Patreon at the $5/month level and all the prompt calls and feedback polls are open to you!

It's going to be a tangled-up bright-lights sort of month...!

Last year's stories were....
A Tangled Knot - not-family (E)
Tangles and Knots, Snarls and combs (P) Winter rescues Autumn
Strands and Connections - Autumn learning to be free (P)

P = Patreon-only
E = Everyone
aldersprig: a red-heded freckled girl, smiling (Autumn)
With the posting of a Summer story a moment ago, the Stranded prompts I opened to a tiny group of people (for reasons; I might try that again some time) are completed.

The list:
The "Festival" series:
A Wink...
Nothing Could Possib-lie Go Wrong (Summer)
Places One Doesn't Go (Winter)
At Home (Spring)
Sight and Sense (Autumn)

The others:
The Thing About Tangling... (Spring)
The Words of Magic
A Drabble of Summer

I'll offer continuations at the Giraffe Call rate of $1/100 words for the next week
Tip the Thorne-Author
aldersprig: (Summer)
More or less to [personal profile] eseme's prompt and a companion to Character Study: Melinda

Summer was always the last to go to sleep.

She liked the quiet moments at the end of the day, the way she could cuddle with a sleepy Bishop and Mellie until, one and then the other, they headed off to their giant cobbled-together bed. She liked stroking their hair and their backs while they watched TV or studied together - sometimes, despite all advice, both at once. She liked sleepy late-night kisses.

And then she strolled the house alone, listening to the noises the old place made, picking up this and that. Sometimes she would whisper charms for her family, charms for her lovers. Sometimes she'd just stay up studying.

Tonight, she wandered out to the back yard and stared up at the stars. It felt like they were watching, reminding her to be good.

Summer stuck her tongue out at them and went back inside, where the lights were warmer and less distant.
aldersprig: a red-heded freckled girl, smiling (Autumn)
After/concurrent with Nothing could possib-lie go wrong, Places One Doesn't Go, At Home, and A Wink.

The man with the eyeball tattoo was looking at Autumn when his eyebrows went up. His gaze slid off of her; Autumn glanced briefly, but he wasn't looking at anything obvious in the physical world.

She stepped inside her tent while his attention was elsewhere and shifted her own vision Strandward, looking for the disturbance that had clearly caught his attention. Just as she opened her vision, her own Strands yanked at her.

The tug was tangible and sudden, pulling her from three points like an off-balance marionette. She didn't need to look to know: the cool blue of Winter's
strand pulled from her right temple, where she'd painted his arrow under her hairline. The green-yellow of Summer's strand pulled from her breastbone, where she'd painted a mask. The orange-and-blue of Spring's strand yanked from down lower, where she'd painted the chaos sign just below her navel.

Her family was here, and they were doing... something. Autumn called to the woman in the next booth over to cover her till. Something strange was going on.
aldersprig: (Spring)
After/concurrent with Nothing could possib-lie go wrong and Places One Doesn't Go.

The fest was wild, and Spring and Lance were in the heart of it. A place like this didn't need too much tangling - so many people here were already quite twisted up, wound in with other people, braided in with their own stories. But it was still fun to watch the tangles and knots, and it was still just a fun place to be, where nobody would look sideways at the girl with chaos tattooed on her chest or the handsome man in the very-well-fit pants and silky shirt who somehow seemed at home in the sea of tie-dye and batik, ripped denim and torn flannel.

"You look perfect," Lance told her. "You're aligned exactly with this place, did you know that?"

Spring stretched up, fingers tickling the air. "I know. This place is my place. It's my people." She dropped her arms so she could wiggle her fingers at a man covered in black-ink tattoos. "It's like home, you know, like family? Can't stand to spend all your time there, but it's awesome when you go back for a bit."

"Excuse me." The voice cut across the cacophony, although it sounded both quiet and calm. "I believe you are mistaken about some important matters." There was no speaker visible. The sound was coming from the back fence.

Spring grabbed Lance's hand. "Speaking of family... we need to be over there. Now."
aldersprig: (Winter)
After /concurrent with “Nothing could possib-lie go wrong.”

“Hey, the insurance convention’s down the street!”

Festivals like this one were not exactly Winter’s cup of tea, nor were they his forte, nor were they a place of pleasure for him. They were loud and raucous, chaotic by nature, and crowded. And as much as he disliked them, other people disliked him being there.

“Look, man, I don’t know what they told you at the academy, but that’s just not undercover. Also, I’m not dealing anything illegal here.”

They were, however, the best place to meet other Strand-weavers, if you knew the proper places to look.

“Excuse me.” The woman in the pottery booth looked less likely to dislike him on sight than many. Her strands were calm and her peace was deep and thorough. “Have you seen anyone else who looks grossly out of…”

“Hey, who do you kids think you are! This is a private party!”

