T. linked me to an interesting infographic here: How big a backyard do you need to live off the land?
Be forewarned – the original source is a solar panel company (I think), so the infographic is slightly tilted towards “cover your roof in solar panels,” but it’s otherwise a pretty reasonable source.
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I got this wordpress blog, more or less by accident, and when I found out all of my wordpress comments were linking to it…
…well, I made it a (hopefully) comprehensive list of my writing.
It seemed better than having it sit around as an empty “hello world” page, anyway.
This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/776584.html. You can comment here or there.
A Few Stories
Through the Blank Plains
Robot – both in the Clockwork Apoc.
Bad Reception – in the Faerie Apoc setting.
The Daily Grind – for ![[community profile]](http://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
dailyprompt: Every day, the same ‘ol grind.
A Bit of My Life
The Hazards of Being Sick & Grown-Up
Spanish Rice (Recipe Blogpost)
My Webserials
Edally Academy: Interlude – The Dormitories
Jumping Rings: Chapter Four – Duck
Feedback Requested
A Meme! – Give me a line of a story I haven’t Written
Character Motivations – Name any character of mine
Other People: Book Launches
Toad Words by ursulav
Vinny the Armadillo Makes a Friend! by haikujaguar
Some Things Transcend and 2nd Edition Even the Wingless by haikujaguar
Other People: Prompt Calls
K Orion Fray has a Prompt Call open for fiction – the theme is revenge.
![[personal profile]](http://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
inventrix is looking for demifiction prompts for her Saeland (Invisible Dragons) setting.
Clockwork Apocalypse
The Job – Three Word Wednesday
The Easy Way & Hard (for Three-Word Wednesday)
Addergoole & Post-Apoc
The Clean-Up (Post-Addergoole Apoc: Baram’s Elves)
Not All Bad (Blaecleah’s story, Yr 27)
Rick-(steam)Rolled by Loooove (songfic)
The Dead Gods Come Visiting
Reynard Spills His Story – Reynard’s story (post-apoc)
…Tied up With String♪♪
Reiassan – Steam
Character Meme – Tairiekie
Character Meme – Tairiekie
Reiassan Demifiction
Pieces of non-fiction written in a fictional fantasy setting
The Prompt Call
Shoes & Fashion
History Text
Notes from Sandrenno of Ferania
Book Review: The Ideztozhyuh Strode Out of the Mountain
Wanted Poster
Boom Town & Doomsday Academy
Center Street
This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/776439.html. You can comment here or there.
From dailyprompt, 2014-08-14: “I’ve never met anyone like you.
She’d sit down. She’d buy a drink and then, after a moment’s consideration or an hour’s, she’d buy him one too.
She’d slowly lose the tension that held her shoulders stiff, as she even more slowly sipped her second drink, or her third.
And he’d wait until he saw that tilt of her head, and he’d wander over, nursing the drink she’d bought him. He’d slide into a seat, just so, letting her grope him with her eyes until she’d had her fill. He’d sip his drink like he was making love to it, until her eyes filled in the blanks.
“I’ve never met anyone like you,” she’d say, or “you’re nothing like the guys at home,” or “you’re new.”
And he’d smile, and blush prettily, and say something that said nothing, something that pulled the attention back to her.
And she’d bring the circle back to him again, sooner or later, another drink in or three.
“You’re a really good listener,” or “I haven’t met many guys as well-dressed as you,” or “you have really nice eyes.”
And he would smile, and blush prettily, and say something that said nothing, and they’d talk about her some more.
And she would invite him up to her room, or she wouldn’t, or she’d invite himself up to his room, or they’d end up in the Jacuzzi. She’d run her hands over his body, and she’d murmur words like “I could just eat you up” or “how are you even real?”
And he would smile, and blush prettily, and say something that said nothing, and then his mouth would be otherwise busy for a while.
And she’d make noises, little ones or loud ones or screaming, and she’d arch and pant or hold very still or yank his hair, and when the alcohol and the exercise had done its job, and she’d passed him over handfuls of money or passed out and left him to take it on his own, he’d slide back out the door, and take a long shower, and a long nap.
And then he’d do it again.
