Archive | October 3, 2014

Strong Enough?

“I’m telling you, man, she’s something else. She’s in here like she’s on the prowl, on the huuunt.” Ted drew the word out like he was tasting it. “When’s the last time you saw a chick in here like that?”

“Well, a),” Rick ticked off on a finger, “we haven’t seen her yet, and 2), I haven’t seen a chick in here at all, except Patty the bartender, since Donnie’s wife came in after him. This is a sports bar, bro, and there’s nothing here but a giant sausage fest.”

“And beer.” Donnie demonstrated by slinging his beer back in one giant swig. “And my good friends Jack and Johnny. Think you’ve had too much to drink, Teddy boy.”

“What about you?” The whisky contralto snuck up on them, the sort of voice that tightened their pants and sped up their heart rates. “Are you strong enough?”

To a man, the Tuesday poker club turned to look. She was leaning over some poor slob at the bar, Craig, wasn’t it, the one whose wife had vanished. She wasn’t dressed sexy – white button-down and blue jeans – but she made it sexy anyway, made it deathly hot. “Are you?”

Craig belched blearily at her. “Babe, I’m strong enough for whatever you want.”

“I don’t think you are.” She straightened up, giving them all a glance of her white lace bra. Her eyes landed on Rick. “What about you, sweetheart? Are you strong enough?”

Rick had learned a thing or two from his older sisters. He met her gaze and held it, never mind how the jeans were hugging every inch of her thighs like he’d like to, never mind the white lace bra. “Miss, if you put a challenge before me, I’ll do my best to meet it.”

“Well then.” Teddy was right. Her smile was predatory. “Maybe you will be enough.”

My Dungeon & Cave Call is open!

We all know where this is going, but if you want to see more, drop a tip in, ah, the tip handcuffs:

This story written to @dahob’s prompt.

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Rock, Hard, Now what? (A story beginning for the Dungeon Call, @rix_Scaedu)

“Well.” The princess looked at the man kneeling in front of her. He, in turn glared up at her. “This is certainly a situation.”

“No.” His voice was harsh. “This is an inconvenience. What happens when you let me out of the chains – that’s a situation.”

“It certainly could be.” She perched on an upholstered stool and studied him. He was all over muscle, fighter-style, and all over bruises and cuts. He was kneeling because he’d been chained that way, and even the chains, thick as her wrist, looked as if they were straining to hold him. “But here’s the problem. I don’t want to be here, you don’t want to be here. And any solution that leads to one of us not being here leads to us both ending up dead.”

“How do you figure, princess?” He sneered her title like an insult.

She didn’t respond in kind. “You heard my father. I have to survive you for a year. And you have to survive me – which, I admit, should be easier for you.” She ran her fingers over the hilt of her belt-knife. She wasn’t helpless – but she had to sleep sometime.

“Like he’d kill his precious daughter.”

“He is the King, and he gave his word. Emotion is secondary to honor.” She needed to move. She stayed sitting down. “And if you kill me, you won’t make it out of the city.”

“I might.”

“But you probably won’t.” She leaned down until she could look him levelly in the face. “So. Neither of us want to be here. How do we get through this?”

My Dungeon & Cave Call is open!

If you want more of this story – and this one could go on for a while!! – drop a tip in, ah, the tip handcuffs:

This story written to [personal profile] rix_scaedu‘s prompt. It is, I have to admit, a story I’ve tried to write several dozen times – however, this is the first time in quite a few years. So it’s new, right?

Next: Two Rocks & a Bunch of Pebbles

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Character Description: The Samurai Catboy


Austin is Jenner’s grandson, which matters only for my notes.

He has sandy blonde hair, generally tousled and sun-bleached.

His face is shaped like this guy:×540/fit/hostedimages/1379755857/164716.jpg but he’s a very smiley sort, always grinning.

His skin is sun-baked, darkly tanned. His eyes are light hazel.

He’s a short kid, he’ll eventually reach around 5’6″ tall, wiry, athletic.

