Archive | January 2013

Transfer of Power

Jan16

For [personal profile] imaginaryfiend‘s prompt.

This is Shahin & Emrys’ daughter, in her second year of Addergoole, and Jeremiah and Rowan’s son, in his first year.

“All right.”

This had seemed like a clever idea when she’d implemented it. Her parents had done it, after all. One week each, and then mutually together.

She’d needed to one-up her mother, of course. So she’d said “Four months. Be mine for four months and then I’ll be yours for four months.”

Mangrove had agreed. Nobody had been surprised; Morganna wasn’t exactly an un-tempting package, and it was a better deal than anyone else was going to offer him.

But that had been four months ago. Four months ago, today had seemed a very long time off.

Today was here. She unlocked the collar from around his neck and set it on the dresser. “Mangrove cy’Valerian, I release you. You are your own man now, and no longer Mine. Walk your own route.”

That part was harder than she’d thought it would be. She liked having him as hers. He was a good Kept – he fought a bit, yelled a bit, and was just enough trouble to keep things interesting. He reminded her of her father and her brothers, without the uncomfortable difficulty of being a relation.

“A kiss?”

She offered it, rather than demanding it, finding herself worried that he’d say no. When he just smiled at her, her worry only grew.

“Mannie…” She hated the note of pleading that came into her voice. Thank all the gods that didn’t care, it looked like he did, too.

“Oh, come on, Morgue, I was only playing.” He tilted his head up. “A kiss.”

The kiss was long, and a little clingy on both their parts. “You taste different.” Mangrove licked his lips.

“Let’s see how I taste in a minute.” She slipped off her dress and dropped to her knees. “Mangrove cy’Valerian, for the next four months, I am Yours. I come to you bare and naked; what I have will come from your hands, and everything I am belongs to you.”

His hands wrapped loosely around her throat. “Morganna cy’Drake, you belong to me. For the next four months, you are Mine. My Name will shelter you and my hand will protect you. Everything you are is mine, and everything you need, I will give you.”

It felt like falling. She leaned back, closing her eyes, and let his hands cradle her. “I’m yours.”

“Yes.” His voice was warm and thick. “Yes, you are.”

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/453136.html. You can comment here or there.

Alder By Post

Jan16

Alder by Post

Things didn’t truly start getting fun until the whole class got in on the glitter-bombing.

Let me tell you about Alder by Post.

Once upon a time, [personal profile] eseme said to me, “why don’t you do your own postcard magazine?”

And I said, “Hunh, that sounds like a good idea.”

And thus Alder by Post was born.

Once a month, I send out a little postcard full to the margins with a little fiction.

Everybody knew that pixies and Tiny Folk hated each other…

She had been waiting, the stories said, for a hundred years…

I try to keep the stories light-hearted and safe for all audiences (my mother reads these). Some are drawn from my extant universes. Some are drawn from Giraffe Call prompts. Some are just stories that pop into my head.

Year two is just about to begin. Join us!

Alder by Post
1 year, US $20.00 USD
1 year, non-US $25.00 USD

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/453069.html. You can comment here or there.

Into the Doorway, a beginning for Facets of Dusk

Jan16

To Rix_Scaedu‘s prompt.

Facets of Dusk has a landing page here

This is the beginning of their first mission, so comes before almost everything.

They had their assignment.

They had several assignments. There was the primary mission and two spoken secondary missions. There were their individual assignments, overt and covert. And there were a couple that did not come from their nominal leaders.

They had their gear.

Alexa had her Diplomat Clothes, wrinkle-resistant, fast-drying, and professional-looking in almost any environment.

Cole had his weapons. All of them. He had basic survival gear and a full uniform with no insignia anywhere. And he had weapons.

Josie had her backpacking gear and an apothacary’s worth of herbal… things. Nobody knew what they were for, but they were light.

Peter had his instruments, and then some more instruments, and a large pad of paper. Nobody knew what they were all for, and some of them were heavy, but Peter carried them all.

Xenia had her weapons, her climbing gear, her survival gear, and her weapons. She weighed every single item, and discarded anything that would weigh her down.

Aerich, as far as they could tell, planned on going forth with an expensive suit, a stunning chin, and monumental arrogance. Very few of these weighed anything, at least.

They had their team.

Xenia shared a look with Cole. Both of them looked at Peter; Xenia’s lip curled. Cole glanced at Aerich, his hand resting on his gun. Aerich’s lip curled at Josie. Josie’s nose wrinkled at Xenia. Xenia looked sidelong at Alexa. And Alexa was giving Peter the stinkeye.

