First: Spoils of War I: Surrender
PLEASE NOTE: I WENT BACK TO THE END OF CHAPTER 21 AND AM REWRITING FROM THAT POINT.
Nikol swung the stick in anger, barely even caring if she hit something — a fountain, a statue, someone.
“Here.” Aran walked up from – she hadn’t been paying attention, how had he snuck up on her? That was ridiculous! She should know where everyone was all the time. Continue reading
First: Purchased: Negotiation
Previous: Soft
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Sorry about this one too. Wow, it’s been weeks!
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“Here.”
Leander didn’t know the woman in front of him, but she clearly already didn’t like him. Her lips were pursed, her brow was furrowed, and she was thrusting a very tall stack of cloth at him.
He took it, noting that the woman was also attractive, older than Sylviane but younger than Mr. MacDiarmad (at least in general appearance), un-collared (unsurprising) and strawberry blonde. Also, she was as tall as he was.
“Thank you?” he tried. In theory, the breakfast table should just be a couple feet away. But there was an angry woman and a pile of cloth — no, a pile of cloth and now she was handing him two bags too — between him and food.
“I am Mr. MacDiarmad’s personal assistant. I am not personal shopper to his staff. Certainly not to Miss MacDiarmad’s staff. If you have any confusion on the matter—” Continue reading
So I have scheduled the last posts of Hidden Mall and Bear Empire and much to my amusement, the last Hidden Mall will be 12/23 and the last Bear Empire will be 12/27 (this makes me want to write an epilogue-epilogue for Hidden Mall to post on 12/30 to completely end the year with ending these two stories).
I have a miniseries planned to fill Bear Empire’s slot for January and maybe February and I’m working on something that should fill the Hidden Mall slot but we’ll see how the responses are, but this is a good time to got through and find something you want to mark as “more please.”
Or, of course, to donate. Lyns like commissions.
Cheers and happy holidays!
First: Running in the Bear Empire
Previous: Father Snake
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Sorry for the delay, guys. I had a final.
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“You’re not the Snake.” The words tripped out of the Fang’s mouth as if he had to say something. “You’re not Father Snake, you’re the Bear, you’re just a Claw of the Bear, and there’s no reason – no reason I should be afraid of you. You’re not-“
She leaned down until her face was a hand-span from his and stared into his eyes. “I’m not?”
He couldn’t look away. “Tell me,” Aucheria growled. The room shook again. “Tell me who, and tell me where.”
“Tell usss,” Deline hissed. The Father Snake hissed. The room trembled.
“All over, you can’t stop us. There’s – we’re everywhere.” Continue reading
“Hello Mall!” Abseil, Liv, Olly, Cassie, Sanders, and Tory stepped through the back-hall door into the Shifting Mall. “Are the other groups here yet?”
GREETINGS MALL SHOPPERS. TODAY YOU WILL FIND GOOD DEALS IN THE DINING COURT, AS WELL AS IN THE FUN HALL AND IN OUR NEWEST STORE, CLOSET COSPLAY. PLEASE VENTURE TO THE DINING COURT TO BEGIN YOUR SHOPPING ADVENTURE. YOU MAY BE INTERESTED IN OUR NEW DISPLAY ALONG THE WAY, TITLED DO NOT MESS WITH THE MALLS.
It had been nearly a month before Abseil had been willing to go into a mall again, and two more weeks after that before she, Liv, and Olly had first ventured back into the Malls behind the Mall. Now, three months later, they’d sorted out all their extra visitors — residents, rather — and Abseil had found herself with two new “foster-sisters.” Continue reading
this one written October 21!
So, the first year we were in our house, someone came onto the property and just started picking apples. Claimed they knocked, but T. was in the garage and they didn’t, say, leave a note or anything, they just started picking.
T. told them to Get Off My Property and, as far as we know, they’ve never come back.
I giggle about this sometimes.
Couple years ago, this guy who looked like a hipster except with a thick Eastern European accent stopped by and wanted to photograph our tree. I told him only if he took some apples. 😉 He took like three reusable-shopping-bags worth and came back later for more.
