The fighter pilot with the callsign Spice was new to the team and, although all her credentials assured that she was not, indeed, new to space fighting as a concept or a skill, still the team had to be reassured.
Fancy Dresses, long lingering kisses, awkward moments with your friends, bullies… Prom!
Anton had figured he didn’t have a chance.
He was new to Hieder Hill High, he wasn’t one of the popular kids – was the new guy ever the popular guy? – his family wasn’t rich or even that well-off, and he didn’t dress like or act like the popular guys.
I live! It’s been a hell of a month. But here I am.
This story originally posted June 4, 2011.
He came to the school in autumn, once the crops were in. They’d gone back to old habits and old practices in the Academy, as in so much of the world, knowing that the old existed and had survived for so long for a reason.
And On Wordpress…
Originally posted April 15, 2012.
“So what do I do?” He couldn’t help but betray his common roots, she knew, or his American upbringing, but here and now, it rankled.
Originally written March 8, 2012, as a belated birthday present for my mother. It’s about a magical moment.
The forest was still that day.
Their walk took them further and further out past the stem of Aereaxera , past dozens and dozens of the little hezzai-ai and several other fascinating creatures. Cartwright stopped three times to gather plant bundles, which he hung off of his pack till he began to look like a sort of walking herbery.
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.
“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!
The “Junie Joins the Girl Scouts” pair of stories, published on October 18, 20011 & 2013.
There are words a mother never wants to hear. I’ve got a list of them; I keep it in a notebook which is otherwise filled with very boring accounting. I don’t want to give the kids ideas.
Our garden has been loving the sun-rain-sun-rain cycle.
Take a Peek!
Originally posted February 13, 2012. Part of the Aunt Family setting.
The bonfire had died down to embers by midnight. The children were asleep, the husbands and brothers drinking beer and playing poker, and the sisters-in-law settled off watching the children.
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.
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.
Available for all "Recipe Box" patrons!
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!!
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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."
Originally posted Aug. 8th, 2011 - reposted for Pride Month. Stranded World, the middle sister, Summer, negotiating a three-way relationship. Just a light fluffy piece on parents. :-)
They had discussed it all beforehand. Summer’s mom was just an e-mail send. Bishop’s parents: “Dad’ll probably buy me a beer, and mom will swoon. No biggie, really.” So it was Melinda’s parents who would be tricky, and thus they managed to schedule that meeting earliest on Parents’ Weekend.
This story fits in my Toot Planet setting, although it is considerably longer than many of the “tootfics” I have written for it, a tootfic being a fiction of 500 or fewer characters.
You can see many of those tootplanet microfics here, and the hashtag, which began with Catterfly’s planetary art, here.
That being said, here’s the story.
Explorer’s Log, Planet 7-3-3
(Planetary Date 4 days)
We landed harder than planned but not quite a crash, after an EMP on the way in — or something similar enough that the effects appear identical — fried every piece of electronics not in deep storage. Landed hard but not a crash-landing; the shuttle is intact, if unflyable, and so’s the team.
Nimbus pulled her knees up to her chest and looked at Cartwright, trying to be polite but also a little worried — more than a little worried. Quite a bit concerned at his ridiculous assertion. “The watering can?” she repeated carefully. “Is Aereaxera thirsty?”
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This is technically a bonus, since we’ve slipped below the $70 donation milestone, but I have faith that we’ll get back up there soon enough. :-)
The announcements and the invitations had been sent out:
On May 4, 1785, Louisa sh’Venti Horribiles, daughter of Isabella Venti Horribiles and Perry Longa Nocte, has come to her Change into her adult form.
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I don’t know when this originally posted, since it was up as a voting incentive and then taken down, but it says “Last Modified June 3, 2010."
Luca was standing outside of a dance hall in Boston when a gorgeous blonde woman threw herself at him. Bastard or no, he was a gentleman, so he caught her, one hand on her slim waist, the other on her shoulders. Her hair fell forward into his face, filling his nose with an intoxicating scent that no perfume could duplicate.
Originally posted February 18, 2012.
He generally considered this a good start to the day, getting things off on an immediate positive note.
When I posted The Gardener I was asked (and now I can’t find where, sigh) about Damkina and the apocalypse. So here is Damkina and the apocalypse, considerably longer than I’d intended. :-)
The sky was black and red, and in the distance an unearthly howl echoed through the city. But the squash would not forgive her skipping their bug treatment and the weeds in the pepper garden were unseemly.
Damkina muttered wards against bugs as she slammed her hoe into the ground with more force than was strictly necessary.
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Originally posted on 2012. If you sense a theme, it’s likely because “Wine and/or roses” was the Giraffe Call theme in Feb. 2012.
It was, as fairy gifts went, rather strange.
As wedding gifts go, it was even odder.
It was hot so the ganache frosting melted and my food photography really needs work, sorry!
When baking chocolate things in my household, there are two things that we almost always do to up the chocolate flavor, and two more we do as we remember to:
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For those keeping track at home: This is before almost everything in Eva’s timeline except the first few stories (the garage sale, etc.).
Eva stared at her kitchen.
It was her kitchen now.
