#historicalfantasy — Public Fediverse posts
Live and recent posts from across the Fediverse tagged #historicalfantasy, aggregated by home.social.
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#TimeTravelingGhost EP 12: Post 124, 1,802,701 CE, Middlesex, UK
#Wss366 Visit #TimeTravelAuthors 08/15. Saturday excerpt (optional word: match/same)
As rapidly as the image of my mother arose, it disappeared. I guess my appendix scar had come in useful. I had a name again, as well as the hope that I would remember more.
As I rubbed the sphinx’s plaque, I thought about the vision, trying to use it as an entry point into my lost memories. It proved useless. All I came up with was that my mother visited me when I had my appendix removed and a warm feeling for ma mère.
Eventually, I gave up and refocused on the bronze plate. Corrosion blurred the image, but I still made out a naked man with winged shoes and helmet: Hermes. Below, in Latin, it read, “In memory of Prince Henry XI of Greater Albion.”
I stopped and stared. I didn’t know Latin! Yet I read it easily. And the figure… Hermes… Mercury… It #matched a mural I’d seen in a dim tunnel. Right, I’d been in a passage along with my companion Emily. She wasn’t an illusion.
“I had a dream!” I exclaimed out loud.
I desperately reached to recall it. There’d been a pink Eye of Providence and blue dragonflies. Rabbits with guns and swastikas. If I thought fairies unrealistic, then what about these Hieronymus Bosch images?
As hard as I tried, I couldn’t remember.4 more I threw down the rag. I wouldn’t find anything more here.
#TootFic #NMFic #TimeTravel #HistoricalFantasy #UrbanFantasy #Mythpunk #Serial #Sapphic #Slowburn
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#TimeTravelingGhost EP 12: Post 124, 1,802,701 CE, Middlesex, UK
#Wss366 Visit #TimeTravelAuthors 08/15. Saturday excerpt (optional word: match/same)
As rapidly as the image of my mother arose, it disappeared. I guess my appendix scar had come in useful. I had a name again, as well as the hope that I would remember more.
As I rubbed the sphinx’s plaque, I thought about the vision, trying to use it as an entry point into my lost memories. It proved useless. All I came up with was that my mother visited me when I had my appendix removed and a warm feeling for ma mère.
Eventually, I gave up and refocused on the bronze plate. Corrosion blurred the image, but I still made out a naked man with winged shoes and helmet: Hermes. Below, in Latin, it read, “In memory of Prince Henry XI of Greater Albion.”
I stopped and stared. I didn’t know Latin! Yet I read it easily. And the figure… Hermes… Mercury… It #matched a mural I’d seen in a dim tunnel. Right, I’d been in a passage along with my companion Emily. She wasn’t an illusion.
“I had a dream!” I exclaimed out loud.
I desperately reached to recall it. There’d been a pink Eye of Providence and blue dragonflies. Rabbits with guns and swastikas. If I thought fairies unrealistic, then what about these Hieronymus Bosch images?
As hard as I tried, I couldn’t remember.4 more I threw down the rag. I wouldn’t find anything more here.
#TootFic #NMFic #TimeTravel #HistoricalFantasy #UrbanFantasy #Mythpunk #Serial #Sapphic #Slowburn
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#TimeTravelingGhost EP 12: Post 124, 1,802,701 CE, Middlesex, UK
#Wss366 Visit #TimeTravelAuthors 08/15. Saturday excerpt (optional word: match/same)
As rapidly as the image of my mother arose, it disappeared. I guess my appendix scar had come in useful. I had a name again, as well as the hope that I would remember more.
As I rubbed the sphinx’s plaque, I thought about the vision, trying to use it as an entry point into my lost memories. It proved useless. All I came up with was that my mother visited me when I had my appendix removed and a warm feeling for ma mère.
Eventually, I gave up and refocused on the bronze plate. Corrosion blurred the image, but I still made out a naked man with winged shoes and helmet: Hermes. Below, in Latin, it read, “In memory of Prince Henry XI of Greater Albion.”
I stopped and stared. I didn’t know Latin! Yet I read it easily. And the figure… Hermes… Mercury… It #matched a mural I’d seen in a dim tunnel. Right, I’d been in a passage along with my companion Emily. She wasn’t an illusion.
“I had a dream!” I exclaimed out loud.
I desperately reached to recall it. There’d been a pink Eye of Providence and blue dragonflies. Rabbits with guns and swastikas. If I thought fairies unrealistic, then what about these Hieronymus Bosch images?
As hard as I tried, I couldn’t remember.4 more I threw down the rag. I wouldn’t find anything more here.
#TootFic #NMFic #TimeTravel #HistoricalFantasy #UrbanFantasy #Mythpunk #Serial #Sapphic #Slowburn
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#TimeTravelingGhost EP 12: Post 124, 1,802,701 CE, Middlesex, UK
#Wss366 Visit #TimeTravelAuthors 08/15. Saturday excerpt (optional word: match/same)
As rapidly as the image of my mother arose, it disappeared. I guess my appendix scar had come in useful. I had a name again, as well as the hope that I would remember more.
As I rubbed the sphinx’s plaque, I thought about the vision, trying to use it as an entry point into my lost memories. It proved useless. All I came up with was that my mother visited me when I had my appendix removed and a warm feeling for ma mère.
Eventually, I gave up and refocused on the bronze plate. Corrosion blurred the image, but I still made out a naked man with winged shoes and helmet: Hermes. Below, in Latin, it read, “In memory of Prince Henry XI of Greater Albion.”
I stopped and stared. I didn’t know Latin! Yet I read it easily. And the figure… Hermes… Mercury… It #matched a mural I’d seen in a dim tunnel. Right, I’d been in a passage along with my companion Emily. She wasn’t an illusion.
“I had a dream!” I exclaimed out loud.
I desperately reached to recall it. There’d been a pink Eye of Providence and blue dragonflies. Rabbits with guns and swastikas. If I thought fairies unrealistic, then what about these Hieronymus Bosch images?
As hard as I tried, I couldn’t remember.4 more I threw down the rag. I wouldn’t find anything more here.
#TootFic #NMFic #TimeTravel #HistoricalFantasy #UrbanFantasy #Mythpunk #Serial #Sapphic #Slowburn
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#TimeTravelingGhost EP 12: Post 124, 1,802,701 CE, Middlesex, UK
#Wss366 Visit #TimeTravelAuthors 08/15. Saturday excerpt (optional word: match/same)
As rapidly as the image of my mother arose, it disappeared. I guess my appendix scar had come in useful. I had a name again, as well as the hope that I would remember more.
As I rubbed the sphinx’s plaque, I thought about the vision, trying to use it as an entry point into my lost memories. It proved useless. All I came up with was that my mother visited me when I had my appendix removed and a warm feeling for ma mère.
Eventually, I gave up and refocused on the bronze plate. Corrosion blurred the image, but I still made out a naked man with winged shoes and helmet: Hermes. Below, in Latin, it read, “In memory of Prince Henry XI of Greater Albion.”
I stopped and stared. I didn’t know Latin! Yet I read it easily. And the figure… Hermes… Mercury… It #matched a mural I’d seen in a dim tunnel. Right, I’d been in a passage along with my companion Emily. She wasn’t an illusion.
“I had a dream!” I exclaimed out loud.
I desperately reached to recall it. There’d been a pink Eye of Providence and blue dragonflies. Rabbits with guns and swastikas. If I thought fairies unrealistic, then what about these Hieronymus Bosch images?
As hard as I tried, I couldn’t remember.4 more I threw down the rag. I wouldn’t find anything more here.
#TootFic #NMFic #TimeTravel #HistoricalFantasy #UrbanFantasy #Mythpunk #Serial #Sapphic #Slowburn
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#TimeTravelingGhost EP 9.1: 2024 Arkam Mass. (Side Story)
#Wss366 Dominant / International Left Hander's Day/Bon JP #TimeTravelAuthors 08/13. Advice your character would give about time travel
Professor Henrietta Dubois looked out over her class. Not one student looked like they were worth her time. Some were there because they thought it was a joke. It wasn’t. Others were there for an easy grade. They were going to be disappointed. A few may have thought it was a literature course. They would be let down as well. And some were just flakes. None of them would make a promising metaphysics student.
“Time-travel,” the professor started. After all, it was the subject of the class. “How many of you would visit another time if you could?”
Half the students raised their hands.
Ms. Dubois nodded. "According to 'Faustus Pact,' 'Pompilius Spiegel,' and the anonymous 'La Main Tauche du Temps,' at least one of which will be required reading, the #dominant belief among time-travelers is that those of you with your hands down are the wise ones."
The professor paused, letting those who could decipher what she had said ruminate on the arcane names and reading requirements. “Let’s make sure they know this is no joke but a serious and rigorous class,” she thought.
She continued: “In other words, don’t.”
Note: “La Main Tauche du Temps” means “Time’s Left Hand.”
#TootFic #NMFic #TimeTravel #HistoricalFantasy #UrbanFantasy #Serial
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#TimeTravelingGhost EP 9.1: 2024 Arkam Mass. (Side Story)
#Wss366 Dominant / International Left Hander's Day/Bon JP #TimeTravelAuthors 08/13. Advice your character would give about time travel
Professor Henrietta Dubois looked out over her class. Not one student looked like they were worth her time. Some were there because they thought it was a joke. It wasn’t. Others were there for an easy grade. They were going to be disappointed. A few may have thought it was a literature course. They would be let down as well. And some were just flakes. None of them would make a promising metaphysics student.
“Time-travel,” the professor started. After all, it was the subject of the class. “How many of you would visit another time if you could?”
Half the students raised their hands.
Ms. Dubois nodded. "According to 'Faustus Pact,' 'Pompilius Spiegel,' and the anonymous 'La Main Tauche du Temps,' at least one of which will be required reading, the #dominant belief among time-travelers is that those of you with your hands down are the wise ones."
The professor paused, letting those who could decipher what she had said ruminate on the arcane names and reading requirements. “Let’s make sure they know this is no joke but a serious and rigorous class,” she thought.
She continued: “In other words, don’t.”
Note: “La Main Tauche du Temps” means “Time’s Left Hand.”
#TootFic #NMFic #TimeTravel #HistoricalFantasy #UrbanFantasy #Serial
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#TimeTravelingGhost EP 9.1: 2024 Arkam Mass. (Side Story)
#Wss366 Dominant / International Left Hander's Day/Bon JP #TimeTravelAuthors 08/13. Advice your character would give about time travel
Professor Henrietta Dubois looked out over her class. Not one student looked like they were worth her time. Some were there because they thought it was a joke. It wasn’t. Others were there for an easy grade. They were going to be disappointed. A few may have thought it was a literature course. They would be let down as well. And some were just flakes. None of them would make a promising metaphysics student.
