Tag Archive | giraffecall

Samurai have friends, a continuation of Doomsday for the Giraffe Call (@rix_Scaedu)

Sep25

This is written to Rix_Scaedu‘s commissioned continuation of the “Samurai” thread:
Gonna be a Samurai
Gonna Learn how to be a Samurai and
Being a Samurai Takes Work
If You Want to be a Samurai…
Gonna be a Samurai… Kitty?.

Fourth Year.
Austin was going to be cy’Lightning Blade, of course. That had been a foregone conclusion since he first met Professor Inazuma, and growing ears and a tail (siiiigh) just cemented what he’d already known.

“You should keep on studying farming with Professors Sweetflower and Lily, of course.” Principal Doomsday was taking care of Austin’s official move from cy’kidlings to cy’Lightning Blade, including the physical move from the kids’ dorm to the cy’Lightning house. “And don’t forget to make time for your friends. Remember – sa’Bulldozer, sa’Rainbow, sa’Lightning, sa’Vengeance and I were all in different cy’rees when we were in school, and we are still crew after all this time.”

His friends? Austin found himself blinking owlishly at the principal. “Sweetbriar’s probably going to go cy’Lightning Blade, too.”

The principal said nothing. Austin thought hard and fast. “Sianna. Sianna’s not – Sianna’s not a fighter, she’s a dancer.” Why hadn’t he ever been listening? “Sianna’s not going to go cy’Lightning Blade, is she?” She would probably go… cy’Lily? Or cy’Sweetflower. Who… were his secondary instructors for farming.

“Austin, were you listening?” Principal Doomsday leaned against the wall and huffed at him. “You’re not changing Mentors to be with Sianna. For one, then you wouldn’t be in a cy’ree with Sweetbriar. For another, you wouldn’t be happy as cy’Lily, in my opinion. And for a third, it’s a small school. You’ll still have plenty of time together.”

“But not sitting up all night talking…” Austin slapped a hand over his mouth. “I mean…” The words came out, unsurprisingly, muffled.

Principal Doomsday laughed. “You’re not the only one, I assure you. I told you, I was a student once myself. All of the staff were.”

“Not here though, right?” A change of subject, yay. Austin remembered to move his hands away from his mouth.

“No, long ago and not all that far away, in a place called Addergoole. I think your mother and your older siblings went there…?”

Not the nicest change of subject. “Um. Yeah. Yeah, that’s what Mom said. Somewhere underground? She never really wanted to talk about it.”

“Most Addergoole grads don’t. But we were all kids once. We remember.” The principal patted Austin’s shoulder. “You’ll still have time for your friends, and I’m sure Professor Leo – Professor Inazuma – isn’t going to say no to the occasional sleepover. Sianna’s a nice girl.”

“So’s Sweetbriar.” The words came out fast. Sweetbriar wasn’t nice, not really. She was sharp and prickly and sometimes temperamental, already deadly and altogether hard to read when she wanted to be.

And… and Principal Doomsday was smiling at him, no, grinning, why had he never noticed that minks had sharp teeth, help…

“Sweetbriar is an interesting girl. She’s a good friend, from what I can tell, and someone good to have your back in a fight. Of course, I’m biased.”

“Biased? Ma’am?” She was going cy’Lightning Blade, right, not cy’Doomsday? He didn’t want to lose both of his friends.

“She’s my granddaughter. One of several, of course – but she’s still my granddaughter.” The principal smiled again, and this time it seemed far less dangerous. “You have good taste in friends, Austin. You’re going to be fine.”

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This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/816093.html. You can comment here or there.

Under the Sea, a story for the Giraffe Call

Sep17

To [personal profile] alexseanchai‘s prompt

When the war came, she went, not to ground, as so many of her friends and cousins did, but to water, to the sea.

The bombs were falling all around, but she slipped on her seal skin and slid under the water, down where the Leviathan still remembered her, down where her other family, her seal family, still lived. She found the little place she had built, so long ago, where those like her – and those like dolphins and true seals, merfolk and otters – could breathe safe air, deep under the ocean and yet dry and homey. The humans were clever, but none smart enough to find this place.

