#why does imogen pause!! for so long!!! before she says things!!!!!!!
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#critteredit#criticalroleedit#imodna#imogen temult#laudna#laura bailey#marisha ray#imogen x laudna#critical role#c3#~#cr spoilers#i'm not saying ANYTHING#that's a lie: laura i'm losing my mind#why does imogen pause!! for so long!!! before she says things!!!!!!!#why does she make that face!!!!!!!!!!!#the inherent tragedy of laudna having absolutely no idea#this parallel is so direct that it's jarring and /i made the gifset/#1k
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Lenny holding onto a Wolford matchbook post Carnegie
There's so much to go through.
And she's happy to help. She promised Sally that when the time came, she'd make herself available to help out with whatever they needed.
And that just happens to be cleaning out the house.
And if going to Lenny's funeral and giving a eulogy had been desperately difficult, then this feels impossible, staring all of the things he'd accumulated in the face this way.
She finds herself in his office, covered as it is with crumpled up papers and old tchotchkes. The only photo on the shelves is an old framed shot of Kitty, smiling out from behind the glass frame.
Midge sighs heavily and gets started, trash bag in hand as she goes through papers and keepsakes.
She takes a breath about a half hour in, slumping down into Lenny's old chair, and lets herself daydream about what things might have been like under different circumstances. If they'd really tried to be more than friends. If he'd been able to kick the drugs.
She closes her eyes just for a moment, and when she opens them, her gaze lands on a little pack of matches on the desk. She lifts them and lets out a startled laugh.
Because they're a pack from the Wolford.
She shakes her head and grips them in her palm. "Fuck you, Lenny."
And when she wakes up, she yelps, looking around her quiet, dark bedroom in complete and utter panic.
"Miriam? Are you alright?" It's her father's voice from beyond the door, and when she slips out of bed and swings it open, he's looking very confused. "I heard a noise."
"What year is it?" she asks. "What day is it?"
"It's the day before Valentine's Day, and it's 1961, what-"
"Good," she snaps. "Good. That's-good. Just-good."
"You keep saying good, as if it will make you somehow calm down from the hysterics you seem to have reached," Abe points out. "Are you alright?"
"Nightmare," she explains. "A very sad nightmare." She takes a deep breath, slumping against the doorframe and closing her eyes briefly.
Abe nods, looking concerned still. "You've been having those more lately, you know."
"I know."
"Any particular reason?" he asks.
"I've always gotten nightmares when I feel stressed," she reminds him. "It's just- things have been..."
"You've been working very hard lately," Abe comments. "Landing that television show and still doing shows at clubs, taking care of the children." He pauses for a moment. "This all might be easier if you had a partner...a husband."
Midge stares at him sadly for a long time.
"Perhaps letting your mother set you up with someone new isn't a terrible idea," he continues. "It is Valentine's Day, after all."
She nods. "Yes, it is Valentine's Day. Goodnight, Papa."
He sighs heavily. "Stubborn."
"I come by it honestly," she points out, giving him a fond little smirk.
"Goodnight, Miriam."
"Goodnight, Papa."
*****
She wakes in the morning and gets ready. Her hair and makeup are perfect. He dress is a dusty rose color, and she braces herself to face another busy day, trying not to think about her nightmare.
But it's impossible. She can't stop thinking about that cluttered office or that matchbook. It stays with her throughout her day, even as she does a good job of paying attention to Susie and paying attention to Gordon and paying attention to Imogene and paying attention to her kids and to Joel.
She doesn't know why her brain is making a meal out of this. Lenny hasn't been in touch for three months, and she knows he's been out in California, gigging and probably spending time with his family.
The only promises that were made before he left were that she would work and he would try to kick the dope, and they'd parted on friendly terms, but...
But they'd parted.
If her brain is trying to remind her she misses him, it's doing a good job. Or a terrible job, depending on how you look at this.
Rare is the night where she doesn't have a gig, or kids to feed, but Joel on dad duty, and Susie has started building in two days a month where she's not working.
"Hello, Dear, you look exhausted," Rose comments, obviously getting ready to leave. "I have a dinner meeting with a client tonight, and your father is working late at the paper. Zelda made some lovely herb-crusted chicken for your father, and there's plenty left."
"Thanks, Mama," Midge grins, feeling about as tired as she looks. "I might eat some and then just- take a bath. Get some sleep."
"That's a good idea. You relax tonight, and we'll talk more in the morning," Rose promises. "Your father said he talked to you about maybe asking me to set you up."
"I'm considering it," Midge admits. "I just need a little more time to think."
Rose nods, patting her daughter's arm. "Have a good night, Miriam."
She watches her mother leave, and once the door closes, Midge takes a long look around her quiet apartment, and bursts into tears.
And it feels good to have a good, hard cry. It's hard to find time for it these days, she's almost always covered in people and always, always busy.
It takes her a little while to stop, and when she does, she decides on the bath instead of the food. She's just not hungry.
Hasn't been hungry.
She runs the water as hot as she can stand, and normally she'd pin her hair up and away from her face, but she's not in the mood tonight.
Tonight, she sits in the water, poking at soap bubbles, waiting until she's acclimated to the temperature.
Midge takes a deep breath, and sinks under.
And stays there for a long while, holding her breath, closing her eyes. Letting the world sink away, if only for a few moments.
When she comes back up, nothing is different. But she does feel a little better.
She stays in the bath for a while longer, until the water goes tepid, before getting out and draining the tub. She brushes and dries her hair. She puts her face cream on. She wraps herself in a warm robe.
Maybe she should just fucking call him. He left her his number "in case of emergencies," Lenny had stated. "In case something big comes up."
She can just imagine that conversation.
"Nothing is really wrong, but I dreamt that it was five years in the future and you died terribly, and I was helping your mother clean out your house and now I can't stop thinking about it so hi, how is California? Is your office as much of a disaster as it was in my dream? Did you hold onto a matchbook from the Wolford, by any chance?"
She dismisses the idea, makes herself a drink, thinks briefly about seeing if Joel will fuck her brains out just to feel something different, dismisses that idea too, and settles on getting drunk instead.
Three drinks in there's a knock on the door, and she wonders briefly is Joel is here to fuck her brains out so he can feel something different, but when she swings it open.
It's Lenny.
"Happy Valentine's Day," he says sheepishly, a small batch of roses in one hand.
"No vacancy," she tells him, before slamming the door in his face.
And she can hear him laughing on the other side of it, and knocking again. "Not looking for a room at the inn," he calls. "Just a quiet drink at the hotel bar."
When she opens the door again, he's grinning at her sadly.
"Roses are a very romantic flower you know," she tells him as she lets him in. "You could give a girl ideas with those. Assuming they're for me. They could be for someone else."
"They are not for someone else," he assures her, handing her the flowers. "They got a little frosty on the way over. Snowing again."
Midge nods and takes them to find a vase to put them in. "How is California?" she asks as she steps into the kitchen.
"Warm," he tells her. "Annoying. But worth it to see my kid...you look different."
"My hair is still a little damp. I washed it."
"Must be it," he concedes. "You're great on Gordon Ford, by the way. Really, Midge. I catch it every time I'm home for it. You're so fucking good."
"And I didn't even have to go on a date with you to get your opinion," she smirks as she settles the flowers into a vase and adjusts them before lifting them and moving to her bedroom. "You must be losing your touch."
Lenny follows her, concern coloring his voice. "Midge, what's wrong?"
She whirls around and looks at him in the eyes. "Why are you here? I haven't heard from you in three months, and you gave me a number that I'm only allowed to use in an emergency, meaning you didn't want me in your life, so what are you doing here now?"
"Mostly to apologize," he admits quietly, holding her gaze. "For being a fucking coward about this. About us."
"There isn't an us."
"There should have been." He takes a step towards her. "There still could be. I've been working hard to stay clean. I've been looking at apartments here in the city. I thought if you were feeling forgiving...maybe..."
Midge takes in a sharp breath and feels more tears threaten her.
And she has to wonder.
If she says no, does she start them both down the path of that awful nightmare? If she says yes, do they both avoid that fate? And is it deeply arrogant to think that her dreams have any baring on real life, or that if they do, she can enact change on them?
These are all deeply stupid questions.
She slumps down onto the edge of the bed. "I had a nightmare that you died of a drug overdose," she tells him.
Lenny freezes, tilting his head and looking confused.
"It was a terrible dream," She tells him. "And it's been following me around all day, and I think maybe I'm still mad at dream you for dying like that. Even though the real you is standing here, clearly alive."
Slowly, he regains movement and takes a seat next to her. "I'm very sorry that dream me fucked up so badly."
"I appreciate that," Midge grins a little. She sighs and reaches for his hand, threading her fingers with his. "And I am feeling forgiving."
"That's good, because I have a plan to make this up to you," Lenny tells her, snapping with his free hand. "A nice Valentine's Day dinner tomorrow night. Lindsay Trent is playing at a dance hall in Harlem after that, I thought we could go, hear some good music, catch up with the fellas, do some dancing, and then see where else the night takes us."
Midge nods. "That does sound really nice. You're lucky Susie scheduled me two nights off in a row this month. She didn't want to get me angry in case I wound up with a Valentine's Day date."
"Smart woman, that Susie," he says, stroking her fingers with his, looking down at their hands. "So? Tomorrow night?"
"You can pick me up at seven."
"I guess I should let you get some sleep then," he comments without moving.
She holds his hand harder, and he gazes at her.
"Stay with me?" Midge asks. "I know Riverside Drive isn't exactly your scene, but-"
Lenny leans in then, and presses a kiss to her temple. "I think I can manage one night without breaking out in hives."
She keeps her eyes closed, her muscles relaxing for the first time in...she doesn't even know.
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7. Rage Against the System (WODtober 2023)
Part 7 of my WODtober story. Taking the daily prompts and trying to weave a vampire story from them! In this chapter, Miro does some digging into a possible attack on the Prince himself.
Word Count: 1,000 words.
CW: Rats - that's about it.
Image found on iStock.
Find the previous chapters here!
Miro was tired. He’d spent the entire night running around the city, talking to Kindred after Kindred who had been around when Imogen’s punishment had been carried out, asking questions and putting together a picture. What he’d found out hadn’t helped much - someone had sent an anonymous tip to the Sheriff that she had the black veins of diablerie in her aura, and when the Sheriff had checked it out it had turned out to be true. Imogen had been detained, questioned - roughly - and hauled before the Prince, who presumably had used his own methods of persuasion on her. At no point did she reveal who she had diablerised. Searches had been made of the domain, every powerful and important Kindred accounted for. No one seemed to be missing - no one of consequence, at least - and there had been some talk of her being released - no victim, no crime. But of course that’s not how things work in Kindred society. The Prince had convicted her based on the marks in her aura, and that had been that. She’d disappeared into his catacombs with a stake in her chest and no one ever expected to see her again.
So now Miro had a better understanding of why she had been imprisoned, but still no clue who she had diablerised or how she had escaped. There were still a few hours til sunrise, and he was wandering back toward home wondering who else he could talk to. So with no better ideas, he bit the bullet and made a call on one of his burner phones to his one and only contact among the Prince’s security team.
Justin picked up the phone almost right away. ‘Yes?’
‘Justin, it’s Miro.’ Phone pressed to his mangled ear beneath his hood, Miro found a dark doorway to sink back into. He glanced around for passers-by, but the street was empty at this hour.
There was a long pause. ‘Yes?’ Justin said again.
‘Just wanted to pick your brains, my friend,’ Miro said, forcing a relaxed tone. ‘See, I heard a rumour, and you’re in the perfect position to confirm or deny it. And you know how I like to be right about things,so-’
‘What’s the rumour?’ Justin cut in. ‘Make it quick please, I’m kind of busy.’
‘Oh, if I’ve caught you at a bad time-’
‘Quick, I said.’
Miro chuckled. ‘Alright, fair enough.’ He paused, then said: ‘Word is someone broke into the catacombs recently. Is that true?’
Another long pause. Then: ‘First of all, the catacombs don’t exist. It’s just another stupid rumour. Secondly, if they did exist, why would anyone break in? They’re just full of dead assholes.’
Miro grinned. ‘I don’t know, maybe they want to break one of those assholes out?’
Justin sighed. ‘No,’ he replied. ‘Never happened. You hear me? Never. Happened. And if you know what’s good for your scaly ass, you’ll forget you ever heard such a rumour. Where did you hear it, anyway?’