“Excuse me.” He nodded politely at the woman. “I think I see who I’m looking for now.”
aldersprig: (Winter)
This is in part to requests for non-Roundtree (Seasonal Siblings) Stranded stories, part in reply to [personal profile] anke's rather old request which I could not find if I'd fulfilled or not. And because the discussion around said request involved the Language of magic TV Tropes Page...

"Eye of the blind, open for me."

Most people, Nilsa knew, didn't need to do chanting.

"Feet of the crippled, walk forward for me."

As a matter of fact, in all of her time working with the Strands, she'd only met one other person who did formalized ritual with their Strand-spells (and only one other person who called them spells).

"Mouth of the mute, speak your words only to me."

She drew the final line in her chalk diagram and settled into the middle of it. She'd talked to several Workers who thought that her teaching had gone awry and that had caused her dependence on spell and ritual, and three who had heard of Strand-weavers who used rituals and chants.

"Windows gone dark, open your curtains to me."

Which was a lovely thing, in theory. She knew there had been others like her; she knew why, more or less, she was the way she was.

"Clock of the world, show what your hours have seen!"

But until now, she hadn't had a way to see why her teacher had crippled her Strand-weaving like this. She opened her eyes wide, as the projection began playing on the wall, thousands of Strands working together to make a video of the past.
aldersprig: (Summer)
I got lots of prompts for the triad but I'll call this [livejournal.com profile] kiarrith's.

Title from this Simpsons quote


"So, this is..." Bishop was usually the calm one, but today, he was nervous. He was't exactly shifting from foot to foot or anything, but that could be because they were walking rather quickly down Main Street, which didn't leave him room to fidget. "Well, what exactly is it?"

"Well, exactly..." Summer shot him a cheerful grin. "It's a bunch of things. It's a craft festival that the townies and the visiting parents love. It's a music festival after-hours that the students - and some of the townies - like. And its..." She gestured vaguely with both hands.

Mellie picked it up. "It's a thing for people like your family, right?"

"If you know the right places and the right people, yeah. There are Strand-workers everywhere." Summer tapped the wooden fence three times in a triangle, and a door swung open. "Like this place."

"Are you sure..." Bishop hesitated, his hand on the fence.

"Oh, come on," Summer coaxed. She had her bright smile on, the one that generally made either him or Mellie go along with her plans. "They're friendly folks, these people. Strand workers almost always are."

"Hey, who do you kids think you are! This is a private party!"

Summer's smile slid off her face.
aldersprig: (Spring)
This follows Tangled, Day Job, and Tangling isn't just a walk in the park.

"Ready to go?"

The thing about being a tangler...

"Hold on, just give me a minute..."

Is that you were touching strands all the time.

"Spring, my love, can you be organized for more than fifty seconds?"

And running your hands through other people's lines all the time.

"If you wanted someone organized, Lance, you should have bothered someone else's stars."

But you couldn't touch other people's strands...

"I didn't want anyone else's stars. Here's your left shoe."

...without getting tangled up yourself.

"Awesome. Now, where's my purse?"

And the thing about knots was...

"You didn't leave it on the bus again, did you?"

...they tended to manifest in strange ways when you weren't paying attention.

"No, no, you brought it home for me. Remember?"

...and when you were distracted, tangled up in someone else, it was easy to not pay attention.

"That's right... here it is. What would you do without me?"

"Oh, I'd get by. But it wouldn't be nearly as fun."

And the thing about being a tangler was...

"Well, I do aim to please."

...When you got tangled up, you got really tangled up.

"And that's what I love about you. Well, part of it."

Close with a kiss, and find yourself even further tangled.
aldersprig: a red-heded freckled girl, smiling (Autumn)
Written to [personal profile] inventrix's prompt to my Very Small Prompt call.

There was a man at the festival with an eye-tattoo that winked.

Autumn hadn't been sure the first time. There were several beautiful pieces of ink wandering around this 'fest - it was pushing a hundred degrees out, and everyone was wearing just about as little as they could get away with. And there was this man, topless and wearing short khaki shorts and Birkenstocks, and the eye centered on his spine had a perfectly-shaded iris. And then it was closed. And then there was the pupil again.

It had been a long day already and it was only noon, the first time she saw the tattoo. Autumn'd gotten herself some water, stepped into the shade of her tent, and munched on a nectarine.

The second time the man wandered by, she had a small set of strands laid out over the pathway. Dozens of people had stepped over them without knowing, brushing through them, hardly moving them.

The man with the eye on his back paused. Deliberately, he turned his back to her.

The iris was blue, the ice-hue that always tripped her up. It was looking straight at her.

The eye-tattoo blinked again and was back to a black-and-grey drawing. The man turned around, looking straight at Autumn. Deliberately, and with a sardonic grin, he winked at her.
aldersprig: (Summer)
So way back here, I said I wanted to get into the heads of two non-Addergoole side characters.

I asked Cal to pick a setting, and Cal picked Stranded. Which doesn't have a LOT of background characters.

So we have Melinda, who is dating Summer and Bishop.


Melinda woke up early.

