The Imaginarium

Soyeah, I have a pony now. Swing made him for me!

I wrote this story in order to introduce him to the Snowtown canon, where katter!Sor goes off to play.

Enjoy!

***

The Lazarus Problem:

The Katters had a problem.

Her problem was small and fairly round and red. It had a tan patch on its forehead and glittery eyes. Four hooves, and a black and red mane, and a long black tail.

It had a name too. Lazarus. Lazarus the -she hissed at the mere thought- the pony.

If it had been just a pony in general, at the pony farm or independently owned, there wouldn't have been a problem. It's not like she harboured any specific animosity against ponies in general. Just this one specifically.

Because this one, this pony, belonged to Sor.

***

Sor had procured the pony a week earlier, refusing to give any information on where or how she had gotten it. It's not like it really mattered -if someone had sold it to her, The Katters would wreck their business. If it had been a gift, she would kill the giver. No, the Katters didn't care where it was from.

She cared where it was going to. Pony hell, or heaven, or purgatory, or wherever dead damn ponies went. Katters was going to kill this damn thing, and prove to Sor once and for all that she could NOT HAVE A PONY.

She was going to kill it. Hell, she *had* killed it. One small problem --the fucking thing just wouldn't die.

***

She had started by shooting it. When that hadn't had any lasting effect, she had snapped the things neck. Twice, even. She had followed that up by hanging the damn thing, but as soon as Sor got it down, the pony had been back to its nefarious living ways. Kat's most recent attempt was to sprinkle poison into the pony's food, but all THAT had achieved was Sor moving the makeshift stable to somewhere more secret --in rather a huffy manner, too.

So the problem remained. Sor had a pony. And it was alive. This could simply just not be.

The Katters cracked her knuckles. Good. A challenge. She *loved* a good challenge...

( Fox Run --the beginning, and part of the second section )

*************

Fox Run is a story based on a dream. It's not meant to be a BDSM analogy, I swear.

I think what it's going to be is a story about revolution. It's also not meant to be a racism analogy, though it's probably going to sound a lot like that. I don't think the sub population are going to demand civil right as much as realize that they're able to have them.

One thing I am pleased about the story thus far, and I hope you noticed, is that the horses master refers to subs as raceanimals, not subs. This is pretty much unheard of kindness --the master population knows damn well that subs are intelligent and sapient, and if they choose, they can talk to them, they just don't. Subs are lesser beings. *Everyone* knows that.

As an interesting side note, that horse is possibly the only named sub --I haven't gotten far enough for him to ask Fox what her name is, and to tell her that his name is Hercules. Both will be surprised by the other's answer --Hercules forgets that most subs are not treated like people, as he is, and Fox is utterly boggled by the idea that a sub would be referred to by a name and not a species.

None of the above actually occurred in the dream. The dream was strictly a portion of a race.

Races in the world of Fox Run are a Very Big Deal. Each race takes place between one each of a pig, a fox, and a horse. Somehow, this is fair --horses are not as powerful in Fox Run as they are on Earth, I think, and the racetrack always goes both through flatlands, where pigs have an advantage (apparently pigs are *very* fast on flat land) and through woods, where foxes have an advantage, due to their agility. I do not know what sort of terrain horses have an advantage on yet, but the course will go through some of that too.

Fox (as I call her, but of course that's not her real name) is one of the best racefoxes in the area, however large it may be. She is nearly as fast as some pigs, and can swim almost as well as a horse (I think water is where horses are strongest.) And she is very, *very* good at climbing. I know this direct from my dream --I/she had to climb a ninety degree section of path, digging my/her claws into the mud to pull my/herself up.

Fox is unnamed, officially establishing that as a trope in my total sorcy!canon. The quintessential example is the heroine of Royal Blue Eyes, who is neither named nor described anywhere in the story. I keep flirting with the idea of making the RBE heroine gender ambiguous as well, but the pentultimate murder in that story currently relies on her being female. The two stories don't actually have anything in common besides that fact, I just thought it was interesting that I have such a thing for unnamed leads.

The only other thing I feel like saying right now is a note on Communicating. All beings in Fox Run can Communicate with one another --essentially just your generic speaking mind to mind. Communication is marked by double colons before and after the words Communicated, ::like so::.

When speaking to your own species, all species speak normally, with the standard quotation marks. If something is marked by just quotation marks, it means only members of that species can hear it.