‘You know I don’t reveal my sources,’ Miro replied. ‘That’ll include you, if there’s something you’re not telling me. Especially if it’s something that’s, say, good enough to make me forget about that little … indiscretion of yours?’
There was another long pause. ‘Fine,’ Justin replied. ‘The rumour’s good. There was a break-in, and one of the prisoners was taken. But that’s all I know. And don’t go poking into it, okay? The Prince has tripled security because of it. He’s fucking pissed.’
‘I bet he is.’ Miro chuckled. ‘One more question.’
‘What?’ Justin growled.
‘Where are the catacombs?’
‘Goodnight, M,’ Justin said flatly. ‘Don’t ever call me again.’ And the line went dead.
Miro took the phone away from his ear and looked at it disapprovingly. ‘Oh Justin,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘You really think that’s going to stop me?’ He shoved his phone into his jacket pocket and set off for home feeling much more cheerful. There was just one more thing he could do.
Ducking into an alley just around the corner from the train station, he followed it along until it took him beneath the arches of the bridge that took the trains into one side of the station. On the way he plucked a bruised apple from an open bin and stuck it into his pocket. In the inky blackness of the shadows cast by the bridge, he crouched down out of sight and let out a low, shrill whistle. A few minutes later, a small shape moved in the darkness. Bright black eyes gleamed, and a small quivering nose sniffed, taking in his scent. He dropped his hand, palm-up, to the ground, and the fat brown rat climbed into it with a low squeak.
Miro lifted the rat up until he was face to face with it. ‘Hello, friend,’ he said, contorting his voice until it was little more than grunts and squeaks. ‘I need you and your family to look for something for me. Can you do that?’
The rat blinked and lifted its snout.
‘Keep an eye out for a place where things like me are gathered in large packs,’ he said. ‘With weapons. You know what weapons are?’
The rat squeaked confirmation, its tail twitching agitatedly.
‘You don’t have to go near them, just if you see them, come let me know where they are,’ Justin went on. ‘Will you pass the message on?’
The rat squeaked again.
‘Thanks, friend,’ Miro said, smiling. He pulled the apple out of his pocket and showed it to the rat, then placed it on the ground. ‘For your help.’
With a happy squeak, the rat jumped from his hand to his knee to the ground and tucked into the apple, holding it still with its front paws as it munched on the soft fruit. Miro watched it for a second, smiling fondly, then stood up and slipped back into the shadows. Without any more delays, he made his way home to where Imogen was waiting.
#vamily#vampire the masquerade#vampire#vampirism#dark pack#world of darkness#vtm#vamptober#wodtober#wod#nosferatu#camarilla
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Senku x fem named!reader
Rating: this chapter is E for everyone though there is some strong language
Warnings: this fic has elements of smut and a mention of eating disorders THIS CHAPTER DOES NOT CONTAIN THE CONTENT WITH THESE WARNINGS.
Summary: Imogen has been awakened from petrification but she suffers from amnesia upon waking up. Senku and Taiju - her lover and childhood friend (respectively) before the petrification - must do their best to help her recall her past life.
Smut summary: soft sex, first time, no warnings but very NSFW.
Chapter Three
I walked deep into the forest, my feet getting cut up from the rocks and the branches. Eventually I stopped at a river and sat down in the sand. I didn’t notice how bad my feet got until I smelt blood. I looked down at my now red feet and frowned. Inching a bit closer to the shore I slid my legs into the water.
It stung and I hissed when I reached down to wipe the mud and dirt off.
“Damn it.” I whispered. I just let my feet float in the water and let the current wash them. I sighed and leaned back on my hands. Just my luck that the only person who knows me also holds a grudge...I laughed. How perfectly stupid.
I can’t even remember how old I am and here I am already having boy troubles.
I sighed and wiped my cheeks, they were still wet from crying.
“Fuck it.” I said to myself. “I got woken up into a future with a brand new slate. I’m 3,700 years older than I was before. I’ll just...be a new me. Forget about trying to remember who I was then.”
That was my resolve. What was the phase? New year new me?
Try new millennial, new me. I think.
I got up to go back to the village. My feet were swollen and burning but I needed to get back so tried to forget about the pain. I think I remember how to get back...it’s not too far. It’s still mid day, too. I just need to listen for the bustle of life and I’ll be fine.
I was about half way there when I get a weird feeling on the back of my neck. I stopped and rubbed my neck. The hairs were standing on end. I shivered despite the heat.
I heard a low growl come from behind me. I froze.
It hit me that this was no longer modern times and that I could be in deep trouble. I slowly turned around to see a large bear a few yards behind me. She was snarling at me but not moving.
I gulped.
A smaller cub came out from behind her. I had a feeling I walked through her home and she wasn’t happy about it.
I took a step backwards while still facing her and prayed that I didn’t look threatening enough to attack, only warn. I kept inching backwards and when she growled again I stopped for a moment.
“It’s okay...I’m leaving...please don’t hurt me.” I started to move again but my foot met resistance and I stumbled backwards. Another cub yelped and jumped out from under me as I fell to my ass.
The mom got on her hind legs and roared.
I screamed.
She started to charge and I scrambled to my feet, the adrenaline kicking in well enough to numb the swollen cuts on my feet. I ran as fast as I could but I knew in the back of my mind I wouldn’t be able to out run a bear.
I screamed for help as I ran hoping without hope that I was close enough to the village for someone to hear.
As I ran past a tree, a large figure came slamming into my side. I was scared the bear was super smart and was pummeling me to the ground but when I felt the warmth of human skin on my face as I was held tightly against the bare chest that rammed me to the ground, I realized instead that someone heard my cries. Both of us went tumbling, the man held me tightly as a hill took our momentum and made us tumble faster until we came to stop at a tree. His back took the blow and he grunted.
My head was spinning still even as we were stopped. He picked himself up, one arm still wrapped around me.
“Are you alright?” he asked, sitting on the ground.
I grabbed my head to try to make it stop spinning. “Y-yeah...maybe a little cut up.” I responded when I felt a warm trickle of blood down my cheek.
“I’m sorry,” He said. “that wasn’t a very clean save was it?”
I finally looked up into his face to see the warm red eyes of Senku in front of me.
“Senku?”
“Was getting dressed when I heard you scream. You’re not too far from the lookout. Sorry, I should’ve warned you that it’s dangerous out there. The animals are used to owning the woods.”
I swallowed to force my mouth closed as I stared at his chest. His slender frame deceived you when fully clothed. Senku was quite strong and very ripped. And I couldn’t help but a stare a little too long now that he had no shirt on.
Senku ripped off a piece of his pants and wrapped it around my head over the cut. The pain from the pressure jolted me out of my daydream.
“Sorry,” he said. “I’m not very good bedside manners.” He tied off the bandage and stood. “Can you walk?” He asked.
I looked down at my feet which were even more cut up than before. My legs were bleeding and my dress was almost in pieces.
“Damn,” Senku said before I could respond. “I really did a number on you didn’t I?” He helped me stand and swept me up in his arms without hesitation. He seemed different now, maybe not so on edge.
“I’m...sorry.” I said. “I probably shouldn’t have stormed off like that.”
“Don’t be sorry...that was just me, being an idiot again.” He said, easily finding the path to the lookout and walking it back. He set me down on one of the beds that Ruri had previously mentioned was in the small building that used as a hospital.
“Let me get something to clean up all your wounds.” He grabbed a bowl of hot water and a rag and sat down next to the bed.
“Senku?” I asked.
“Hm?” He looked up at me through his brows as he gently wiped down my legs.
“Can we start again?” I asked.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean...I can’t remember what happened 3000 years ago...but I want to know you now, here, in this place that you seem very dedicated to. And...well I want to know you the way I did back then but I want to do it differently.”
He paused for a moment to think. “Clean slate, you’re thinking?” He asked. I shook my head. He dipped the towel in the hot water again.
“The past doesn’t really matter in this world does it? You’re all just trying to survive. So I shouldn’t focus on the past especially if I can’t remember it.” I said.
“Well, there’s where you’re wrong.” He said. “When I broke free of the petrification, a made it my goal to advance society back to where it was and save all 7 billion people on the planet.” He paused to gently pull some debris out of a cut.
“That’s a very ambitious goal...”
He chuckled. “Yeah it is. And believe it or not, I’m not an idiot at science. When I got to this village it was in the Stone Age. Thanks to a lot of hard work and some very dumbed down lessons, I’ve not only gotten these people to the age of electricity, I be also helped them understand it so they can make, and explore, and do things on their own.”
“So...you’re a big nerd?” A smiled.
He let out a laugh and a flashed a contagious smile. “Yeah, I’m a very big nerd. I’m also the only person on the planet right now with the knowledge to bring the world back to where it was. I guess that’s why they insisted I stay the chief.” He got up when he finished cleaning my wounds and grabbed a large bowl of precut bandages.
Sitting back down to wrap my feet he eyed me for a minute.
I blushed. “W-what?” I asked.
He smirked. “All that talk about forgetting the past...If you don’t want to remember, I won’t tell you. But remembering the past is exactly my goal. It looks a little different for you but I would be happy to tell you everything I know about you. Taiju, too.”
“Who’s Taiju?”
“Oof. Don’t say things like that to him, you’ll hurt the brutes feelings.” He chuckled. “The guy who was with us in the tower.”
“Oh right - sorry. I knew him too?”
Senku shook his head, he was suddenly very focused on the wraps, being careful as he went along. “Yeah, we actually met because of Taiju. You knew him before you knew me.”
I was quiet so I could listen, I hoped he would continue when I didn’t respond.
“Taiju and you go way back. We were childhood friends, I knew him since kindergarten. But you and Taiju literally grew up together. Somehow I never met you though. Not until senior year anyway.”
“Senior year?”
“Oh yeah, uh, the last year you have to spend at school. Once you’re senior you can graduate and either move on to college - a more focused type of school. Or you could move on to a job, life, family, whatever the hell you want honestly. After high school, you’re considered an adult so people let you do whatever, you know?” He finished with my feet then moved to the head of the bed to work on the cut on my head.
“Anyway, Taiju introduced us at the end of junior year and we hung out a lot all the next year. I don’t know if that dumb brute was trying to set us up from the beginning but he was really smart about it; just a casual introduction and then bam, you were hanging out in our group all the time.”
I flinched when he put the hot rag to my head.
“Sorry,” he pulled back.
“No it’s okay.” I looked up at him. “Please, keep going.”
He continued cleaning my head and then cleared his throat. “Just before summer break I asked you out on a date. I hung out with you more that summer than I did with Taiju. He didn’t seem to mind though since he had his own love life he was going on and on about.” He chuckled.
“How was it? The date I mean.”
“We were both nervous as hell. I took you to a walk through tour of one of the biggest science labs in Japan.” He laughed. “Looking back on it now it probably wasn’t the greatest of first date ideas, but you didn’t seem to mind.”
I smiled.
“What else happened that year?”
“Well, summer was over and we had to go back to school.” He paused for a moment to tape a small bandage to the side of my head.
I sat up fully when he finished, carefully bringing my bandaged legs under me. He sat on the bed next to me. “I told you I couldn’t make things official yet...I was too focused on my school and I was trying to figure out where I wanted to go after graduation.” He sighed and rubbed his neck. “That was my first mistake. You understood but I could tell it was bothering you a bit. I psyched myself out because I was overthinking it. If you can’t already tell, I’m very much an idiot at matters of the heart.”
I bit my lip. “Is that...when we argued and I got mad?”
He shook his head. “I said a lot of thing I really regret. I blamed you as a distraction and I tried to push you away. I hate to admit it, but I was scared. I wanted so badly to not mess things up with you that I fucked up and messed things up anyway.” He let out a deep sigh. “Our last conversation was an argument. I said I cared more about science than I cared about you. You promptly slapped me across the face and said you’d save me some trouble and would never have to talk to me again.” I frowned. He continued, “I don’t think any harsh word ever spoken to me has hurt more than that. And it was my own fault.”
I swallowed. I felt a lump in my chest that made me want to throw my arms around him and tell him I’m sorry.
But the mental block of complete emptiness and detachment from not truly remembering this man in front of me, stopped me. I looked down at my hands. “We didn’t have a lot of time together then huh?” I asked.
“No...I didn’t see you for a whole week and then the petrification happened.”
“I uh...I still can’t remember any of it. Even though you’ve told me the majority of it.” I forced down the lump in my throat and tried not to cry again. “I wasn’t exaggerating when I said I felt empty. Hearing that story makes me really happy but...it’s like it’s literally just a story. I can’t picture any of it.”
