Another BigCloset TopShelf story.
In chapter 5, Joanie has a nice meal, meets the cream of the Dairy State's mutants, gets early results from her medical and powers exams, and finds her social calendar may get very busy, fast.
Andy Warhol said,"In the future, everyone will be famous for 15 minutes." What if your 15 minutes came late in life, and fame decided to never let you go? Could you survive the circus your life would become?
Timeout-Stop/Playback/Rewind: A Whateley Academy Fanfiction
This is fan fiction for the Whateley Academy series. It may or may not match the timeline, characters, and continuity, but since it's fan fiction, who cares? To see the canon Whateley Stories, check out either Sapphire's Place,
(http://www.sapphireplace.com/stories/whateley.html) or the Big Closet (http://bigclosetr.us/topshelf/taxonomy/term/117)."
This is my first attempt at writing a TG/sci-fi piece. I’m confident it’s derivative, unimaginative, dull, unitentionally plageristic, ungramatical and possibly hazardous to ones health. I ask you be gentle and constructive in your criticism. I’ve been a good boy, scouts honor. I did this for fun and in my appreciation of the wonderful Whateley Universe. Take it in that spirit and enjoy. Remember this is non-canon not cannon fodder. All rights reserved in perpetuity, John from Wauwatosa WI, 2005 yada, yada, yada. See my agent at the Sirius Cybernetics Corp. for further details. Please don’t hit me!
p.s. Any sugestions as to a better agent or agency are welcome, share and enjoy!
Timeout
By John from Wauwatosa
Chapter 5-MSG and I’m a What?
Oriental Express’s Chinese Buffet Restaurant, Madison WI,July 10th, 2006
Yah yah dear diary/journal/whatever, I know chapter 4 goes from July 8th to 18th, but chapter 5 is July 10th, so sue me. It’s not like I’m all that competent with my warper powers yet, so I do tend to mess up the time line on occasion. Don’t worry; I’ll fix it long before Jerry Lewis is even close to becoming the 40th President. Hey it could be worse and that Regan guy gets in. Fooled you! Um, Regan never was President, was he? On second thought, maybe it’s easier to edit my diary/journal/whatever.
I ate with Carrie and Sara that evening at a local Chinese buffet. Cheap, tasty, and I was finally out of the hospital, whoopee! Well for a few hours anyhow. I said as much to them between mouthfuls.
“You needed to get out. All work and no play make Joanie a sad mutant,” Carrie said. Her mom just smiled unconcerned. I was worried with a capital W.
“What are you doing, Carrie, trying out me?” I whispered angrily in her ear. “You have no idea who might overhear that. If the wrong person hears or tells I’m dog meat.”
Carrie replied nonchalantly in a normal voice, “Nobody here cares that you’re a mutant, Joanie.”
“What? I thought you were a friend,” I nearly shouted.
I took a breath, turned and spoke in a low voice.
“And you, Doctor Sara.” I said, putting emphasis on Doctor, I was livid. ”My own doctor not caring a hoot about my safety. If this is how you really think of me, I’m out of here!”
I got up to leave. At that point, Sara then Carrie broke out in the biggest giggle fit I’d ever witnessed. Mad as I was, I got caught up in it, collapsing back in my chair crying and laughing my head off. Despite my distraction, I noticed all the other dozen or so patrons and workers in the restaurant laughing or smiling as well.
Once things calmed down, I asked out loud, “Would someone please tell me what’s going on here?”
I noticed a closed private party sign hung on the glass entrance door. A powerfully built, short twenty something man spoke first.
“I’m Badger Boy, and yes, I look a bit like and have similar abilities to that larger member of the weasel-family-monikered super hero but my claws are titanium, not adamantium steel. The cute oriental girl filling the buffet - she smiled and waved at me - is Ginseng Glory; she’s our resident magic user and has TK powers. The man at the register owns the restaurant; he’s Oriental Express and is a speedster.”
“So this is the Mutant Support Group you told me about the other day, Sara,” I said, then it hit me, MSG? “MSG meeting in a Chinese restaurant, that’s sick. Sara Sara Sara, shame on you. I damn near wet my panties.”
I grinned my biggest, happiest grin. I was Safe!
“You are as quick as Doc Sara said,” one of a pair of identical-twin college age boys said.
“And I’m happy to say you’re every bit as lovely as she claimed,” said his other half.
“We’re projecting empaths, and I think you’re one hot babe too,” said twin #one.
“And you two are?” I asked.
