I cheated, this is slightly more than 7, but it was going to annoy me not having the full paragraph posted given where it would end.
It's the rough start of a Sam Vimes character study I'm playing around with, and that will hopefully turn into something more once the thesis is out the way đ
***
The first time Sam Vimes gets brought home by the Watch, he is ten years old.Â
For the crime of being the only member of the Cockbill Street Roaring Lads small enough and agile enough to slip into a house through the upstairs window, his mother clips him around the ear and sends him to bed without supper. He feels a vague sense of shame as his belly rumbles, but a part of him is secretly pleased that for the first time in months she is sitting in the kitchen and eating a full plate of food to herself. He lays quietly and listens while she washes up and heads to her own bed, and once he hears her soft snores he sneaks back downstairs, carefully avoiding the one creaking floorboard that has caught him out many times before. Down in the kitchen he finds his boots and fishes inside the one with the fewest holes, where he stashed the shilling he managed to filch before getting caught. The other lads had scarpered, of course, while he took the walloping for breaking in, but neither the owner nor the bored-looking watchman had apparently thought to check his boots and so at least the bruises have been worth it.
He rolls the grubby coin around in his fingers for a moment, and then carefully uses one of the rickety kitchen chairs to reach the empty biscuit jar on the high shelf. This is where his mother hides her money, although these days he hears how little the jar rattles in her hands when she fetches it down. He slips the shilling inside and fastens it again tightly, then tucks the chair back under the table and creeps back up the stairs to bed.
***
I won't tag people, but feel free to join in if you have something!
You know for the first 18-ish years of your life everyone your age is mostly doing the same things and then all of a sudden every year for the rest of your life somebody your age is getting divorced while somebody else just learned what a leaf is and you have no idea whatâs going on or what youâre supposed to be doing
Nothing. You're SUPPOSED to do nothing. This should be taught at school, people.
Life has no PURPOSE. No end of the line, where your best version of yourself waits to be discovered. Life in general, has no purpose.
BUT. It had Meaning. You can make every moment meaningful. Walking the dog? Meaningful. Playing with a three-year-old. So Meaningful. Reading on your own. Meaningful.
You decide to follow a career path? Meaningful.
You choose to work in a modest job, but focus on your family? Meaningful.
Realising life has no purpose but it has Meaning is, really, rather liberating.
Weâve had to give up the stray human we found in the cargo hold. Turns out Soft Talon Covering already had a ship he got separated from some 3 years ago. Thatâs like 20 in human years! No wonder the poor thing only had what pelts he could gather from ship vermin to wear! Well, those and the dear little rank insignia he wouldnât let go of. You can see here heâs got them pinned to that adorable bandana MgâSeth made him.
Well, turns out good olâ Softy had been hitching rides from ships the whole time to get back to his crew, and when we posted those holovids of him eating pastries and letting our children braid his headfur, the Scampering Wollumf hailed us on the com and, ear leakings from MgâSeth aside, heâs been returned to the Scampering Wollumf and his absolutely gorgeous bond-mate, Grain-based Springtime Dish.
Isnât he a pretty boy? As you can imagine, they are very happy to be back together. Visit the Scampering Wollumfâs Authorized Report Channel for holovids of the reunion.
My hearts have already exploded from the face-nuzzling.
100 Dialogue Tags You Can Use Instead of âSaidâ
For the writers struggling to rid themselves of the classic âsaidâ. Some are repeated in different categories since they fit multiple ones (but those are counted once so it adds up to 100 new words).Â
Just wrote the Main Scene and cool, but trying to round up all the little plot bunnies is like trying to herd a gaggle of toddlers: someone's clutching at you, someone's screaming at you, one is defo missing, this one will lick a streetlamp before you untangle yourself from the other two, and that one there just dandered in a way of upcoming bus. Great stuff.
2. They help other people understand what a healthy relationship looks like.
3. Fights can last for weeks and still be part of a healthy marriage.
4. Stereotypes. Break all the marriage stereotypes.
5. Soft cute couple moments DONâT stop after marriage.
6. Marriage is completely independent of character arcs. Those two individuals with trauma will still be two individuals with trauma but with gold rings.
7. A healthy marriage is one where people understand that their partners have baggage/trauma/flaws, but love them even in rough patches.Â
8. It isnât that healthy marriages arenât compelling, itâs that people donât know how to write marriages correctly.Â
9. Marriages being an end goal often perpetuates that women are trophies to be won.
10. Marriages being an end goal often perpetuates that someoneâs âfreedomâ ends there. Bury this trope, please, I beg of you.