It was not the first time she had gone to see, and it would likely not be her last. She was, if not eternal, near unto it, and she did not like war at all.

There she stayed, with otters and selkies, seals and merfolk, under the water, while above the rockets fell and the cities burned. They were clever folk, humans, clever at destruction, clever at building it all up to destroy it again. But she was more clever, and she had her refuge from all their brilliant ideas.

The years past, under the sea. Otters and seals, dolphins and merfolk kept her company. The true animals grew old, and died, no matter the magic she used, but the merfolk and the selkies, the naiads and the kelp-dryads, they stayed the same, as she did. Above the sea, the war raged on, and stopped, raged again, and stopped. The humans were clever, and eventually they found peace. Still she waited.

It was safe, under the sea, never too cold and never too warm. It was peaceful under the sea, no war and no armistice, no fighting and no treaties. But the humans were clever and the merfolk and selkies were eternal – but they were not, as things went, so clever.

The humans were clever. And no matter how long she was gone, there was always someone waiting, when she slipped onto the beach. There was always someone who remembered how to steal her skin.

As she pretended to fight against the farmer who had “captured” her, the selkie found herself smiling. It was safe, under the sea. But on the ground things were interesting.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/811835.html. You can comment here or there.

Family Secrets and Cat Secrets, continuation of the Aunt Family for the Giraffe Call

Sep12

This is wispfox‘s commissioned continuation of Cats & Grannies. and Cat’s in the Attic.

Radar appeared to approve of the center box of the nine – although, perhaps out of consideration to Aunt Bea, he wasn’t talking. Beryl, armed with the gloves the cat had suggested and a scarf tied over her nose and mouth, moved everything with the care usually taken by museum archivists.

(She wondered, very briefly, what a historian or archaeologist would make of the family archives, such as they were. Had anyone in the family ever studied archeology?)

“Aunt Bea…” Her voice was muffled by the scarf, but Aunt Bea’s hearing was still sharp. “Do we have any historians in the family?”

“Oh, the family doesn’t tend to go that way.”

“Aah.” Beryl noted the tone, and wondered what Aunt or pushy Granny had inculcated that idea into the family. “I think it might be fun to do a study of all this, that’s all.”

“Well, but who could you show it to?”

“Aunt-” She hefted the box out of its spot and set it, carefully, on a clear patch of attic floor “-Evangeline. Or maybe one of the cadet branches – hey, how come they’re the cad… never mind. Thanks for letting me take this, Aunt Bea.” That was Dangerous Territory. People Beryl’s age weren’t supposed to worry about Dangerous Territory.

“Don’t worry too much about the politics, honey. It’ll sort itself out, it always does. And be careful with what’s in those boxes – I mean, tell Eva to be careful.” Was that a wink, or just a trick of the light?

~

Beryl had earned the privilege of a locked door with her fourteenth birthday, and was very grateful for it as she and Radar sat down with the box. Not that she thought her mother would exactly object, but her mother would talk to her sisters, and her cousins, and they’d talk to their mothers, and their aunts, and so on, and soon Beryl would find herself buried in Grannies again.

She turned up the music nobody else in the house liked – just loud enough to be audible if one stopped to listen, not loud enough to get her yelled at by anyone else – triple-checked the lock, and made sure The Necklace was wrapped in silk and locked in a stone box. “All right, Radar.” She popped the lid and stared inside. “What am I looking for?”

“It’s going to be a journal.” Radar jumped into the box, growing smaller as he did in a show of power he almost never exhibited. The kitten-size fit much better among the paperwork. “If I recall, it was bound in leather – brown and green – and wrapped in ribbon.”

“There’s so much stuff here.” She lifted out a folder labelled Family Photographs, 1910. The handwriting was a long, spidery script she’d seen more than a few times before. “And what’s dangerous about photos?”

“In your family? Everything.” The cat pushed aside a yellowed book of sheet music; Beryl had never heard of the composer, but she could smell the magic still coming off of it like dust. “Here it is. Careful, girl, it’s old.”

Old didn’t begin to cover it. Beryl stared at the cover of the book, with its flaking gold-embossed name. “Is that…”

It had to be. The family, for reasons of clarity, did not repeat names. But she had to ask again, anyway. “Is that…”

“The secrets have been lost for a long time indeed, child. Take it.” Radar pushed the book towards her. “You’re going to need it.”