“The Platteville Pair,” they said in perfect unison. “Yes, we know it’s a lame code name, but the Dynamic You-Know-What is sooo copyrighted.”
“Holy injunction, Plattmen! To the Platt-cave!” I just couldn’t resist. I could hardly keep from singing, “Dada dada dada dada dada dada dada dada Plattmen!”
Okay, so I didn’t resist that either, I’m weak.
“Oooh ... that is just sooo BAD, I hope you’re one of the good guys and gals. If you’re not, were all DOOMED!” said an Amazon of a twenty-something redhead. “I’m Big Red, your basic super powered ‘brick’ little Miss Pun-O-Matic,” Red said with a silly grin on top her impressive frame.
“Little Miss? I’ll have you know I’m a full six foot plus, these babies are all mine,” I said pushing up my breasts with both hands, “And my hair is not out of a bottle Ms. Clairol light auburn!”
Red looked mad, maybe her hairdresser did know? I calmed down or got sane, whichever.
“Don’t hit me,” I said in my best impression of a kid caught with her hand in the cookie jar; I opened my eyes wide and innocent, a sexy pout on my lips.
“Oh you!” she exclaimed straining to hold in her laughter.
I wised up, finally.
“You’re one of the nurses from the mutant wing, I recognize you from my lab tests and my unintentional fashion show the other day.”
I walked over and put out my hand to shake hers. She wrapped me up in a more than friendly bear hug as one hand squeezed my ass cheek.
~ Is she coming on to me? ~
She let go but gave me a good, slow, look up and down.
“I said it then, and I’ll say it now: you’re gonna need a really big stick to beat off the boys ... and the girls too,” she whispered that last bit in my ear.
Well now I knew which side of the fence she was on or straddling, or maybe she was just winding me up. I was so awestruck, I was verging on clueless or was it just my hormones?
Carrie introduced the rest of the group. “The spiky haired boy is Hodag; he’s an energizer. Don’t let him near your computers or TV. The boy with the crimson hair and cowboy shirt is The Cranberry Kid, he’s a TK flier. The Viking centerfold is Glacier Girl; she absorbs heat. Next to her,” she pointed at a spectacularly curvaceous brunette in bib overalls, “is Dairy Maid, a great devisor/gadgeteer. Last but not least, the young man in the cargo pants, duster, rock-pick holsters and cowboy boots is Driftless Dan. I forget what he is,” Carrie said grinning.
“Driftless Dan, how’d you get that moniker?” I asked.
“Cause I live in the driftless area. Don’t you know your Wisconsin geology?”
“Oh, where the glaciers didn’t reach or didn’t reach much. No glacial drift, i.e. no glacial deposits, thus driftless area,” I replied — I’m not a ‘blonde’, I only play one in real life.
“Beauty and brains yet nearly a blonde, amazing,” Driftless Dan smiled then slouched back in his chair. “By the way I’m a phase shifter and have electromagnetic powers. The rock picks help me focus that last power.”
Sara spoke, “I brought Joanie along to our bi-monthly meeting to prove to her she’s not alone in this. If we can move into a circle here, I’d like you to tell Joanie and the rest of us a bit about your powers and origin. Joanie’s still is being evaluated, so we don’t know her powers in any detail, but they’re definitely warper class.” Several looked impressed as warpers are comparatively rare I was told later.
“Joanie, do you have a code name yet?” asked Ginseng Glory; that girl had pixie cute down to a science.
“No, not yet, I’m very new at all this mutant business,” I said a bit timidly.
“Gin, Joanie’s mutation started this July third,” said Sara.
“Wow, no wonder I’ve not seen you here before. I’d remember you if I had. By the way, I was the sorceress that evaluated you in the lab,” said Gin.
She had a hungry look in her eyes. What am I, bi-bait? I’ve been in the group barely ten minutes and at least three have hit on me if you count Platt-man two or was that Platt-man one — sorry, four people.
“You know,” I said very matter of fact, “A famous comic book superhero once said ‘with great powers come great ... risk of lawsuits for copyright infringement.’ Or something to that effect;“ I said -- several members snickered, “But with the way you guys and gals have treated me, it should read ‘with great powers come great libidos.’ My social calendar will be booked for months sorting through you lot.”
Most of the gang laughed, Sara rolled her eyes at me, but a few blushed with embarrassment. Now I really know why they call her Big Red.
