Green's Hill-Amy Lane's Home - News

Thursday, October 8, 2015

Yeah, yeah-- still here!

So, thank you to everybody yesterday who chimed in, both with suggestions and commiserations.  I guess it's a mark of how concerned I really am that I was actually the first one to contact authorities--and now we'll just have to wait and see.  Mate and I have a plan--to be implemented after GRL-- and have some discussion under our belts, and sometimes just having a plan of action and a course of, "If this, then this," is all you need for some peace of mind.

In the meantime, preparations for GRL continue apace--and the kids…

OKay-- so I'm leaving Mate at home with them for an entire week, and something occurred to him.

"Hey, I'm going to need a schedule for when to pick them up, right?"

And oh my god YES because the kids have just… I mean, we do soccer and dance already, but now add GATE, Choir, and chess club to the mix and…

We need an honest to God schedule.

Squish was asking me, "Mom, do you ever think about alternate universes?"

"Yes, all the time, why?"

"Because, I like to think about a universe in which I take karate instead of soccer. Or sometimes a universe in which I take nothing at all and just sit home and do nothing everyday."

"You think that sounds like fun?"

"For a while, yes. But I think I'd get bored."

Well, she had GATE last night, and then dance, and then we saw The Princess Bride in the theaters, and then she woke up early to go to choir, and this afternoon, picking her up got drawn out because it was ZB's first day of chess club.

Tonight, after soccer, she cried for about fifteen minutes, not sure why she was crying.

And then went to bed a half an hour early.

Because that's why we dream about the alternate universe where video games are the most action we get all day and the rest of the world is made of sleep.  That's not the world we live in, and we miss it.

So, on that note, and with a trip to Folsom Octoberfest looming in my Friday night future, I think it's time for me to go to bed.

But I've got six more things to do first….

South Fast

So, it all started about a month ago.

The house to our left has been vacant for a while, but it was bought by a real estate company and they've been trying to flip it.  Unsuccessfully I might add--because our entire neighborhood has let our yards die in the drought, and our block looks like the last stop of the zombie apocalypse--which might explain the other thing that happened.

See, on our other side, a lovely, ailing elderly woman has lived for the past forty years. She finally passed away over the summer…

And that was the problem.

Apparently, her children didn't know what to do with the house.  It sat, vacant, and obviously vacant, for nearly two months.

And one night, about two weeks ago, somebody drove by and dumped a bunch of mattresses on the front yard.  That's it-- bare, ugly mattresses, no blankets, no nothing--and a chest of drawers with all the actual drawers taken out.

I sat, wondering if I should call someone to clear that shit out, and two nights later, we heard people move in.

Now, remember, I work extremely odd hours--so when I say "Night" I mean twelve-thirty a.m.  And there were kids running in and out, small ones, and adults, swearing loudly-- as in, "Get the fuck out of my way you little fuckin' shit!" kind of swearing, not just as they were moving in, but during all hours of the day after that.

There didn't seem to be any "moving"-- as in furniture, etc--but there DID seem to be a lot going into the garage from a beat up brown sedan without a back window.

And swearing at the kids.

And people at odd hours.

And the back house window-- the one that looks into our bedroom--has been tinted blood red.

And then, one of the men whom I've seen repeatedly, a skinny gangster with pale pale skin, black hair, a black mustache and zero body fat, took great care in locking a black bicycle to a post on the front porch.

The garage is obviously up and running-- and this guy seems to stay here--so why the black bike?

And why the people, different people, mind you, going into the house at all hours when the bike is out front? And why do they all gather to one place to smoke-- outside the house?

And I swear, two nights ago, I heard the sound of violent vomiting out front, and a fire truck pulled up-- no siren--and stayed there for quite a while.

Their garbage has a lot of large plastic containers in it, and a lot of old chemical containers.

And I keep waiting for a smell--a definitive smell of any sort--but all I'm getting is itchy eyes and the entire family is suffering what feels to be an allergy attack. Is it?

God, I hope so. I really really hope so.

But the fact is, suddenly our kind of tetchy neighborhood is looking downright scummy, and no amount of internet surfing can bring me any comfort. And what seemed to be a doable situation-- i.e., swimming along in an upside down loan because it kept a roof over our heads-- is suddenly a terrifying situation.

The house next door has turned into an episode of COPS, or Miami Vice, or the six-o'clock news and we are left floundering for ways to protect our family. Do we gather our shit and get the hell out, defaulting on our loan and trashing our credit and any plans we had to send our younger two kids to college with any security at all?

Do we hang in here, hope it's allergies, and seriously pray the house next door doesn't explode while we're all sleeping in our beds?

Do we put a time limit on it? Say, if these guys don't show signs of getting the hell out in a month, then we try to get out before the meth poisoning is too bad?

I mean, I'm a writer. I have a writer's imagination. I could be wrong, right?  I was walking the dogs yesterday morning, and the morning's group of smokers was hanging out in the corner of the driveway--a woman, a man, and a little girl.  The little girl had her backpack, and was smiling at the dogs, and when she and her mother both said, "Aw, cute dog!" I smiled back and waved and kept walking.  Why would somebody bring a kid to a meth buy, right?

But it was 9:30, and she was plenty old enough to be in school, and she wasn't.

And I'm worried. I mean, with any luck, I'll wake up tomorrow and these people will have moved, or I'll figure out that they're just moving in and I didn't see it, and what sounds to be a blender in the garage doesn't have anything to do with meth manufacture in spite of what the websites say.