They had their door.

Alexa. It all came down to Aleandra Bianchi. Cole stepped up to one side of her, Xenia to the other. This ought to be a military operation. It ought to be an exploratory mission. Instead, it all hinged on a former diplomat with a barely-tested ability to open doors into other worlds.

Peter ran his instruments over the doorway – deep in the archives of the university, well-camouflaged by opening, mundanely, to a supply room full of microfiche. Three of his instruments screamed at him every time they got near. It was definitely The Door.

They had their orders. Alexa opened the Door. Six mavericks stepped into the doorway.

A team would step out.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/452614.html. You can comment here or there.

Mini Giraffe Call 2: Transitons

Jan16

Today’s Giraffe Call Theme is Transitions

The Call for Prompts is now CLOSED!

Leave one or many prompts, and I will write (over the next week) at least one microfic (150-500 words) to each prompter (prompts may be combined)

Prompts can be related to one of my extant settings (See my landing page-landing page) or they can be for something completely different.

Prompting is free! But Donations are always welcome.

For each $5 you donate, I will write an additional 500 words to the prompt(s) of your choice.

If I get two new prompters or one new donator, I will write a setting piece (setting chosen by poll) explaining something about the prompts.

Because this is a mini-Call, there will be mini-perks!

* For every $15 donated, one prompter chosen at random will get an extra fic written –
* For every $30 donated, one random prompter will get a 500-word continuation.
* Every-$60 level open for suggestions!!

Incentives will carry over the three mini-calls in January.


Words
500 $5.00 USD
750 $7.50 USD
1000 $10.00 USD
1250 $12.50 USD
1500 $15.00 USD
1750 $17.50 USD
2000 $20.00 USD

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/452571.html. You can comment here or there.

The ClockWork Collar, or The Princess of Al-ben, a kink-bingo mini-story in 25 parts. Poll 6

Jan15

Master and Slave (LJ)

“Yes.” His foot was on her neck. “You will be who I want. You will imbibe what I want. You will bleed if I want.”

Stavanna swallowed, hard, as he rolled her onto her back. “You will imbibe what I wish,” he repeated. “When it pleases me, and only then.”

Next: The Drug (LJ)

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/452253.html. You can comment here or there.

The ClockWork Collar, or The Princess of Al-ben, a kink-bingo mini-story in 25 parts. Part 6

Jan15

First: First: The Collar (LJ)

Previous: Either Way (LJ)

“I will be a good slave, Master.”

He untied her. “I think you will be. I think you will be perfect for me.”

She fell to her knees without prompting, and pressed her forehead to his feet. “You are my master.”

“I am.” She felt the click of the leash as he attached it to her collar, and the coolness of the chain down her back. “How will you serve me?”

That was terrifyingly close to the words of her Order. “I will serve you with all my heart.”

“And with both your hands?”

“And with my lips. And my soul, Master.” Now she was truly trapped.

Next: Body and Body (LJ)

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/451991.html. You can comment here or there.

Mini Giraffe Calls Day One

Jan15

This Morning’s Call was The Weather, and in a little over an hour, I received four prompts:

Mini Call One: The Weather
The Stars (LJ) (Facets, Alexa/Xenia)
Don’t Cry Baby (LJ) (Addergoole Yr 13)

The Planet Called “Oh, Fuck, We’re Screwed” (LJ)
Holy Fuck, It’s Snowing (LJ) (Vas World, just after the one above)

There are two mini calls still to go:

Wednesday, 1/16/13, from 12:30 – 1:20 p.m. EST, with a theme of transitions

and

Thursday, 1/17/13, from 9:15 – 10:15 p.m. EST, with a theme of seven deadly sins.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/451712.html. You can comment here or there.

The Stars, a story of Facets of Dusk for the Giraffe Call

Jan15

For cluudle‘s prompt.

This comes after Gender Play, here.

Facets of Dusk has a landing page here

“I can’t see the stars.” Alexa clutched Xenia’s hand. Alex. Today, she was he was Alex, and she-he-Alex was Xenia’s companion.

And her companion had the jitters. Xenia glanced up into the night sky. This world was dark at night, the only luminescence allowed thin strips along the sidewalks. Blackout curtains covered every window.

And tonight, there were no stars out at all. “That can’t be good.” She sniffed the air. The air was crisp, traffic being limited in daytime and, of course, totally missing at night. Somewhere, someone was burning a roast. A hot dog vendor – or this world’s equivalent – must be right around the corner.