“Time-travel,” the professor started. After all, it was the subject of the class. “How many of you would visit another time if you could?”
Half the students raised their hands.
Ms. Dubois nodded. "According to 'Faustus Pact,' 'Pompilius Spiegel,' and the anonymous 'La Main Tauche du Temps,' at least one of which will be required reading, the #dominant belief among time-travelers is that those of you with your hands down are the wise ones."
The professor paused, letting those who could decipher what she had said ruminate on the arcane names and reading requirements. “Let’s make sure they know this is no joke but a serious and rigorous class,” she thought.
She continued: “In other words, don’t.”
Note: “La Main Tauche du Temps” means “Time’s Left Hand.”
#TootFic #NMFic #TimeTravel #HistoricalFantasy #UrbanFantasy #Serial
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#TimeTravelingGhost EP 9.1: 2024 Arkam Mass. (Side Story)
#Wss366 Dominant / International Left Hander's Day/Bon JP #TimeTravelAuthors 08/13. Advice your character would give about time travel
Professor Henrietta Dubois looked out over her class. Not one student looked like they were worth her time. Some were there because they thought it was a joke. It wasn’t. Others were there for an easy grade. They were going to be disappointed. A few may have thought it was a literature course. They would be let down as well. And some were just flakes. None of them would make a promising metaphysics student.
“Time-travel,” the professor started. After all, it was the subject of the class. “How many of you would visit another time if you could?”
Half the students raised their hands.
Ms. Dubois nodded. "According to 'Faustus Pact,' 'Pompilius Spiegel,' and the anonymous 'La Main Tauche du Temps,' at least one of which will be required reading, the #dominant belief among time-travelers is that those of you with your hands down are the wise ones."
The professor paused, letting those who could decipher what she had said ruminate on the arcane names and reading requirements. “Let’s make sure they know this is no joke but a serious and rigorous class,” she thought.
She continued: “In other words, don’t.”
Note: “La Main Tauche du Temps” means “Time’s Left Hand.”
#TootFic #NMFic #TimeTravel #HistoricalFantasy #UrbanFantasy #Serial
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#TimeTravelingGhost EP 9.1: 2024 Arkam Mass. (Side Story)
#Wss366 Dominant / International Left Hander's Day/Bon JP #TimeTravelAuthors 08/13. Advice your character would give about time travel
Professor Henrietta Dubois looked out over her class. Not one student looked like they were worth her time. Some were there because they thought it was a joke. It wasn’t. Others were there for an easy grade. They were going to be disappointed. A few may have thought it was a literature course. They would be let down as well. And some were just flakes. None of them would make a promising metaphysics student.
“Time-travel,” the professor started. After all, it was the subject of the class. “How many of you would visit another time if you could?”
Half the students raised their hands.
Ms. Dubois nodded. "According to 'Faustus Pact,' 'Pompilius Spiegel,' and the anonymous 'La Main Tauche du Temps,' at least one of which will be required reading, the #dominant belief among time-travelers is that those of you with your hands down are the wise ones."
The professor paused, letting those who could decipher what she had said ruminate on the arcane names and reading requirements. “Let’s make sure they know this is no joke but a serious and rigorous class,” she thought.
She continued: “In other words, don’t.”
Note: “La Main Tauche du Temps” means “Time’s Left Hand.”
#TootFic #NMFic #TimeTravel #HistoricalFantasy #UrbanFantasy #Serial
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Bijou the #TimeTravelingGhost (2nd Edition)
Chapter 17 EP 5: Late #Jurassic Era, Swiss Lowlands
Back to the age of #dinosaurs.
Tags: #TimeTravel #Fantasy #UrbanFantasy #HistoricalFantasy #LightNovel #Romance #Queer #Sappfic #Serial
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Bijou the #TimeTravelingGhost (2nd Edition)
Chapter 17 EP 5: Late #Jurassic Era, Swiss Lowlands
Back to the age of #dinosaurs.
Tags: #TimeTravel #Fantasy #UrbanFantasy #HistoricalFantasy #LightNovel #Romance #Queer #Sappfic #Serial
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Bijou the #TimeTravelingGhost (2nd Edition)
Chapter 17 EP 5: Late #Jurassic Era, Swiss Lowlands
Back to the age of #dinosaurs.
Tags: #TimeTravel #Fantasy #UrbanFantasy #HistoricalFantasy #LightNovel #Romance #Queer #Sappfic #Serial
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Bijou the #TimeTravelingGhost (2nd Edition)
Chapter 17 EP 5: Late #Jurassic Era, Swiss Lowlands
Back to the age of #dinosaurs.
Tags: #TimeTravel #Fantasy #UrbanFantasy #HistoricalFantasy #LightNovel #Romance #Queer #Sappfic #Serial
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Bijou the #TimeTravelingGhost (2nd Edition)
Chapter 17 EP 5: Late #Jurassic Era, Swiss Lowlands
Back to the age of #dinosaurs.
Tags: #TimeTravel #Fantasy #UrbanFantasy #HistoricalFantasy #LightNovel #Romance #Queer #Sappfic #Serial
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Are you in Wyoming? Do you want to read my book for free? I’m in the Wyoming Virtual Library! https://virtuallibrary.overdrive.com/virtuallibrary-80-234/content/media/11081870
#bookstodon #vampirebooks #historicalfantasy #urbanfantasy @[email protected] @[email protected] @bookstodon
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Are you in Wyoming? Do you want to read my book for free? I’m in the Wyoming Virtual Library! https://virtuallibrary.overdrive.com/virtuallibrary-80-234/content/media/11081870
#bookstodon #vampirebooks #historicalfantasy #urbanfantasy @[email protected] @[email protected] @bookstodon
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Are you in Wyoming? Do you want to read my book for free? I’m in the Wyoming Virtual Library! https://virtuallibrary.overdrive.com/virtuallibrary-80-234/content/media/11081870
#bookstodon #vampirebooks #historicalfantasy #urbanfantasy @[email protected] @[email protected] @bookstodon
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Are you in Wyoming? Do you want to read my book for free? I’m in the Wyoming Virtual Library! https://virtuallibrary.overdrive.com/virtuallibrary-80-234/content/media/11081870
#bookstodon #vampirebooks #historicalfantasy #urbanfantasy @[email protected] @[email protected] @bookstodon
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Are you in Wyoming? Do you want to read my book for free? I’m in the Wyoming Virtual Library! https://virtuallibrary.overdrive.com/virtuallibrary-80-234/content/media/11081870
#bookstodon #vampirebooks #historicalfantasy #urbanfantasy @[email protected] @[email protected] @bookstodon
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Stegosaurus Ice cream
A #TimeTravelingGhost Side Story
#Wss366 Chief #TimeTravelAuthors 08/7. If your work was an ice cream flavor, what would it be?**Ahead of us, the Jurassic jungle thinned, and the land sloped up. The trees were more widely spaced, but they still obscured my view of the cliffs we were heading towards.
I was grateful to be walking on fallen leaves rather than slogging through the mud. The ferns were still thick in patches, but I threaded my way through them with minimal effort. However, the #chief hazard remained: the native behemoths.
The stagnant air of the swamp was replaced by a gentle breeze blowing through the trees, and my thoughts strayed.
“Ice cream would have been a delightful addition. Hmm, what flavor would my recent adventures be?” I wondered, my fancies taking full flight.
“Something tropical: Mango or peach. Yes, mango would be pleasant. I’d enjoy that. Champagne cocktail flavor would be more appropriate, but do they even make that flavor? Okay, no cheating. How about horehound? That had a nice, old-fashioned sound. I guess that would be cheating too. Sarsaparilla then. That was an old-timey name for root beer, or at least I think.”
I should have paid more attention, as I received a nasty shock when a stegosaurus burst from behind a grove of trees where it had been hidden.
Fortunately, it wasn’t a carnivore. The only damage I sustained was a near-heart attack as the immense beast lumbered past. It was almost comical, with its plates rattling and its tail striking trees as it thudded past. There was a chipped plate midway down its back. It was only funny because I was far enough away that the tail posed no threat.
A minute later, Emily landed and apologised for not spotting it.
She looked nonplussed when I asked her, “Do you think a stegosaurus would like sarsaparilla ice cream?”
#TootFic #NMFic #TimeTravel #HistoricalFantasy #UrbanFantasy #Mythpunk #Serial #Slowburn #Dinosaurs #Humor
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Stegosaurus Ice cream
A #TimeTravelingGhost Side Story
#Wss366 Chief #TimeTravelAuthors 08/7. If your work was an ice cream flavor, what would it be?**Ahead of us, the Jurassic jungle thinned, and the land sloped up. The trees were more widely spaced, but they still obscured my view of the cliffs we were heading towards.
I was grateful to be walking on fallen leaves rather than slogging through the mud. The ferns were still thick in patches, but I threaded my way through them with minimal effort. However, the #chief hazard remained: the native behemoths.
The stagnant air of the swamp was replaced by a gentle breeze blowing through the trees, and my thoughts strayed.
“Ice cream would have been a delightful addition. Hmm, what flavor would my recent adventures be?” I wondered, my fancies taking full flight.
“Something tropical: Mango or peach. Yes, mango would be pleasant. I’d enjoy that. Champagne cocktail flavor would be more appropriate, but do they even make that flavor? Okay, no cheating. How about horehound? That had a nice, old-fashioned sound. I guess that would be cheating too. Sarsaparilla then. That was an old-timey name for root beer, or at least I think.”
I should have paid more attention, as I received a nasty shock when a stegosaurus burst from behind a grove of trees where it had been hidden.
Fortunately, it wasn’t a carnivore. The only damage I sustained was a near-heart attack as the immense beast lumbered past. It was almost comical, with its plates rattling and its tail striking trees as it thudded past. There was a chipped plate midway down its back. It was only funny because I was far enough away that the tail posed no threat.
A minute later, Emily landed and apologised for not spotting it.
She looked nonplussed when I asked her, “Do you think a stegosaurus would like sarsaparilla ice cream?”
#TootFic #NMFic #TimeTravel #HistoricalFantasy #UrbanFantasy #Mythpunk #Serial #Slowburn #Dinosaurs #Humor
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Stegosaurus Ice cream
A #TimeTravelingGhost Side Story
#Wss366 Chief #TimeTravelAuthors 08/7. If your work was an ice cream flavor, what would it be?**Ahead of us, the Jurassic jungle thinned, and the land sloped up. The trees were more widely spaced, but they still obscured my view of the cliffs we were heading towards.
I was grateful to be walking on fallen leaves rather than slogging through the mud. The ferns were still thick in patches, but I threaded my way through them with minimal effort. However, the #chief hazard remained: the native behemoths.
