You can talk about dreams, that lead to ideas, that grow into creations. But, many stories grow from strange seeds, seeming visitors to the mind, that drift like travellers between worlds. 'The Dragons Vest' is a place between worlds, between established stories, where dreams can rest their weary whisps, trading fragments of concepts, with like minds.
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The Dragons Vest (snippets, seeds, original stories)
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The 'Dragons Vest', where strange visitors lurk
Ace Dreamer
Verified Reality User
- Location
- Between The Unknown & The Known
AKA (Tales From) The Dragon's Vest
You can talk about dreams, that lead to ideas, that grow into creations. But, many stories grow from strange seeds, seeming visitors to the mind, that drift like travellers between worlds. 'The Dragons Vest' is a place between worlds, between established stories, where dreams can rest their weary whisps, trading fragments of concepts, with like minds.
All sounds a bit 'grand'? Well, there's things which may lead to stories, but unless put somewhere could escape. So, they can 'live' here. Also, some one-off original stories, not fanfic. Other stuff? Guess we'll have to see.
---
Why the 'Dragons Vest'? In the story 'Raven's Replacement' a place called that is visited. A place between the worlds, an inn, meeting place, maybe a trading post. It seems to be neutral territory, and there may well be some (likely lazy) Local Power keeping order. Where does the name come from? Many of the stranger older names come from mishearing, or misnamings...
Didn't seem a bad name for somewhere to 'stuff' bits...
---
I was advised to put this bit in. Apparently each thread has its own 'culture', and it can help to define some of that at the start.
So...
Constructive feedback, and things like spelling mistake corrections are appreciated. But, in no way do I expect these ideas to appeal, or even look halfways sane, to all readers. You cannot please everyone, and trying to do so is a route to insanity.
Ultimately, these ideas are a bit of fun, though I reserve the right to wander off into weird bits of science, philosophy, or, even mysticism. You have been warned! The world is a strange place, and I might be a bit strange, too.
AN: There'll be Author Notes, like this, at the bottom of many fragments/ideas. Maybe, even, at the start of some. You can ignore them, but, you do so at your own risk. Some are bits of humour, some are 'links' to things referenced above, some are about the 'logic' of the fragment/idea. You've been warned!
AN: While I'll try and avoid it, fragments/ideas are subject to major edits after posting. They are not held to the same standards as episodes of stories I post (you can decide if you think those standards are 'high', yourselves). Ultimately, you 'gets what you gets'.
AN: Story icon is GIMP'd version of Image by brgfx on Freepik.
You can talk about dreams, that lead to ideas, that grow into creations. But, many stories grow from strange seeds, seeming visitors to the mind, that drift like travellers between worlds. 'The Dragons Vest' is a place between worlds, between established stories, where dreams can rest their weary whisps, trading fragments of concepts, with like minds.
All sounds a bit 'grand'? Well, there's things which may lead to stories, but unless put somewhere could escape. So, they can 'live' here. Also, some one-off original stories, not fanfic. Other stuff? Guess we'll have to see.
---
Why the 'Dragons Vest'? In the story 'Raven's Replacement' a place called that is visited. A place between the worlds, an inn, meeting place, maybe a trading post. It seems to be neutral territory, and there may well be some (likely lazy) Local Power keeping order. Where does the name come from? Many of the stranger older names come from mishearing, or misnamings...
Didn't seem a bad name for somewhere to 'stuff' bits...
---
I was advised to put this bit in. Apparently each thread has its own 'culture', and it can help to define some of that at the start.
So...
Constructive feedback, and things like spelling mistake corrections are appreciated. But, in no way do I expect these ideas to appeal, or even look halfways sane, to all readers. You cannot please everyone, and trying to do so is a route to insanity.
Ultimately, these ideas are a bit of fun, though I reserve the right to wander off into weird bits of science, philosophy, or, even mysticism. You have been warned! The world is a strange place, and I might be a bit strange, too.
AN: There'll be Author Notes, like this, at the bottom of many fragments/ideas. Maybe, even, at the start of some. You can ignore them, but, you do so at your own risk. Some are bits of humour, some are 'links' to things referenced above, some are about the 'logic' of the fragment/idea. You've been warned!
AN: While I'll try and avoid it, fragments/ideas are subject to major edits after posting. They are not held to the same standards as episodes of stories I post (you can decide if you think those standards are 'high', yourselves
). Ultimately, you 'gets what you gets'. AN: Story icon is GIMP'd version of Image by brgfx on Freepik.
