Tag Archive | dream

Kissed the Boys and Made Them Cry….

We weren’t ready.

We’d been training for weeks – months – learning our companions, learning to use the reliquaries we carried with us, learning to use or own strengths and weaknesses.  We’d nearly fallen to a much less important enemy more than once.

We were in no way ready when the Devil walked into our training session.

He laughed at us, though it sounded friendly.  I could see both of his faces – the handsome dark-haired man with the charming smile, and the huge red-skinned demon with the horns so big they defied belief. I could hear both of his voices, the friendly businessman banter and the smoky growl. Continue reading

The Bound Demon, a snippet from a dream

Content warnings right up front: violence.  Very sideways implied rape. More violence.  Kidnapping. Broken bones. Burns. They are not treating this demon very nicely, okay?

Also, he may not be a demon. 

Snippet from a very nice dream (yeah, really!) where Wyste was writing a story based on a one-line post someone else had made.  This was just one flash of a scene but it wanted to be written so, here we go.


Continue reading

Saving the Cult (if not the World), Chapter One

A new Miniseries!

Saving the Cult (If not the World) "It's time." Manfield Lee knew he was good at sounding authoritative even when he didn't know what he was talking about - he'd turned a fortune into a megafortune doing just that, after all, not to mention running the Organization - but right now, he DID know what he was talking about. After all, it was just a date, wasn't it? And if the date turned out to be wrong, well, then he knew exactly what to blame it on, and that blame would fall on the scholars and the psychics, not on him. The other thing Manfield Lee knew how to do was to place the blame in very specific ways that were not him.

“You don’t belong here, you know.”

Lina tensed.  She wasn’t doing anything against the rules — she didn’t think.  But there was a boy in front of her in one of the strange robes that the leaders kept wearing, sort of a silvery white and soft, velvet maybe, and he was glaring at her. 

He had blond curly hair that reminded her of someone, although she couldn’t remember who at the moment, eyes that seemed too pale to be real, and a very unfriendly expression. 

“It’s — it’s food for the group,” she offered.  She pointed at the sign.   Continue reading

Blog? Post… amusing bit of a dream

Best part of a rather weird and long dream:

I was in a slow elevator and someone grabbed my ass. I turned around and shouted at this old white man not to do that.

He said, “do you know who I am?”

I looked at him and realized, and said “Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. Sir.” (there was a respectful pause to his office) “Don’t grab my fucking ass.”

He did not, for the entirety of the rest of the dream. Continue reading

A Dream Fic – The Russian’s Motives

Today’s Great NanoWrimo Prompt Call tale was prompted by my subconcious, i.e., it’s a dream written down.  Cheers!

Content warning for: slavery, suggested violence, some actual violence and abuse, a good deal of objectification of at least one character. 

swear I posted this the other day, but it’s still in my drafts. Soooo again, apologies if this is a duplicate.

The Great NanoWrimo Prompt Call

They were waiting, there wasn’t a better word for it.  They were quiet, idle, sitting around the lounge.  Except that he wasn’t sitting with the rest of them – neither he nor a couple of those who sympathized more with him, with what he was, had been, would be, than they did with the situation they found him in. Continue reading

Bits of a story born from a dream

The dream ended the first time at about the first scene below, after the viewpoint character was Undergoing A Complicated Challenge In the Nether Realms, but she was definitely the daughter of (someone important in hell) and (someone female important some other way).  The story has been tiddling around in my head since. 


“That’s a nice collar.”  Her fingers brushed the air near it.  “Would you like to wear mine instead?”

“Dey…” Chris’s words were a warning.  “You just saw her…”

“I saw her climb out of the Nether Realms like she owned the place.”   Dey was a little impressed.  He was also more than a little turned on. “And now she wants to put her collar on me?” Continue reading

Dream, attempted to storify

Some of my dreams stick with me. Sometimes they’re my weirdest ones. not sure about this one.

Here it is, though, a dream, attempted to make into fiction. I don’t know it if helps or hinders to imagine the first half of the story the way I dreamed it – as sentient Fisher-Price figures.

If she hadn’t known her three brothers the princes were pretty much useless, coming to the trading town really sent the message home.

At home, when the bandits attacked, her brothers could barely hold them off with their own magic, weak stuff. Here, the oldest of her brothers stepped onto the dock the way he always did – and the bandit ship fled immediately. Looking up, she understood why.

Here, the piggies and the sheepies helped. Here, the whole town worked to send off the raiders. There they were, the rotund row of townspeople standing on the balcony, on all the balconies, glaring their magic at the bandit ship.

She was talking with a rogue with a grubby demeanor and a sweet attitude, trying not to talk about how much of failures her little princedom must be, when the raiders came back in force. Not just one ship, but ship after ship after ship.

The rogue gave her a not-ungentle shove. “Go, try to get on that boat. Just get out of here.” He was pointing toward the river, towards a small craft holding a man and a woman. “Go!”

The raiders were almost there. She didn’t know why she listened, but she dove off the river-dock and swam for the boat.

The trip upriver was hard, and she worked every boat-length of it, as much as the people – Prince’s people, it turned out – who had taken her in. They spoke about the raiders, about her home. About the Prince. About the rogue who’d shoved her towards their boat.

It was only as they were pulling up on another dock that the woman said, in a tone the princess hadn’t heard before, “Haven’t you figured it out by now?”

The rogue was waiting for her, a bit the worse for wear, but still standing, still alive. He pulled off his cloak, shaking his hair, and revealed the Prince below. “I had to know,” he apologized. “It makes sense, right? I mean, if we’re to be wed-”

She was furious.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1309249.html. You can comment here or there. comment count unavailable

My dreams are awfully derivative…

So that was a strange dream-fragment. Not a story option as presented, because it stole heavily from other things, including my own settings, Star Wars, Wen Spencer, and a Sherri Tepper book, but interesting.

Just a vignette. A tall white-skinned woman with a physical resemblance to Ventress,but with hair (more on that later) was walking with another person, mentioning that “I think, when I head home, we’ll just raid some men from another colony who might have some spine…”

Background “known” by the viewer:
* As in the Wen Spencer’s A Brother’s Price, there was a very high woman-to-man ratio; the dream said 12:1, and the “men” were, as in my Tir Na Cali and to paraphrase a David Brin novel pallid sires who father a pallid race. Pampered, spoiled pets.

I think that, as in Sherri Tepper’s Sideshow, the white-skinned women with their pampered bois lived in one settlement on a planet that had several different subspecies of humanity, and that they were going to raid men from one of those… not certain, though.

The hair thing was neat: the women had black head hair which grew in essentially giraffe spots; some women in their clan-sister arrangements shaved it short, to show the white lines between the black fuzz, while others grew it long and braided each spot individually in long thick braids. I don’t know if the men had spots.