Hello my friends! It has been an immensely weird month, but I did post a lot on Patreon.
Below is everything Stranded World I posted in January – some stories, some meta, a little more meta, and some links. Winter featured heavily this month. I find that interesting.
The room felt wrong. His sisters, Winter thought, might have said that it was creepy or oogy or sick, although sometimes sick was a good thing.
Talk about a quest. Two years ago, Mikah Meyer set out to become the youngest person to visit all 417 U.S. National Park Service sites. Since then, the 31-year-old…
There are not really enough pictures out there of strings of light or strings connecting people, so when I’m looking for pictures for Stranded World, I come up with some pretty interesting things.
First, two notes:
One: I think that Winter engages in a combination of actually knowing how to tailor his own clothing and using strand-working to make everything lie Just So, because I do not picture any of the RoundTree siblings particularly rich (Summer might be, eventually, but who knows?) but damn, the man dresses like a million bucks.
I was playing around a little with Pinterest and Image Search today.
Here’s some pictures that are pretty close to Autumn’s garb at the Ren Fest, although her costumes are almost always in red, orange, gold, and brown.
If you’re new to my settings, you may be wondering what this Stranded World is all about.
So here are a couple worldbuilding reposts talking about the magic of the Stranded world!
Autumn spends a lot of time in really small towns. I mean, some of that is just that’s what she seems to like, but you’d think she’d spend more time in big cities that have big craft festivals, wouldn’t you? I mean, she’s trying to make enough of a living to pay for the occasional inn or motel or Bed N’ Breakfast room, and those aren’t cheap.
I like small towns.
Maggie’s Ell Jay made me think
And I knew if I had my chance
That I could make words sing and dance
And maybe make them think, too, for a while.♪♫♪
A long time ago, M.C.A. Hogarth posted something in her LJ about tropes she’d like to see. One of them – which I have tried more than once to write – was about the young male (it might have been a mage?) recruiting the older female (fighter?)
According to Wikipedia, this book came out in 1982. I don’t think I read it that early at all – I would’ve been six – but someone recommended it to my father, and I read it. I was probably in my early teens.
For a portion of every year, Autumn lives out of her van, travelling from Craft Fest to Ren Faire to City Historical Days, selling her art and sometimes solving mysteries.
Winter wasn’t surprised when he came in to find the new temp crying.
Their job wasn’t the sort of place that lent itself easily to short-term or temporary help, and yet their supervisor, intent on getting caught up on her filing, kept trying.
It’s not quite a kaiju story… but it involves Aliens, at least? According to the address on this, I submitted it at over five years ago, at my last apartment.
The Center was slow today; in three hours, Amy hadn’t seen more than half a dozen refugees pass her desk. Maybe – though there was faint hope of it – the war was finally winding down?
<a href=https://www.patreon.com/posts/trunk-story-for-11894099Free for all “Trunk” Level Patrons!
Originally posted Mar. 7, 2012
“I do not know what this is.”
Winter frowned at the glass rose that had appeared in his office mail cube; behind him, Latricia laughed.
“It’s a rose. It’s not going to bite you.”
This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1341567.html. You can comment here or there.
After discussing it with my Patreon patrons, I’ve decided that any Patreon story written as a continuation of an extant public story will be made available for general consumption after three months. Here’s the first two.
This story includes portions originally posted http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/665445.html and http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/697268.html to make a complete story.
There was something amiss with Winter’s sister.
With the oldest of Winter’s sisters and the most steady, the most easy-going, the least likely to have things go amiss.
This is written to Clare K. R. Miller ‘s request for More Daxton & Esha.
Daxton was captive again, struggling not to take it in ill grace. This time, it seemed unlikely that Esha could rescue him.
It was a captivity far more posh and sometimes far less comfortable than his time in the Red Queen’s dungeons.
This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1341151.html. You can comment here or there.
In the past – when Winter is in his late teens
Winter leaned forward, his lips only a millimeter from Karen Schneider’s.
He could feel the place where the Strands were about to be disturbed. He could see the disturbance, even with his eyes closed.
He kissed her anyway. Kissed her and then wrapped an arm around her and rolled them both to the side.
“What!” she gasped and tried to pull away, but Winter had practice with this, if not with Karen.
The water balloons hit the tree behind them, right where they would have been if he hadn’t rolled them.
Winter released Karen and rolled off to his side so she didn’t feel the least bit restricted, just as his little sisters ran up to him.
“Winter!” Summer complained. “You cheated!”
Karen was finally catching up with what was going on. “You saw them coming?”
“Heard them,” he temporized. “I like this shirt. I imagined you didn’t want it getting soaked.”
It was a nice mint-green top, thin enough that even dry, he could see the lines of her bra strap through it. Wet, it would have left nothing at all to the imagination.
She blushed. “Thanks. Thanks, it’s just… you startled me.”
“You cheated,” Summer repeated.
“No.” Winter had far too much practice not getting irritated with his sisters. “As I recall, you three promised not to bother Karen and I for at least an hour. So I’d say you cheated.”
“Come on.” Autumn took Summer and Spring’s arms and steered them away. “He’s not any fun when he has company.”
Winter appreciated the gesture, but he could see that it was already too late for this particular date.
This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1270515.html. You can comment here or there.
This is the requested continuation of the following stories:
“Your mother is something else.” Marina glanced at the back seat of WInter’s sensible and spacious sedan, where Mila and Henry were sleeping. “Your family is… is something else.”
Winter smiled, because he thought it would make her uncomfortable if he frowned. “Is that a good thing?” Continue reading
The story that began with this little series…
…is completed here on Patreon.
The man glared at Summer through the tilted fence panel. He wasn’t a pleasant-looking man; he had stringy hair and a weedy beard, a greasy, pallid complexion and notable body odor. But he was an important man, at least at the moment. “This is a private party!”
Summer’s cheeks were flushed and she was just about ready to die. She’d gone through this fence before — with her mother, when she was very young, then later with Winter and Autumn, and later still, all five of them together. She’d stepped a little sideways, and… what had gone wrong this time?
She coughed. “Sir, I’m sorry… (read on…)
Pledge now and read all my stories!
This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1108032.html. You can comment here or there.
This story of Stranded World began as a series of connected vignettes on Dreamwidth, all of which are collected here; the story then continues to an actual conclusion of sorts.
There was a man at the festival with an eye-tattoo that winked.
Autumn hadn’t been sure the first time. There were several beautiful pieces of ink wandering around this ‘fest – it was pushing a hundred degrees out, and everyone was wearing just about as little as they could get away with. And there was this man, topless and wearing short khaki shorts and Birkenstocks, and the eye centered on his spine had a perfectly-shaded iris. And then it was closed. And then there was the pupil again. Continue reading
After /concurrent with “Nothing could possib-lie go wrong.”
“Hey, the insurance convention’s down the street!”
Festivals like this one were not exactly Winter’s cup of tea, nor were they his forte, nor were they a place of pleasure for him. They were loud and raucous, chaotic by nature, and crowded. And as much as he disliked them, other people disliked him being there.
“Look, man, I don’t know what they told you at the academy, but that’s just not undercover. Also, I’m not dealing anything illegal here.”
They were, however, the best place to meet other Strand-weavers, if you knew the proper places to look.
“Excuse me.” The woman in the pottery booth looked less likely to dislike him on sight than many. Her strands were calm and her peace was deep and thorough. “Have you seen anyone else who looks grossly out of…”
“Hey, who do you kids think you are! This is a private party!”
“Excuse me.” He nodded politely at the woman. “I think I see who I’m looking for now.”
This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1088595.html. You can comment here or there.