Tag Archive | prompter: dahob

Wait, What?

Written to DaHob’s prompt to my new “WTF?” Prompt Call.  Fae Apoc, early apocalypse.

Things had been going weird for weeks, but Tlalli had been doing a pretty good job of pretending they weren’t.

She went to classes every day, went to work after that, and screened stupid application after stupid application for a roommate, looking for someone who wouldn’t be torture to live with and would actually pay the rent something like on time.

There was some weird shit on the tv, weirder shit on youtube, and twitter was blowing up with the stuff people had seen – and the people that had died or vanished.   One person she followed posted a list every morning. Just an image, black names on white text. It was getting pretty long. Continue reading

Normal American

For DaHob, a ficlet of Tír na Cali.  

🔒

“So… you’re pretty normal?”

As far as come-on lines went, Barty had definitely heard worse.  He’d heard better a couple times, sure, but while he was okay-looking, he wasn’t usually the hottest guy in the bar and definitely wasn’t the richest in any room.

Maybe that’s why he hadn’t been careful.  Maybe it had been the way she clicked her hair over a bare shoulder.  Maybe it had been the way she smiled like he was very, very important to her.

Whatever it had been, it had gotten him in her bed, and that had been, well.  Barty wasn’t the sort to say things like “mind-blowing,” but… his mind was pretty blown.

And now, now he was sitting on bleachers with fifty other Americans, wearing collars and sweats and all of them feeling a little uncomfortable.  

“The purpose of this mission is to acquaint Californian agents with American customs.  To that end, every one of you is going to have a house, a job, and several assignments.  You are going to have two weeks to settle in, and then you will be shadowed by Californian agents.  Do you understand?”

The woman speaking was tall, a valkyrie, and she looked deadly.  Standing to one side of her was the girl Barty had gone home with.

Looking at her, he had to admit he’d probably go home with her again.

Someone else’s hand rose.  Someone shouted out a question.

“Why should we help you?”

“Well.  Because the options are to take this service, which has a certain amount of leeway, or, considering the qualities for which you were acquired—”

So… you’re pretty normal?

“–will likely end up being field work.”

Barty sighed.  Sometimes, he’d fantasized about being kidnapped by a beautiful Californian woman.  He looked down at his little book of assignments. He hadn’t imagined it would end up with him being an accountant.

At least they’d given him a promotion.

 

Last Night’s Writing

Last night, I was feeling like I was running on one cylinder and running out of gas, but I play this writing game, 4theWords, and I really wanted to move up one step on the leaderboards for battles.

Which meant 4 130-word (or so) battles.

So I asked for suggestions on Mastodon, and this is what  came of it. 

Well, technically, two of these weren’t even from suggestions…

But anyway!  Words!

📝

Filling the Boots

He woke and shook out the cards. Continue reading

The Empire Falls; The Emperor Stands

My Giraffe (Zebra) Call is open!

Written to @dahob‘s prompt.

🦓

It was the day past the Autumnal Equinox, and the Emperor wasn’t dead.

The Rothenkill Empire, a wide-spanning mass of bureaucrats, generals, courtiers, financiers, farmers, and clerks, waited with their collective breaths held.

The servants of the Emperor moved slowly and carefully, as if their heads might fall off if they went about their tasks too quickly, or if they said the wrong thing.

Everyone was waiting.  Everyone was confused.  And almost everyone was worried.

In the Rothenkill Empire, it was said that the Emperors fell with the leaves.  And, like leaves, it was known that sometimes, the Emperors needed a little push, a helpful shove.

So where was the shove?

“This is nor normal,” complained the Chief Financier in charge of budgets. “What are we going to do?  Someone should do something.”

“Someone has to do something,” complained the Head Bureaucrat in charge of law distribution, re-writing, and deletion.

“Won’t someone do something?” pleaded the General of the Imperial Armies.  “He’s starting to give orders that make sense and can’t be ignored!  What are we going to do if we can’t ignore him?”

The Emperor, snug on his throne, pretended he could hear none of this.  He hadn’t ascended to the Poison Throne by looking or acting particularly bright, after all.  None of his predecessors had, either, not in decades, possibly not in centuries.

