Archive | January 2015

The Ramifications of Hair, a continuation

Jan7

Written as [personal profile] wyld_dandelyon‘s commissioned continuation of Tricked out for her pleasure.

Joe was bound to the bed, naked, as far as he could tell, except for too-many-piercings, and there was an elf woman on top of him. As far as slavery went, this was not what had been in the brochure.

Not that there’d been a brochure, unless you counted I Was A Slave In California documentaries, and Joe had watched more than a few of those, usually while very drunk or very hung-over.

Very hung-over was not dissimilar to the way he was feeling right now. It was like his face had been wrapped in blankets and now he was beginning to see the light – except that right now, the light was either a pillow or a lot of hair.

Hair. She’d said something about braiding. Joe forced himself to pay attention to the situation at hand. “I… I can hold still.” He shook his left wrist, making the chain jangle. “There’s not much option anyway, is there?” He turned his head to look at the elf-woman, but succeeded only in getting a mouthful of hair.

She chuckled throatily at him. “There is always an option. You’re lovely, did I mention?”

Joe coughed. “That’s not what I’m used to people saying.”

“Oh, well, Americans.” She gathered handfuls of his hair in her hands and began finger-combing it. The sensation was strangely pleasant. “They like big, bulging sorts, don’t they? Football players?”

“Mmm. Manly men.” He sounded bitter, and felt a little guilty about it. His country was better than this, than slavery, wasn’t it? Except nobody had told him slavery was about naked women braiding his hair.

“Manly men.” The woman chuckled. “My name is Carienne, by the way. Baroness Carienne ni Scholta O Rhinne, but when we’re alone like this, you can call me Cari.”

Joe tried it out. “Cari.” It sounded like a teenager, not like – “So. I think I remember you buying me?” Wow, that was awkward.

She began finger-combing his hair, pushing a bunch of it to one side of him, a bunch to the other. “I bought you,” she agrees. “You were very well drugged. I was curious to see what you’d be like when you surfaced.”

“Other than tied to the bed?” He jangled one cuff for emphasis. Her hands felt good on his scalp. Nobody had said anything about slavery felt good.

Well, that wasn’t right. But it wasn’t supposed to feel good.

“Other than tied to the bed, yes.” She chuckled. “So, do you think the drugs are gone yet?”

“Well…” Joe thought about it for a moment. “I’m starting to freak out. Because you took me somewhere – and then I had hair. Like, lots of hair. That wasn’t a dream, was it?”

A tug on his head answered the question. He turned as much as he could, and saw the mass of black-and-brown in Cari’s hands. “No. Not a dream.”

“But it’s impossible. I mean, I don’t think that was just a weave…”

She gave another tug, a firmer one this time. Joe swallowed a gasp. “No. not a weave.”

“So…” One things the documentaries had hinted at but never said outright. Joe put his face down on the pillow and let it muffle his answer. “So magic is real?”

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/881454.html. You can comment here or there.

Some Perspective, another part of Luke at Doomsday (@inventrix)

Jan7

First: Visiting Doomsday
Previous: Science & Getting Schooled.

“You teach there?” The girl was staring at him. Luke twitched his wings and met her gaze. She was maybe thirteen or fourteen, a bit of baby chub on her cheeks, and a face shape he’d seen before.

Addergoole had had something like two thousand students; he’d seen any number of faces, even if a tenth of them had looked like Aelfgar and another tenth like Ambrus. He couldn’t place the face. But the glare was definite and right here in front of him.

He flapped his wings again. “I helped found Addergoole.” There was no point in denying it.

“You made that – that – that torture-hole, and they let you walk around like a person?”

“LaKeziah.” Leo cut in, sounding adult and stern. “You can talk to sa’Hunting Hawk after class.”

“Oh, I’ll talk to him.” She gave him a nice long glare before turning back into her seat, muttering things about torturers and baby factories.

Luke pulled his wings in tight. At the front of the classroom, Leo shifted his posture. “As I was saying, Luke sa’Hunting Hawk was my Mentor, back in the Dark Ages when I was a student.” He smiled at the class, inviting them to take part in the joke.