The stagnant air of the swamp was replaced by a gentle breeze blowing through the trees, and my thoughts strayed.
“Ice cream would have been a delightful addition. Hmm, what flavor would my recent adventures be?” I wondered, my fancies taking full flight.
“Something tropical: Mango or peach. Yes, mango would be pleasant. I’d enjoy that. Champagne cocktail flavor would be more appropriate, but do they even make that flavor? Okay, no cheating. How about horehound? That had a nice, old-fashioned sound. I guess that would be cheating too. Sarsaparilla then. That was an old-timey name for root beer, or at least I think.”
I should have paid more attention, as I received a nasty shock when a stegosaurus burst from behind a grove of trees where it had been hidden.
Fortunately, it wasn’t a carnivore. The only damage I sustained was a near-heart attack as the immense beast lumbered past. It was almost comical, with its plates rattling and its tail striking trees as it thudded past. There was a chipped plate midway down its back. It was only funny because I was far enough away that the tail posed no threat.
A minute later, Emily landed and apologised for not spotting it.
She looked nonplussed when I asked her, “Do you think a stegosaurus would like sarsaparilla ice cream?”
#TootFic #NMFic #TimeTravel #HistoricalFantasy #UrbanFantasy #Mythpunk #Serial #Slowburn #Dinosaurs #Humor
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Stegosaurus Ice cream
A #TimeTravelingGhost Side Story
#Wss366 Chief #TimeTravelAuthors 08/7. If your work was an ice cream flavor, what would it be?**Ahead of us, the Jurassic jungle thinned, and the land sloped up. The trees were more widely spaced, but they still obscured my view of the cliffs we were heading towards.
I was grateful to be walking on fallen leaves rather than slogging through the mud. The ferns were still thick in patches, but I threaded my way through them with minimal effort. However, the #chief hazard remained: the native behemoths.
The stagnant air of the swamp was replaced by a gentle breeze blowing through the trees, and my thoughts strayed.
“Ice cream would have been a delightful addition. Hmm, what flavor would my recent adventures be?” I wondered, my fancies taking full flight.
“Something tropical: Mango or peach. Yes, mango would be pleasant. I’d enjoy that. Champagne cocktail flavor would be more appropriate, but do they even make that flavor? Okay, no cheating. How about horehound? That had a nice, old-fashioned sound. I guess that would be cheating too. Sarsaparilla then. That was an old-timey name for root beer, or at least I think.”
I should have paid more attention, as I received a nasty shock when a stegosaurus burst from behind a grove of trees where it had been hidden.
Fortunately, it wasn’t a carnivore. The only damage I sustained was a near-heart attack as the immense beast lumbered past. It was almost comical, with its plates rattling and its tail striking trees as it thudded past. There was a chipped plate midway down its back. It was only funny because I was far enough away that the tail posed no threat.
A minute later, Emily landed and apologised for not spotting it.
She looked nonplussed when I asked her, “Do you think a stegosaurus would like sarsaparilla ice cream?”
#TootFic #NMFic #TimeTravel #HistoricalFantasy #UrbanFantasy #Mythpunk #Serial #Slowburn #Dinosaurs #Humor
-
Stegosaurus Ice cream
A #TimeTravelingGhost Side Story
#Wss366 Chief #TimeTravelAuthors 08/7. If your work was an ice cream flavor, what would it be?**Ahead of us, the Jurassic jungle thinned, and the land sloped up. The trees were more widely spaced, but they still obscured my view of the cliffs we were heading towards.
I was grateful to be walking on fallen leaves rather than slogging through the mud. The ferns were still thick in patches, but I threaded my way through them with minimal effort. However, the #chief hazard remained: the native behemoths.
The stagnant air of the swamp was replaced by a gentle breeze blowing through the trees, and my thoughts strayed.
“Ice cream would have been a delightful addition. Hmm, what flavor would my recent adventures be?” I wondered, my fancies taking full flight.
“Something tropical: Mango or peach. Yes, mango would be pleasant. I’d enjoy that. Champagne cocktail flavor would be more appropriate, but do they even make that flavor? Okay, no cheating. How about horehound? That had a nice, old-fashioned sound. I guess that would be cheating too. Sarsaparilla then. That was an old-timey name for root beer, or at least I think.”
I should have paid more attention, as I received a nasty shock when a stegosaurus burst from behind a grove of trees where it had been hidden.
Fortunately, it wasn’t a carnivore. The only damage I sustained was a near-heart attack as the immense beast lumbered past. It was almost comical, with its plates rattling and its tail striking trees as it thudded past. There was a chipped plate midway down its back. It was only funny because I was far enough away that the tail posed no threat.
A minute later, Emily landed and apologised for not spotting it.
She looked nonplussed when I asked her, “Do you think a stegosaurus would like sarsaparilla ice cream?”
#TootFic #NMFic #TimeTravel #HistoricalFantasy #UrbanFantasy #Mythpunk #Serial #Slowburn #Dinosaurs #Humor
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The Throne of Deep Roots: Book 2 of The Command of the Worldhold Series
The Throne of Deep Roots, the second book in Morven T. H. Borthwick’s The Command of the Worldhold series, is a sweeping work of dark epic fantasy built around ancient powers, political betrayal, war, and the consequences of choices made under pressure. The story begins in the shadow of a supernatural disaster, when the Black Sea rose as though answering an unseen will. From there, the novel follows several connected conflicts involving Eron, Belor, Seth, Elia, and the rulers of Dovaryel and Yorthmere. At the center of everything is The Command, a tiny stone with the power to make the sea obey, whose awakening attracts forces far older and more dangerous than the people carrying it fully understand.
One of the book’s strongest qualities is the depth of its world. Dovaryel, Dravarûyn, the Kor lands, and the southern mountains each have their own histories, customs, political tensions, and supernatural traditions. Borthwick doesn’t treat the setting as decoration. The world’s old wars and buried grudges actively shape what the characters believe and how they respond to one another. Titles such as Boundhand, Rootmaker, Vowblade, and Orathë also carry real social and spiritual weight. This gives the story the feeling of a history that began long before the first page. The formal, almost legendary prose suits that approach, especially in scenes involving prophecy, ritual, and ancient beings.
The characters are most compelling when they’re forced to decide what responsibility means. Belor’s Binding Art makes him powerful, but his real strength comes from his understanding that guilt can extend beyond the person who performs an act. His warning that “The blood of the fallen does not name the hand alone, but the will that sent it” captures one of the novel’s central concerns. Commands, bargains, and political decisions leave marks on everyone involved. Seth’s escape from execution, her discovery that she’s carrying Sathor’s son, and her refusal to return to the people who condemned her give her storyline a sharp emotional edge. Elia’s struggle to lead while dealing with fear, pride, and the limits of her gift makes her feel human even when the events around her reach a mythic scale.
The novel’s pacing is deliberate and immersive. Conversations, councils, journeys, and preparations for war receive nearly as much attention as battles, allowing tension to build gradually across the book. When violence arrives, particularly around the Field of Dravarûyn, it feels like the result of decisions that have been accumulating for hundreds of pages. The large cast and extensive terminology ask the reader to pay close attention, but the appendix provides useful support for navigating the Worldhold. The descriptions are often rich and solemn, creating an atmosphere in which forests, rain, stone chambers, and mountain caves seem to remember the events that happened within them.
By the end, The Throne of Deep Roots has expanded from a struggle among rulers into a confrontation with powers that reach back into the foundations of the world. Eron’s bond with The Command, the pursuit of the Thavurwyns, and the revelations beside the Deep Mirror all point toward a threat larger than the characters first imagined. Belor’s observation that “The ancient powers, once awakened, are not easily returned to sleep” works as both a warning and a summary of the book’s direction. This is a substantial, lore-heavy fantasy novel for readers who enjoy layered histories, morally complicated alliances, supernatural dread, and stories in which every victory creates a new burden. Its ending closes the immediate journey while leaving a chilling question hanging over the series: whether Vaelthar’s prison is beginning to fail.
Pages: 402 | ASIN: B0H45RJZR7
#author #book #bookRecommendations #bookReview #bookReviews #bookShelf #bookblogger #books #booksToRead #ebook #epicFantasy #fantasy #fiction #goodreads #historicalFantasy #indieAuthor #kindle #kobo #literature #MorvenTHBorthwick #nook #novel #read #reader #reading #story #TheThroneOfDeepRoots #writer #writing -
Bijou the #TimeTravelingGhost (2nd Edition)
Chapter 15: EP 4: 1937, Gardner Island, Midnight
Bijou and Emily find Amelia Earhart.
Tags: #TimeTravel #Fantasy #UrbanFantasy #HistoricalFantasy #LightNovel #Romance #Queer #Sappfic #Serial #AmeliaEarhart
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Bijou the #TimeTravelingGhost (2nd Edition)
Chapter 15: EP 4: 1937, Gardner Island, Midnight
Bijou and Emily find Amelia Earhart.
Tags: #TimeTravel #Fantasy #UrbanFantasy #HistoricalFantasy #LightNovel #Romance #Queer #Sappfic #Serial #AmeliaEarhart
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Bijou the #TimeTravelingGhost (2nd Edition)
Chapter 15: EP 4: 1937, Gardner Island, Midnight
Bijou and Emily find Amelia Earhart.
Tags: #TimeTravel #Fantasy #UrbanFantasy #HistoricalFantasy #LightNovel #Romance #Queer #Sappfic #Serial #AmeliaEarhart
-
Bijou the #TimeTravelingGhost (2nd Edition)
Chapter 15: EP 4: 1937, Gardner Island, Midnight
Bijou and Emily find Amelia Earhart.
Tags: #TimeTravel #Fantasy #UrbanFantasy #HistoricalFantasy #LightNovel #Romance #Queer #Sappfic #Serial #AmeliaEarhart
-
Bijou the #TimeTravelingGhost (2nd Edition)
Chapter 15: EP 4: 1937, Gardner Island, Midnight
Bijou and Emily find Amelia Earhart.
Tags: #TimeTravel #Fantasy #UrbanFantasy #HistoricalFantasy #LightNovel #Romance #Queer #Sappfic #Serial #AmeliaEarhart
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#TimeTravelingGhostV2 EP 12: Post 123, 1,802,701 CE, Middlesex, UK
#Wss366 Puzzle #TimeTravelAuthors 08/3. Where does your main character live/where are they from?
As the images from my dream faded, I began to panic. The earlier questions haunted me: “Who was I? Where was I? Where had I come from?”
I had the strange conviction that I wasn’t from this time or place. That knowledge had been lost somewhere in the mists of time. What an odd way of putting it. Surely I meant lost in the void of my memory?
No, I meant the former: “Lost in time.”
