#historicalfantasy — Public Fediverse posts

#TimeTravelingGhost EP 12: Post 133, 1,802,701 CE, Middlesex, UK

#Wss366 exodus #TimeTravelAuthors 9/11. Has your MC ever been in a fight?

The trip up to the mezzanine was tricky. In many places, the steps trembled under my weight, and in other spots they were missing. My heart was in my mouth when I had to jump over the gaps. Weena struggled even more, so I carried her over the holes. Each time, she buried her face in my chest, her eyes tightly shut.

At each stage, the fairies below laughed and clapped. A few of them tried following us, but turned back at the first obstacle.

In the end, we failed to reach the top. We stopped on a landing instead. Dust blanketed the floor, undisturbed for years. It wasn’t a pleasant place to camp, but at least it was safe.

Slumber evaded me when we lay down. It was almost as if I didn’t need it. I stared into the dark thinking for a long time, with Weena curled up around me. Finally, her warmth and the soft lullaby of her breathing, joined by the rustle of fairies below, lulled me to sleep.

I awoke to a rending scream. Next to me, Weena was trembling. “Mourloks,” she whimpered.

When I peered out into the room, it was too dark to see anything. “I wish I had a lantern,” I thought.

“Eye-yeeee!” I shrieked as a flaming branch appeared in my hand.

This was the second instance that something I wished for appeared. The last time it had happened behind my back. Since I hadn’t witnessed the clothes appear at the sphinx, I’d written it off as a mystery. This time there was no mistake; I had conjured a light from thin air. What was going on?

Feral howls brought me back to the present, and I looked over the railing. Below, I could make out pallid, mushroom-gray creatures holding unresisting fairies. Pandemonium broke out. The wee folk screamed in terror while the Morlocks howled in pain and averted their eyes from the light.

This was possibly the first time I’d ever fought, but I wouldn’t let monsters carry off any of the fae, no matter how pathetic they seemed. I hurled the burning brand among the loathsome creatures and wished for another torch, which I also threw. By the time I summoned the third flaming branch, the Morlocks had fled in a mad #exodus.

#TootFic #NMFic #TimeTravel #HistoricalFantasy #UrbanFantasy #Mythpunk #Serial #Sapphic #Slowburn

#TimeTravelingGhost EP 12: Post 132, 1,802,701 CE, Middlesex, UK

#Wss366 Cain #TimeTravelAuthors 9/10. Whatever

“Coom,” my strange little companion said, pulling me toward the tables. We sat down cross-legged. If Emily had been there, I would have called it “criss-cross applesauce” to mess with her.

There it was again! That name! Who was Emily? She must be important.

The brilliant indigo eyes of a woman surfaced in my mind. She was sipping soup with her face hidden behind ivy on the…

Then it was gone again.

“Hurburth?” Weena said, poking me in the ribs.

I smiled at her and looked around. We were sitting near the edge of the room. Their clothes were either drabber or brighter than those at the further tables. Some wore wrinkled or stained items. Still others displayed faces painted with berry dye or colored mud. One had a bandaged hand, and a strawberry birthmark marred another’s cheek. From the way the fairies avoided him, you’d have thought he bore the mark of Cain. And then there was Weena, with her fire-scarred face.

“Misfits and outcasts,” I said.

Emily… I mean, Weena.

She piled fruit in front of me, and I ate it absentmindedly as I studied my environment.

The little people’s manners were atrocious. When they finished something, they tossed the remains on the floor. They grabbed at the food and threw it at each other.

My companion carefully watched me eat and imitated me. Unlike the others, who laughed and talked like unattended kindergartners, she chewed silently and only spoke when her mouth was empty.

Eventually, she stopped, her brows knit, and touched one of my breasts. “Not Hurburth?”

“No, not Hurburth.” I pointed to myself. “Henrietta.”

“Henreetaa?”

“Henny.”

“Henny,” she repeated, getting it correct.

I nodded.

“Henny, luke Weena?”

“Luke?” I thought. “Luke? Oh, ‘like!’”

“Like,” I said, pointing first at myself and then at her. “Henny, like Weena.” I spread my hands wide.

When we finished eating, it was growing dark inside the building.

“Come,” I said and led her to the stairs leading to the platform.

