Archive | April 2017

Lady Taisiya’s 4th Husband, Chapter 22: What we Want – a fantasy/romance story

Find Chapter 1 here
Chapter 2 is here
Chapter 3 is here
Chapter 4 is here
Chapter 5 is here
Chapter 6 is here
Chapter 7 is here.
Chapter 8: here
Chapter 9: here

Chapter 10: here

Chapter 11 (R-Rated) here
Chapter 12: here
Chapter 13: here
Chapter 14: here
Chapter 15: here
Chapter 16: here
Chapter 17: here
Chapter 18: here
Chapter 19: here
Chapter 20: here
Chapter 21: here

You can skip Chapter 11 without losing the plot.

Sefton moved on to another part of the floor, and noticed as he did that there was blood spray on the walls.

“Clean water,” he grunted, and used the excuse to go clean out the bucket, wash his rag, and fill the bucket with fresh water before he started working on the clay-covered wall. “What did you mean?” he asked, when Jaco was several slates away and he was using a tiny brush to get blood from the texture in the clay.

“Which part? I mean, it’s obvious you’re the nurturing sort, you’re not gonna get mad about that, are you?”

“No, of course not. I like kids. I’d think it was a selling point except I’m pretty sure my selling point was ‘hey, I have a son the right age too.’” He tried not to be bitter about it. Lots of people were married off for worse reasons than that. “I mean – being, what, bred for it?”

“What did they teach you in school, kiddo?”

“History, math, science. Arts, lots of arts, and a lot of homemaking, of course. I don’t think you’re senior enough to call me kiddo until you get your chains off and I haven’t,” he added grumpily.

“Science and history, hunh? All right, I’ll admit, this is stuff I picked up from my sister’s books, and those were when she was preparing to do two years at the Academy. Not the sort of stuff they give to just anyone, I guess.”

“Your sister let you read her books?” Sefton didn’t even try to hide his jealousy.

“She brought me a couple, too. I’ll let you read them later, if you want. Might help with this discussion. So. We were brought here for a purpose, right?”

“Yeah, everyone knows that.”

“But the planet isn’t set up for the progenitors, the people that brought us here. So they made little changes.”

“Okay. Still not surprising me.”

“But all that tinkering didn’t just include the physical differences – we’re shorter than the progenitors but we can soak up energy from the sun differently than they do; we can breathe underwater, that sort of thing. They also wanted to make sure we did our job. So they built in behavior patterns, and then built in, ah, I think they’re called cultural conditions. The sort of thing that says that certain behaviors are encouraged or discouraged by the group as a whole.”

“How do you build in old granthers and prissy young wives glaring at you?” Sefton frowned at the stain on the floor. He didn’t think it was a new one. But he was going to get it out anyway.

“Well, I’m not sure, but I think they sent the first generation down with certain behaviors literally conditioned in. We don’t have the technology to do that, but some of the stuff I read says they did. So they built us to be good little – whatever we are.”

“‘Whatever we are?’” Sefton frowned at Jaco. “What, you don’t know?”

“Not really. I mean, I have guesses, so did my sister, but when you’re looking at it, so we’re built to survive here. We’re built to want to make communities and babies. But they didn’t build us to not want to fight, to not want to…” He trailed off, gesturing with both hands, making the chains rattle and jangle. “They just told us we can’t. So many things we’re told we can’t that we still want to do. So either the people who dropped us here weren’t as good as they thought they were, or there’s a reason for the want.”

Sefton thought about it. He felt like there was something he was just missing, something right at the corner of his mind that was what he needed to know, but he couldn’t quite reach it. He sighed. “I don’t know. It seems like it sucks.”

“Sometimes it does,” Jaco admitted. “You don’t feel that way?”

Sefton concentrated on a stain for a few minutes. “I… I want to be married and have kids. I want to be a good husband. I mean, some of that,” he lowered his voice and moved closer to Jaco. “I mean,” he repeated. “I don’t want to get in trouble. I don’t want to be a bad husband.”