“It’ll take time. Amnesia can only be cured by the patients willingness to remember the parts they’ve lost. The fact that you can’t remember what school is tells me that more was happening than just a little bit of love life drama. Whatever it was caused you to block out not just me, but physically every single part of school.”
“How do I find out what that was?”
“I would suggest you find Taiju. Like I said, you guys grew up together. I think you lived in Taiju’s house. I never got around to asking what happened with your family, so I can only assume that he’s the one who can tell you that part of yourself. I can go find him for you if you like?”
“Not right now please...if it’s not too much trouble, I’d really like to stay and keep talking with you.”
He smiled a bit. “I’ll go get us some dinner then. Meet me up in the tower, take your time.” He got up and left the small building, headed for the village.
I thought about the story he just told me and smiled. Butterflies erupted in my stomach again. I felt like that was proof to myself, a bit. Proof that Senku and I had something together. Proof that I...
Well, I probably shouldn’t get too caught up on that feeling.
********
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campaign 3 episode 8: loreian
I'm late bc Power Rangers The Movie and also bc I was trying to avoid whatever this is
my kid riffed "it's thursday night" into "it's thursday butts" and frankly idk why comedians are still trying, she's clearly perfected the form
chEtney
I still extremely enjoy chetney's art
"call me when you get your shit together" he was never heard from again
I'm already doing my "other people are asleep" fingersnaps
travis just made this character so he could react to laudna in-character like he does in real life
"I'm so confused!! :D"
liam's inability not to call old characters grandmother/grandfather
saM
"why are you so mean to meeeeeee"
oh no he broke travis
tonight is just 4 hours of corpsing
...no pun intended
"BALLS" my kid WOULD fit right in
"I'm dorian's friend"
mala: friends of dorian
"hi my name is chetney, I killed santa"
"not that fourth one"
oh I just processed the design on robbie's shirt, that's nice
HEY WALL
trek out to the Hubble
do not tell fearne how much money you have you will not wake up with it
mariSHA
sam
UNPROMPTED WHISPER
"essence" [kill bill sirens]
oh we're just gonna unpack this right here at the table huh
"like werthers" sam
OH
it's almost gotta be cyrus right
"maybe I could throw something at him"
"laudna's making crazy eyes at you what's she saying"
"my very good friend" gay
orym: just fuckin - just get up here
I adore travis' little elf shoes sfx
I'm love him
I've had to stop actually snapping bc I was hurting my fingers
orym: I am SHORT you KNOW I'M HERE just STOP
DM's mercy
just pictured the guy with his shoes pinned to the floor with tiny chisels
c h e t n e y
I love robbie's "stop making me acknowledge my backstory" noises
"first you had a flask now you ARE a flask"
"is your dick out?" "...I'd have to look"
HE
travis' face lmao
[shakes dorian until his backstory falls out]
"I don't trust them" SIR
I am offended on their behalf
"I believe THAT part" chetney
imogen: [nokia ringtone]
🎵 tip me over and pour me out🎵
"just because they're different doesn't make us strange" "but we are very strange"
"like a reverse baby bird" oh I hate that
HEALING POTION KEGGER
in the presence of family dorian has developed a younger sibling bitch response that I greatly enjoy
matt: zanotto
me: [psychonauts hell]
dorian you showed him it was POSSIBLE
the long pause before and after "dorian"
"escort work" can mean a couple of things lmao
"handle those swords"
"please don't tell mom and dad" "that would require me to talk to mom and dad"
cyrus what
OH I also heard it that way
travis
is it weird I would watch an entire show around cyrus' story
I want a weird west fantasy train robbery
(I want weird west fantasy everything)
good to know anxiety and social awkwardness runs in the family
orym is very disappointed in you
cyrus needs to stop calling me out as an oldest sibling
"what do you think that MEANS"
upcontinent
"""go to vasselheim"""
the mysterious npc in a flashy cloak to socially anxious disaster pipeline
ashton
oh no they're stockbrokers
no dorian you just almost put on a vestige of the fckin spider queen that's much better
"who's your employer" ashley
"are there conventions" "not lately"
BRONTE
I swear we heard that at one point in exu, am I going crazy
"b r o n t e with a [kchke]"
bronte wyvernwind!!
that's so fucking cool???
"I didn't think I'd get this far"
this sounds like some one piece shit, I'm into it
robbie's mind blowing in the background
relax she's just putting it out there
don't leave alone after dropping all that lore
death flags death flags
stop talking about how good you are at fighting
"she grows on you" "I would burn that off"
cyrus you fuckin HIMBO
if cyrus dies I riot
mattholomew
matthew
MATT
gonna fight him in the parking lot
slasher film starring chetney
reani my beloved
(no I didn't realize this had dropped)
...okay that's pretty much how the first obann fight went tho
fearne
ashley. travis. c e a s e
"it's how we met" cries
do you wanna be a big shot
"was it grog" samuel
"that'll be useful" it's ashton, will it really?
we're not telling them about the stone? we're keeping that a secret? dorian? sir?
[nextdoor voice] this information has been reported to the police
"fearne takes a bong hit out of fcg"
fearne don't be a dick
awww
fantasy xanax
oh shit I tried to come up with something like this for a setting, now I gotta file the serial numbers off
"a layer of black material" "oh, LA Square"
leeroy no
"how are we supposed to focus on anything, travis"
laudna
chetney
y'all
oh he's not getting his deposit back
"dire wolf attack" WEREWOLF
matt: werewolf
travis: :D
matt: also ghosts
travis: D:
"I put my vacuum arm on" we found it, we found the hoovel
"air d&d"
as opposed to an expected dire wolf attack?
"I cast detect thoughts" BINGO
pate no
boutta get frumpkin'd
MATTHEW
"dead in 2022!!"
for THREE WEEKS
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Steven Hall: Maxwell’s Demon
It’s an unsettling business, when you really look at it.
Unsettling to think that when we read a novel, we’re burning through years of a writer’s life in a matter of hours. Unsettling too, though in a different way, the realisation that a reader will rarely have any sense of the temporal disparity at all. From a reader’s perspective, the words invite movement across a page at an obvious pace, sometimes racing, sometimes ambling, sometimes moving with a slow, deliberate creep, and for all the world as though the writer is right there alongside the reader, that the two are in this together, tiptoeing, then sprinting, then pausing for breath at one another’s side. But none of that’s true. The truth is, it took me forty-eight minutes to get from writing the words ‘It’s an unsettling business’ to here, to build that little road with its various curves, slopes and rises. To work it over, to stamp its surface as flat as I possibly could, to do my best to ensure you wouldn’t trip or stumble along the way. How long did it take you to go from there, to there, to here?
Since I committed to reading more books a few years ago, I’ve read some outstanding work. My favorite discovery, however, is likely Steven Hall’s debut The Raw Shark Texts. It’s a literary laser-beam targeted right at me— it’s an ambitious, cerebral, maybe even somewhat pretentious horror story built around the idea of the transformative power of communication. It lives in a space adjacant to Mark Z. Danielewski’s seminal House of Leaves, and comes closer to that mark than any fiction I’ve read since. I don’t know that it’s strictly the best book I’ve read on this journey, but it’s such a big story— such a titantic swing for the fences— that I couldn’t help but fall in love with it and its warts.
So, when it came out that Hall’s second novel— this, Maxwell’s Demon— I was both excited and nervous. Nervous, because when an author succeeds with a book as high-brow and artsy as The Raw Sharks Texts, that tends to give them the license they need to turn their next work into something even more into the avant garde— and this jump is particularly difficult to do well. After all, House of Leaves was followed by Only Revolutions— despite that novel’s success, I found it so prose-y as to damage one’s ability to consume the story.
It came as quite the surprise, then, that when Maxwell’s Demon was finally in my hands it came across as much more restrained than The Raw Shark Texts.
Thomas Quinn is a writer living in a shadow. His father, Stanley, was one of the most celebrated journalists and poets of his generation. When his mother passes away, his father all-but vanishes from Thomas’s life, too— but not from the public. In fact, Stanley takes up a protégé— a fiction writer named Andrew Black who goes on to write Cupid’s Engine: in-universe, one of the most popular and world-changing novels of all time. And right there, on the cover, is the glowing accolade of Stanley Quinn.
Once Stanley passes, however, Black and Thomas strike up an unusual relationship. On one side is Black, one of the most venerated popular English novelists of all time. The literary press styles him as Stanley Quinn’s stylistic son. On the other is Stanley’s actual son, an author struggling to make ends meet. Yet, through Stanley, they are bound— one bitter of the other’s relationship, the other curious in turn. That strange partnership leads Black to send Quinn a mysterious photograph of an unsettling black orb. In investigating, Quinn starts down a rabbit hole of people who believe in a magical power of the written word— not magical in the sense that one’s eighth-grade English teacher would use it, but instead a literal supernatural force with the power to change reality.
In many ways, Maxwell’s Demon is an extension of the philosophy Hall explores in The Raw Shark Texts— the idea that humans don’t simply write down things that happen to them or wish would happen. Instead, the act of writing has a real ability to prescriptively recontextualize and alter the world around it.
If The Raw Shark Texts is that philosophy viewed through the lens of the horror genre (and particularly a House of Leaves lens), then Maxwell’s Demon is that same philosophy presented as a mystery novel (and, especially, it makes no pretense about what it owes The Da Vinci Code).
There’s a lot to like here, and once the book hits its stride you find yourself on a fun pendulum: you’re fully willing to accept a supernatural cause before Hall slowly presents evidence to walk you back to a mundane explanation, right before another shocking moment which casts the entirety of that mundane explanation into doubt— and the cycle begins again. Once we got there, I couldn’t read through the story fast enough.
There are two problems, after a fashion, with Maxwell’s Demon. I mention in the previous paragraph that the story has a good pace once it gets rolling, but it takes a while for that to happen. Relatedly, it lacks the “popcorn movie” feel that defines Dan Brown’s writing, the “pageturnability” that leads you to plow through Angels & Demons in one night. Brown is an expert at ending each chapter in a particular way to compell you to continue, to read just one more, which Maxwell’s Demon doesn’t do. This may be a deliberate choice— I’ve heard other writers refer to Brown’s technique as “cheap tricks"— but between the relatively slow build-up of the relationship between Black and Quinn and Hall’s predilection to philosophical explainers, I don’t think he quite nails the difficult highwire act between high-concept metafiction and mass-market pop culture he was shooting for.
There’s a truly startling twist ending here, and it achieves the same thing that a lot of modern mystery stories do— it’s so shocking it overpowers the part of your brain that would ordinarily realize that it makes no sense. If one were coming to Maxwell’s Demon purely as a mystery, one would find it disappointing. The careful layering of evidence and use of negative space which defined, say, Agatha Christie is absent. There’s no real plausible way to deduce what’s really going on from a plain reading of Maxwell’s Demon, and that would bother genre fans.
But, to my mind, this isn’t really a mystery story— it wears the clothing of a mystery, but those trappings are a vehicle for Hall’s metaphysics more than a sincere adoption of the genre per se. As someone who enjoys those metaphysics, I similarly enjoyed Maxwell’s Demon.
There’s a recurring theme of inadequacy in the story, and it humanizes Thomas Quinn to the point where it’s painful and upsetting to read. He holds an idealized version of himself— he is Thomas Quinn, novelist— but over the course of Maxwell’s Demon that ideal is slowly burned away. He is a man undergoing an identity crisis, and it feels so personal that a reader’s heart goes out to Quinn. He comes to realize that he is failing as a writer— on the verge of financial catastrophe. His wife is a successful scientists chasing down her dream, and he comes to realize that he is inadequate as a partner to her— that he is failing her romantically and sexually. He carries the weight of losing both parents, and of his father’s seeming discarding of him for Black. These bitter pills lead Quinn to make some very poor choices— but, with the care Hall takes in painting these inadequacies as the background for Quinn’s character, we can’t help but understand why he makes them. The outstanding humanization of Thomas Quinn, the careful characterization, is what carries the novel.
After two books, it’s fair to say that Hall has difficulty writing women. In both The Raw Shark Texts and Maxwell’s Demon, the characters have brilliant wives who work tirelessly to pull their husbands out of the mud. But they don’t necessarily have a ton of depth of their own— in the case of Maxwell’s Demon’s Imogen, her primary role is to shine so brightly that we both can’t look at her directly and cast all the darker Thomas’s shadows. She is the Guide on Thomas’s Hero’s Journey, but she does not seem to grow otherwise.
Possibly a spoiler in this next paragraph, although I’m going to endeavor to not spoil the entire mystery.
