Mini Giraffe Call 2: Transitons

Today's Giraffe Call Theme is Transitions

The Call for Prompts is now CLOSED!

Leave one or many prompts, and I will write (over the next week) at least one microfic (150-500 words) to each prompter (prompts may be combined)

Prompts can be related to one of my extant settings (See my landing page-landing page) or they can be for something completely different.

Prompting is free! But Donations are always welcome.

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

If I get two new prompters or one new donator, I will write a setting piece (setting chosen by poll) explaining something about the prompts.

Because this is a mini-Call, there will be mini-perks!

* For every $15 donated, one prompter chosen at random will get an extra fic written -
* For every $30 donated, one random prompter will get a 500-word continuation.
* Every-$60 level open for suggestions!!

Incentives will carry over the three mini-calls in January.

Words

500 $5.00 USD 750 $7.50 USD 1000 $10.00 USD 1250 $12.50 USD 1500 $15.00 USD 1750 $17.50 USD 2000 $20.00 USD

Into the Doorway, a beginning for Facets of Dusk

To rix_scaedu's prompt.

Facets of Dusk has a landing page here

This is the beginning of their first mission, so comes before almost everything.

They had their assignment.

They had several assignments. There was the primary mission and two spoken secondary missions. There were their individual assignments, overt and covert. And there were a couple that did not come from their nominal leaders.

They had their gear.

Alexa had her Diplomat Clothes, wrinkle-resistant, fast-drying, and professional-looking in almost any environment.

Cole had his weapons. All of them. He had basic survival gear and a full uniform with no insignia anywhere. And he had weapons.

Josie had her backpacking gear and an apothacary's worth of herbal... things. Nobody knew what they were for, but they were light.

Peter had his instruments, and then some more instruments, and a large pad of paper. Nobody knew what they were all for, and some of them were heavy, but Peter carried them all.

Xenia had her weapons, her climbing gear, her survival gear, and her weapons. She weighed every single item, and discarded anything that would weigh her down.

Aerich, as far as they could tell, planned on going forth with an expensive suit, a stunning chin, and monumental arrogance. Very few of these weighed anything, at least.

They had their team.

Xenia shared a look with Cole. Both of them looked at Peter; Xenia's lip curled. Cole glanced at Aerich, his hand resting on his gun. Aerich's lip curled at Josie. Josie's nose wrinkled at Xenia. Xenia looked sidelong at Alexa. And Alexa was giving Peter the stinkeye.

They had their door.

Alexa. It all came down to Aleandra Bianchi. Cole stepped up to one side of her, Xenia to the other. This ought to be a military operation. It ought to be an exploratory mission. Instead, it all hinged on a former diplomat with a barely-tested ability to open doors into other worlds.

Peter ran his instruments over the doorway - deep in the archives of the university, well-camouflaged by opening, mundanely, to a supply room full of microfiche. Three of his instruments screamed at him every time they got near. It was definitely The Door.

They had their orders. Alexa opened the Door. Six mavericks stepped into the doorway.

A team would step out.

Alder By Post

Things didn’t truly start getting fun until the whole class got in on the glitter-bombing.

Let me tell you about Alder by Post.

Once upon a time, eseme said to me, "why don't you do your own postcard magazine?"

And I said, "Hunh, that sounds like a good idea."

And thus Alder by Post was born.

Once a month, I send out a little postcard full to the margins with a little fiction.

Everybody knew that pixies and Tiny Folk hated each other...

She had been waiting, the stories said, for a hundred years...

I try to keep the stories light-hearted and safe for all audiences (my mother reads these). Some are drawn from my extant universes. Some are drawn from Giraffe Call prompts. Some are just stories that pop into my head.

Year two is just about to begin. Join us!

Alder by Post

1 year, US $20.00 USD 1 year, non-US $25.00 USD

Transfer of Power, a story of Addergoole Yr25

For imaginaryfiend's prompt.

This is Shahin & Emrys' daughter, in her second year of Addergoole, and Jeremiah and Rowan's son, in his first year.

"All right."

This had seemed like a clever idea when she'd implemented it. Her parents had done it, after all. One week each, and then mutually together.

She'd needed to one-up her mother, of course. So she'd said "Four months. Be mine for four months and then I'll be yours for four months."

Mangrove had agreed. Nobody had been surprised; Morganna wasn't exactly an un-tempting package, and it was a better deal than anyone else was going to offer him.

But that had been four months ago. Four months ago, today had seemed a very long time off.
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Story-Didn't-Work Bit

This was supposed to be to ellenmillion's Prompt, but it didn't want to work. So here it is anywhere, while I think of what I actually want to write.
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Continued: http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/486742.html

Strange Favors, a continuation of Addergoole Yr 16 for the (December) Giraffe Call

For imaginaryfiend's commissioned continuation of A Couple Helping Hands and Littermate

That yelp. That sound. It wasn't human, wasn't barely alive-sounding, but she knew it. She'd know her brother anywhere. Cúmhaí peeled off the last hand holding her, and, when it wouldn't move, started breaking fingers, fast and nasty, until the hand vanished.

"Nobody touches my brother. Nobody. Touches. My. Brother." She could feel everyone in the room and, what was more, she could feel how much of the creature fighting her was illusion and misdirection. She dove straight for his center of mass, right there, and below there was where the Beagle had already tenderized the bastard...

She was rewarded with a long screaming yowl. "No-one hurts my brother, damn you." She snarled it at the whole room, at the bastard growling at her and pretending she hadn't just added injury to injury, and at the three others she could feel, even if she couldn't see. "And I'll kill every goddamned one of you if I have to, to prove it."
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Next: http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1159682.html