“Sorry if I hurt anyone’s feelings, but seeing as we’re all young looking and super whatever, we’re bound to be a bit wild in the hormone department,” I said; Sara nodded. “Hey, I don’t mind, flirt away, just don’t get too serious about it. I haven’t sorted out myself out yet,” I said, then I laughed slightly nervously but it felt good to get it out in the open.
The Mutant Support Group, MSG, proved a big help, I kept in touch with them often, Big Red stopping by my room regularly and e-mailing me when she was out of town on MSG business. Privately a very soft, sweet gal despite her impressive build and brick powers, I think she saw me as her “little sister” as we were physically similar. At least that’s what I thought then, though later ... Sara had kindly provided me an encrypted laptop, so I could remain discreetly in touch with my immediate family. My dad and sister knew I’d had an “accident” and could not have any visitors but were out of the loop for now. Once my powers were evaluated, we would know if it was safe to try and resume my old life.
The next few weeks and months were a blur of woman 101, taught by Carrie and some members of MSG, particularly Big Red and Ginseng Glory. Red and Gin were especially helpful in developing my sense of fashion and social graces, respectively. This is not to diminish Carrie’s role in the least, she was the glue that held everything together, very sexy looking glue at that; damn my new hormones. Red and Gin supplemented Carrie, they did not replace her. Red’s 6ft 2in flawless Amazon body with her pale skin and red hair was much closer to my appearance than Carrie’s, as lovely as the 5ft 6in olive skinned brunette was. Gin, though equally attractive, was a pixyish Hmong descendant, so styles suitable for her seldom worked for me. That was very important, as the purpose of all this was to reintegrate me with society. I needed to look and act the part of a tall, pretty teen coming of age. Hide in plain sight comes to mind. It’s not so much I wanted to dress and act like I eventually did; it’s that I had to for my own safety.
Gin came from an immigrant Hmong family in Wausau not far from Poniatowski, may that name ever be cursed or blessed. Hers are very traditional parents but pragmatic and want the best for their three daughters. Gin, the oldest, is the only mutant so far. As to her magic and TK powers, she’s a Tasmanian devil, but it was her social skills I needed. From Gin, I’ve learned quiet grace and elegant manners. I’ve become quite a refined young lady, honest, no lying. - Note: sticks out tongue defiantly. - It was on an end of summer road trip, with Gin, Carrie and Red, that I made the breakthrough utilizing on my powers.
Sara, Alex and my friends at MSG tried every trick they had to get my powers to surface, but it fizzled mostly. They tried hypnotherapy, sleep deprivation, drugs, visualization, role playing, hand to hand combat, even electrical shocks but to little effect. A few times in tests, the precision chronometers showed a difference between my personal time and the real world. It was just a momentary asynchronicity, a few tenths of a second but it was measurable. For comparison, the Apollo 12 Moon landing was the furthest and fastest mankind had traveled, at that point. They theoretically earned a few billionths of a second overtime due to relativistic effects. Sara and Alex were excited when this occurred.
“Just relax and don’t think too much; it will come to you in time,” Sara offered.
“Your first time powers episode was by accident, maybe you’ll rediscover them in the same way; One day nothing then the next, Eureka,” suggested Alex.
“Alex, what would I be doing at a boat lock on the upper Fox River? I don’t even own a boat.”
“Eureka, very funny, Ms. Wisconsin Atlas.”
Alex smiled his usual “Oh Baby, want to come to my place and fornicate?” smile. I figured he did it unconsciously, but when I asked Carrie, she said about the only time she’d seen him do it recently was when I was around.
“I have to talk with him in private real soon. Know any place I can get a large can of pepper spray? It’s either that, or he gets neutered.”
Carrie laughed but she knew my discomfort with my newfound status of walking, talking sex object. My big shock came when Carrie admitted to not being immune to my newfound charms and didn’t want to be either.
~Oh my! ~
Sara had told me I could tell her or her daughter my darkest secrets as they were there to help me and considered me a friend. Carrie confessed the night after our dinner with Alex that she was bi and felt a growing attraction to me. It was more than just the “forbidden fruit” aspect of being a patient or the “exotic appeal” of my being a former man, it was the “Goldilocks Syndrome” as I came to call it. Big Red was too red and strong, Ginseng Glory was too dark and too petite, but I was strawberry blonde and just right.
“If it bothers you, I can get Mom to assign another girl to you, Gin or Red would be good choices,” she said this apologetically and looked sad.
“No no, Carrie, that’s unnecessary. It’s very forthright of you tell me, and I don’t think any less of you personally or professionally. I’m flattered, honest.”
She relaxed and smiled. I resolved to stroke her libido or was I mine?
