Jason Momoa(‘s characters) Belong in Fae Apoc

Jan13

I need all of Jason Momoa’s roles to be people in Fae Apoc.

Khal Drogo is an old soldier of the likes of Aelfgar.  He’s been fighting monsters, Nedetakaei, returned gods, and more monsters for longer than he can remember. If he dies, he’ll be reborn into this.  He is a warrior all the way through, but he’s getting a little bit tired.  Picture him riding a motorcycle – or a horse – through the post-apocalypse wasteland with his warriors, chasing down a wyvern or climbing up the side of a giant to cut out their hearts.

https://gameofthrones.fandom.com/wiki/Drogo

Aquaman? He’s younger than Khal Drogo, amusingly (since the role came later in the actor’s life, that is), but he’s a fighter with (obviously) an aquatic Change.  He’s a scrapper, probably over 100 years old but never really grew up all the way, and while he’s deadly with the weapons of choice, he’s also laid-back.  He likes to sit on his beach and drink a beer, toes in the water, ass in the sand ♪

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Aquaman_(film)

And then there’s Ronon!  Ronon Dexhas been out of school (possibly Addergoole) for four or five years, all of which has been surviving an apocalypse.  The Returned God Assholes are after him.  He’s learned to take down wild animals – both the sort that existed on Earth before the apocalypse and the sort that came through the portals with the Returned Gods.  Or MAYBE he ended up falling through a portal and ending up in a strange part of Ellehem for a while before managing to return home.  Either way, he spent years in the wilderness and now he needs to learn how to readjust to whatever society he finds himself with.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ronon_Dex

I have not seen the modern Conan the Barbarian yet (It’s now on my to-watch list) but I can bet that version would fit somewhere in the Fae Apocalypse, too.

I mean… just give me all the Jason Momoa characters forever, please?

The Great January Rebloggening Challenge!

Jan12

Home Site HouseKeeping

I’ve decided that I’m going to start the Home Site HouseKeeping up again for 2021, because, well, it was helpful.

(See The Great August Rebloggening and other posts on the Home Site HouseKeeping tag for more on this)

Of course, then I spent the first two weeks of January sick, cramped up, or sick.

(yay new year?)

Still, that meant that last week was good for doing some basic maintenance stuff. Continue reading →

The Bellamy, Chapter 28

Jan11

📚

“This place,” Amanana explained, “was originally put together in the time  – such as we measure time here – when Glorianna Staeghart was Chief Archivist; she served under Henry, primarily.”

Considering Amanana had led with as we measure time here, Veronika didn’t ask Which Henry or even if that was a King she was referencing or something else, such as, for instance, the head of a governing board.

“It was intended as a way to interest children in the Library portion of the Archives, and from there, in history.  You see, it is Christmas all the time here, although it is sometimes a little more Christmas than other times. ” Continue reading →

Further Live-Writing Commences

Jan8

After looking at the poll, I am going to Live-Write:

  • Saturdays from 1-3 Eastern Time
  • Alternate Thursdays (not the 14th, yes the 21st) from 7:15 – 9:15 Eastern Time.

This covers one of the times available for all 4 people who have voted in the poll.

If you have not voted and think you may show up, please do vote.  Even if your times available are not within my listed times, I will do my best to do at least one session where you can attend.

Live-Writing will continue on the novella, working title “Last Tube to Clarkesville.”

It will be streamed at twitch.tv/LynThorneAlder and the folder on Google Drive is available.

Shit.

Jan7

Shit, this story

THIS STORY

This could be the framing for an anthology of Autumn/Stranded stories.

O_O

Saving the Cult (if not the World), Chapter Thirty-Seven

Jan7

Saving the Cult (If not the World) "It's time." Manfield Lee knew he was good at sounding authoritative even when he didn't know what he was talking about - he'd turned a fortune into a megafortune doing just that, after all, not to mention running the Organization - but right now, he DID know what he was talking about. After all, it was just a date, wasn't it? And if the date turned out to be wrong, well, then he knew exactly what to blame it on, and that blame would fall on the scholars and the psychics, not on him. The other thing Manfield Lee knew how to do was to place the blame in very specific ways that were not him.

The geyser was still coming.  It was smaller, it was weak, but it was a category-2 hurricane instead of a cat-4. It was still going to cause a lot of wreckage if it was allowed to rip through the city.

Hurricanes.  I could stop hurricanes… I have got to do a lot more studying.

She took a breath and squeezed Ethan’s hand.  She lifted the shields to exactly where they needed to be, she braced her feet, and she pushed back against the wave of power. Continue reading →

Total Eclipse of the…

Jan2

Total Eclipse of the...

“Not now, I just need a little more time.  And maybe a little tea.  Maybe a lot of tea.”  Nitya hadn’t even looked up.  From the crick her neck, she thought maybe she hadn’t looked up in quite a while.  Hours?  Weeks?  No, obviously not weeks. 

She stood and stretched, keeping her eyes almost entirely on manuscript in front of her and the notes next to it.

“You know you can’t eat over the manuscripts, Nitya, they’re ancient.  Besides, come on, there’s something you have to see.”

Suula tugged on her roommate’s arm, but Nitya wasn’t moving.  “I’ll come eat in a while.  I got some duplicates made; I can drink some tea and have a couple, oh, I don’t know, energy bars while I look over those.  Suula, I’ve got it figured out.  It’s an eclipse.”

