Small packages
Bigger is not necessarily better. I know, I know—size matters, and all that. People do say that. But as always, it’s not what you’ve got: it’s what you do with it that matters. Read the rest of this entry »
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Bigger is not necessarily better. I know, I know—size matters, and all that. People do say that. But as always, it’s not what you’ve got: it’s what you do with it that matters. Read the rest of this entry »
The snow crunched under Etienne’s feet as he slowly and deliberately made his way across the great open space that would, in warmer weather, be a verdant lawn. It was a long way from the manor house to the stand of trees on the south side of the grounds, and already he was beginning to feel the chill. It would not do for him to be shivering with cold; it simply would not. Read the rest of this entry »
No shepherds here. No wise men. No baby. No stable, either. No bright, bright star up in the sky. Just an angel. Read the rest of this entry »
It was a hard life, living in the Wastelands. No one denied that. In fact, it was one of the hardest lives one could be born to. It was even harder living on the edge of the Great Fissure. No one quite believed that, unless they themselves had been born to it. Or exiled there. Read the rest of this entry »
He hated the term. He hated it, but no matter what he did, no matter who he tried to be, he could not escape it. He had been trapped by it from the very beginning, from his very incept date, for the phrase had been prominently featured in his homeostatic promotional material—in shining, swirling letters, in multiple languages, and repeated in subliminal whispers that could barely be heard, yet made their way deep into the mind and all but guaranteed a purchase, if not actual satisfaction. In fact, if he had come with an interactive instruction manual—which he had not—the phrase would no doubt have been emblazoned across every virtual page.
Basic pleasure model.
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For Halloween this year, or rather for the ongoing series of run-up parties and gatherings I’ve been enjoying attending, I’ve been sorting through the shockingly large accumulation of outfits and avatars in my “Bare Rose†inventory folder. Needless to say, it’s been a fascinating experience. How did so many things from Bare Rose pile up? I only wondered that until I remembered how a typical shopping trip to that amazing store tends to go, at least for me:
It is not widely known that the Fae Airborne Legion played a critical role in several key victories during the Clockworks Campaign of 1864. In fact, the very existence of the Fae Airborne Legion is not widely known. This is doubtless due to the fae people’s resistance to fame and publicity. Written history (human, of course, as the fae keep no such tradition) is all but mum on the subject. Nonetheless, oral histories of fae and human alike document and retell tales of decisive victories, such as the one at Gorham Grange, that would surely have been routs but for the contributions of the FAL. Read the rest of this entry »
Although it was a “new release†announcement that brought me to jada Tigerpaw’s grungy-punky-fantasy clothing and accessories shop Returned Karma, in the end it actually wasn’t the new release I ended up taking home. Not that the new release (a grunge/fantasy outfit called Biter; think Taylor Lautner as Jacob Black) doesn’t look good—don’t get me wrong, it looks great. No, it was just that, after browsing the small but varied collection of men’s items, I found myself most intrigued by this fantasy ensemble, called Sticky Rice. Read the rest of this entry »
When the Gunmage arrived at Fort Stygian, he was struck by the sheer desolation of the place. He supposed that should have been surprising—after all, what did one expect of a place its residents had decided to call Stygian? And apparently with no irony whatsoever. His trek across the desert had been long and arduous, so imagine his dismay when he discovered that the fortified town had been built not encircling a spring or oasis but on the edge of a live volcanic crater, heaving with molten rock almost to the surface. It was truly a sight to behold, if one could manage to do more than squint in the sulfurous smoke and shimmering heat. He had heard that the magma well was reputedly a fantastic power source, although the means of extraction or conversation was apparently (and understandably) a profound secret. Hopefully this meant that he would have no trouble obtaining charge for his plasma-bulb weapons. Read the rest of this entry »
The children of Babbage have long heard and known tales of the Steam Bunny. Parents recount them to their little ones (and ones not always so very little), who sit in rapt attention, their faces glowing in the flickering light of hissing gas lamps. Every year, shortly after the Spring Equinox—the following interval is said to be based on an obscure calculation involving the temperature at which water turns to steam and the constant Pi—the Steam Bunny appears. Glowing at first with the heat of a blast furnace, but cooling as he hops and clanks along the cobbled streets of Babbage Square, Port Babbage and Clockhaven, he stops at each home, no matter how poor or grand, to leave gifts for the children dwelling therein. Read the rest of this entry »