Buffy: the Invitation (an Addergoole Crossover), Part X

Part I: http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1096503.html
Part II: http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1100922.html
Part III: http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1104619.html#cutid1
Part IV: http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1108537.html
Part V: http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1112216.html
Part VI: http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1124762.html
Part VII: http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1134781.html
Part VIII: http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1139412.html
Part IX: http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1146552.html

Help! I'd like clever individual titles for these chapters as well - now taking suggestions for 8, 9, and this one!


“So the whole school is underground?” Xander was the last down the narrow staircase, and he was taking his time, looking around as if the old barn would suddenly reveal something more exciting than a concrete stairway hidden under a trap door. “Doesn’t that get a little, oh, I don’t know, crypt-like? Grave-y? Dank and claustrophobic?”
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Meta-Conversation Part One: Jaco answers some questions

You, the readers, asked Jaco of Lady Taisiya's Fourth Husband some questions, and he's ready to answer.

Jaco wanders into the room, chains jangling loudly, and perches on a stool, looking around at the audience. His eyebrows raise: so many women. He turns to me with a little headtilt.

“You said they had questions. You said you picked me?” If he is a little defensive, well, he is no longer used to crowds.

“Onter’s bought into the system too much, and Callum is a bit shy around women, you have to admit.” I shrug, perhaps a bit apologetic myself, and reach over. Protocol dictates I not touch you, but I hand him the cards, and he flips through them.

“Divorce?” He settles on that one first. “What’s that?”

“Well, I suppose that means it doesn’t exist in your world, then.”
( Read more... )

the Wrong Kidnapping, a story of Tír na Cali for Patreon

The collar clicking around Trey's neck was supposed to be the culmination of months - years - of planning, the final realization of all his hopes and dreams.

It made the feeling all that much more sour. This collar wasn't pretty, like the ones in the contraband romance novels. It wasn't light and airy, it wasn't comfortable, like the ones Trey had played with, in underground clubs and quiet swing parties. It didn't come with nice words and a quiet understanding of his place in the world, a sense of comfortable inevitability, a sense of honored submission.


read on...