“That’s what I’m trying to tell you, Nitya!  Come on.”  This time, Suula put some muscle behind the tug.  “It’s an eclipse!”

“What?” Nitya blinked at her friend.  “Suula, you’re an astrophysicist, when’ve you been reading ancient proto-Sumerian?”

“What?  Nitya, you need to get out of this basement once in a while.”

“It’s not a basement, it’s a climate-controlled reading room-”

“That’s three stories underground.  Nitya, come on, or I’m going to carry you.  Bring those duplicates, sure, you can tell me about it on the way up.  I promise you, I promise, I’ll bring you dinner in the cafe on the first sub-level after that and buy you the good tea, but come out.  Come on.  Come on, please?”

It was the please that did it – that and the promise of Suula’s cooking.  With a guilty little twist in her gut, Nitya realized she hadn’t been holding up her end of their shared-home agreement very well lately (Suula cooked and stocked the kitchen; Nitya cleaned).  “All right, all right.  So, the piece of the document I’ve been having trouble with?  The part that was copied over in, I think, early Roman era?  It’s talking about an eclipse of the sun.  Which should have been obvious, but the way they described it – it sounded like – like it came with some weird, ah, side effects.  Some tidal shifts that changed where the moon was in the sky.  Which, of course, I don’t have to tell you isn’t the sort of thing a solar eclipse does-”

“Ah.  Say that again?  Tidal shifts and a solar eclipse?”  Suula had stopped on the stairs and was staring at Nitya.  “Anything else?”

“Well, ah.”  She pulled up her copy on her phone. “Let’s see.  There’s the solar eclipse – it’s talking about the darkest day growing darker – and there were earthquakes, which I thought had to be poetic; the region that it’s talking about here-”

She caught herself as the floor shook.  It didn’t shake much, but she could hear something falling in the floor above them.  “Suula-?”

“You were saying?”

“-that the area it was talking about isn’t on a fault line and isn’t known to have earthquakes at all.  So I thought it was like  – well, it was referencing a great screaming and wailing, and -”

She didn’t even bother commenting this time, because even a story beneath the ground, they could already hear the screaming and wailing.

“So.  Ah.  There’s an unpredicted solar eclipse going on outside.  But maybe, uh.  We should find someplace safe instead?”

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So, I’ve been watching StarGate…

No Two Alike…

Jan2

No Two Alike...

All around the town, the pixies and the Zippies were zooming, their high-pitched, tiny voices trailing behind them like streamers of sound.

The First Snowfall of the Year – which was differentiated from the constant snow of the town, from the steady white-ness of their landscape and the piling drifts, by a certain glint to it, a certain sharpness to its edges, and a certain extremity to everything about it – was coming down very late in the day, and it was coming down with particular intensity.

For the pixies, and especially for the Zippies, who were (so said the experts, who might know, although others argued) a very small sub-species of kobold, this was very important.  While every person in the town wanted to read their fortune in the First Snowfall – because that was another thing that differentiated this snowfall from all the others that fell all the time; it was very good for divination – the pixies and the Zippies, being wee, were especially good at snowflake divination.  And dressed in their special Cold-Weather Suits, they could handle the individual flakes without fear of melting the flakes – or of freezing their tiny selves.

The train station, especially, was alight with the tiny creatures, such that one couldn’t move to or from the p Continue reading →

The Void Stares Back

Jan1

The Void Stares Back

The thing about black cats – as with the thing with mirrors (broken or otherwise), the thing with ladders (and going beneath them) and the thing with salt (generally, but not always, spilled) is that black cats are, by their nature – by several of their natures – accretors of energy, at least, of certain kinds of energy.

Black cats, you see, are children of the Void in a way no other cats (there is some argument here; some people would like to point out that specific other cats are also children of the void, especially specific Persians).  They carry within them a spark of magic, a spark of belief, a spark of the mystic.

Not specific black cats, not familiars, not the black cats who live in bookshops – every cat born black as midnight, black as coffee, black as a moonless night in a coal chute.  Every black cat is born with the spark of magic in them, more so than any other cat, because they have been touched by lady Nyx herself. They have been touched by the core of the walnut tree, the blackest ink.  They have been touched by the depths of the sea.  All of this, every black cat knows, somewhere deep, deep in her little fuzzy soul. (And you can tell this, looking at them, if you look exactly at the right moment.)

So what does this mean?

This means that you never treat a black cat with disrespect, of course, because it will bounce off of them like so many laser dots off a mirror and it will stick to you like you are glue.

But it means more that that.

It means that if you spend time around a cat, especially a black cat, all of your actions, all of the, ah, vibes, that you send out into the world, they start to accrete.  The cat acts as a holder for all of that, while not taking any of it into herself (or much; a black cat will become as nasty as any other angry cat if she spends too much time around the wrong sort of vibes).  They accrete, and then, like cat hair, those actions shed off onto you. 

So a black cat is not inherently bad luck, no.

A ladder one walks under is not unlucky, either.  A mirror does not hold your soul, and salt – well, salt is best left for its own story some other time.

But a child of the Void will always reflect one’s actions back on one.  Of course, the world itself will do that, in time, it’s just that the process is faster with cats (as most things are).

For a kind-souled person who is giving, a black cat is a loving purr machine, a warm look at the night-time, a pool of darkest hot cocoa puddled on the foot of the bed.

I think you can guess what a black cat can be, when she crosses the path of that other sort of person.

 

 

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