While the getting-together stage is exciting, the having-adventures-together stage is awesome. Iâd love to see more stories about couples taking on the universe together, with their relationship a reliable facet of the background instead of a source of drama.
Sir Terry Pratchett absolutely nailed the art of writing healthy marriages. One of my absolute favourites is Samuel Vimes and Lady Ramkin. Dear goodness, aren't they just fabulous đ
I tell myself that someday these will be valuable collector's items, instead of just an annoying printing error.
Remember that "black hole between the pages" glitch? I found more copies at the bottom of the box with it. Time to print out more little ~collector's item~ leaflets with the missing text. Sigh.
This might be a very controversial take but Sybil being fat with no hair and Adora being weird about golems and Granny being old and a virgin and Magrat being ugly and Agnes being fat and Nanny being Nanny and Cheery existing does more for feminism than 90% of intentionally "feminist" media produced in the past 5-10 years actually
I kept a hand on the pallet of boxes on the hoversled, making sure it didn't wobble while Blip and Blop pushed it up the ramp. It was all held in place solidly enough by high-tech netting much fancier than the kind we used, and I didn't need to worry much. So when we reached the cargo bay and Zhee called for my assistance back on the ground, I didn't feel bad about leaving the Frillians to finish loading it. They were strong enough to muscle anything into place if needed anyway.Â
âWhat's up?â I asked as I trotted back down the ramp.
âThought you might weigh in on their pest problem before we go,â Zhee said with a twitch of his antennae towards the clients whose stuff we were delivering. More Frillians today: not as beefy as Blip and Blop, but with waving frills everywhere that just made Zhee look like a praying mantis among flowers. He also looked smug, but that was nothing new. âI mentioned an animal expert, and they mentioned payment,â he told me.
I came to a stop beside him. âYou know I don't know everything, right? Just putting that out there. My vet training was on Earth.âÂ
âYes yes, I gave them the disclaimers,â Zhee said.Â
The client in front, a tall female with colors like a Siamese Fighting Fish, said, âThatâs better than anyone on our ship has. Something's getting into boxes in our cargo hold, and we can't find it. Tore into some food and made a mess of the animal fibers.âÂ
The shorter male behind her in salmon-peach tones held out a lumpy handful of what looked like brown wool. "My guess is it's making a nest somewhere, but it's being wasteful with the stuff too. Tangled it up something fierce."
My response died on my lips as I got a good look at it. Among the stray fibers was the exact shape of a teddy bear.Â
âCan I see that?â I asked.Â
He handed it over. I plucked off the extra bits and yes, it was definitely meant to be a teddy bear, made by hand from the wool in the cargo hold. There were even little twists for eyes.
I looked up at them. âYou donât have a pest. You have a stowaway.â
They blustered and pooh-poohed the idea: nonsense, how could there possibly be an intelligent creature onboard without their knowledge?
âWeâve been in space a long time,â said the tall one. âOnly stopping at uninhabited locations for resources.â
âAnd at theââ put in the pink one, then stopped at a sharp look from his teammate.
I wasnât about to let that go. âThe what?â I asked.
The tall one sighed. âWe salvaged some fuel from a wreck,â she admitted. âBut there was no one on it. We checked. And with the tow ship we saw in the distance, it seemed likely enough that the owner had jetted away in a life preserver rather than sticking around. It was a single-person ship.â
Somebody else piped up from between the many crates in their cargo hold. âIt couldnât be a person! Thereâs nowhere big enough to hide!â
I held up the teddy bear. âThis is a childâs toy from my planet.â I looked up at the maze of pipes on the ceiling. âAnd my people like to climb.â
Zhee was being smug behind me while I made a quick circuit of the room, looking for likely spots. One corner was particularly dark, and it had a series of crates below the pipes, stacked into a perfect ramp. I flashed back to the time a litter of kittens had found a similar hidey-hole on my own ship. This spaceship was made by a different group of aliens altogether, but they never seemed to expect anyone to pay attention to nooks and crannies in the ceiling.
âHello?â I called, climbing onto the first crate with the wool bear in hand. âAnybody up there?â I continued in every language I knew greetings in, which included the galaxyâs favorite trade language (which I knew well), several minor trade languages (which I did not), and a smattering of languages from Earth (which I knew not at all), plus English. Despite my efforts, I didnât hear a thing until I got all the way to the top.