“If anything it will make you a better instructor in the womanly arts,” I said sensuously.
She perked up and asked, “Womanly arts, Joanie?”
“After girl 101, I’m eventually going to need some, um ... advanced education. Give me a little more time; I may just need you for some one-on-one instruction,” I smiled seductively.
She made this high, squeaky shriek, then gave me a most wonderful hug and polite kiss on my cheek.
“My pleasure, Carrie,” I said softly, I meant it too.
~ Whoa that felt gooood. ~
“You’ve made me so happy. If you really mean it I can wait, Joanie.”
Okay diary/journal/whatever readers, now that its some five months later and I’ve left Madison for Whateley, what if anything happened between Carrie, Red, Gin or even Alex and yours truly? None of your damn business! I may throw you a crumb or two later but for now, suffice it to say, I didn’t leave Madison because of any of them. I’ll let my recollections of the Labor Day road trip speak for itself, when I get to it.
* * * *
December 13, 2006 somewhere in Pennsylvania on the Amtrak Lake Shore Limited, 5:30pm CST
Sorry diary/journal/whatever readers for jumping off track. Here I’m talking about my emerging sexuality and I haven’t even described the results of all those tests. I was curious too at the time, still am. That’s another reason for my trip to Whateley; they still haven’t fully determined my powers or their extent. We know a lot more, and I have considerable control over two of them now, though not in time to prevent a lot of complications that made my choice of Whateley all the more urgent. Mind you something good, very good, came of it, I’ll explain later. Anyway, there are still some blanks to fill powers wise, thus Sara and her mentor both recommended Whateley, so here I am derailed in a manner of speaking. Speaking of jumping off the track, that’s why I’m stuck here in the middle of Nowheresville PA, we’re waiting for track repairs. Should still make Whateley on time, I planned for this.
* * * *
I met with Sara, Alex and Carrie a few days after our night out.
“Joanie, we’re stuck for the moment on how to proceed with your powers training. Frankly, we still don’t have your mutant powers fully categorized or rated beyond a rough and ready guesstimate. I’ll summarize were we are now, then we can look at were you need to go. Between the four of us, we should come up with something productive,” Sara said.
“I’m listening, Sara.” I said.
“For now, I’ve classified you a level 2 or 3 exemplar and a warper, subclass time sensitive, level unknown but probably 3 or above. You’re a high level regen, level 4 or higher and there’s an outside chance you’re an empath/telepath, but we’re not sure.” Sara waited for this to sink in then went on. “In plain English, exemplar means you’re an idealized version of yourself, the level 2 or 3 means your physical measures are as strong, flexible, quick and attractive as a human can be without being superhuman. In all physical aspects, you’re human but a very fine one.”
“So no super powers then? I so wanted a cape, boots and spandex body suit,” I said, then pouted — why did I do that?
“Not like in the comic books, no, Joanie. No heat vision, super speed or mega strength, but with some practice you could kick ass in the WAAU or NCAA,” Alex added. “You have world or even Olympic class physical performance but are no brick or speedster.”
“So the exemplar stuff means I’m a very athletic and attractive girl, but what does the rest mean?”
Sara spoke. “We’ve confirmed you’re a warper with time related powers. Warpers manipulate space-time, the very fabric of the physical universe. Potentially very powerful but usually limited to specific abilities. Some warpers fold space-time and teleport objects or themselves. Some warpers alter their density or their phase and can pass through solid objects. Think of phase as similar to a radio frequency. Some warpers bend light or alter their density and become invisible. Warpers are not a common type of mutant, but you, Joanie, fall into the very rare subclass of time sensitives/time manipulators. Most see visions of the past -- your classic clairvoyant. A few can navigate the possible time streams and see a bit of the future -- these are the precognitive. You are one of the rarest of the rare, an actual time traveler/time manipulator. In theory you can physically move between the now and past points in time and back again. You can even interact and bring objects with you. The tests and day of your mutation prove most of that. You may also be able to alter the rate that time flows within a limited area. This means you may be able to slow or stop time, maybe even back it up some but to a limited extent. No clues as to you and precognitive powers, but it could be part and parcel of your class of warper.” Sara waited for my response.
“I’m a top of the line human but not superhuman, and I travel back and forth in time, interact with the past, alter or stop the flow of time over a limited area, and maybe even see into the future, but we haven’t a clue how I do it? Did I leave anything out?” I said taking a much needed breath.
“That’s basically it, Joanie, except for the regen powers,” said Alex.
