Archive | February 3, 2016

Groundhog Day, Faerie Apocalypse, a Landing Page

Fran wakes up in a small post-apocalyptic town. Something’s wrong, and the townspeople are antsy. But is there more wrong than just the wolf at the door?

Part One: Dreamwidth ~ Live Journal
The sun rose. Fran woke to the dim glare coming in through curtains that would never rot…
Part Two: Dreamwidth ~ Live Journal
Fran woke before the sun to the distinctive creak of polyester bedding. She pried herself up onto an elbow… ugly curtains from the 80’s…
Part Three: Dreamwidth ~ Live Journal
Fran woke with a start. The world was too soft…
Part Four: Dreamwidth ~ Live Journal
Fran forced herself awake early. The night was still dark, but she could feel that the leaves she’d gone to sleep in had already transformed themselves into a cheap motel bed.
Part Five: Dreamwidth ~ Live Journal
Fran snuck into the bell tower and hid…

Part Six: Dreamwidth ~ Livejournal
Part Seven: DW~LJ
Part Eight: DW~LJ

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The Magical Disaster, a story beginning written off of a 7th Sanctum prompt

From this prompt generator: http://www.seventhsanctum.com/generate.php?Genname=writeprompt


We survived the magical disaster by hiding in her bank, or that’s what they thought.

We used the same trick we always did: play off of people’s assumptions. We crawled out from under a table and staggered out of the building with the two dozen people who’d been hiding in there. We looked woozy – I really was woozy, and Sharna’s expertise was in faking any number of illnesses and weakness. And we were genuinely surprised by the chaos outside.

We looked a little strange, but even the people hiding in strong stone buildings like the bank had been affected by the backlash. We looked a little lost, but that was easily explained by the wooziness. The hardest part to explain would have been our ID’s, and there was such a mess outside that nobody cared, not even the police.

The sweetest part of the mess? One of those police looked Sharna straight in the face and didn’t recognize her. Her face had been on wanted posters all over town…

…but that had been back home. I wondered how long it would be before they realized that the magical catastrophe had opened doors into other worlds? By then, I was sure, we’d already have vanished into this world and be working on another con.

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Trouble in Cloverleaf, Continued, for @InspectrCaracal, 467 words

First part here
Second part here
Third part here.

This story is of questionable canonicality – it probably happened, probably about 100 years after Cya & Leo graduate from Addergoole (or about 93 years after the end of the world) – but the exact date is up in the air, as well as some details.

All Leo lines in this story are as-written by [personal profile] inventrix in the roleplay that sparked this


Leo stared levelly at Luke, taking his time about answering. Luke wondered if he was working around an order. Cynara always had been thorough about that sort of thing with her Kept.

“Outside the outer walls,” he finally came up with, “if you want to be completely certain.”

That was a lovely place for a trap. “Good.” It was also inarguably outside of Cynara’s domain. “Let’s go there.”

He stalked behind a silent Leo all the way to the gate. People stared. He didn’t mind. He was a Mara, after all. He was supposed to be frightening.

Leo was not the least bit frightened. They stood on the grassy plain outside of Cloverleaf, Leo returning Luke’s glare calmly. “Now that we’re safe,” he began, with more sarcasm than Luke had known Leo was capable of, “maybe you can explain why you’re here unannounced?”

Luke grabbed for words. I was worried sounded too weak, too stupid. You were an idiot was a matter of course for cy’Luca, sadly. If he visited every former student who’d been stupid, he’d never have time to teach.

“What happened?” he snarled. Leo knew why he was here. He was just wasting time.

“You’re going to have to be more specific.”

No, he was taunting Luke, playing with him.

“Don’t give me that shit.” What sort of game was he playing? What was Cynara playing at? “Mike comes back from one of his little ‘field trips’, and there you are on the front page of this place’s newspaper, collared.

“So?” The little shit looked smug.

Luke reminded himself that punching someone else’s Kept was a crime, and that he really did not want to get in a war with Boom. He took several calming breaths and counted to ten in his head. “Leo. Who collared you?”

Either it hadn’t been the question Leo had been expecting, or Luke had hit a nerve. Leo’s smile was tight and humorless. “Cya, obviously. I thought you already figured that out.”

“Why in hell would you allow something like that to happen?” Was he stuck? Did he need help getting out of the situation? “Did she fuck with your head?”

Mike, he realized, would be yelling at him about his level of tact (or lack thereof) right now. Luke didn’t care. This was his Student.

His Student who was about as impressed with him right now as Mike would be. Leo was not shouting at Luke, but even he could tell the boy was close.

“No. She did not. I would appreciate it if you would avoid making unfounded accusations against my crew.”

It’s your crew that’s the problem. Luke barely managed to not say it. He counted to ten again and tried to calm himself down. They didn’t want a war. They didn’t want a war.


Next: soon

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Languary, a finish!

I am almost done translating an opening sentence into Whispers Drop!

I write this sitting in the kitchen sink. —Dodie Smith, I Capture the Castle (1948)

Write this – (I am) sitting sink kitchen while in – I

Hunsharn din shimorn tishor [kitchen] chur-chi – [I]

All I have left is kitchen as a modifier and a personal pronoun!

so durd-, “used for” is probably right here, it’s the sink used for kitchen.

Kitchen, kitchen.

Okay, “To cook” is tenda

He/she cooks (continuous) is tendothechi, in

tothechi, cooks-in, kitchen.

durdtothechi, for the kitchen

And Personal pronouns!

Fan, Feb, fif, fefi I, she, he, ungendered-person,

Hunsharn din shimorn tishor durdtothechi chur-chi – fan

Yay! I did it!

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Groundhog Day, Faerie Apocalypse, Part VII


Part One: Dreamwidth ~ Live Journal
Part Two: Dreamwidth ~ Live Journal
Part Three: Dreamwidth ~ Livejournal
Part Four: Dreamwidth ~ Livejournal
Part Five: Dreamwidth ~ Livejournal
Part Six: Dreamwidth ~ Livejournal


Fran woke the Mayor. “Gorjarn is coming. He’s going to demand me, but it doesn’t work out any better for your people if you give me over or don’t.” To the sleepy man’s face, she explained, “I’m a Ranger. We’re supposed to know things. This is what we’re going to do.”

She knew where all the weapons were. She set the mayor to waking up people and gathering them. She grabbed a team of sleepy farmers to repair the walls. Too many scouts had come through that weak spot, come up over the tree.

That left her free to do a series of protective Workings while she walked in circles around the camp, pointing out flaws and correcting weapons stances. They had only a few hours, and they were sleepy and confused. It might not work.

“Look,” she said, not directly to the teenager, but nobody else was around. “This might not work this time. But if it doesn’t work this time, it’ll work next time. Okay?”

Nobody answered her. Somehow she wasn’t surprised.


Next: DW~LJ


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