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Bird in the Hand (original)
Ace Dreamer
Verified Reality User
- Location
- Between The Unknown & The Known
Bird in the Hand (original)
"It's my bird!" It'd been a nasty crash. The two men sat, shaken, in the car. "I know it's your bird, but I'm better." The second man was quite clear in his views.
They paused their argument, for a moment, to recover. Normally, they were the best of friends. They rarely disagreed. But, a crash tended to shake people up. This wasn't a good place to have an accident, either. And, while they both seemed uninjured, the place scared them.
"I've loved her for years. We're practically married." The first man wasn't going to give up easily. "Look, I'm not going to damage your relationship. This is a one-off thing." The other man looked around at their desolate surroundings.
A voice shook both of them. It came from the abandoned car they'd taken refuge in, after their crash. A slightly strange, robotic, voice.
"Look. You can argue about who's best, later. I'll fly you crashed humanoids back up to your bird. You give me a lift somewhere civilized."
"Does that sound a good deal?"
---
AN: Wrote this science fiction short, about nine years ago. Bit of a one-off, unsure if it might go anywhere. Supposed to be in the style of some of the old science fiction short stories, from pre-1970s. Landing on strange planets, particularly if you crash, can be really bad.
AN: Older science fiction, particularly from the first half of the 20thC, was... a bit strange. There were very few women in stories, and those who did appear were often... not very well presented. Platonic teams of men were common, some teams were... rather strange (Men, Martians and Machines comes to mind). This (arguably incomplete) story poked that idea.
AN: Yes, this is an 'incomplete' story. Only implied is that the two men have crashed their (short range) shuttle/gig, and the only way they believe they can escape this world is to remote control the starship they came down from so 'she' makes a somewhat risky landing. The distinction between a STL shuttle and a FTL starship is again only implied. And, yet again implied, is that there's no one (else) left aboard their starship, and that the ship has no AI. The lack of rapid help arriving and/or the ability to call for help, also implied. So, lots of load placed on the reader, which is arguably unfair.
"It's my bird!" It'd been a nasty crash. The two men sat, shaken, in the car. "I know it's your bird, but I'm better." The second man was quite clear in his views.
They paused their argument, for a moment, to recover. Normally, they were the best of friends. They rarely disagreed. But, a crash tended to shake people up. This wasn't a good place to have an accident, either. And, while they both seemed uninjured, the place scared them.
"I've loved her for years. We're practically married." The first man wasn't going to give up easily. "Look, I'm not going to damage your relationship. This is a one-off thing." The other man looked around at their desolate surroundings.
A voice shook both of them. It came from the abandoned car they'd taken refuge in, after their crash. A slightly strange, robotic, voice.
"Look. You can argue about who's best, later. I'll fly you crashed humanoids back up to your bird. You give me a lift somewhere civilized."
"Does that sound a good deal?"
---
AN: Wrote this science fiction short, about nine years ago. Bit of a one-off, unsure if it might go anywhere. Supposed to be in the style of some of the old science fiction short stories, from pre-1970s. Landing on strange planets, particularly if you crash, can be really bad.
AN: Older science fiction, particularly from the first half of the 20thC, was... a bit strange. There were very few women in stories, and those who did appear were often... not very well presented. Platonic teams of men were common, some teams were... rather strange (Men, Martians and Machines comes to mind). This (arguably incomplete) story poked that idea.
AN: Yes, this is an 'incomplete' story. Only implied is that the two men have crashed their (short range) shuttle/gig, and the only way they believe they can escape this world is to remote control the starship they came down from so 'she' makes a somewhat risky landing. The distinction between a STL shuttle and a FTL starship is again only implied. And, yet again implied, is that there's no one (else) left aboard their starship, and that the ship has no AI. The lack of rapid help arriving and/or the ability to call for help, also implied. So, lots of load placed on the reader, which is arguably unfair.
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Modern Prometheus (original)
Ace Dreamer
Verified Reality User
- Location
- Between The Unknown & The Known
Modern Prometheus (original)
Joseph Wright, of Derby, opened his eyes. The usual pains were all there. He thought he heard his daughters, downstairs. And, he was afraid, it all hadn't just been a dream.