When talking to a group of both your own and other species, all species use a combination of normal speech and Communication. That is marked by a colon followed by a quotation mark before the words, and the reverse after. Hercules's master commonly uses this method of speech, another thing that marks him as unusual. Usually this sort of communication only occurs in groups of assorted subs.

I think that's all for now.

K.Whimsy
MOOP!

Hey kiddos, it's shitty poetry day here at the Kattales!

Well, not just poetry. In short, I'm cleaning through my giant evil stack of papers, and I've decided to try and whittle it down to a reasonable number, by recycling things liberally. But some of the things I want to recycle have words I'd like to save. And if I'm typing them up anyways, I might as well post them here, yeah?

[Authors notes in brackets. Warning, I left all grammar and spelling as it was on the original. Considering some of this dates back to middle school and perhaps earlier, this may have rendered things unreadable on my part. We'll see.]

*************

Dear Emily

How is my duckling? Please tell your mother that I am very sorry I had to leave. I have joined an actors troupe and we will be visiting Ztotzty in a week. Wanna come? I'm dying to see how old you've gotten.

Hugs and Love
Ar

[This was a bit from a sci-fi story I was writing. I have no idea how you pronounce the word 'Ztotzy']

*************

Once upon a time a long long time ago there was a beautiful, old crane who lived on a mountain. the old crane was very lonley because she had no friends except the wind and that made her extreemly sad. One day when the wind asked her why she was so sad she just looked at the wind and said that you were great company but she missed childrens laughter. And that gave the wind an idea. The next day the wind did not come to see her and she started to cry. She cried until suddenly she hered the beautiful music only cranes can make. She looked up and saw that the wind had brung children for her. And they all lived happily ever after.

[Written in middle school. I think I was going to make an origami mobile with lots of pretty cranes or something, and this was the story to go with it? I got nothing.]

*************

[Hokay. So, I'm going to lj-cut this one, because it's an incredibly shitty poem about cutting yourself.

Seriously, if self-injury bothers you, scares you, or will trigger you, don't read this. If incredibly shit-tastic middle school emo bothers you, scared you, or will trigger you, again, don't read this.

And the standard disclaimer: I never intentionally cut myself, ever. I'm dead serious when I said that, I think about it occasionally (Even as recently as in the last six months) but I've never actually done it. I really really don't know why I wrote this, other than 'I was depressed and wanted to'.

( Yeah, lj-cut.] )

*************

I am a bossy cow, kid.
because my name is bossy
I will boss you around, kid
because my name is bossy

I was going to be named Bessie, kid
but my name is now bossy
It changed because I said so, kid.
so my name is bossy

My cousin was the first one kid.
the first one to be named bossy
We was named by Keith kid
and we've all become bossys

there are lots of us in the world kid.
Lots of cows named bossy
but I am the bossiest cow of all kid.
for I am the best bossy.

so bow to me I am the best kid
I'm the boss bossy
I have the biggest additude kid
I am the ruler of BOSSEYS

[So, we have this cow, Bossy. The original Bossy belongs to Keith Baker, creator of Eberron and my uncle. During the Big Trip in 2000, our Bossy came along, and I was very into the rivalry between the two cows. So, I wrote my Bossy a poem. Yeeeah, shut up, I was...ten.]

*************

FeoKessiGryfWrenLarkOwnRobiFinch +Spaaaaarooooow!

The Vambry Birds

M-Gryffin (17)
F-Feonix (14)
F-Kestrael (16)
F-Wren (12)
F-Lark(twin) (10)
F-Owl(twin) (10)
F-Robin (9)
M-Finch (7)
F-Sparrow (6)
M-Hawk (23)

Mom - Janna
Dad - Dionyssius

[Pretty clearly a story idea I never did anything with. Done during my most recent trip to Disney World --end of ninth grade, maybe?

There was a period of time in early high school where I was very big on making family trees. That probably spawned this, at least a little.]

*************

K.Whimsy
MOOP!

College. Ah, college, the best of the best, the greatest of the greatest. Where you go to find yourself or lose yourself or change yourself. Just as long as the you coming out is not the same as the you going in.

There are magik based schools in every dimension of the Spectrum, but one school towers above the rest, in terms of prestige. You get accepted to the Sorcyrium* and suddenly every backwater magician knows your name.

