Archive | April 2020

The Bellamy, Chapter 13

Content warning for the below chapter: mention of human remains.


“It’s you, shit.”  Hands landed on both of Veronika’s shoulders and pulled her backwards.  She let herself be pulled backwards, until even her toes were out of the sunlight.  “Do – do many people scream up here?”

“No.”  She thought it was Two behind her, but that voice was coming to the side of her.  She glanced over – Two was frowning at her.  “No.  Usually, they don’t scream at all if they make it that far.  You managed to pull yourself out and to scream.”  She shook her head.  “I figured it was Four, maybe, or maybe uh, one of the older ones who sometimes forget.  I didn’t think you’d come way over here,” she added, accusation thick in her voice.  “This isn’t the way to Supernatural and Occult.”

“It is if you’re trying to see as much of the Bellamy as you can without taking too much time,” the voice behind her commented.  So similar, just a little smoother.  One moved over to Veronika’s left, flanking her.  “But you might have noticed that can be dangerous here.” Continue reading

Purchase Negotiation 38 – Hospital

First: Purchased: Negotiation

Leander woke to Sylviane crying as someone did something awful to him, pressing on him, strapping him-

“And then – then they were going to kill him if I didn’t go with them,” she sobbed.  “Oh, shit, no. No, no straps, please, you’ll freak him out.  He’s got, he’s got PTSD, you can’t -“

“Miss, we have to get him into the ambulance.”

“Just the belt and, and the feet then?  I’ll help, I’ve done all the first aid classes, I’m certified.”

She was topless, smeared in his blood, wearing a little lace bra.  At least Mr. MacDiarmad hadn’t told him to keep her safe from the press. 

“Jacket,” he snarled weakly at the police officer.  It took the man a moment, but before Leander’s vision went blurry again, someone had put something over Sylviane’s shoulders. 

He forced himself awake until Sylviane took his hand again. “It’s okay, Leander. It’s okay.  I’m here. Dad’ll meet us at the hospital. I’m here, and they’re only doing a couple straps and I’ll make them undo them as soon as possible, okay? I’m here.”

“I’m fine,” he managed, and then he lost consciousness. 

He woke to a man staring at his face, shining a light in his eyes.  “He’s going to be fine, he’s just lost a bunch of blood. You’re a hero, did you know that?” he told the man.

“Kidnappers,” he tried, but he was slurring his words something horrible. 

Sylviane squeezed his hand.  “I promised him I wouldn’t leave his side,” she told the man.  

“I’m afraid you can’t be in the room while we operate.”

He couldn’t see her, but he could tell from her voice that she must have lifted her chin.  “Is there a regulation to that effect and how much of the hospital do I have to buy to get it overturned?”

“Miss, it’s going to be bloody and gory, and he’ll be unconscious anyway.”

“Let me gown up and scrub in and I’ll stay out of everyone’s way and-”  She dropped her voice into something that sounded like praying, unless you knew what she was doing.

The man slapped her. “None of that.  You didn’t say it was a promise.  Come on then, gown up.”

Leander snarled.  “Slap her again and I’ll eat your hand.”

“Tell her not to use any of that shit on me and I won’t have to,” the man retorted.  “Come on, time to prep you for surgery, Mister hero.”

He hated, hated, hated going under, the feeling he couldn’t control anything.  He felt his heart rate rising; he struggled to sit up, to get out, to go anywhere else. 

Sylviane squeezed his hand. “I told you,” she murmured. “I’ve got you.  I’m here. I’ve got you. I’m here. I’ve-“

He let go of consciousness more easily than he’d thought possible.


“-the sort of threat I thought of, no. But it’s an equally good threat to keep in mind.”  Mr. MacDiarmad had been talking for a while, Leander thought. He sounded tired, strained. 

Shit.  He pulled himself upwards, only to be pushed downwards by a firm hand. 

“Easy,”  Mr. MacDiarmad soothed.  “It’s fine. Sylviane’s fine, she’s right here.  And you’re fine, other than the new hole in you.”

Leander managed to open his eyes.  There was Sylviane, there was Mr. MacDiarmad .  “A trap,” he croaked. “I didn’t noticed it was a trap.”  He braced himself for the punishment. 

“You’re not paid to notice traps, you’re paid to get her out of them safely.  And you did. You did, from what I’ve seen and been told, you did an amazing job of that.”  Mr. MacDiarmad patted Leander’s head. “And in a little while, we’re all going to go home. You did good, Leander.”

He closed his eyes as the warmth went through him.  “I nearly got her shot,” he muttered. 

“No, I nearly got me shot, and I did get you shot.  Leander, stop beating yourself up,” Sylviane complained.   “You did exactly what you were supposed to do.”

“Doesn’t feel like it.”  He closed his eyes. “Feels like I fucked up.”


He opened his eyes.  Sylviane was leaning over him, looking him straight in the face.  “Okay?” he croaked. 

“So that’s how you feel.  After-action report, soldier.  Why does it feel that way?”

