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Chum 102: Baton
The guard runs our bags through the scanner, squinting at the monitor with an intensity usually reserved for brain surgeons or rocket scientists. I tense slightly as the machine beeps in response to something inside Jordan's bag, but the guard simply grunts and waves us through, apparently satisfied that we aren't concealing any deadly contraband.
We collect our belongings and start moving again, the crowd swallowing us up almost immediately as we're swept along in the current of bodies. Jordan is uncharacteristically silent for a few long moments, their expression unreadable.
"You knowâŚ" they say at last, their words slow and deliberate. "My mom used to talk about school being a safe space, y'know? Somewhere kids could go to learn and grow without having to worry about the weight of the entire world crashing down on their shoulders. When she wasn't begging me for cigarette money, I mean."
There's an undercurrent of something in their tone, a melancholy note that sends a pang of unexpected sympathy lancing through me. Jordan may act tough, all snark and bravado on the surface⌠but deep down, they're just a teenager. Just a kid, really â one who's been forced to grow up way too fast, same as me, albeit maybe in different ways.
"Weirdly sound advice from Mrs. Westwood," I say, folding my arms over my chest.
"I think she just wanted me to stay in school because it was free babysitting, if I'm being real," Jordan coughs out.
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Happy birthday Kim Dokja! Thank you for your story.
the text is the poem "If I Can Stop One Heart from Breaking" by Emily Dickinson
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so far the impression i have gotten is that sage is a morosexual and july is the biggest idiot she's met in years. at some point july is gonna say a pound of feathers is lighter than a pound of steel and sage is just gonna start stripping.
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3.3.1 - Inexorable Â
HAPPY PRIDE
The further we walked, the further I looked, the more the riches of the archive were compounded. Not for the sake of gold aloneâthough gold there was, and silver, and precious stonesâbut for the skill with which this silver and gold were worked, joined as they were to wood and stone and leather. Patterns began to emerge the longer We looked. Â
Weapons were few, and those which were presentâŚ
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Chapter 1.05: You Are About To Experience The Wrath of a God, Little Man
Colton straightened up and put on his best smile.Â
âI tripped,â he said, pushing himself up and away from the files heâd been hunched over. Thankfully he hadnât gone over to Oliverâs side of the desk, or the situation would be unsalvageable.
âYou tripped right into an open file? I donât think so,â Mabre said. Her tone implied that Colton was about to experience the wrath of a god if he didnât come up with a better excuse than that. Then again, maybe that was just her normal tone. Mabre was known to be intense at the best of times.
âThis office is so tiny Iâm tripping over my own feet, here. And itâs not as though thereâs any other part of the desk to grab,â Colton said, gesturing almost playfully to the deskâs cluttered surface. There wasnât a single free inch of space. âIâm lucky I didnât knock everything off of it.â Every good lie had a kernel of truth to it, and this particular kernel just happened to be that the desk looked like a tiny tornado had raced across its surface.
Colton straightened up and put on his best smile.Â
âI tripped,â he said, pushing himself up and away from the files heâd been hunched over. Thankfully he hadnât gone over to Oliverâs side of the desk, or the situation would be unsalvageable.
âYou tripped right into an open file? I donât think so,â Mabre said. Her tone implied that Colton was about to experience the wrath of a god if he didnât come up with a better excuse than that. Then again, maybe that was just her normal tone. Mabre was known to be intense at the best of times.
âThis office is so tiny Iâm tripping over my own feet, here. And itâs not as though thereâs any other part of the desk to grab,â Colton said, gesturing almost playfully to the deskâs cluttered surface. There wasnât a single free inch of space. âIâm lucky I didnât knock everything off of it.â Every good lie had a kernel of truth to it, and this particular kernel just happened to be that the desk looked like a tiny tornado had raced across its surface.
Mabre clearly wasnât buying his excuse: her posture hadnât relaxed in the slightest, and there wasnât an iota of trust in her gaze - a telltale sign of a failed con. Luckily for him this wasnât a con. He didnât need Mabre to buy into anything he was saying, he just needed to prove that there was room for doubt, and hopefully that would be enough to get him out of the mess heâd landed himself in. Multiple files were open and scattered across the desk thanks to him, and the desk had been a right mess to begin with. It wasnât as though he could change his story - that would be admitting that heâd been going through the files at all. He didnât know what sort of trouble that would land him in, but he wasnât eager to find out.
âGive me the file you were looking at,â Mabre demanded.Â
âI wasnât looking at any of them,â Colton objected, though he did move to hand her one of the files. Not the one on Miss Fortunaâs place, naturally.
âNot that one. The one closest to you,â Mabre said, sharp as ever.
âThis one?â Colton asked, as though he didnât know exactly which file she was referring to. This time he did hand over the file on Miss Fortuna, as reluctant as he was to do so.
