Archive | December 17, 2011

Giraffe Call Evening Summary

Dec17

Woo! I got quite a few prompts already for this giraffe call, and $75 in tips! We’re just $20 from the writing-to-ALL-the-prompts incentive level!


I’ve already gotten new prompters AND new donors, so there will be a setting piece, as well.

The Linkback polls were tied at 1 each in 6 answers, so I went with the two-in-the-same-setting. That can be found here! Remember to leave a comment if you’ve linked back.

Stories so far run the gamut from strange to silly to dark, and I think tomorrow’s will continue much the same. I’ll be playing carpenter during the day, but expect another round tomorrow after dark, EST.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/200422.html. You can comment here or there.

King(Maker) Cake

Dec17

For [personal profile] ysabetwordsmith‘s prompt.

The Aunt Family has a landing page (and here on LJ).

“Have you see the tschotske of Aunt Zenobia’s? I left it by the sink.”

Grandma Ardella’s kitchen was, as it always was on Christmas morning, bursting to the seams with cousins, aunts and Aunt, daughters and granddaughters and the rare uncomfortable daughter-in-law, everyone with a purpose while all but the very brave of the men huddled in the living room, pretending to discuss sports. In the kitchen, Ardella herself presided, or tried to, although her sisters, as always, made that difficult, and her granddaughters were old enough to be both helping and far too controlling.

“That funny gold thing with the rabbit?” Fallon looked guilty. “That was a Zenobia thing? I thought it was part of the cake treats.”

“Oh, bloody hell.” Ardella frowned. “Well, pass me the mix and I’ll strain it out. It’s not the sort of thing you want getting in the batter for too long. It might leak.”

“Leak?” squeaked a daughter-in-law, what-was-her-name. Jane, maybe. “Was it a poison ring?”

“Nothing like that,” Aunt Rosaria laughed, bustling the girl out of the kitchen. “Help me find the jarred cranberries, Jenny, that’s a good girl.”

“Jaenelle,” she corrected weakly, but she’d be Jenny by the time the night was over.

“How bad of a leak?” Fallon asked cautiously, once Jane-Jenny-whatever was out of the room. “Are we talking the sort of thing like happened the year we let Aunt Asta make the cake?”

“Well, that certainly was an interesting year,” Ardella admitted. “And it could be. I hadn’t figured out what it did yet, and Evangaline is…” Is far too young, she didn’t say, although it was a close thing. “…has her hands full, with inheriting the House and everything.”

“It’s just,” Fallon continued unhappily, “I already baked the muffins, and they’re out on the tray.”

“The tray in the living room?” Ardella frowned. Once the menfolk got the cakes…

“Ow!” Her grandson’s shout echoed through the house. “Damnit,” and the boy knew better, even Hadelai didn’t raise her children that badly, “my… ooooh.”

Ardella put her face in her hands. This was going to be a long Christmas.

Next: http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1218989.html

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/199978.html. You can comment here or there. comment count unavailable

You’d better watch out, you’d better not… a story of Addergoole for the Giraffe Call @Lilfluff

Dec17

For [personal profile] lilfluff‘ prompt. This is set in the Addergoole ‘verse, whose landing page is here on DW & here on LJ.

He hadn’t been easy to find.

Constance had a feeling Ahava wanted it that way. If she had been him (which, clearly, she was not), if there were three people she would want not finding her after school, it would be herself, Quintin, and Luhanna, and not just because they were a sharp and effective crew.

But she had made him a promise – three promises, because Constance always did things in threes – and she was going to keep it, despite the world ending, despite what he had done to her (and to their daughter, and to the girl that came after her, and to her friends), despite the complete waste of space he could be. Despite that, or because of it, or superseding it.

Between the three of them, three years out of school, they had resources that, she thought, Ahava probably hadn’t planned on. Not that Ahava really planned on much – not yet. It might be that he would, when they were done with him. They called on every friend and every owed favor, every family member they could find, sent out feelers to every network they knew, bribed those they could and blackmailed those they couldn’t bribe. It took another three years, but Constance had nearly expected that.

They found in him the ruins of Vegas, in Aphrodite’s temple, stoned to the gills, giggling, a blond girl face-down in his crotch and a redheaded slave-boy oiling his shoulders. His Mask was down, his blue skin and green hair showing, his eyes luminescent. He wore nothing except a piece of beefcake armour, probably something he’d made himself.

