Aug 16, 2026 · 22 min · 9 segments
A cozy contemporary fantasy about a chaotic witchy family and a terribly organised admin assistant, taking up residence at Frightful Manor. Set in the same world as “The Twelve Days of Witchmas.”…
Tansy Rayner RobertsHostA House Party with Tureen's part one why am i saying part one it's a it's 7a and then there will be a 7b my chapters are getting longer this is how i'm dealing with it 7a every dining room is a temporary prison where politeness chains the guests to the laden board renard If you can believe it, said Daniel, former Australian soap star and current Blight-in-law, in his drawling Australian accent, this is less of a shit show than the last big Blight all-in family shindig.
He'd spoken just quietly enough that the only two people who heard, probably... were Libby and Daniel's glamorous wife, Glad.
All three of them were pressed against the corridor wall, trying not to be accidentally clubbed around the head by the flailing broomsticks wielded by Great Aunt's Batty, Birdie and Binky, a chaotic force of nature, if ever there was one.
These three old beans were dressed in all black, with literal pointy hats and rocking the classic crone aesthetic so hard that Libby would not have been surprised to learn they'd been modelling for witchmas cards since the 19th century.
He's right, said Glad in a deadpan voice, checking her eyeliner in a compact mirror, then taking a selfie with a phone that hung from a jewelled cuff on her wrist.
This was the largest quantity of blights that Libby had seen gathered in one place.
They crammed into the corridor outside the dining room like they were queuing for Selkie Whisker concert tickets.
There was no consistency at all in the choices made by this chaotic household.
Libby recognised Glad's ensemble from the last issue of Glamoured that had landed on Libby's desk while she was finalising the Blackpool Rites era of Anna Minotaur's funeral tour.
a sharper and whiter tone than her husband's natural sandy hair, and her make-up was all in silvers and pale pinks.
Further up the corridor, the triplets known as the Upper Girls Beryl, Florence, Prunella were garbed in near-identical dinner-party chic, all black silk and pearls looking somehow both timeless and terribly old-fashioned.
And most of all, like they were feeling the cold and annoyed about it, Libby had no regrets about avoiding this problem herself.
Winifred was also in black, a wide tutu skirt, striped pink and black stockings, and a short but incredibly fluffy bone-white jacket, which looked a million times warmer than whatever her elder sisters had going on.
She was chatting to Sabella, 22, and Thaddeus, 18, the babies of their respective family lines.
Sibela wore pyjama pants, a lavender flannel shirt that fell to her knees, and a shapeless grey beanie tugged over her ears.
She was still somehow even more impossibly beautiful than her second oldest cousin.
Thaddeus, who had shoulders nearly as wide as Horace's, paired with a familiar prettiness, which made him look like Sibela's brother rather than cousin.
wore leather pants and a long-sleeved shirt that must be older than he was.
A House Party with Tureen's part one why am i saying part one it's a it's 7a and then there will be a 7b my chapters are getting longer this is how i'm dealing with it 7a every dining room is a temporary prison where politeness chains the guests to the laden board renard If you can believe it, said Daniel, former Australian soap star and current Blight-in-law, in his drawling Australian accent, this is less of a shit show than the last big Blight all-in family shindig.
He'd spoken just quietly enough that the only two people who heard, probably... were Libby and Daniel's glamorous wife, Glad.
All three of them were pressed against the corridor wall, trying not to be accidentally clubbed around the head by the flailing broomsticks wielded by Great Aunt's Batty, Birdie and Binky, a chaotic force of nature, if ever there was one.
These three old beans were dressed in all black, with literal pointy hats and rocking the classic crone aesthetic so hard that Libby would not have been surprised to learn they'd been modelling for witchmas cards since the 19th century.
He's right, said Glad in a deadpan voice, checking her eyeliner in a compact mirror, then taking a selfie with a phone that hung from a jewelled cuff on her wrist.
This was the largest quantity of blights that Libby had seen gathered in one place.
They crammed into the corridor outside the dining room like they were queuing for Selkie Whisker concert tickets.
There was no consistency at all in the choices made by this chaotic household.
Libby recognised Glad's ensemble from the last issue of Glamoured that had landed on Libby's desk while she was finalising the Blackpool Rites era of Anna Minotaur's funeral tour.
a sharper and whiter tone than her husband's natural sandy hair, and her make-up was all in silvers and pale pinks.
Further up the corridor, the triplets known as the Upper Girls Beryl, Florence, Prunella were garbed in near-identical dinner-party chic, all black silk and pearls looking somehow both timeless and terribly old-fashioned.
And most of all, like they were feeling the cold and annoyed about it, Libby had no regrets about avoiding this problem herself.
Winifred was also in black, a wide tutu skirt, striped pink and black stockings, and a short but incredibly fluffy bone-white jacket, which looked a million times warmer than whatever her elder sisters had going on.
She was chatting to Sabella, 22, and Thaddeus, 18, the babies of their respective family lines.
Sibela wore pyjama pants, a lavender flannel shirt that fell to her knees, and a shapeless grey beanie tugged over her ears.
She was still somehow even more impossibly beautiful than her second oldest cousin.
Thaddeus, who had shoulders nearly as wide as Horace's, paired with a familiar prettiness, which made him look like Sibela's brother rather than cousin.
wore leather pants and a long-sleeved shirt that must be older than he was.
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