Something was just a little too — a little too easy.
Abseil put her hand over the mouthpiece. “Someone – guys, get someone watching the front door. Get the mall to close the doors if you can,” she murmured quietly,. She didn’t want to lose her comfort here. She didn’t want to be left on her own, but —
But she had a responsibility.
Olly and Kevin stayed, arms tight around her, as she went back to the phone. Continue reading
First: Purchased: Negotiation
Previous: Unicorn
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They sat there for a moment. Leander was trying to come up with something to say that wasn’t sir, you’re weird, and that terrifies me, and Mr. MacDiarmid seemed to be trying to come up with anything at all to say on his end.
It was like that, sitting on the floor, one of Mr. MacDiarmad’s hands on Leander’s and the other on his shoulder, that Sylviane found them.
Leander tensed. He didn’t— But — how was he going to explain— Continue reading
A world connected to many other worlds, including our own, by unpredictable and sometimes transitory portals, Portal Bound is both the name of an incomplete story (never posted) in the world and the world itself.
You can find the beginning of the story excerpted on Patreon.
World Building Via Portals
First: Running in the Bear Empire
Previous:59 – Debreif
Next: 61 – By Your Hand
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Floren had gone off to get a map.
Gacharre had headed off to pick up some reports that he had questions about.
Pakkon had left on a thin excuse with a suggestion – a very polite suggestion – that none of the Claw would be back for at least an hour.
“Did they just clear the room to give us time to–” Carrone’s gesture was only evocative if you knew certain Haloran idioms, but since Deline did, it made her grin. Continue reading
This is a few days late, sorry! But it came to my mind on National Coming Out Day.
Nathen (and his headmates) are the protagonists of Afterward(s), the… ahem… novels?… I’m working on. He’s also visible in “Dictator, Dic-TAH-tor…” and “Lightning in Autumn” (which started the whole thing), as well as “Bi Kisses” and possibly my favorite little microfic here.
This is set in approximately the 2060’s, in Cloverleaf.
~*~
The calendar was a surprise. Nathen just wasn’t all that used to them anymore; a lot of places had lost touch with the exact days and weeks for a while, and those that hadn’t had definitely lost touch with things like printed calendars.
But this one, hung behind the bar and claiming to be the most gorgeous people in all of Cloverleaf, was there (Mr. October was indeed gorgeous, but he couldn’t hold a candle to Leo), and the days were neatly X’d off.
It was a Friday – he’d already known that; they were working, after all. And it was apparently October 11th.
How did I never notice that before?
Because it’s usually behind the rum and the vodka. Means we need to restock.
They did that, pulling the big glass bottles out – rum, proper rum. Or possibly improper rum, probably improper rum, all things considered. But still rum. Vodka, which of course could be distilled in formerly-Montana if it could be distilled in probably-still-Russia.
It was only when they were making sure that the glasses were stocked that the date hit Nathen.
“Oh.” He blinked. “It’s Coming Out Day.” How long since he’d thought of that? How long since Pride Parades? How long since that one sweet co-worker who had shyly suggested to him that, since it was National Coming Out Day, maybe he had something to say?
“It’s what?” Xia, who owned the bar was not young, per se, but she definitely was younger than Nathen. Younger than the end of the world.
“Old holiday. Ancient holiday,” he corrected. “Back when being gay was, uh. When it wasn’t quite so accepted. Well.” He cleared his throat. “Back in America, when it wasn’t still as accepted.” There were still places here and there on the continent when just about anything wasn’t accepted. He wasn’t sure that would ever change. But here, here in Cloverleaf, things were a lot… well, easier.
“Oh.” Xia smirked at him. “So you’re saying ‘back in the bad old days.'”
Nathen chuckled. “Yeah. Yeah, I suppose I am.”
The world was doing fine, he supposed, if less than a century later, they could call the days before the apocalypse the bad old days..
Abseil turned to the nearest rack and stared at the clothes in front of her. They were men’s clothes, workout clothes. “Kevin. You’re not normally the gym type, are you? But maybe you’ve been thinking about, I dunno, getting a little more upper body strength and maybe a bit more endurance?”