In fact, Hall’s tiny cast of women serves as an interesting literary device here. The moment the mystery ends, where the ending begins, involves the use of a "she” where we were expecting to read a “he”. Because there are so few women in the story— and every one of them is accounted for at that moment, save one— that single change of pronoun, that single added character is enough to collapse the wave function of the mystery into its only possible remaining solution.
So, all that to say: Maxwell’s Demon is more thoughtful than it is engrossing, but that thoughtfulness— the idea of writing as a literal magic— makes for a fun read.
#books#completion list#todo#review#steven hall#maxwell's demon#mystery#horror#metafiction#the quarantine list
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#8 Just a Day in the Life
100th post = returning from teeny tiny hiatus! Special thank you to my darling editor, and @ piratekingimogen for screaming about the lack of Jarogen fluff in the fandom with me!
Word count: 5,295
Characters: Jaron, Princess Amarinda, Feall (Original Character), King Oberson (Original Character), Harlowe, Imogen
Notes: Expect a few fluffy fics hurtling towards you, please consult your dentist if you develop cavities bc it’s too sweet and it happened to me. Edited
Enjoy!
Jaron drummed his fingers against his right leg.
The leg he'd broken.
Sometimes he touched it to make sure that it was still healed. Even though it had been years since he'd gotten the injury, he still had trouble realizing that he was alright.
He wasn't broken.
Lord Feall and King Oberson were seated in front of him, separated by Jaron's large desk. Both men were silent. Both were unable to look at Jaron for very long.
In a way, Jaron enjoyed watching them squirm, they'd crossed a line by not telling him about Queen Danika's missing investigators sooner.
Was this how Mott felt each time Jaron did something he wasn't supposed to and got himself caught?
"Your Majesty, we-," Oberson began, but he shook his head. "I'm sorry."
"We'll discuss the situation when the ambassador arrives," said Jaron.
However, Feall didn't agree with Jaron's declaration, it seemed. "If I must be honest, we don't even know the situation anymore."
"Lady Amarinda does, and we'll wait for her to come before we make any assumptions, Lord Feall. I'm a little disappointed, I thought we were friendly enough to discuss political matters."
Feall frowned, and didn't respond.
Boredom was turning Jaron's feet to stone. He hated being bored. There was too much to do and too much to see.
And it was raining still.
He promised Fink they'd go out and hunt for frogs to terrorize Roden with.
The door to Jaron's study creaked open, and in walked Amarinda in a wide-necked blue gown. Her hair was strung up in a golden net. There wasn't any sign of a frown on her face. She dipped her head in greeting when Jaron, Feall, and Oberson stood up.
"My lords," she smiled. "I've brought several papers with me if you'd much rather read my words rather than listen to what I have to say."
"Please, start from the beginning. Reading wastes time," Jaron waved his hand in a dismissing motion. He was joking, of course.
Oberson shrunk in his seat with his head in his hands, but aside from his posture, didn't voice any complaint about listening to Amarinda's debrief.
There were some people who could dominate their foes on the battlefield. Others could crush their enemies without shedding a drop of blood. They could outwit their opponents with words.
Amarinda was a battle master when it came to using words for weapons. She never degraded her opponents with crude words. Never compared people to dehumanizing objects. She recognized that while people didn't agree with her, they were still human beings.
This was how she guided her foes into a corner, their only option being to take her hand and join her cause.
Her goal was not to destroy. Her goal was to create, that's what Tobias claimed.
And he was right.
Amarinda created gateways for better ideals.
Jaron caught himself grinning as he prepared for what Amarinda had to say.
She clasped her hands behind her back. "Gentlemen, we share a home country. One we take pride in. We've given many privileges to those who prove themselves to be just servants of society, but unfortunately, there was an abuse of power several years ago. I know you are aware of what happened on Idunn Craich to Noble House Thay. Rumors were sparked and an entire family was executed without a proper trial.
"Though Their Majesties Queen Danika and King Norman don't condone chasing every rumor they hear, they've made an exception. They were informed that Mireldis Thay, who would've been a child during her house's execution, managed to escape into Carthya. Many of the most skilled researchers and investigators were sent to Carthya to confirm these rumors. Their goal was to find evidence supporting Thay's innocence, and bring her home.They were stopped on their way here for several days, and during that time, I was informed that you King Oberson, went out of your way to visit them without informing the Carthyan Crown that they'd arrived," Amarinda held her head high, almost challenging Oberson to deny her claims.
He didn't, not couldn't he.
Many people had seen him ride out to meet with Danika's representatives.
A heavy pause hung over the air. Both Jaron and Amarinda were waiting for either men to try to deny her claims.
When they didn't speak, Jaron nodded. It was his turn to continue the conversation.
"Lord Feall, I was told by my captain of the guard that the investigators who were sent here were, in actuality, trying to find evidence against Thay, and that you were promoting the search in defiance of Queen Danika's orders, is this true?" Jaron kept his gaze steady, looking for any flaws in Feall's face that would betray him.
Another heavy pause.
Feall didn't squirm, and he looked at Jaron with a fierce, burning loyalty in his eyes. "King Jaron, I did request that the investigators search for evidence against Thay as well."
He fell silent.
Probably waiting for Jaron to condemn him.
However, Jaron was intrigued. He appreciated Feall's honesty. It was something that didn't come often within circles of power. Jaron motioned for Feall to continue.
"I felt a duty to ensure justice," Feall remained stoic. "While I do believe that Thay is innocent, I don't agree with only playing one side. Without considering if House Thay was really guilty, it is possible that Queen Danika's quest for reparations will bring disaster upon Bymar. Thay would likely take revenge, and as a servant to my country and to yours, I will not allow that to happen."
Amarinda's face darkened, but only for a moment. If Jaron hadn't known her so well, he would've missed her momentary weakness.
Though he wanted to support his friend, Jaron couldn't deny that Feall had a perfectly good point.
People weren't black and white.
Too much mystery shrouded what happened with House Thay.
"Do you have any reason to believe that Thay would cause harm?" asked Jaron as he tapped his chin.
Perhaps he should grow a small beard. People might take him more seriously if he stroked his beard each time he was about to say something. Many regents tried to do that, usually it was right before they did their best to be an advisor to Jaron.
If you were going to act the part, you needed to look the part.
To Jaron's surprise, it was Oberson who answered the question, and not Feall. The portly king withdrew a letter from within his coat. "The seal belongs to Thay, and you- and you can read what she wrote yourself. It was sent to me, but it- but it is clearly directed at Lord Feall."
Jaron beckoned for the letter.
The words had been written in jet black ink, and the paper was much cleaner than Jaron would've expected. The curling letters obviously belonged to a woman.
Several words had been misspelled:
King Obrson, I understand you've travelled with lord Feall. you know how much he owes me, and I reqest that you give him to me. if you comply, I promise I wont bother you again. please understand my perspective on this, you know me, sir, you know my family
So, Feall did indeed have a good reason to think that Thay was guilty.
"What would you do with Thay if you found her?" Amarinda kept a calm demeanor.
"I would return her to Queen Danika," Feall explained "Unless, however, she attacks me outright. In which case I would have jurisdiction to decide her fate. An eye for an eye."
"Those laws may work in Bymar, but that's not how we do things here."
"Then, by all means, my lady, I would try to go through with Carthya's judicial process."
Unlike other countries, Jaron didn't enjoy upholding the notion that for every crime committed, you could commit the same in return. Instead, he'd tried to emulate Mendenwal's way of enforcing justice: a vote by a body of people. Typically, two options were given, usually suggested by those who'd been the victim of the crime and the other given by the king.
Death penalties for crimes had to be completely unanimous.
"Do you think that Thay is trying to attack you still?" Amarinda asked, her hands clasped behind her back once again.
Both Feall and Oberson nodded.
"Which explains why he's looking for the Faola," nodded Jaron.
"Captain Harlowe informed me that the Faola only began traipsing through Carthya a few days before King Oberson and I arrived."
"This doesn't excuse the fact that you didn't tell us that you lied to me and Lady Amarinda about Queen Danika's representatives."
"And I humbly apologize for that," Feall held his hand over his heart. "If there is a way for me to prove my regret, tell me, and I will do so."
If he and Feall had been better friends, Jaron would've made a joke about the only way to prove his loyalty was by cleaning Jaron's feet, but he doubted the offer would go over well.
Jaron looked to Amarinda, wondering if she had anything in mind.
She only frowned ever so slightly.
There were many ways that Jaron could force Feall to prove his loyalty. Cruel and humiliating ways. Feall had to have known that. He had to have known the depth of his words.
He'd quite literally given Jaron power over him.
But Jaron didn't enjoy watching people endure humiliation of any sorts. He didn't think that proving loyalty should come at the expense of anyone's dignity.
A clever idea crossed Jaron's mind.
"I'd like you to continue helping Captain Harlowe in patrolling the streets of Drylliad," began Jaron, carefully masking his cleverness. "But you must leave capturing the Faola to him, as well as my friend, Mott. You must trust us to take care of the situation, and that's how I'll know that I can continue to trust you."
Feall inhaled deeply, his brows furrowing together. "Sir, I can't, what you-. No, I mean yes. I will do as you ask, your Majesty."
"Take good care to tread lightly, Lord Feall, this test also represents King Oberson."
"What?" King Oberson burst, his chubby cheeks jiggling with his ferocious outcry. "You can't do this! I need Feall to protect me!"
"You have all of Carthya's guards to keep you safe, as well as your own," Amarinda pointed out.
Several more spluttering protests escaped through Oberson's plump mouth, but eventually, he realized that no amount of begging would get Jaron to change his mind.
A victory, in a way.
Jaron was getting another capable military leader to ensure safety in his city, he'd done his best to uphold justice, and he managed to gain a better understanding about the Thay dilemma.
Unfortunately, however, he also recognized that he probably wouldn't ever understand what happened on Idunn Craich.
But perhaps Avenia's king, Kippenger, might know a little bit.
He hadn't been to Avenia in ages, and was overdue for a visit to check in on the reforming nation. Jaron made a mental note to suggest a diplomatic mission to Sparling.
Everybody could use a little change of scenery.
"Is there anything else you'd like me to do, your majesty?" Feall asked, sitting as tall as he could in his chair.
"Yes, I'd quite like it if you gave me your desserts as well. Especially the fancier ones with the tiny decorations." Jaron frowned when Amarinda snorted, as he was being completely serious.
A tiny smile flickered across Feall's face. "If that is what you wish, your Majesty."
"It is what I wish, actually."
"Then I solemnly swear to do all that I can to ensure that your wish is fulfilled. When would you like me to begin patrolling the streets? Would you prefer me to ask Captain Harlowe my questions, or would you like me to ask you?"
Ah, Jaron hadn't thought of any questions that might need answering.
"Go to Captain Harlowe," he said. "And if Captain Harlowe can't answer them, bring your questions to me. Are we clear?”
“Yes sir.”
Several days ago, Imogen’s new lady-in-waiting, Renlyn Karise, pointed out just how bland the great hall was. Of course, Jaron had taken down and sold many decorations on purpose, but Lady Renlyn’s various attempts to sell him exquisite imported decor were slowly growing on him.
No, he needed to use the royal purse to better the lives of his subjects first.
Beautification could come later.
When he settled into his throne and allowed for his first subject to come forward, Jaron fooled himself into thinking that court would be smooth and quick.
However, as he heard his forty-ninth claim about chickens, he realized that court was going to drag on into the next decade.
It was then that Jaron began wondering if he should heed Renlyn’s advice and have her decorate the great hall.
Maybe he’d have something more interesting to look at than whitewashed stone walls.
Jaron tapped his chin as he listened to complaint after complaint after complaint. He did his best to listen. Did his best to be a good king, but his patience was running out.
“We have never had a dispute between property before,” said a man from outside the city walls. He was holding a chicken, and pointing at the other villager beside him ever so often. “Always got along, me an’ him, we never did fight. Respected his property, I did, an’ he respected mine. But one day a chicken wandered through both of our yards-”
The chicken holding villager’s friend cut in. “A chicken wandered through both a’ our yards an’ then laid an egg on the line between our two properties!”
“We didn’t really worry about it because we’ve both got our chickens. It wasn’t really worth our time.”
“And then the egg hatched, it did! An’ now we don’t know what to do wif it! It’s a good layer, we’ve been tradin’ off every couple a days, but that just doesn’t cut it! We need you to decide for us!” Finished the second villager, vehemently pointing at the chicken tucked under the first villager’s arm.