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/810539.html. You can comment here or there.

Goatback or Not

Sep12

After With the Goats

Liegya hadn’t meant to be a census-taker.

She’d meant to be a show-rider, a fancy-goat-dancer, a parade-trick-acrobat.

And she was good at it, good with the goats, good with the acrobats, good with the showmanship.

She still was. But parental push had been harder than she’d expected, she’d gotten very good marks in counting and accounting in school, and the position in the census bureau had come with a very nice salary and a house she only saw once a year.

And it came with her pick of goats, and being with the goats 9/10 of the time, even if she’d rather be counting other people’s goats than the people themselves.

When the villagers told her about “oh, Lazhman, probably out with the goats…” She had to go look. At the goats, of course.

And maybe at another soul who’d rather be with the four-legged than two.

Reiassan has a landing page here (and on LJ).

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This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/809674.html. You can comment here or there.

Flying Squirrel: Frying Pan, Fire?

Sep11

A continuation of Flying-Squirrel’s Freedom (or Fetters)

“Freck, freck, freck!” Farley was still fighting against the fetters when the Fondly sisters came for him.

The foremost one – Fanny, probably – was dangling a set of keys from her finger. Her red-furred ear sported a new notch, but she and Fiona were otherwise unscathed. “Finally.” Fanny’s smile had way too many teeth. “Do you know how long we’ve been looking for you?”

“And we only had to kill half a pirate ship to get you.” Fiona looked around ostentatiously. “I wonder where we can get some more crew…”

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/808481.html. You can comment here or there.

Absolute last call for donations for this Giraffe Call

Sep11

We are $4 from the “character art” threshold, and I would really like to get an art of our samurai catboy.

THERE!


Just a reminder: $4 now buys you 400 words, twice what it would with my normal commission rates. Got something you’re just dying to see a little more of? Now’s your chance!

These rates will be open until I wake up tomorrow morning, if you want to push us towards the $50 “I will write an extra fic for everyone” level!

Closed! Next Giraffe Call will be around about the 11th of October!

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/808427.html. You can comment here or there.

Cat’s In the… Attic, a continuation of the Aunt Family for the Giraffe Call (@anke)

Sep10

This is [personal profile] anke‘s commissioned continuation of Cats & Grannies.

“Oh, hello, dear. And you brought a… a cat. Oh, you brought That Cat.” Aunt Beatrix was attempting to sound friendly. Mostly she sounded that she was terrified and stressed.

Beryl smiled as nicely as she could manage. She’d wanted to bring Chalce or Stone along, or, better yet, Mom, but Chalce had been busy, Radar was getting weird about Stone, and Mom sometimes forgot she wasn’t a Grandmother yet, so she might not endorse Beryl learning verboten information.

“I’m sorry, Aunt Beatrix. But Radar gets up to trouble if I leave him alone, and I heard that you might have some family records in your attic.”

“Aah, Evangaline finally noticed things were missing, did the girl? Come in, I suppose, as long as your cat there doesn’t get up to any trouble.”

“You hear that, Radar?” Beryl stared at the cat for a moment. “No trouble. You be nice to Aunt Beatrix.”

“Oh, no, not you, too, sweetie.” Beatrix tch’d. “Well, come in. The papers are up in the attic, like you said. They’re all boxed up. Carron and Katherine boxed everything up, before… Before.”

Before before? Beryl would have to ask Radar or Mom when she was alone. “Thank you, Aunt Beatrix. How have the cats… been?”

“Well, with That One out of the way, they’ve been… better. They’re still Family cats, and why I ended up with them this time around, I really don’t know. But they like the park you built them.”

“The park? Ah, the cat run.” That had been quite a bit of work, half of it Beryl and half of it Stone. “I’m glad they like it.”

“It does keep them quiet. Well, come on, you and That Cat. The attic is this way. Although I’ve managed to keep the cats out of there, up ‘till now.”

“Ha.”