She usually did - Summer liked to sleep as if she'd been running marathons one after another, and Bishop didn't like to go to bed until practically sunrise. That meant Summer got the middle and Bishop got the outside, and Mellie slipped out of bed while the sun was still just thinking about getting up itself.

She snuck out of the bedroom on bare feet, grabbing a robe as she went. Their roommates wouldn't be up for another hour or two either, which meant that she had the place to herself, just for a bit.

She settled on the back porch with her History of the Americas textbook, a big mug of tea, and her favorite highlighters. Truth be told, this was half of what she liked about waking up early: this was her time, to be shared with nobody.
aldersprig: a red-heded freckled girl, smiling (Autumn)
After Tangles and Knots, Snarls and Combs. Stranded World has a landing page here.

Autumn took a long, hot shower, paying for a motel room to do it in, taking the time and the soap and a brush from the dollar store. It was the end of Faire season. It was the end of her and Tatters, and she still hadn't quite processed that. It was... it was time to clean up all the old marks.

She washed every piece of ink off of her skin, scrubbed the skin raw where the ink had stained, washed herself until she felt, should she do more, she would have to start quoting MacBeth.

She dressed herself in clothes cleaned every bit as thoroughly although, because it had been at the laundromat, with slightly less soliloquy. She left her van with a friend she still trusted, rented the smallest car she could find, and started driving.

It did not occur to her until quite some time later that she was running away. But, skin bare of connections, clothing bare of scents and memories, she had detangled herself from both the heartache and the embarrassment and now she felt she just had to keep going until the strands shook loose from her.

When she reached the Pacific, she finally felt as if she could breathe again.
aldersprig: (Summer)
It was only Applebee's, but they were on college student salaries, after all, the food was good enough, and they could take the bus.

Summer sat between Bishop and Mellie, but they'd gotten one of the small round bar tables, so everyone was, technically, between everyone else: best of all worlds.

As a rule, they weren't that unusual: three college kids, out on a Saturday night. It wasn't until Summer stole a small kiss from Mellie that anyone looked askance at them, and it wasn't until Bishop responded by stealing his own kiss from Mellie that someone whispered to someone else at their table.

Summer didn't mind the stares. She was nineteen, she wasn't famous or looking for a Professional Job, and if people wanted to stare, it wouldn't be likely to hurt her at all.

But Mellie, the stares made her uncomfortable. Summer stole another kiss and pressed a blessing into it. Nothing to see here.

If making your girlfriend comfortable wasn't using your powers for good, she didn't know what was.




Un-slump-me prompt call
aldersprig: (Spring)
A Tangled Knot, the last of the April Patreon stories, has been posted:

The sun was out and, therefore, so were the students.

They sprawled across the quad, some of them making an attempt at reading, but many of them soaking up the first real warmth of spring without any concern for academics...



A Patronage of just $1/month will give you access to the rest of the Patreon stories!

Want input into the story prompts? A Patronage of $5/month lets you prompt to your heart's content and for $15/month you will get your own personal story!

Check it out!

April's theme was Stranded World. May's was Love Stories. And June's was Tír na Cali.

Want to help decide July's theme? Vote in the Poll!
aldersprig: a red-heded freckled girl, smiling (Autumn)


The Stranded universe - what do strands look like to those who work them?

There are several posts on Strand-Working magic at the beginning of the Stranded Landing Page

The Strands look a little different to everyone, but for the most part, they look to the othersense/third eye/call-it-what-you-will like multicolored glowing lines. Some are thick, some are thin, and everyone interprets the colors a little bit differently, but almost everyone who can perceive the Strands sees them this way.

(Of course, there are tricks for hiding what you've done with Strands, but that's an entirely different story).

Written to [livejournal.com profile] rix_scaedu's prompt here.

I still need lots more worldbuilding prompts! Check it out!
aldersprig: a red-heded freckled girl, smiling (Autumn)
Post here: https://www.patreon.com/creation?hid=2217655&rf=200475

Reading the Strands was all about connections: connections between people and events, people and places, people and other people. It was all about feeling and understanding those connections...

Autumn muses over a broken friendship and the way connections change over time, approx. 250 words.

Read this an all other Patreon stories for a donation of just $1/month!

https://www.patreon.com/aldersprig
aldersprig: a red-heded freckled girl, smiling (Autumn)
You, the Readers, have spoken - or at least six of you - and Stranded World will be the theme for April!

“So,” Winter explained to his younger sisters, “the world is like a giant spaghetti squash.” He jammed his fork into their dinner. “Everything looks solid, right? But,” he twisted the fork, “if you grab thing just the right way, you can see how it’s all made of long strands. Except in the case of the world, the strands are magic.”

His three younger sisters, used to taking Big Brother as the authority on everything, were still dubious.


The siblings Winter, Autumn, Summer, and Spring each manipulate and read the strands of the world in their own way, while attempting to live within the world as normally as possible. The Stranded World is contemporary fantasy, slice-of-life with a magical overtone, following the threads of their lives.

Its landing page is here.

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