#gemlikegemstone

[miainanutshell-blog1]

1.12.17 in a nutshell warm head, warm heart, warm clothes (clean laundry) And Brendan takes his first music lesson ever! Thanks to the writing/editing genius @gemlikegemstone for my HAND-KNITTED COWL!!!

[silvershears]

2, 7, 35, 46

Dig a Little Deeper meme

Dying because I considered asking you each of these.

2. Would you prefer to live in the country or the city?

I’ve been in big cities, lived in suburbs of huge metropolitan areas, lived in tiny towns, been in super-rural places, and there’s a middle-ground between both extremes that I love. Right now, I live kind of middle-of-the-road sort of town. It’s big enough to have some things to do, small enough not to have the overwhelming traffic, and that’s probably good enough. Driving anxiety pretty severely limits where I could realistically live. In terms of the romanticism of a place, I’d love an apartment in a big city where I could walk or bike places but still see some mountains out my window.

7. If you could be a mythical creature, which would you choose?

The Fossegrimmen of Scandinavian folklore who sits beneath waterfalls with his violin playing the music of nature appeals a lot to me, although a Cat Sìth is also probably a good fit? Who knows! It’s a mystery.

35. If money was not a factor, how would you live your life?

I would never have a job. I tried to think of ways to qualify that: One that didn’t tie me to a desk, one that didn’t want me at specific times, one that didn’t depend on me being peppy every second of every moment, but honestly, if there were no limitations, I wouldn’t be at a job. Run the blog, sure, because I chose that, but not this job, not no how. I’d live in the same town as my sister in an apartment with a couple of cats, hopefully have some friends. I’d buy things from etsy and artist shops. I’d donate to more Patreons for artists. Most of all, I’d do things that make me happy: write, paint, crochet, play games, chat with people, go on photography trips. Lots and lots of things that aren’t considered worthy enough to make a living at. 

46. What is your favourite season? Why?

I really love fall, but a particular kind of fall. It’s a fall where I currently live doesn’t get because it’s so dry, but where I went to college had it. It’s a wet fall, drizzly and grey sometimes, but shining amber and crunching leaves at others. There’s fog in the morning that clings and makes everyone a mysterious figure in the gloom. The sky’s bright regardless of whether it’s raining or the sun’s shining. All the trees are gold and russet and brown crowding overhead, twirling gently down around. I even like it when the wind tosses all the leaves right off into my face. “Hello, there!” Crisp, spiciness that tastes like apples and cinnamon touches the air, and I get to dig out my excellent scarf collection. Honestly. It’s the scarves.

[ogericanepistelique]

gemlikegemstone a reblogué votre billet et a ajouté :

Yes!

Thanks dear !

[theticklishpear]

write-like-a-freak/gemlikegemstone has a birthday today! In celebration, I wanted to write something, but I am lame and never got a chance, so instead I offer an excerpt from the first book in the Moonwater Series. I hope it's acceptable!

(this section takes place in the hours after the city has been invaded by a neighboring country, the Merdan. the main character, Sheytana, tried to stir up resistance in the poorer, working-class side of the city she'd grown up in. unfortunately, the Merdan decimated anything looking vaguely like resistance. the rest of the city, the more genteel side, did not fight the occupation and were left mostly untouched. Sheytana feels responsible for the complete annihilation of the people she'd loved, and resentful toward the rest of the city for not helping--if only they'd had more help, maybe they could have repelled the Merdan. Keetan is a fellow member of the Thieves Guild and a friend. Cyrian Greystoke, Baron Sinister of Thieves, is their boss and is out of the country.)

She fled.

The rooftops were precarious, slick with soot and ash under her old shoes. Now pockmarked with scorch marks and cave-ins, the roofs were still her fastest route to the farthest corner of the city. She hunched on the peak of the old disreputable and mostly deserted warehouse roof. The afternoon light had left sometime during the siege. She hadn't noticed the dusky twilight--gold, purple, and teal--until she'd gotten herself up above the street level. From up there, she could almost pretend that nothing existed below the roofs.

Keetan crept from the shadowed warehouse doorway. "Did I hear the pitter-patter of familiar feet or are you just a bird?"

"Shut up, Keetan," she growled, clutching her knees tight to her chest.

"Tut, tut, is that any way to speak to a friend? And we all need friends at a time like this," he said, standing in the forgotten street below her with his head tilted slightly to one side. She wondered how long he'd been there.

"What are you doing here, Keetan? Shouldn't you be off robbing the dead? I thought that was more your style." Her voice caught. "Plenty down in the dark district if you want them."

"I don't," he replied flatly. "I only like the ones without flesh still on their bones."

"Why are you here? There are apparently two options in this city: either you're dead or you're in the Chapel. Why are you still here?" she snarled, snapping her face toward him.

He was bloody, covered in soot and grime even into the roots of his hair. It looked as though he'd taken a bath in the stuff or hidden from the Merdan in some rubbish heap. "Why don't you come down here and take a look for yourself. I've seen just how busy you've been, now come see what I've done." Without a glance to see if she followed, the doorway swallowed Keetan whole.

Sliding from the roof less gracefully than she had done earlier in the day, Sheytana paused to let her eyes adjust to the darkness inside the warehouse. Sniffs of snotty noses, heavy breathing, and choked sobs serenaded her. Children huddled in clumps around the floor, Keetan standing in the midst of them all with his arms spread wide.

"What's all this?" she asked. "Are you running a day care?"

"Maybe," he said, chuckling.

"I thought you hated kids."

"Not as much as everyone appears to think," he grimaced. "And certainly a lot less than Scaedin. Couldn't catch him within a stone's throw of snotty brats like these. I'd sooner throw a kitten his way than put him in a room with some of these. The city's finest," he said with a grin, "or at least they are now."

"These are the kids of the dark district?" she asked, looking around at them all, dim and blinking through light distillation equipment and cloth-covered piles of materials.

"Plague of the city, they are. Or will be once we give them enough time to get their feet back underneath them. Ranging from our age all the way down. Kaylee, here," he knelt and patted a scrawny girl with greasy hair who was silently watching an older boy cry. "She's our youngest at the most corruptible age of five."

"You've been saving children?" she asked, slightly aghast.

He looked hurt at her astonishment. "Aw, come now, don't think so poorly of me. I've always wanted kids."

"I think you went a little overboard, Keetan," she said, laughing.

The other thief shrugged. "It'll be my pet project. It'll be like school for the Thieves Guild. Get them prepped for the real fun."

"So you can pass on your favorites to Cyrian? He'll be thrilled."

"It'll be like how he's always done it: choose from the best of the snipe-rats like you and me, only now he'll have a wider selection."

"You make it sound so benevolent—like you're helping them."

"I am," he said, walking right up to her so they stood nearly nose tip to nose tip. "If I don't teach them how to snip pocket strings, they'll starve or end up swinging from the gallows. Or who knows whatever else under the Merdan, now."

"Or there's the other alternative. We could hand them over to the Chapel. They'd turn them all into priests or something—two or three for each of the Twenty Four."

"Aw," Keetan scowled, "now see, where's the fun in that? These kids are made for more than singing around a statue and lighting incense. They're money smart—perfect for our work. There's plenty in the Guild who would kick the teeth out of a river deeprun lizard for that kind of smarts to come natural."

She sighed, her fingers finding their way through her matted hair. She wondered if The Sleeping Stallion still stood. Surely Rada would have weighed the options and kept her hands away from the blades under her counter. "Well, on your own head be it, then," she said. "If Cyrian comes back, takes issue with using his Bottling warehouse, and says to let them loose, you'd better do it. They deserve a shot at a decent life."