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The Red-Tree Folly: âThe Churchâ
I did a little more work on the strange little building I made. Continue reading
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A bonus post, because I was entertaining myself.
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The series of follies – small buildings, in other situations often in formal gardens, designed to be decorative while often resembling some purpose-built building – known most commonly as The Red-Tree Follies dot the landscape in a wavering set of ovals from east to west, providing lovely places for a picnic, for an eveningâs rest, or for a small wedding.
This story is set in 1864, one year after Abe Lincoln made Thanksgiving a national holiday. Parties take time to plan, dontcha know?
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Luke knew Mike had set him up the minute he walked into the party.
The way the fancy people in their expensive dresses turned to stare, the whispers that he couldnât imagine he wasnât supposed to hear:
Originally posted January 3, 2012.
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Now.
Tom looked at the knife the girl had given him, if you could call it a knife. He didnât look long; there was a monster in front of him. There had been a lot of monsters in front of him lately, since the â well, since whatever the hell had happened.
AU Ponderings: The Council has no Authority
Okay, this started out when I was trying to write a story for Patreon (Legends and Myths, Fae Apoc) and sort of failed, but I had this idea about the Council (the ruling body of the “Good Guys” fae, the Shenera Enderaei, the Children of the Law), inherently having no authority to do what they do. And since I’ve played with the idea of Cloverleaf/Boom/Cya facing down the Council before…
This is set some long time after the founding of Cloverleaf, and is non-canon.
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âWe are here to see how well you are abiding by the regulations of the Council. Â Your position as a pro facto dictator here raises a red flag in our books, and we will be here until we have passed judgement or removed you from power.â
Cya looked at the people in front of her. Â She looked at the woman standing to her left. Â âThis is a âMan on the Moonâ situation,â she told the woman.
The woman nodded and vanished. Â Cya smiled. Â The expression was small, polite, restrained. Â People who knew her the best â and only them â knew that it meant she was absolutely furious.
The space of three heartbeats passed. Â âI do not acknowledge your authority to judge me,â she told the people calmly. Continue reading
The Red Tree Follies I – a Metafiction of Fae Apoc for Patreon
A bonus post, because I was entertaining myself.
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The series of follies – small buildings, in other situations often in formal gardens, designed to be decorative while often resembling some purpose-built building – known most commonly as The Red-Tree Follies dot the landscape in a wavering set of ovals from east to west, providing lovely places for a picnic, for an eveningâs rest, or for a small wedding. Â They have been mapped and drawn, painted and studied in recent years. Â Still, much about them remains a mystery.
What we do not know about the Red-tree follies far outweighs what we do know, so we will begin with the ascertainable facts. Continue reading
First thanksgiving – a Tale of Addergoolians for Patreon
In which we prove that I am lousy at naming things, oops.
Luke and Mike are from Addergoole. Luke is Seneca Indian; Mike is a gender-swapping Dutch minx.
This story is set in 1864, one year after Abe Lincoln made Thanksgiving a national holiday. Parties take time to plan, dontcha know?
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Luke knew Mike had set him up the minute he walked into the party.
The way the fancy people in their expensive dresses turned to stare, the whispers that he couldnât imagine he wasnât supposed to hear:
Isnât he supposed to be on a reservation?
Do they eat real food?
They let them serve in the Armed Forces? Oh, as scouts, of course â but that rank canât be real. Continue reading
Followed, Anticipated- a story of Fae Apoc for Patreon
If you are new to my Fae Apoc setting, Kai(lani) and Rozen are from my Addergoole series.
This story takes place 50 years past the original story, nearly 40 years after the apocalypse, after the Retirement stories.
Short summary: Rozen, a âbig bad wolfâ in school at Addergoole, managed to finally piss off Regine, the schoolâs Director, enough that she mind-controlled him into a Belonging (magical slavery; âKeepingâ) and shipped him, literally, to Kailani, her protege, ignorant of or uncaring about the romantic/sexual/violent tension that had existed between those two in school.Â
Since Kai was growing too old to pretend to be human in her current locale, she chose to go on the road with her new, somewhat violent, companion.Â
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Kailani and Rozen were being followed.
Not exactly followed â more like followed-in-front-of â and not by a person or people. Â Rozen would have been able to deal with people.