The noise was stifled, a little snort of dry amusement, but Beatrix still heard it. She stared at Radar for a moment, then shook her head as if clearing it. “I never should have – well, that’s for another time. Come on, girl. ‘twere well it were done quickly.”

“Coming.” Aunt Bea was… different. Clearer-headed, and yet somehow she sounded even more insane. Well, she was family, after all.

Aunt Bea’s house was almost as old as Aunt Evangaline’s. The family liked to hold on to property. The family liked to hold on to everything, to be fair. The stairs were tight and narrow, old wooden stairs covered with at least three archival layers of carpeting. (Beryl and Chalce had vacuumed and washed those carpets, back before Thanksgiving. The stained floral pattern of the bottom layer still haunted her.) But Aunt Bea hopped up them as quickly as Beryl did. Age – age, in the family, seemed like it had more to do with getting stronger than with getting frail.

“I moved these boxes up here when Asta – when she had her little spell, although I figure you probably don’t remember that. It just seemed like some things ought to stay safe. And then That Cat moved in, and I forgot right about the papers, you know? Everything got a little fuzzy, if you’ll pardon me saying so.”

A little fuzzy would explain a lot. Beryl shot Radar a glare; he endeavored to look completely innocent, going so far as to start grooming himself.

“I, ah, I can understand that. Is that,” Beryl gambled a bit, “the spot in the guest room at Aunt Eva’s That We Don’t Talk About Period?” The spot was black with char, and the rug did not like to stay over it.

Aunt Beatrix snorted out a laugh. “That’s not your Aunt Eva. Is that your mother, then, Hadelai?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“You were, I think, just a small baby, although that might have been your sister, one of your sisters. We never did figure out what happened, but we think it has something to do with Asta being a weak vessel.”

Beryl had already learned the trick with the grannies: keep listening & you learn a lot more than if you ask questions. She made a noise that she’d learned sounded like she agreed – she’d picked it up from Aunt Rosaria – while making a mental note to ask Radar about weak vessels when they were alone.

“And well, she decided that the family had, I suppose, too much power, as if such a thing was possible, and she started… trying to eliminate it. But you know as well as I do, child, that power does not like to be threatened.”

The same could be said for the family. “No, it doesn’t.”

“Well, it was quite a mess, and I’m rather surprised the backlash didn’t kill Asta.”

“That… that sounds like quite a mess.” And quite a backlash, if it had left a spot so tainted that no rug would cover it.

“Well, Asta was always a bit daft. I told Rosaria and Margaret, I did, that – well, here are the boxes.” Aunt Beatrix looked a bit guilty as she gave Beryl a little push. “And don’t worry your head about that stuff about Asta. She’s gone now, and can’t do any harm to anyone, not even herself.”

“Thank you, Aunt Beatrix.” Aunt Bea might be a little silly, but she was still a Grannie, and there was no going around her once she’d decided Beryl didn’t need to know something. “Are they safe to move, or should I look over them here and-” at the last minute Beryl remembered that she was supposed to be getting these boxes for Aunt Eva – “take notes for Aunt Evangaline?”

“Oh, they should be inert by now. And if not, I trust that you’re a clever girl. Just be careful of dust. They’ve been sitting here quite a while, and they were sitting there even longer.”

“Thanks, Aunt Bea.” Beryl studied the pile of boxes – three deep, three tall, three wide. The one in the center would probably be the proper one, if family tradition held. “I think I’ll move them a bit at a time, if you don’t mind the intrusion?”

“Oh, I don’t mind at all, dear, don’t mind at all. But I wouldn’t mind some of Hadelai’s lemon bars, either.”

Beryl smiled. “Thanks again.” Looked like she was reading old papers and making lemon bars this weekend. Having a normal dating life had never really been in her cards, she supposed. “I’ll get started right away.”

Next: Family Secrets & Cat Secrets

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/807010.html. You can comment here or there.

Giraffe Call Landing Page

Sep9

What is a Giraffe Call?
Once a month, on the second Saturday after the first Tuesday of the month, Updated: once in a while, about 1-2 times/year, I open up a post calling for prompts on a monthly theme.

Why is it a “Giraffe Call?”
I was saving up for some pretty awesome giraffe-print carpet for the bedroom of Our New House. 🙂 Thus Giraffe. (I have a lot more renovations to go after the carpet! Currently up is my attic.)