“The hunters are coming,” Constance greeted him.

“They won’t get in here,” he yawned, not yet realizing who she was, who they were. “They never do. The guards stop them.”

“And when the guards are gone?” Quintin asked. “Then what will you do?”

“Find more guards? I don’t know, this is Aphrodite’s temple. Let her deal with it.”

“Aphrodite has been dead for three years, Ahava,” Luhanna murmured. “Her temple is in ruins, all but this little nook. Your slaves keep it for you, but your slaves are human. Eventually, they’ll get bored, or the food will run out.”

It was, Constance noted, Luhanna’s voice that got his attention. Somewhere in the back of her mind, that bothered her. She put that aside for later, as her former Keeper looked up at them.

“Connie? Lu? Quint? What are you guys doing here?” She was pleased to note that fear, at least, got through his haze.

“We came to bring you a present.” She spoke now, because this was her quest.

“A present?” He pushed the slaves away and stared at her, a little needle of comprehension sinking into him. “Con… Con, that bullshit promise you made?”

“That bullshit promise I made,” she agreed. “You have twenty-five minutes to pack up anything you can carry, and anyone who wants to come with you. You’re leaving with us.”

“Where?” He didn’t, she note, argue that he was coming. He’d never been stupid, at least.

She smiled grimly. “Out into the real world.” Or what was left of it.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/199839.html. You can comment here or there.

Peace, Quiet, and the Null, a story of (Addergoole??) for the Giraffe Call @inventrix

Dec17

For [personal profile] inventrix‘ prompt. This might be Addergoole, whose landing page is here on DW & here on LJ.

The class of 2014 was having problems. Cadfan woke in the morning to find his bed shredded, and it seemed every time he gestured, he shot knives from his hands, cutting up everything around him.

Aesara’s gift of being able to see everything that might happen, everything that could have happened, meant that even walking down the hall was nearly impossible, as she saw every path everyone might take. She had locked herself in her room because there, at least, the paths seemed to mostly lead to her dying quietly.

Chang didn’t mind things that much at first, until it turned out that having no friction really made, well, everything harder. Walking down the hall was nearly as impossible for him as it was for Aesara, and holding things required special concentration.

Merial might have been said to have it the worst, but nobody got a chance to ask her. Gills are not a fun power to have on dry land.

And in the middle of this walked Kyme, smoothly but not without friction, sharply but only of temper, with no more ability to see than any human, no more ability to breathe water than any mammal, no more beauty than any pretty girl, no more intelligence than any good student, no more strength than any athlete. In short, in walked Kyme, who was blessedly normal, who was blessedly quiet, and with her walked a small null zone, where, for a few moments, everyone else could have peace as well.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/199530.html. You can comment here or there.

Charming, a short story of The Aunt Family, for the Giraffe Call

Dec17

For [personal profile] moonwolf‘s prompt.

The Aunt Family has a landing page (and here on LJ).

“Thanks, Eva. I’ll talk to her.”

“You should, Hadelai,” Aunt Evangaline answered, more gently than she normally did. “Of course, you know she’s listening now.

“No, she’s a good girl, she’d never….”

“You did when you were her age. So did I.”

“Hrmph.”

Beryl’s mother had been acting strangely since her Aunt Asta died and Aunt Evangaline took over the Aunt House and all the associated… things, and it seemed Aunt Eva had noticed, too. Beryl knew why, of course – she had the markers, assuming Chalcie or Amy got around to having children (or, she supposed, Stone) – but she wasn’t the only one who did. Mom – Hadelai, Hadie – and Eva had another sister and another brother. There were plenty of cousins to go around.

Still, Mom was all of a sudden very interested in any boy Beryl happened to talk to or about, and very curious about her dating prospects, very worried when she acted at all “strange” or, god forbid, “fey.” It was beginning to get a little annoying, so Beryl had had a quiet word with Aunt Eva, who had had a few less quiet but more subtle words with Mom, and now, it seemed, Mom was going to have a few words with her. She made sure she wasn’t anywhere near the phone – damnit, Aunt Eva – and very engrossed in her homework – Chemistry homework, because Mom, for some reason, didn’t think Chem was fey – and waited for Mom to come have that word.

When she did – thirty minutes later, long enough that Beryl was beginning to wonder if she’d gotten cold feet – it wasn’t the conversation she was expecting. Instead, Mom came with a small charm bracelet in hand.