“Well, I suppose that answers an age old question. What came first, the chicken, or the egg?” Jaron mused, buying himself time through a joke.
Both villagers frowned.
By the Saints, he didn’t like explaining jokes, humor always lost when it needed to be explained.
"There's a riddle people tend to ask when they want to annoy somebody," Jaron explained, sitting forwards in his throne. "They ask what came first, the chicken? Or the egg? And in this case, it was the chicken who came first. Actually, I suppose even that chicken came from an egg. What a conundrum."
"But who gets the chicken?" Asked the second villager with a frown.
"Who cares for it more?"
Both men raised their hands, trying to jostle each other out of the way. The second villager raised his hand to smack the first villager across the back of his bald head.
The first villager only tucked the chicken into his chest and ducked.
No blows were given, the second villager wasn't stupid enough to start a fight in the throne room.
"I have a proposition," said Jaron. He knew it didn't really matter, as he was the king, but he tried to involve his subjects in decision making as much as he possibly could.
"We're listening, your Majesty." The second villager bowed until his nose brushed his boots.
On the other hand, the first villager only bowed as far as he could without risking dropping the chicken.
A slight smirk crossed Jaron's face. "How many eggs does the chicken lay each day?"
"One, like the other chickens," the second villager nodded. "I checked every morning while I housed the chicken."
"Actually she lays one egg on the first day of the week, one on the second day, but she lays two on the third day if she is fed scraps from the table instead a grain," the first villager said proudly, holding the fat hen up for everyone to see.
The hen gave a tiny cluck.
"It's worse than I thought," Jaron muttered, wishing he had Mott beside him to joke with.
"You- you haven't decided who gets the chicken?" The first villager stuttered. "But-"
"He's the king, you fool, he can take as much time as he wants."
Jaron tilted his head at the first villager, who was nervously petting the chicken he cradled.
He wanted to smile with somebody. Wanted to smile about the fact that somebody loved their chicken so much that they knew how many eggs she laid every day.
If he were a cruel king, Jaron would've called for the hen to go to the kitchens, only to declare that he wasn't being serious and give the hen back to her rightful owner.
But over time, he'd learned that some tricks and pranks weren't truly funny.
"I know what's best in this situation," Jaron declared, waving the two villagers away and motioning for the next petitioner to come forward. "The man holding the chicken the same way he'd hold his newborn son gets to give her a permanent home."
He ignored the complaints from the second villager as they were escorted out of the great hall.
The next petitioner was a young man, requesting that his father be taken out of debtor's prison. Jaron, who was prepared to fight with nobles over situations with people in debt, agreed on the premise that the young man return to inform them if there was another threat from debt-collectors.
Ah, Jaron did get quite the rise out of showing kindness when the nobles had none.
Court went much quicker after that. As he thought of the first villager happily carrying his hen home, Jaron grinned.
How somebody could love a chicken so much, he didn't know.
Late into the afternoon, Harlowe made his way into the great hall, much to Jaron's relief.
He stood and clasped Harlowe's weathered hand, unashamed of how big his smile had grown. "I'm hoping you came to relieve me of my duties."
"I have, actually," Harlowe said with a grin. "Today was much busier than anybody expected, and I didn't think it quite fair to keep you cooped up inside."
"On the contrary, I didn't mind being held up here for once. It's raining with enough fury to challenge the Devils."
"Ah, but you won't let that stop you from what you wish to do with your afternoon, I hope," chuckled Harlowe, his blue eyes sparkling with a glimmer of content.
"Absolutely not." Jaron couldn't hide his smile. "My bones are aching from sitting."
"I wish I could tell you that aching goes away, but it only gets worse. No, no, I tease."
Jaron couldn't resist. He threw his arms around Harlowe's neck in a sloppy embrace. "Thank you, thank you for coming to fill in."
Harlowe patted Jaron's shoulder. "As prime regent, it's my obligation to ensure that the king can handle his duties. And as someone who cares about you, it's my obligation to make sure you don't run yourself into the ground."
It was still odd. . .
Having multiple people care about his well being.
"I really appreciate it, Harlowe, and I mean it."
"Then go, my king." That sparkling contentment in Harlowe's eyes rivaled the lazy Roving River. "Your friends await you."
Was it wrong to take pride in what he’d managed to set up?
It had taken almost all afternoon, and required the help from not only Roden and Tobias, but from Jolly, Lady Renlyn, and Mott too.
In the end, it was perfect.
For several weeks, Jaron had been meaning to take Imogen away from the hustle and bustle of castle life. Although they weren’t in a position to leave for more than a day or two, they could manage to spare a night away from their duties.
And he’d finally done it.
“Don’t tell Imogen anything,” Jaron said firmly, trying his best to stare down Lady Renlyn Karise as they stood in one of the castle hallways.
It wasn’t easy.
Lady Renlyn was taller than him by a good inch.
“I promise I won’t tell,” Renlyn crossed her arms. “But be thankful, the queen isn’t always the type to enjoy a surprise.”
“See, people say that, but then get excited when they’re surprised.”
Renlyn only stared in response.
“Mad that I got you cornered?” No, no answer from that either. Jaron waved his hands in defeat. “You’re dismissed, I don’t need you and your disapproval.”
“Disapproval?” Renlyn arched an eyebrow.
“Yes! Disapproval, you’re not exactly subtle about it, Lady Karise.”
“Good, it means I’ve finally got my point across.”
“Aren’t you in a feisty mood today?” Jaron snickered, putting his hands on his hips.
He wasn't sure what kind of reaction he wanted from Renlyn. She was remaining completely placid. “This is how I always behave, my king.”
“Is not, you’re nicer to me.”
“On the contrary, I think I’m being nicer to you now.”
He’d known the Karises before.
From his days when his family was still alive.
Jaron hadn’t been the closest to Renlyn when they were children, it’s true. She’d rather mix various ingredients together to eliminate her least favorite dolls while Jaron would rather track dirt all over the place.
In a way, it also reflected the way they handled situations at court.
Renlyn wasn’t afraid to do what needed to be done. Already the notorious gossipers of court were spreading their opinions on Renlyn’s ambition. She had but one fear: Recognition. Most of her opponents slipped away in the night, never to disturb her again.
Jaron would much rather stay away from gossipers and the like.
Made things less messy.
Unfortunately, Jaron didn’t get his retort spoken in time, as Renlyn walked away, taking the final say with her as she went to Imogen’s study.
Their exchange couldn’t bring Jaron down from the excitement searing through his veins.
Each step he took made him feel light, yet heavy. Time couldn’t pass fast enough. He was beginning to pace. To the wall. Back to where he’d stood. To the wall again. Back to where he stood. The pattern continued for what seemed like ages, but Jaron knew better than that.
The clock stationed by the door, a huge monster of wood and metal, chimed.
It was better that a few minutes passed rather than no minutes at all, Jaron reasoned.
And then Imogen quietly stepped into the room.
Dressed in a pale blue blouse with matching split skirts, Imogen couldn’t hide her smile. For a moment, Jaron suspected that Renlyn spilled the secret surprise waiting just outside the castle walls.
He offered an arm out to Imogen, escorting her through the great hall and out into the courtyard.
“I really hope there’s no crocodiles involved,” Imogen muttered as Jaron helped her into Mystic’s saddle.
Jaron cringed as comically as he could, and then swung into place right behind Imogen. “Well, ah, guess you’re not going to like what I have in store.”
Imogen’s laugh was worth all of the hassle Jaron had put into his special surprise.
The sun was barely dipping down below the horizon, throwing golden rays of light into the crisp air. A slight shimmer appeared on Imogen’s cheeks. Jaron pressed a kiss to her temple, her hair, her chin, anywhere he could reach.
She was giggling when she pushed his face away.
“Let me kiss you, silly girl,” Jaron hummed, only to once again be pushed away.
“Absolutely not, it’s embarrassing!”
“I want the entire kingdom to know how much I love my wife! It’s not embarrassing at all!”
“Yes it is!”
“No it’s not!”
“Get your filthy lips off my hair,” Imogen laughed. “I’m serious, Jaron! You’re going to run us into a-,” suppressed giggles prevented her from finishing her sentence.
“Last one, I promise.” True to his word, Jaron pressed one last kiss to Imogen’s temple, and pulled away.
Imogen leaned back against his chest. “Renlyn and I were discussing what to do with the trio of children Roden brought to us.”
“Please tell me you gave them new names.”
“We suggested it, but they didn’t seem to catch onto the idea.”
“What did you and Lady Renlyn decide? Are you going to ship them off?”
“Quite the contrary, actually,” Imogen was smiling, Jaron could hear it in her voice. “Renlyn took the subject to a business ally she has in court, and the children are to become wards here in court. We’ll be able to keep an eye on them.”
“I do love more company, maybe those three will take the spotlight off of my antics.”
“Very unlikely, but you can always hope that’ll happen.”
“Oh Imogen of such little faith.”
“Oh Jaron of such high energy.”
With a snicker, Jaron buried his face in her hair for a moment. “Copying my words now are you?”
“I suppose I am.”
“Imitation is the highest form of flattery.”
“That’s what I’ve heard,” Imogen countered. “Do you prefer that I copy everything you say? Is that what makes you happy?”
“Is that what makes me happy? No, it doesn’t.”
“Then what does?”
“Being with you.”
A blush spread across Jaron’s face despite the fact that he was the one saying silly flowering comments, not the one they were directed at.
He loved Imogen.
She was safe.
Without the company of guards, it was much easier to have a personal conversation.
Much easier for both Jaron and Imogen to just. . . be together.
“I, ah, I confronted Feall and King Oberson,” Jaron said over the sound of Mystic’s hooves on Drylliad’s cobblestone streets.
Imogen reached back, her hand trailing down the side of his face. “And what happened?”
The simple, shy gesture left warmth careening through his toes. Jaron tightened his arms around her waist. His heart pounded through his ribcage, but not with fear.
His heart pounded with pure, sunshine comfort.
Sunshine comfort that didn’t fade away with each new morning.
“I questioned them both, and made an offer to Feall. He trusts us to take care of the Faola, and I won’t expel him back to Bymar,” said Jaron. “I, ah, I’m playing this game for the long run.”
“As you should,” Imogen gestured to a group of ducklings swimming in the Roving River, then motioned for Jaron to continue.
He shrugged, “I plan on speaking with Kippenger.”
“Regarding House Thay?”
“Yes, but also no. Kippenger is my ally despite the history between us. I want to ensure his, and Avenia’s, success. I want to know if Carthya needs to send aid in any form, and if we need to, I fully intend to send the best.”
Kippenger was a new king.
There was no doubt that there were some Avenians who disagreed on Kippenger’s right to reign.
Revolution had to be brewing on their minds.
Imogen paused, connecting what Jaron said and what he was implying. “You need a backup in case you have to send Roden and military reinforcements to Avenia.”
“I don’t want to put Mott in any more danger than he puts himself in,” Jaron muttered. “Feall’s reputation is spotless. He wouldn’t be there for very long either, maybe a few weeks. And it’s-”
“Jaron, you don’t have to explain your choices. I trust your judgement.” Imogen said, but then she tilted her head, preparing to amend her statement. “I trust your judgement when it comes to people.”
“You have no idea how much that means to me.”
Though she didn’t say anything, Jaron could feel her quiet grin radiating through the air.
They rode in silence through the woods, waving at the few people they passed, and breathing in the sunset air.
And yet, despite the comfort, Jaron couldn’t fight the anxiety gnawing at his insides any longer.
What if Imogen didn’t like what he’d set out for her?
What if-
No.
If Lady Renlyn Karise, notorious stone-faced, heartless, ambitious businesswoman, liked what had been set out, Imogen certainly would.
The road curved left. Imogen only protested slightly when Jaron guided Mystic to continue straight.
“We, ah, I’m going to dismount,” Jaron stuttered. “But you can stay on, I’ll just guide Mystic.”
“I can walk,” Imogen insisted.
“If- ah, if you want to, I won’t stop you.”
He knew she’d enjoy the surprise, and yet, he was afraid.
Afraid that she wouldn’t-
No. Imogen was his wife. There was nothing to be scared of.
Nimbly, Jaron dismounted, and held out a hand for Imogen to do the same. He held Mystic’s reins with one hand, and entwined his fingers with Imogen’s with the other.
“Your palms are sweaty, Jaron. Are you alright?”
“I dipped them in the fountain before we came, they must not have dried.”
“You’re acting a little- oh.” Her face shifted from confusion, and then to shock.
