Archive | October 6, 2014

Pondering Patreon

So [personal profile] clare_dragonfly has an awesome idea for a Patreon: & I’m contemplating changing my model to be more similar to hers.



I prefer to keep the patronage/reward monthly, rather than per-unit, in part ’cause my units are so darn small & constant & in part for more consistent income.

My current Patreon:

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October Theme Chosen: Impossible situations (motif)

After getting out of tie and then getting back INTO tie again, I used to chose between Stranded World and Impossible Situations, and the winner is…

Impossible Situations!

There will be a mini-Call on this later in the month (once I wrap up the current call). I expect this to be fun. 😉

As a note – November will not have a theme. November’s theme is “Oh, bog, nano.”

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Deep Deep Down in Kitty Town

The hood over Rrrina’s head smelled of menthol and nothing else, the world around her was muffled and her ears pinned against her head, and she was bound. Usually, when she ended up in this position, someone wanted to do something a bit naughty to her. This time… well, she wasn’t ruling it out, but she thought that “naughty” might be in a completely different context than she was used to.

And she was being carried again, carried by a skin-job, a leopard in a man’s body. This had to be the weirdest her life had been in – in – maybe in ever.

She was too turned around to have any sense of direction, the menthol in the hood made it impossible to navigate by scent, and her porter kept bouncing her, making it very hard to count steps. Had he stolen her? That’s what he’d said. But stealing slaves was – it was bad, very bad. And her head felt funny. Something in the menthol? Something… this was bad.

Rrrina came to on a cushion, in a warm place that felt like sunshine. Three sets of training came into play, and she opened her eyes only halfway while letting her other senses take inventory.

The cushion was comfortable, soft, and warm. The heat was too omnidirectional to be sunlight, but maybe a sun lamp? It was bright but not unbearably so, and the light seemed to be coming from above. Her nose was still clogged, but, even so, she could smell other cats.

She opened her eyes. The floor, the fixtures – all white. In front of her, a lab-coat person. Her eyes opened further. A lab-coat-wearing feline, jaguar spots, now that was new. Her captor was there, too, shedding out of his overalls. He met Rrrina’s gaze and smiled. It looked wrong, too feline in his human face

“Good, you’re awake. Welcome to the Feline Rebellion.”

After Down in Kitty Town, Entering Kitty Town, and Kit Town Maybe.

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Planet Rules, a ficlet for the Genderfunky prompt call (@anke)

Reyne tried to make a point of meeting all new visitors to the planet at the spaceport. For one, as cultural attache, it was part of the job. For another – Reyne liked the Mestaron, but they were extremely, extremely touchy about certain things – much as many humans were, come to think about it – and there had already been too many “incidents.” Humans might be touchy, but it didn’t mean they were cautious about others’ touchiness when visiting other planets.

(It was a bit surprising that Reyne had been allowed to keep the position of cultural attache, once that first report, the one with the bolding and the caps-lock, had gone through, but part of the bolding-caps-lock-side-bar had covered the unusual situation of Reyne and others of similar unusualities.)

This particular contingent, however, Reyne made a point of taking a shuttle up to their ship and meeting them before they even thought about touching down. Dressed carefully, in clothing that was sufficiently formal to impress, sufficiently Mestaron-like to discomfit, and specifically and entirely androgynous, Reyne greeted each of the VIPs first in the current style of the Federation and then in the human-equivalent of the Mestaron style.

“I hope you brought women with you.” It was rude to go about things quite that directly – either for the Mestaron or humans – but Reyne wanted them off-put and off-balance. They needed to shake expectations first.

“Here in the Federated Nations we don’t concern ourselves with the gender of-“

“The Mestaron will. The Mestaron will take it as a considerable insult if you don’t bring your ruling class with you. Also: did the Federated States outlaw sex drives while I was away?”

The definitely-male-bodied person – whose collar insignia said was probably in charge of the mission – sputtered and stammered for a moment. “The Federated States doesn’t speak about-“

“But they do, I’m sure, or you’d be having a population problem. Look. You know if you brought women. And if you didn’t, we’re not going any further in this briefing and I’m not letting you on-planet.”

There were some days Reyne really loved this job.

Reyne has also appeared Here and here.

This is written to [personal profile] anke‘s prompt to my genderfunky prompt call.

Want more? I’m sure I could have fun with this one. Commission more words via Paypal at the Giraffe Call rate of $1/100 words.

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

Wanted: Reviews for Jumping Rings and Edally Academy

Jumping Rings/Inner Circle
is on Web Fiction Guide here
and of course, its website is here

Edally Academy
is on Web Fiction Guide here
on Muse’s Success here
and its website is here.

And I need reviews! Reviews drive traffic, they get people interested in the story, and they help with the rankings on both sites (still working on getting Jumping Rings up on Muse’s).

What’s more, reviews count as $5 towards a second weekly chapter – three reviews for Edally, and I’ll post another chapter. Ditto for Jumping Rings. And, yes, I’ll count a review written for one site and copy-pasted into the other as two.


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Dungeon-and-Cave #Promptcall open for three more days!

Did you know I had a prompt call open? (Here:

The theme is “submissive men, chained men, captive men,” and funds earned will go towards making my writing cave a comfy place for writing this winter.

We got to the “take-out” level quickly this month, so last night, T. and I had Chinese take-out. (Sesame chicken, shrimp fried rice, fried dumplings, & crab Rangoon) (turns out the kitten approves of shrimp fried rice!)

We’ve also reached the $40 art-from-a-crowdfunded-artist level (And I’ve just commissioned Djinni to do a picture of the Samurai Catboy from the last giraffe call). I’ll have to see if the choice is as easy this time as it was last time; if there’s no clear favorite, I’ll put up a poll when the Call is closed.

And we’re $2 from everyone-gets-a-second-story!

So go prompt! Prompts don’t have to be kinky and fics won’t be sexually explicit unless you ask for it.

Then, if you like what you read, you can always tip for more story, at the discounted rate of $1/100 words.


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Putting Down the Burden, a story for the Dungeon-and-Cave #promptcall

“It’s the stereotype, right?” He shed his jacket and ran a hand through his hair, tousling it. The woman smiled encouragingly and let him talk. “Powerful guy, has it all.” His shirt joined his jacket; his fingers and his speech slowed. The woman didn’t mind – he was sculpted under the shirt, sleek, and clearly a bit nervous. “But he doesn’t have any place to put ‘it all’ down. He doesn’t have any place to not be in charge.” His fingers lingered on the button to his pants.

The woman counted silently to three, waiting for the moment when he looked at her, when he looked for an answer. One, two… there. She stepped forward, gently moving his hand away from his waistband so that she could take over. “Yeah, it’s the stereotype. And that’s for a reason.” She unbuttoned him, unzipped his fly, and with the same slender fingers pushed his pants down to his ankles. “But every theme has variations. Mmm, every song has a bridge.”

“Every rose has its thorn?” he teased.

“And every night has its dawn.” From her knees at her feet, she smiled up at him. “And sometimes, a powerful man needs to let go. Yes?”

He let out a noise that was somewhere between a groan and a plea. “Yeah. Yeah… yes.”

“Then… let go. I’ll be here to catch you, and I’ll be here to put you back on your feet.”

As the fireman sank slowly to his knees, the woman reached out, both hands, to hold his shoulders. Sometimes, they needed her to put out flames.

My Dungeon & Cave Call is open!

If you’d like to see more of this story, I’m sure I could come up with some;-) Just drop a tip in the the tip handcuffs:

Written to wispfox‘s prompt.

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