Mabre took the file and skimmed it, frowning a little at the details.Â
âYouâre not involved in any of this,â she said. Like she was telling Colton to mind his own business and let the watch do their job. Fat chance of that.Â
âIs that supposed to be a question?â he ventured.
âItâs supposed to be an order. The watch is handling it, and even if we werenât, this isnât a job for a conman.âÂ
âIâm a detective,â Colton protested. âIâve been on the straight and narrow for ages. Donât hold my youthful indiscretions against me!âÂ
âThese cases arenât games, Colton,â Mabre said, frustrated. âItâs different than tracking down lost pets, or catching cheating spouses.â Colton opened his mouth to respond, and Mabre shut him down instantly. âNo. Shut up, listen to me. These are real crimes, and you could get hurt. Do you understand?âÂ
What a way to instantly ruin Coltonâs mood. He felt as though he were a child being scolded by a teacher, and the feeling was made doubly worse by the fact that Mabre was visibly younger than him.Â
âI wasnât even looking at that file, or any file,â he said weakly, but he could tell that Mabre didnât believe him. Not that he could pinpoint exactly why. He wished he had the opportunity to look at the file again, to see what might have made her so suspicious, but his chance had long since passed.
âFine, you werenât looking at the file,â she said, with a heavy sigh. âBut if you just so happened to see anything in it, I want you to stay out of it. Promise me youâll call the watch if anything comes up.âÂ
âAnything happens, Iâll call. I promise,â Colton lied as sincerely as he could manage. He could tell that Mabre didnât entirely believe him, but that was alright. As long as he didnât end up spending the night in a cell, a lot of things were alright.
[***]
âWhy didnât you tell me your shop got broken into!?â Colton demanded, throwing himself into the plush armchair across from Miss Fortuna. Heâd gone straight to her shop after heâd left the station, looking for answers. Thankfully she hadnât had any appointments just then.
Colton glanced around frustratedly, noticing the room for the first time while Miss Fortuna tidied up the cards sheâd strewn across the table in surprise when heâd barged in. Rich fabrics in a variety of cool colors were draped across the walls, and there was a crystal ball on the table between the two of them. A deck of cards lay carelessly off to the side, and the whole room smelled faintly of herbs, or perhaps incense. There was a large window on one side, blocked off by thick curtains.Â
âHow do you even- no, donât answer that. I clearly underestimated your detective skills,â Miss Fortuna said, frowning. âI didnât think it was necessary to tell you about it because it was such a minor incident. Just some drunken vandalism. If you hadnât noticed, my shop is near several pubs.âÂ
She was withholding information, trying to shut down Coltonâs line of questioning as quickly as possible by feigning indifference. She didnât even seem upset about the fact her shop had been vandalized. In fact, she didnât seem to feel any sort of way about it at all. It was a type of lying that would have fooled the city watch, but it wasnât good enough to fool him.Â
âWe both know it was more than that. What kind of drunk goes out of his way to find a hammer to smash the window with? The first two incidents, maybe, but not that one,â Colton said. He was frustrated, but even more than that, he was worried. Finding Miss Fortunaâs necklace wouldnât mean anything if she got attacked in her own shop and he couldnât give it back to her.
âI donât see what this has to do with finding my necklace,â Miss Fortuna said, moving to shut Colton down yet again. He saw it coming, because of course he did. He used to be a conman for goodness sake, he could pick a fellow liar out of a crowd.
âWe both know that isnât true. Whoeverâs been breaking in probably took it, and we both know it, so cut the act.â
Miss Fortunaâs frown deepened, and she almost glowered at Colton, upset that he was pushing the issue. She crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair, refusing to speak for a long moment. When she did finally open her mouth, she didnât look happy about it - but more than that, she looked tired. âDo you know how bad it looks when a fortune teller has her shop broken into? Three times in a row? Because it looks downright awful. Iâm an independent, future-seeing woman, and if it gets out that I have some sort of vandalist stalker, it could destroy my reputation. This is my livelihood, not a game. I canât afford to have someone breaking my windows and scaring away my regulars.â
She had a good point. Several good points. Enough good points that Colton wouldâve felt bad snooping around in her business if she hadnât paid him to do just that.Â
âNow that weâve got everything on the table...â he said, giving Miss Fortuna a pointed look, to which she did not respond. âMaybe we can catch this vandal and find your necklace. Two birds, and one less stone through your window.â
Miss Fortuna couldnât help but laugh at that - a bit of dark humor could do wonders - and her expression became decidedly less surly.Â
âI certainly hope youâre as good as my friend says you are,â she said, âor weâre both going to end up with rocks through our windows.â
âThat just means weâre in this together, now,â Colton said.