They were in poor shape, with broken treads and gaps. I wondered if it would be safer to face the Morlocks than to climb.

#TootFic #NMFic #TimeTravel #HistoricalFantasy #UrbanFantasy #Mythpunk #Serial #Sapphic #Slowburn

#TimeTravelingGhost EP 12: Post 132, 1,802,701 CE, Middlesex, UK

#Wss366 Cain #TimeTravelAuthors 9/10. Whatever

“Coom,” my strange little companion said, pulling me toward the tables. We sat down cross-legged. If Emily had been there, I would have called it “criss-cross applesauce” to mess with her.

There it was again! That name! Who was Emily? She must be important.

The brilliant indigo eyes of a woman surfaced in my mind. She was sipping soup with her face hidden behind ivy on the…

Then it was gone again.

“Hurburth?” Weena said, poking me in the ribs.

I smiled at her and looked around. We were sitting near the edge of the room. Their clothes were either drabber or brighter than those at the further tables. Some wore wrinkled or stained items. Still others displayed faces painted with berry dye or colored mud. One had a bandaged hand, and a strawberry birthmark marred another’s cheek. From the way the fairies avoided him, you’d have thought he bore the mark of Cain. And then there was Weena, with her fire-scarred face.

“Misfits and outcasts,” I said.

Emily… I mean, Weena.

She piled fruit in front of me, and I ate it absentmindedly as I studied my environment.

The little people’s manners were atrocious. When they finished something, they tossed the remains on the floor. They grabbed at the food and threw it at each other.

My companion carefully watched me eat and imitated me. Unlike the others, who laughed and talked like unattended kindergartners, she chewed silently and only spoke when her mouth was empty.

Eventually, she stopped, her brows knit, and touched one of my breasts. “Not Hurburth?”

“No, not Hurburth.” I pointed to myself. “Henrietta.”

“Henreetaa?”

“Henny.”

“Henny,” she repeated, getting it correct.

I nodded.

“Henny, luke Weena?”

“Luke?” I thought. “Luke? Oh, ‘like!’”

“Like,” I said, pointing first at myself and then at her. “Henny, like Weena.” I spread my hands wide.

When we finished eating, it was growing dark inside the building.

“Come,” I said and led her to the stairs leading to the platform.

They were in poor shape, with broken treads and gaps. I wondered if it would be safer to face the Morlocks than to climb.

#TootFic #NMFic #TimeTravel #HistoricalFantasy #UrbanFantasy #Mythpunk #Serial #Sapphic #Slowburn

#TimeTravelingGhost EP 12: Post 132, 1,802,701 CE, Middlesex, UK

#Wss366 Cain #TimeTravelAuthors 9/10. Whatever

“Coom,” my strange little companion said, pulling me toward the tables. We sat down cross-legged. If Emily had been there, I would have called it “criss-cross applesauce” to mess with her.

There it was again! That name! Who was Emily? She must be important.

The brilliant indigo eyes of a woman surfaced in my mind. She was sipping soup with her face hidden behind ivy on the…

Then it was gone again.

“Hurburth?” Weena said, poking me in the ribs.

I smiled at her and looked around. We were sitting near the edge of the room. Their clothes were either drabber or brighter than those at the further tables. Some wore wrinkled or stained items. Still others displayed faces painted with berry dye or colored mud. One had a bandaged hand, and a strawberry birthmark marred another’s cheek. From the way the fairies avoided him, you’d have thought he bore the mark of Cain. And then there was Weena, with her fire-scarred face.

“Misfits and outcasts,” I said.

Emily… I mean, Weena.

She piled fruit in front of me, and I ate it absentmindedly as I studied my environment.

The little people’s manners were atrocious. When they finished something, they tossed the remains on the floor. They grabbed at the food and threw it at each other.

My companion carefully watched me eat and imitated me. Unlike the others, who laughed and talked like unattended kindergartners, she chewed silently and only spoke when her mouth was empty.

Eventually, she stopped, her brows knit, and touched one of my breasts. “Not Hurburth?”

“No, not Hurburth.” I pointed to myself. “Henrietta.”

“Henreetaa?”

“Henny.”

“Henny,” she repeated, getting it correct.

I nodded.

“Henny, luke Weena?”

“Luke?” I thought. “Luke? Oh, ‘like!’”