“But sometimes you don’t like the things that doing those things mean?” Jaco’s voice was just as soft, and his forehead was furrowed. “I get that, ki- brother. I do. You want to know that the people that matter approve of you, and you don’t want all the shitty stuff that happens when you’re not doing things they approve of – I mean, even the guilt when you don’t get caught can be hard, right?”

Sefton nodded. Jaco was being far more understanding than he’d expected from someone who was still in chains years into his marriage. It made him a little suspicious and a little confused. “I-”

He couldn’t bring himself to say it. Even thinking it seemed disloyal.

“You’ve got a really bad case.” Jaco patted his shoulder sympathetically. “Can’t be easy. But if I were going to guess, you probably were angry that your lover was sold into marriage-”

“Special friend,” Sefton hissed. “You can’t call him… you can’t…”

“It’s the right term, isn’t it? Besides, nobody but you or I is listening. Angry your special friend was taken away, angry you had to marry his mother, angry you didn’t have any choice in the matter. I mean, anyone would be angry.”

Sefton stared at the floor and the cloth he was using to clean it. “A good husband wouldn’t be,” he tried quietly.

“That’s nonsense and whale turds. Anyone would be angry. You don’t have any choice in your life. You had choice, you had Isham, and then that was all taken away.”

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Collar Food

First: Slaves, School
Previous: Cataleb

“No, but really.” Talia followed Des into the lunchroom while Doria flanked him on the other side. “That’s a good question, Des. Where do the collars get their energy from? Is it from us? Oh…” Talia winced and her eyes went a little crossed for a moment. “My collar’s talking to me again…”

::We can take energy from the person who is wearing us, but it is considered a bit uncouth and, also, it causes problems for both us and the person in the long run,:: Desmond’s collar informed him. ::Talia’s collar may be going on about the uncouthness. Some care more about that than others. In the Old Times, when collars were only a punishment…:

“Oooh.” Des swallowed. “But – oh, there’s so many questions.”

::Save most of them for later, when the one who would abuse their collar isn’t around.::

“But where do you get food from?”

::You’ll see. I assure you, I will not let you starve me. Nor will that one’s collar let them do the same. We’re programmed with some control::

“That…. that’s a bit creepy.” Desmond put both his hands to his collar and gave it a little tug, feeling chilly.

::I know. And I apologize, but it is true. The collar is a collar – as I said, these things, the collars, were a punishment at one point.::

“Things?” he whispered, but Jefshan glanced at him anyway.

::Things. There is a collar, and there is me. I am not the collar, I am merely in the collar. Do you follow?::

“Not… really… like I am not my body but am in it, in Yetheran philosophy?”

::That is… close.::

“Are you talking philosophy with your collar?” Jefshan smirked down at Desmond.

“Yeah, a little. We were talking about it getting energy and stuff. And the end result is – I’ll see, I guess. Like everything else here.” He was a little short, he knew, but he was beginning to get frustrated with that attitude. “So I guess we’ll see. But let’s get food into us first, hunh? Like Talia said, they might have us running laps of insane stairways again.”

“What did your collar say, Talia?” Jefshan looked like there was some sort of fishing expedition going on mentally, but Des couldn’t quite see what it was supposed to be yet.

“Mine gave me a lecture on inappropriate things to say, and uncouth things to suggest, with a helping along the side of ‘be a good Collared Person, because you don’t want to be a Bad Collared Person.” Talia gave Cataleb a disgusted look.

“But what’s a Good Collared Person and what’s a Bad Collared Person?” wondered Doria. “I mean, what are the rules? Don’t eat with your elbows on the table, pick up after yourself…”

“Smile when smiled at but don’t smile too long at anyone who doesn’t seem to want to smile back,” offered Talia.

“Excuse yourself when your body makes noises you didn’t intend,” Jefshan puts in, “help those who need help and don’t ask for help you don’t need…”

“Do everything you can,” Desmond said slowly, thinking of his father, “and find yourself a way to be productive…”

“Oh, come on,” Cataleb scoffed, “they put collars on us. Do you really think we’re going to have trouble finding ways to be productive? You know what they do with collared people. They put them to work. Labor sort of work, not counting coins. And that magic in us? They use that, too, as hard and as long as they can. There’s nothing about being productive in being good, because that’s all just letting yourself be a harnessed horse.”