See, the trick with the Sorcyrium is that they only take the best. You can't bribe or threaten your way in and it doesn't matter how connected you are. If you can figure out the application (which is a whole test by itself) and send it in, you've just been given the same chance as every other majik user in the Spectrum.

I somehow made it. I'm the first registered Tonya healer to ever show up at this place, and they don't know WHAT to do with me.

I'm also the only person at the entire school who's not utterly thrilled to be there.

Don't get me wrong, I love that they pay the tuition and I'm sure they'll train me right. But it's the end of the first day of classes, and I've just had to deal with the same stupid thing six times (And it'll happen thrice more tomorrow, I suspect.) I get into class. The teacher asks us for our name and discipline. I say I'm a Tonya and the entire class breaks up. If I'm lucky, it's hushed whispers and giggles behind hands. If I'm not? Well, in my Gen. History class, I had a guy shout "Who let the slut in?". Even the teacher started snickering, it was really empowering.

So, I'm sitting here, alone in the corner of the dining hall, picking at a plate of garlic mashed potatoes and french toast (don't judge me by my comfort food.)

A scrawny boy with electrifying blue eyes walked up and gave me an awkward little wave. "Anyone sitting here?" he asked, with an exaggerated smile. I recognized him from my Empathy class and sighed.

"I'm not actually a slut, I'll have you know. I don't have very much sex at all, as I actually specilize in sorting out sexual trauma cases. Even if I were more of a whore, I don't give out my services for free, and I choose my clients exceedingly carefully."

He blinked, and set his tray down across from me. "Okay. I'm gay, and, being a direct descendent of the Arbi monarchy, I'm even less welcome to sit anywhere than you are." I raised an eyebrow at the mention of the Arbis, they were widely recognized as one of the worst ruling classes in any dimension, ever. They had been bad enough that a sizable conspiracy had formed, and organized a complicated time travel saga in order to assassinate the king who had started it all off.

The boy sat, and extended a hand. "I'm Nicholas, but please, call me Nich." I shrugged and shook his hand.

"I suppose I'm not going to make any other friends here. I'm Hikarenn, call me Kari." He grinned and dug into his food. "Alright, I suppose we might as well get the awkward stuff out of the way first. How the hell did an Arbien prince get into the Sorcyrium?"

"If you spend all your time being avoided by other people, you'd read a lot too. I'm a pure Spellen, I've taught myself as much as I possibly could, and apparently it was enough to get accepted here. My turn for awkward questions, just how old are you anyways, and how in the Spectrum did you get into Tonya-healing?"

"I'm not THAT young!" I cried indignantly. "I'm twenty-three, and a pure Tonya. I've been working with victims of sexual abuse for...fifteen years now? Yeah, fifteen. My mother runs a brothel, and one day one of her ladies dragged in this broken little bit. I was brought over just because we were about the same age at the time, but I actually managed to pretty much stabilize the girl. That's when they realized I had Tonya-power, so they just kept me doing that until I hit my One and Half, and then I went and learned the rest of it." I shrugged

"Past five years have been turning tricks and going to a Mundi college. Only just cracked the application code last year, and somehow actually got admitted. Kinda wish I hadn't."

Nich nodded, and took a long sip from a mug of tea. "Right with you there. You at least can pretend you're just hot, there is no spell in the Spectrum that is able to hide my eyes."

"I can just pretend I'm hot? I thought you said you were gay."

"I am, but you OOZE sex. Hell, you could be a whole different species and I would be attracted to you."

I bopped him on the head with my empty tray, and stood. "Whatever. In all truth, I'd really rather not stoink what may be my only friend here. Anyways, I'm going to go do my homework, care to hole up in the library and be an outcast with me?"

He stood as well and winked bawdily. "Thought you'd never ask."






*yes, I am that egotistical. :D

I got bored during English, so I scrawled out some notes about things.

A/N: It's spelled Magik because this is Sorcy!canon, and in Sorcy!canon, the letter 'c' is not generally acknowledged.

***

*The Tonya Guild. A subset of the healers guild dealing primarily (well, okay, solely) with sex. They specilize in things like treating STD's, dealing with sexual trauma, sex-magik (very base and primal magiks, including the original energy spell that comes from two magiken* having sex) and plain old prostitution. The guild employs Magi, Healers, and Pureists (though it's very rare that they get a pure Tonya)

*Types of magik users-
Magi have innate rough power, which they learn how to apply to specific variations and disciplines and stuff. Their possibilities are virtually limitless, solong as they can find people to teach them various disciplines.