“Like,” I said, pointing first at myself and then at her. “Henny, like Weena.” I spread my hands wide.

When we finished eating, it was growing dark inside the building.

“Come,” I said and led her to the stairs leading to the platform.

They were in poor shape, with broken treads and gaps. I wondered if it would be safer to face the Morlocks than to climb.

#TootFic #NMFic #TimeTravel #HistoricalFantasy #UrbanFantasy #Mythpunk #Serial #Sapphic #Slowburn

#TimeTravelingGhost EP 12: Post 132, 1,802,701 CE, Middlesex, UK

#Wss366 Cain #TimeTravelAuthors 9/10. Whatever

“Coom,” my strange little companion said, pulling me toward the tables. We sat down cross-legged. If Emily had been there, I would have called it “criss-cross applesauce” to mess with her.

There it was again! That name! Who was Emily? She must be important.

The brilliant indigo eyes of a woman surfaced in my mind. She was sipping soup with her face hidden behind ivy on the…

Then it was gone again.

“Hurburth?” Weena said, poking me in the ribs.

I smiled at her and looked around. We were sitting near the edge of the room. Their clothes were either drabber or brighter than those at the further tables. Some wore wrinkled or stained items. Still others displayed faces painted with berry dye or colored mud. One had a bandaged hand, and a strawberry birthmark marred another’s cheek. From the way the fairies avoided him, you’d have thought he bore the mark of #Cain. And then there was Weena, with her fire-scarred face.

“Misfits and outcasts,” I said.

Emily… I mean, Weena.

She piled fruit in front of me, and I ate it absentmindedly as I studied my environment.

The little people’s manners were atrocious. When they finished something, they tossed the remains on the floor. They grabbed at the food and threw it at each other.

My companion carefully watched me eat and imitated me. Unlike the others, who laughed and talked like unattended kindergartners, she chewed silently and only spoke when her mouth was empty.

Eventually, she stopped, her brows knit, and touched one of my breasts. “Not Hurburth?”

“No, not Hurburth.” I pointed to myself. “Henrietta.”

“Henreetaa?”

“Henny.”

“Henny,” she repeated, getting it correct.

I nodded.

“Henny, luke Weena?”

“Luke?” I thought. “Luke? Oh, ‘like!’”

“Like,” I said, pointing first at myself and then at her. “Henny, like Weena.” I spread my hands wide.

When we finished eating, it was growing dark inside the building.

“Come,” I said and led her to the stairs leading to the platform.

They were in poor shape, with broken treads and gaps. I wondered if it would be safer to face the Morlocks than to climb.

#TootFic #NMFic #TimeTravel #HistoricalFantasy #UrbanFantasy #Mythpunk #Serial #Sapphic #Slowburn

#TimeTravelingGhost EP 12: Post 131, 1,802,701 CE, Middlesex, UK

#Wss366 Register #ScribesAndMakers Share something you've been working on this month. #TimeTravelAuthors 09/9. laugh

Weena led me into the building through an arch decorated with elaborate carvings of dancing nymphs and satyrs. Like everything else, time had left them battered. The building’s inside was the same: a huge vaulted chamber hung with brown tapestries so faded that any patterns had long since vanished. The floor was constructed of slabs of a metal resembling aluminum. While free of tarnish, countless feet had worn deep channels along the fairy folk’s paths. Raised tables of polished granite ran the length of the room. At only half a meter tall, they were an ideal height for wee people to kneel and eat the fruit heaped upon them.

Silken pillows clustered in the center of the chamber between the tables. I remember from “The Time Machine” that this is where the fairies slept huddled together. I shivered as it #registered that this was also where the Morlocks selected their meals from the helpless fae.

A broad mezzanine ran beneath the stained-glass windows. I would later discover that dilapidated stairs ascended to it.

I pointed to the balcony and spoke to Weena in pidgin English. “Sleep, you, me.” I used sign language to help.

She #laughed, nodded, and said, “Hurburth, foony.”

