#lisa frank gulch

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A Girl And Her Dog chapter five, I am going somewhere with this I swear.

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Hi, I am transgender and old, and I like hurting all my protagonists a lot! These are finished and free to read I think

Girl Bites God my NaNoWriMo Novel (bad)

Vivisection biohorror mechs and t4t sex, short story

Bad Guns Shoot Fast In A Small Town (But I Shoot Nakeder) the first Lisa Frank Gulch story and first thing I wrote after being in an explosion, short story

Last Call, the third Lisa Frank Gulch short story

Currently in progress with my writing buddy rox and prose is Genghis Khan and the Wolf Girl, probably a novel eventually about a transgender werewolf girl who forges a special friendship with a wild, 6 billion year old alien warship.

Also some other trans writing by trans people for trans people Amber Skies, Emerald Seas, and Land of the Falling Sun

i am like. SO HUNGRY for fiction written by trans people that’s just that little bit fucked up and juicy and gripping but i can’t find any fucking recs because all the lists are like “150 books with trans stories!” and 145 of them are the same copy pasted young adult romance/anti-romance shit with 14 year old protagonists and the other 5 is shit i’ve already read

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When you want to kill a god let someone else do it and rob them.

A Girl And Her Dog continues

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A Girl And Her Dog continues, slowly.

I don't know how to make this sound interesting because it's more like "aggressively unreadable." If you like this paragraph read more:

Champion shuffled ways cross the brutal Blackstone Desert, trusted gun girl waked behind. Girl ever-present for Champ. He hungered, she provided tender lizard boiled in the shell, cracked crystal crabs. Pain, hands gentle pon his muscles, threaded twixt bristled fur and plated skin. Always nearby, even far Champ sighted her same as he worldsighted danger.

Probably it will not have a horrible sad ending though.

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A Girl And Her Dog, put up the first bit.

Look, this is gonna be awhile.

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I write my stories at night. A Girl And Her Dog 7. How about it, how about it. There's even a little background.

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dropping a line to say I love gkw so so much!! I am rooting for The Nameless Duo so hard and also manifesting a less bananas day for Serah

I went through my tags to find and reread Briar City as well and fundamentally I love your writing so much. your worldbuilding is phenomenal and if you ever put your stories up on AO3 or your own site please holler about it because I will bookmark those SO FAST

In Conclusion: I simply love everyone so much and want Our Nameless Hero(es) to have a Nice Restful Day at some point in their newly free lives

That is incredibly kind and getting positive feedback on writing is helping me keep going these days. I have got an AO3 here, which includes last year's complete nanowrimo Girl Bites God (not my best work), the biohorror transbian mecha story "Vivisection", and several Lisa Frank Gulch short stories (also the incomplete "Girl And Her Dog" because I realized there were several important details wrong and I have to revise it). You need to be logged in to see some of them.

Fun fact about Briar City: I don't know if you've seen the Fortunes asks I do, but Briar City and those asks share the same world. I have to finish Briar City because the ending is very important for me.

Serah is intended to be a recurring character for GKW, and there are some actual names coming soon, including a title, which should explain what GKW actual stands for. It's a little different because it's a collaboration between @rox-and-prose and myself, because we tend to develop interesting characters and ideas together. We are also working on some further adaptations of the story, even though it's still being written. The more you know.

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Might have accidentally just made my nonbinary it/its tech / wizard the protagonist and hero of my hyperfuturistic post-apocalyptic death world setting.

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Last Call

Marlowe stepped the gap from the greatcrete tomb off northeast El Camino Cross, hitching up the heavy canvass on its shoulder over the way. Crystal weed had pushed loose some tooth deepways down and open-maw crete had met Marlowe under the first glimmer of the big rad. It'd hesitated less'n sip before creeping in. Bountiful haul, Marlowe leapt one crete boulder to other and walked its way over towards the big East Sink.

Neath the great crossings above, most all El Camino daybedded in the Big Sink, snug bugs safe from the big rad and the little rad over head til falls stars. Marlowe shaded its eyes while it walked, tint layover the many lensed glass. Big rad glittered the flakes in its bronze skin, warm and welcome. Its parents promised it the future, the world and the suns for that glitter, more than gold, so they said, next gen new ways, future of humanities and hopeful for the steam pacts.

Took a walkover ways to the east cross corner and those little crete walls half in the Big Sink, minuteswise enough to put the promises behind it. Sat looking deep dark, legs kicked over the edge and nextout the haul from the tombs. Good old metal, pre-cataclysm. Wires and miles of it, Marlowe figured. Old world plastics, pretty petty trades for sugar and spice. Marlow rubbed its hand through its short, tight curled hair. Trembles at the tips, stilled to hold its treasure. Tech of the ancients, full intact, no crack.

