#nmmp — Public Fediverse posts

#wss366 #MastoPrompt

Return to the FATE GEAR

Chapter 11: It’s life, Jim—but not as we know it

#FanFiction #OthersidePicnic #FateGear #StarTrek

Things grew quieter after Beni announced what was for dinner. There were a few grumbles in the mess about the half-ration of grog, but the stew was warm and filling. It was much better than the maggoty biscuits, #spoiled potatoes, or the greasy #quagmire of pea soup they were used to. All-in-all the FATE GEAR’s crew was content.

In unison, the crew let their cutlery fall and sighed in pure pleasure. Benimori had become a favorite—(not as a dish, but as a cook).

Toriko had earned their respect by decking the purser for pinching her butt. (The purser may have mistaken her for a dish—the succulent kind, not the radish; perhaps a peach, a port belle, or a topgallant lass.)

Sorawo, on the other hand, was close to being keelhauled for the number of times she spilled stew on someone.

It wasn’t her fault; the FATE GEAR rolled suddenly every time her ladle was in midair.

(“That be fer yer cracks about me last time ye were here,”) the ship muttered. (“Think ye be a pirate? Ye’re nothing but a mess hall horny toad.”)

No one dared correct the ship, reminding it that this was a steampunk vessel, not a B-Western prairie schooner. Any of the crew who crossed the FATE GEAR were spoiling for trouble.

Meal done, the crew filed out onto the deck as a carousel whistle piped, “All hands on deck.”

Above them glowered a planet smoking in the sun’s heat. And beyond that was a black-hole, its amoebic edges undulating, as though lifted from a steerage-quality scifi film.

(“It’s life, Jim—but not as we know it,”) the FATE GEAR announced in a thick Glaswegian burr.

“That’s enough out of you, Scotty,” Yuri typed. “This be pulp steampunk, not Star Trek. Now hoist the gens—we’re gonna need a hunnert knots an’ more to clear Mercury’s stern, or she’ll drag us into her maw!”

(“I’m givin’ her all she’s got, Cap’n!” the ship retorted. “But the etheric coils are about ready to burst their corsets!”)

Sorawo overheard Nana grumble, “We don’t have etheric coils, and the corsets are just for show.”

She sympathized until Nana turned her evil eye on the Otherside duo and vented her ire on them. “Get to yer positions, you scurvy bilge-rats,” pointing to the rigging high above.

“Aye, Aye, Ma’ma. Beam us up, Scotty,” Toriko quipped.

Sorawo kicked her in the shins. “Pirates is bad enough; don’t go mixing in Trek-ese.”

#TootFic #Serial #NMPrompts #NMV366 #NMMP
#UraPi #Steampunk #Pirates #Metal #JMetal #Satire #ReturnToTheFateGear #NMRTTFG
@fanfiction

Princess (Wind Head) 王女様（風頭）

Mao Rescues Mia (猫救助ミーア)

#FanFiction #TheApothecaryDiaries x #TearmoonEmpire

*** Maomao ***

The girl landed with a thump. Maomao noted the unusual, fluffy riding outfit the woman wore. “An excellent choice for a novice rider,” she said to the small #arched stems of the “Yín Yáng Huò” she was examining, its anchor-shaped leaves faintly brushing her #shin. “The question is, did the bulky outfit work?” If the woman had been hurt, helping her would be a lot of trouble; however, didn’t Mao have a duty to help her?

It was a question to consider seriously. Her father had followed his conscience, and look where that got him—the tendons removed from his knee for doing his best to save a baby of imperial birth

She sighed. As much as it pained her, helping was the right thing and probably wouldn’t have such dire consequences. Parin would have to make do with the “Raunchy Goat Medicine”—as Parin called it—the apothecary had already gathered.

Rain pattered around her, its rhythm deepening as she neared the fallen woman. The wind sighed low in the grass. If Mao had been superstitious, she would have thought it said, “You’ll be sorry.”

The day had begun badly and was getting worse. First, she’d been called out on mysterious business in the country. Next, the carriage in which she had been riding had thrown a wheel, and now this woman. The rain; however, didn’t bother her. She was hoping to spot Zhu Ling, Fang Feng, or Tu Fu Ling. She preferred to dig them when the soil was soft after a rain. The last of those was always popular at her shop, a sovereign cure for men’s sores of shame.

It might be a profitable day. She had already found some Mu Tong along the road. And yes, she was sure it wasn’t Guan Mu Tong; only a novice would make that mistake.

As the young apothecary approached as the woman sat up. “Are you hurt?” she asked.

The woman paid no mind, looking after her horse. “I can’t believe a horse betrayed me.”

“Why the woman wasn’t thrown more often, Mao asked herself. Considering her supine riding posture, she did not seem an experienced rider. Instead of saying that, she asked again, “Are you hurt? If not, I have herbs to gather.”

“I’m fine. But thank you for asking,” the woman replied.

Mao studied her. Her smile was innocent. She was healthy with ample flesh, a surplus even, clearly not poor. One didn’t get that weight on a poverty diet unless you were ill. Her padded clothes were unusual. She resembled a chimera: part human and part sheep. They were well-tailored and had properly protected the woman.

Well, if she was alright, Mao could get on with her herb gathering. As soon as they repaired the carriage, she would need to leave.

Part 1 of 8: To be continued.

Sequel to: "The Norns" https://www.pixiv.net/novel/series/14017710

#TootFic #Serial #NMPrompts #NMV366 #NMMP
#薬屋のひとりごと #ApothecaryDiaries
#LightNovel #Manga #Anime #Fantasy #botany #SliceOfLife