#TootFic #NMFic #TimeTravel #HistoricalFantasy #UrbanFantasy #Mythpunk #Serial #Sapphic #Slowburn

#TimeTravelingGhost EP 12: Post 131, 1,802,701 CE, Middlesex, UK

#Wss366 Register #ScribesAndMakers Share something you've been working on this month. #TimeTravelAuthors 09/9. laugh

Weena led me into the building through an arch decorated with elaborate carvings of dancing nymphs and satyrs. Like everything else, time had left them battered. The building’s inside was the same: a huge vaulted chamber hung with brown tapestries so faded that any patterns had long since vanished. The floor was constructed of slabs of a metal resembling aluminum. While free of tarnish, countless feet had worn deep channels along the fairy folk’s paths. Raised tables of polished granite ran the length of the room. At only half a meter tall, they were an ideal height for wee people to kneel and eat the fruit heaped upon them.

Silken pillows clustered in the center of the chamber between the tables. I remember from “The Time Machine” that this is where the fairies slept huddled together. I shivered as it #registered that this was also where the Morlocks selected their meals from the helpless fae.

A broad mezzanine ran beneath the stained-glass windows. I would later discover that dilapidated stairs ascended to it.

I pointed to the balcony and spoke to Weena in pidgin English. “Sleep, you, me.” I used sign language to help.

She #laughed, nodded, and said, “Hurburth, foony.”

#TootFic #NMFic #TimeTravel #HistoricalFantasy #UrbanFantasy #Mythpunk #Serial #Sapphic #Slowburn

#TimeTravelingGhost EP 12: Post 131, 1,802,701 CE, Middlesex, UK

#Wss366 Register #ScribesAndMakers Share something you've been working on this month. #TimeTravelAuthors 09/9. laugh

Weena led me into the building through an arch decorated with elaborate carvings of dancing nymphs and satyrs. Like everything else, time had left them battered. The building’s inside was the same: a huge vaulted chamber hung with brown tapestries so faded that any patterns had long since vanished. The floor was constructed of slabs of a metal resembling aluminum. While free of tarnish, countless feet had worn deep channels along the fairy folk’s paths. Raised tables of polished granite ran the length of the room. At only half a meter tall, they were an ideal height for wee people to kneel and eat the fruit heaped upon them.

Silken pillows clustered in the center of the chamber between the tables. I remember from “The Time Machine” that this is where the fairies slept huddled together. I shivered as it #registered that this was also where the Morlocks selected their meals from the helpless fae.

A broad mezzanine ran beneath the stained-glass windows. I would later discover that dilapidated stairs ascended to it.

I pointed to the balcony and spoke to Weena in pidgin English. “Sleep, you, me.” I used sign language to help.

She #laughed, nodded, and said, “Hurburth, foony.”

#TootFic #NMFic #TimeTravel #HistoricalFantasy #UrbanFantasy #Mythpunk #Serial #Sapphic #Slowburn

#TimeTravelingGhost EP 12: Post 131, 1,802,701 CE, Middlesex, UK

#Wss366 Register #ScribesAndMakers Share something you've been working on this month. #TimeTravelAuthors 09/9. laugh

Weena led me into the building through an arch decorated with elaborate carvings of dancing nymphs and satyrs. Like everything else, time had left them battered. The building’s inside was the same: a huge vaulted chamber hung with brown tapestries so faded that any patterns had long since vanished. The floor was constructed of slabs of a metal resembling aluminum. While free of tarnish, countless feet had worn deep channels along the fairy folk’s paths. Raised tables of polished granite ran the length of the room. At only half a meter tall, they were an ideal height for wee people to kneel and eat the fruit heaped upon them.

Silken pillows clustered in the center of the chamber between the tables. I remember from “The Time Machine” that this is where the fairies slept huddled together. I shivered as it #registered that this was also where the Morlocks selected their meals from the helpless fae.

A broad mezzanine ran beneath the stained-glass windows. I would later discover that dilapidated stairs ascended to it.

I pointed to the balcony and spoke to Weena in pidgin English. “Sleep, you, me.” I used sign language to help.

She #laughed, nodded, and said, “Hurburth, foony.”