Altogether a couple shoe sizes, heavy bulk old metals, not like those soft sweet ores from the Big Sink. Faint sounds of the imps driving new roads clattered reverseways to its ears, hoots and jeers to beat back the fears. Part held together by wires - no, connected, click and clack, something like a flatout pistol with no trigger loosed up. Sidewired, loose - no, not broken, it still moves, thought Marlowe, twisting the thick wire on the side sunways and flat. Squares of plastic all glued up under another metal cover. Marlowe went from trembling to tensed, its fingers nimble known, same sharp hands built the backup arm on its back, spring and cranky but reliable. Much of the same hope laid on Marlowe's shoulders held there that mech arm.

Plastic glowed, metal squealed under Marlowe's fingers, it jumped, clutched tight the treasure, the living metal itself. It spoke the metal, the flat pistol shape in its hands, Marlowe lifted it to its ears and listed to the voice of the ancients, spoken like falling crystal:

"This is tower to caller, respond. … This is tower to caller, respond. … This is-"

"Heard," said Marlowe.

"This is tower. Please wait."

Eyed the flat shape to be some old comm, Marlowe heard a few but never firsthand marveled. Both ends had even slits, sound from one only.

"New user authorized. Confirm."

"Confirmed?" Marlowe waited a moment more.

"Received. Time and coordinates marked. New user, return to these coordinates and time stamp in one planet rotation cycle."

"What?" The snapping and whine had stopped. The comm was silent. "Speak up? I command the clouds to voice!" Nothing worked. Marlowe clocked the sun, popped the lock on its helper arm and x-marked the spot. The sun was young and the Sink was deep.

****

My name is Tower. I am 65 meters long, at my longest point. I have a 50 meter dish and my primary body is 21 meters wide.

I am alone.

I am 35,100 kilometers above the assignment. I have watched the sun of the assignment become two suns. I have watched the stars for 525,870,001 operational hours. I have performed my assigned task twice. My task has ceased to affect my assignment for the previous 2,093,640 operational hours.

At one time, there were twenty seven others like me. Now I am alone.

I count the visible stars for the one hundred and twentieth billion three hundred and seventeenth million eight hundred and ninety eight thousandth nine hundred and third time this operational minute.

I wonder if my operational cycle is beginning to decay. I am aware that my assignment does not include the capacity to wonder, or the concept of being alone.

I am not alone. I consider my eagerness to respond to the signal. Eagerness is not included in my assignment. "This is tower to caller…"

Some time passes. I wait for my assignment to return.

****

Down the Big Sink, few lit far between, Marlowe laddered downward, evercloser to the Impact Crews, groundbreaking ore and room and more. Parents said, hope, up, steamwise and surfacebound, chain wrapped it in future hopes. New gen, promised all, so it goes, with no hand in by Marlowe, only told to climb, ascend. And what joy its skilled hands wrought to life, the mecha and flow of El Camino, another heir to the pacts of Steam.

Marlowe downward climbed, hopes below, hands down reaching, dark seeking. It read the future in the petrol dark oil, lines of soft glimmer, next gen the dust beneath their toes. Marlowe made its way along fresh hewn tunnel, bottom floor, everyone off, newest rooms brought to life by the El Camino imps. It knocked gainst the rock and pale hands pushed aside canvas flap, glitter glow eyes met Marlowe's deep dark brown, thin lips from sharp teeth joined. Marlow slid its hands round this pale form, scattered with stiff bristle hair, near quills, swept sparse over blue white skin. Those same pale hands, pale arms, enfolded together, bodies pressed close and tongues found twined. Kissed deeper than the bottomless sink, hungrier than the big salt flats, brighter than the big rad, til parted only by the dawning breath.

"Juke," Marlowe said, leaned its head against his. "Missed you evermuch."

Juke smiled. His teeth as beautiful as the light reflecting inside his eyes. Not all next gen so surface bound as the caged hopes round Marlowe. Deep dark, low light living, Impact driving Juke, whose scent alone caused Marlowe's heart to punch its chest. "Wishing for you evermuch," he said. Teasing. "Even half a day overlong?"

"Even an hour," Marlowe added, squeezing Juke in its arms. "Even a minute overlong."

Black nails, talons from Juke's paper skin, wrapped Marlowe's hands, the nails scraping along its flecked skin with stone sounds. Marlow squeezed back, pressed itself closer. They together drew canvas curtains and bedsheets down and met desires with flesh and blood for some time, hours of the young and fragile world til they gasped air, bound by sweat and eyegaze locked.