But what about without luck?

Because the alternatives are terrifying, and remember? I'm a writer--I can imagine a lot of bad shit.

But someone on FB had a suggestion-- they suggested this be used in a book.

Just remember-- when this situation pops up in a book of mine? This is one situation you know I've been researching--mostly because I'm looking for a way out.

Wednesday, October 7, 2015

General Weirdness

*sigh*  You know that feeling that someone is never going to get you and yours? Ever. Like when I got into the hot tub at the health club with the woman who said, "Oh, no-- my whole family was so glad when the kids outgrew animated movies. I never have to see another Pixar picture again!"

I knew right then we could never been friends.

Have you ever felt that way about your own family?

Chicken got her birthday cards from both sets of grandparents--and my stepmom already told me about hers.  It was one of those social things where I laughed, but inside I was thinking, "Uh… I don't get it."

The card said, "Well, now that you're 21 there's more than one way to get free drinks for your birthday."  And then you opened the card and there were two pink balloons taped to the other side. After seeing the picture Chicken sent me, I think--and don't quote me on this--that the implication was either A. That Chicken could stuff them in her bra so she'd have cleavage, or B. That she should practice blowing things for beer.

If anyone has a meme that could quite convey the level of stunned horror that smacked me in the face when she sent me a picture of said card, I would be forever grateful.

"It's better than the one that dissed people with small dogs," she said apologetically. "Because that one was trying to actively slam you, but otherwise…"

"It's horrifying," I said, still flailing.

"God yes," she responded. "So glad it's not just me."

No-- not just her.

At the same dinner, it came about that a younger friend of the family had invited my sister to her "naughty lady party".  My stepsister was horrified--because this was like her niece or something and, ew!  And I was sort of horrified by the general concept. I don't do naughty lady parties-- I mean, I've been invited to one in my whole life, and the level of discomfort was like… well, think of an extra-large ribbed tampon on a light day.

Yeah. But the mental chafing was worse.

And while I'm pretty frank about sex (obvs) I think there is a really wide, indelible line between talking generalities and then getting specific about your own sex life with a group of people and visual aids.  I mean, I can raise my eyebrows and insinuate "sumpn sumpn" all I want, but that doesn't change the fact that nobody actually wants to envision me and Mate doing "anythn anythn" in the flesh, because, uhm, EW.  I mean, that's my one hard and fast rule-- I don't write anybody I know in real life having on page sex. (Much to Darrin's disappointment--I know, he told me himself, bless him!)

So given all this, after my sister said, "Yeah, no-- I couldn't go. Just too weird,"  I concurred, with, "Yeah-- naughty lady parties, just not my thing."

And my stepmom said, "Really? It's not your thing? I find that hard to believe."

-.-  And, again, if someone could come up with a meme for this, I'd be much obliged.

Because I think the implication was, because I write porn, I want to share my sex life in explicit detail with friend and stranger alike.

Please don't dissect the many ways that could be offensive. I'm trying to keep my optimism.

But once again, in the situation in which the people who love me longest and best know me the least--and my children as well.

*sigh*  I have yet to be able to capture that dynamic on page.  People always want a bad guy for those interactions. They always want to say, "racist, sexist, misogynistic, shaming…"

Whatever. The fact is, my parents sent my daughter a birthday card and a gift--how bad could they be? They came to dinner with Mate and I, so we could do birthday week, and they invited my sister when I--being the overcommitted flake that I am-- forgot, and that was really kind.  They are genuinely interested in my children--even if they don't understand them.

Love--and understanding and generation gaps and communication--they're all such prickly enterprises. I know my parents get frustrated because my children and I are so close I didn't leave a lot of room for other relatives. I don't know what to tell them-- I know when I was nineteen, I couldn't wait to get out of the house, out on my own (with Mate of course) and into a future where people assumed I was competent and not somehow defective. And now that I have grown children whom I assume are competent and not somehow defective, and with whom I communicate daily, I am baffled that they are not trying to run the fuck away from me much like I ran away from my parents.  Mate and I are frequently heard to say, "Really? You want to hang with us? Why on earth… never mind… come on, we're going for ice cream."

Once, my parents wanted a moment of privacy and told us all to leave them alone in a park in the worst neighborhood in downtown Sacramento. It took them ten minutes for the lightbulb to go on and come find us, and by then I'd already seen the flasher show his junk to the drug addict who propositioned me while the homeless guy barfed on the tree. I was thirteen.

Chicken--at 21--texts me when she sees this stuff, so I can assure her that she will only be marginally scarred for life.

Big T saves the story for me, so he can tell it in person.

And I, in turn, try not to insinuate that my children should stuff their bras or their jocks or practice blow jobs to get lucky in bars.

I guess every generation has it's own variations on traditions--and it's own approach to life, right? And if your own parents don't embarrass the crap out of you, who will?

Monday, October 5, 2015

*Kermit Flail* October, Pre-GRL style!

*gasps for breath*

Holy COW! Did you all see that? That was SEPTEMBER! It went at the speed of light-- we'll never catch it now!  

*wheezes to a halt*

Well, here we are in October, and it's right before GRL in San Diego, and dudes… going so fast. And I"m getting SO excited!