Some of them chuckled. Some were staring at LaKeziah. One of them, a ginger boy with wide, blue eyes, was staring at Luke. He nodded politely at the boy and turned his attention back to Leo.

“He taught me how to fight.”

Leo nodded at Luke. Luke nodded back again, feeling like a bobble-head.

This was not putting on a good show. Mike would glare at him. Luke cleared his throat. “Ah. Yeah. I teach martial arts, physical education, self-defense, and basic weapons training at Addergoole. Your professor Inazuma was my student, back before the…” the world ended. But it hadn’t, had it? Not for these kids, who could have grandparents born after the conflict. Luke coughed. “Back before the Collapse.”

One of the kids, the ginger one, saved him. “What was it like? Back then?”

“Well – if it’s okay with Professor Inzuma?”

“Sure, of course.” Leofric pulled up a chair. “Chemistry will still be here tomorrow – probably.”

“Probably.” Luke took a chair from an empty desk and sat backwards in it. “You all know that fae – Ellehemaei – live a long time, right?” He saw nods, even from the angry girl. LaKeziah. He needed to remember that name. “So I was born over two hundred years before the Collapse, and my friend Mike was born more than two hundred years before that.”

The ginger boy was counting on his fingers. “So… before the discovery of America?”

“Before the white man discovered America, yes.” Luke grinned. “I think Nehara’s people – and some of mine – would say it had already been plenty discovered.”

The ginger kid coughed. “Sorry, sir. Just – that’s a long time.”

“Maybe if he’s very good, I’ll have Mike visit you.”

“Don’t you mean ‘if we’re very good?”

Luke found his grin stretching. “Nope. Not when it comes to Mike.”

“That one’s never good,” LaKeziah grumbled. Luke ignored her, in part because it too close for comfort. He nodded at the ginger kid instead. “So… what was your name?”

“Rueben, sir.”

“So, Rueben, it really is a long time. And it’s a really long time when you’re looking at the way civilizations rise and fall.” He looked around the room, both at the students and at the room itself. “I was born in a longhouse, before telephone, television, running water, or electricity. And here we are, where most places don’t have any of those things again.”

One of the other children shifted in her seat. Luke nodded at her. She had deep green eyes and dark brown hair. “You have a question, Miss?”

“Banyan, sir. It’s… was there really a time when everyone had telephones and running water? I mean, in the enclave where I grew up, they said those things had always been rationed.”

“I’m beginning to think the enclaves teach a lot of bad history.” Luke tried not to grumble it; it wasn’t the girl’s fault. “But the truth is, there was never a time when everyone in the world had electricity or running water. But when the collapse came – when the Old Gods came back through the rifts from Ellehem – there were something like seven billion people on the planet.”

He watched their faces. They hadn’t flinched at Old Gods, although some of them made various gestures of protection. One girl even crossed herself. But at seven billion people, they balked.

“No way.” Reuben shook his head. “Seven billion? Professor Lily said three hundred million.”

“Don’t be a dork, Reuben.” One of the other boys in the year punched the ginger boy in the arm. “She said three hundred million in America.“

“Oh.” Reuben sank back down in his seat. “Sorry, sir.”

“That’s quite all right.” Luke couldn’t help but smirk. “Lots of people have made the mistake of thinking America is the world. But now – the giant nations are gone. And ‘America’ isn’t a bastion of technology anymore.”

“Do you think it ever will be again, sir?” Banyan was leaning forward in her seat. Luke took a breath and gave the question the consideration it deserved.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/881337.html. You can comment here or there.

Thanks, a ficlet of Tir na Cali from the New Years’ Call

Jan6

He hand-picked her from the fields – a formerly angry former-American who had been beat down by the sun and the rain and the hard work. He gave her a new collar, pretty and silver and far lighter than her old one, and she thanked him for it.

So he gave her a place in his bed at night, and her own place to rest during the day, with soft sheets and a solid roof over her head. She thanked him for it, both with words and with her body.

And thus he gave her fine silks to wear and fine food to eat; he gave her easy work and kept the foreman from her. He gave her a golden cage – the room, with gilded-grilled windows, the collar, with its lovely leash, the clothing, too frail to survive outside. And she bowed down and kissed his feet and thanked him for it.