#TootFic #NMFic #TimeTravel #HistoricalFantasy #UrbanFantasy #Mythpunk #Serial #Sapphic #Slowburn

#TimeTravelingGhost EP 12: Post 131, 1,802,701 CE, Middlesex, UK

#Wss366 Register #ScribesAndMakers Share something you've been working on this month. #TimeTravelAuthors 09/9. laugh

Weena led me into the building through an arch decorated with elaborate carvings of dancing nymphs and satyrs. Like everything else, time had left them battered. The building’s inside was the same: a huge vaulted chamber hung with brown tapestries so faded that any patterns had long since vanished. The floor was constructed of slabs of a metal resembling aluminum. While free of tarnish, countless feet had worn deep channels along the fairy folk’s paths. Raised tables of polished granite ran the length of the room. At only half a meter tall, they were an ideal height for wee people to kneel and eat the fruit heaped upon them.

Silken pillows clustered in the center of the chamber between the tables. I remember from “The Time Machine” that this is where the fairies slept huddled together. I shivered as it #registered that this was also where the Morlocks selected their meals from the helpless fae.

A broad mezzanine ran beneath the stained-glass windows. I would later discover that dilapidated stairs ascended to it.

I pointed to the balcony and spoke to Weena in pidgin English. “Sleep, you, me.” I used sign language to help.

She #laughed, nodded, and said, “Hurburth, foony.”

#TootFic #NMFic #TimeTravel #HistoricalFantasy #UrbanFantasy #Mythpunk #Serial #Sapphic #Slowburn

The demo of "Spirit of the Camp" is going up, slowly. It's available on my website. Feedback is welcome.

The Itch.io page will be public when the description, screenshots, page design, and devlog are completely together. No promises when that'll be.

falsfiction.neocities.org/games /sotc/

#HistoricalFantasy #Mystery #NarrativeGame

The demo of "Spirit of the Camp" is going up, slowly. It's available on my website. Feedback is welcome.

The Itch.io page will be public when the description, screenshots, page design, and devlog are completely together. No promises when that'll be.

falsfiction.neocities.org/games /sotc/

#HistoricalFantasy #Mystery #NarrativeGame

The demo of "Spirit of the Camp" is going up, slowly. It's available on my website. Feedback is welcome.

The Itch.io page will be public when the description, screenshots, page design, and devlog are completely together. No promises when that'll be.

falsfiction.neocities.org/games /sotc/

#HistoricalFantasy #Mystery #NarrativeGame

Bijou the #TimeTravelingGhost (2nd Edition)

Chapter 19 # EP 6: Late Jurassic Era, Lapin Island—The Lagoon

Holy moly! A pyramid of solid pink coral!

PIXIV Link:
AO3 Link:

Art by: Mai-sensei

Tags: #TimeTravel #Fantasy #UrbanFantasy #HistoricalFantasy #LightNovel #Romance #Queer #Sappfic #Serial

#TimeTravelingGhost EP 12: Post 130, 1,802,701 CE, Middlesex, UK

#Wss366 Tall #TimeTravelAuthors 09/5. Plant Grow

The fairy dance ended as suddenly as it had started. One flute cut off mid-verse, and the other trailed off right afterwards. No one seemed alarmed or surprised. Most stopped in their tracks, while a few continued prancing for a few moments more before joining the rest and slipped away.

Weena tugged on my arm and gestured at the building behind the trees. “Coome. Hoomee. Eeat.”

I nodded, and we started toward the woods.

The whole way, my new friend held my hand and babbled to me in a mixture of melodic syllables and fractured English. After asking a few questions, I realized I wouldn’t learn anything useful. She either didn’t know the answers, couldn’t communicate them, or I failed to make myself understood. As such, I retreated into my thoughts.

I considered what I’d learned. I knew a fair amount about this world, or at least H.G. Wells’s theories. Meeting the fairies, for that is what I still thought of them as, had been fortunate. If I had followed the path, I might have run into the Morlocks. But about myself, I remained ignorant except for what short flashbacks had shown me.

It was beyond frustrating that I remembered a “fictional” book more clearly than my own history.

The woods soon ended, and we emerged into a wide glen with an enormous ruined mansion in the center. Lichen grew thick on its walls, and time had shattered its #tall stained-glass windows. The remaining geometric panes had slumped like wax candles left in the sun. I doubted the fairies had built it. Instead, some forgotten civilization must have done so.

That thought offered a glimmer of hope. Remnants of that race could still exist. If I found them, I might learn more.