“Oh, be real.” Talia sent a pointed eye-roll at Cataleb. “Do you really, honestly think that they’re going to educate us for years just to work us to death?”

“What do you think the collars are for then? Decoration?”

Meshron and Helinna reached their group about that time. Meshron grabbed Cataleb’s arm and Helinna grabbed Talia’s. “No more of this,” Meshron hissed. “You’re making a scene, and we might be impulsive but we’re not stupid, do you hear me?”

Everyone in their little group of new students stared at the two older students.

“We’re serious.” Helinna’s voice was just as much of a quiet hiss as Meshron’s. “No scenes. Not on your first day of classes. No talking about being put in labor camps, or any of that sort of nonsense. If you get the Brutes worked up, it’s going to be a mess, do you understand?”

“I… understand,” Talia answered slowly.

“It’s all nonsense anyway,” Cataleb muttered. “I can shut up about it being nonsense for a while, fine.”

“Good. Now.” Meshron’s arm moved to an affectionate position around Cataleb’s shoulders. “Let’s go get breakfast, all of us, like a good Impulsive House, why don’t we?”

“As you say,” Talia muttered. It was a bit awkward, heading off to the lunch line, all of them sharing glances.

Des hadn’t thought they were making that much of a scene – if he were being honest, he thought Meshron and Helinna had made more of a scene than Cataleb and Talia – but for some reason, they’d crossed into don’t-ask territory again.

He wondered what would happen when they crossed into don’t-ask territory around an adult, a teacher or one of the testers, instead of around one of the older students. He had a feeling, with the group they had, he would find out soon. Kayey or Wesley or Talia – or Cataleb – would probably find that limit before the day was over.


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Beauty-Beast 13: Take it Off

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Ctirad cleared his throat. “Sir.” he dropped to his knees on the soft, plush carpet.

“Ctirad.” There was the gentlest of chiding tones in Timaios’ voice. Ctirad fought the urge to duck his head and apologize. “When we are alone in my bedroom, at the very least, I expect you to call me by my name.”

“S- Timaios?”

It sounded strange in his voice. He could not remember the last time he’d been allowed that privilege. He didn’t know what to think about it. He looked up at Timaios and found his master wearing a crooked and strange smile.

“I do believe I like that far too much. Would you indulge me in repeating it?”

Ctirad cleared his throat. “Timaios?”

“Lovely. Now. I am torn between any number of options, very few of which will lead to that dinner I told you that you were getting. Ah, well, we can’t always get what we want.” He took a step backwards. “Will you drop your Mask willingly?”

“No, sir, no, Timaios.” He braced himself for the anger, for the order.

“Tch. Ah, well. Another time, perhaps. How about your shirt? Will you take that off willingly?”

“Yes, sir.” He pulled his shirt off and rolled his shoulders, fighting the urge to pose.

“We’ll have to do something about that collar. It’s awful, but I’m beginning to realize I can’t expect anything different from Ermenrich. Does it hurt you?”

Ctirad’s hand went half to his collar, fell. “Not anymore.” It was heavy, but it had stopped being unbearable a long time ago.

“Then I can wait until tomorrow and decide what I want to put on you properly. Will you take your pants off willingly?”

“Yes, sir.” He hesitated. “May I stand?”

“Yes.” Timaios paused, and then added in a gentle voice, “unless I order you to your knees, which will not be often, you may stand when you need or want to. Unless I have ordered you to stay in one place, you may leave the room for such things as bodily functions or just to get a breath of air – although if we’re in the middle of something, I’d appreciate it if you’d tell me where you’re going first.”

Ctirad processed this slowly. He could remember, vaguely and as if from a very long distance, when those things would have seemed more like duh and less like huge allowances. “Thank you.” He cut off the sir before it got out of his mouth, but could not quite bring himself to say Timaios. He hesitated, feeling like that was too informal. “I appreciate it.”

