Tip Shops. Everything from from over-ordered new clothing, 2nd hand furniture, building material and odds and ends. "One person's rubbish is another's treasure." -- Prompty.

Places like this had a Smell. Somewhere between dust, old makeup, and the Stygian depths of an Escherian book emporium. Regardless of whether the items for sale were new or recovered in one way or another, they all had the scent of too much time.

Maebe thought of it as the smell of second-hand dust. It made sense, since everything in the shop had come from places where they weren't wanted. Factory seconds, overstock, offcuts, scraps, and the mandatory second-hand items that only encouraged the Smell. They were all things that had the potential to be useful. Which was why they were in the Second Chance Store.

For Maebe, it was the smell of hir home. The little flat above the shop was where ze grew up, and working the store was as almost a reflex. Sometimes, ze would take up things that had lain around too long and turn them into something new. Pour encourager les autres.

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Maybe.

But first, I must focus. Which is always an issue when chatting with other writers.

Why chat with other writers?

I need socialisation. It's that simple. I need to talk shop with like-minded gremlins and my writers' groups fit that bill.

Working on today's tale.

Trying to get a group moving in the right direction. Pick one of these. Schoolchildren on a trip. Visitors to a 3 hour specialist sale event. Agreeing to go anywhere. -- Prompty

"Stop, look, and lis-ten," chanted Educator Dees, primary teacher for the newly literate and numerate class.

There were five kids to each educator, not that that did anything to prevent the inherent chaos of fifty children on the field trip. Some were talking animatedly at each other, some were play-wrestling, some were doing memetic dances, and one was playing with a cats-cradle. Nevertheless, they had grown up with this call and response, so they at least slowed down enough to chant, "Stop, look, and lis-ten."

The majority stopped their shenanigans, all the same.

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So the instant story for today will be happening much later. Unless, of course, the muse and the words decide fly.

I'll see if that's happening after this break to ice my dumb ankle. Fingers crossed, I can actually do it all and have some time to degauss after that's all sorted.

To begin that, I must begin the treatment.

1: "You are aware, of course, that where you are going is more than far beyond us?"/ 2: "Yes. There's no horse that will be able to make the journey." 1: "Then how do you plan to get there?"/ 2: "We'll need something more than a simple horse." 1: "What do 'we' have in mind?" -- Anon Guest

"It's ten thousand leagues, and we have to get there in a handful of days. We don't have horses for all of us. We don't even have one horse." Scion Naeryn gripped their fists in their hair in anxiety. "Go adventuring, they said. You'll learn about the greater world from the ground up, they said. You'll understand the common throng they said. All the nobles are doing it... They just didn't mention anything about how to get back in a hurry when the evil vizier is plotting a Freja-cursed coup!"

"Breathe," said the Bard Calliope. "Nice deep breaths. We'll get there."

"We won't get there by huffing and puffing," protested Naeryn. "And we certainly won't get there in a week and three days."

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Further updates after I get back.

Update:

The Chapter 13 disaster has struck the Physio, killing their theragun. All things considered, less than what I was bracing for. I was ready for compy implosions, power outages, and other cosmic disasters that would make it difficult to write things.

OK.

I shall get on with posting my weekly thing in a minute, then try to speedrun today's story so I can get a wriggle on with the Promptcast thing that I still haven't finished.

Tally and Ho.

Let me tell you of a bard I once heard sing. The voice had a strength and depth that no magic in the world could recreate. I felt the desire to steal them away and keep them for myself, but I knew the world needed them more. And so I became their patron.

https://peakd.com/flashfiction/@internutter/challenge-04840-m091-fey-touched -- Anon Guest

Legends tell of a Bard who can charm savage beasts with the sound of hir voice. One who can make music to forge peace using the weapons of soldiers and archers. And one who, for reasons known only to that Bard, sought out a Faerie ring.

Hir name was Haness, and in the times when Faekindred in the mortal realm kept some Humans captive, ze was not merely a Bard.

Haness had made a deal with a Faerie, and thus was also a Warlock. The first known to do so. Haness was fortunate that ze had won the favour of a Seelie Fae. That would be... me. You may know me as Betel, and for a time, Haness was my dear, beloved pet.

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I'm also doing the Leyland's Tour, allegedly to save petrol. So I will likely be freaking tired when I come back home.

There shall at least be story, but I have no idea when that's happening.

Time, as always, will tell.

Currently in the holding pattern, so I shall try to post my Patreon stuff while I can.

For 60 long years Queen Essarea has held her kingdom together through sheer force of will. But at long last her strength is flagging, old clans once subdued are preparing to open old feuds for power, and her heirs lack the careful combination of ruthlessness, charisma, and measured kindness which Essarea employed during her time on the throne. What will become of six decades of relative peace once her eyes close for the final time…? -- Deathshead419

It's not unprecedented, but there's always some kind of conflict that springs up every time it happens. Noble heads of state can pass their crown and position to someone they deem more worthy of them both. Of course, the genetic heirs kick up a stink, but it's hard to argue with someone who has your parent's army.