“My grandmother, Diandre, gave this to me,” she said, with no preamble, as she sat down next to Beryl on the bed. “And I’ve kept it. I thought I would pass it on to a granddaughter – Grandma Diandre got it from her grandmother, after all, and I’m not sure how many generations it’s been in the family before that, but I know it’s quite a few – but I think I should give it to you. If you want to… if you want to give it to a daughter, or a niece, in your turn, that’s your choice.”

She turned the bracelet over in her hands, clearly unwilling to hand it over quite yet. “This is the thing. This isn’t a monkey’s paw, it’s not a magic lantern. But it has power, Beryl, and I worry about that power. I worry about it in your hands, but I have to admit,” she sighed, “I worry about it, right now, more in mine.”

“This one, this is the one I’m worried about.” She showed Beryl the garnet heart, crowned with gold. “This one can bring love or ruin it. And Beryl, I very much want you to find love.”

As if it pained her, she passed the bracelet over. “Please, honey, please be careful.”

Cradling the small relic, Beryl nodded and gulped. Love. Bring love or ruin it. “I will, Mom. I promise.”

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/199338.html. You can comment here or there.

Target

Dec17

From kc_obrien‘s prompt.

Facets of Dusk is still lacking a landing page; Tir na Cali’s page is here and here on LJ

“Her?”

The Agent set down her scope and shook her head. “She doesn’t seem like all that much, Joe. She’s pretty enough, but nothing stunning.”

“Look again,” her partner insisted. “Look at her eyes.”

The Agent took another look, and set down her scope far more carefully. “Shit,” she shook her head. “What in the Consort’s pants are we going to do with that?”

“Run?” her partner suggested. “Running sounds good.”

~

“What do you mean?” Cole was impatient with, well, with everything, but with things that were esoteric, magical, he was even less tolerant than Simon. He shook his head at Josie. “You’re not making any sense.”

“Actually, she is,” Alexa corrected gently. “The Doors don’t always lead to the same place every time, that we know. It seems to be part volition, part unknown variables – and I think one of those unknown variables could very easily be a pulling from the other side.”

“A need,” Josie agreed, “or something very intense.”

~

Blaise stared at the small fire in her back yard, the roasting remains of the pigeon crackling as bits of fat fell into the flames. If she burnt it enough, maybe nobody would ever find out how it had died. If she roasted this area enough, maybe noobdy would ever know what she had done.

“Blaise!” Her mother, she thought dispassionately, sounded terrified. Sometimes she thought the daft bitch knew more than she let on. “Blaise, honey, step away from the fire, please. You know how much I worry about flame.”

She closed her eyes, willing the inferno back inside of her. “Yeah, mom,” she murmured, trying to sound innocent. Naive. “Yeah, Mom, I know.”

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/198972.html. You can comment here or there.

December Giraffe Call: Gifts, _Gifts_ and the Gifted

Dec17

The call for prompts is now CLOSED!

The Summary of stories is here on DW and here on LJ.

I am now taking prompts on the theme of Gifts, gifts, and the gifted

I will write (over the next week) at least one microfic (150-300 words) to each prompter. If you donate, I will write to all of your prompts,

If you have donated, I will write to every prompt you left.

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

For every linkback I receive, I will post another 50 words on a story (See the poll for setting here on DW and here on LJ

If I get two new commenters or one new donator, I will write a setting piece (setting chosen by poll).

And, of course, donations are always well-received:




If I reach $35 in donations, I will post an additional 1000-2000-word fic on the subject of the audience’s choice. reached!

If I reach $65, I will write at least 2 microfics for everyone, whether or not they donated.reached!

If I reach $95, I will write to every prompt I get in the next 24 hours (limit 4 per person) – or third prompt for each original prompter. At this point, please allow up to 5 weeks for the writing to be completed.

If I reach $120, I will record a podcast of an audience-choice story and post it for everyone to read. Also, everyone who tipped will get double wordcount.

If I reach $150, I will release an e-book of all of the fiction written to this call and the last one. At this point, please allow up to 6 weeks for the writing to be completed.

I’m still saving up for the giraffe carpet, which will be installed THIS COMING WEDNESDAY (knock on wood!)

For more information on Giraffe Calls, see the landing page.

Donate below, OR! my Dreamwidth account could use renewing.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/198290.html. You can comment here or there.