“Well, uh, yeah. I mean a bit less credulity and maybe a little more self-preservation — what? I do know how to read,” he added defensively.
“Well, I’ve – okay, different world. I’ve never seen our version of you read,” she admitted.
“It’s not like, not like doing it at the lunch table or something, like you and Liv,” he admitted. “More like the sort of thing when you’re home at night and nobody else’s around.” Continue reading
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“Miss RoundTree.”
“Please, call me Summer.”
Summer had a new adviser. By her count, this was the third – fifth if you counted that one who hadn’t lasted long enough to see her or that one who had kicked her out of his office, out of his classroom, and tried to kick her out of his department but failed.
“Summer.”
Mattie MacEachern seemed like a pretty nice sort. New to the college but not new to teaching, looking to settle down someplace small and safe to raise three kids with also-a-professor spouse, and a pretty enthusiastic teacher most of the time.
At the moment, Dr. MacEachern was frowning at Summer.
“You’ve been here for six years.”
“Yes.” There was no point in arguing with the obvious. “It’s a really great college, Dr. MacEachern.”
“I don’t see any problems with the bursar’s office….”
Dr. MacEachern flipped through pages on the website, trying to access the correct file. Summer could have gotten right to the correct page – but that made teachers a little uncomfortable, at least their first year or two.
“The settlement for my father’s death left a generous stipend.” Summer didn’t inflect that at all. There were so many ways people could take it, and none of them ever ended up all that good. “My first three years here were also heavily supported by scholarships, and I did a lot of Work-study work.”
“Past tense? Not anymore?”
“Other kids need the scholarships, Dr. MacEachern.”
Summer had held one more major in her time here than the number of semesters she’d been matriculated, but in all that time, she had never stopped taking theatre classes and working in the theatre department, taking part in theatre club, and generally being a theatre kid. If she couldn’t give just the impression she wanted with any set of words, she really didn’t deserve to be here.
The thing was, at the moment, she didn’t want to give any impression. She wanted to see what Dr. MacEachern did when given nothing but facts to work with.
“So your family is paying for your education out of pocket, then–”
“No. The people responsible for my father’s death are paying for my education out of pocket. And they will continue to do so.” She lifted her chin and stared her new adviser down. “I mean, I keep getting money either way,” she added with a small quirk of her lips, because Dr. MacEachern really wasn’t all that bad, at least not so far. “But once I get my bachelor’s degree, the amount goes down considerably.”
Dr. MacEachern looked down at the notes sitting carefully in a light-blue folder; the professor looked at the computer screen. After a pause so long it couldn’t be called pregnant or expectant anymore, the professor looked back at Summer’s face. “You have-” The folder was shuffled. “You have had how many majors in your time here?”
“One per semester. Plus one time where, uh, things really, really didn’t work out.”
“You have an outstanding GPA. For a small school like this, you are doing wonders for its overall academic average – although not so much for its graduation rate.”
“I know.” She didn’t bother to be modest. She was book-smart. So was Winter.
“And you have – you have friends here?”
“Bishop’s doing grad work across the street at Zimmer U. Melinda’s working on her masters in education here, for the most part.”
“And you are continuing to pursue, it appears, a complete survey of every class provided by this college.”
“Well.” Summer leaned forward, smiling finally. “Only if you can help me. There’s a class – it’s actually a higher-level math class focusing on business statistics – that’s only offered once every four years normally, but I didn’t have the prereq last time it came around, and that was, ah, that was last year.”
Dr. MacEeachern pinched a generous nose. “I have to ask, Miss Roundtree. Are you asking for my help in getting the class offering scheduled moved? I do happen to know who would be teaching it, yes. Or are you asking for my help in finding other things to fill the remaining two and a half years until it’s available again?”
Summer chuckled. “Dr. MacEachern.” She half-bowed from a sitting position. “I think that you and I are going to understand each other just fine. Oh, I have my hopes for classes this semester. And since I haven’t tried your major yet… it seems like it’s time for me to change majors again.”
“I-” Dr. MacEachern studied the paper Summer passed her. “I think, Miss RoundTree, that I might enjoy having you in my classes. But- please bring aspirin next time.”
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