Before them, Jaron had brought a ragged quilt he’d found in Tithio, boasting squares Imogen’s mother had made herself. Large pillows were scattered about in all shapes and sizes, some hidden behind additional blankets.
Plates of food rested on curling iron stands. A bucket of ice housed two large bottles of something sweet, Jaron hadn’t been able to decide what to take, so he relied on his head chef’s opinion. Candles on holders and stands were placed in clusters in strategic positions. Crystals hung from tree branches.
“I thought about bringing music, but I could only think of Jolly, and I didn’t want him eating everything I brought,” Jaron said sheepishly. “This- this,ah, isn’t all. I have-”
“I love it, Jaron, I absolutely love it,” Imogen was quiet, her fingers steepled together and resting against her nose.
“That’s not all, I, ah, there’s more to the surprise.”
Fink’s head poked out from one of the trees, but thankfully disappeared the second Jaron frantically shooed him away.
Imogen was still marvelling at the quilt. “This is perfect.”
Once again, Fink appeared.
Changing his plan, Jaron motioned for Fink to bring the final gift. The transaction happened in the knick of time, Fink was dashing back to the castle before Imogen looked up from the quilt squares.
Jaron held the package behind his back. “I, um, I couldn’t resist. I wanted to spend time with you. Just you, Imogen.”
“I really appreciate it,” her smile was tinged with a bright pink blush. “I don’t-, I don’t really know what to say.”
“This will probably make it worse, then.”
“Jaron? What are you-?”
He held out the package for Imogen to see.
In his hands, rested a cream colored cat with a bright pink bow hanging loosely from its neck. Imogen covered her face with her arm for a moment. When she finally looked at the kitten again, she was beaming.
“You got me a kitten,” she mumbled, covering her bright pink cheeks with her hands. “Is it mine?”
“If you want it, yes. And ‘it’ is a ‘she’, if that influences what her name is going to be,” Jaron said as he sat down beside Imogen, holding the small cat out to her.
“Where did you find her?”
Jaron didn’t mean for an instant scowl to ruin his smile. “Renlyn sold it to me.”
“Ah, I think I know why,” Imogen scratched the cat’s ears. “We were discussing different royal pets. Supposedly, there are specific cats you can train to listen to you.”
“I’m not quite sure how true that is, especially coming from Renlyn.”
“We’ll just have to find out.”
The tiny cat mewed, and tried to climb up Imogen’s blouse sleeve. She untied the ribbon, cradling the cat to herself.
Nothing in the world could’ve made Jaron feel the same way that Imogen’s smile did.
#okay I love jarogen don't yell at me#prince jaron#imogen#some people don't ship them and I don't blame them but that means its my duty to convince them that theyre wrong#the ascendance series#the ascendance trilogy#the false prince#fic friday#fic Friday except its a sunday
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Tephra 02
Hello! Here’s the next thrilling instalment, hope you enjoy the banter as much as I do! :)
POV: YN
Warnings: None this chapter, mostly intro stuff
Word Count: 2.2K
Rating: PG
Master List
Tephra 02
When Imogen told you Prince Namjoon of Atlas had been searching for you in the mage courses by name, you nearly spit out your drink. It's not like you had forgotten about him or anything. Who could forget dimples like that? I mean, really. It was more like you didn't typically associate with people from any of the four kingdoms outside the Min family.
"What do you think he wants?" Imogen asked you over dinner.
"Who knows, it's not like I'm anything special." You grumbled, finishing off the food on your plate.
"You're kidding, right? Did you forget you're the youngest addition to the Academy's guard ever?" Imogen scoffed.
"You should stop bringing that up. The last formal training I had was when I was ten. The fact that anyone thinks I'm qualified is embarrassing." You rolled your eyes.
"So what is all my night time training to you? Chopped liver?" Imogen smiled as she spoke, spinning her fork around in the air. "Besides, who's embarrassed?"
"All of the old cranky ass guards who worked for years to hone their magical skills to defend the Academy from the invisible powers that threaten us all." You said in a mocking spooky tone.
"You're not wrong. Did you see General Karp's face when Lady Cecilia offered to promote you to Captain of the Evening Forces?" Imogen let out a roaring laugh at her memory.
"I'm still saying it had to be a prank. The Headmistress is an air mage by nature. Seriously, we're always out on night rounds. Just because I've caught a few shady individuals lurking around the gate doesn't mean I need to be in charge of my own task force." You poked your fork at your tablemate as you tried to make a point.
"I don't think she was kidding. You're a great mage, YN, and you lead your peers with this weird calm I've only ever seen in TV dramas. Your skills were obvious last month."
"Are you talking about that landslide again?" You asked, exasperated, deciding not to pick fun at her terrible choice in behavioral reference. "For the last time, we didn't do anything special. The royal family of Atlas and friends already had over half the trench built by the time we got there."
"You're right, but there's no way they would have been able to hold that line alone. They also didn't think to make it deeper while it was filling up, did they? That was all you and Tessa." Imogen stated, looking snarky as she sipped on her tea.
"See, the key there is Tessa. You really think I could have blown that much earth around without focusing on projectile boulders if she and the others hadn't been there." You argued back.
"I do. Even then, you proved my point. Teamwork, you got the stuff of leaders, kid." Then she paused. "Wait, YN."
"What?" You looked up at Imogen, concerned with her tone.
"Prince Namjoon mentioned in his report of the situation that he had narrowly escaped a flying boulder!"
"Yea, and?" You pressed her, trying to find out what Imogen was so excited about.
"Was that you or Tessa?" She asked, nearly bouncing in her seat.
"So what if it was me?"
"YN! He's been out looking for you for over a month! What if he feels indebted to you and wants to make you an offer?!" Imogen leaped up out of her seat, slamming her hands on the table. "Something to repay that debt, the people of Atlas hate debt!"
"Don't most people hate debt?" You deadpanned. "Would you stop with the wild fantasies? You're supposed to be my guardian."
"Exactly, I'm your guardian. I told your parents I'd take care of you, and if that means marrying you off to a prince of Atlas, then so be it!" Imogen's voice grew in enthusiasm as she pressed on.
"There are so many reasons why that's not going to work, and you know it. Did my folks know you were clinically insane before they put me in your care? Does the Academy know one of their professors is straight out of the looney bin?" You asked, trying to hide the amusement in your voice.
"Nope, nobody knows I've escaped." Imogen winked. "You're not going to tell on me, are you?"
"Not until I've graduated, I still need that free tuition." You replied, holding in a laugh.
"Is that all I am to you? A ticket to free education!" Imogen put a hand to her chest and feigned hurt as she flopped back in her chair.
"That and my pseudo-mom."
"You're not allowed to get sentimental with me after being rude." Imogen snapped at the comment, a gentle smile on her face.
"Whatever you say." You rolled your eyes and collected your empty plates from the table.
"So, what do you want me to do about the prince?" Imogen asked. "I can only deflect his questions for so long before he sends someone more powerful digging around."
"I don't know." You tipped your head as you put the dishes in the sink. "Find out what he wants first, I guess."
"That I can do," Imogen exclaimed.
---
The school had a strict curfew. It was how they ensured nobody knew about your class and the inner workings of the Academy. Technically, Spiros was a refugee city, despite it's long, illustrious history.
As the story goes, Neith the Great Mother descended from the heavens adapting to the life of human's already present on Sias. Those born of her newfound flesh and blood were known as The Children, and together they shared their knowledge and godlike powers with humanity. As time went on, The Children grew in strength and popularity, each now a god in their own right. With power came struggle, and when they fought, so did the humans who followed them.
The conflict immediately led to a hundred-year war, resulting in the fracturing of the continent and its people. To keep the peace, Neith separated those with magic into four territories and left her home open to all seeking refuge from her children and those who sought to harm them for their perceived powerlessness.
In the years of peace that followed, the Academy was built to educate those who resided in Spiros safely. They brought in people from all walks of life and the different territories to balance out the curriculum. This angered one of The Children, the daughter Opis who with the help o hr followers sought revenge. During the ensuing battle, Neith perished, the four kingdoms established themselves as they are now, and Spiros was taken and divided into sections to be jointly ruled and controlled.
One could say that for the past four hundred years since the end of the original conflict, all the four Kingdoms had fought for was a place to dump the underprivileged, unwanted, and their country's political adversaries. As such, over the years Spiros had developed into an eclectic city, one that you'd always really enjoyed visiting so it wasn’t so bad living here. It was a place heavy in multiple cultures, lifestyles, and most importantly the food.
Your parents had been sure to teach you all about the world when you were little. Spiros, in particular, had always made your dad smile. He had explained to you that nearly eighty years ago, the Adyan Empire was trusted with the duty to appoint a new Headmistress for the Academy. Fortunately, the Royal Min family chose a bishop from The Church of Shango. She was a kind and thoughtful woman who prioritized her students' wellbeing and growth before all else. Not only that, but because of the Adyan Empire's ongoing situation, the Academy's top brass bent the rules to accommodate the common folk of Spiros.
As stated in the peace treaty, refugees and those exiled were not to participate in the use and learning of magic of any kind. You had been told by Imogen years back that the Academy read the laws and decided it didn't mean the children of those who had been exiled, since they were technically born as people of Spiros, instead of refugees of another country. For that reason, the Headmistress decided to educate the commonwealth, leaving magic training until the students of Spiros could be protected by the cover of darkness and away from prying eyes.
When the time came to appoint a new Head, the Arabeillan Alliance chose Lady Cecilia. Not only had she figured out what the previous Headmistress had started all on her own, she found it so delightfully tricky that learning was allowed to continue uninhibited. She also did her best to make sure Spiros students were as trained in magic and combat arts as those from the four nations.
The air mages had always freaked you out. On top of never being able to see their attacks coming, they were capable of a host of inhumane magic that you had to trust they didn't use out of sheer benevolence. For that reason alone, you had joined the guard when Lady Cecilia told you to. Aside from Cecilia's wickedly psychic abilities and her probably having a reason for instating you, you didn't want the air ripped out of your lungs anytime soon, which is precisely how you found yourself here this evening. Staring at the gate, wondering why being on guard duty was so sought after.
Seriously, you could be in class learning, but no; According to Lady Cecilia, there wasn't anything more for you to learn in the courses here. Since you couldn't get her to explain what she meant by that, you did as you were told and stood there. Technically it could be worse; the job could be exciting, which just meant it was unnecessarily dangerous, and you didn't need that, not when there were still things you needed to do.
With curfew having started only a moment ago, you waited in silence, watching the sunset. It was that perfect time of the year where you got a show of sherbet skies just as your shift started. It was excellent and made up for the monotony of your guard duties. Though maybe you shouldn't have been so concentrated on the sky since the door was now slowly creaking open, and you were not ready.
"Halt!" You projected, "Who goes there?"
"Who goes there? What is this? A bad period movie?" You recognize that voice.
"Yoongi, seriously, what are you doing using the main door? There are much better ways to find me, yanno?" You sighed as your friend stepped towards you.
"Oh, I know, but he doesn't." Yoongi gestured to the man now standing behind him. "This the one you're looking for?"
Even though there wasn't a verbal answer, you'd recognize those dimples anywhere. "Long time no see Namjoon."
"Interesting," Yoogi remarked.
"What, he didn't like 'Your Princeliness.'" You shrugged as you relaxed back into your position. "I'm just following orders."
"If you say so." Yoongi snickered as he turned to the second prince of Atlus. "Welp, she's all yours. I'm off."
"You're not going to stay?" Najoon asked.
"No, why? Do I need to?" Yoongi quirked an eyebrow as he crossed his arms.
"No! I just- how am I supposed to get back without getting caught?" Namjoon continued his questioning.
"That's my job now, dear. Unless you've got a problem with that?" You wondered aloud.
"No! Gods, why are you both so infuriating. You're clearly capable. I was just curious." Namjoon sighed as he rubbed the wrinkles out of his forehead.
You stifled a laugh as you watched Namjoon work through his frustration. Once it was clear Yoongi had left, you turned your attention away from the door and out towards the town. "So, what can I do for you?"
"I uh, I wanted to say thank you." Namjoon bowed politely to you.
"You've been looking for me for this long just to say thank you?" You quirked an eyebrow.
"You knew I was looking for you?" Namjoon questioned back.
"Not really, just a hunch." You shrugged, trying not to give yourself away. "Yoongi did bring you here, which means you had to be visibly struggling for quite a while."
"That's a fair observation." Namjoon straightened himself out. "How do you know Yoongi, if you don't mind me asking?"
"We're related." You responded.