Returning to my survey, I noted #plants heavy with berries, small fruits, and pea-like pods growing throughout the glen. There was no sense of their being planted by the fairy folk. The herbage sprouted in random swatches or alone, just as the wind had scattered their seeds. Amidst this lush abundance, a wide variety of melon vines snaked along the ground. Here too was an untended bounty of yellow, green, and dappled gourds. At the forest's edge grew trees laden with red, purple, and topaz globes. It was no surprise that the protagonist of H.G. Wells’s story had mistaken this for a utopia at first.

#TootFic #NMFic #TimeTravel #HistoricalFantasy #UrbanFantasy #Mythpunk #Serial #Sapphic #Slowburn

GMBC ep06 - The Great Hippo Heist: Exploring Sarah Gailey's Alternate History, River of Teeth #saragailey #americanhippo #althistory #heist #hippos #tasteofmarrow #historicalfantasy #cowboys #queerlit #queersff #novella #books #ttrpgpodcast https://www.k-squareproductions.com/gmbc

#TimeTravelingGhost EP 12: Post 125, 1,802,701 CE, Middlesex, UK

#Wss366 Tremor #TimeTravelAuthors 08/17. Does anyone travel to the future? What did they (or would they) think of it?

I made my way back into the meadow at the forest’s edge and sat down where I could see both the woodland path and the trampled circle below. Strawberries gleamed in the nearby grass, and I idly picked a few.

When I sampled one, a tart sweetness spread across my tongue, reminiscent of wild Écouves berries.

The Écouves Forest; that was an odd detail to remember. Even though I had forgotten my past, I still had access to a lot of random information. I understood that was common for people with amnesia.

The fruit was truly delicious, better than ones I’d had at fancy restaurants, like on the Hindenburg.

I stopped, and a #tremor passed through me: another memory! It was just a brief glimpse, but I could extrapolate from it. The Hindenburg crashed in 1937. I didn’t know what the current date was, but nothing like the sphinx had existed in the history I “knew.” This must be the future. Given the age of the monolith, it was the far future!

None of this made sense. Maybe none of it was real. Was I a psychotic patient in a mental ward?

I looked around for any sign that I was hallucinating. I pinched myself. It was a cliché test, but the pain reassured me. My chaotic memories were bizarre, but the world was stable, unlike a delusion or dream. The majestic trees appeared ageless, yet otherwise mundane. There was no sinister overlay to the oaks, ash, and pines. The grass smelled fresh and green. A wind with the subtle scent of summer brushed my cheek. It seemed idyllic. Nothing like the ravings of a mad person. Rather lonely, though.

I gave up on my speculation and followed the flow of my thoughts. I wished Emily were there with me. Yes, Emily! A vague image of a woman arose. She had bobbed, short, black hair, brilliant blue eyes, and a slight Asian cast to her features.

“Emily, Emily, Emily,” I said to myself. Was she my girlfriend, partner, or coworker? Whoever she was, she was important to me.

The last strawberry went into my mouth. She would have loved these. I almost heard her say, “They’re peachy; the cat’s pajamas.” Her deep-timbered voice blended with the sound of flutes.

At first, I thought I’d imagined the music. But no, the wind from the woods was carrying it to me. I wasn’t alone!

#TootFic #NMFic #TimeTravel #HistoricalFantasy #UrbanFantasy #Mythpunk #Serial #Sapphic #Slowburn

#gamemastersbookclub Explores the Genres! Historical Fantasy #historical #fantasy #historicalfantasy #AltHistory #books #booksky
Siren Queen - Nghi Vo
Brooms - Jasmine Walls
Ring Shout - P. Djeli Clark
A Marvelous Light - Freya Marske
OOku: The Inner Chambers - Fumi Yoshinaga

#TimeTravelingGhost EP 8: Post 82: 2025 Arkham

#Wss366 Irish & #StPatricksDay #TimeTravelAuthors 03/17. Patient or patience in your story

Rather than leave the way we had come, I decided to time-trip out. The less information we gave our foes, the better. Apparently, they knew we could time-travel, but we could hold dematerialization as a trump card.

I took Emily’s hand and thought about our next destination. “Take us to my university office on the day the pink rat arrives from the future.”