And over it all, the smell of ozone and the suggestion of something very, very larger. “Lex, we need to get inside. Now.”

“We’re still three blocks from the party.”

“We should be close to the Tyen Tunnel our contact told us about.”

“But we were going to get some fresh air.”

Either Alex-a was playing her role too well, or she’d just gotten a little too used to being the one in the front of the charge. “Go… Goram fuck it, Alex, if you don’t get in that building right now, I am going to turn your ass a beautiful shade of purple when we get home.”

Alex-a meeped, and moved. “Xen…”

“Complain later, move now.”

Down the street, she could hear the hot dog vendor cheering. “Tell him who’s boss, sister.” She shoved Alex-a through the revolving door to the tunnel entrance as the skies opened op and the rain poured down.

“Turn my ass purple?” Alex-a muttered.

“Stay in character, and I won’t.” They watched the rain come down, washing the streets clean. More than washing; it looked like it was etching the pavement. No wonder there haven’t been many people out. “Well. That’s why your stars are missing.”

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/451560.html. You can comment here or there.

Don’t Cry, Baby

Jan15

To moonwolf1988‘s prompt.

Year 13, Reveal (Lunch time on the First Friday).

“Don’t cry, baby. When you cry, the sky cries with you.”

Amaya’s daddy had said that to her, growing up. He’d point out the window at the encroaching clouds, or the storm, or the shower, and say the same thing, every time.

When she tripped and skinned her knee.

“Don’t cry, baby.”

When she failed her first class

“When you cry…”

When her date to homecoming left her all lone.

“…the sky cries with you.”

When she stepped on the plane to leave everything behind.

“Don’t cry baby.”

“I know, Daddy. The plane won’t fly through turbulence.”

“And when you get upset, things get pretty turbulent.” He patted her shoulder and sent her off.

Off to… this place. This strange place with its strange people and its strange… everything. She looked around again, as if that would make it better.

She’d thought Beckett was pretty cute. He had a tail. A tail.

She wasn’t sure about Irvy, but she was certain he had scales. That was just unfair.

And Edan. He had a voice that calmed her right down, wicked cool tats, and he was in the only band Addergoole seemed to sport. But he was sporting prickly fur down his back and a personal field of ice-cold air. It was too much.

Way too much. She gulped, swallowed, and tried to find something safe for her eyes to settle on. Aleron. Aleron was cute, cute, and nice, and very taken…

…and sporting a pair of wide, green wings.

The air above the Dining Hall opened up with rain.

Amaya’s wiki page (thin as it is) is here – http://agyearnine.wikispaces.com/Amaya

Amaya Year 14 – http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/672732.html

Edited and updated – https://www.patreon.com/posts/dont-cry-baby-5213821

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/451135.html. You can comment here or there.

Holy Fuck, It’s Snowing, a Story of Vas’ World (@dahob)

Jan15

For @Dahob’s prompt; this happens concurrent with The Planet Called “Oh, Fuck, We’re Screwed,” (LJ)

“Holy Fuck. It’s snowing.”

Of all of them, Tarval had been the most resistant to the “it’s getting cold” idea. Although meteorology was not his primary or even his secondary skill, he had been an amateur weather-watcher on his home planet of Teyska, and had been certain the signs pointed towards a chilly but dry, mild “so-called winter.”

Besides, the trees didn’t like him, and he didn’t like them.

He had continued to do his own thing – preparing for the mild, brief cold snap he was expecting – and continued to tell everyone they were crazy for listening to trees, trees that tried to eat people, and not to the signs of the weather.

When the wind had changed direction suddenly, he’d taken it as a personal affront.

When the temperature had dropped degree after degree after degree in a few short hours, he’d joined everyone else in pulling every piece of fruit off the vines, herding the animals into the town square, and hunting and fishing a few last meat animals. “Brief cold,” he’d repeated, over and over again. But, less certainly, “no need to take unnecessary risks.”

He’d been the last one out as the temperature dropped past into the negative degrees. The animals were his purview, and he needed to be sure they were all safe.

He was fixing the halter on a gen-mod horse when the skies went from light grey to dark, and he’d just finished rigging a roof over their paddock when the stuff hit him in the face.

Everyone in the village heard his exclamation.

“Holy Fuck! It’s snowing!”

They needed the laugh, and they all took it. Even Tarval.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/451034.html. You can comment here or there.