So here we have a bunch of BRAND NEW AUTHORS that I'm happy to see into the fray--Antonia Aquilante, Lissa Kassey,  Ki Brightly and R.J. Jones-- as well as some authors that I've met both personally and on line!  Can we say hello to the funny and brilliant Cat Grant, who has an unexpected release this month?  How about Andrew Q. Gordon, who is one of the nicest--and the brightest--men I've ever met! As well as Anna Martin-- sweet as pie and lovely in person; Devon Rhodes--stunning and brilliant and with the world's most amazing smile; Talia Carmichael, the infinitely kind and kinda shy; August Li, KING of the the beautiful cover art, the wicked snark, and the amazing world building, and, pulling up the rear (they don't even have buy links yet) my beloveds, Cherie Noel and Rhae Camdyn, do staunch allies and lovely people who have been working together on a soooooper sekrit novel that they only just now revealed.



by Andrew Q. Gordon

Forty years ago the Spirit of Vengeance—a Purpose—took William Morgan as its host, demanding he avenge the innocent by killing the guilty. Since then Will has retreated behind Gar, a façade he uses to avoid dealing with what he’s become. Cold, impassive, and devoid of emotion, Gar goes about his life alone—until his tidy, orderly world is upended when he meets Ryan, a broken young man cast out by his family. Spurred to action for reasons he can't understand, Gar saves Ryan from death and finds himself confronted by his humanity.

Spending time with Ryan helps Will claw out from under Gar’s shadow. He recognizes Ryan is the key to his reclaiming his humanity and facing his past. As Will struggles to control the Purpose, Ryan challenges him to rethink everything he knew about himself and the spirit that possesses him. In the process, he pushes Will to do something he hasn't done in decades: care.

The Prince's Consort
by Antonia Aquilante

Legends tell of large cats defending the principality of Tournai, but such creatures have been lost to time.

Or have they?

Prince Philip inherited the throne at a young age, and since then, his life has centered around ruling his country and resisting those pressuring him to take a wife and conceive an heir—forcing him to hide his attraction to men. When kind-hearted Amory is offered to the prince in exchange for more time for Amory’s father to complete a commission, both Philip and Amory are horrified. But Philip agrees to keep Amory at the palace, where they gradually become friends, then lovers. For the first time in his life, Philip is free to share not only his heart, but the magical shape-shifting ability that runs in the royal bloodline.

Neither Amory nor Philip imagined falling in love, and they certainly don’t expect the lengths those who oppose their relationship will go to keep them apart—maybe even resorting to murder.

Storming Love: Wild Fire
Jade & Conrad
by Talia Carmichael

Life brings an unexpected complication to a man who was only seeking some relaxation, yet what he found was a man who would light his soul on fire…
Jade Blakstone wanted some time away from his hectic schedule and took a trip to get away. He never expected to find a man who would strike all the right notes within him. Together they burn hot and fast, making Jade wonder if there is more between them than just a passing dalliance. But as hot as they burn for each other, so do the wild fires that have broken out. Conrad is a firefighter and Jade fears that they will be over before they begin when he goes to fight the fires raging in Northern California.
From their very first meeting, Conrad Kendrick knew Jade was something special. Now he just had to convince Jade that although they have chemistry, there was something that was even sweeter—the connection of two souls who have found

Evolution: Genesis
by Lissa Kassey

Evolution made music history when one bandmate turned vampire and another joined the vampire hate movement Preservation Group. Gene is trying to cling to the music as his relationship with Kerstrande begins to spiral into the darkness of hidden demons. Jaded by his years as a vampire flunkie, Kerstrande uses his newly won power over New York City to destroy his enemies and protect Gene. But a demon called a Fallen begins to take control of KC, slowly devouring his soul and through him the entire city. Battling against the evil that wants to destroy him, Kerstrande fights to hold onto Gene’s brightness.
A power unlike any other grows within Gene and shines like a beacon to the demons surrounding him. Realizing that only he can save his lover, Gene is willing to do anything to shake the darkness loose. Even if it means reshaping the future, the band, and his own existence.

The Shape of Honey
by Ki Brightley 

Yulian Volkov is an entrepreneur and lone werewolf who hates the city. At a pack meeting, he learns the only member he’s attracted to is being expelled for crimes unspecified. Yulian strikes a deal with the pack leader to allow Rolly Witten to live on his farm and work in his Meadery. Although enjoying handsome Rolly’s company, Yulian must tread carefully, since Rolly doesn’t trust him and the pack doesn’t acknowledge homosexuality exists. Meanwhile, Yulian stealthily courts Rolly by teaching him the value of his wolf side.

Rolly, who’s known he was gay since he was a teen, has accepted a life of solitude—and a life of crime. He has no desire to relocate. Yet Yulian’s trust in his ability to do honest work builds his confidence. As life is settling well for them, Rolly learns a friend from his old pack had a crush on him, and he’s torn between returning his friend’s feelings or pursuing the budding relationship with Yulian. But that’s not their worst problem. Assassins are trying to take out both wolves, and they need to figure out who wants them dead or all the trust and happiness they’re building together won’t matter.

Cairn and Covenant
By August Li

An assassin’s unexpected mercy granted Octavian Rose his life and freed him from his father’s control, but it left him with little more than the clothes on his back and the determination not to waste his chance at a life of his choosing.

As Octavian sets out to make a name for himself, he refuses to compromise his ideals for money or status—a decision tested as he works his way up the ranks as a mercenary fighter and novice mage. Along the way he forges friendships, takes lovers, and makes bitter enemies, all while striving for the power he feels he deserves and can wield fairly.