âI suppose we are,â she agreed, smiling wryly.
Chapter 1.04 â˘Â || ⣠Chapter 1.06
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"For the last several years, the world had been bathed in a constant, low-level reddish-orange hue..."
stardust by valentine dagger
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Art for The Day My Dream Died
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Chapter 1.01: Ten Dollars Is Worth More Than You Think
Colton startled awake at the sound of the doorbell, nearly falling out of bed. He scrambled to find his shoes and pulled on a nearby jacket that matched the cheap suit heâd slept in, hoping that it would hide how wrinkled his shirt was. Checking his pockets, he was relieved to find his glasses, and slipped them on, chancing a quick glance in the mirror. The lenses were smudged, and he could really only make out his messy, auburn hair. He ran a hand helplessly through it as he hurried downstairs. It would take a better detective than him to figure out how to make his hair lie flat.Â
The sun was shining through the windows of his little office, and he realized, belatedly, that heâd overslept. A woman was waiting outside, smoking, judging by her silhouette in the translucent glass window that was set into the top half of the door. She smiled sweetly at him when he unlocked the door, and swept inside. The beaded fringe of her dress shimmered as she walked over to help herself to the ashtray on his desk. When sheâd put out her cigarette, she turned to him and smiled again. It was odd of her to be done up in evening wear first thing in the morning, but he couldnât deny that it suited her.
âYou must be Mr. McKinley. Itâs a pleasure to meet you,â she said. âIâm-â
âMiss Fortuna,â Colton blurted out, before he could help himself. Heâd heard of her. As far as fortune tellers went in the city, she was supposed to be one of the best. And pretty, too. Her dark hair was cut stylishly short, and appeared to be naturally wavy. The mole under her left eye was dark enough to match her hair, and helped to accentuate her makeup.
âThatâs right,â Miss Fortuna said, clasping her hands together and practically beaming at him. âI heard about your services through a friend of mine. You helped them find their cat a couple of weeks back. They were so dreadfully upset when sheâd gone missing, you know.â
Right, the cat. It had taken Colton the better part of a week to find the stubborn thing, and sheâd clawed up his arms something fierce. Not a job he wouldâve liked to take, but he wasnât in a position to be picky. He was only just managing to scrape by with the odd jobs people hired him for, like tracking down lost pets and the occasional cheating spouse. It wasnât glamorous, but it paid the bills. It kept the electricity in the little apartment above his office going, and it put food on the table.
âAre you missing a pet too?â he asked, already fearing the worst. His forearms ached at the thought of tracking down another cat.
âMe? Oh no, I donât have any pets. Too much work, Iâm afraid,â she said. âBut I have lost something, and Iâm hoping you can help me find it.â
âIâll certainly try,â he said, relieved. He felt more in his element now that he knew what Miss Fortuna wanted. It was easier to deal with clients when he had a goal in mind. It helped him figure out how he ought to talk to them, and what they wanted to hear. He stepped past Miss Fortuna, heading over to his desk to sit down and rummage around in the drawers for a notepad and a pen. The drawers were disorganized and full of things heâd pocketed and forgotten. He sifted through old receipts, expired trolley tickets and unused napkins. âWhat was it that you lost, exactly?â
âA necklace,â she said, taking a seat across from him. âIt was my grandfatherâs, and I miss it dearly. I donât particularly care who took it, I just want it back.â
âYou think someone took it?â he asked, picking up his notepad and hastily scrawling down everything Miss Fortuna said.
âOh yes. Itâs very important to me,â she said. âI would never just leave it lying around somewhere.â
âDid you report it missing to the city watch? If it was stolen, they could help keep an eye out for it,â he suggested, and Miss Fortuna laughed.
âNo, darling, I didnât. It would be awfully embarrassing if word got out about this.âÂ
âWhy would it be embarrassing? People get robbed all the time,â Colton said, furrowing his eyebrows.
âPeople get robbed; fortune tellers do not. As silly as it sounds, people will believe that Iâm some sort of charlatan for not being able to mystically prevent my own robbery. Itâs bad for business, which is why Iâd like you to look into this discreetly. You can manage that, canât you?âÂ
âI- yes, I can do that.âÂ
âWonderful,â she said, smiling pleasantly.
âSo, uh, about what size is it? And does it have any distinctive features?â Colton asked, scrambling to get back on track.