I shook my head and struggled to my feet. I wouldn’t find any answers lying there. It was of the utmost importance that I learn more.
There it was again: that feeling of almost knowing. I knew the fate of the world depended on my piercing this veil of ignorance. That conviction burned in my mind.
I took stock of my surroundings: the Sphinx, crop circle, path into the forest, tiny wild strawberries winking at me in the grass. I #puzzled over what I should do first.
#TootFic #NMFic #TimeTravel #HistoricalFantasy #UrbanFantasy #Mythpunk #Serial #Sapphic #Slowburn
-
#TimeTravelingGhostV2 EP 12: Post 123, 1,802,701 CE, Middlesex, UK
#Wss366 Puzzle #TimeTravelAuthors 08/3. Where does your main character live/where are they from?
As the images from my dream faded, I began to panic. The earlier questions haunted me: “Who was I? Where was I? Where had I come from?”
I had the strange conviction that I wasn’t from this time or place. That knowledge had been lost somewhere in the mists of time. What an odd way of putting it. Surely I meant lost in the void of my memory?
No, I meant the former: “Lost in time.”
I shook my head and struggled to my feet. I wouldn’t find any answers lying there. It was of the utmost importance that I learn more.
There it was again: that feeling of almost knowing. I knew the fate of the world depended on my piercing this veil of ignorance. That conviction burned in my mind.
I took stock of my surroundings: the Sphinx, crop circle, path into the forest, tiny wild strawberries winking at me in the grass. I #puzzled over what I should do first.
#TootFic #NMFic #TimeTravel #HistoricalFantasy #UrbanFantasy #Mythpunk #Serial #Sapphic #Slowburn
-
#TimeTravelingGhostV2 EP 12: Post 123, 1,802,701 CE, Middlesex, UK
#Wss366 Puzzle #TimeTravelAuthors 08/3. Where does your main character live/where are they from?
As the images from my dream faded, I began to panic. The earlier questions haunted me: “Who was I? Where was I? Where had I come from?”
I had the strange conviction that I wasn’t from this time or place. That knowledge had been lost somewhere in the mists of time. What an odd way of putting it. Surely I meant lost in the void of my memory?
No, I meant the former: “Lost in time.”
I shook my head and struggled to my feet. I wouldn’t find any answers lying there. It was of the utmost importance that I learn more.
There it was again: that feeling of almost knowing. I knew the fate of the world depended on my piercing this veil of ignorance. That conviction burned in my mind.
I took stock of my surroundings: the Sphinx, crop circle, path into the forest, tiny wild strawberries winking at me in the grass. I #puzzled over what I should do first.
#TootFic #NMFic #TimeTravel #HistoricalFantasy #UrbanFantasy #Mythpunk #Serial #Sapphic #Slowburn
-
#TimeTravelingGhostV2 EP 12: Post 123, 1,802,701 CE, Middlesex, UK
#Wss366 Puzzle #TimeTravelAuthors 08/3. Where does your main character live/where are they from?
As the images from my dream faded, I began to panic. The earlier questions haunted me: “Who was I? Where was I? Where had I come from?”
I had the strange conviction that I wasn’t from this time or place. That knowledge had been lost somewhere in the mists of time. What an odd way of putting it. Surely I meant lost in the void of my memory?
No, I meant the former: “Lost in time.”
I shook my head and struggled to my feet. I wouldn’t find any answers lying there. It was of the utmost importance that I learn more.
There it was again: that feeling of almost knowing. I knew the fate of the world depended on my piercing this veil of ignorance. That conviction burned in my mind.
I took stock of my surroundings: the Sphinx, crop circle, path into the forest, tiny wild strawberries winking at me in the grass. I #puzzled over what I should do first.
#TootFic #NMFic #TimeTravel #HistoricalFantasy #UrbanFantasy #Mythpunk #Serial #Sapphic #Slowburn
-
#TimeTravelingGhostV2 EP 12: Post 123, 1,802,701 CE, Middlesex, UK
#Wss366 Puzzle #TimeTravelAuthors 08/3. Where does your main character live/where are they from?
As the images from my dream faded, I began to panic. The earlier questions haunted me: “Who was I? Where was I? Where had I come from?”
I had the strange conviction that I wasn’t from this time or place. That knowledge had been lost somewhere in the mists of time. What an odd way of putting it. Surely I meant lost in the void of my memory?
No, I meant the former: “Lost in time.”
I shook my head and struggled to my feet. I wouldn’t find any answers lying there. It was of the utmost importance that I learn more.
There it was again: that feeling of almost knowing. I knew the fate of the world depended on my piercing this veil of ignorance. That conviction burned in my mind.
I took stock of my surroundings: the Sphinx, crop circle, path into the forest, tiny wild strawberries winking at me in the grass. I #puzzled over what I should do first.
#TootFic #NMFic #TimeTravel #HistoricalFantasy #UrbanFantasy #Mythpunk #Serial #Sapphic #Slowburn
-
#TimeTravelingGhost EP 12: Post 122, 1,802,701 CE, Middlesex, UK
#Wss366 August #TimeTravelAuthors 08/1. Introduce your story (optional: use the word "wish")
For a long time, all I could focus on was the blue sky. A single, wispy cloud floated there. Then, my eyes drifted down to a marble sphinx that loomed over me, wings folded at its sides. I examined, uncomprehending, the weathered stains and moss growing in the creases of its sides. Ferns grew on its paws, along with a solitary scrubby bush. I felt heavy, and my brain was fuzzy. Then the questions occurred to me: “Who am I?” and “Where was I?”
The situation was dimly familiar. Hadn’t I forgotten everything before? Right, there had been that alley with the graffiti of the Eye of Providence, or was it a pink coral pyramid with giant azure dragonflies? I #wished I could remember, but it was all a jumble.
“Think! Think!”
“Rabbits and Templars. I had been fleeing them. Why? A meeting… Cyprus… 1191. That must be why I’m wearing medieval priest’s robes. And something about their calling a meteor to destroy humanity.”
I shuddered at the image of a flaming ball crossing a blue sky. Suddenly, a hot flash caused me to flush, leaving me uncomfortably damp with sweat.
I parted the grass I lay in, looking for Emily, but I was alone in a forest of #august oaks: gnarled trees whose branches brushed the Sphinx’s sides. Tall ferns crowded its bronze base, a path threading through them.
“Emily?” I muttered. Then, turning my head to look for her, I saw an open meadow sloping away from me. In its center lay a large trampled circle where feet had beaten down the grass.
“Fairies?” I asked myself. But that was crazy.
It must have all been a wild, vivid nightmare. Who’d ever heard of fairies or rabbits with rifles? The vision of them in Nazi uniforms and Templar surcoats flared in my mind and then faded.
A dream? It all had to be a confused vision, and Emily must be a figment of my sleeping brain. Why did that make me want to cry?
A tear ran down my cheek.
Welcome to volume two of “Bijou the Time-Traveling Ghost.” We open in the far future, 1,802,701 of the Common Era, and with poor Bijou only vaguely remembering Emily, the Lapin Cabal, the Illuminati, Templars, and the Covenant of Judas.
#TootFic #NMFic #TimeTravel #HistoricalFantasy #UrbanFantasy #Mythpunk #Serial #Slowburn
-
#TimeTravelingGhost EP 12: Post 122, 1,802,701 CE, Middlesex, UK
#Wss366 August #TimeTravelAuthors 08/1. Introduce your story (optional: use the word "wish")
For a long time, all I could focus on was the blue sky. A single, wispy cloud floated there. Then, my eyes drifted down to a marble sphinx that loomed over me, wings folded at its sides. I examined, uncomprehending, the weathered stains and moss growing in the creases of its sides. Ferns grew on its paws, along with a solitary scrubby bush. I felt heavy, and my brain was fuzzy. Then the questions occurred to me: “Who am I?” and “Where was I?”
The situation was dimly familiar. Hadn’t I forgotten everything before? Right, there had been that alley with the graffiti of the Eye of Providence, or was it a pink coral pyramid with giant azure dragonflies? I #wished I could remember, but it was all a jumble.
“Think! Think!”
“Rabbits and Templars. I had been fleeing them. Why? A meeting… Cyprus… 1191. That must be why I’m wearing medieval priest’s robes. And something about their calling a meteor to destroy humanity.”
I shuddered at the image of a flaming ball crossing a blue sky. Suddenly, a hot flash caused me to flush, leaving me uncomfortably damp with sweat.
I parted the grass I lay in, looking for Emily, but I was alone in a forest of #august oaks: gnarled trees whose branches brushed the Sphinx’s sides. Tall ferns crowded its bronze base, a path threading through them.
“Emily?” I muttered. Then, turning my head to look for her, I saw an open meadow sloping away from me. In its center lay a large trampled circle where feet had beaten down the grass.
“Fairies?” I asked myself. But that was crazy.
It must have all been a wild, vivid nightmare. Who’d ever heard of fairies or rabbits with rifles? The vision of them in Nazi uniforms and Templar surcoats flared in my mind and then faded.
A dream? It all had to be a confused vision, and Emily must be a figment of my sleeping brain. Why did that make me want to cry?
A tear ran down my cheek.
Welcome to volume two of “Bijou the Time-Traveling Ghost.” We open in the far future, 1,802,701 of the Common Era, and with poor Bijou only vaguely remembering Emily, the Lapin Cabal, the Illuminati, Templars, and the Covenant of Judas.
#TootFic #NMFic #TimeTravel #HistoricalFantasy #UrbanFantasy #Mythpunk #Serial #Slowburn
-
#TimeTravelingGhost EP 12: Post 122, 1,802,701 CE, Middlesex, UK
#Wss366 August #TimeTravelAuthors 08/1. Introduce your story (optional: use the word "wish")
For a long time, all I could focus on was the blue sky. A single, wispy cloud floated there. Then, my eyes drifted down to a marble sphinx that loomed over me, wings folded at its sides. I examined, uncomprehending, the weathered stains and moss growing in the creases of its sides. Ferns grew on its paws, along with a solitary scrubby bush. I felt heavy, and my brain was fuzzy. Then the questions occurred to me: “Who am I?” and “Where was I?”
The situation was dimly familiar. Hadn’t I forgotten everything before? Right, there had been that alley with the graffiti of the Eye of Providence, or was it a pink coral pyramid with giant azure dragonflies? I #wished I could remember, but it was all a jumble.
“Think! Think!”
“Rabbits and Templars. I had been fleeing them. Why? A meeting… Cyprus… 1191. That must be why I’m wearing medieval priest’s robes. And something about their calling a meteor to destroy humanity.”
I shuddered at the image of a flaming ball crossing a blue sky. Suddenly, a hot flash caused me to flush, leaving me uncomfortably damp with sweat.