With the advent of the Blessed Epoch and the discovery of new cultures, the world is changing. Octavian’s decisions will affect not only those closest to him but will have profound worldwide consequences that he cannot begin to imagine. For twenty years, Octavian does what he must, and his choices bring him brilliant victories alongside crushing losses. Time and again, he must choose between what is right for all and what is beneficial to him, while hoping for the wisdom to tell the difference.

FREE Short—A Lesson and a Favor
Eight years before meeting Yarrow and Duncan in Ash and Echoes, the man now known as Sasha lived and breathed for a single purpose: to kill for gold and the glory of his cult and dark god without emotion or hesitation. In this lost tale of Sasha’s early career, he’s dispatched on a difficult mission—one with a surprise in store for him.

FREE Short—Archer's Regret 
Sylvain Damasca has seen and done it all since walking away from his wealthy family and the promise of a future title. He’s had more men, money, and adventure than he can count—including a part in the founding of Rosecairn—but he’s restless, and no amount of gold, wine, or casual companionship can scratch his itch. It might be time to deal with the one thing he left unfinished, if he can find the courage to face the only man who ever got underneath his skin.

The One That I Want
By R.J. Jones

Jason escapes into the magic of a Broadway play every weekend. Musicals always have a happy ending and for a few hours he can believe there’s a happy ending waiting for him, too. When the tall drink of water who works on the top floor of Jason’s building, wants to take him on a date, Jason is surprised. After all, Jason is awkward and skinny, and sees himself as a boring accountant, while Paul is tall, dark, and incredibly hot.

Despite Jason’s reservations, Paul and Jason start dating and attending the shows Jason adores. But if Paul likes musicals as much as Jason, why does he always doze off? Is Paul leading a double life? Does he have a wife tucked away somewhere?

Jason knows Paul is hiding something and when the secrets come out, Jason finds his fantasy comes to life, right there on the stage.

Hopelessly Devoted
by R.J. Jones

One year on from Paul's proposal, Jason is living a life he never dreamed of. As he fusses with his tie and readies to walk down the aisle, he reminisces about the previous twelve months. It hasn't all been smooth sailing for the happy couple in the lead up to their wedding, with obstacles big and small thrown in their way.

Marrying one of New York’s most eligible bachelors has Jason’s stomach in knots. Expectations of their society wedding are high, but out of love for Paul, Jason goes along with the grand plans because he understands Paul’s family has a reputation to maintain. But Paul has a surprise up his sleeve that just may see Jason getting the wedding of his dreams.

Follow Jason on his journey as he prepares to marry one of the most eligible bachelors in New York and find out just how Dave got his name.

Rites of Passage
by Cat Grant

Adulthood sucks.

With college graduation behind them, Seth Thompson and Bilal al-Mansoori enjoy their last carefree summer. But the perfect future Seth’s envisioned since high school—moving to New York to pursue a career as an artist—doesn’t appeal to city-phobic Bilal. A job offer allowing Bilal to remain in upstate New York drives a wedge between them, and Seth’s family’s well-meaning interference doesn’t help at all.

A trip to the UK for Bilal’s sister’s wedding offers a chance to get back on the same page. But their holiday is abruptly cut short when the unthinkable happens…

And Seth faces the very real possibility that he may never see the man he loves alive again.

Storming Love: Wildfire
Caleb & Shaun
by Devon Rhodes

Sometimes saying goodbye can end up saving a relationship. 

Breaking up with Caleb was the hardest thing Shaun had ever done. It left a huge hole in his home and in his heart. But feeling like he was constantly competing with Caleb's adrenaline-rush hobbies pushed him to make a he constantly second-guesses, especially now that Caleb's gone with his Hot Shots team for a big fire in California. 

Caleb knows he's a lucky man. His family supports him and he's able to do what he loves for both work and play. It took losing Shaun, though, for him to realize that his priorities were out of whack. And now his luck might be running out as his crew gets trapped by a fast-moving fire line. 

All they really need is a second chance...if Caleb can stay alive long enough to make it home.

My Prince
By Anna Martin

After growing up in a rough part of town, George Maguire worked his way out of Manchester and to a career as a design engineer. Alexander van Amsberg, an architecture student at the University of Edinburgh, wasn’t the sort of guy he normally had explosive, hotel-room one-night-stands with. Alex was charming, classy, and, as George later learns, Prince of the Netherlands.

Fate brings them together again, and Alex makes sure to get his sexy stranger’s phone number this time. Despite all the reasons why they shouldn’t work, something clicks, and Alex thinks that this time, he might have found the right guy. But Alex’s aristocratic ex stirs up trouble in the press for George and his humble family, and Alex realizes he has to get real about having a boyfriend from the wrong side of town.

While George acknowledges his modest upbringing, he doesn’t let anyone insult his family. Life’s no fairy tale, and regardless of his royal title, Alex might destroy his one chance for happily ever after.

Say Hello to Jackass Flats
by Cherie Noel and Rhae Camdyn

On the surface, Jackass Flats seems as common as ticks, tornadoes, or tumbleweeds on the plains of North Texas. But, scratch past the small town charm of Mama Cee's restaurant, or Gear Grinders Garage & Machine Shop, and you'll find a whole mess of interesting goings on. Mix a DEA investigation running off the rails, a Paul Bunyan sized French émigré dealing exotic cars, a long eared, lonely deputy scouting for stuff and nonsense at the infamous local casino, and a bow-chicka-wow-wow romance track playing at full volume, and things get spicy with cayenne, cilantro, and a heartwarming dash of good natured hilarity. As Sheriff Drayton Jeepers likes to say whilst stroking the road kill he claims is a toupee, "No one south of the highway lives in their own skin." Yeah, we don't know what he means either, but finding out promises to be fun!