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I’ve been working on the map for Boom Town lately…
Boom Town has three Center Streets, down the center of each circle, wider and with broader sidewalks than the side streets.
Walk down any one of them within the first two years of the city’s founding, and it will be strangely Oz-like: here you are, walking down a broad boulevard, waving wheat to one side, then cotton, corn to the other, then hay. Ducks and chickens wander, their coops barely visible as little roofs above the grain.
And straight down the road, you can see the tower, twisting towards the sky, and a tiny cluster of buildings at its feet.
Walk down the roads four or five years after the city’s founding, and it will seem a bit more odd, perhaps. The road still goes straight to the tower, and the buildings near the center still rise up against the walls as if trying to reach that edifice. But the closer you get to the center, the more houses you can see, just a block away from Center Street, gathered in blocks amongst the grain.
An inn greets you at the gate and, across the street, a restaurant. Closer to the tower, merchants clamor for your business. It’s almost alive.
Six, seven years after the city’s founding, it’s harder to walk straight down Center Street. Wagons, horses, foot traffic, and the very rare automobile clog the road and the sidewalk.
Both sides of the road are lined with businesses – store fronts, restaurants, markets, and service providers (massage, hairdressing, sex…) – and down the side streets, one can see houses far more frequently, almost every other block.
Down the road towards the tower, the traffic is thicker, the storefronts fuller, and the noises and sounds of production, machines clanking, can be heard over the crowds. It’s turning into a city.
This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/775497.html. You can comment here or there.
I posted last week about character motivations and asked for character prompts, so that I could think about & discuss their driving forces.
So far I’ve posted:
* Rozen
* Maureen, Lady Foxglove
* Rin
* Caitrin
* Morrigan
And am certainly open to more.
This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/775254.html. You can comment here or there.
Notes from Sandrenno of Ferania, Bitrani Ambassador to Lannamer in ~725 R – the paper has been chewed at, leaving us only some of his thoughts.
As found in the Lannamer Museum under “Bitrani and Calenyena Relations.”
[text obscured]
does not grow here with the ease that it grows at home, and thus they must find substitutes, poor as they are. I recommend any posted here to have a strong stomach and an iron constitution, or one will soon grow sick of parsnips and parsnips.
Their sweets, however – and they love sweets – are a curious and yet delicious [text obscured].
In short, be prepared and bring a supply of edible food with you.
Clothing
These people but an almost-superstitious amount of weight on their clothing, and thus, any ambassador here will have to pay close attention to every piece of garb they wear, no matter how it goes against the grain of our plain Bitrani souls.
And yet, even paying attention, we will stand out – they care which side your tunic is buttoned on, where we wear ours buttoned down the center. They care what colors are showing – or how many, or in what order.
Showing, you ask? Yes. They wear layer after layer after layer here – needed in their winters, but I do not know how they handle it in summer – and the fancier the dress, the more wealthy the person, the more the lower layers show and the more elaborate they are.
In addition to the tunics themselves, the accessories speak their own language. To begin with, there are bracelets that their “Bevvai” wear (nobody will explain to me what a “Bevvai” is), bangles that appear to lock on, patterned in the gods’ colors and run through with more sira than any piece of jewelry [text obscured]
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First in this story: Unwelcome Guests
Previous: Kicking Out Unwelcome Guests
I have more planned, but this was a good stop point for this part. 673 words.
“Your target was never here.” Baram punctuated his sentence with a sharp kick to the bikers’ leader’s ribs. The woman grunted, and, on the other side of the field of battle, the nearly-dead tank made a pained noise.
Interesting.
Worry about it later. Baram picked up the boy. “This one stays with us. And your flamethrower.”
“Keep the girl, we need the boy.”
Even more interesting. Baram shifted his weight to his back foot, Jaelie’s cue to pick up the negotiation. “If you need the boy, even more reason we should keep him. You were the ones who were dumb enough to attack us on our home territory.”
“We were hunting down a target the boy said was here.”
“Then he’s not that good, is he? Both stay.”
“If we swear that our gang will never bother you or yours again…”
“Then you’ll be making reasonable precautions to stay alive.” Jaelie relented, just a bit. She shifted forward. “Look, we’ll keep the boy for six months. Come back then, and you can have him.”