I parted the grass I lay in, looking for Emily, but I was alone in a forest of #august oaks: gnarled trees whose branches brushed the Sphinx’s sides. Tall ferns crowded its bronze base, a path threading through them.
“Emily?” I muttered. Then, turning my head to look for her, I saw an open meadow sloping away from me. In its center lay a large trampled circle where feet had beaten down the grass.
“Fairies?” I asked myself. But that was crazy.
It must have all been a wild, vivid nightmare. Who’d ever heard of fairies or rabbits with rifles? The vision of them in Nazi uniforms and Templar surcoats flared in my mind and then faded.
A dream? It all had to be a confused vision, and Emily must be a figment of my sleeping brain. Why did that make me want to cry?
A tear ran down my cheek.
Welcome to volume two of “Bijou the Time-Traveling Ghost.” We open in the far future, 1,802,701 of the Common Era, and with poor Bijou only vaguely remembering Emily, the Lapin Cabal, the Illuminati, Templars, and the Covenant of Judas.
#TootFic #NMFic #TimeTravel #HistoricalFantasy #UrbanFantasy #Mythpunk #Serial #Slowburn
-
#TimeTravelingGhost EP 12: Post 122, 1,802,701 CE, Middlesex, UK
#Wss366 August #TimeTravelAuthors 08/1. Introduce your story (optional: use the word "wish")
For a long time, all I could focus on was the blue sky. A single, wispy cloud floated there. Then, my eyes drifted down to a marble sphinx that loomed over me, wings folded at its sides. I examined, uncomprehending, the weathered stains and moss growing in the creases of its sides. Ferns grew on its paws, along with a solitary scrubby bush. I felt heavy, and my brain was fuzzy. Then the questions occurred to me: “Who am I?” and “Where was I?”
The situation was dimly familiar. Hadn’t I forgotten everything before? Right, there had been that alley with the graffiti of the Eye of Providence, or was it a pink coral pyramid with giant azure dragonflies? I #wished I could remember, but it was all a jumble.
“Think! Think!”
“Rabbits and Templars. I had been fleeing them. Why? A meeting… Cyprus… 1191. That must be why I’m wearing medieval priest’s robes. And something about their calling a meteor to destroy humanity.”
I shuddered at the image of a flaming ball crossing a blue sky. Suddenly, a hot flash caused me to flush, leaving me uncomfortably damp with sweat.
I parted the grass I lay in, looking for Emily, but I was alone in a forest of #august oaks: gnarled trees whose branches brushed the Sphinx’s sides. Tall ferns crowded its bronze base, a path threading through them.
“Emily?” I muttered. Then, turning my head to look for her, I saw an open meadow sloping away from me. In its center lay a large trampled circle where feet had beaten down the grass.
“Fairies?” I asked myself. But that was crazy.
It must have all been a wild, vivid nightmare. Who’d ever heard of fairies or rabbits with rifles? The vision of them in Nazi uniforms and Templar surcoats flared in my mind and then faded.
A dream? It all had to be a confused vision, and Emily must be a figment of my sleeping brain. Why did that make me want to cry?
A tear ran down my cheek.
Welcome to volume two of “Bijou the Time-Traveling Ghost.” We open in the far future, 1,802,701 of the Common Era, and with poor Bijou only vaguely remembering Emily, the Lapin Cabal, the Illuminati, Templars, and the Covenant of Judas.
#TootFic #NMFic #TimeTravel #HistoricalFantasy #UrbanFantasy #Mythpunk #Serial #Slowburn
-
#TimeTravelingGhost EP 12: Post 122, 1,802,701 CE, Middlesex, UK
#Wss366 August #TimeTravelAuthors 08/1. Introduce your story (optional: use the word "wish")
For a long time, all I could focus on was the blue sky. A single, wispy cloud floated there. Then, my eyes drifted down to a marble sphinx that loomed over me, wings folded at its sides. I examined, uncomprehending, the weathered stains and moss growing in the creases of its sides. Ferns grew on its paws, along with a solitary scrubby bush. I felt heavy, and my brain was fuzzy. Then the questions occurred to me: “Who am I?” and “Where was I?”
The situation was dimly familiar. Hadn’t I forgotten everything before? Right, there had been that alley with the graffiti of the Eye of Providence, or was it a pink coral pyramid with giant azure dragonflies? I #wished I could remember, but it was all a jumble.
“Think! Think!”
“Rabbits and Templars. I had been fleeing them. Why? A meeting… Cyprus… 1191. That must be why I’m wearing medieval priest’s robes. And something about their calling a meteor to destroy humanity.”
I shuddered at the image of a flaming ball crossing a blue sky. Suddenly, a hot flash caused me to flush, leaving me uncomfortably damp with sweat.
I parted the grass I lay in, looking for Emily, but I was alone in a forest of #august oaks: gnarled trees whose branches brushed the Sphinx’s sides. Tall ferns crowded its bronze base, a path threading through them.
“Emily?” I muttered. Then, turning my head to look for her, I saw an open meadow sloping away from me. In its center lay a large trampled circle where feet had beaten down the grass.
“Fairies?” I asked myself. But that was crazy.
It must have all been a wild, vivid nightmare. Who’d ever heard of fairies or rabbits with rifles? The vision of them in Nazi uniforms and Templar surcoats flared in my mind and then faded.
A dream? It all had to be a confused vision, and Emily must be a figment of my sleeping brain. Why did that make me want to cry?
A tear ran down my cheek.
Welcome to volume two of “Bijou the Time-Traveling Ghost.” We open in the far future, 1,802,701 of the Common Era, and with poor Bijou only vaguely remembering Emily, the Lapin Cabal, the Illuminati, Templars, and the Covenant of Judas.
#TootFic #NMFic #TimeTravel #HistoricalFantasy #UrbanFantasy #Mythpunk #Serial #Slowburn
-
#TimeTravelingGhost EP 11: Post 121, 1191, The Castle of Nicosia
#Wss366 Brandy #TimeTravelAuthors 07/31. Author's choice/promo
The canister held by the Grand Marshal’s attendants was bullet-shaped, the size of a large artillery shell, and dull black like anodized aluminum. No twelfth-century smith had forged this futuristic object.
“I present Simon Magus risen from the dead,” said Sir Sablé with reverence.
A murmur swept through the room. Near me, a man muttered, “Magus? What heresy is this?”
Sablé’s hands passed over the container, and the front slid back. The vessel was definitely not of twelfth-century origin. It couldn’t even have been constructed in my own era. A head with a short, curly beard, and Palestinian features was revealed. His skin was an unhealthy color, blotched like ivory that had been buried for centuries.
Another murmur arose, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw Montferrat’s hand clench; knuckles white. Was his displeasure with this conclave the true reason for his assassination?
Simon opened his eyes and spoke, “Silence, for on your account I have risen; that I may guide the lost sheep and hasten the coming of our Lord.”
“But wait,” he continued. “I sense one who is not of you: a spider garbed as a holy dove.”
His eyes, the color of #brandy, burnt into me, and he began spewing Latin. “Te maledico ut sis terrenus. Alae tuae mihi caeduntur.”
I grew heavy, and the room seemed to be bathed in light. Knowledge flooded my mind: the bishop was Philippe de Dreux of Beauvais, hated by King Richard; and the Grand Marshal’s attendants were Gilbert Horal and Brother Aimery, Marshal of the Temple. I had come to the Holy Lands after my wife, Mary, had died in childbirth.
I suddenly understood Simon’s Latin. “I bind you. Ensnare you in your own web,” he chanted.
Emily was rushing towards me, but I felt weak and sick. I had only moments to react. I was being bound to this time.
“In the sacred and forbidden names of the Lord, be cursed…”
I wished to be far away, safely beyond the reach of the Lapin Cabal and its allies.
The lights flickered, and I felt as if my soul was being torn from my body. Then darkness descended.
When I awoke, I was lying in tall grass. Above me stood a weathered marble phoenix, perched on a bronze base. I looked around. I was alone. Emily was nowhere to be seen.
Thus ends Volume I of “Bijou the Time-Traveling Ghost.” We have traveled from the birth of a spirit robbed of all memory of herself to the discovery of an eon-old conspiracy to destroy the world as we know it. An illustrated and revised version of this story is currently being serialized at:
If you would like to catch up or are interested in reading an improved version, please join me on one of those sites.
Nara Moore
#TootFic #NMFic #TimeTravel #HistoricalFantasy #UrbanFantasy #Mythpunk #Serial #Slowburn #Templar #Templars
-
#TimeTravelingGhost EP 11: Post 121, 1191, The Castle of Nicosia
#Wss366 Brandy #TimeTravelAuthors 07/31. Author's choice/promo
The canister held by the Grand Marshal’s attendants was bullet-shaped, the size of a large artillery shell, and dull black like anodized aluminum. No twelfth-century smith had forged this futuristic object.
“I present Simon Magus risen from the dead,” said Sir Sablé with reverence.
A murmur swept through the room. Near me, a man muttered, “Magus? What heresy is this?”
Sablé’s hands passed over the container, and the front slid back. The vessel was definitely not of twelfth-century origin. It couldn’t even have been constructed in my own era. A head with a short, curly beard, and Palestinian features was revealed. His skin was an unhealthy color, blotched like ivory that had been buried for centuries.
Another murmur arose, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw Montferrat’s hand clench; knuckles white. Was his displeasure with this conclave the true reason for his assassination?
Simon opened his eyes and spoke, “Silence, for on your account I have risen; that I may guide the lost sheep and hasten the coming of our Lord.”
“But wait,” he continued. “I sense one who is not of you: a spider garbed as a holy dove.”
His eyes, the color of #brandy, burnt into me, and he began spewing Latin. “Te maledico ut sis terrenus. Alae tuae mihi caeduntur.”
I grew heavy, and the room seemed to be bathed in light. Knowledge flooded my mind: the bishop was Philippe de Dreux of Beauvais, hated by King Richard; and the Grand Marshal’s attendants were Gilbert Horal and Brother Aimery, Marshal of the Temple. I had come to the Holy Lands after my wife, Mary, had died in childbirth.
I suddenly understood Simon’s Latin. “I bind you. Ensnare you in your own web,” he chanted.
Emily was rushing towards me, but I felt weak and sick. I had only moments to react. I was being bound to this time.
“In the sacred and forbidden names of the Lord, be cursed…”
I wished to be far away, safely beyond the reach of the Lapin Cabal and its allies.
The lights flickered, and I felt as if my soul was being torn from my body. Then darkness descended.
When I awoke, I was lying in tall grass. Above me stood a weathered marble phoenix, perched on a bronze base. I looked around. I was alone. Emily was nowhere to be seen.