Sunday, October 4, 2015

Reasons I love...

My friend Berry Jello--

Reason 1-- I'm at her Scentsy party and I hand her a little wax fragrance tester.

"What's that?" she asks-- she is a little loopy with wine.

"I dunno. Smells like vanilla and cum."

"Oh my God!"


"Did you guys hear that?" she said loudly. "Amy says this smells like vanilla and cum!"

"Uh, Berry, there was a reason I said that quietly to you."

"Oh, sorry! What's it called?"

"White Satin Sheets."

She smells it, and then says, a little quieter, "Oh yeah. You're right. It does smell like vanilla and cum."

Reason 2--

"Smell this, Amy. It's my favorite. It's called "My Dear Watson."

"Mmm…"  (I bought this scent later.)  "That's…"  I think of Sherlock, smelling John's neck. "Nungh…"

"Right?  And they're so cute together."

"Yeah. Totally. I'm buying this."

"Good. YOu can write more fanfic."

She's so right. I'm TOTALLY writing more fanfic to this smell.

Reason 3-- We are playing a game in which we try to guess what our hostess is thinking. There are a bunch of free association words, and we answer as though we are Berry Jello.

Berry complains that I have missed most of them, and do not know her at all.

"No!" I reply. "See?  Here, under "Run"-- what did you put?"

"I put 'No thank you'."

"See what I put?"

"It says, 'Why, am I being chased?'"  She giggles.  "Yeah, okay. You know me."


We are listening to the kid's play list-- The Hanging Tree from The Hunger Games was playing, and I remember that he's actually read all three books.

"You getting excited?"

He smiles shyly. "Yup."

"Good. You'll have to answer all my questions."


He's so proud.


We are creating the kids playlist.

"Do they have 'March of the Cambreadth'?"

Dude-- that alone!


"Do we have 'Rocky Road to Dublin'?"

And again…


Got her first work paycheck and bought a cat. *happy sigh*  Just like mom.

Big T--

Came home from watching The Martian and gave me a brief history in movie mechanics and thematics relating to interstellar travel.

It was highly informative.

I am impressed.


"She picked me up, did you see, she picked me up… I shall lay in her arms and sleep now."

And thus, I end up blogging holding a small dog.


"I shall lay here until summoned, and then my licking shall be mighty."


"What?" She is scandalized.  "What in God's name is this?"

"It's my iPod!"

"Where's your playlist!"

"I don't have the playlist--don't forward that!"

"I hate that song."

"You love the Foo Fighters!"

"Not when they come after the Beatles!"

"Stop that!"

"What in the hell is wrong with your radio!"

"It's set on random!"

"That's the problem! What in the hell! How do you just listen to music when you don't know what comes next?"

"Isn't that what life is like?"

"Don't play that song again!"

And so forth.  I haven't been in a slap fight in so long… *sniffle*  I miss Mary...

Friday, October 2, 2015


Okay-- I am extremely pleased and surprised and flattered at how many of you REALLY love the Cartinski (as a reader has dubbed it) dynamic. (You can chime in as to whether you like that or John/Jack, actually-- I've been calling it John/Jack.)

One reader hath gone above and beyond and made me many many memes with our heroes on it, so I need to write at LEAST enough more episodes to use some of those up.  And I'm not arguing with that-- I like my middle aged dads. Have one myself, actually-- it's just nice to see the appreciation runs deep :-)


* * *

The silence in the hospital room stretched long and thin.  Stiles sat near the head of the bed, arms crossed, glare focused at the top of Jack Carter's blond head.

Jack sat on the other side of the bed, elbows on his knees, blue eyes glued to the pale face of Stiles's father, as John Stilinski breathed steadily in and out.

Derek Hale stuck his head into the room.





Derek stalked into the room, right into Stiles's body space, and bared his teeth. His canine teeth.


Stiles's head snapped back and he stared unhappily into Derek's blue eyes.  "Derek, you can't possibly mean--"

"I do," Derek growled. "Can't you smell them?"

Stiles looked away from those bright blue, innocence-killing eyes.  "I don't have your nose, oh mighty wolfen warrior," he snapped.

Derek let out a sigh and leaned his head until his wrinkled brow touched Stiles's.

"Please tell me you're not just being an asshole."

Stiles darted his eyes to where his father lay, heavily bandaged, and fought for breath.

"Derek, it's my dad."

"I know."


"But he's not just yours anymore."

Stiles let out a growl that sounded surprisingly like Derek's.  "I do not agree with that assessment."

Derek sighed. "I don't care if you agree or not. I can smell them, Stiles. Like Scott can smell me and you. It's a big deal."

Stiles let out a little whimper. "It was my fault--"

Derek shook his head. "So wasn't."

"It was--"

"It wasn't."

Both of them looked, surprised, to where Carter was still sitting at John's side. Tentatively, like he was afraid of his audience, Carter reached out a battered finger and stroked the back of John's knuckles as they lay on the sheet.

"Wasn't your fault, Stiles," he rasped. "Was mine."

Stiles and Derek let out identical sighs.

"It wasn't," Derek murmured to him.

"No, no--wasn't," Stiles agreed.

"Then you need to leave the room."  Derek wasn't a wolf anymore, but Stiles was actually more impressed than ever.

*  *  *

Stiles was the one who discovered that the boundary between Eureka County and Beacon Hills did weird shit to the supernatural.