Sitting behind a nearly imperceptible curtain, with the full health of his youth, but all his hard-won experience. His preliminary paintings, his drawing board to hand, an immense machine, the 'Shadow Light' they'd called it, at his finger tips. The two philosophers, 'scientists' they'd called themselves, standing beside the reclining female figure, waiting for his signal.
He checked his drawings, tried a few more combinations of shadows, and deciding he was done reached out, and threw the large lever. The two figures, one a tall, dark, female, 'Dr Jones', one a shorter, broader, fair, male, 'Dr Smith', animated, and they both near simultaneously threw small levers, and light like small lightning flickered across the reclining female, they'd named 'Galatea'.
The woman stirred, opened her eyes, and looked around. He thought her milk-white skin made a particularly good contrast against her rich-coloured clothes, as his hand quickly sketched. He absently foot-tapped the lever he'd been told would capture images for him.
Her gaze locked on each of the philosophers, then drifted around the room, locking on him. He panicked. He'd been told not to do anything to draw attention to himself. In particular, not to speak. But, he blurted-out, "Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain".
The woman frowned, then spoke. "'The Wizard of Oz', so, that'd make me 'Dorothy'. Yes. I like that name." Then everything went hazy.
Somehow he'd fallen asleep again. He half-heard a voice, his doctor, "Don't worry, he died peacefully, in his sleep". Then, far more clearly, "Doctor Tipler! I think we've rescued another time traveller!"...
---
AN: Something from about ten years ago. Bit of a perspective piece, using a real person. Sort of stealing people from history, but, not. And, implications of the Tiplerian immortality scheme.
Refs:
Joseph Wright (of Derby)
Prometheus
Galatea (mythology)
Frank J. Tipler
Omega Point
Joseph Wright, of Derby, opened his eyes. The usual pains were all there. He thought he heard his daughters, downstairs. And, he was afraid, it all hadn't just been a dream.
Sitting behind a nearly imperceptible curtain, with the full health of his youth, but all his hard-won experience. His preliminary paintings, his drawing board to hand, an immense machine, the 'Shadow Light' they'd called it, at his finger tips. The two philosophers, 'scientists' they'd called themselves, standing beside the reclining female figure, waiting for his signal.
He checked his drawings, tried a few more combinations of shadows, and deciding he was done reached out, and threw the large lever. The two figures, one a tall, dark, female, 'Dr Jones', one a shorter, broader, fair, male, 'Dr Smith', animated, and they both near simultaneously threw small levers, and light like small lightning flickered across the reclining female, they'd named 'Galatea'.
The woman stirred, opened her eyes, and looked around. He thought her milk-white skin made a particularly good contrast against her rich-coloured clothes, as his hand quickly sketched. He absently foot-tapped the lever he'd been told would capture images for him.
Her gaze locked on each of the philosophers, then drifted around the room, locking on him. He panicked. He'd been told not to do anything to draw attention to himself. In particular, not to speak. But, he blurted-out, "Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain".
The woman frowned, then spoke. "'The Wizard of Oz', so, that'd make me 'Dorothy'. Yes. I like that name." Then everything went hazy.
Somehow he'd fallen asleep again. He half-heard a voice, his doctor, "Don't worry, he died peacefully, in his sleep". Then, far more clearly, "Doctor Tipler! I think we've rescued another time traveller!"...
---
AN: Something from about ten years ago. Bit of a perspective piece, using a real person. Sort of stealing people from history, but, not. And, implications of the Tiplerian immortality scheme.
Refs:
Joseph Wright (of Derby)
Prometheus
Galatea (mythology)
Frank J. Tipler
Omega Point
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Kulan (original)
Ace Dreamer
Verified Reality User
- Location
- Between The Unknown & The Known
Kulan (original)
Another dead wolf. It was a cold winter, and starvation was driving them down from the mountains. He'd had to kill tens of them, this year. And, each burnt, starving, corpse reminded him of who he was.
As a mage he had access to ancient knowledge. Libraries going back maybe thousands of years. As a mage he would live indefinitely. Until, most likely, he was killed by some other mage. Then, maybe, reincarnation again. A new life. A new body. Maybe a way to forget. With any luck, not as one marked as a mage.
He liked the winter. He liked the borderlands. People accepted him as useful, valuable, to the community. They didn't flinch away from looking him in the face. Even the children. They called him 'Uncle Kulan', while the adults just called him 'Kulan'. Everyone knew his job. He burned things.