âJambo?â I tried, peering into the dark crevice. âUh, sprechen sie deutsch?â I held out the wool bear. âIs this yours?â
A quiet gasp echoed off the pipes, then two small arms reached out to grab the bear. With further coaxing, the girl clambered forward to where I could see her: dark skin, wide eyes, artfully braided hair, and clothes that looked fancy, if very dusty. Iâm not great at kid ages, but she was young. Old enough to push buttons on her parentsâ spaceship maybe, not old enough to steer.
I still didnât know what language she spoke, but it was hard to go wrong with body language. I held out my arms for a hug. âWant to go home?â
She sniffled and climbed forward into the embrace, clinging tight. That made it a bit of a challenge to get back down to floor level, but I managed. A crowd of Frillians and one smug Mesmer waited there.
âSee?â Zhee said to the tall Frillian. âExactly the animal expert you needed.â
I shook my head in amusement. âFor all the wrong reasons, youâre exactly right.â The girl didnât want to be put down, so I hoisted her onto one hip and stood carefully. âHow far away was that crash site? Can you send a message to the planet or station the tow ship came from?â
âYeah, weâre on it,â the tall Frillian said, her frills flattened in what might have been shame. She directed a couple of the others to do that, and also to gather the fuel theyâd scavenged.
Zhee cheered her up with talk of a probable finderâs fee. âHumans get very attached to their offspring,â he said. âThere is a strong chance this oneâs parents are already advertising a reward.â
While they talked money (and Zhee got our ship that promised fee for pest control), someone with sense arrived with a bottle of water and questions about what food would be suitable.
The girl drank the water eagerly, not letting go of her bear, and didnât answer any of my questions about food allergies. She accepted some protein cubes and chewed them with determination.
By then, a reply had already come from the nearest space station, and a ship was on the way. Full of authority figures and very anxious parents, by the sounds of it.
While the Frillians discussed that and the little kid quietly refused to be put down, Zhee held up his communicator so I could talk to Captain Sunlight back on our ship. Zhee had already explained the situation.
The captain asked me, âHow long do they expect until arrival?â
âI think they said about half an hour,â I said. âHopefully that wonât put us behind schedule.â
âNo, weâll be fine,â she said. âGiven that the young one is so taken with you, we might as well stay to make sure everything gets resolved. Does she need to visit the medical bay?â
âI donât think so. She hasnât said anything yet, but she doesnât look injured. Couldnât hurt to give her a once-over with the hand scanner just in case. Weâve got time.â I looked down at her thoughtfully, then had a bright idea. âAnd I bet sheâd love to meet Telly. After we check her for allergies, of course.â
The captain agreed that was a fine idea. Zhee took over the conversation while I asked the girl, in a mix of Earth languages and pantomime, if she wanted to see my cat.
Her eyes lit up and she started talking in a spill of words that I didnât catch in the slightest. Spanish, maybe French? Portuguese? Ah, it didnât matter. The language of kitty ears and âmeow meowâ is almost as universally recognized as hugs. We walked from one ship to another, and waited for her parents in the company of a medical scanner, human food, and a very friendly cat.
~~~
These are the ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book.
Shared early on Patreon! Thereâs even a free tier to get them on the same day as the rest of the world.
The sequel novel is in progress (and will include characters from these stories. I hadnât thought all of them up when I wrote the first book, but theyâre too much fun to leave out of the second).
âWhen space poachers release Earth animals on an alien world, threatening a fragile new alliance, they anger the wrong people. A veterinarian, an accountant, and a furious sign-language-fluent gorilla are coming for them.â
Robin enjoys being one of the only humans around: an exotic outsider, strange and tall, with no shell and only two arms. Consulting for locals who want to keep Earth pets is a fine job. But when a swarm of rabbits invade town and humanity is blamed, everything unravels.
If Robin wants to save the alliance between two planets â and keep from getting sent home in disgrace â she has to prove that a powerful crime ring is behind the crisis. Luckily for her, she makes friends who are eager to help: from planetside, from the nearby space station, and recently escaped from the poacherâs ship.
Those poachers may be bug aliens with an excellent range of vision, but they wonât see this coming.
~~~
Img ID: the cover of the sci-fi novel âA Swift Kick to the Thorax.â It features a veterinarianâs prescription pad floating in space, with the title written in the prescription area. A pen floats behind it and a chunk has been bitten out of the pad.