He'd been out with the others on his mountain bike while Scott, Liam, and Derek were running in their furry forms.  They were further out behind Derek's property than Stiles, at least, could ever remember being, when Scott leapt over a log in his path…

And sparked blue, landing on the other side of the log in his human form, naked and fucking surprised.

Liam went leaping right over the damned log, but Derek stopped, executing some sort of ninja flip to keep himself clear.

For a moment, the woods were silent, as Stiles stared at his naked friends and they stared back.

"The fuck?"

"I feel…"  Scott mumbled, standing and wobbling a little.  "I feel…"  He put his hand out, like he was leaning on a wall, and howled instead as his hand sparked blue again.  they all watched as his paw turned furry, with claws on one side, and then turned pink and raw and human when he pulled it back.

"Oh," Scott mumbled, looking at Stiles in panic. "This is… bad."

And then they heard the gunshot, and the blue laser came out of nowhere, missed Scott by inches, and blew the log he'd jumped over into splinters.

Stiles and Derek looked at each other, and did the couple-sympatico thing that they did sometimes.  Scott and Liam were naked and confused, and Stiles and Derek were not-- somebody needed to distract fire.

Stiles grabbed Scott's phone from his pocket and threw it across the invisible veil.  "Scott!"

Scott's attention snapped forward and he caught the phone with werewolves instincts, and Stiles shouted, "Call my dad!"

And then he and Derek started screaming and yelping at the top of their lungs, and the blue laser bolts followed them through the forest, towards the rubble of Derek's old house, as they screamed back through the forest.

*  *  *

Carter's cock, thick and wide, was stretching John's ass so wide, so sweetly, he lost the ability to brain words.

"Nungh…"  He pounded on Jack's shoulders, trying to beg for faster, for harder, when Jack was just moving slow as syrup.

Jack chuckled and lowered his head to blow in John's ear.  "You really like this, don't you?"

Oh, Lord. Everything had faded into the pressure and burn in his asshole, the swollen ache of his cock, and the smell and texture of Carter's lovely body as he drove hard and slow into John.


In John's whole life, he couldn't remember when sex had taken him so far outside himself, immersed him so totally into this other world with the person inside his body.  He clenched Jack's shoulders harder, so physically needy for pleasure, it was like those long years without any joy had never existed at all.

Carter chuckled more, his breath short, and started to move a little faster.

"Ah… yes…"  John closed his eyes, afraid they'd tear up.  How embarrassing, crying from pleasure, crying in front of another man.

But Carter grabbed a handful of John's hair and forced his head back. "No hiding," he growled, and John nodded.

"Okay… just… just… don't stop…"

Carter nodded, his jaw set, and the deliciously slow lovemaking that had become their afternoon suddenly sped up, huge and fast. Lightning and thunder, rolled through John's body, blinding him, deafening him, to everything but Jack's harsh pants in his ears and the euphoria rushing through his blood.


Like wildfire, the climax rushed them both, and Carter whooped just as John gasped.  Carter's cock pulsed with orgasm, and John moaned, spraying cum over his stomach and chest.  The world stopped, for just that breath, and then Carter fell to the side of him, his spend rushing out all over John's ass, and John let out a groan and threw his arm over his eyes.

The sound that issued from John's throat then was pure joy.

"Good?" Jack asked, tracing a pattern between John's nipple and his belly button.

"You've killed me," John laughed, so replete he wasn't sure he could move.

Then Carter licked his nipple and he laughed, pulling his knees up to his chest.  Carter laughed too and continued to play, tickling behind his knees and his ribs and his tender stomach. John rolled to his side, laughing like a kid, and Carter stopped tickling him long enough to rest his chin on John's upper arm.

"I like this," Carter said soberly.

"I'm not complaining."  John smiled into Carter's pretty blue eyes, feeling winsome and young for the first time in forever.

"I'd like more of this," Carter said.  He smiled. "I'm not a smart man…"

"But I know what I like," John finished for him. Yeah, he'd heard all about Carter's job in Eureka. Carter never said it, never mentioned the times he'd seen something that the rest of the world hadn't, but John was truly coming to believe the world would have been destroyed a couple of times over if Carter wasn't doing what he was doing.

"I'd like more of this," Carter said softly.

"How do we do that?"  Seriously.  "I'm up to my ass in werewolves, Jack. You live in a sentient house that would probably try to eat me if I ever came over."

"I don't share," Carter responded, grimacing.  He sighed. "Yeah, I know. Pretty dreams, right? You and me, setting up house. I mean…"

Allison had left him while pregnant with his child. Carter had two stepchildren, Zoe, and a one year old in shared custody, and all of those people were in Eureka.  He wasn't just going to walk out on them--and John didn't want them to.

"It's forty miles too far," John sighed.  He brightened after a moment. "But, you know, Derek and Stiles might move to Eureka, and maybe Scott can move the base of ops--"

Carter was shaking his head. "No-- no, I don't think so. We had this weird influx of druids one year, and Fargo set up this sort of supernatural border patrol--"

John swung his legs over the edge of the bed. "Wait-- what does it do?"

Carter shrugged. "I don't know--but whatever it did to the druids, they left us the hell alone."

John groaned, suddenly seeing all the ways this could go south, just as his cell phone rang.

He picked it up and Scott McCall shouted through the speaker, his voice pitching and yawing as, it sounded like, he swung from form to form.