That was the first thing.
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Originally posted Sep. 22, 2014
Eight p.m. on a Tuesday was not when Semele expected a knock on her door, but she opened it anyway. "Jarah, I thought we agreed.... What?"
"One hundred eight white roses, delivery for Semele cy'Sakamoto."
Today’s Trunk Story was actually published! In the February 2012 issue of EMG-Zine, no longer publishing.
It follows the further adventures of Ruan.
There were many things Ruan loved about having an antiquities dealer and amateur museum curator as a beau: his lovely wit, his beautiful eyes, his way around an aetheric detector. But the thing which she loved the most was his wonderful habit of bring her home toys, gadgets, and devices.
Regarding this particular gadget – perhaps “contraption” was a better word – however, Ruan wasn’t certain if she should be happy, or if disgruntlement was more called for. “What, pray tell, is it?”
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Originally posted on March 19, 2011.
She opened her eyes to the world around her, her memories already fading.
She'd shared some of them with her parents-to-be beforehand, but there was a bit of a language barrier, an image barrier. They could understand, through careful, patient relaying of images, that this was not her first life.
Originally posted on Dec. 19, 2011
“Are you sure you’ll stay, then?”
Shea hadn’t been looking for the underground facility – hadn’t been looking, at least, for this specific, deep-cavern-system underground facility, with its refugee population hidden there since the Catastrophe. But, having found it, and, more importantly, having found them, Shea couldn’t leave without doing something.
Here's some more fiction and poetry from 2005, as I clean out my LiveJournal
Pen between her teeth, she stares into space, muttering snatches of phrase. The words are always there, an ever-flowing stream across her mental meadow...
Originally posted Oct. 2011.
“What have we here?”
Ruan wasn’t so much talking to herself as she was talking to the hodgepodge she was looking through. Her Aunt Tansy hadn’t been, as they say, The Aunt – she was a paternal aunt, for one thing, totally not the right sort, and Ruan’s Aunt Elenora was still alive and well – but the family tradition seemed to hold anyway. Her father’s sister had taken a long walk into the ocean, and it was left to Ruan to clean up her mess.
The last war for the nation of Yestern ended not with a bang, but with a complaint.
“We’re out of tea.”.
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For today, in honor of looking through my LiveJournal archives, I offer some early-2000’s poetry.
Unedited Prayer of Sorts
My lady of the verdant green, why have you forsaken me?
When I was a child, your oaken skirts shielded me
From interlopers and observers; simple faith carried me,
and simple ritual. nothing else was needed:
any people have speculated that if we knew exactly why a bowl of petunias had thought that we would know a lot more about the nature of the Universe than we do now.
Oh, no, not again.
The bowl of petunias plummeted towards the ground, no room in what it could pretend, loosely, was a brain for anything except a vague and dissatisfied sense of what, if you were going to translate it into Galactic Book Standard, would sound mostly like not again.
History and memory did not go past the wall.
It was as tall as anyone could imagine, an unknown width, and it surrounded the Community, giving them room enough to live and grow but no more.
It could not be climbed, being smooth to the touch and unpleasant to be in contact with for any length of time. It could not be drilled through, nor broken. It could not be dug underneath.
In Firrset, as in many places, there are poets. The legend goes that even in the First Days, when there was no food to eat and no time to do anything but hunt, plant, gather, and store, there were poems they would tell each other across the field.
But the greatest poet of the time came quite some time after that, but in a time still mostly buried away from history's records.
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The thing was, she was both the tale-teller and the story. She was both the portrait and the model. She was the song and its subject.
There were theories about that, of course: theories and theses and stories and myths. Stories have a lot of power, after all.
And storytellers have a power, a mystery, all of their own.
I wrote this several years ago as an in-character explanation of why the school was named Addergoole.
“I’ve been wondering, Professor. Why Addergoole?”
It wasn't the primary thing on her mind, of course. They were studying an array of Change descriptions and, of apparently more interest to her Mentor, "inherent non-Working abilities," something that Kai hadn't really been aware existed.
For March, that month when large portions of America pretend to be Irish, I bring you my fictional family of Irish in the Americas - the Tuatha Dé Danann in Tír na Cali. This piece was originally written in August of 2011.
The witch looked over the table at her cousin, a pretty young thing that, until now, everyone had assumed was just daft. The girl was floating the dishes in the air, all of the dishes, weaving them in and out in a series of loops that looked like a Maypole dance.
This ficlet began my Vas' World series of stories, a world-exploration featuring a small landing team of planetary explorers. It was originally posted in January, 2011.
They followed the newly-named Yarthout River all day, their little craft handling its rapids with a smoothness and ease that surprised Vas. Wisely, he kept his surprise to himself; Malia and Ezra would be unbearable enough about their success without him acknowledging it. The boat had been their idea, after all: a quicker way to take a survey of this uninhabited planet.
Worst Play Ever!
The Seventh Street Players' presentation of A Midsummer Night's Dream was cancelled after yesterday's show left five people in a coma.
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Written originally in 2011 - Stranded World, Autumn and Tattercoats in an earlier time.
The content, while not explicitly sexual (there are never 2 people in the same place), is steamy.
