Archives

She Understood… a story beginning written off of a 7th Sanctum prompt

Feb17

From this prompt generator: http://www.seventhsanctum.com/generate.php?Genname=writeprompt

There, in the hyperspace beacon, she understood evil. That woman, with her statues and her beautiful desks, filled with beautiful pens and inkwells, that woman, who surrounded herself in the handicrafts of bygone eras and far-flung worlds…

…she stood in the glaring radiation of the most modern thing she could find, and understood what every piece of every culture she could touch could not explain to her.

The Ruler, for it was she, stood in the cold blue light, staring out at the new world they had found, and felt chilled to the bone. She had found what she’d been looking for. At long last, she had reached understanding.

She reached out towards her desks and her statues, her pens and her rag paper, but there was nothing there that could cleanse the stain from her mind.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1067397.html. You can comment here or there.

Let’s Play Turnabout

Nov9

Content includes insinuated rough sex and manipulation.

“That’s it, my Master. Lay down, right here.”

Landyn wasn’t sure why he’d agreed to this. He was the Master, as she’d said, and she was his slave, bought on the market, fair and square. She’d been marked and collared and chained. She was a possession.

And he was a Noble.

But “let’s play,” Keely had suggested. Keely liked to play, and for some reason, Landyn always found himself agreeing to her games.

“Let’s play,” she’d said, and they’d been running around the forgotten sections of the old Habitat. “Let’s play,” she’s purred, and they’d put on Citizen’s jumpsuits and covered her collar and his tattoos with scarves and jewelry and gone running through the town-bubbles like they were just normal Citizen kids. “Let’s play,” she’d whispered, and they’d dressed up in their finest and crashed the wedding of a rich Citizen’s eldest daughter.

“Let’s play,” she’d suggested, and now Landyn was wearing no clothes at all, nothing except a makeshift collar made of his own belt, face down on the bed while his own slave crawled up over him, her long hair dangling over his back and the token chains on her wrists and ankles jingling.

“This isn’t how it happens, not really,” she whispered in his ear. “Because I like you, my Master. And because you play with me. And because you’re a Noble. If we played for real, if we did it the way it happens…”

“What?” Landyn’s voice was muffled against the pillow. He craned his neck, trying to look at her.

Keely put her hand over his eyes, blocking his view. “The way it happens when you become a thing. When they take it all away from you.”

Landyn swallowed. “Just play, you said. Just play.”

Her hand trailed over his back. “Just play, of course, my Master.” Her fingers slid down lower, down to the bottom of his spine. “Like I said, you’re a Noble. And everyone knows that the Nobles couldn’t handle the hard life.”

It stung his pride, even as he found himself lifting his hips to her touch. “I’m not weak. I’m not delicate.”

“Of course not, my Master. Bite the pillow, that’s a good boy, and show me how not delicate you are.”

Landyn wasn’t sure why he’d agreed to this, but as he arched to her touch, he knew there was no way he was going to back out this time. He wasn’t weak. He wasn’t some frail Habitat-hider. He’d been out in town. He’d…

As his moans grew louder and she shoved his face into the pillow, as he bit down on the feathers, transfixed between pain and pleasure, it occurred to Landyn, if only for a moment, that perhaps that was exactly what Keely wanted him to try to prove.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1007058.html. You can comment here or there.

The Invasion of the Kaa-Tah

Sep25

The Kaa-tah arrived in early Spring, as the snow was melting. They came down in unsettled areas, their small landing craft hiding easily in forests, in deep grass, in rolling hills. They were picked up on radar, but even so, falling a few a day, all over the globe, it took the world’s authorities too long to recognize the invasion for what it was.

The Kaa-tah did not immediately engage local populations; instead, they put the robots and tools they had brought to good use, building structures, setting up small, isolated settlements and beginning to manufacture more tools, more advanced robots.

The first humans to discover Kaa-tah-eh settlements were gently rebuffed, sent away with a light smattering of weapons fire. Continue reading →

The Invasion of the Kaa-Tah, a story for Patreon free for all to read

Sep24

The Invasion of the Kaa-Tah

The Kaa-tah arrived in early Spring, as the snow was melting. They came down in unsettled areas, their small landing craft hiding easily in forests, in deep grass, in rolling hills. They were picked up on radar, but even so, falling a few a day, all over the globe, it took the world’s authorities too long to recognize the invasion for what it was.

The Kaa-tah did not immediately engage local populations; instead, they put the robots and tools they had brought to good use, building structures, setting up small, isolated settlements and beginning to manufacture more tools, more advanced robots.

The first humans to discover Kaa-tah-ah settlements were gently rebuffed, sent away with a light smattering of weapons fire…

read on…

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/985037.html. You can comment here or there.

Rough Landing, a story for the Giraffe Call (@ellen_million)

May13

Written to ellenmillion‘s prompt here to my Giraffe Call!