“I’m glad,” Timaios answered softly. He sounded for the first time like a dangerous man. Ctirad hesitated again before standing and looked up at his master’s face.

The expression was – was almost not, as if he had learned how to Mask what he was feeling. Ctirad decided to settle on doing what he had been told – no, asked – and stood, peeling off his jeans. Belatedly, he remembered that he had to take off his boots, and left those carefully by the side of the wall.

He waited, hands behind his back, feet a shoulder-width apart, his eyes on the wall behind his master’s back. This was tricky, as his new owner was considerably taller than he was.

“So,” Timaios murmured, in the same soft, dangerous voice, “how do you look, really?”

Ctirad considered that. ”I…” He focused for a moment and then managed to shift his Mask. He had learned over the years to Mask not just his Change but to put forth an appearance of health and hale-ness. He let that drop now, keeping his Change hidden.

Timaios hissed. His hand ran over Ctirad’s chest gently, and then over his arms. “It must have been hard, keeping muscle tone when he was clearly not giving you enough food,” he murmured. “And it must be painful, these bruises.”

“I heal pretty quickly.” Ctirad answered, or, rather, didn’t answer. “Can I Mask again, sir?”

“You don’t like being seen like this?”

He considered his answer for a minute, then decided that Timaios had earned a bit of honesty. “I don’t like people knowing someone could do this to me.”

He raised his eyebrows in reply. “Considering…?”

“Even considering, yes.” He Masked again, because he hadn’t been told not to, and he was starting to wonder if there was a limit to Timaios’ generosity.

He hadn’t found it yet, at least. “Let me get you some pajama pants. We’ll worry about clothing later. Except – do you have a preference for that?”

“Things I can move in, sir. Things that don’t chafe too much.”

“You’re rather easy to please, aren’t you?”

“I-I don’t know if I’m easy to please, but I’m easy to make comfortable. I-” There was a knock on the bedroom door, and he fell silent.

“Will you be comfortable having Danny bring the food in while you’re nude?” There was a gentle teasing to Timaios’ voice. Ctirad found he liked it.

“I won’t, ah, won’t be uncomfortable, sir.”

“Very good. Come in, Danny.”

As the door opened, Ctirad realized he’d forgotten all about the food.


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Crazy like a fox – more Mélanie/Mdom not asshole

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“Mélanie! Stop, please. Stop!”

Mélanie stopped. She didn’t have a lot of choice in the matter. “I’m not going in there.”

“Come back, please.”

Even with the please, it was an order. Even the way he sounded like he was pleading with her, abashed and embarrassed, it was an order. She turned around and walked as slowly as she could back towards him.

“I have too much of a flair for the dramatic, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were from around here. I didn’t know you’d have heard the rumors.”

She put one foot deliberately directly in front of the the other foot and didn’t look up at him. “Rumors? I’ve seen what happens to people.”

“Oh, so you really are from nearby. There were a couple, yeah. They weren’t scared enough, and they were quite irritated at me. I’d done this and that, you know, and so I, uh, I put a little mojo on them. It should wear off. It should have worn off by now – that was a while ago.”

“I haven’t seen then in a while,” she admitted slowly. “I got – well, I got sold.”

“Oh.” He sounded relieved. “Oh, well, I may have to check. Anyway, this place is, well, it already had a reputation. And there are a couple – they might be ghosts; I didn’t think those actually existed, though – but I came to an arrangement with them a long time ago.”

She was still walking towards him as slowly as she could. “Wait.” She looked up at him. “This place is a hellhole, a real demon-infested place. I know people…”

“Like I said, when people get very close, I have to discourage them, but most of the time, the rumors and some Workings on the gates and the fence keep people away. Nothing in here is going to eat you. Nothing in here is going to make you empty. Okay? It’s all smoke and mirrors and some Workings that I guess were me outsmarting myself.”

“And a couple ghosts,” she pointed out. She let her feet carry her at a slightly more normal walking pace.

“And a couple ghosts,” he allowed. “Or things that may or may not be ghosts. Please?” He held out his hands to her. “We’re safer once we’re inside all those Workings.”