He gave her a day outside in the garden, sunbathing the way few Californian nobles did, an hour of privacy, because she had been so good to him. And she thanked him for it…

Oh, yes, did she give him what he deserved for it.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/880998.html. You can comment here or there.

Trope Bingo – Faoedus Planetarum – The Tod’cxeckz’ri Paper Part I

Jan6

To fill square one-one on my card for [community profile] trope_bingo. Story one of a new series. No Ao3 standard warnings apply.

“I need to claim this criminal as my lawful catch and bounty.” Jahnan repeated the phrase three times – once in Standard to the clerk, then again in Standard to the translation machine, and then in the local language – all while trying to maintain her hold on the criminal in question.

“Your Tod’cxeckz’ret is awful.” Her captive jerked, trying to pull away from her grip. Jahnan held on for life and profit. Not only did Yira Trembane outmass her considerably and have at least a decimeter in height on her, but he was slippery as all space and had gotten out of his bonds three times since she’d caught him. “Here, let me.” He looked at the clerk and spat out a line of Tod’cxeckz’ret, then translated into Standard. “She’s here to collect the bounty on me.”

“You’re awfully helpful all of a sudden.” Jahnan regained her grip on Yira’s forearm. She wasn’t losing this one, not again.

“Prisons are easier to get away from than you. Sooner I’m in custody-”

“The sooner you’re out and earning me another bounty. Fine.” She looked up at the clerk. “Claim?” She tried the Tod’cxeckz’ret word again, “Get’geld?”

“Yes, yes.” The clerk churred and clicked at the translator, which responded in a brusque tone in Standard. “Here, then, standard form, both of you thumbprint, sign, here.”

Jahnan expected Yira to balk, but once again, he cooperated. From the way he pricked his thumb and smeared the blood on the paper, he’d done this as many times as Jahnan herself had.

“Very good.” The clerk filed the paper away behind the desk. “If Yira Trembane would kneel to facilitate process, please?”

“Slip that to a black hole sideways.” Yira took a step back, pulling against Jahnan’s arm. “I don’t kneel.”

“If hon Trembane would kneel, process will be completed quickly.” The clerk stepped out from behind the desk; he was nearly as short as Jahnan, only coming up to Yira’s chin.

“You want to get out of here as much as I do,” Jahnan pointed out. “I want my wages, Trembane.”

“And I want my nice cozy prison cell,” he growled. “But I don’t do kneeling.”

The clerk produced a hand-held Taser. “Hon Trembane will kneel or hon Trembane will be helped to kneel. The process must be done properly.”

“Starcrud, I got it, I got it.” Yira’s hands were handcuffed behind his back, but he knelt gracefully anyway. “Next time you catch me, hunter, let’s skip Tod’cxeckza, all right?”

“Next time I catch you, I’m gonna put you in a coldsleep canister and tow you behind my ship.”

“Hon Trembane will not have to worry about that again.” The clerk set his hands around Yira’s neck, so quickly that the thief didn’t have a chance to pull away, and just as quickly removed them.

Where his hands had been, a solid circle of metal now sat.

“If hon Nehanani would sit, please?”

Jahnan pulled up a chair. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Yira twisting and turning, trying to see what had been done to him. “You’re not doing that to me.”

“Of course not. Hon Nehanani has laid the claim.” The clerk showed her what he was holding – a bracelet of the same silvery metal as the collar Yira was wearing and a complicated earring.

She’d never said no to jewelry from strange men before. Jahnan sat down and allowed the clerk to apply the earring and bracelet: earring to right side, bracelet to left.

“There.” The clerk stepped back. “Hons Nehanani and Trembane are now bound and joined in Tod’cxeckz’ri Kozel-kiczka marriage. That is, ah.” The clerk gave the matter a moment of thought, “the closest approximation in Standard would be… master and servant?

“Wait, what?” Yira bounced to his feet faster than he thought possible. “No, no, no, get this thing off of me.”

“Marriage?” Jahnan shook her head. The earring jingled and jangled against her head. “You have got to be kidding me.”