The trip had been, by turns, terrifying, nauseating, and strange, but, stuck in the cargo hold, there had been nothing they could do but wait it out. The door to the rest of the ship did not open from the inside, and the food was delivered via a very well-designed dumbwaiter that would not move upwards if laden with more than it had come down with.

The measures that had been designed to keep involuntary passengers under control very likely saved their life when the freighter encountered trouble. The first they knew of it was the sound like metal screaming and the sudden sensation of moving very quickly in the wrong direction.

They scrambled for their bunks, the thin mattresses and straps designed to be just about the minimum required protection against re-entry pressures, holding on to their lash-in straps. They tried not to scream, tried not to cry, but the world had just gotten even stranger, and few of them stayed stoic. At least one of them prayed.

The impact was awful, a bone-jarring, tooth-shaking crash. The secondary impact – what they would later learn was the rest of the ship crashing to the ground – bounced their portion of the ship again and shook loose what cargo that hadn’t shaken loose the first time. Kegs of rum and whisky rolled everywhere, followed by the heavy cases of Schirsner ore. The best Donegal dust-silk landed on top one set of bunks – bales and bales of it, but at least it was softer than the whisky kegs.

Nur got to her feet first. She was the oldest of the cargo hold’s sentient stock, just past her fifteenth birthday. She’d held together on the journey by minding the younger kids, telling them stories, singing them songs.

Now she started counting heads and pulling kids out of bunks. “It’s all right. We’re going to be fine. Someone will find us soon. It’s a big freighter. Someone will notice. It’s all right… Where’s Tod?”

She gathered them together, injured or no, scared or crying or wetted or no, in the clearest place in the center of the cargo hold. The whole thing was listing at a shallow angle, but it was, at least, not moving. “We’re going to be okay,” she lied to them, like she’d been reassuring them since they’d been loaded into the ship. “Just like the Swiss Family Robinson. Have I told you that one yet?”


If you want more – and I definitely have more in mind for this one! – drop a tip in the tip pack below.

Giraffe Call rates apply: $1/100 words.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/939241.html. You can comment here or there.

The Ruins of the Caschitari, for the micropromptcall

Dec31

By the time the Earth ships found the Caschitari, it was too late. The Puradoon had already been through, and had wiped out everything; every building bigger than a shack had been knocked down, every lifeform they could find had been destroyed; the libraries, the data centers, the cultural spots had all been ashed.

From the readings, the human scientists estimated the Puradoon had come through about a decade past. They did that, the Puradoon, washed through star systems like locusts. Earth was close to stopping them – but too late for the Caschitari.

Or so they thought. Until the sensors picked up strange readings, deep in the basement of what had been the great museum of the Caschitari. A seed? A seed, the scientists agreed. A seed of…

They brushed dirt off of an ancient drinking vessel, and noises began. Talking noises, whispers, at first, and then louder. Building noises, all at once.

From the tiny seed deep in a drinking vessel, the Caschitari civilization was rebuilding itself.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/875008.html. You can comment here or there.

Planet Rules, a ficlet for the Genderfunky prompt call (@anke)

Oct6

Reyne tried to make a point of meeting all new visitors to the planet at the spaceport. For one, as cultural attache, it was part of the job. For another – Reyne liked the Mestaron, but they were extremely, extremely touchy about certain things – much as many humans were, come to think about it – and there had already been too many “incidents.” Humans might be touchy, but it didn’t mean they were cautious about others’ touchiness when visiting other planets.

(It was a bit surprising that Reyne had been allowed to keep the position of cultural attache, once that first report, the one with the bolding and the caps-lock, had gone through, but part of the bolding-caps-lock-side-bar had covered the unusual situation of Reyne and others of similar unusualities.)

This particular contingent, however, Reyne made a point of taking a shuttle up to their ship and meeting them before they even thought about touching down. Dressed carefully, in clothing that was sufficiently formal to impress, sufficiently Mestaron-like to discomfit, and specifically and entirely androgynous, Reyne greeted each of the VIPs first in the current style of the Federation and then in the human-equivalent of the Mestaron style.

“I hope you brought women with you.” It was rude to go about things quite that directly – either for the Mestaron or humans – but Reyne wanted them off-put and off-balance. They needed to shake expectations first.

“Here in the Federated Nations we don’t concern ourselves with the gender of-“

“The Mestaron will. The Mestaron will take it as a considerable insult if you don’t bring your ruling class with you. Also: did the Federated States outlaw sex drives while I was away?”

The definitely-male-bodied person – whose collar insignia said was probably in charge of the mission – sputtered and stammered for a moment. “The Federated States doesn’t speak about-“

“But they do, I’m sure, or you’d be having a population problem. Look. You know if you brought women. And if you didn’t, we’re not going any further in this briefing and I’m not letting you on-planet.”

There were some days Reyne really loved this job.

Reyne has also appeared Here and here.

This is written to [personal profile] anke‘s prompt to my genderfunky prompt call.

Want more? I’m sure I could have fun with this one. Commission more words via Paypal at the Giraffe Call rate of $1/100 words.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/822695.html. You can comment here or there.