What do you do on a Giraffe Call?
I will write at least one microfic (around 150-400 words) for everyone who prompts.

I not only accept but welcome and encourage prompts without donation; the more prompts, the better! It makes a fuller, more exciting Call!

But Wait, There’s More
Donation incentives vary by month, but the short version is: as the Call reaches total-dollars-donated levels, the entire call gets more things – a longer short story, writing to more prompts by everyone, or to all the prompts, a podcast of a story, even, if I reach my top goal for the call, an e-book.

In addition, there are perks for new donors, new commenters/prompters, and linking back to the call. Check each individual call for their perks.

What can I prompt?
Anything at all, as long as it’s somehow related to the theme.  However, I do not write fanfiction for prompt calls.

If you want to prompt something related to one of my extant settings, that’s cool; if you want to prompt something completely new, that’s also cool. Photo prompts, art prompts, are awesome; I’ll take auditory prompts too, though I’ve never tried writing to those.

If I find I really can’t work with your prompt (I have trouble with zombies, for instance), I’ll ask you to prompt again.

Past Calls
August 2014 (LJ) Animalia
May/June 2014 (LJ) Micro Prompts
January 2014 (LJ) OrigFic Bingo
February 2014 (LJ) Evildoers & Bad Guys
August 2013 (LJ) Identity
June 2013 (LJ) Finish It!
April 2013 (LJ) A-Z
March 2013 (LJ) Swords and Sorcery!
February 2013 (LJ) – Shades and Hues of Love (Summary)
January Mini 3 (LJ) – 7 Deadlies (Summary)
January Mini 2 (LJ) – Transitions (Summary)
January Mini 1 (LJ) – The Weather (Summary)
December 2012 (LJ) – Siblings (Summary)
October 2012 (LJ) – The Norm (Summary)
August 2012 (LJ) – (Fuzzy) Adventures and Quests
July Mini (LJ) – Addergoole Summer Camp (Summary)
June Mini (LJ) – Reiassan (Summary)
May 2012 (LJ) – Origins and Creations (Summary)
April 2012 (LJ) – Celebrations and Special Events (Summary)
(LJ) – xx (Summary)
March 2012 (LJ) – Spring Cleaning (Summary)
January Mini (LJ) – Aunt Family (Summary)
February 2012 LJ – Wine and/or Roses (Summary)
January 2012 (LJ) – In the City ( Summary)
December (DW) – Gifts, Gifts, and the Gifted. (Summary)
November (LJ) – “Family”
October (LJ) – “Spooks, Creeps, Ghosts, and Ghouls”
September (LJ) – “Lost, Abandoned, & Left Behind”
August (LJ) – “Abduction & Rescue”
August Early (LJ) – “Gender, sexuality, & how they go funky”
July (LJ) – no topic
()

Pre-Giraffe Calls:
January 11 – Steampunk
Dec. 2010 – The Green
November 2010 – Ways and/or Means
Sept. 6-19, 2010 – Beginning with B
August 2-8 2010 – Beginning with A
August 9-15 – Exotic, Erotic, or Exogenous
July 2010 – The Great Outdoors
June 2010 – Roll your Own

Call for Ideas
Prompt Poll (as opposed to a late one)

2011 – Giraffe Carpet Funds!

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/183868.html. You can comment here or there.

A Heritage Earned

Sep8

This is to [personal profile] librarygeek‘s prompt and comes after The Heritage that Wasn’t

“Kitsune are believed to possess superior intelligence, long life, and magical powers.”

The dictionaries were not helpful. The online databases were not much more useful. The only place – other than the letters, which were clearly not enough help – where Jen could find any information at all was an old, old, pre-space database which someone had reconstructed as a school project.

Kitsune were benevolent, or mischievous, or even malicious. They were spirits, or they weren’t, they shifted form, or they simply appeared to sometimes be human. The information was all over there.

But that one line: “…believed to possess superior intelligence, long life, and magical powers.” That, Jen grabbed on to. She could not lengthen her life, not on her own. But she could learn magic.