Thus ends Volume I of “Bijou the Time-Traveling Ghost.” We have traveled from the birth of a spirit robbed of all memory of herself to the discovery of an eon-old conspiracy to destroy the world as we know it. An illustrated and revised version of this story is currently being serialized at:
If you would like to catch up or are interested in reading an improved version, please join me on one of those sites.
Nara Moore
#TootFic #NMFic #TimeTravel #HistoricalFantasy #UrbanFantasy #Mythpunk #Serial #Slowburn #Templar #Templars
-
#TimeTravelingGhost EP 11: Post 121, 1191, The Castle of Nicosia
#Wss366 Brandy #TimeTravelAuthors 07/31. Author's choice/promo
The canister held by the Grand Marshal’s attendants was bullet-shaped, the size of a large artillery shell, and dull black like anodized aluminum. No twelfth-century smith had forged this futuristic object.
“I present Simon Magus risen from the dead,” said Sir Sablé with reverence.
A murmur swept through the room. Near me, a man muttered, “Magus? What heresy is this?”
Sablé’s hands passed over the container, and the front slid back. The vessel was definitely not of twelfth-century origin. It couldn’t even have been constructed in my own era. A head with a short, curly beard, and Palestinian features was revealed. His skin was an unhealthy color, blotched like ivory that had been buried for centuries.
Another murmur arose, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw Montferrat’s hand clench; knuckles white. Was his displeasure with this conclave the true reason for his assassination?
Simon opened his eyes and spoke, “Silence, for on your account I have risen; that I may guide the lost sheep and hasten the coming of our Lord.”
“But wait,” he continued. “I sense one who is not of you: a spider garbed as a holy dove.”
His eyes, the color of #brandy, burnt into me, and he began spewing Latin. “Te maledico ut sis terrenus. Alae tuae mihi caeduntur.”
I grew heavy, and the room seemed to be bathed in light. Knowledge flooded my mind: the bishop was Philippe de Dreux of Beauvais, hated by King Richard; and the Grand Marshal’s attendants were Gilbert Horal and Brother Aimery, Marshal of the Temple. I had come to the Holy Lands after my wife, Mary, had died in childbirth.
I suddenly understood Simon’s Latin. “I bind you. Ensnare you in your own web,” he chanted.
Emily was rushing towards me, but I felt weak and sick. I had only moments to react. I was being bound to this time.
“In the sacred and forbidden names of the Lord, be cursed…”
I wished to be far away, safely beyond the reach of the Lapin Cabal and its allies.
The lights flickered, and I felt as if my soul was being torn from my body. Then darkness descended.
When I awoke, I was lying in tall grass. Above me stood a weathered marble phoenix, perched on a bronze base. I looked around. I was alone. Emily was nowhere to be seen.
Thus ends Volume I of “Bijou the Time-Traveling Ghost.” We have traveled from the birth of a spirit robbed of all memory of herself to the discovery of an eon-old conspiracy to destroy the world as we know it. An illustrated and revised version of this story is currently being serialized at:
If you would like to catch up or are interested in reading an improved version, please join me on one of those sites.
Nara Moore
#TootFic #NMFic #TimeTravel #HistoricalFantasy #UrbanFantasy #Mythpunk #Serial #Slowburn #Templar #Templars
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#TimeTravelingGhost EP 11: Post 121, 1191, The Castle of Nicosia
#Wss366 Brandy #TimeTravelAuthors 07/31. Author's choice/promo
The canister held by the Grand Marshal’s attendants was bullet-shaped, the size of a large artillery shell, and dull black like anodized aluminum. No twelfth-century smith had forged this futuristic object.
“I present Simon Magus risen from the dead,” said Sir Sablé with reverence.
A murmur swept through the room. Near me, a man muttered, “Magus? What heresy is this?”
Sablé’s hands passed over the container, and the front slid back. The vessel was definitely not of twelfth-century origin. It couldn’t even have been constructed in my own era. A head with a short, curly beard, and Palestinian features was revealed. His skin was an unhealthy color, blotched like ivory that had been buried for centuries.
Another murmur arose, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw Montferrat’s hand clench; knuckles white. Was his displeasure with this conclave the true reason for his assassination?
Simon opened his eyes and spoke, “Silence, for on your account I have risen; that I may guide the lost sheep and hasten the coming of our Lord.”
“But wait,” he continued. “I sense one who is not of you: a spider garbed as a holy dove.”
His eyes, the color of #brandy, burnt into me, and he began spewing Latin. “Te maledico ut sis terrenus. Alae tuae mihi caeduntur.”
I grew heavy, and the room seemed to be bathed in light. Knowledge flooded my mind: the bishop was Philippe de Dreux of Beauvais, hated by King Richard; and the Grand Marshal’s attendants were Gilbert Horal and Brother Aimery, Marshal of the Temple. I had come to the Holy Lands after my wife, Mary, had died in childbirth.
I suddenly understood Simon’s Latin. “I bind you. Ensnare you in your own web,” he chanted.
Emily was rushing towards me, but I felt weak and sick. I had only moments to react. I was being bound to this time.
“In the sacred and forbidden names of the Lord, be cursed…”
I wished to be far away, safely beyond the reach of the Lapin Cabal and its allies.
The lights flickered, and I felt as if my soul was being torn from my body. Then darkness descended.
When I awoke, I was lying in tall grass. Above me stood a weathered marble phoenix, perched on a bronze base. I looked around. I was alone. Emily was nowhere to be seen.
Thus ends Volume I of “Bijou the Time-Traveling Ghost.” We have traveled from the birth of a spirit robbed of all memory of herself to the discovery of an eon-old conspiracy to destroy the world as we know it. An illustrated and revised version of this story is currently being serialized at:
If you would like to catch up or are interested in reading an improved version, please join me on one of those sites.
Nara Moore
#TootFic #NMFic #TimeTravel #HistoricalFantasy #UrbanFantasy #Mythpunk #Serial #Slowburn #Templar #Templars
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#TimeTravelingGhost EP 11: Post 121, 1191, The Castle of Nicosia
#Wss366 Brandy #TimeTravelAuthors 07/31. Author's choice/promo
The canister held by the Grand Marshal’s attendants was bullet-shaped, the size of a large artillery shell, and dull black like anodized aluminum. No twelfth-century smith had forged this futuristic object.
“I present Simon Magus risen from the dead,” said Sir Sablé with reverence.
A murmur swept through the room. Near me, a man muttered, “Magus? What heresy is this?”
Sablé’s hands passed over the container, and the front slid back. The vessel was definitely not of twelfth-century origin. It couldn’t even have been constructed in my own era. A head with a short, curly beard, and Palestinian features was revealed. His skin was an unhealthy color, blotched like ivory that had been buried for centuries.
Another murmur arose, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw Montferrat’s hand clench; knuckles white. Was his displeasure with this conclave the true reason for his assassination?
Simon opened his eyes and spoke, “Silence, for on your account I have risen; that I may guide the lost sheep and hasten the coming of our Lord.”
“But wait,” he continued. “I sense one who is not of you: a spider garbed as a holy dove.”
His eyes, the color of #brandy, burnt into me, and he began spewing Latin. “Te maledico ut sis terrenus. Alae tuae mihi caeduntur.”
I grew heavy, and the room seemed to be bathed in light. Knowledge flooded my mind: the bishop was Philippe de Dreux of Beauvais, hated by King Richard; and the Grand Marshal’s attendants were Gilbert Horal and Brother Aimery, Marshal of the Temple. I had come to the Holy Lands after my wife, Mary, had died in childbirth.
I suddenly understood Simon’s Latin. “I bind you. Ensnare you in your own web,” he chanted.
Emily was rushing towards me, but I felt weak and sick. I had only moments to react. I was being bound to this time.
“In the sacred and forbidden names of the Lord, be cursed…”
I wished to be far away, safely beyond the reach of the Lapin Cabal and its allies.
The lights flickered, and I felt as if my soul was being torn from my body. Then darkness descended.
When I awoke, I was lying in tall grass. Above me stood a weathered marble phoenix, perched on a bronze base. I looked around. I was alone. Emily was nowhere to be seen.
Thus ends Volume I of “Bijou the Time-Traveling Ghost.” We have traveled from the birth of a spirit robbed of all memory of herself to the discovery of an eon-old conspiracy to destroy the world as we know it. An illustrated and revised version of this story is currently being serialized at:
If you would like to catch up or are interested in reading an improved version, please join me on one of those sites.
Nara Moore
#TootFic #NMFic #TimeTravel #HistoricalFantasy #UrbanFantasy #Mythpunk #Serial #Slowburn #Templar #Templars
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CW: Historical Fantasy / AI Video
“Bressac’s Salon 10” is an AI‑generated installment in Extended Whipping Scenes Cinematic’s ongoing period‑drama series, set in the decadent world of the Marquis de Bressac. This chapter focuses on a tense ritual of discipline within an aristocratic salon, where strict expectations and harsh etiquette shape the fate of a young woman under the watchful eyes of the elite.
https://powershopz.com/ExtendedWhippingScenesCinematic/289979
#ExtendedWhippingScenesCinematic #HistoricalFantasy #AIVideo -
#TimeTravelingGhost EP 11: Post 120, 1191, The Castle of Nicosia (2 of 2 parts)
#Wss366 Boner #TimeTravelAuthors 07/29. proof/prove
Sir Sablé began winding down after the big announcement confirming the link between the book we had seen in the British Museum and the current meeting, saying, “Let the fruits of this gathering, our Garden of Gethsemane, be known as ‘The Covenant of St. Judas.’”
There were murmurs of dissent around me, and Sir Conrad's face showed his dissatisfaction. Frankly, I had to agree. I wouldn’t have been swayed either by the blatant heresy of his words.
However, the Grand Marshal was prepared for this and announced, “Some of you still doubt me. That is nothing new; even those who heard Our Lord with their own ears did not believe Him. Therefore, I shall show you the sign entrusted to me.”
He nodded to his attendants. They turned to leave, only to stop when Sir Conrad spoke. “And of King Henry?”
The Templar frowned and might have objected, but Conrad was too important a person to ignore.
“Henry is not privy to this conclave,” Sir Sablé said. “Let the Lord of England do what he does best: fight the infidels. Bois-Guilbert and Lancaster are here as John’s envoys. I have his noble word of support for our venture. Are you satisfied, Montferrat?” (So I was right; he was Sir Conrad of Montferrat. I was a tiny fish swimming with this era’s barracudas.)
“I am,” he answered. His face told a different story: grim, hard, and skeptical.
Sir Sablé’s knights left, soon returning with a metal canister. The sight turned me cold. Although the Grand Master presented it as a holy thing, I could sense its abominable nature. What fresh horror was about to be revealed?