“And the girl?”
“She’s ours. Come back in two years and we might – might – talk abut it.”
“You could-”
“We could kill you. I wouldn’t even have to get my hands dirty.” Baram admired, silently, the way that Jaelie made it sound casual. She was tough as nails. All of them were. “The tree will do it for me.”
“Six months on the boy. He’s yours until then. Two years on the girl. She’s her own woman, good luck holding on to her.”
“We’ll hold on to her.” Via jumped down from the wall and grinned. “One way or another. You get on down the road before we change our mind.”
Baram put a foot on the fire-thrower’s arrow-pinned wrists and nodded to Jaelie. She grabbed the seer boy and hauled him to his feet, pushing him against the wall.
The trees let go of the biker boss, and what was left of her merry band managed to get themselves onto their bikes and onto the road.
That left Baram and the girls to deal with the prisoners. “You.” He toed the girl on the ground. “You belong to Viatrix for the next year.”
The girl grunted. “Or what?”
“Or I let the trees have you.”
She twisted to look at the trees, which were reaching out to her with greedy arms. “I Belong to Viatrix for the next year.”
“Yes, you do.” Via pulled out the arrow with a yank, and the girl screamed. “Come with me.” She shot off instructions as she walked, and the girl pulled herself to her feet.
If she stayed that rough, Baram would have to talk to her. Hopefully, it settled down once she had the girl under control.
“Do you want me to get Aly, Boss?” Jaelie manhandled the boy over to him. “I mean, I already have Wish, and he’s enough for any two normal people…”
Baram showed his teeth. He’d meant it to be a smile, but Swish made him snarl. “No. No, this one’s mine.” He poked the boy in the chest. “Six months.”
The boy squirmed, and couldn’t quite look Baram in the face. “Six months.” His Adam’s apple bobbed as he tried to clear his throat. “I Belong to you for the next six months, sir.” He dropped to his knees and offered up his wrists. “I come to you with nothing, and everything I have will come from you.”
Baram shot a glare at Jaelie and Via, because he couldn’t very well glare at the kid, could he? He wrapped his hand carefully around the boy’s outstretched wrists. “You Belong to me,” he agreed, “for the next six months. To…” Aly or Jaelie would have done the words better. “to use and to protect. To shelter, to command. Yes?”
Now, the boy looked at him. “Yes.”
They still had two former “friends” in the basement to deal with. But Baram figured their actual prisoners of war might come first. “Come, then. Be Mine.”
This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/774557.html. You can comment here or there.
Homer: Can you let me out of the boat?
Brazilian Kidnapper: What for?
Homer: [Whining]I have to go do a piss.
Brazilian Kidnapper: [Annoyed] Again?
Homer: I’m sorry, I have a bladder the size of a Brazil nut.
Brazilian Kidnapper: We just call them nuts here.
Simpsons, Season 13: Blame it on Lisa
We made Spanish Rice Monday for dinner – we are on the great Clean Out The Freezer quest, and the first thing to come to T’s hand was ground beef. We have peppers, bell & hot, ripening in the garden, and I’ve been in a rice mood.
Thus: Spanish rice. It’s one of those dishes, like stir-fry, that you don’t need a recipe for, but I looked it up just for fun (our version involves white long-grain rice, tomatoes, the last of a jar of salsa, the aforementioned ground beef, onions, the white ends of some bok choy, and a strange variety of spices that included Tabasco and Garam Masala)
I got a kick out of the Wikipedia article:
Etymology
Although called “Spanish rice”, this dish is unknown in Spain. The term “Spanish rice” is not used by Mexicans or Mexican food enthusiasts, and its use probably stems from the fact that the Spanish language is spoken in Mexico; the dish is usually simply referred to as arroz (“rice”) in Mexico.
“…here in Mexico we just call that rice.”
~
I got all the way through this & then realized that my quote might make it sound like I don’t know the difference between Spain, Mexico, and (Portuguese-speaking) Brazil. Not the case! We’re a Simpsons-joke household, and that one comes up even in totally inaccurate situations (“…here in France we just call that toast.”)
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