“I’ll bite. What’s a regen and how does it relate to me? I’m guessing regen is short for regeneration or regenerator.” This was getting interesting.
Carrie spoke, “Very good, Joanie, regens have unusually fast or powerful abilities to heal themselves or sometimes others, and extreme resistance to disease. Mom and Alex think you’re a high level regen -- that’s level 3 and up.
“You like TV trivia? You certainly spout it often enough,” said Sara.
“Yah yah, Sara, I talk too much some, well lots of times. What’s the point?” I was a little miffed.
“We think you’re like those old watch ads, you’ll take a licking and keep on kicking.”
~Oooh that one was painful, I must be rubbing off on Sara. ~
“So you think I’m real tough. Sorry, Sara, I stubbed my toe the other night, and it hurt like hell.”
Alex spoke next, “Your resistance to injury is not so much the issue as to how fast and well you recover. You’re not bulletproof: you can’t leap over tall lawsuits in a single cliché, but should you ever get injured, even life-threatening or usually fatal injuries, you’ll quickly and flawlessly recover.”
“I can’t be permanently hurt?” This conversation was getting too strange.
“That’s what the cell cultures and your aerobic fitness results suggest. It was your pierced ears that helped clue us in on this, Joanie. I’ve sent samples and copies of your tests to a facility out East that specializes in mutants, ARC. Doctor Otto there was a mentor of mine, and he’s agreed to consult on your case, but we’re both keeping it discreet. You’re just an unknown mutant who’s undergone a male to female...
--THUMP! —
Alex? Alex? Alex can you hear me Alex?”
Sara held his limp head as he lay collapsed on the floor.
She spoke very slowly, “You didn’t tell him about that aspect of your transformation yet, did you ... Joanie.”
It was like she was Mom, and I was holding a red crayon in my hand, red crayon marks all over the wall as she waited for me to confess.
“The right moment hasn’t presented itself yet.”
“And pray tell what is the moment you were waiting for?” she said in her mother knows best tone.
“Hell freezing over felt pretty good,” I admitted sheepishly.
“Ah!” was all she said.
“I wanted to tell him for some time, but you’ve seen how he looks at me,” I tried to defend my actions or rather inaction. “Every time I got even close to talking about my big ‘secret,’ he’d get these huge puppy dog eyes and ...” I had to stop for a moment.
“You didn’t have the heart to tell him,” Carrie said completing my sentence; the girl’s an empath/telepath after all. Carrie paused for a moment, “My Ghod you’ve got the hots for Alex.”
Carries tone said she didn’t want to believe what she’d sensed in me. I wasn’t any happier myself at her revelation, but she was right.
“I may be a former man, but this body has a mind of its own. Looking at him, what gal wouldn’t be interested at some level, not that I’d do anything about it now at least,” I explained.
I’d decided it was best I talk to Carrie privately and soon to let her know that, in no uncertain terms as a former man, this woman was still attracted to particular women, and she fit the description perfectly.
Alex came to. “I just had the strangest dream; I thought you used to be a man.”
“Up ‘til July third but not anymore, sorry I didn’t tell ... Alex ... Alex?” I had more pressing issues to deal with. “Sara, while Alex recovers, okay if Carrie and I take a coffee break, back in say half an hour?”
“Sure he’ll be fine,” Sara replied.
“Carrie, let’s go.”
I smiled sweetly and motioned for her to follow. She came but still looked sadly disappointed. We found a quiet corner in the staff lounge, put down our coffees on a table and sat facing each other.
I checked we had some measure of privacy then spoke, “Carrie how do you see me? Please be honest.”
She had a confused look on her face but as she spoke it slowly shifted to one of hopeful joy.
“I see a beautiful young woman whose mind is a mix of naíve wonder at her new life and body and of years experience as a man. I see a woman full of deep regrets and fear but overall an increasing sense of joy and optimism for her future. Most of all I see a shy, almost timid individual who’s swiftly blossoming into a confident, outgoing and utterly irresistible creature I am strongly attracted to.”
“And?” I asked trying to conceal my evolving feelings for her. A look of surprised delight came on her face.
“You are attracted to me as more than a friend.” She looked very happy.
I answered teasing her a bit but in a nice way, “And why wouldn’t I be? I made a lot of mistakes in the past, and I don’t intend to repeat them. I may not feel comfortable in my new relationship to men, but I’m still attracted to women.” I paused for effect. “And you dear, Carrie, most definitely qualify as a Woman.”