#TootFic #NMFic #TimeTravel #HistoricalFantasy #UrbanFantasy #Mythpunk #Serial #Slowburn #Templar
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#TimeTravelingGhost EP 11: Post 120, 1191, The Castle of Nicosia (2 of 2 parts)
#Wss366 Boner #TimeTravelAuthors 07/29. proof/prove
Sir Sablé began winding down after the big announcement confirming the link between the book we had seen in the British Museum and the current meeting, saying, “Let the fruits of this gathering, our Garden of Gethsemane, be known as ‘The Covenant of St. Judas.’”
There were murmurs of dissent around me, and Sir Conrad's face showed his dissatisfaction. Frankly, I had to agree. I wouldn’t have been swayed either by the blatant heresy of his words.
However, the Grand Marshal was prepared for this and announced, “Some of you still doubt me. That is nothing new; even those who heard Our Lord with their own ears did not believe Him. Therefore, I shall show you the sign entrusted to me.”
He nodded to his attendants. They turned to leave, only to stop when Sir Conrad spoke. “And of King Henry?”
The Templar frowned and might have objected, but Conrad was too important a person to ignore.
“Henry is not privy to this conclave,” Sir Sablé said. “Let the Lord of England do what he does best: fight the infidels. Bois-Guilbert and Lancaster are here as John’s envoys. I have his noble word of support for our venture. Are you satisfied, Montferrat?” (So I was right; he was Sir Conrad of Montferrat. I was a tiny fish swimming with this era’s barracudas.)
“I am,” he answered. His face told a different story: grim, hard, and skeptical.
Sir Sablé’s knights left, soon returning with a metal canister. The sight turned me cold. Although the Grand Master presented it as a holy thing, I could sense its abominable nature. What fresh horror was about to be revealed?
#TootFic #NMFic #TimeTravel #HistoricalFantasy #UrbanFantasy #Mythpunk #Serial #Slowburn #Templar
-
#TimeTravelingGhost EP 11: Post 120, 1191, The Castle of Nicosia (2 of 2 parts)
#Wss366 Boner #TimeTravelAuthors 07/29. proof/prove
Sir Sablé began winding down after the big announcement confirming the link between the book we had seen in the British Museum and the current meeting, saying, “Let the fruits of this gathering, our Garden of Gethsemane, be known as ‘The Covenant of St. Judas.’”
There were murmurs of dissent around me, and Sir Conrad's face showed his dissatisfaction. Frankly, I had to agree. I wouldn’t have been swayed either by the blatant heresy of his words.
However, the Grand Marshal was prepared for this and announced, “Some of you still doubt me. That is nothing new; even those who heard Our Lord with their own ears did not believe Him. Therefore, I shall show you the sign entrusted to me.”
He nodded to his attendants. They turned to leave, only to stop when Sir Conrad spoke. “And of King Henry?”
The Templar frowned and might have objected, but Conrad was too important a person to ignore.
“Henry is not privy to this conclave,” Sir Sablé said. “Let the Lord of England do what he does best: fight the infidels. Bois-Guilbert and Lancaster are here as John’s envoys. I have his noble word of support for our venture. Are you satisfied, Montferrat?” (So I was right; he was Sir Conrad of Montferrat. I was a tiny fish swimming with this era’s barracudas.)
“I am,” he answered. His face told a different story: grim, hard, and skeptical.
Sir Sablé’s knights left, soon returning with a metal canister. The sight turned me cold. Although the Grand Master presented it as a holy thing, I could sense its abominable nature. What fresh horror was about to be revealed?
#TootFic #NMFic #TimeTravel #HistoricalFantasy #UrbanFantasy #Mythpunk #Serial #Slowburn #Templar
-
#TimeTravelingGhost EP 11: Post 120, 1191, The Castle of Nicosia (2 of 2 parts)
#Wss366 Boner #TimeTravelAuthors 07/29. proof/prove
Sir Sablé began winding down after the big announcement confirming the link between the book we had seen in the British Museum and the current meeting, saying, “Let the fruits of this gathering, our Garden of Gethsemane, be known as ‘The Covenant of St. Judas.’”
There were murmurs of dissent around me, and Sir Conrad's face showed his dissatisfaction. Frankly, I had to agree. I wouldn’t have been swayed either by the blatant heresy of his words.
However, the Grand Marshal was prepared for this and announced, “Some of you still doubt me. That is nothing new; even those who heard Our Lord with their own ears did not believe Him. Therefore, I shall show you the sign entrusted to me.”
He nodded to his attendants. They turned to leave, only to stop when Sir Conrad spoke. “And of King Henry?”
The Templar frowned and might have objected, but Conrad was too important a person to ignore.
“Henry is not privy to this conclave,” Sir Sablé said. “Let the Lord of England do what he does best: fight the infidels. Bois-Guilbert and Lancaster are here as John’s envoys. I have his noble word of support for our venture. Are you satisfied, Montferrat?” (So I was right; he was Sir Conrad of Montferrat. I was a tiny fish swimming with this era’s barracudas.)
“I am,” he answered. His face told a different story: grim, hard, and skeptical.
Sir Sablé’s knights left, soon returning with a metal canister. The sight turned me cold. Although the Grand Master presented it as a holy thing, I could sense its abominable nature. What fresh horror was about to be revealed?
#TootFic #NMFic #TimeTravel #HistoricalFantasy #UrbanFantasy #Mythpunk #Serial #Slowburn #Templar
-
#TimeTravelingGhost EP 11: Post 120, 1191, The Castle of Nicosia (2 of 2 parts)
#Wss366 Boner #TimeTravelAuthors 07/29. proof/prove
Sir Sablé began winding down after the big announcement confirming the link between the book we had seen in the British Museum and the current meeting, saying, “Let the fruits of this gathering, our Garden of Gethsemane, be known as ‘The Covenant of St. Judas.’”
There were murmurs of dissent around me, and Sir Conrad's face showed his dissatisfaction. Frankly, I had to agree. I wouldn’t have been swayed either by the blatant heresy of his words.
However, the Grand Marshal was prepared for this and announced, “Some of you still doubt me. That is nothing new; even those who heard Our Lord with their own ears did not believe Him. Therefore, I shall show you the sign entrusted to me.”
He nodded to his attendants. They turned to leave, only to stop when Sir Conrad spoke. “And of King Henry?”
The Templar frowned and might have objected, but Conrad was too important a person to ignore.
“Henry is not privy to this conclave,” Sir Sablé said. “Let the Lord of England do what he does best: fight the infidels. Bois-Guilbert and Lancaster are here as John’s envoys. I have his noble word of support for our venture. Are you satisfied, Montferrat?” (So I was right; he was Sir Conrad of Montferrat. I was a tiny fish swimming with this era’s barracudas.)
“I am,” he answered. His face told a different story: grim, hard, and skeptical.
Sir Sablé’s knights left, soon returning with a metal canister. The sight turned me cold. Although the Grand Master presented it as a holy thing, I could sense its abominable nature. What fresh horror was about to be revealed?
#TootFic #NMFic #TimeTravel #HistoricalFantasy #UrbanFantasy #Mythpunk #Serial #Slowburn #Templar
-
#TimeTravelingGhost EP 11: Post 120, 1191, The Castle of Nicosia (1 of 2 parts)
#Wss366 Boner #TimeTravelAuthors 07/29. proof/prove
“You may be seated,” Sir Sablé said. The Grand Master of the Templars’ voice was dignified, higher than one might expect, but the tone was that of someone accustomed to command. “Bishop Dreux, will you honor this gathering with a prayer?”
I recognized the priest he had called on as the person who’d challenged Sir Conrad earlier. Even though he was a bishop, he was clearly also a fighting man: strong, scarred; the bulk of his robes hinted at chain mail beneath. I didn’t understand the brief Latin prayer he led. It was a pity I hadn’t learned Latin at university.
While we prayed, Emily left my side, moving to the dais so she could hear what the rabbits were saying to Sir Sablé. It was a decision that would later #prove disastrous. A real #boner, as some of my cruder students might have said. (Why did these memories come back to me when I couldn’t follow up on them?)
Once the prayer had finished, the Grand Master addressed us. “You have been called here in the Lord’s name and shall be blessed for your piety…”
He continued in this vein for a while, and most of what he said wasn’t worth repeating. However, other parts of his speech had stunning implications.
- “Though unworthy, the Lord hath lifted me from the dust as our Lord Jesus did Mary Magdalene, and a heavenly host has vouchsafed me words. Today, I humbly bear their message for your ears.”
Behind him the rabbits made ironic bows that he couldn’t see.
- “As Saint Judas Iscariot sacrificed himself to bring about our Savior’s glorious act of redemption, we too are summoned to make the ultimate sacrifice, our honor. We may be reviled for our deeds, but we the faithful shall show the same devotion, to God’s will, Abraham did when the Lord commanded him to sacrifice his son. We will hold fast, knowing that our obedience is required to invoke the Third Coming, bringing a fiery end to this sinful race, Adam’s kin, and to call down the final judgment when the Lord’s hammer smites the world once again.”
A groan escaped me. For an instant I could see the Cretaceous–Paleogene fireball streaking across the sky, setting me ablaze. Fortunately, Sir Sablé’s speech had everyone enthralled, or perhaps they thought it was a gasp of wonder.
It was part intuition and part logic that led me to conclude that the Lapin Cabal intended to bring a meteor down on the world, as had happened in Yucatán. How or why I didn’t know. To this end, they recruited the gullible, the ambitious, and the truly wicked to do their bidding. The Templars, Illuminati, Nazis, and ICE-Nine were just examples of this.
The implications were staggering, and from Emily’s face, she recognized it too.
#TootFic #NMFic #TimeTravel #HistoricalFantasy #UrbanFantasy #Mythpunk #Serial #Slowburn #Templar #Templars
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#TimeTravelingGhost EP 11: Post 120, 1191, The Castle of Nicosia (1 of 2 parts)
#Wss366 Boner #TimeTravelAuthors 07/29. proof/prove
“You may be seated,” Sir Sablé said. The Grand Master of the Templars’ voice was dignified, higher than one might expect, but the tone was that of someone accustomed to command. “Bishop Dreux, will you honor this gathering with a prayer?”
I recognized the priest he had called on as the person who’d challenged Sir Conrad earlier. Even though he was a bishop, he was clearly also a fighting man: strong, scarred; the bulk of his robes hinted at chain mail beneath. I didn’t understand the brief Latin prayer he led. It was a pity I hadn’t learned Latin at university.
While we prayed, Emily left my side, moving to the dais so she could hear what the rabbits were saying to Sir Sablé. It was a decision that would later #prove disastrous. A real #boner, as some of my cruder students might have said. (Why did these memories come back to me when I couldn’t follow up on them?)