âIâd say it's around ten centimeters or so,â Miss Fortuna said, approximating the size with the space between her thumb and forefinger. âItâs made of dark wood, cut in a thick, crescent shape. Thereâs a round crystal embedded into it, sort of like a marble. Itâs got some carvings on it too, but I donât know what they are. Itâs an old piece, you understand, and theyâre awfully worn out.âÂ
âWhen was the last time you remember seeing it?â
âOh, two or three days ago. I wore it when I went out with a couple of friends for a night on the town, and it was gone when I got home.â
âDo you remember where you and your friends went that night?âÂ
âNot particularly. We had a couple of drinks. Maybe more than a couple,â she said, hiding a giggle behind her hand. âAfter that we wandered around town for a few hours, and then headed back to my shop. I donât know exactly when it went missing, but it was gone the next morning.â
âDo you think one of your friends might have taken it?â
âThatâs what Iâm paying you to find out, darling.â
Colton plucked a business card off of the top of his desk and handed it to Miss Fortuna. It was a plain, barebones sort of card, with his contact information printed neatly onto the thick square of paper.
âIf you remember anything else, please give me a call,â he said. âThe more information I have to work with, the faster I can track down your necklace.â
âOf course, darling,â she said, briefly examining his business card before slipping it into her purse. âDo you mind if I ask you a few questions now?â
âFeel free,â he said.
âCan I see your hand?â she asked, extending one of her own. Colton was quick to settle one of his hands on top of her palm, and she laughed, reaching up to turn his hand upside down. âLets see here⌠Yes, I think youâll do quite nicely,â she said, humming as she traced the lines of Coltonâs palm with a manicured finger.Â
âNext time Iâll write my resume on there,â he joked.
âYou already have, darling.â She traced a long, curved line from his wrist all the way to the skin between his thumb and forefinger. âThis tells me that youâre a dependable sort, and these extra lines next to it are good luck. And youâre missing a fate line.â
âI hope thatâs not a dealbreaker.â
âQuite the opposite. It means your life and your actions are always your own. Fate has no influence over you. Thatâs a wonderful thing for a detective such as yourself,â she said, glancing up at Colton with a brief smile. He couldnât help but feel a little flattered, and he wondered if that was intentional on her part. âNow tell me, when were you born?â
âThe third of Solaris,â he said, bemused. Usually clients asked him about his background, or what hours he worked. They didnât ask to read his palm, or for his birthday - although he was glad his palm was supposedly saying good things about him.Â
âSo you were born under the Gambler. Are you a betting man, Mr. McKinley?â
âIn this line of work, I have to be,â he said with a laugh. This was easily the oddest interview heâd ever been a part of.
âGood answer,â she said, smiling. âIâm sure that confidence serves you well.âÂ
âI like to think it does,â he agreed. âIf I didnât have the confidence that I could solve my cases, I wouldnât be in business.â
âA fine point. Whatâs your rate?â
âTen dollars a day, plus expenses,â he said easily. âYou pay the first ten upfront, and the rest after I investigate your case.â He couldnât believe heâd forgotten to mention his rate earlier. Clearly he still had some waking up to do.
Miss Fortuna nodded along to his explanation, and pulled a ten dollar bill out of her purse, which was thin and beaded, and matched her dress. She folded it neatly in half and pushed it across the desk to Colton with a single, manicured finger.
Colton slipped the money into his pocket and escorted her to the door. He waited until her footsteps faded to lock it behind her, and rushed back upstairs, taking the steps two at a time, nearly tripping over his own feet. Finding Miss Fortunaâs necklace was going to be harder than finding a crooked constable on the city watch. Between the ice-cold trail and the relatively innocuous necklace, he had his work cut out for him.
|| ⣠Chapter 1.02
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We love Worm Reddit here, don't we folks
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Inspired from a couple others doing worm fashion hcs Iâll do the boys and Rachel later (maybe)
if u want to know anything about particulars lemme know :]
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Chronicles of Arla
Two women. Both with extraordinary powers. And born to be enemies. But what happens when love and lust intervenes? And what happens when deadly truths reveal themselves?
Follow Sharra and Emmarâs journey in my web serial, Chronicles of Arla. Their story begins begin in the second volume of my web serial starting at Chapter 14.
You can sign up for the newsletter to get the chapters sent to your email here:Â
Or follow along on
Scribble Hub: https://www.scribblehub.com/series/1002866/chronicles-of-arla/
Royal Road: https://www.royalroad.com/fiction/81167/chronicles-of-arla
And no, you donât have to read the entire first volume before reading this volume. Reading only the introduction and chapter 1 will be fine. If you want to know more before subscribing, my inbox is open for questions. đ
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Art for The Day My Dream Died
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Decided to try and force myself past the writer's block I appear to be suffering. I'm in the odd spot of knowing exactly what happens for the rest of the act but not knowing what the order of operations is.
Luckily, I always know Geraldine is going to put her foot in it somehow.
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A real great article about web serials just dropped. I've always been curious about the shape of the web serial world outside of the few I know and this really helps elucidate it. It also explains the pipeline that has to lead to the Korean and Japanese web fiction boom that I've also been peripherally aware of.
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