The pet store cashier smiled at Amanda. "Your turtles must be going through a growth spurt. You're here almost every other day, aren't you?"

Amanda smiled back. "They're definitely getting to be big girls." She hefted the bag of feeder goldfish. "How are things going here?"

"Business is good, they keep me pretty busy," the cashier said.

Amanda carried the goldfish out to the car. "Sorry, guys," she said, "but you'll probably have a longer life this way than if you'd actually been bought as feeders."

There were no turtles.

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The Diwar are famed throughout the galaxy (well, to be pedantic, the general area of the Local Arm) as engineers and inventors. They are well known for the quality of their work, their scientific advancements, and the skill with which they implement theory into practical reality. (Also, their great love of beer, which has led to an unlikely friendship between the Diwar and the newest species to develop spaceflight in the Local Arm, Humans.) Their interest in engineering and creation is so great that, where Humans, Kai, Luffen and other species celebrate competitions of physical skill, the Diwar's great planetary competition is The Great Build, an engineering competition.

Remember that the person at the bottom of the medical school graduating class is called "doctor", and you will have some idea what the Proud-Crested Hyperpurples are like. Every competition has a large number of teams involved, and someone's got to be on the bottom.

The Hyperpurples are the team of Fillit Province, a northern, rather chilly and rocky demesne on the homeworld which is primarily known for fishing. Yes, this is not a bad Human speculative fiction where all the people of a planet have the same professions and behave the same way. Not all Humans work in the fiction industry, not all Kai are warriors, and not all Diwar are great engineers. The people of Fillit Province are proud of their Build team, though; despite the fact that the Hyperpurples have literally come in last in the last four competitions, Fillito are loyal. After all, for a tiny fishing province without even a great university to be able to field a team at all, let alone one that even made it into The Great Build, is an amazing accomplishment. The accomplishment is not that the fisher-Diwar are great engineers in comparison to the rest of their people, but that they are engineers at all.

The problem is that the competition keeps itself from getting stale by kicking out any team that is in the bottom 10th percentile for five competitions in a row. If the Hyperpurples don't perform better than at least ten percent of the other teams this year, they're dead in the water. Loyal followers in their hometowns will be deeply disappointed. (Diwar are known for their passion as much as for their love of engineering. Disappointing a Diwar usually results in unpleasant consequences, such as finding that your personal conveyance has been disassembled and its parts strewn about your property.) Family members will declaim at length about the tragedy... and how members of the team who scraped and saved to leave Fillito Province to get a good education at a decent engineering school should have stayed home and caught fish for a living. Funds that were flowing into the Hyperpurples' bank accounts from the sales of merchandise to their loyal fans will dry up.

"We could try to do something safe. Something respectable," Irta said, nervously pulling at the feathers along the shoulder of his large-arm. There weren't many left. Irta, like all of them, had been under a lot of stress lately. "Maybe a conveyance for a non-standard environment? Something that would work in, I don't know, 20 g?"

"Boring!" Bakoon declared, with a wide wave of his own large-arm and a fluff of his crest. "We need to capture the imaginations of the public! To come in 11th percentile or higher, we can't do something mean and pedestrian; beyond a contest of engineering skill, this is a contest of ideas!"

"Besides, it's not as if we can win on our engineering skill," Rikwaal said sardonically, her small-arms busily occupied with inputting because Rikwaal liked to look as if she was so important to the team, her work never stopped. She was actually a project manager, so the truth was, without a project to engage in, she didn't have anything to do either.

"Speak for yourself," the team's other female, Enshru, snapped. "You can't win on engineering skill because you are not an engineer."

"Judging from our performance the last four years, neither are the rest of you," Rikwaal said.

"Guys, could we stop arguing? This isn't getting us any closer to the prize," Le'ir said. He was young, and very earnest, but well-respected for his comportment, his friendliness, his alcohol tolerance, and his ability to go for three days without sleep at crunch time and still have his work come out as competition-quality. "We need a really new idea. Something to shake things up."

"I agree!" Bakoon said. "Regardless of our skill at engineering, one of our metrics is viewership. Get enough Diwar to follow us and it won't matter if we fail spectacularly and blow something up. We'd at least come in higher than 11th percentile, if everyone following the competition followed us as a focus-team."

Enshru snorted. "It sounds like you think this competition is one of those Human things where the Humans with big muscles pretend to wrestle each other! This isn't about show business, it's about making something that makes people take notice of us!"

"Which we have never accomplished before," Rikwaal said, "and therefore, it really seems implausible that we'd manage it this time."

Read more... )

Notes: Yes, these are out of order. #4 and #6 were written at the same time because they feature the same characters.




“Oh, she’s gorgeous!” the American scientist said to Ilya. Faro, who could understand huun speech and thus knew she was being complimented, wagged her tail fast enough that if she’d been more aerodynamic she could have propelled herself into flight with it. “What’s her name?”


“Faro,” Ilya said. “Thanks. She is beautiful.” He scratched her on the scruff, deep within her thick fur. “And you know it, don’t you girl?”


“I sure do,” Faro barked back. The American woman didn’t understand her, of course, because she was speaking Pack-speech, but Ilya understood her just fine.


“Faro? That’s an Egyptian name. Kind of a strange choice for a female husky, isn’t it?”


“It’s not Egyptian. It’s just her name. It means ‘duck’. She likes to go in water much more than average dog, let alone husky, so we call her ‘duck.’”


“What are you going to do if she asks you what language that’s in?” Faro asked, amused, knowing Ilya couldn’t answer her directly in front of a non-wizard human. He wasn’t going to be able to tell her it was Kyonsky, the Russian word for the language of dogs, after all.