“Safer in the haunted house.” She let herself speed up a bit more. The pressure of the orders was starting to give her a headache. “You know how ridiculous that sounds, right?”

“It might sound ridiculous, but I assure you it’s true. Now, I am sorry. I honestly didn’t expect you to have heard of my little charade. But I assure you, once we get past the facade, it’s lovely inside, there’s food, there’s running water, or at least water that runs, and I can provide you with some better clothing. Please?”

She let herself close the last few feet to her new owner at a much faster pace.

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Beauty-Beast 12: Tim Kaprinsky’s House, Timaios’ Bedroom

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Timaios’ house was everything Ctirad might have expected from someone as rich as Tim Kaprinsky, and yet nothing at all he expected. It was a big house on a big lot in the middle of the city, an easy four acres of property with such good landscaping that you hardly noticed you could almost never see more than three feet in any direction, and the house itself was almost completely obscured from the road and all three of its neighbors.

The inside, though – or, at least, from the garage to the stairs upward – looked comfortable. It was more spartan than opulent, as long as you didn’t think too much about what some of the materials cost, and the sitting room he got a glimpse of was done in overstuffed upholstery that actually looked designed to sit in.

“Sal,” Timaios asked of his driver, “can you tell Danny to send up food for two? A real meal, but keep it relatively bland. I’m not sure how much good food our Ctirad here has had in the recent past.”

None was a safe bet, but he hadn’t been asked, so he didn’t answer. Timaios’ hand was on the small of his back, steering him as effectively as if he’d had him on a leash.

“Yes, sir.”

“Thank you, Sal. This way, Ctirad.” The back stairs – they had to be back stairs, any place this big had to have a grand staircase somewhere – were carpeted in something soft under Ctirad’s boots, and he stumbled for a minute, thinking he ought to have taken his shoes off.

“Easy,” Timaios murmured. On the stairway, he was practically pressed against Ctirad’s side. It was a warm feeling, pleasant, and yet distracting as well. “You’re fine. Just up these stairs and, here, to the left.”

To the left took Ctirad to a smallish door, just barely big enough to allow for the horns he couldn’t currently see on Timaios. He made a questioning noise in his throat, not quite trusting him with words.

“There, yes. It’s okay.”

He hadn’t been this skittish in a long time. Then again, it had been a long time since he’d had a new Owner. He opened the door.

The room inside was – well, it looked lived-in. Someone had tidied, he thought, and made the bed, but there was a stack of books on one nightstand, a tablet and a laptop on the other, and three pairs of shoes under the bed.

Timaios’ bedroom had no mirrors, and the wide wall of windows was covered with blinds and curtains. The decor was expensive understated wood and neutrals in light colors, except something in purple silk thrown across the desk chair.

“Steady, steady. All right, my lovely man, I’ve got you in my bedroom.”

All thoughts of dinner fled at the rumble in Timaios’ voice.


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Flostam – A continuation of Genique for Finish It Bingo

After Taking Chances, Betting on it, Betting Time, Bunking Arrangements, and Accidental, for my Third Finish It Bingo Card. And this means I’ve finished another card!!.

“One year.” Marsey Wilswoodronny sat down on Genique’s bunk and looked up at her. “How did you win that hand? That was an impossible hand! I knew Darretchon had the Captain, and I knew I had the Red Spear, and you – and you -”

“Declined to be cheated out of a year?” Genique’s cabin had very few amenities; she sat down backwards on the sole chair, leaned on the back of it, and looked at him. “I knew you were cheating with Darretchon. You two both have very good poker faces, but your fingers twitch and his earlobes wiggle. And your signals were very nice, but they weren’t quite as subtle as you thought they were. I find patterns,” she added, to soothe his chagrined look a little. “I’m an accountant. That’s what they have me doing, digging out patterns, putting them back together.”

His look got speculative. “That’s going to ruffle some feathers and make some people worried.”

“I think that’s the idea. First Mate Clyd has been pleased with me so far.”

“And the Captain?” Now he looked worried.