“The problem is,” muttered a person serving as a handmaiden, “nobody remembers how.”  Her grandmother had once helped off three emperors in a row, but that had been when you got a class of emperor that sometimes needed a shove.  “And with this one, I’m not going to risk it.”

And the Emperor smiled as the empire – the mass of functionaries that had killed his father, his grandfather, and countless of his various uncles and cousins – began to crumble under its own confusion.

  

 

Two snippets to Prompts

Otherwise known as: I had to make 444 words on #4thewords to keep up my streak, and I didn’t want to write anything else…

First to @dahob’s prompt here and second to Rix’s prompt here

On some level, it was a fascinating study in closed genetic populations. This little island had been cut off from everything else since the End Wars. The bridges had been blown, the waters had become impassible, and a series of bad explosions of magic meant that most people didn’t even remember that it existed.

If a Finder hadn’t targeted it as holding useful resources, it might have gone another seventy-five years before anyone noticed it was there.

As it was, the island had a small population that seemed entirely to consist of rabbit-Change fae. They were very rabbity, more so than any other rabbit-Changes the team had ever seen. And they were very definitely at war.

As far as the team could tell, the striped-looking rabbit people were fighting with the pointed-like-a-Siamese-cat rabbit people over territory rights on the ruins of the single large town in the center of the island. It had gotten quite violent, from the blood and the bodies and the missing limbs, and they hardly noticed the team’s arrival.

Since the team’s goal was at the side of the island, not the center, they were tempted to just let the rabbit gang war continue, but, seriously, there was too much interesting information to be garnered, so they grabbed one of each and hauled them off to get some information.

By the time they left, they’d identified five of each breed – turned out there were sub-breeds – to kidnap, and had even done a little bit of peace-making in the gang war. There was much more to be had from this tiny island, but they had their own war to fight first.


“Seriously, what are you doing?”

The Mara had purple-red wings and looked to be almost as short as Luke. Male, golden-skinned and golden-haired, they stooped into a dive and landed directly in front of Conrad. “You call this a battle plan?”

Conrad looked the Mara up and down. “I’m sorry, you are…?”

He was in no mood to put up with pureblood bullshit. His wife and kids were half a country away, where he couldn’t protect them, and he was fighting would-be gods with the weapons at hands, which might as well be sticks and stones.

“Piotr, called Catapult. You need better weapons.” The Mara bowed deeply. “Just so happens, I’m a weapon.”

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January By the Numbers Eighteen: Miracle (ficlet)

January by the numbers continues (still three days off, meeps~)!
From DaHob’s prompt “miracle;” a ficlet.

🙌
“There was a time,” Golbeck told his daughter, “when the gods came down every weekend. They would amaze us with their miracles, they would charm us with their dances, they would sing songs for the honor of our nubile youths. And then they would take those youths away, not to be seen for weeks or months or even years.”

“Time flows differently there,” Golbeck’s line-wife Tenrin put in. Her voice was dreamy and quiet, and her eyes were looking off somewhere that was not their home. “A day there might be a year or two here, or it might be twenty years — or only two or three nights.”

“Some people say, because of that, that the gods have not left us, but are merely napping. The gods do sleep,” Golbeck commented, and now it was his turn to sound dreamy, lost in some past memory. “They nap, they rest, they snore like any common human does. But it has been so long-“

“A lifetime,” Tenrin whispered.

“Forever, it seem,” murmured Juspor, their line-husband and the oldest of this generation. “Forever, since they came down. Forever since they blessed up.”

“Forever since they took any of us.” Pakeyya was the second-oldest of the wives, but she looked as young as their youngest. “Some say the gods have packed up and gone to wherever it is they go, never to return.”

“Then what does that mean for us?” Golbeck’s daughter asked, wide-eyed: Golbeck’s daughter, with the star-sparkles in her eyes and the song in her voice. “Everyone left here? Everyone who never knew the gods?”