He made a noise that was half grunt and half whine.  “What?” Report, he could handle that. But she remembered the soldier thing was a story, right?  “Report? Okay. We were approached by a teenage girl in bad clothes who wanted to find, uh, Harriman.  Harriman Hall. We – you led her towards the hall, into a narrow alley between two of the classroom buildings.  Four of her companions boxed us in. They pulled guns and offered me money to leave. Obviously I didn’t take the offer, but I stalled them so that you could do a protection Working.  The stalling failed and I stopped them from attacking you.”

He watched her face. 

“You kicked their asses, you mean.”

“I should’ve noticed they were following us.  I’ve gotten soft.”

She pinged his shoulder lightly with her fingers.  “Stop that. You got soft in a slave camp?” she hissed.  “You’ve totally had plenty of time to train, I’m sure,” she added in a dry drawl.  “They were stopped, I’m fine, you’re going to be fine. You not only succeed, you rocked.”

He relaxed slowly.  “I’m supposed to keep you safe,” he protested again, anyway, because it was still biting at him.

“And you kept her very safe.”  Mr. MacDiarmed patted his arm gently.  “You kept her safe. And I’m -” He cleared his throat.  “I’m very pleased with you, Leander. You did exactly what I hoped you would.”

Leander struggled against the feelings, the warmth, the pleasure.  He found his face was flushing. Damnit. He didn’t want, he didn’t-

His Master was pleased with him.  He let himself relax. The complaint would come next, the things he should have known, and he’d have his feet under him again.

“Keep up the good work.”  Mr. MacDiarmed patted him on the arm again.  “Now. They said that you could come home with us once you woke up.  It was a pretty clean wound.”

“The doctor,” he remembered.  “The one who – who slapped-“

“Not fae,” Sylviane murmured softly, “but Faded, family.  He’s good people, and he apologized for slapping me. Twice.  And once to Dad. It’s okay, Leander. We can go home. We can – we can go home.”

He huffed softly and sat up.  “Head’s – head’s funny,” he muttered.  “Can’t-“

“I’ve got the protection detail for now, Leander.  Your only responsibility for now is to take care of yourself.  Understood?”

Leander blinked blearily.  “You’re… not real,” he murmured. 

“Afraid I am.  Come on, we’re going to put you in the wheelchair.  Sylviane, you’ll push him?”

“Oh, I love pushing him,” she teased, making Leander flush.  “Come on, then, right here in the chair.”

He let them coax him into the chair.  He let himself be pushed, feeling helpless, feeling useless, feeling…

Sylviane patted his shoulder.  “My hero,” she murmured, and she sounded affectionate

Feeling cared for.  He blinked a couple times and let the fog of the drugs hold him until they got to the car.


Want more?

Hey, it’s a chapter of this!  As I’ve mentioned, I have had some issues writing in the last couple months (note to self reading this in the future: The Coronavirus Crisis, Lyn.  And you were sick for all of February, too, remember?) and I’ve gone through almost all my buffer. 

But one day late to post it for this week (I’m scheduling this on the 19th, Sunday), I finally finished a chapter!

Catch the Train, Chapter 1 (A Teaser)

Another story I’ve been playing with that definitely isn’t to the 10,000-word buffer, but since everything’s been a little weird with writing lately (I’m writing this on 4/20), I figure it’s something I know I have written and it’s, well – um. Here.  Have a chapter, let me know what you think.





Tumbling, the wind whipping in her ears, nothing around her but air, nothing below her, nothing anywhere. Continue reading

Malina and the Border Banners, Chapter 10 (A Story for B)

Began here.
Chapter 2 here
Chapter 3 here.
Chapter 4 here.
Chapter 5 here.
Chapter 6 here.
Chapter 7 here.
Chapter 8 here.
Chapter 9 here.


There was a sand-cat in Malina’s lap, and he was purring. 

Weirder things had happened by far; if anything, the fact that there was a purring cat in her lap was made even stranger by how normal it was, compared to everything else that had happened to Malina in the last few hours. 

The fact that he was sitting there, purring, while she sat in the Queen’s chambers of an abandoned castle in the middle of the desert, just after telling her that she would learn to do magic, that made it even odder. Continue reading

Upstairs/Downstairs, Chapter 1 (a teaser?): Andal

I just have not been writing much since this whole thing blew up, like… maybe 1/4, 1/8 of what I was writing before.  And that was like 2/3 at the most of what I was writing before hand, thanks to an unhealthy February.

All that to say, well, I am running out of buffer on everything, as you may have noticed from the lack of Purchase Negotiation since 3/14.  That’s just all I have written on the poor guy. 

So in the meantime, here’s a bit of something I’ve been working on that hasn’t quite made the 10,000-word buffer to start posting. 

It’s set in Tír na Cali, so the setting warnings for that setting apply: Slavery, institutionalized and accepted. Kidnapping, Stockholm.  In addition, suggestions of abuse. 

Cheers?  Cheers. 