"That's a terrible joke." Namjoon sighed. "I should not have asked."
"So now that you've asked your more formal question, what do you really want?" You quirked an eyebrow.
"I'm honestly not sure?" Namjoon responded, relaxing against the looming stone wall behind him.
"That's a terrible reason to break curfew and seek out a stranger." You chuckled.
"It is, isn't it?" Namjoon laughed alongside you. "I think I wanted to be friends?"
"You think?" You raised your eyebrows, intrigued. "I'll have you know I'm a great friend. There's not much to think about."
"You shouldn't wink. It's creepy." Namjoon's lips twitched up in amusement.
"Oh? What's this now?" You leaned forward, meeting Namjoon's gaze. "I know nobody in the capital taught you to talk like that."
"You'll find that I'm very well-read." Namjoon puffed out his chest as he boasted.
"Oh my gods, you do need friends." You laughed out loud, not hiding the smile on your face. "Answer me this, though, why me."
"Why not you?" at that, you stuck out your hand.
"Touché"
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you don’t belong here
word count: 2158
part 2
The room went silent when Imogen’s eyes locked on mine– or maybe I just stopped processing sounds. Shock had emptied my lungs like a knee to the chest. There wasn’t enough air in the whole room for me to draw breath as her gaze scraped across my body.
(The once-over was familiar: she was searching me for injuries. She had done so many times before, with frustration and fondness mixed on her face. This time, the fondness was gone.)
The corners of her lips twisted downward. “King Jaron.”
“That’s him?” asked a gray-haired woman beside her.
“Oh, it’s him. I would recognize that face anywhere.”
I finally found my voice. “Imogen, what are you doing here?”
“If His Highness addresses me by any name other than ‘king’, you may run him through, Malina,” she told the woman beside her. Roden snickered. Imogen’s icy gaze jumped to him and the sound died. “The same applies to our other prisoner.” Gregor cleared his throat softly and her fingers closed around the hilt of the sword at her hip. “All of our prisoners, in fact,” she said impatiently, rounding on Gregor. “Captain, do you have something valuable to say for once or are you just testing my patience? I warn you, it’s short.”
Wait. Gregor was a prisoner too. Which meant, not necessarily a traitor. Which meant, I thought, my heart lifting, a potential ally. But he had made himself cozy with the pirates, to the point of roaming freely– unless his hands weren’t just folded respectfully behind his back, but tied. Why was he even here? His lips tightened at Imogen’s sharp tone. The sight was absurd, and almost, almost funny. Gregor, captain of the guard of Carthya, ducking his head in reluctant deference to Imogen. King of the pirates. This couldn’t be real.
“My king,” he said. “The conditions may have changed, I admit. But I beg you to remain open for negotiation.” What had he offered her? What did Imogen even want? My head ached. Oh, the devils were having their fun with me now.
“I could just kill him now,” the gray-haired pirate offered, with a sharp-toothed smile. Gregor blanched. “Make a nice little example.”
“Kill them both,” Roden suggested.
“The pirates swore to kill the king of Carthya,” said a second pirate. “It’s a matter of honor.”
“A matter of Devlin’s honor,” Malina said. “Do you want to go take it up with him?”
“Devlin’s honor is all of our honor,” Roden shot back, rising onto his knees. His chains pulled him back.
“Remember your position, mutineer,” Malina said.
“My king,” Gregor said desperately, raising his voice over the quarrel. “If you let me send word to Drylliad–”
“Everyone shut up!” Imogen’s eyes blazed. The noise died immediately. She squared her shoulders. “Take the captain to the root cellar and lock up the mutineer with Erick and his boy. In thirty seconds, King Jaron should be the only one in this cell beside me.”
I wasn’t at all sure I wanted that. Roden’s chains were rapidly unlocked. “Maybe Gregor should stay,” I suggested, my voice high-pitched. I would take any chance of an alliance now.
“Coward!” Roden spat on the ground as he was dragged out, earning him a kick in the calves.
I grimaced. “As it sounds like you’ve already started negotiations– guh–” The tip of Malina’s sword pressed against my throat and I choked on my words.
“Address her as king.”
“Malina. Out,” Imogen ordered. As a pirate caught Gregor’s elbow and spun him toward the door, my suspicions were confirmed: his hands were tied behind his back with knotted rope. Malina sheathed her sword, bowed, and exited. The door clanged shut behind her. The sound echoed through the suddenly quiet cell.
I didn’t trust myself to speak. I pulled myself upright, now that there was no threat of attack from Roden. The rusting chains pulled at my wrists as I folded my hands in my lap. Imogen stood motionless, with light from the barred window catching in the uneven strands of hair that drifted around her chin. A dozen emotions churned in my gut– fear, confusion, fading shock, rising anger. This wasn’t the same Imogen I thought I knew, I reminded myself. I had to tread carefully.
But my sense of self-preservation buckled under the growing weight of my anger, and I had never been as good as Imogen at holding my tongue. “I don’t understand what’s going on,” I said, striving to keep my tone even. “What are you doing here?”
She didn’t answer.
“How long have you been working for the pirates? While you lived in the palace? While we were in Farthenwood?”
She tipped her chin up, expression inscrutable. “Why do you care?”
“Are you kidding?” I rattled my manacles. “Because I want to know if you decided to join the pirates despite finding out they wanted to kill me, or because of it.”
“There you go,” she said. “This isn’t about you. I was trying to get away from you. I thought, surely, this is the one place he wouldn’t be stupid enough to come.” She couldn’t hide the venom in her last words. True or not, the words were meant to hurt, and they did. But the spark of anger in her voice brought a vicious sort of relief. Anger, at least, I could understand.
“And the whole assassination thing didn’t give you pause?” I demanded.
“Why would it?” she said. Her knuckles were white on the hilt of her sword. (Her earlier threats still rang in my ears. I had a vivid image of myself, pinned to the wall like a skewered moth, with blood spreading through my tunic. I needed to tread carefully.) “Because we’re friends? Because you care about me, and want me around? Oh. Wait. No, I think you had something to say about that last time we saw each other.”
I felt a stab of guilt as I remembered what I had said to convince her to leave the castle. It had been for her protection. I resented her bringing it up now, trying to distract me from the matter at hand, reminding me of something I would much rather forget. I had said some cruel things, I knew. But that was a far cry from siding with assassins. “You know I didn’t mean that.”
“On the contrary,” she said coldly, “you were very convincing.”
“So this is about me,” I said, narrowing my eyes.
“You’re not listening to me!” Her bracelets glittered and clinked as she jabbed an accusatory finger towards me. (I had never seen her wear jewelry before. I had tried to give her a necklace, once, soon after she came to court. She refused it.) “You can’t think about other people for one second. It’s all what does this mean for you, how will this help you win, how are you going to show off how clever and brave you are while everyone else is just– just swept into the corner to collect cobwebs.”
“I did it to protect you,” I said. “I thought Roden would target you next.”
“Why would he do that? He knew I could gut him like a fish!”
“Well, I didn’t know that!” We were both too loud now. Imogen’s sword was out, the tip weaving to punctuate her words, while I strained against my chains. My guilt was becoming harder and harder to ignore. (She knew me too well. If she saw a flicker of regret, she would pounce.) “Since you never saw it fit to tell me you were a master swordsman.”
“Do you really want to make this about things we didn’t tell each other?” she snapped. “Face it. You refuse to trust people that you claim to care for, you would rather be cruel than vulnerable, and it’s finally come back to bite you.”
My cheeks flushed. “I’m sorry. Is that what you want to hear?” I snapped. “I was stupid, and I shouldn’t have said those things, and I’m sorry.”
“Except you’re only sorry because it got you into trouble,” she said.
“What do you want me to say? And don’t you try to take the moral high ground while you have me chained up with a sword at my throat!”
“I’m not going to attack an unarmed child.”
I couldn’t let the insult slide. “You realize that you’re a child, too.”
“I am a king,” she hissed. “And unlike you, I earned my crown.”
“I have done everything–”
“Look at you,” she said. “You ran away from Carthya. You deceived your regents. What if you had found Devlin, and he recognized you? He would have tortured you until you gave up every secret you knew, and then killed you. You are a danger to your country and to yourself.” Her words hit like physical blows, leaving me gasping. My eyes burned.
“Enough.”
“I’m not done,” she snarled. “You risk your life on idiotic schemes and you make enemies of your only friends. Because we were friends. Whatever you say, we were friends, and I cared for you, and when you sent me away it hurt like you had carved my chest open, and I hated you. And the only way I thought I would find any peace was to get away from you, and then here you came.”
“Imogen, enough!”
“I told you not to call me that!”
“Or what?” My chest heaved. “You’ll kill me? Do it. If my life is really so worthless.” In instant, her sword swung up, poised over my pounding pulse. I lifted my chin, bracing myself for a biting pain. Her brow was knotted, her shirt soaked with sweat. Her sword hand shook.
Then she lowered her blade, stepping back. “You just don’t understand.” Step, step– she retreated, shaking her head. “You can’t understand the position you’ve put me in.” Step, step– her back hit the opposite wall and she slid down until she was sitting, her cutlass clattering to the ground beside her. Her expression was suddenly, unbearably weary.
The fire had died in both of us. “Tell me,” I said softly.
“I can’t.”
Neither one of us spoke for some time. I had the strangest feeling of seeing her for the first time. Her cheek bore the shadow of a bruise. Damp strands of hair clung to her neck, twisting like roots. I imagined brushing it back, tucking it behind her ear.
“I don’t suppose you could let me go,” I said. “I won’t come back.”
She shook her head. “Too many of my pirates see your life as a blight on their honor– the one mark that Devlin couldn’t kill. I wouldn’t survive another mutiny– and for Carthya’s sake and mine, I need to remain king.”
“I understand.”
She stood. “Well, I think I know what has to be done.” I took some consolation in her pained expression: she didn’t seem to take pleasure in the thought of my impending death.
“Where are you going?”
“I need to talk to my first mate, and Gregor. See if they can change my mind.”
My heart caught in my throat. “And if not?”
She had the grace to meet my eye. “I’m sorry it ended up like this.”
***
She returned late that night, or maybe early the next morning. I would never be sure which. Her expression was tight, pained. I didn’t need to ask if there was good news. She knelt in front of me, holding a mug of some dark liquid.
“Would you die for Carthya?” she asked.
“If I have to.”
She held out the mug. “I thought… this would be gentler than a sword.”
I caught a bitter whiff as I took it. Poisoned. Ironic that, in the end, I would die the same way as the rest of my family. What would Darius have thought of this? Would he have done the same? No, I knew– he wouldn’t have come here.
“Are you ready to hear my last words? I spent a long time thinking of them,” I said conversationally, swirling the mug.
“Oh?”
“‘Better to die a king than to live a coward’,” I said, and took a gulp of the poisoned drink.
“Hmm. I was hoping there would be an apology in there somewhere,” she said. I opened my mouth to respond, but she pressed a finger to my lips. “No, those were good. Don’t ruin your last words.” My fingertips were turning cold. I took another sip. “Listen, we both did what we thought we had to. Don’t look back. I won’t.”
My hands were numb, and my head felt like it had been stuffed with cotton. “I really am sorry for what I said,” I mumbled. I took one more sip, then tried to set the mug down gently. It slipped from my grasp, spilling across the packed earth floor. A moment later, I slid to the ground beside it.
taglist: @ascendancejaron
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High Society (Chapter 5)
Tags: @imarypayne @sunshine112 @sleepwalkingdragon @supernatural-girl97 @vibhati123 @butithasntkilledyouyet @faefictions @carisi-sonny @trap-house-homiecide @shamelessbookaddict @tommydaspidey @oneblckcoffee
Warnings: Mentions of murder, language warning, mentions of struggles with sexuality (If you struggle with anything mentioned in my writing, my messages are always open :).)
~~~Monday 15th October 2018~~~
"So I heard Imogen really likes Harrison," Zendaya begins to explain to the small huddle of you, her and Noah that had formed in the class.
"But didn't you hear Sam arguing with her a couple of days ago?" Noah comments, "I heard them talking when I came out of gym class,"
"Why would they have anything to argue about?" Z rolls her eyes, "Thoughts, (Y/N)?"
You weren't really thinking too much about their conversation, too busy in your own head.
"(Y/N)," Noah repeats, making you snap back to the situation.
"Oh, sorry, I was miles away," You shake your head, "What were we talking about?"
"Is everything okay?" Z frowns, clearly forgetting all about the topic that had previously been her focus.
"Yeah, just a long weekend," You sigh, dragging a hand through your hair, "Have you guys done much for that project yet?"