Healers have innate rough power that can be applied only to the Healing disciplines, their possibilities are also limitless within their field. (Magi and Healers cannot overlap, their powers don't work like that)

Pureists are blessed with a strong ability to do one specific type of magik --a songwitch for instance, or a Seer. Pureists can be found in the fields of Magi and Healers (a fire Pureist or an empath Pureist, for examples) They tend to be very powerful, but they can only apply their power to fields they they have the ability in. However, some Pureists have magikal ability in more than one field, which is where Healer-Magi tend to come from.

Spellen** are people who have no innate power or ability, but instead know how to cast spells using physical foci --potionsmakers, for instance, beadwitches, and voodoo.

*A true Tink is a Pureist, a sub Tink is either a Mage or a Spellen. ((A Tink is someone with the ability to bewitch clockworks and other machines. They tend to be very good with their hands, as they often build tiny magikal-mechanical machines.))

*There is also a population of metamagik users --people who don't nessecarily have any magik of their own, but can affect the magik of other people. These include Resistors or Boosters (Slow down or increase general power in an area) and Channels (make it easier to focus magik, totally stolen from Mercedes Lackey SO HARD!)

*Projectors (I love you Adie! Muah!) are definently Pureists. A Magi can learn some Projection if they work extremely hard, but it's a difficult discipline if your mind is not shaped to it. It is impossible for a Spellen to become a Projector.

~Sor

*Magiken - Magikal person or Magikal people. En is a genderneutral version of the word 'person'. Examples: Posten would be a person who delivers mail, businessen would be someone who does business, etc.
**Spellen -Spell person or spell people. See above.

( The Sorcyress and the Devil: A drabble )
( Authors notes )

K.Whimsy

( Es Beginnt, part three )

( Es Beginnt, Part two )

( Es Beginnt, part 1 )

The other day in socio class, I got bored, and somehow got on the idea of Mortal Goddesses, which is a concept I came up with ages and ages ago about a way to extend your lifespan in my general fictional canon. It later changed to the term "sekit" which shows up in several stories, though not, I think, anything posted here. (There's a bunch of it in the later portion of Adie's Tale, and I know it's around in Dante. My 2004 WriMo novel has a bit of the early MG thing.)

So I wrote a bunch, about sekits and mortal goddesses/goddess slaves (same thing) and about the mythos. This should all be considered reasonably canon, parts of it are very very old bits of history and ideas that I came up with, while others I only wrote yesterday. Enjoy.

( On with the babbling! )

Notes:
*When I start writing them again, I will give them all names.
*Tonya-healers are essentially sex workers.
*I use Earth and Dnal interchangeably, mostly because they're seperate dimensions on opposite ends of the spectrum. A later post rehashing things that I stole ruthlessly from Robert Asprin that I wrote a long time ago will explain this.

K.Whimsy
MOOP!

( NaNoWriMo2007 -- secondary story -- Loose Ends )

Words to know:

Shii -- common for mate, friend, man, buddy, dude.
Sheki -- Felan for 'foreign shit' essentially
Qui -- Felan generic swear

I totally forgot about her bag when I had her take the plunge, to say nothing about the thick cloak she's got wrapped around her body. We'll assume that it's made of some sort of fantastical material, and that the water doesn't bother it too much. :P

~Sor
MOOP!

This section: 1890
Previous: 5544
Total: 7434
Left to write: 42566

( NaNoWriMo2007 --no, the first story. Yeah, the one with Derrik and Lavy and Mo. )

Working title for this one is now "Only Anarchists" We are now getting to the actual action bits, albeit in a horribly heavy handed sort of way. Ooo, alliteration. Awesome!

KWhimsy
MOOP!

Only Anarchists:
This section: 1148
Previous: 1716
Total: 2864
Left to write: 47136

Notes: [[[__________]]] is used in place of Andrews pirate name and the name of the ship because I want to find the source material and, if the names are good, use those names.

( So, the story continues with all that. And it begins to find some direction, and I pull in another pair of old charecters. )

OOOOO, drama!

K.Whimsy
MOOP!

