Archive | September 16, 2011

Tattercoat Bard

New flash series! I’m going to write one flash for every Icon I have, over 4 LJ accounts, 1 DW, and a whole bunch of not-currently-in-use, until I get bored or run out of icons.

(Yes, if you want to make me an icon to get me to write a flash about it, you can. In that case, I’ll even write 2x as much!)

I’m starting with DW, in alphabetical order. Today’s icon:

Stranded World, Autumn.

Icon & Art by Djinni

Also [community profile] dailyprompt “perched precariously on a ladder” and “beautiful morning”.

This is the prequel to Love Letters and Colder Weather.

“Beautiful morning, m’lady.” The bard passing through waved up at Autumn, who, perched precariously on a ladder, was trying to get her sign hung.

“You hast a strange idea of beautiful,” she muttered; the sky was threatening rain and the wind was ripping at her sign. And he… she glanced at him again, as he climbed up the other side of her booth and reached for the sign. “Thou’rt new, too.”

“Nay, for ‘new’ would suggest someone who was planning to stay, and I am but a vagabond knave, a tattercoat bard.” He sketched a one-handed bow. “They call me Ian the Inglorious.”

“I’m sure they do,” she smirked. “They call me Autumn.”

“That time of year thou mayst in me behold,/When yellow leaves, or none, or few do hang,” he recited, and then shook his head. “Nay, thou art ‘more lovely and more temperate’ than even a summer’s day, and no more agéd than a Spring morn.”

“Thou art truly golden-tongued,” she murmured, but he had gotten her sign straightened while he mangled the Bard. “But Spring and Summer art my sisters, and I am the leaves that fall in harvest time.”

“But I hear,” he continued, leaping down from his perch to offer her an entirely unnecessary hand, “that the fruits of early Autumn are the sweetest, the best for the longer to savor them, to wait. And I, Lady Autumn, have been waiting for your like for quite some time.”

Savoring the flattery, Autumn took his hand.


Tattercoats is abusing Shakespeare’s Sonnets 18 and 73.

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Friday, with goodbyes and fire

Yesterday, we cleaned out the old apartment and turned in our keys. Carpet shampooers are both awesome and scary (there was THAT much dirt in our rug? O_O)

That place is where we buried our Gatsby-cat last summer, so it was harder leaving it than most places. I said goodbye again, and got rather teary. He was a very good kitty. I will miss him forever.


We are pondering a wood stove for House, after fuel-oil sticker shock. The one we want will run us about $2000, but we’re thinking of putting in a smaller, cheaper one now, then moving that to the garage next year or the year after when we can afford the one we want. Fire is nice heat when you have oil as back-up.


Tomorrow is my monthly call for prompts. The theme will be abandoned, lost, and left behind.


And this – – is wee and adorable.

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