His face. He supposed it gave him some advantages. He didn't have to shave. Good in a world of, at best, cut-throat razors. Mostly he got respect, and any fear of upsetting a fire mage was well hidden, even in the biggest cities. Cities! They called them that, but, he remembered from his first life. True cities. Millions of people. Not the tens of thousands they called a city in this world.
His first life. That fractured mess. Before he understood that each awakening in this world, not the one of his origin, was to be appreciated. The scars on his hands. Once he learned to look he could see the sigil, the brand, of a fire mage, hidden on the palm of his right hand.
Waking in this world, each time he was deeply enough unconscious in his own, from the seemingly endless reconstructive surgery, year-on-year, on his face. Until, a long and full life, he died of old age and awoke, hopefully the last time, as a fire mage in this world.
Fire.
'Kulan' meant 'coal', if you dug into the right histories. The coal that had burnt his face, his hands, all those years ago. But, 'kulan' was also 'wild horse'. Something free, untamed. These days, though his face reminded him, even though the fire he wielded meant he couldn't forget, he liked that meaning.
Free.
---
AN: I guess this fantasy story, from nine years ago, is an 'Isekai'. From well before I heard that term. But, I understand the idea has been around, in some form, since the 1930s ('Slaves of Sleep'), and likely before then.
AN: Only implied is that the viewpoint character has a really badly burned face. And, that to be a 'mage' in the described fantasy world you must be 'marked' by magic, possibly in a highly traumatic way, that suits your variety of magic. If this story was developed hopefully all that would become clearer. But... it is what it is.
Another dead wolf. It was a cold winter, and starvation was driving them down from the mountains. He'd had to kill tens of them, this year. And, each burnt, starving, corpse reminded him of who he was.
As a mage he had access to ancient knowledge. Libraries going back maybe thousands of years. As a mage he would live indefinitely. Until, most likely, he was killed by some other mage. Then, maybe, reincarnation again. A new life. A new body. Maybe a way to forget. With any luck, not as one marked as a mage.
He liked the winter. He liked the borderlands. People accepted him as useful, valuable, to the community. They didn't flinch away from looking him in the face. Even the children. They called him 'Uncle Kulan', while the adults just called him 'Kulan'. Everyone knew his job. He burned things.
His face. He supposed it gave him some advantages. He didn't have to shave. Good in a world of, at best, cut-throat razors. Mostly he got respect, and any fear of upsetting a fire mage was well hidden, even in the biggest cities. Cities! They called them that, but, he remembered from his first life. True cities. Millions of people. Not the tens of thousands they called a city in this world.
His first life. That fractured mess. Before he understood that each awakening in this world, not the one of his origin, was to be appreciated. The scars on his hands. Once he learned to look he could see the sigil, the brand, of a fire mage, hidden on the palm of his right hand.
Waking in this world, each time he was deeply enough unconscious in his own, from the seemingly endless reconstructive surgery, year-on-year, on his face. Until, a long and full life, he died of old age and awoke, hopefully the last time, as a fire mage in this world.
Fire.
'Kulan' meant 'coal', if you dug into the right histories. The coal that had burnt his face, his hands, all those years ago. But, 'kulan' was also 'wild horse'. Something free, untamed. These days, though his face reminded him, even though the fire he wielded meant he couldn't forget, he liked that meaning.
Free.
---
AN: I guess this fantasy story, from nine years ago, is an 'Isekai'. From well before I heard that term. But, I understand the idea has been around, in some form, since the 1930s ('Slaves of Sleep'), and likely before then.
AN: Only implied is that the viewpoint character has a really badly burned face. And, that to be a 'mage' in the described fantasy world you must be 'marked' by magic, possibly in a highly traumatic way, that suits your variety of magic. If this story was developed hopefully all that would become clearer. But... it is what it is.
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Poking The Varga (Omake-wise)
Ace Dreamer
Verified Reality User
- Location
- Between The Unknown & The Known
Poking The Varga (Omake-wise)
Is it wise to poke The Varga? You might regret it, but it's unlikely to involve worse than lizardly snickering and the odd bit of mental scarring.
Taylor Varga is a 'Worm' (the massively fanfic'd late 2000s supers webstory) cross with the anime 'Luna Varga', an early (and arguably incomplete) 1990s anime mini-series which brought a new meaning to the phrase 'Up to your ass in dinosaurs'. It would appear... to have grown somewhat more than its author anticipated, way beyond a million words, probably in excess of twenty (dead-tree variety) novel-equivalents.