(If he was allowed to, of course. Â He had no physical collar, because in the places they were travelling, sometimes having a collared person with her would get Kai killed and sometimes it would get him killed and, either way, it was a dangerous luxury. Â He wondered sometimes if having a physical collar would have helped him get used to the uncomfortable feeling of being on a leash. )
They were being anticipated by rumor and legend, and Rozen didnât like what they were saying.
He was Masked, of course, and Kaiâs disguise was to go back to the way sheâd looked at sixteen and seventeen, fresh-faced and not that much like the aging Dean Storm. Â So when people told them about the midnight-skinned man with white hair and red eyes, he was pretty sure they werenât seeing his middling-brown skin, hair, and eyes and thinking they were talking about him.
âI swear, Kai, Iâve never been through that town before.â Â She was frowning, had been frowning since they left the town â in more of a hurry than they normally did, almost enough to bring attention to themselves. âAny of these towns weâve been through. Â Iââ Â He shifted. Â âI stuck to the northwest and, uh, the Lakes, you know that.â Continue reading
To the Garden – a story for Patreon
After The Gardener and The Garden. Set in the midst of the Faerie Apocalypse that gives that setting its name.Â
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The would-be gods came and went, and Damkina gardened.
She had not known, when she was younger, how much damage fighting caused. Â The last time the gods had been here, she, too, had fought, to hold them off to banish them.
This time she did not fight. Â She stood by her apprenticeâs side and, with the people of the city, she built a garden.
Her boss – her former boss, she supposed, but better to think âonce and futureâ – directed salvage teams to things that ought to be saved. Â A CEO of a famous business was helping to rearrange housing so that all those refugees who asked for a place could be given it.
Today, as almost every day since they had first held off a would-be godling, a small crowd of people followed her, chanting as she had taught them. Â Today, as she did every day, she had taken an hour with the strongest voices to show them how to shape the trees and plants to their wishes and not her own.
âTempero Huamu, Qorawiyay Huamu, Aistrigh Huamu, Quipia Huamu, as Dam-kina Wishes.â Continue reading
Patreon Posts!
In apple season, we make this an average of once a week. Â As a matter of fact, we just diced up a whole bunch of apples, dipped âem in lemon-juice-water, and stored them in the freezer (Chinese soup containers) with the sugar needed for four of these cakes.
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Originally posted March 10, 2013. Â In Vasâ World, in the âFirst settlersâ era.
A Â continuation of Holy Fuck, itâs Snowing.
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The snow kept falling.
The clear-sky thing hadnât lasted for more than a few hours; now the sun struggled to be seen through thick layers of cloud cover, and the flakes fell and fell and fell.
Originally posted Oct. 15, 2011. This is a story of Baram. Actually⌠Iâm going to put in a bit from Addergoole: TOS first. Warning: discussions of death, violence. đš
âThat hairdo took a long time,â [Shahin] told [Baram], sounding blandly irritated, âand youâve messed it all up.â It gave her time to peel off a glove â the long sleeves of her widowâs weeds would still cover her wrists â and rest her hand on his forearm.
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Protected: Catboy, Uncaged
Patreon Posts!
Oops⌠catching up!
Two Chapters!
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Chapter Fifteen: Being Childish
Nimbus woke the next morning from a sleep sounder than she could remember  having.  Her hands tingled slightly at the poultices  Cartwright had wrapped around them, but most of the pain was gone, and she had slept long and heavily in the leaf-down bed.
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Chapter Sixteen: The First Man Down the Stalk
Cartwright had moved this and that around while they packed up, such that Nimbus now found her pack more comfortable to carry while she was fairly sure she was carrying more than she had been. They walked along under the shade of Aereaxera, the birds and lizards chirping at them in the early-morning haze.
Originally posted Oct. 31, 2012
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November, Year 11 of the Addergoole School
(This is a prequel to the Baram’s-Elves stories)
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“Going to celebrate Thanksgiving?”
The girl who worked the desk at the shop was chatty, always chatty, even with Baram. He shrugged at her. He didn’t bother smiling. Nobody thought it was friendly.
Every weekend for several years, T. & I have been making this oatmeal. A few months ago, we actually settled it down to weights, because it was getting kinda variable in size.
Itâs not really a recipe, more of a formula, so Iâm offering it here free.