The mail drop was hidden in a hole in a tree, twisted around with magic to keep the squirrels from using their letters as nesting, to keep prying eyes from seeing.
One function that Autumn and several other itinerates of her ilk served was as couriers. E-mail could be read, phones tapped, postal mail interrupted. Messages travelling by courier were far less susceptible to tampering or loss; second best were messages left in strand-locked mail drops like this, then moved to the next drop by courier.
This is a series of tiny stories written to an old Love Meme - little vignettes of various characters in various types of love.
Taro and Kailani, from Addergoole the Original Series
First week of Year 5:
"She's gorgeous," Taro told Conrad, who had heard it all already at least a hundred times. "Those eyes. Those legs. That hair. Gods, Con, I've got to have her."
In the spirit of the greats, I offer a rhyming couplet poem I wrote in 2013 as a signal boost incentive. I only got through G, but I do think it's still a fun poem.
It's a survey of my characters and my worlds, from A through, well, G.
A for Aelfgifu, for Audrey, and Autumn,
Addergoole, and Aelfgar's myriad daughters.
The poll has spoken!
The theme for January is Thresholds and Liminal Spaces. For a $5/month pledge, you can leave all the prompts you want.
Doorways literal and figurative, steps into new lives, leaving beyond the old - it's a good theme for a new year.
This was originally posted on February 15, 2012; it's an early-ish story of Stranded world and it involves both thresholds and transitions.
"I think you should come hang out next weekend," Calgary told Autumn, over the last beer of the last day of Faire. "Bifur, Bofur, and Bombur are building a house."
"Seriously?" she raised an eyebrow. She was far too drunk to be polite when faced with that.
Calgary grinned, and quaffed her beer. "Three friends of mine, been together since college. Not Faire folk but fair folk, if you know what I mean...
This story was originally posted Dec. 27th, 2011. It takes place in the Facets of Dusk universe, or, rather, between many of the universes of that setting. The Facets team is moving through Doors between universes, mapping them... or, possibly, stuck trying to find the right one home.
“Working on Christmas,” Xenia grumbled. She checked her weapons again, as if that would help
“Well, what would you prefer?” Aerich snapped. “We could stay here in this wasteland, or we could go through the Door and hope there’s a building with four standing walls there.”
Originally posted on December 26, 2011; these are excerpts from an unwritten novel, “A Star Rises in the East;” in this novel, Jesus Christ was not born in ~0 BCE but in 2012.
Jessica had bypassed frightened and headed straight into a numb sort of terror. She clung tightly to Tyler’s hand, grateful for his presence while cringing as he yelled at the nurse. “What do you mean there’s no-one on duty?”
“It’s a federal holiday. There’s a skeleton staff, but there’s no-one in the OB-GYN department and we weren’t expecting you and your… young lady.”
This was originally posted in January 8, 2012. t's not quite Christmassy, but it definitely involved a giving spirit, so... Happy Holidays!
“The job fairy ain’t going to come give you a job,” Francis’ father used to say, or “the dishes fairy ain’t gonna wash the dishes.” The homework fairy wasn’t going to do his homework, and the wish fairy wasn’t going to make stuff happen.
Francis couldn’t help but laugh, then, when the packages started appearing all over the city.
This was originally posted in August of 2011 and follows Junie from the Dragons Next Door story, pictured above in a sketch by Meeks.
The Smiths had been living next door to us for several months before my daughter informed us, in that self-assured way of children everywhere, that we should stop calling them “Mister and Missus Smith,” that “Cxaidin and Zizny” was correct...
This story was originally posted on Dec. 25, 2011.
“That... that’s the biggest present I’ve ever seen.”
“Well, I suppose I could have made it bigger, but that was the longest iso container they had available.”
“And how did you wrap it?”
“Oh, you know. I hired this company that wraps jets.”
This story was originally posted Dec. 19th, 2011. It is part of the Aunt Family setting, albeit with characters who don't otherwise show up often, if at all.
Everyone, Nelia had decided, had to have one relative they dreaded visiting, especially during the holidays.
In a family as wide, varied, and spread-out as Nelia’s, she wasn’t surprised that she had more than one – two aunts and an uncle, to be specific – that she really wanted nothing to do with. And she wasn’t surprised that Fate dictated she see all of them at least fourteen times a year.
Originally posted here on November 26th, 2011, it is set sometime before the apocalypse, and gives a snapshot of a non-Addergoole Fae Apoc character.
Adham Alamerta knew the score. He knew, as a matter of fact, quite a few scores.
Both a professor and a student of history and anthropology, he’d learned very early on to read the stories written between the lines of human history.
There were more stories written there than most people could imagine.
Originally posted here on October 26th, 2010, it is set in the midst of the apocalypse. I think, of all of the stories from that era, it gives the best feeling for the setting while being a decently-written story as well.
The halls of the internment camp - voluntary relocation center - were nearly empty. In the first couple weeks here, they’d been full and bouncing, as people, antsy in the confined space, a repurposed abandoned high school building, had wandered from room to room, visiting, meeting new people, just looking for an excuse to get out of their barracks...