Of course, “magic” did not exist. Of course, “superior intelligence” was a matter of genetics and pre-birth implants and careful training. Of course, kitsune were a myth.

But Jen had been living off-planet just long enough to have learned that Central Bureaucracy had its lies that it needed to tell, and that colonists, settlers, the Modified, and the true aliens all had their own truths, truths which had more to do with what Jen needed than the Central Bureaucracy Registered Facts ever would.

Superior intelligence came from a series of illicit implants, a longer series of sleep-learning in an Earth-banned procedure used everywhere, usually to bone up on a specific subject, and an ever longer series of sessions with a Modified shaman.

The same shaman taught Jen the preliminaries of magic, and set her on the path to a second teacher, and then to an alien, native of the planet on which she & her father were now residing, who taught Jen things Central Bureaucracy had never even thought to forbid.

Kitsune were myth, but on her twenty-third birthday, Jen found herself staring in the mirror at a fox-fairy.


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This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/805169.html. You can comment here or there.

Gonna Be a Samurai… Kitty? A continuation of Doomsday for the Giraffe Call (@rix_Scaedu)

Sep6

This is written to Rix_Scaedu‘s commissioned continuation of the “Samurai” thread:
Gonna be a Samurai
Gonna Learn how to be a Samurai and
Being a Samurai Takes Work
If You Want to be a Samurai….

Fourth Year

“Austin, you don’t have to fake a headache. Seriously. If you don’t want to come to the recital, just say so.”

“No! …No.” Austin had burrowed as far under the blankets as he could go, but he had to peek out so that Sianna could see he was sincere. The light seemed to stab at his eyes, but Sianna had to understand. “No, I promise-”

“You’re not supposed to promise.”

“Not unless you really, really mean it. I promise I really do have a headache. I – I wanted to see you dance.”

“You see me dance all the time Austin what’s going on with your head?”

“Not like – what? My head hurts. I told you that.” He was seeing spots, which had to be why he didn’t dodge Sianna grabbing him. “Ow, ow, my ears… wait.” He blinked up at his friend. “What?”

“You’re Changing, it’s not fair, it’s awesome, I mean, but it’s not fair. Come on, what did Miss Ascha say about Changes?” She finally released her grip on – on his ears? It still didn’t feel right, but those things at the top of his head had to be his ears. At least that explained why everything got louder when Sianna let go. “Come on. You’ve got to go see Nurse ’Adne.”

“What? No, it’s just a headache.” Samurai didn’t need to worry about a little pain, did they? What would Professor Inazuma say? “I’ll be fine.”

“Austin!” Dancers had strong arms; Sianna grabbed his arm and yanked. “Come on. You’re going to see Nurse Meliadne. Now.”

Having a tail was totally going to get in the way of being a samurai. Austin stared miserably at Nurse Meliadne’s three-way mirror. “I have a tail.”

“You have a tail, yes. It looks as if it’s some sort of cat, maybe a domestic cat, a house cat.”

“A cat?” Austin spun around again. “Not even a tiger or a lion or something cool, I’m turning into a house cat?”

“Not ‘turning into,’ not really. You’re going to get some physical characteristics of a cat – the tail, the ears, as you can see, maybe claws. And you’ll get some – I’ve heard them called emotional characteristics. Some people call it ‘the animal.’ For some, it will be something like wanting to take a lot of naps, or chasing small objects – or prey, so I’d watch yourself around mouse-like Changes. Or an urge to mark your territory – be careful with that, or Miss Ascha will be very irritated with you.” The nurse smiled.

“Oh, good.” Austin wrinkled his nose. “So I might act like an idiot, and I’m all messed up for being a samurai.”

“Why do you say that?” Nurse Meliadne settled into her chair and put her chin in her hands. “After all, cats are known for their balance.”

“Who’s going to take me seriously looking like this?”

“Meliadne, I heard Austin was Changing… Ah, there you are!”

Oh, no, it was Professor Inazuma. Austin hid his face in his hands, but couldn’t help peeking out to see the professor’s expression.

He was… smiling. Almost grinning, really.

“A cat change? Great! Now we get to figure out your balance with that tail.”

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/804011.html. You can comment here or there.