~~~
Available everywhere! With many short stories to go with it, here on the good olâ hellsite. And thereâs plenty more where those came from!
The dragon â astonishingly â was a surprise. Even in his worst nightmares there hadnât been a dragon. But the chains were too well fastened to fight and he supposed that getting eaten was at least quicker than starving to death on this damn mountain. He closed his eyes, but the thundering shake of the ground as the dragon landed was as bad as having seen the claws dig into the earth. He closed his eyes tighter.
âAre you the seventh son of the seventh son?â The voice was inhumanly low and it shook the fear in his bones loose.
âYes!â he screamed. âYes! Cursed, blighted, whatever you bloody want! Just get it over with.â
There was a short, tense silence.
âI have not come to kill you, human. I want to offer you a deal.â
His eyes opened in shock. âYou what?â
The dragon was sitting a few paces away from him, its scaly claws crossed over one another and its massive, shimmering wings folded behind its hulking back. The look in its glittering eyes was intelligent and calculating, but not unkind, certainly not threatening. It waited.
âWhatâwhat kind of deal?â he stammered, heart racing with a wild, terrified hope.
âI understand that you have been left here to die by your fellow humans, because you are an extremely rare type of human, that they are afraid of. Is that correct?â
He studied the dragonâs interested expression for any trace of sarcasm, but there was none. âThatâs one way of putting it.â
âWell then!â the dragon exclaimed. âI propose to you this: I will break your chains and save you from the humans, and in return you will join my hoard and live in my nest.â
âIâm sorry. Join yourâwhat do you mean live in a nest. Humans donât live in nests.â
The dragon gave a sideways movement of its massive head, scales glinting in the sun. âThere is plenty of room. It used to be a cavern in a mountain, of very respectable depth and dimensions, but during one of my hibernation some humans built a castle on top of it, so it is very suitable for humans.â
He was almost baffled enough to no longer be scared. Almost. âWhat happened to the people who built it?â
The dragon, somehow, managed to arch a nonexistent eyebrow. âThey live there,â it replied, slowly, as if it feared that he was rather slower on the uptake than expected. âThat was the start of my hoard, you see.â
He hadnât misheard it. It did say âhoardâ. âBut...dragons hoard gold, jewels, richesâŠâ
âUninspired amateurs,â the dragon sniffed. âAll very well for oneâs hatchling years, but honestly.â The glittering eyes squinted down at him. âDo you not want to join my hoard?â
âIâŠâ Living in a castle with a dragon for a protector sure beat being chained to a rock by feral townsfolk, there was no doubt about that. And what other choice did he have? He swallowed. âI do.â
âWonderful!â Joyful sparks snapped off the dragonâs jaw as it gracefully leapt upright. âI shall do away with those pesky chains.â And he came towards him with remarkably light steps.
âDo you live very far away?â he blurted out, nervously watching the dragon as it studied the iron rings hammered into the stone. âWill I be able toâI cannot just leave my brothers behind!â
The dragon, who had just crushed one end of the chain to warped bits of broken iron in its claw, looked up distractedly. âWhatever are you talking about? All your brothers are at my nest already. Who do you think told me where to find you?â
His heart leapt in his chest. He didnât even notice the heavy weight of the chains fall away as they slid to the ground. âYou...youâd want to keep my brothers too?â
The dragon made an indignant noise, bowing down low and motioning rather impatiently for him to climb on its back. âWhat kind of dragon do you take me for! I must have the whole set.â
Sometimes being an indie writer means you get to help out your writer friends by sharing useful knowledge, and they share other info back, and it's great.
Other times it means taking notes on everything that goes wrong in doing your own cover art and formatting, including an irritated paragraph that your future self will appreciate titled "Crap I've Learned Today."
I love it! Look at it! The bunny has a "let a sticky-handed toddler pick me up and suck on my ear like it's a dummy" and the hare is like... wild. Poised to run at moments notice, those huge watchful eyes... those eyes!
79k and 19 chapters of my next kakasaku project down, quite a bit of plot still in my head and notes. I think I'll start posting for Kakashi's birthday. Still not sure on a title. Oh well. Mine always suck anyway.
May I just say that 79k word fanfiction is absolutely MENTAL, since my dear all, it is, in fact, the size of an actual novel! Like a proper book one buys from your average store. Mental... Well done đ
