Originally posted March 9th, 2011.
They were building it anew.
There hadn’t been much left after the devastation, and the city they’d lived in had been a stinking, rotten, fetid ruin. Better to leave it to the dead and dying, better to leave the diseases to work their course. Those of them who could walk, who could carry a pack, who wanted to live, had banded together and headed for the hills.
Nobody in the Fae Apoc really knows what’s going on, do they…?
The Grigori would not listen to her.
Natela was not particularly surprised. For one, the Grigori rarely listened to anyone who was not Grigori, and although she had their blood, she was not of them, but by their standards.
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This story takes place 50 years past the original story, nearly 40 years after the apocalypse, after the Retirement stories.
Kailani and Rozen were being followed.
Not exactly followed — more like followed-in-front-of — and not by a person or people. Rozen would have been able to deal with people.
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A bonus post, because I was entertaining myself.
The series of follies – small buildings, in other situations often in formal gardens, designed to be decorative while often resembling some purpose-built building – known most commonly as The Red-Tree Follies dot the landscape in a wavering set of ovals from east to west, providing lovely places for a picnic, for an evening’s rest, or for a small wedding.
Red Tree Follies I
This story is set in 1864, one year after Abe Lincoln made Thanksgiving a national holiday. Parties take time to plan, dontcha know?
Luke knew Mike had set him up the minute he walked into the party.
The way the fancy people in their expensive dresses turned to stare, the whispers that he couldn’t imagine he wasn’t supposed to hear:
Originally posted January 3, 2012.
Tom looked at the knife the girl had given him, if you could call it a knife. He didn’t look long; there was a monster in front of him. There had been a lot of monsters in front of him lately, since the – well, since whatever the hell had happened.
In apple season, we make this an average of once a week. As a matter of fact, we just diced up a whole bunch of apples, dipped ‘em in lemon-juice-water, and stored them in the freezer (Chinese soup containers) with the sugar needed for four of these cakes.
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Originally posted March 10, 2013. In Vas’ World, in the “First settlers” era.
A continuation of Holy Fuck, it’s Snowing.
The snow kept falling.
The clear-sky thing hadn’t lasted for more than a few hours; now the sun struggled to be seen through thick layers of cloud cover, and the flakes fell and fell and fell.
Originally posted Oct. 15, 2011. This is a story of Baram. Actually… I’m going to put in a bit from Addergoole: TOS first. Warning: discussions of death, violence.
“That hairdo took a long time,” [Shahin] told [Baram], sounding blandly irritated, “and you’ve messed it all up.” It gave her time to peel off a glove – the long sleeves of her widow’s weeds would still cover her wrists – and rest her hand on his forearm.
Oops… catching up!
Chapter Fifteen: Being Childish
Nimbus woke the next morning from a sleep sounder than she could remember having. Her hands tingled slightly at the poultices Cartwright had wrapped around them, but most of the pain was gone, and she had slept long and heavily in the leaf-down bed.
Chapter Sixteen: The First Man Down the Stalk
Cartwright had moved this and that around while they packed up, such that Nimbus now found her pack more comfortable to carry while she was fairly sure she was carrying more than she had been. They walked along under the shade of Aereaxera, the birds and lizards chirping at them in the early-morning haze.
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Originally posted Oct. 31, 2012
November, Year 11 of the Addergoole School
(This is a prequel to the Baram’s-Elves stories)
“Going to celebrate Thanksgiving?”
The girl who worked the desk at the shop was chatty, always chatty, even with Baram. He shrugged at her. He didn’t bother smiling. Nobody thought it was friendly.
Every weekend for several years, T. & I have been making this oatmeal. A few months ago, we actually settled it down to weights, because it was getting kinda variable in size.
It’s not really a recipe, more of a formula, so I’m offering it here free.
If I had been made to make a list, back in the times Before, of people I would most like to be stranded on a desert island with, he would not have been on the list…
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Originally posted January 2013
“There’s a problem with the second restriction.”
The country of Foros had a lot of gods, and, like any good nation with a lot of gods, it had a lot of priests.
This is another recipe that is more than half technique, modified from an online recipe.
Sometimes you want a few pancakes, sometimes you want a lot. Sometimes you want a Just Right Amount, right in the middle.
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Originally posted April 29, 2012
If Jean had learned anything in the five years he’d been married to Zoe (and twice that if you included dating), it was that when her family said “tradition,” the best thing to do was to shut up and get out of the way.
The spellbook had been one of the best finds on the planet they had poetically called 17-5-12.
The original population had been something very close to humanoid, as far as the drawings, the records, and the shapes of the buildings showed.
Warning: this one makes me cry to read it. Written on or around December 2010.
In the Northeast, every city, every town, every blink-and-you’ll-miss-it village has at least one, a grove of trees that will never know the cut of a saw.
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“Fore!… Damnit! I don’t know what’s up with me today, Jim, I just can’t swing a damn stick!”
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Originally posted Aug. 10, 2011
I think it’s fair that I thought Farnah was male.
This week on What an Old House, we’re doing some exploratory demolition in our 1860’s farmhouse’s bathroom.
Now this bathroom has some interesting features right from the get-go. You can see from the photos that the entire bathroom was covered in these 50’s-era Masonite panels.
Take a Peek!
This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1355606.html. You can comment here or there.
Originally posted Oct. 28, 2011
Officially, the Sandborn Institute and Lady Cassidy’s Academy for Young Ladies did not have mixers. There was nothing the Black Tower wanted to hear from the Pumpkin, and nothing the Pumpkin wanted to say to the Tower.
This is just a little story of summertime and beaches, because I wanted to.
At first, we all thought it was some asshole in a particularly good Godzilla costume.
This is written to @medic‘s very enthusiastic “More, more!” to No Rest on This Beach
So there we were, eight-foot Godzilla-like thing on the beach smashing sandcastles and throwing around policemen, and I, at least, had been planning for a nice quiet weekend blending in with the locals and watching the myth of the supernatural from a nice safe place.
This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1348765.html. You can comment here or there.
So we tried a thing last night and it actually turned out well!
We had ground beef to eat and it was way too hot for eating spaghetti or hamburgers or anything too hot.
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Originally posted June 16, 2011.
The sushi bar had a mermaid in its fish tank.
I was new in town, having just recently parlayed my experience with the Agency into a cushy consulting gig and my hazard pay into a nice little house…
These are walking onions. They make bulbs on the top of their stalks, which make another stalk with another bulb, which makes… you guessed it, another stalk with another bulb!!
Take a Peek!
This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1344352.html. You can comment here or there.
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?
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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.