(I don’t remember when I scheduled this but Somehow I put it for 5/2 instead of whatever I meant to put it at – probably 4/2, looking at things.)


Continue reading

Work From Home Blog: Day 25

(i’m the sort of person that uses all my sick days, most of them for actual sickness…)

So the problem with getting sick currently is that everyone, including yourself, goes “ack is this The Sick?”

I don’t think this is The Sick.

But I definitely came down with something somewhere between Tuesday and Thursday, and by Thursday I felt shitty enough to email in sick and crawl back into bed.

And then get up for a couple hours and go back to bed.

And again.

and again. Continue reading

Saving the Cult (if not the World), Chapter Sixteen

Saving the Cult (If not the World) "It's time." Manfield Lee knew he was good at sounding authoritative even when he didn't know what he was talking about - he'd turned a fortune into a megafortune doing just that, after all, not to mention running the Organization - but right now, he DID know what he was talking about. After all, it was just a date, wasn't it? And if the date turned out to be wrong, well, then he knew exactly what to blame it on, and that blame would fall on the scholars and the psychics, not on him. The other thing Manfield Lee knew how to do was to place the blame in very specific ways that were not him.

“There’s no way.”  All of Ethan’s stings seemed to have been cut.  “We can’t make it, we won’t.”

“We’re not.” Jackson looked at Lina, jaw set, expression serious.. “Okay, you’ve gotten some food in you, that’s a good start. Dylan, you gotta go way over to that side of the parking lot. Ethan, over there. And we need someone else, we’re gonna need more power. Are you ready?”

Lina blinked.  She blinked again.  “Ready?” She swallowed hard.  The power plant… “Ready to stop – what a nuclear explosion?”

“The power plant’s not nuclear. It’s – ah, I promise I’ll explain later. But here. Get the forcefield started with those two, and once it’s visible, I’ll see if I can get some more people in. If I can’t, I’ll be right back here. I promise.” Continue reading

They Had A Plan

Content warning: this is set in my Planners setting (a very large organized family of preppers) and involves the current pandemic situation


The Family had a plan for nearly everything, and they created at least two new plans every year. 

 They had a plan for this.

Small catastrophes – something that was small by the Family’s gauge at least – they were more than set to deal with without barely blinking.  They did their normal grocery shopping, did their normal gardening, and when the orders came to minimize social contact, those few family members who weren’t comfortably set up to work-from-home were quickly set up to do so.  Cases were Family were furloughed – some jobs you just can’t do home – there was a Family emergency fund to support them, or, in many cases, there was something for them to do. 

An organization like the Family always had work that needed to be done.  Considering the bad experiences they’d had a time or two with outsiders who came to work for them and then wrote or recorded a tell-all- some lies, some truth, and some truth as badly skewed as possible – the family preferred to keep those jobs close, preferring Family and Friends-of-Family for everything possible.  

So they, as a family, and as individuals, were set. Continue reading

Malina and the Border Banners, Chapter 9 (A Story for B)

Began here.
Chapter 2 here
Chapter 3 here.
Chapter 4 here.
Chapter 5 here.

The Princess of the very long name and her adviser, the sand cat who had offered no name, sat together, finishing a dinner of small fruits and cheeses for her and meats for him. 

Only as she had nibbled up the last fruit did Malina think to ask.  “This place is abandoned. The sand leaks in the gates, pours over the walls. It’s been empty a long time.  So where does the food come from?” She looked at her plate, wondering if it were some strange sort of oasis-illusion. 

“Where does the food come from?”:

Continue reading

Work From Home Blog: Day 21

Oli would like you to know that I need to rearrange my desk.

I mean, he’s not wrong, but if you could see the way he tries to get settled in the morning – So he jumps up on the middle right of the desk, behind the Laptop “Stand” (Carcassone on top of a book on top of a board game I have a writing credit one), to the pile of things I have to deal with – some book tape, some paperwork, and what looks like the sealer for big mylar bags, then behind the monitor “stand” (Complete Works of Shakespeare and then a stack of cookbooks through – I don’t normally look back here – muslin?, a 3×5″ spiral notebook, a half-burned candle stack from when my mother was getting a lot of teacher gifts…

…Mom taught 4thish grade for several years, from after I left home ’till she retired, so probably about 4 years ago, and I never actually knew teacher gifts were a thing growing up, but Mom certainly had a lot every time I went home for Christmas.  T. likes the Ferrerro Rochers and I like the containers they come in, but there’s also the scented candles, the mugs, the hot cocoa mixes….

…I kinda like this one, it smells like cinnamon.

Okay, so over the cinnamon candle and the cute corner punch – oh, that’s where that went! – and now he’s to the far back left corner, so he wends his way through two pen cases and a take-out soup container of pens, two books and right now a piece of 2×4 and a box of screws, and then he’s got to deal with my bullet journal, whatever pens I haven’t put away, my keys and cell phone (both of which I sometimes need to get into work programs), and of course, breakfast. Continue reading