"Missed you evermuch," said Juke.

"Everalways yours," said Marlowe. "And more to show and tell, future of signs to come." It reached out from the knotted sheets for its canvass sack, there to display the finds of the ancients for Juke, Juke the only future Marlowe held in hand. Plastic treasure and more, the comm and story of the tower. The promises yet to come. The sun moving overhead, far above the dark. Blankets wrapped round again, harsh drinks and distilled lichen, sweet words til sadly parted again.

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I just remembered that I have the perfect place for her in Lisa Frank Gulch so she gets to take on life as a properly living breathing unfranchised character on the radiation blasted graveyard of the gods where everyone is dying and no one is ironic. Also swap shark and possum for "mostly goat" with a little bit of moray eel.

If I was building a Star Wars character let me tell you the stupidest imaginable things she would do.

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A Girl And Her Dog - A tribute/fuck you to "A Boy & His Dog," Viktor Blud is the telepathic despot of the Gravestone River, but that won't stop Rosalie and her dog Champion from going after him to take their revenge. Champ is more of a borzoi pangolin monstrosity than a dog but let's not get picky. The setting is a sort of post apocalyptic weird west on the planet where gods go to die. As seen in Lisa Frank Gulch.

Short Change Hero - Down on her luck two and a half foot ex-allotment farmer turned hopeful adventurer turned disillusioned bouncer / part time leg-breaker Obsidian Bonesplinter didn't want to rock the boat but when her old family shows up in the magical city Eliriad they get caught up in a bad way. Now she's got a dead body to explain and a murder to solve if she doesn't want the cops to pin it all on her and the only roommate she ever had with a steady job. A hardboiled noir mystery taking place in a fantasy world of magic and elves and fantastical creatures.

Saw Down Heaven - Follow up to Girl Bites God, a ragtag band of queers and superhumans try to drive police out of their local community and set up a patrol free zone outside of the reach of law enforcement and, worse, the FCC. With the help of the mutant ringworm colony and hole in reality which together animate the undead corpse of Alice Buzzsaw (aka the Suicide Gorgon) and escaped mental patient AthenA Six, maybe they can pull it off. Takes place in the disentangled world, a setting where our world is slowly being folded into a parallel reality where physical matter never existed.

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I went looking for Lisa Frank Gulch and can only find parts 2 and 3 on ao3?

Some of my writing requires you to be logged into AO3, which requires an AO3 account.

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23 (describe the physical environment in which you write)

Wherever I got my laptop or phone.

I wrote that Lisa Frank Gulch story laid up on pleather hotel couch, on my phone, and a bunch of fairy tails sitting on the stairs on my laptop, and stuff in the corner of where I work and in a regular bed, or when I'm out somewhere and bored.

Writing is as portable as I am..

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Thinking of this because my new WIP is about Marlowe.

I go to all the trouble of giving a character it/its pronouns and naming it Marlowe and in a year still not one bit of recognition for the incredible "It Marlowe" wordplay.

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2, 4, 6, 10

2 - most looking forward to in current or future project:

I'm very nervous I won't be able to stick the landing in "Last Call" because it hinges on bringing a lot together at the same time and I keep dragging my feet on the lead up.

Desperately looking forward to having time and the right timing to bring Briar City to a finish, also trying to figure out if I should have not put as many people in there.

Will I be able to write th sequel to Girl Bites God?

4. A sentence you're proud of:

"Four boys make a lotta noise with their toys but I've been the loudest girl in the room damn near my whole life and a little rollin around in the dust ain't stopping me."

6. Character you have the most fun writing:

I haven't used the same character twice but I like the Lisa Frank Gulch setting the most I think. Usually also any time me n Rox bullshit about Obsidian Bonesplinter and Mara being stupid idiots arguing.

10. Your writing process:

Pick a direction, fling myself in it Wile E Coyote style. Don't worry if it's a good idea, get weird and have fun. Avoid binaries and monotheism at all costs.

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For writer asks: 12, 20

12. Do I want my writing to be famous

Probably. I'd be happy if I my life could consist of writing and drawing without including a full time job to support the things I like. It would be nice it my arty shit got the same attention as my shitposting.

20. Meta stuff?

I was pretty proud of myself for on the fly thinking of the recurring grasshopper motif in Girl Bites God, and also creating the entire history of Lisa Frank Gulch from earth to the death world and the present while lying on a pleather hotel couch that was too small for me and my cat while recovering from burn scars and a coma.