“You claimed hon Trembane as yours and he agreed. Formal marriage ceremony has taken place, and you have thumb-printed the contract.”

That’s what she got for not reading the small print. “Okay, okay. But we didn’t want to get – damnit, Trambane, I think the translator is getting it mangled, you try.”

He clicked and churred through the Tod’cxeckz’ret phrases. “We don’t want to be bound together. This was a mistake. How do we undo it?”

“Tod’cxeckz’ri Kozel-kiczka marriages cannot be divorced, but they can be annulled.” The clerk passed Jahnan a list, written in Standard, Tod’cxeckz’ret, and five other languages. “To obtain an annulment, you must have a notarized document from one of these relations, stating that Hon Trembane is unfit for marriage.”

“Me? What about her?”

“You are the kiczka. The fault must lie in you.” The clerk nodded at them. “You have thirty days.”

Jahnan read over the paper again. “Well, shit. Come on, kiczka -husband. Let’s get searching.”

Next:The Tod’cxeckz’ri Paper Part II

Notes:
Tod’cxeckz’ret is pronounced with glottal stops in the apostrophes; the syllables rhyme with Todd, check, and whet.
Jahnan is pronounced with a hard J (John) and stress on the second syllable with a breathy sound on the H. Her full name is Nehanani Jahnan.
Yira is pronounced Yee-ruh.
Hon is pronounced on

The IPA for the above, courtesy of [personal profile] thnidu:
[tɒdʔʧɛkzʔrɛt]
[ʤɑ͡ɑ̥ˈnɑn]
[jirə]
[ɒn]

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/880894.html. You can comment here or there.

December Meme Day Eighteen – TV Shows

Jan6

The Meme

Today’s prompt is from [personal profile] lilfluff: What shows/movies would you like to see rebooted?

Hrrrmmmmmmm~~

Off the top of my head, shows that ended too soon:

Eureka, which was just plain fun 90% of the time and squirrely and weird the rest of the time. I would totally watch another seven or ten seasons of that.

Dollhouse, although it might require a complete reboot, considering how weird things went in the second half of the last season.

Almost Human Almost Human Almost Human. This was such a good show and I want to know all these things about it.

Movies – there’s less of these. I tend to watch movies and be done with them, so I can’t really tell you any movies I want to see redone. I mean, the last time I went to the movies, all the previews were sequels anyway! Anything I wanna see will probably come around.

I’d like a new Star Trek series. Or a reboot of Enterprise without the time-travelling Nazi aliens. It’s been too long since there’s been proper Star Trek on TV.

And it’s a pity there wasn’t a finale for BSG. Maybe they could do something about that.

*looks at list* So *cough* I like Sci-fi, maybe?

They should totally do a new Bab 5 series, too. And then Hercules in Space – I mean Andromeda, but only if they get Keith Hamilton Cobb back.

And then I’d like to see some CSI: Vegas back on tv. Properly, I mean.

I think that’s it. 😀 😀

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/880417.html. You can comment here or there.

While I’m thinking about icons…

Jan6

(here is me begging for help on icons)

…Here’s a description of a new character, who I named before all the name suggestions came through (so I’ll use the names elsewhere in the story).

Jehnan has dyed-anime-orange hair which she wears in a pixie cut: http://www.short-haircut.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/03/Pixie-haircut-2013.jpg
(color: http://images4.fanpop.com/image/photos/20700000/Short-Bright-Orange-Hair-hayley-williams-hair-20709440-1000-1000.jpg)

She had mid-brown skin http://www.bellanaija.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/07/brownskin-Isio-Knows-Better-BellaNaija-July-2014.png (Clay 3-4)
and a sweet, cute face, which contrasts with her no-nonsense clothes and attitude.

She’s got a forked tongue, a long one, although that doesn’t have to make it in the picture

She’s wearing an earring like this: http://mylochka.deviantart.com/art/Bajoran-Earrings-for-M4-202380669 in her right ear (green colored bits)

She’s also wearing a black-widow style jumpsuit http://ep.yimg.com/ay/yhst-130817123929166/the-avengers-black-widow-lifesized-standup-1.jpg

She’s built like a gymnast, on the short side, study, with very small breasts.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/880271.html. You can comment here or there.