Once the prayer had finished, the Grand Master addressed us. “You have been called here in the Lord’s name and shall be blessed for your piety…”
He continued in this vein for a while, and most of what he said wasn’t worth repeating. However, other parts of his speech had stunning implications.
- “Though unworthy, the Lord hath lifted me from the dust as our Lord Jesus did Mary Magdalene, and a heavenly host has vouchsafed me words. Today, I humbly bear their message for your ears.”
Behind him the rabbits made ironic bows that he couldn’t see.
- “As Saint Judas Iscariot sacrificed himself to bring about our Savior’s glorious act of redemption, we too are summoned to make the ultimate sacrifice, our honor. We may be reviled for our deeds, but we the faithful shall show the same devotion, to God’s will, Abraham did when the Lord commanded him to sacrifice his son. We will hold fast, knowing that our obedience is required to invoke the Third Coming, bringing a fiery end to this sinful race, Adam’s kin, and to call down the final judgment when the Lord’s hammer smites the world once again.”
A groan escaped me. For an instant I could see the Cretaceous–Paleogene fireball streaking across the sky, setting me ablaze. Fortunately, Sir Sablé’s speech had everyone enthralled, or perhaps they thought it was a gasp of wonder.
It was part intuition and part logic that led me to conclude that the Lapin Cabal intended to bring a meteor down on the world, as had happened in Yucatán. How or why I didn’t know. To this end, they recruited the gullible, the ambitious, and the truly wicked to do their bidding. The Templars, Illuminati, Nazis, and ICE-Nine were just examples of this.
The implications were staggering, and from Emily’s face, she recognized it too.
#TootFic #NMFic #TimeTravel #HistoricalFantasy #UrbanFantasy #Mythpunk #Serial #Slowburn #Templar #Templars
-
#TimeTravelingGhost EP 11: Post 120, 1191, The Castle of Nicosia (1 of 2 parts)
#Wss366 Boner #TimeTravelAuthors 07/29. proof/prove
“You may be seated,” Sir Sablé said. The Grand Master of the Templars’ voice was dignified, higher than one might expect, but the tone was that of someone accustomed to command. “Bishop Dreux, will you honor this gathering with a prayer?”
I recognized the priest he had called on as the person who’d challenged Sir Conrad earlier. Even though he was a bishop, he was clearly also a fighting man: strong, scarred; the bulk of his robes hinted at chain mail beneath. I didn’t understand the brief Latin prayer he led. It was a pity I hadn’t learned Latin at university.
While we prayed, Emily left my side, moving to the dais so she could hear what the rabbits were saying to Sir Sablé. It was a decision that would later #prove disastrous. A real #boner, as some of my cruder students might have said. (Why did these memories come back to me when I couldn’t follow up on them?)
Once the prayer had finished, the Grand Master addressed us. “You have been called here in the Lord’s name and shall be blessed for your piety…”
He continued in this vein for a while, and most of what he said wasn’t worth repeating. However, other parts of his speech had stunning implications.
- “Though unworthy, the Lord hath lifted me from the dust as our Lord Jesus did Mary Magdalene, and a heavenly host has vouchsafed me words. Today, I humbly bear their message for your ears.”
Behind him the rabbits made ironic bows that he couldn’t see.
- “As Saint Judas Iscariot sacrificed himself to bring about our Savior’s glorious act of redemption, we too are summoned to make the ultimate sacrifice, our honor. We may be reviled for our deeds, but we the faithful shall show the same devotion, to God’s will, Abraham did when the Lord commanded him to sacrifice his son. We will hold fast, knowing that our obedience is required to invoke the Third Coming, bringing a fiery end to this sinful race, Adam’s kin, and to call down the final judgment when the Lord’s hammer smites the world once again.”
A groan escaped me. For an instant I could see the Cretaceous–Paleogene fireball streaking across the sky, setting me ablaze. Fortunately, Sir Sablé’s speech had everyone enthralled, or perhaps they thought it was a gasp of wonder.
It was part intuition and part logic that led me to conclude that the Lapin Cabal intended to bring a meteor down on the world, as had happened in Yucatán. How or why I didn’t know. To this end, they recruited the gullible, the ambitious, and the truly wicked to do their bidding. The Templars, Illuminati, Nazis, and ICE-Nine were just examples of this.
The implications were staggering, and from Emily’s face, she recognized it too.
#TootFic #NMFic #TimeTravel #HistoricalFantasy #UrbanFantasy #Mythpunk #Serial #Slowburn #Templar #Templars
-
#TimeTravelingGhost EP 11: Post 120, 1191, The Castle of Nicosia (1 of 2 parts)
#Wss366 Boner #TimeTravelAuthors 07/29. proof/prove
“You may be seated,” Sir Sablé said. The Grand Master of the Templars’ voice was dignified, higher than one might expect, but the tone was that of someone accustomed to command. “Bishop Dreux, will you honor this gathering with a prayer?”
I recognized the priest he had called on as the person who’d challenged Sir Conrad earlier. Even though he was a bishop, he was clearly also a fighting man: strong, scarred; the bulk of his robes hinted at chain mail beneath. I didn’t understand the brief Latin prayer he led. It was a pity I hadn’t learned Latin at university.
While we prayed, Emily left my side, moving to the dais so she could hear what the rabbits were saying to Sir Sablé. It was a decision that would later #prove disastrous. A real #boner, as some of my cruder students might have said. (Why did these memories come back to me when I couldn’t follow up on them?)
Once the prayer had finished, the Grand Master addressed us. “You have been called here in the Lord’s name and shall be blessed for your piety…”
He continued in this vein for a while, and most of what he said wasn’t worth repeating. However, other parts of his speech had stunning implications.
- “Though unworthy, the Lord hath lifted me from the dust as our Lord Jesus did Mary Magdalene, and a heavenly host has vouchsafed me words. Today, I humbly bear their message for your ears.”
Behind him the rabbits made ironic bows that he couldn’t see.
- “As Saint Judas Iscariot sacrificed himself to bring about our Savior’s glorious act of redemption, we too are summoned to make the ultimate sacrifice, our honor. We may be reviled for our deeds, but we the faithful shall show the same devotion, to God’s will, Abraham did when the Lord commanded him to sacrifice his son. We will hold fast, knowing that our obedience is required to invoke the Third Coming, bringing a fiery end to this sinful race, Adam’s kin, and to call down the final judgment when the Lord’s hammer smites the world once again.”
A groan escaped me. For an instant I could see the Cretaceous–Paleogene fireball streaking across the sky, setting me ablaze. Fortunately, Sir Sablé’s speech had everyone enthralled, or perhaps they thought it was a gasp of wonder.
It was part intuition and part logic that led me to conclude that the Lapin Cabal intended to bring a meteor down on the world, as had happened in Yucatán. How or why I didn’t know. To this end, they recruited the gullible, the ambitious, and the truly wicked to do their bidding. The Templars, Illuminati, Nazis, and ICE-Nine were just examples of this.
The implications were staggering, and from Emily’s face, she recognized it too.
#TootFic #NMFic #TimeTravel #HistoricalFantasy #UrbanFantasy #Mythpunk #Serial #Slowburn #Templar #Templars
-
#TimeTravelingGhost EP 11: Post 120, 1191, The Castle of Nicosia (1 of 2 parts)
#Wss366 Boner #TimeTravelAuthors 07/29. proof/prove
“You may be seated,” Sir Sablé said. The Grand Master of the Templars’ voice was dignified, higher than one might expect, but the tone was that of someone accustomed to command. “Bishop Dreux, will you honor this gathering with a prayer?”
I recognized the priest he had called on as the person who’d challenged Sir Conrad earlier. Even though he was a bishop, he was clearly also a fighting man: strong, scarred; the bulk of his robes hinted at chain mail beneath. I didn’t understand the brief Latin prayer he led. It was a pity I hadn’t learned Latin at university.
While we prayed, Emily left my side, moving to the dais so she could hear what the rabbits were saying to Sir Sablé. It was a decision that would later #prove disastrous. A real #boner, as some of my cruder students might have said. (Why did these memories come back to me when I couldn’t follow up on them?)
Once the prayer had finished, the Grand Master addressed us. “You have been called here in the Lord’s name and shall be blessed for your piety…”
He continued in this vein for a while, and most of what he said wasn’t worth repeating. However, other parts of his speech had stunning implications.
- “Though unworthy, the Lord hath lifted me from the dust as our Lord Jesus did Mary Magdalene, and a heavenly host has vouchsafed me words. Today, I humbly bear their message for your ears.”
Behind him the rabbits made ironic bows that he couldn’t see.
- “As Saint Judas Iscariot sacrificed himself to bring about our Savior’s glorious act of redemption, we too are summoned to make the ultimate sacrifice, our honor. We may be reviled for our deeds, but we the faithful shall show the same devotion, to God’s will, Abraham did when the Lord commanded him to sacrifice his son. We will hold fast, knowing that our obedience is required to invoke the Third Coming, bringing a fiery end to this sinful race, Adam’s kin, and to call down the final judgment when the Lord’s hammer smites the world once again.”
A groan escaped me. For an instant I could see the Cretaceous–Paleogene fireball streaking across the sky, setting me ablaze. Fortunately, Sir Sablé’s speech had everyone enthralled, or perhaps they thought it was a gasp of wonder.
It was part intuition and part logic that led me to conclude that the Lapin Cabal intended to bring a meteor down on the world, as had happened in Yucatán. How or why I didn’t know. To this end, they recruited the gullible, the ambitious, and the truly wicked to do their bidding. The Templars, Illuminati, Nazis, and ICE-Nine were just examples of this.
The implications were staggering, and from Emily’s face, she recognized it too.
#TootFic #NMFic #TimeTravel #HistoricalFantasy #UrbanFantasy #Mythpunk #Serial #Slowburn #Templar #Templars
-
Bijou the #TimeTravelingGhost (2nd Edition)
EP 4: 1937, Gardner Island, Early Night
Careless wishes get messy results.
Tags: #TimeTravel #Fantasy #UrbanFantasy #HistoricalFantasy #LightNovel #Romance #Queer #Sappfic #Serial #AmeliaEarhart
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Bijou the #TimeTravelingGhost (2nd Edition)
EP 4: 1937, Gardner Island, Early Night
Careless wishes get messy results.
Tags: #TimeTravel #Fantasy #UrbanFantasy #HistoricalFantasy #LightNovel #Romance #Queer #Sappfic #Serial #AmeliaEarhart
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Bijou the #TimeTravelingGhost (2nd Edition)
EP 4: 1937, Gardner Island, Early Night
Careless wishes get messy results.
Tags: #TimeTravel #Fantasy #UrbanFantasy #HistoricalFantasy #LightNovel #Romance #Queer #Sappfic #Serial #AmeliaEarhart