“I don’t think he knows what to do with me quite yet,” she admitted. “Which is more than a little concerning, but it works out well enough. What about you?”

“I’ve been here for years. Volunteered, actually, not conscripted. I do good with this sort of work. But now – now you’ve got a year.”

“POor baby.” She patted his back companionably. “I’ll have to fill out a form, won’t I? This is the most beuracratic pirate ship I’ve ever been on.”

“How many pirate ships have you been on?” He eyed her sidelong.”

“…this one,” she admitted. “So. You were trying to cheat me, and-”

“-it backfired. So now you get a year of me. What are you going to do with me?”

“If we were home, I’d have you cleaning my house and cooking my food and, hrrm, doing my laundry, but-”

“BUt we’re on a pirate ship, and those things, someone already takes care of.” He looked more concerned. She couldn’t say she really blamed him for that.

“What were you going to do with me?”

“Well,” he blushed and looked away.

“Mm. That’s what I thought. So?”

“So?” He shifted backwards. “So, what?”

“So what exactly. What are you still wearing clothes?”

“Oh, no, nooo, that’s not fair.”

“Who said anything about fair, handsome boy? Come on, you agreed to a year. Clothes off.”

“but-” He sulked at her.

She reached over and tapped his forehead. For a Trenciscot boy, that was the equivalent of – he flinched and leaned backwards – slapping him on the face. “Clothes. Off. Come on, now, just think about what you were going to do to me.”

“You can’t…”

“Nope. But I could go out there and tell your friend you backed out of our deal.”

He held up both hands. “All right. You win. I agreed, yeah. Anything, for a year. Is this going to be like the Pit?”

“Oh, I hope not.” She let a small smile cross her lips. “No. Nothing like that. As a matter of fact, I think we’re going to enjoy it. But I’m going to see if I can get a bigger bed, first.”


She looked at Marsey. He looked at her.

“You signed the form,” he shrugged uncomfortably.

“You did, too,” she pointed out.

“You told me to! Remember that part where I agreed to do whatever you said for a year?”

“… Right. So. New clause. If I am doing something you think I’m going to regret, tell me, immediately if possible, soon afterwards otherwise. Can you do that?”

“I can. but.” He looked at the wedding banns, frowned, looked at their new room – bigger bed, at least, and a nicer cabin in a nicer location – and looked back at her. “Do you regret it?”

“Regret what? Not getting caught in the trap you were setting? No. The rest…. well. Look. It appears we can’t have private finances when we’re married, so let me say very clearly – the money you bring in is yours to spend, the money I bring in is mine to spend, and never the twain shall meet. All right?”

“You’re…” He took a moment, staring at her. “You’re bringing money in? In your first year here? What did you do, have blackmail material on the First Mate?”

“No.” She couldn’t help the grim smile that crossed her lips. “I’m an accountant.”

All of that, however, wasn’t answering the actual question. She flopped down on the nicely bigger bed and looked up at the ceiling. Ceilings shipboard were so low. Marsey was not a short man, and his head nearly brushed the ceiling in many places. “No. You’re right. This is a new experience, and as long as it doesn’t delay the amount of time it takes me to get back home, to buy off my contract, no, I don’t really regret it.” She glanced over at him. “You’re a sweet boy… no. I’m sorry, Marsey, that wasn’t fair. You’re a nice person, so far, kind, sweet, and even if you were going to cheat me, you’ve been sticking to your word once it turned out you’d be, well, stuck with it. And you’re gorgeous, that helps.”

He stared at her. SHe wondered if nobody had told him he was gorgeous before.

Not, it seemed he’d gotten stuck before that. “You’re really planning on heading home?”

“I am. I was a kidnapee, you know.”

“Yeah, Basi brought you in. Felt horrible about it for weeks when nobody ransomed you.” He looked around at the things she’d brought over. “You’ve got stuff.”

“Not from spending my salary, though. The silk was from Basi. Some of the other things came from here and there. I’m a really good accountant,” she added, a little proudly. “

“And you’re really good at Flotsam. If we got you playing Flounder, too, you could probably decorate this place nicely.”