The familiar sensations of time-tripping took over, and we appeared in a small academic office. Green streamers hung from the window, and a mega plushy papillon wearing an emerald top hat sat in the guest chair. A small plastic Buddha rested on the desk next to a picture of a young woman and me. Behind them stood the brick wall of an #Irish pub. The picture triggered a sense of profound sadness, but no memories.

Emily burst out laughing when she saw the clothes I’d manifested. “Nice duds. Is that what the daring avant-garde wear in your time? Absurd, but it’s charming in its own way.”

I pulled the floppy hat down and the N95 mask up higher, hoping they might hide how red my cheeks were. They probably matched the large cherry-red sunglasses I was sporting. I’d considered wearing a hijab but was unsure about the cultural implications of a nonbeliever wearing one. “I told you I don’t want people to see two Professor Henrietta Dubois’s.”

“Professor Tweedledee and Dum,” Emily joked.

I tipped up my glasses and rolled my eyes. She laughed.

“And this must be a young Tweedle-dumb,” she said, looking at the picture. “You look happy.

She stopped, tapped a signature, and said, “Who's Sarah Lockwell?” The amusement on her face had faded.

“I don’t remember.” My response wasn’t an evasion. I truly didn’t remember.

“Shame,” she said, but it didn’t sound as if she meant it.

Next, she walked around the desk, materialized her hand, and opened the bottom drawer. “Brandy. You were a bit of a lush, weren’t you, Professor Dumb?”

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“I’m a spy, sleuthing.”

“Well, be careful. You’ll get caught snooping.”

“You’re the only one who can see me.”

“Right, I forgot.”

After that, I sat #patiently on the edge of the guest chair while Emily continued to investigate. “Faustus Pakt, Liber Juratus, Pompilius’ Spiegel,” she read as she browsed the books on a shelf. “You had quite an interest in Faust and medieval grimoires.”

Having no memory of my prior reading, I didn’t comment.

Emily had moved back to the desk when the door opened, interrupting her investigation. In the corridor stood an outraged Professor Dubois, carrying a pink rat in a cage.

Medieval Grimoires:

#TootFic #MicroFiction #NMFic #UrbanFantasy #Mythpunk #TimeTravel #HistoricalFantasy #Series #SaintPatricksDay

Trying my hand at live-streaming on St Patrick's Day, with a live test of a mod for #HeartsOfIron4 that turns Ireland into "Dwarven Ireland" from a #historicalFantasy / #dieselpunk series I'm working on.

2PM GMT at https://www.youtube.com/@aceade/

#gaming #hoi4 #StPatricksDay #gameMods #historicalGaming

#TimeTravelingGhost EP 7 Post 78: 12 May 1999: London

#Wss366 Bowels #MastoPrompt Winsome #TimeTravelAuthors 03/07. Quiet/loud

Now that we had seen the sights, I caught a cab to the British Museum, while Emily flew overhead. An insipid ballad, “Swear It Again,” played #loudly on the radio. So I tuned it out along with the heavily accented East-Indian voice of the driver offering me additional ride services. Instead, I manifested a cell phone and played with the browser. I had forgotten how janky that experience was in the late 90s.

When we arrived at the museum, I showed Emily the phone and the internet. She was suitably impressed and offered me a #winsome smile. It wasn’t flying cars, but she was thrilled.

Since it was a Thursday morning, the museum was #quiet when we arrived. We hurried through the lightly populated rooms to the archaeological section, where I spent most of my time. Some items, such as German World War II artifacts and Crusader swords, made me uneasy. I couldn’t tell whether that was due to their supernatural aura or my own biases.

The Sutton Hoo exhibition, however, was wonderful. As I gazed at the treasures, fragmented memories surfaced of seeing them as a young girl.

At some point, Emily and I separated, with me exploring the public exhibitions and her roaming areas unavailable to visitors. I had just begun examining some Chinese jade artifacts when she appeared.

“Follow me,” she said.

“What did you find?”

“You were right. There's more here than meets the eye. Come on, you'll understand when you see it.”

We hurried through a door marked "Private," down a set of stairs, and through a maze of corridors. I wasn’t sure how Emily had found anything here. Finally, in the #bowels of the museum, we arrived at a heavy metal door.

The Anglo-Saxon ship burial at Sutton Hoo:

#TootFic #MicroFiction #NMFic #UrbanFantasy #TimeTravel #HistoricalFantasy