He has cat ears – tawny yellow, like a ginger kitty, with white fuzz on the inside – whiskers, and a long kitty tail (long-furred, so like )

He’s wearing a simple black kimono ( with a white under kimono and a grey-black-and-white plaid obi (pardon if terms are off, it’s been a long time)

What am I missing?

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“Come back to me. Anton, come back to me.”

The words swam into focus slowly. The boy squeezed his eyes more tightly closed. “N-n-nooaw.”

“Yes, Anton.” Her voice was soft, patient, but implacable. That was how she always was. “Come back to me, Anton O Gwydion. Wake up to yourself, Anton.”

She was stroking him, running her hands through his fur – no, through his hair. The boy liked it when she petted him. It made everything feel a little more real. “No?” he tried again. This time, it came out as a word and not a meowl.

“That’s my boy. How does your tail feel?”

“Gone.” That was the saddest part of coming back. “Missing.”

“There will be time for a tail again.” Her hand rested at the small of his back. “How do your ears feel?”

“Inadequate.” He jerked up one paw – hand, hand – to scratch at his short, round, naked ear. “Short.”

“Good. There will be time for those ears. How are your words?”

He ran the back of his hand over his mouth. “Sufficient.” Losing the tail sucked. Getting his words back felt like buckling himself back into a straightjacket. “Do I have to?”

“Not yet, kitten. Not if you don’t want to.” She kneaded at the small of his back. “You can sit here in the sunbeam as long as you need to.”

“Thank you.” He rolled onto his back, exposing his naked belly. “You’re nice.” They both knew he could only stay here a little while – eventually, his responsibilities would notice he was gone – but it was nice to be able to sit between the cat and the man for a while and be petted.

My Dungeon & Cave Call is open!

If you want more of this story – and I’m sure I could come up with more of this! – drop a tip in, ah, the tip handcuffs:

This story written to Sky’s prompt and is set in my Tír na Cali universe.

This entry was originally posted at You can comment here or there.

A Rescue, of Sorts (A story for the Caves-and-Dungeons #Promptcall)

He would never admit it if you asked, but Daxton found something relaxing about being chained up in the Red Queen’s dungeon. There was regular, if boring, food, a nice hour of full sunlight every day, and the expectations were amazingly simple: all he had to to was continue to say “no” to the Red Queen, which wasn’t as hard as she’d like to think it was, and the food would keep coming and the bucket-of-tepid-water-baths would keep him from stinking too bad for her royal nose.

It wasn’t an ideal situation, of course, but Daxton had found that there were few situations in life that were ideal. Farmers were at the whim of the weather and the magic storms. Merchants were at the whim of their supply and the demand. Daxton was either at the whim of his Ducal father, or he was at the whim of the Red Queen.

The Red Queen had informed Daxton that his father had hired mercenaries to rescue him, and had then, rather cheerfully, told him every time they failed. Daxton had been Outraged Of Course and secretly a little bit relieved. It was thus with some dismay that he found his early-afternoon sunbath being interrupted by a few very quiet thuds from outside his cell door.

He sat up, because it wouldn’t do to be rescued looking like he wanted to be here, but kept his legs in the sunbeam. The stone walls were cold, and he liked the warmth.

In a surprisingly short time, the door to his cell swung open. A merc – the light leather armor was good-quality but not government-issue and almost hid the fact that she was, under it all, probably a woman – slipped through, closing the door almost all the way behind her.

A woman. Well, that explained one of the things the Red Queen had been joking about. And his father did, after all, have other sons. “I’m very grateful for your rescue-“

A gloved hand slapped over Daxton’s mouth before he could get to the but. “Speeches later. Unchaining and running now.”

My Dungeon & Cave Call is open!

If you want more of this story – and there is more dying to be written – drop a tip in, ah, the tip handcuffs:

This story written to [personal profile] ysabetwordsmith‘s prompt.


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Everyone Else is doing it: October Goals

1) Finish at least one project around the house.
2) Regularly empty the kitty litters
3) Equally regularly clean up the “snail trail” (as T. refers to it) of stuff left ’round the house (i.e., this morning it would be the charm box from my birthday-present charm)
4) Track food daily in myfitnesspal
5) get 30 minutes of exercise at least 3x/week.

Wish me luck!

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