I’m rubbish at making decisions…

Jan6

Chress & Arissa: http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/820967.html (Rock, Hard place)
I have a vague idea of what he looks like and a vaguer idea of her.

Edora & Rodegard http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/831779.html – no idea at all, except age (princeling/Mentor)

Daxton & the merc: http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/820052.html – no idea, except body type

So, whoever I get an icon/art of I’ll write more of.

I really want to write Edora/Rodgard/the Princessa as a love triangle romance novel; I really want to play with Chress and Arissa. I’ve sort of gotten to the end of what I planned with Daxton & the mec, but I could write more.

*chews on lip*

*chews on lip more*

Help? Whoever I do, I have to figure out what they look like.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/879971.html. You can comment here or there.

Meme-me-mememememe, “Turn Left.”

Jan5

From [personal profile] recessional:

Inspired by Doctor Who’s “Turn Left”: Pick one of my stories and tell me a point in the tale that you’d change. Something tiny (e.g. “and then Fay chose silver glitter instead of gold”) or big (e.g. “and then Rose was arrested instead of Jack”) and I’ll tell you how that one difference would have altered the course of the entire story.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/879802.html. You can comment here or there.

Being A Puppy, A continuation of “Puppies.”

Jan5

Puppies!

Davyn didn’t know where he was. Well, he was in a kennel, yes. He was in a locked kennel that had been moving for a while, that, yes. But the kennel wasn’t quite moving anymore. It felt like he was in a car – in a trunk, maybe? That would be awful – and the car was moving.

“Bark?” he tried quietly.

“Good puppy, that’s it.” The girl’s voice came from very close – like she was sitting next to Davyn’s kennel. But if she was there, who was driving?

“Listen, my parents are – ow, ow… oww.”

“Good puppies stay quiet, puppy. Now, what do you think I should call you?”

Davyn whined. He had a name. He had parents, who might actually miss him. He had a home, and this whole thing had been a horrible, awful, no-good plan.

“Let’s see. I think… Spots?”

No, no, whether or not he had freckles, he did NOT want to be Spots. Davyn whined louder, hoping he could get away with that much.

“Mmm. All right. I think Fleet. Fleet’s a good dog name, don’t you think?”

Davyn stayed quiet. There was nothing he could say to that. Heck, there was nothing he could say, period, not without getting zapped.

“That’s a good puppy. And here we are! We’re going to have so much fun, you and me, pup. Fleet. You’re going to be a good Fleet for me, aren’t you?”

What had he gotten himself into? Davyn stayed quiet, and hoped the crazy woman would at least remember to feed him.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/879458.html. You can comment here or there.

Name/Describe/etc my characters

Jan5

Okay, so for http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/878993.html ([personal profile] trope), I am creating a Whole New World!

Considering that pile of tropes, I am writing a romance/buddy comedy/something/detective story through space and possibly time. That means (lots of things, but for the moment, it means:) I have two protagonists, and because of my own pile of tropes (this is for fun, after all), one is male and one is female.

He is physically and possibly psychically stronger and bigger than her; she is likely smarter than him. He’s a criminal (but not irredeemable); she’s a bounty hunter.

That being said, I have nothing else determined about them, except that they are both “human”.

“Human” in this case, as this is a space story, covers a wide array of Roddenberry-alien-type modifications and alterations on a bilaterally symmetrical biped with the head on top, as well as a wide range of cultures.

So: what are their names, what do they look like, what can you tell me about their history? (I know a couple things about his and nothing about hers).

Edited to add: feel free to give me a single trait, like “he wears his hair in braids” or “she has green hair.”

* She’s fit and wears practical clothes.
* They’re travelling in her vehicle.
* Her father was a prostitute!
* She has naturally green hair but she dyes it orange.
* He has skull ridges/tentacles? that LOOK like braids.
* Assyra – female name
* Emmeth – male name
Or
* his name ends in an A
* She has a prehensile, forked tongue.
* He really loves orchestral music.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/879238.html. You can comment here or there.