Carter started throwing on his uniform, which had been strewn around their usual hotel room in anticipation of a long lunch, saying, "Oh man, that can't be good."

John was pulling his writing pad and pen out of his shirt pocket, while he threw the shirt over his shoulders.  "Okay, okay son-- calm down. Now give me the nearest landmark--"  He put his hand over the receiver and glared at Jack.  "They are in Eureka, Carter, and someone is chasing them with a laser, dammit!

"Aw crap," Jack muttered, pulling on his boots.

*  *  *

Jack drove while John conferred with Scott on one phone, and pulled out Carter's other phone to call Parrish.  "The guy with the gun is on the other side of the barrier," he snarled. "But we don't want to shoot him with real bullets if we can help it-- according to… Sherriff Carter, that blue laser will only blow things apart if they're supernatural."

"So Derek's toast?" Parrish asked, as though making sure.

John closed his eyes. "No-- Derek is not toast."  He thought of Stiles, try ing to mountain bike faster than a glowing laser gun.  "My son-- my son is most likely toast."

"Your son is not toast," Carter snapped.  "Here-- give me my phone--"

"You're trying to drive!"

Carter grunted.  "Car!"

"Yes sir?"

"Call Allison."

"Your former wife no longer resides in your resid--"

"She's at the company ruling the world with her husband, dammit. Now poke her, and tell her we need to put that damned border ray on hold!"

"Sir, are you sure she'll take your calls?"

"Tell her my boyfriend's son is in danger, dammit, and use those exact words!"

The car shut up long enough to go have it's conversation, and John looked at him.

"Carter, did you just out yourself to your whole town?"

Carter shrugged. "Allison knew," he said, almost defensively.

"That's really brave," John said, his body remembering the way that possession had rolled through it.  This man was so much more than the dumbest employee in Eureka.

To be continued… 

(Sorry guys-- tired-- I'll continue this next FRiday.)

The Snap

Chicken's Cat, Val, who is chunky and
vocal and loves the boys better.
Chicken adores her.
I'm not sure I can articulate the thing that causes the snap.

There is a moment when my brain--which has been running like a hamster on a wheel for some time--simply stops.

The hamster is thrown off the fucking wheel, into a wall, and it just lays there for a while, looking dazedly around while the wheel continues to turn in the background.

The hamster threw me off of the wheel today.

The only productive thing i did was buy milk, and check in on my offspring.  For those curious, Squish gave a speech for Student Council and feel she did well, Zoomboy has a C in English now, Big T is as flamingly liberal as I am and thinks Trevor Noah is doing a splendid job on The Daily Show, and Chicken has procured a 5 yo rescue cat named Valyrie.  Mate had his own snap tonight and almost fell asleep before we served him his cake.  All the kids are a little put out that Mate and I didn't make much of our birthdays this year, but what can I say? We're both lying dazed by the hamster wheel, going, "Oh for sweet fuck's sake, we have to get back on that thing?"

So tomorrow expect Fanfic Frida-- and if we want some interactive stuff, PLEASE send me pictures (either on FB, Twitter, or here) of the couple you most want to see. I got some VERY wonderful John/Jack pictures for my birthday, and if I don't hear anything definitive, I'm doing John/Jack again, because I think we could do some hurt comfort there, don't you?

And from here on out, it's a dead sprint to GRL, so expect to hear some of that.  I'm hideously behind, I really am.  But I guess I needed to catch my breath before jumping on the wheel again.

Wednesday, September 30, 2015

Since you all asked...

I had a wonderful birthday :-)

Big T and the little kids gave me the movies Ghost, Blade Runner, and To Kill a Mockingbird.

Mate took me out to dinner--and my friend Wendy gave us a gift certificate to the steak place we love the most.

Chicken gave me this amazing .gif. gave me Mate's present in time for HIS birthday tomorrow.

Dreamspinner Press gave me Truth in the Dark available on audio, narrated by Nick J. Russo, who's talent continues to blow my mind.

My bestie Mary gave me pretty pictures of pretty boys-- hello new phone screen saver.

And you all?
You all gave me a zillion greetings on FaceBook that made me feel special all day.

Thanks all!  Night!

Tuesday, September 29, 2015

An Unusual Pre-Birthday

So, this morning, the lovely, inestimable, AMAZING fantastic Rhys Ford did a terrible thing to me today.
She wished me Happy Birthday.  

Now see, a couple of years ago, Rhys took me on one of my best and most memorable birthdays to date-- she took me to an alpaca farm, and to eat with her in San Diego, and we dragged Chicken along and on the whole, one of my better birthdays. But when I was down there, my whole "time disability" clicked in-- and I mean extreme. I insisted it was my birthday for an entire day when it wasn't, and Rhys just nodded and smiled and humored the crazy person, and this whole thing would be much funnier if it wasn't for the fact that I misjudged when I was planning to come home (on Mate's B-day) and had to add $100 to my ticket to come back in time. 

So, this morning, the joke was on me-- my birthday is tomorrow. 

And thank God.

I spent this birthday in my sweats, with no makeup, probably creeping out my dentist who was giving me a filling. The filling itself was sort of a pisser-- I hadn't NEEDED a filling until the hygienist accidentally popped out the old one last week while flossing my teeth.  So, today it was the long needle, the deep deep nerves, the drill, and, when they were done? The drooling.

OH, the embarrassing drooling.  Did I mention I went to the post office, mailing Chicken's birthday package and some other envelopes while drooling? So while in the line at the post office, I complained about the damned postage machine that was full of LIES-- while drooling. 