In the process TV has arguably created a trend towards the idea of non-evil (often somewhat humanoid) lizard-people who... might regard trolling (shaking people's worldviews) as part of their lifestyle. And, encouraged fanfic of fanfic.
This author has indulged in TV fanfic. Some of which might be linked below. OK, eventually, most of which might be linked below. We'll see. Priority is (maybe) given to those which are Work-in-Progress, and might grow more episodes. Only the first episode will be linked; follow the 'Next >' links to read them all. If no more episodes are planned, this might be indicated.
Warning: not all fanfics are Threadmarked in TV. In a few cases only some of the episodes are such. Beware! Ceiling Lizard is watching you!
(There might be a few fanfics from the TV author's Random Fiction thread. Maybe these might be marked as such.)
What Manual? (Amazo Girl; see 'Do Not Meddle...')
Time To What? (Oops Family)
(Oops Family (Informational))
Need More Lizards... (Family; One-shot)
T.B.C.
Is it wise to poke The Varga? You might regret it, but it's unlikely to involve worse than lizardly snickering and the odd bit of mental scarring.
Taylor Varga is a 'Worm' (the massively fanfic'd late 2000s supers webstory) cross with the anime 'Luna Varga', an early (and arguably incomplete) 1990s anime mini-series which brought a new meaning to the phrase 'Up to your ass in dinosaurs'. It would appear... to have grown somewhat more than its author anticipated, way beyond a million words, probably in excess of twenty (dead-tree variety) novel-equivalents.
In the process TV has arguably created a trend towards the idea of non-evil (often somewhat humanoid) lizard-people who... might regard trolling (shaking people's worldviews) as part of their lifestyle. And, encouraged fanfic of fanfic.
This author has indulged in TV fanfic. Some of which might be linked below. OK, eventually, most of which might be linked below. We'll see. Priority is (maybe) given to those which are Work-in-Progress, and might grow more episodes. Only the first episode will be linked; follow the 'Next >' links to read them all. If no more episodes are planned, this might be indicated.
Warning: not all fanfics are Threadmarked in TV. In a few cases only some of the episodes are such. Beware! Ceiling Lizard is watching you!
(There might be a few fanfics from the TV author's Random Fiction thread. Maybe these might be marked as such.)
What Manual? (Amazo Girl; see 'Do Not Meddle...')
Time To What? (Oops Family)
(Oops Family (Informational))
Need More Lizards... (Family; One-shot)
T.B.C.
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Do Not Meddle...
Ace Dreamer
Verified Reality User
- Location
- Between The Unknown & The Known
Do Not Meddle...
The 'classic' version of that is, "Do not meddle in the affairs of wizards, for they are subtle and quick to anger" (JRR Tolkein, LotR). The Discordian version (RA Wilson, The Illuminati Papers?) has "it makes them soggy and difficult to light", as the second part, because...
This version? "Do not meddle in the affairs of Lizards, for you are crunchy and tasty with hot-sauce." Which is a reference to why you don't... mess with dragons, and the Taylor Varga 'Family' implying that certain people (*cough* Dennis *cough*) possibly might be... improved by adding sauce.
'Do Not Meddle...' is the title for the group of omake episodes which feature 'Amazo Girl', an Original Character based on DC Comics 'Amazo Family' - see 'Kid Amazo'. And, her visit to TV Brockton Bay.
The first episode is 'What Manual?'.
The 'classic' version of that is, "Do not meddle in the affairs of wizards, for they are subtle and quick to anger" (JRR Tolkein, LotR). The Discordian version (RA Wilson, The Illuminati Papers?) has "it makes them soggy and difficult to light", as the second part, because...
This version? "Do not meddle in the affairs of Lizards, for you are crunchy and tasty with hot-sauce." Which is a reference to why you don't... mess with dragons, and the Taylor Varga 'Family' implying that certain people (*cough* Dennis *cough*) possibly might be... improved by adding sauce.
'Do Not Meddle...' is the title for the group of omake episodes which feature 'Amazo Girl', an Original Character based on DC Comics 'Amazo Family' - see 'Kid Amazo'. And, her visit to TV Brockton Bay.
The first episode is 'What Manual?'.
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