The royal princes and princesses of Te'akuria had no idea that their mother the Queen was training up her prentice. She had her own children out soothing the bickering tribes, in teams consisting solely of siblings that got along.

You don't maintain the power of a crown for six decades without a certain amount of social manipulation.

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It's not looking that great to happen this week, though. Health issues.

Good news: Beloved has an income again!
Bad news: Not a great lot of it.

It will help pay for the foods, so that's a good thing. Can always use help paying for the foods.

...lord knows the kids and cats can go through a bunch of stuff in a rush.

It shall be a relief to have that. When it all starts coming through.

Maybe one or two more weeks of semi-desperate juggling, and the household finances will be sailing on without too much concern about how to pay for foods.

Bills is a different matter, alas. Still working on that two thirds of the budget.

Storytime soon.

Trudy enters her awkward teenage years with a new obsession. Haunted by dreams, she begs and cajoles her parents until they bring her to a lake in the middle of a swampy waste. Here she finds the source of her begging dreams, a human prince who had been turned into a swan. Just the sort who’s magic curse would reach a girl who used to be a goose…

https://peakd.com/fiction/@internutter/challenge-04708-l324-from-menace-to-midwife -- Deathshead419

The Will o' the Wild was calling her again. Trudy could see the destination as clearly as if she were already there. A lake. A woody swamp. A place far from anywhere else. Far from where the hunters went. Of course it was difficult to get to.

Since she was still underage, Trudy went to her family and Wraithvine for help with the journey.

Not that she needed the help, so much. A Druid who had been a goose in a previous existence knew how to fight if things devolved to that point. Further, she had no qualms about fighting dirty. Hells, she had no qualms about fighting filthy. So much so that Wraithvine had had to cover hir eyes from some of it.

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In betwixt that, I'll be intermittently tapping away on today's tale. Chipping out words one letter at a time. Or something that feels like that.

Fingers crossed, the scuff shall be light to nonexistent. We can hope and pray.

I also have bread on, so I'm listening for the auto alarms. Just the usual juggling nonsense at any given minute. Same ol' same ol'.

Story whenever I can wrangle that noise.

Menson V'lek has inherited a map where his father buried a pirate fortune. The story goes that after a shipwreck during a great sea chase, the old man buried the gold he could not carry and high tailed it out of there. But something doesn’t quite add up with the old man’s story or his map, leading Menson to travel to the isle to unravel the truth. -- Deathshead419

[AN: Had to change a little spelling because found a real person with a similar name]

All his life, Menson had heard dad's tall tales of his adventures. The most re-told was how he wrecked a pirate ship and took all the gold for himself. Then how he had to bury the treasure because the boat he could make to escape the island was too small to carry it and his supplies for the journey.

There was a map and everything. A poorly-made map, but a map all the same. It could vaguely match several islands on the expert-level maps.

None of the features on dad's map matched any of the features on any of the islands. A couple were close, but there were no exact links. Which, as time went by, drove Menson slowly nuts.

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With good fortune, I'll be back on an even keel tomorrow.

B'Nar got rejected this morning. Unrelated to the Goblining going on. So that's another downer in my day. Huzzah.

I hope to lock in and get the story done soon, but I'm also wrangling bread, so there's some fun times going. I may or may not have time to play, but if I do, it shall be play that can be interrupted. Because bread.

But at least there shall be new loaves before the fam manages to chew through the last of the old loaves. I think I might actually have good timing this time.

Onwards to the storytelling.

Victoria Constance Emilia Stanford has become a goddess, enjoying her new form and her husband. Alas, it seems that some desperate folks from a drought stricken land would like to enjoy her powers, for they kidnap her from the shores in the dead of night whilst her husband and father in law slept.

This is unlikely to end well for anyone involved…

Sequel to: https://peakd.com/fiction/@internutter/challenge-04815-m066-bride-of-the-son-of-the-volcano-god -- Deathshead419

There was a new goddess, though few in Arunem could pronounce her name. What they did know was that she could revitalise land devastated by disasters. They knew how to spot her from a distance. Skin the colour of marble. Hair that flowed down instead of curling up. And, of course, seedlings sprouted wherever she walked. She lived on the islands of Blessed-By-Maugamu, and all of Arunem had heard of how they prospered.

All of Arunem needed her presence, and the Baushau tribe didn't want to go through any formalities. Their lands were burning-dry and their food plants were dying. Soon, the people would be dying. They landed in the night and made sure she slept with cloth soaked in dreamweed wine, so they could carry her away.

They made sure she was tied up and secure in their canoe before they launched to race to their homeland.

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