She looked at the four crates he’d brought over. “What about you?”

“Mostly stuff I’ve stolen, you know, pirate. Some of it I won in Flotsam and Flounder games.”


“Only sometimes, only when the stakes were high. Come _on_, I wasn’t going to…”

“Oh, you might as well not bother lying. It’s going to be a long year if you do.”

He slipped off the bed, and for a moment, she thought she’d offended him. But he was going through the smallest of his crates, the one with a lock on it. “So. We agreed. My things are mine and your things are yours, right?”

“Right. Separate finances.” it was the only way she was ever going to get out of here, especially if he liked to gamble.

“And one year, right? I’m yours – your bound husband – for a year, no matter what?”

“That’s what we agreed to.”

“Then here’s this, for your home fund.” He handed her a gaudy but clearly expensive necklace, the sort often worn by heiresses. “That ought to get you closer. And um. This is because you beat me at cheating at Floatsam.”

The second piece was much less gaudy – it was actually lovely, understated, and matched the red silk of her favorite camisole perfectly. “Marsey…”

“It’s still mine. Both of them. So they’re mine to give.” He smiled up at her. “You’re my first wife. It seems appropriate.”

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Finish It! ~Third~ Bingo Card

I’ll fill this in as time allows from the below list, but this is my [community profile] allbingo card for the “Finish It” challenge… number THREE (ah-ha-ha-ha)

Clarisse (II) B is for Beryl and her Boys (V) Floatsam (V) How The Family Does things (V) Over the Wall (V) Heroes (III)
Where Do Unicorns Come From? (V) Duty (VI) Rumors about the Family (IV) Bianna (I) The Enemy’s City (III) Take Me (II)
Exhaustion (IV) Carrying the Spirit (V) Road Map To…. (I) Bless the Cat (IV) In the Attic(IV) An Argument of Magic (II)
Cumhai & Begley (III) Change (I) Abrelle:
Linguistic Tricks (IV) Far Weston (III) You’d Better Watch Out (VI)
Packing (II) 9 (III) Charming (VI) Boy troubles (IV) 24 (VI) 19 (I)
30 (VI) 12 (VI) 2 (II) 1 (I) 25 (I) 20 (II)

working on completed next Partial Finish

At any point, I may sub out one of these for another suggested one or something else I need to finish.

The numbers (those that remain) correspond to the list below. This was arranged from the [community profile] allbingo public card, your suggestions, and’s list randomizer.

The Roman numerals are another way of getting a bingo – do, say, all of the (I) instead of a line or a square or such.

see links here –

The List
1 Mikary:

2 Aetheric Cleansing.
3 Abrelle:
4 Rumors about the Family.

5 Where Do Unicorns Come From?.
6 Duty.

7 Road Map To….
8 Clarisse

9 The Cat’s Paw.

10 Linguistic Tricks.
11 B is for Beryl and her Boys.
12 Willard:
13 We met Bianna, since Jin talked to his friends about bringing her up with Jimmy.
14 An Argument of Magic.
15 The Enemy’s City.
16 Boy Trouble, which is rather skew from the previous.
17 Carrying the Spirit.

18 Charming.
19 Rin’s parents, and Rin’s father, and …

20 Shahin and Emrys
21 Heroes
22 In the Attic.
23 How The Family Does things.
24 Fifty Years.
25 Space Accountant: A Reason – and Accidental, and bunking arrangements, etc (Genique got Married?)
26 Take Me (which I realize was thwarting then, and I don’t know if it’d be less so now).
27 Cumhai & Begley

28 Bless the Cat.
29 Over the Wall
30 Trash and Treasures.
31 Change.
32 Packing:
33 Far Weston.
34 Exhaustion.
35 Shenanigans. (There are multiple snippets without immediate followups, but it’s mostly all one thread.)
36 You’d Better Watch Out.

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Inconvenient Magic – a story for Patreon

I have discovered that Asta might be my favorite Aunt. The more I write about her and her “placeholder” status, the more I like her. 