Last year, a nice guy brought us a gallon of cider BEFORE he started picking apples, and brought us some maple syrup too, and then more cider. Took a lot of apples – we did not have any shortage, let me tell you.
Just got a note from him the other day and, in addition, there’s a nice older lady who stopped by with her grandkids to pick some apples. Hooray! I am super thrilled by people who come to me to get apples. (Especially when they leave cider behind).
But only if they ask first.
Or, you know, happen to bike by while we’re picking apples.
Or come with a good recipe for something we haven’t done with apples yet.
(And we still have more than enough for ourselves, let me tell you, even without breaking into the weird apple trees in the hedge row).
Also, tonight for dinner: Kale Apple Soup.
Today’s Poll Picked the setting of my current impulse project, Digging for Pants.
Okay this is going to be FUN!
Today’s #WorldBuildingWednesday is a setting I dreamed up for my incomplete #NanoWrimo 20…18? story The Jeweled Pomegranate , which could loosely be described as
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Academics Having Adventures
+ Magical Items
+ Forced to Be Together (via said Magical Items)
+ A Ruined Wold.
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So! The Ruins! In a time Before, the world was hit with a series of what are now called subside-ances – pretty much semi-magical sinkholes big enough to swallow, say, the Smithsonian.
That is… almost all I know.
I know there are universities with research professors (& grad students) who they send to explore in these places, either for “grave robbing” (they’re not inherently graves) or information acquisition, and all that grey area in between.
And I know that magical items *definitely* exist.
Oh, and that money exists.
So! I’m asking you: ask me questions! Help me work on #WorldBuilding this world of… exploring a previous era of the world!
First: Spoils of War I: Surrender
PLEASE NOTE: I WENT BACK TO THE END OF CHAPTER 21 AND AM REWRITING FROM THAT POINT.
“Urgh.” She sat in the sun a day later, chemistry books stacked around her, glaring across the street at the town’s little library. “None of this is useful.”
“Well, it’s not magic.” Ford Tejas-Dottir had turned out to be an amazing woman, someone who had at one point been stout, from the looks of her, but carried thinness comfortably. “I’m not sure how you expect it to translate over, exactly…?” Continue reading
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When the Illamorrow Confederacy no longer knew what to do with someone, they gave them one last wish and then put them on a derelict ship with sufficient fuel to leave Confederacy space.
When the Illamorrow Confederacy no longer knew what to do with someone, it generally meant that all their corrective measures had failed, that all of their warnings had fallen on deaf ears, that all of their attempts to enforce their laws had met with absolutely no repentance or apology.
The Illamorrow Confederacy was not very good at dealing with outliers, but say this for them, they did try. They tried over and over again, until sometimes they simply needed to cease trying.
And then –
Then you had someone like Fothitwo Twinshee Pren, who had broken, in alphabetical order, every law the Illamorrow Confederacy held dear, and then had broken every restriction and every punishment the Confederacy attempted to apply. Continue reading
I sort of mushed two of Anke’s prompts together and thus we have this!
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“Call Dr. Takori. Now, please.”
Dr. Felin’s admin assistant looked up from her work, stifled a mutter about not doing anything at all, of course not, and dialed Dr. Takori with a push of her fingers before handing Dr. Felin the phone.
“Yal. Yal, I need you to see this. No, I’m calm, what are you talking about, I’m not on blues, Yal, that was a decade ago.” Dr. Felin’s voice dropped to an annoyed hiss. “Come on, Yal, don’t be like this. I need you to see this – fine. Fine, Stana, could you come out here, please? I promise I won’t throw a fit about any belated procurement, not even the Stygian Cheese Powder.”
Stana swallowed another sigh and followed Dr. Felin, suiting up with the skill of someone who had spent the last 5 years on interstellar digs, out the airlock and from there, to the dig.
At least this rock had nearly breathable atmosphere, so it could be terraformed – and likely would be, and soon, which meant that Felin was in a bit of a hurry. It also meant that if there was a suit accident, it wouldn’t be quite so immediately fatal and they had a chance of getting inside before they suffocated on sweet air.
“Dr. Felin-?” Continue reading