"Da mathine-- da mathine toll me an ga' me da pothdage, thee?"

"Yes, ma'am, but this obviously isn't an envelope-- there's stuff that's not bending inside."

"Dere pothtcards-- DON'T BEND DEM!-- Dere thpothed to be thent…"

"But ma'am, it won't bend--"

"DON'T BEND DEM! Jutht nebermind. Quit i'. Leab me awone to bay a dollar thix. I don' cawe."

And of course, I didn't care by then, either. I was too busy wiping drool.  *headdesk*

Today was too much work to do, and soccer, and me cooking dinner, and jollying the kids to homework and in the background, FB was popping up "Happy Birthday" banners like wildfire. 

I was… flattered. 

It was my faux birthday and people were wishing me happy returns.  

It made me want to dress up tomorrow and do my makeup and try not to drool. (Although I assume that will stay gone now that the damned anesthetic has worn off.)  It made me want to celebrate my birthday, dammit! You know the way you do as a kid, where you wear something special and hope the whole world knows it's your day?

So, thanks Rhys. Apparently that birthday WEEKEND was the gift that keeps on giving.  Hopefully today sucked up all my bad day juju, and tomorrow can be a really nice birthday-- even if I'm the only one who knows why I'm wearing the nice clothes and has done the makeup.  

(Mate will notice-- I think we're doing our birthday date tomorrow, since his birthday is on October 1st. I have ordered his present--I'm so excited. I hope I got the right one!)

Fucking Monday

*  The @midnight episode with Jack McBrayer was the best thing about my day. Saying. Surprising minx that he was, I very much enjoyed watching the other players and Chris Hardwick tease him into relaxing and kicking ass on the show. Favorite moment? 

Chris Hardwick was just about to tell him that because it was his first time on the show, the fact that Jack was in last place still wasn't getting him kicked off of the final round.

To which Jack responded, "Please let me leave!"

I died laughing. Particularly because THAT'S how I felt about this entire fucking day.

*  First of all, I've done some math this year. ZB is going to a different school than Squish, and while Mate drops him off in the morning, I pick him and Squish up in the afternoons. I am losing between 30 and 45 minutes out of my day because of this. And because of a change in the soccer/dance schedule, I went from two nights a week doing extracurricular activities to three, plus some extras on the side (Squish wants in the GATE program, which means I pick ZB up at 2:30 and Squish up at 4:30 and THEN we all ride together to dance lessons!)  All told, I lost between 5-7 hours of time a week which I used previously to work. Given that the rest of my day is a little more fractured, It's like trying to do 40 hours worth of work in 32, and I'm scrambling. So, if I'm late with e-mails, or absent on social media (although I seem to bitch more when I'm stressed because I can't concentrate, so that's not a good measurement) or if you sent me an interview that I thought I could do or asked me a question that I was SURE I could get to--

I can't. I just flat out can't. And it's driving me crazy. I worked so hard to be reliable and I've been a fucking twatwhacking mess since… June, mostly, but I thought it would get better when things settled down. Turned out, things are settling down with 7 less hours and I don't know what to do to get them back. 

So, yes. Happy MOnday, the hamster wheel is going faster, run you little bastard run!

*  And we started out this Monday with poop in the hallway. And under Squish's bunk. And pretty much in piles everywhere. Squish was late to school because: poop.  

Good morning!

*  And I got to aqua and it turns out that the aqua classes that have been keeping me alive and mobile have all been canceled. Seriously-- I was M/W/F like clockwork, and the only ones they have left are T/Th. Which will teach me to bitch about the instructors btw-- I should have known that was coming.

*  Got home and worked past my nap time.  I napped for about 45 minutes and  when it was time to go get ZB and then Squish, I… well, I had my head up my ass, or down the editing rabbit hole or… whatever. I went to Squish's school first, which meant I was 20 minutes late picking up Zoomboy and then 5 minutes late when I came back and got Squish.  They were fine--but *headdesk*-- there goes mother of the year… 

*  Got back and worked past the postage time.  The good news is, I've submitted the damned book, and I can pull my head out of my ass for at least a couple of days. And since I've got a dentist appointment tomorrow (grrrrr….)  I should be able to get to the post office! 

*  The bad news is that I've been holding back the raging waters with my finger in the dike while I've been frantically finishing this project with my other hand. I am SO FAR BEHIND. I can't even write another list, because it will just make me cry.

*  Whatever it was I wanted to make for dinner got subverted for my need for comfort carbs and dudes… I don't want to talk about dinner. It was tasty and horrid.  Ulg.


This is sort of a pathetic whine about MOnday.  I mean, Chicken worked sick, and had to deal with $200 repair on her car-- that was a worse Monday. Mate has had soccer meetings for the last month of Mondays-- that would put a damper on ANY day of the week. 

And when I posted a whine on Twitter/FB, the general response I got was, "It HAS been a cruel and unusual Monday, hasn't it?"

So I'm going to be interactive if I can-- what basically miserable stupid shitty thing happened to make your Monday less than ideal?  No tragedies-- I mean… dudes. If somebody passed away, that's not a Monday thing, that's a big painful deal. No-- this is, you know, dogs pooping, cars breaking down, checks not making it on time, the traffic light that lasted 45 minutes with the kids screaming in the back… share your Monday story, because right now, my whine is pretty pathetic, made painful mostly because I had my head up the dragon cave and wasn't functioning on all 8 cylinders. 

What's YOUR Monday?