This takes place maybe 5 years before Evangaline becomes Aunt, so in the 2000’s.   We have not met Will before. 

“Oh, dear.”  Asta patted her nephew’s shoulder gingerly.  “Not again?”

Will sighed and looked out the window. “Again.  I managed to cover it up, the way you showed me…”

“But if this keeps happening, eventually the grandmothers and the mothers and the fussbudgets down at church are going to figure it out, no matter how small-minded they are,” Asta finished with a sigh.  “And then they’re going to give you Willard’s choice.” Continue reading

Kitty Kitty Neko?

A sequel to a feral cat-girl and Here, Kitty, Kitty

“Easy, easy, shit, easy.” Luke almost lost his hold on the girl as she did her best to scramble out of his hands, over him, and onto the dog-boy. Or, at least, he was pretty sure that’s where she was going. Mike, on the other hand, shouted a Working so fast that his words blurred together and so loudly they might have heard it back at Addergoole, and the dog-boy fell asleep.

Almost abashed, Luke remembered he could do Workings, and, in a much quieter, much more soothing tone, did a Calm Down working on the cat-girl. “Easy, easy. Okay. There.” She was looking at him, sleepy now but definitely calm. “Okay. So, do you understand me?”

She shook her head no. Luke managed not to laugh in her face.

“Do you have a name?”

She had to think about that. After a moment, she offered “Cat.”

“Well, that’s a label, at least. Hello, Cat. I’m Luke.”

“Loooo-kuh,” she tried, and nodded. “Luke.” The second time, it sounded almost an echo of how he’d said it.

“This place, it’s not safe. There’s-”

“Bad things,” she agreed, and then a string of something that Luke only belatedly recognized as Japanese.

He peered at her. Blondish, maybe, under all the dirt. Had Leo passed through here recently? Would have to ask.

“Easy, easy. My Japanese is pretty rusty. If you come with us, we can find you a safe place to stay.”


“He’s going to have to come too. Sorry.”

“Dog good,” she nodded. “Better than -” she hesitated, and then offered uncertainly, “-the bad things.”

“Well, that’s an endorsement all right. Come with me, then, Cat?”

She nodded. Hesitantly, Luke released one of her wrists.

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Dream, attempted to storify

Some of my dreams stick with me. Sometimes they’re my weirdest ones. not sure about this one.

Here it is, though, a dream, attempted to make into fiction. I don’t know it if helps or hinders to imagine the first half of the story the way I dreamed it – as sentient Fisher-Price figures.

If she hadn’t known her three brothers the princes were pretty much useless, coming to the trading town really sent the message home.

At home, when the bandits attacked, her brothers could barely hold them off with their own magic, weak stuff. Here, the oldest of her brothers stepped onto the dock the way he always did – and the bandit ship fled immediately. Looking up, she understood why.

Here, the piggies and the sheepies helped. Here, the whole town worked to send off the raiders. There they were, the rotund row of townspeople standing on the balcony, on all the balconies, glaring their magic at the bandit ship.

She was talking with a rogue with a grubby demeanor and a sweet attitude, trying not to talk about how much of failures her little princedom must be, when the raiders came back in force. Not just one ship, but ship after ship after ship.

The rogue gave her a not-ungentle shove. “Go, try to get on that boat. Just get out of here.” He was pointing toward the river, towards a small craft holding a man and a woman. “Go!”

The raiders were almost there. She didn’t know why she listened, but she dove off the river-dock and swam for the boat.

The trip upriver was hard, and she worked every boat-length of it, as much as the people – Prince’s people, it turned out – who had taken her in. They spoke about the raiders, about her home. About the Prince. About the rogue who’d shoved her towards their boat.

It was only as they were pulling up on another dock that the woman said, in a tone the princess hadn’t heard before, “Haven’t you figured it out by now?”

The rogue was waiting for her, a bit the worse for wear, but still standing, still alive. He pulled off his cloak, shaking his hair, and revealed the Prince below. “I had to know,” he apologized. “It makes sense, right? I mean, if we’re to be wed-”

She was furious.

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