Her father kissed her forehead, and if there were stars in his eyes, too, they were only the memory of divinity. “We live our lives. We bring what miracles we can to ordinary existence. We love our families.”

“We move past the memories,” Tenrin murmured. “We grow past the parties.”

“We remember we are not divine,” Juspor muttered dryly, “and do our best with humanity.”

🌅
Up in the home of the gods, Yerrinarishan, the god of the harvest, lay with a damp cloth over his eyes. Feperallin, goddess of all things of song, closed the door quietly behind her.

“I’ve got the last of them home. Pretty thing; we’ll have to invite her out with us again. Patie something? Parkour? Pateyya.”

“If she’s still alive next weekend.” Yerrinarishan lifted the cloth off two of his eyes to look at his companion-goddess. “You know how it goes. We come back a couple days later and they’re all gone.”

“Should I go get her now, then? Ilspar and Wendar-Fen have gotten the place cleaned up, or, at least, it’s less horrid now.”

“Oof, didn’t we keep a couple of them around for the cleanup? We always did before.”

“Oh, Mepper got pissy about it. Something about exploiting them. I tell you, they never minded being exploited when I did it.”

“Still… Maybe we should go get her. Or, hey.” Feperallin sat up abruptly and just as quickly laid back down, covering all nine eyes with the cloth. “…they have offspring, don’t they? Humans do that. We could bring her offspring up here.”

He held his head and whimpered. “…tomorrow night. Tomorrow, when I’m not so hung over.”
⛰️
Back in the world, Golbeck grew older and his daughter grew to adulthood, waiting for another miracle.

Want More?

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Assume, a story for the Gender & Sexuality Theme, available for Patreon patrons now!

I started out with Hob’s punnish prompt and I may have just invented a new world. Also, Coffee Shop, because, well, there’s coffee shop AU’s everywhere so I just decided the U should be in a coffee shop.

Ahem. It was late and I was sleepy-giddy. Have a story. New ‘Verse.

The shop wasn’t all that busy. Haley wasn’t surprised: it was the middle of the day on the Thursday before Christmas, they were in a college-town area, not a high retail-traffic sort of place, and the snow was knee deep in the shallow parts. They were only open for the UPS drivers & bus drivers, if she was going to be honest. And to give Cady the hours, because Cady needed the money.

Haley didn’t mind having the extra help…

read on…

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Through the Portal – an incomplete catgirl invasion – for all to read on Patreon

The invasion happened overnight (as far as the Americas were concerned, at least). The portals opened, circles of blue light no bigger than a porthole, in bedrooms and offices and stores and streets around the world, and then they closed again, just as the sensors were starting to detect them, closed again.

There were witnesses, of course; even in places where it was midnight, not everyone was sleeping, and in places where it was daylight, the portals opened in very public places. All of them told the same story:

read on…

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“Complications” up on Patreon for anyone to read

“And I hope I never see you again!”

The door slammed shut with a clang of finality. Karl leaned against the wall and put his hands over his face. It wasn’t dark yet; he had maybe fifteen minute till the moon came up. It didn’t matter. He couldn’t go after her.

read on…

My Patreon free story is up for all to read! This short story is in my “Animal People” theme, and features a bit of a relationship… complication.

Want to read all my Patreon stories? Pledge just $1/month. Or pledge $5/month and prompt fiction every month!

Bonus: your first prompt will be written to, even over the month’s cap, so you can sneak in an extra story for the month (or more, if you get your friends to pledge, too).

Double bonus: first $5 pledge puts us back into the serial-post-a-month milestone!

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Certain Things Remain (to One), a story of the Aunt Family for all to read on Patreon

“He’s your cousin.” Karen’s mother made the word sound positively scandalous.

“It’s not as if he’s my first cousin or something,” Karen countered tiredly. She’d already had this conversation with a sister, two cousins, and her mother’s aunt Betty. “To find a common ancestor — and only one of them, I might add – you have to go back up two family splits to a great-grandmother who married three times. Gerry down the street is more related to me than that.”

“But…” Her mother made a distressed noise. “You’re not supposed to… supposed to…”

read on…

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