“Shush, you,” Ilya said. “We get your treats soon enough.”

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Set in the Young Wizards universe by Diane Duane, inspired by the cat wizard books. At one point she mentions that dog wizards exist, but never, to my knowledge, do we get to meet any. If I'm wrong and canon completely contradicts these guys, then boy I'll be embarassed.


Faro padded gingerly out onto the ice. It held her weight at first, but six body-lengths and it was starting to creak dangerously. “This is bad, Ilya,” she said. “It’s taking my weight for the moment, but I feel like it could crack any minute.” The ice was supposed to be solid and firm out a mile or more from shore.

“Be careful, Faro!” her partner, Ilya, shouted to her.

He was speaking his own language, which Faro referred to as Ruhhyi, and Faro was speaking her own – which Ilya’s kind called Kyonsky, or Kyonish when he was speaking with the Americans they worked with sometimes, but Faro just referred to it as what it was – Pack-speech. She often felt that she was one of the luckiest rawuu’uhff, Pack-people, on the planet; most Pack-people couldn’t make themselves understood to their huun packmates, and had to study and work incredibly hard just to make sense of a handful of commands in huun-speech. But Faro and Ilya were both wizards, both capable of the Speech – the language of magic, of the universe’s creation – and as such, could understand any other language spoken to them.

“I’m always careful!” Faro barked back. In her mind she assembled, and then whispered, a phrase to the ice, reminding it of when it had been solid and thick, easily able to hold a Pack-person’s weight. The ice, so reminded, obliged her by bearing her out as far as it existed. She jumped from floe to floe, digging thick claws into the ice when she landed to avoid skidding, until the ice layer that floated atop the seawater was so thin, it might as well be water and she’d have needed an entirely different spell to be able to walk on it.
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TW for attempted child molestation, implication that it was more than “attempted” in the past.

This one was hard, and I feel like it kind of trails off rather than ending. Which probably means it wants to be a much larger piece, not a ficlet, but Inktober’s about doing the ficlets, so oh well. I may expand it at some point in the future.



Minna was very, very reluctant to let Jasmine come to her house for a sleepover; Jasmine had to work on her for most of the school year, despite Minna coming over Jasmine’s house over a dozen times. But finally, in May, Minna agreed. “My dad’s going to be out of town,” she said, “so you can come over this weekend.”

“I don’t understand why I can’t come over when your dad’s around?”

“Uh, my dad likes peace and quiet, that’s all.”

On the night of the sleepover, however, it turned out Minna’s dad was in town after all, his business trip apparently unexpectedly canceled while Minna was at school. “Oh,” Minna said. “We ought to cancel this, then. Maybe you should call your parents?”

“Don’t be silly!” Minna’s mom said. “It’ll be fine, won’t it, Jake?”

“That’s right. I’ve got no problem with you having a sleepover, sweetie. Who’s your little friend there, honey?”

“I’m Jasmine.” He didn’t seem like he was angry, or mean.

“Jasmine?” He laughed. “Is that old-lady name making a comeback now?”

“I was named after my grandma. My friends call me Jazz, though.”

“That’s great,” Jake said, grinning. “You like board games, Jazz? You even heard of board games? I know you kids, always playing on your VR sets, but did you ever play real games like we used to when we were kids?”

Jasmine happened to know that if Jake was the age he appeared to be, his childhood was probably spent playing video games on 2 dimensional screens, but she didn’t challenge him. “I like board games, sure!”

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The patient was sitting on the table, dressed in a hospital gown, looking deeply irritated. “I don’t even know why I’m here. I wanted to go to Five Guys,” he said. “Why didn’t you take me to Five Guys?”

The woman with him – close to the same age, late 20’s or early 30’s – sighed. She sounded exasperated. “Greg, we have talked about this. You’re here because—”

“You know, there’s a great sale on fishing gear at Walmart. I could be at Walmart right now buying fishing gear.”

“You don’t even fish!”

“Hello,” I said. “I’m Dr. Park. What brings you here today?”

“Nothing!” Greg Landers, my patient, said. He was a white guy with brown hair and stubble on his face, medium build, and looked overall reasonably healthy. “I’m fine! I just want to go to Five Guys. Or you know, Charles Schwab is a great place to open up your 401K. They’ve got a satisfaction guarantee. You won’t see that at every investment firm!”

“He’s been like this for days,” the woman with him said. “He won’t go to work, he won’t do chores around the house… he eats, but he spends the whole time complaining that it’s not some restaurant he wants to go to. Mostly Five Guys. Greg doesn’t even like burgers that much.”

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“No,” Diana Faust said, facing the Council. “No, I will not be bound to a ring. My teacher is dead; by the laws of the arcana, I am free, and I will so stay.”

“See thou reason, woman,” Fa Guang said impatiently. “Thou’rt a journeyman and young for it besides, still in the fullness of your first life—”

“I have taken more than one client prime,” Diana said. “’Tis far from my first life.”

“In body, yes,” Amyntas said patiently. “In years, thou’d hardly be old enough to have children grown—”

“I have no children.”

“And if thou hadst them, they’d still be in their youth. Thou wert an apprentice for less than ten years.”

“Despite which, I avenged my teacher and earned the rank of Journeywoman.”

“See reason!” Fa Guang shouted. “One as young as thou art should not be unbound! Accept the ring, take a new teacher. Amyntas has offered to take you, as have Nikolaus and Ismail both.”

“Master Nikolaus was an apprentice for six years, and was accorded the rank of master within forty. He is hardly a century old. Wherefore should the rules be different for me?” Diana smiled coldly. She knew well exactly why the rules were applied differently now.

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