Tag Archive | prompter: mara

A Matter of State

Malina & Matters of State

This comes after the current story as of today in Malina & the Border Banners, assume it’s a side story.

This was prompted in my Bisexual Visibility Day prompt call.


“There are things you will need to consider as the Queen of this place.”

The sand-cat paced on the desk, lecturing the girl, who had been named Malina Serafina Anastazja Dominika Naveed Jeleń nic Cecília O Alexandre, but who we will call Malina for the purposes of this story. “There are many things about which you will need to learn,” the cat continued. 

“The borders.”  Malina nodded slowly.  “Yes.  And war.  And the magic, right? I don’t know anything about the magic yet.  And – and the – how these worlds are connected and -“

She felt like she was just beginning her studies again, like everything was strange and nothing made sense and she was running just to try to keep up. 

“No, important things.”  The cat huffed.  “Well, other important things.”

“Other important things?  Cat, if I have to worry about one more thing, I might just walk back into the desert and hug a cactus.”

“Not a cactus.”  The cat jumped up onto her shoulder in one leap.  “Not a cactus, no.  You will be Ruler here.  You will need a Consort.  Or several.  You will need a lineage, and you will need to share the weight of the crown and the scepter and all they mean.”

“Consorts. Consorts.  You want me to think about consorts?”

“I don’t want you to think about them in the specific yet, no.  I want you to consider, for a moment – let us call it as a break between everything else that you are worried about – things that you would be interested in, things that a consort ought to show.  For instance, a smooth, shiny coat of fur, an upright tail, ears that aren’t too bitten by fights, a good run-“

Malina laughed.  “I think the ears are the least – well, all right, I have seen a few people who’ve lost a little bit of ear in a fight, people who stand on two legs like me, that is.  So you want me to write down what I think Royal Consorts ought to be like.”  She paused, halfway to picking up her pen.  “You said more than one.  One ought to be able to help me with an heir, of course – but do they all need to be male?”

“I can’t see why.”  The cat sat down on the desk and stared at her.  “I can’t see any reason why you can’t think about everything that would please you.  You are – or will be – queen, after all.”


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Unplumbed Depths

From now through mid day Thursday, August 6th, I have a Prompt Call running here – anyone can prompt and please do!


“Have you ever wondered where all this stuff comes from?” Bryn spent a moment untangling a fishhook from a book.  The book, dripping and draped in seaweed, still glowed faintly with letters in a language neither Bryn nor Johnie could read.

“Not really.”  Johnie, of little imagination but a great deal of persistence, cast again.  In the hour they had been fishing, they had both caught enough boots to shoe a particularly left-leaning army, but actual fish, the sort of things one could eat for dinner, were still in short supply.  “Figure they come from some sort of shipwreck, back before the upheaval, you know?  Same way sometimes you go to dig up your garden and instead you find old bones and pieces of pottery.”

“Pottery doesn’t glow.”  Bryn dropped the book, already nearly dry, in a box dedicated to such things and cast again.  “Okay, most pottery doesn’t glow.  That pot your parents found – that was pretty impressive.”

“‘Till my uncle started going mad, yeah.  Then it was a little less fun.”  Johnie reeled in a bowl, carved from, for all appearances, a single large chunk of wood. “Oh, good, we can make leather-hide-and-no-fish soup.  Except we don’t even have any no-fish yet.”

“I’ve got a bit.”  Bryn braced against the pier’s biggest piling.  “Oh, this one is nuts.  What did I catch, one of the shipfish?  Oh, blasted barrens-”  Bryn leaned back hard and reeled in.  “I think I’ve got it, I think I’ve got it-”

“Maybe -”  Johnie had taken a step backwards and then another.  “Maybe you should let it go.  I know it’s a really good pole – but maybe it’s, uh.  Maybe it’s a little too good?  I’m just saying…”

Bryn followed Johnie’s shaking finger to the water, where something was frothing the surface badly.  A tentacle waved out of the splashing, looking nothing at all like the peaceful squidlings that inhabited the nearby rivers.  This thing was nearly as thick around as Bryn’s waist, twice as long as Bryn was tall, and it was clearly connected to something underwater.  And now it was being joined by another, and another…

“Maybe I ought to let go.”  It was a really good pole, one that had come from a stash of the before things.  Bryn tried to make reluctant fingers release from the handle, but the hours of work spent getting this pole, cleaning it up, fixing its two small breaks…

“Bryn!  It’s now or never!”

Bryn’s fingers almost released, but the jerking of the poll made both hands tighten in reflex.  Bryn screamed as the pole flew into the water, taking Bryn with it, landing in the middle of the splashing mess of angry tentacles.

Through the inky blackness, Bryn could see lights deep underwater.  Something about the lights said temple, but something brighter seemed to say library. 

Then a tentacle wrapped around Bryn’s waist, and the only thing Bryn was thinking about was get me out of here.


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Two Microfics/Tootfics From Last Night

I was feeling a bit meh last night, but I wanted to write *something*, so I took a couple prompts for toot fic – fic that fits in a 500-character toot on Mastodon. 

This is what I got.


The thing about a baby was, it was literally made of connections. Polly finished spinning wool from her friend’s sheep, twisting into it a strand of the feelings she had for her friend.

She wound the yarn into a ball with sororal affection and the big-sister feeling that never went away, then reached for the line that connected the mother & father to the baby.

Babies were born of connections. She knit the echo of those connections into a tiny sweater of protection & love.


To @DialMforMara‘s prompt: Knitting with Strands. 


“Damn.” The book hit the tile. “Fuck. Shit.” Amy’s arms went up. “This… fuck.”

“Fuck,” Tod and Amy saw eye to eye for once. “We can – can not…” The word he had need for was too long. Every word was too long.

“Draw!” Amy went to work with a pen on the tile. “Pic-”

“Icon.” Tod did the same. “Icon.”

The 👿 was the 1st of its kind to be sent to hell with a 😀.


To @tomasino’s prompt

A grammatical demon has been summoned at Oxford and was let free accidentally by the lack of a third comma. It has already devoured all words longer than four letters.