This section: 3932
Previous: 1612
Total: 5544
Left to write: 44456

Okay, so. My WriMo story was failing like WOAH, so I was sad. Then, as I was writing something else, this first little drabbly bit of a teaser forced its way into my mind and onto my paper. "USE ME!" it demanded, as it summoned back story bits from as far back as middle -maybe elementary- school.

So I wrote a( teaser. )



Okay, yay teaser. Very lovely. But that's not the story --the main PoV dies in it, for crissakes! So I have to write something proper, along the same lines. I wonder who the Nada was who we mentioned. I wonder what her story is.

What? What do you mean she's Pentagram Starr? She's a drawing with a history I don't even remember, I drew it so long ago. Oh, this is her history now? Okay, I guess. Yeah, I'll write it if I must.

The usual warnings apply. This is crap, but it's a special kind of crap --it's WriMo crap. That means that I don't even have a plot, so the story changes as I write it, and things that are canon in one paragraph are completely ignored in the next. Really, whatever the most recently written bit is is the bit you should believe --sometime when it's not November, if I actually finish this, I'll try and shore it up some. Rewrite the whole thing. Like I'm someday going to do with Adie and Xan and Dante.

Bits in italics are a history that Penta is writing, of her people. Yep.



( You're brave to read this. Thank you. )



At the end, I'm beginning to find the story. The start of the next "chunk" really helps to cement it more. And GUESS WHAT!? I USE A CHARACTER LOOKING IN A MIRROR IN ORDER TO DESCRIBE THEM, HAHA! I'm such a shit writer.

K.Whimsy
MOOP!

This is pretty much a metapost.

Because I'm being all new and unique and different this year, one of the things I'm doing is posting my WriMo novel as I write it. Unfortunately for you lot, this is going to equal a lot of shortish posts throughout the day. Apologies and the like.

I will probably also be posting some sort of daily or bidaily output in my regular journal. Feel free to unfriend KatTales for the month of November, I totally won't be offended.

'k, /meta.

~Katarina Whimsy
MOOP!

( NaNoWriMo2007 )

( NaNoWriMo2007 )

Anywho, I had to write a bit of drabblefiction for English class, and I actually rather like how it turned out. So it goes up here.

Crossposted with my dA.

***

"Margarite!" Vivian screeched at me as she came backstage, her boa and dress flapping around her. "Come now, darling, you're hardly dressed! Make-up, hair --get into those stockings, you know they slim your legs down." Viv patted my tush and tsked at me. "You really do need to gain some weight to fill out your curves --how do you ever expect to make it as a girl?"

"Sorry Vivi." I ducked my head apologetically and shimmied into the pale green dress I was wearing for tonight's dance. As I grabbed my wig and began pinning it to my real hair, Vivian coated my face briskly in powder and make-up.

"Don't forget your earrings!" she hissed at me, pressing the gaudy pearls into my hand as I ran to stage left where I make my entrance. I clipped them on, then gave myself a quick shake, making sure my breasts were firmly attached and my garters were high enough on my legs. As the opening strains of "Anything Goes" began, I twirled out on stage and Posed, perfectly balanced on my four inch stilettos.

The boys in the crowd went wild. This was Manhattan, this was vaudeville, this was drag at its finest. And for just one sweet moment, I felt like a queen.

Current Mood: creative

"I've set the goal of writing one paragraph of fiction a day in something that is completely and utterly non-obligatory. This seems pathetically low, but it is vastly better than I've been doing this year."

--Jarne, in his journal. What's that bit about great artists stealing?

( Just a bit of drabble )

~Sor
MOOP!

Dec. 18th, 2006 07:39 pm Drabble(s) of the Day (Via prompt_a_day)

40: I was going to tell you sooner

I was going to tell you sooner, but then sooner never came. Cliche'd, right? But I mean, how could I tell you sooner. How could I tell you that your whole world was a lie? That everything you had ever known was completely wrong...

And now, you're gone. I guess thats what happens when you drink too much pepsi instead of coke.


41: Gravity is a cruel mistress indeed.

I've been forced to learn this the hard way. Somewhere between the third and fourth hundread time I hit the floor, failing once more to fly, I finally learned this.

~K.Whimsy

Current Location: Hier
Current Mood: calm
Current Music: Car Chase Terror, M83 (Creeeeeeepy. :p)