“I’d like that more than you can imagine, Joanie, but I don’t want to hurt you. It’s also possible that this could be considered a breach of professional ethics on my part.” Carrie’s longing and concern were etched on her face.
“You’re not my doctor or therapist so I don’t see any conflict of interest. If we act on our feelings, it would be by two consenting adults, so don’t worry, whatever happens, happens. Okay, Carrie?”
“Okay, Joanie,” she said with a sly impish smile, “just not too slow. I turn 18 in a month after all. I wouldn’t mind a present.”
“No wonder Sara is so, you know; until 18 then, cutie.”
I gave her a peck on the cheek. I hadn’t done that in years, it felt great. We’ll see later, I guess.
~ She’s 17? ~
Carrie and I started our way back to Sara and Alex.
“Tell you one thing I learned, Carrie.”
“What’s that Joanie?”
“Now I know why Alex seemed so upset when I insisted he take us both out to dinner, professional detachment my ass.”
“I think he’s interested in more than your ass, Joanie.”
We must have been a sight giggling as we walked slowly down toward the mutant wing.
* * * *
To be continued (revised 07/30/2006)
Special thanks to my evil blonde sister for proofing assistance.
This chapter is dedicated to my older sister Ann who died 12/31/2005 aged 50. You’ll be missed, your brother John.
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Comments
I like this
Thank you for writing this interesting story,
Beyogi
.
.
I went outside once. The graphics weren' that great.
Details, details ...
It's Hmong, not Humong.
Love,
Jaclyn
Thanks for the FYI
I was not sure how to spell that one, thanks.
John in Wauwatosa
John in Wauwatosa
Fun, but. . .
Still fun to read, and I enjoyed it. One thing to say though. I lost a lot of respect for the doctor and her daughter over that "joke" they pulled on Joanie. I think one of the lower levels of hell is reserved for practical jokers. Had it been me, I'd have walked out of that restaurant and kept going. When you think about it, practical jokes are a subtle (or not so subtle) form of humiliation disguised as humour. I think it was Robert Heinlein's Lazarus Long character who recommended the bastinado for practical jokers - for the first offense.
Karen J.
"Life is not measured by the breaths you take, but by the moments that take your breath away.”
George Carlin
But Your Honor!
I does seem a bit cruel at first, but Joanie understood. In Dr, Sara's defense, Joanie has a silly sense of humor, she's an incorigible joke teller and punster so this may have been to 'get even.' Joanie knew quickly it was just a joke, albit an initially nasty one and forgave her doctor's excess. Don't worry, Joanie gets the ultimate revenge, she plays matchmaker much, much later on in the saga.
When Joanie gets to Whateley we find out Sara, who is an alumna, was a major prankster, on par with Belle Forbes. She pranked Ms. Carson and got away with it.
When I wrote it , I thought it a bit nasty too, but the doctor and Carrie are teaching Joanie to survive in a world were many are hostile to mutants. She needs to be on her guard, so it could be considered a test. That she reacted so quickly and strongly shows she's learning to protect her identity.
Practical jokes without the consent of the victim and without a clear quid pro quo are humiliation, absolutely. Those done to strangers that result in public humilation are the cruelest. Between friends, with in reason, they are a game.
Best wishes, thanks for the imput. I guess I'm doing something right if you care that much for my character's feelings. I didn't like doing it to her either.
John in Wauwatosa
John in Wauwatosa
Only Because It Drives Me Crazy...
Discrete - individual, separate
Discreet - quiet, confidential
I think in the fiction I've read online, authors get it wrong more often than they get it right, by a wide margin. It literally reached the point about a year or so ago where I'd flinch when I saw either word, correctly used or not.
Anyway, John, here's hope you'll choose the right one in future sections, or find a suitable synonym.
Thanks, Eric
Discreetly discrete
In one word the E's are completely separated by the T. In the other they sit together - whispering discreetly, I suppose.
Sorry to be indiscreet and go off on a tangent when this area is for story comments. I should keep these remarks discrete, I guess.
Like the story, John
Jan
Liberty is more than the freedom to be just like you.
Typos Are My Life
If it wasn't for the typos, my stroy would be half as entertaining.
I appreciate the technical comments as well as the plot and character questions, they all help me improve.
I'm busy with Timeout 3, Chapter 12 now, but I'll try to get back and look at the glitches, diskcre atly -- I did that deliberately.
You should have seen these the first time they posted at Crystal Hall. The stuff there went through a major re-edit in march to make it somewhat better.
John in Wauwatosa
John in Wauwatosa