"The whole 'discovering ourselves' one?" Noah groans, "Give me a break! What do I really have to say for that?"
"I don't know," You comment, still absent as your eyes were now trailing to where Tom sat in deep conversation with Harrison, "I think we've all got things that we hide,"
"Like what? I once fell down from a tree because I thought I could fly!" Noah scoffs, flopping down in his chair.
The pair now begin to chatter with nostalgia at stories from their past and you take that as your chance to tune out from their voices once more. There were words being exchanged outside of the classroom that seemed more interesting as voices began to be rise.
"Imogen!" You hear Sam yell before the young woman hurries into the class like nothing had happened.
When the Holland twin trails behind, you've never seen someone look so stressed. His hair was disheveled from how many times his hand had been pulled through it and his eyes were frantic just like the tone of his voice.
"Hey gorgeous!" Imogen winks, flicking her hair over her shoulder as she sits herself down beside Harrison.
"Everything okay buddy?" Harrison frowns, glancing up to Sam who was still stood frozen in front of the pair.
"Yeah, I'm fine," He mumbles, his gaze lingering on Imogen for just a moment before he sat down beside his twin.
Everyone watches as they engage in a conversation that is inaudible to everyone else's awaiting ears.
"Imogen, honey," Lily pipes up, "Don't embarrass yourself, you're practically hanging onto Haz,"
You can't help but outwardly laugh at the comment and you've never seen someone's head snap round so fast.
"Oh, come on," You laugh, not at all phased by them, "You spend every day here hooked onto Tom's neck like he'll run away if there's more than a centimetre between you. And, if I'm honest, I don't think anyone would blame him if he did run,"
The look on her face is now one of thunderous anger. Her eyes dart around to her peers to look for someone that will defend her. And they fall on Tom who manages to stifle a laugh, with the shadow of a smirk on his face.
"Are you going to let her get away with that Tommy?" She scoffs, blushing underneath her pink-tinted cheeks.
He doesn't reply, simply shrugs and raises his hands in a symbol of avoidance to the situation.
"Imogen?!" Lily exclaims, clearly on her last hope now.
When her 'best friend' ignores her too, she takes the route of storming out of the class. Maturity at its finest.
"Thanks (Y/N)," Imogen laughs, "Maybe there's more to you than we first thought,"
"I didn't really do it with you at the forefront of my mind," You roll your eyes, "But thanks for the approval,"
You see that Tom's eyes are still on you and that he's trying to stop himself from beaming with a boyish grin at your antics. You flick your eyebrows up for a second and don't break eye contact. But he doesn't either. So, for a long lasting moment, you're just looking at each other across the classroom like nobody else existed.
When the lesson eventually starts, you're thankful that it doesn't drag for too long. And, soon enough, you're leaving for your gym class.
"Hey," Tom starts, he'd been waiting outside of the classroom for you, "Can I walk to class with you?"
"It's a free country," You shrug, walking alongside him towards your locker.
"So, here's the thing," He sighs, "My mum and dad obviously saw you there at my house when..." His voice trails off, "Anyway, they've invited you to come to dinner. My dad said that's not the impression someone should have of our family and he wants to rectify it or whatever,"
"You want me to come for dinner?" You scoff, reaching your locker and unlocking it.
"I know it's not great timing and everything-"
"Since I haven't actually been speaking to you since last week," You laugh, "And now you need a favour?"
"Come on," He groans, "It's tonight and I could really do with you helping me out,"
You pause to think about it for just a moment, "Okay, I'll come. But just because I need to get out of the house for a night,"
He doesn't pry, he's just thankful that you're coming, "Okay, thank you! I'll meet you at the end of the day and you can come home with me,"
"Sounds good," You nod, "I'll see you later, Thomas,"
He finds himself smiling because you had gone back to refusing to call him Tom. You'd become the only person he would accept that name from.
~~~
Sure enough, Tom is waiting at your locker and his eyes brighten when he sees you walk down.
"Finally," He rolls his eyes, taking your bag for you when you get it out of your locker.
"Stop doing that," You groan, taking it back from him, "No need to be chivalrous,"
"I do it all the time, actually," He points out, "I still offer to carry Harry's or Sam's,"
You laugh because he was clearly joking and soon you've met up with the twins to head to Tom's car. Something about Sam still seemed off, however.
~~~
His house still overwhelmed you as you all walked towards the doors. Mr and Mrs Holland are there to greet you straight away.
"Mum, Dad, this is (Y/N)," Tom smiles as you step through to the lobby of the house.
"It's lovely to properly meet you!" His mum beams, giving you a hug as introduction.
"Dinner is almost ready, please, come through and take a seat," His dad comments and you're all led through to the dining room.
Mr Holland sits on one end of the table with his wife on the opposite end. Sam, Harry and Paddy take the three seats to one side and you and Tom sit opposite them.
"So how has school been going, (Y/N)?" Mrs Holland begins as you are all served your dinner.
"Really good thank you, I'm really grateful for the opportunity so I'm just trying to make the most of it all," You smile politely, glancing down at the posh meal in front of you. It was unlike any food you'd ever seen, and it looked far too delicate to eat.
"And you two have been together for how long?" His dad gestures between the two of you, taking a large gulp of the red wine in front of him.
Before you can answer, Tom is quick to interject, "We're just taking things slow. Nothing official," He nods, hoping that it would be enough to deter his father's focus.
"Take note boys," His dad laughs to his twin sons, "Come on Sam, when was the last time you ever had a girlfriend? I don't even think you've ever had one. What's wrong with him?"
"There's nothing wrong with that Dad," Harry is quick to comment.
Before Mr Holland can complete his sentence, Sam drops his cutlery to the china plate and stands up. He leaves quickly and is only heard again when the slam of his bedroom door can be heard.
"Teenagers," Mrs Holland chuckles, trying to avoid this awkwardness increasing, "(Y/N), do you have any siblings?"
"No, it's just me. My Dad's adopted me when I was a baby and they've been my parents ever since," You smile, trying to not be shaken by the ongoings of this dinner.
Tom's parents continue a chatter about their 'acceptance of gay adoption' and it was a conversation you hated hearing. It was as though people needed to give you confirmation that they were accepting of your situation, like you needed their approval.
"Would you please excuse me? I need to use the bathroom," You ask politely, setting down your cutlery on the plate.
"I'll show you where it is," Tom nods and you both stand up, you following him away from the table.
It is only when you are far away that he begins to speak once more.
"I'm so so sorry," He sighs, "I feel like I've just dragged you into hell and I-"
"Hey," You stop him, "It's okay, don't worry about it. I'm just glad I'm not at home,"
"Is everything okay with that? Do you want to talk about it?"
"My dads sort of have a problem with Imogen's mum. Apparently her mum stole some money from my Dad when he used to work for her. And now they think there's a problem with me being at school with her, saying that as long as she's at that school, I shouldn't be," You explain, stopping when Tom does too.
"They want you to leave?" He frowns, his hand instinctively coming up to touch your arm before you moved.
"At the minute, yeah. They won't tell me what her mum did but I'm guessing it has to be pretty severe," You shrug, "I never like to go against what they say,"
"So you're just going to leave?" He exclaims.
"I don't know yet, I really don't," You shake your head, "But I'm spending every day with Imogen, I don't want to do something that makes them that uncomfortable,"
Before he can respond, Tom's mum is calling him to come back and he has to leave. You feel guilty for telling him because it had only been a month and it already seemed like you two relied on each other's presence at school. It was still uncertain to you why.
"(Y/N)," You hear Sam's voice call, it is weak and clearly conscious that you're the only one to hear.
"Hey, everything okay?" You frown, following his voice to where he was sat in one of the other sitting rooms in this mansion.
"My parents don't know that I'm bisexual," He admits, "I'm sorry, it's just I heard you talking about your dads and-"
"It's okay, I get it," You smile, taking a seat beside him, "You haven't told anyone?"
"Not on purpose," He sighs but you don't want to ask further, "Except Harry, obviously,"
"What about Tom?" You ask him, watching him relax at your lack of judgement.
"I know he's my brother, but I feel like I'd just be disappointing him. And even if he acted like he was okay, I wouldn't want him to think of me differently," He shakes his head, dragging a hand over his face.
"I'm not in any position to tell you what to do, but Tom cares about you. And he'd do anything for his brothers, and you telling him about your sexuality shouldn't and wouldn't change anything about the way he sees you," You assure him, "In fact, he'd probably really respect your confidence to tell him,"
"Thank you (Y/N)," He breaks into a smile that made you feel slightly accomplished in giving advice you weren't even sure you could give.
You stand up and brush down your school uniform and head back to the dining room to join the rest.
"Ahh there she is, we were just talking about how interesting it is that your parents adopted you!" Mrs Holland begins and you already regret your choice to come back to the table.
"Yes what a brilliant story," Mr Holland tries to sound interested but you can see the irritation towards the subject, obviously it was nothing to do with him and his self centred brain couldn't handle that.
You were thankful that Tom was still beside you, and with a gentle squeeze of your hand beneath the table, you were certain he wasn't leaving.
~~~Wednesday 30th January 2019~~~
"You were close with Imogen, is that correct?" The woman comments, glancing up to Harrison who sat anxiously awaiting in front of her.
"My parents knew her mum, we were in the same class. She was a good person," He comments, trying with everything to use as little detail as possible.
"And was there ever anything more than that?" She frowns, clearly knowing the answer that she expected.
"We... No. She liked me and whatever but there was nothing more. In fact, I think she only liked me because she assumed we should be together," He shrugs with his admittance, "Lily wanted Tom and she assumed that it meant she should have his best friend; me."
"Why did you not want to be with her? She was a young, pretty, smart girl, from the same lifestyle as you," The woman persists, her points irrelevant to Harrison.
"That has nothing to do with it," Harrison shakes his head, "Imogen was great, she was. But there was a lot more to her. You ask any person in that class and I can guarantee they had some sort of problem with her. Little or not, she had something on everyone there. And she wouldn't be afraid to expose it,"
#Tom#Tom holland#Tom holland imagine#Tom holland one shot#Tom holland series#Tom holland drabble#Tom imagine#Tom one shot#Tom series#Tom drabble#Tom x reader#Tom holland x reader#Tom x you#Tom holland x you#Tom x y/n#Tom holland x y/n#Harrison#Harrison osterfield#Zendaya#Harry#Harry holland#Sam#Sam holland#Elite#Elite series#Elite netflix#High Society#HS
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Illthdar High: An au fan fiction
Monday Morning
Imogen tried not to focus on the stench of sweaty socks and body odour as she sucked face with Salem behind the gym bleachers. They had ten minutes before the first bell which meant five minutes before Coach Phanuel would walk in with his Egg Mc Muffin and coffee. She memorized the gym teacher’s morning routine as soon as she realized they needed a place to meet up in secret. If anyone in the school knew she was making out with the loser who thought he was a vampire, it would ruin her reputation.
She still wasn’t entirely sure why she had let this go on as long as she had. All she knew was that she and Salem ended up alone at some party a few weeks ago and kissed. Since then, she’d made up a lot of excuses to sneak away and meet him for another make-out session. He was a surprisingly good kisser. Most guys Imogen kissed got way too eager with their tongue, making for a very sloppy and wet technique. Salem did not. And he's kinda cute… for a dork who likes to spend his time playing fantasy dress up.
Imogen opened one eye to check her watch. 7:55. Already? She pulled away from Salem. “It’s almost time for class. We should go,” she said, trying to hide her disappointment by reaching into her messenger bag for some lip gloss. Sure enough, she could hear Coach Phanuel’s humming coming from down the hall. “Remember––”
He stopped her by grabbing her hand and gently placing a kiss on top. “I know, I know. I won’t tell a soul,” he finished.
She pulled her hand away. “Don’t make me regret this more than I already do.” She left at a brisk walk before he could notice the blush colouring her cheeks. She hated how much she enjoyed the way her hand tingled where his lips had been.
~*~*~
“Hey man, where were you?” Rhovan asked as Salem walked up to their table in the cafeteria. He was sitting with the other members of the band, Date and Xyl, as they discussed the upcoming talent show. They had little success on agreeing on the set list. Rhovan kept arguing for more solos and Xyl had to point out that even Date had a difficult time screaming over the drums.
Date, as usual, was only half paying attention. He mumbled a quick “Hey,” before returning to scribbling lyrics on the nearest napkin.
“I… had to get something from my locker,” Salem lied, taking a seat next to his friends.
“Well, you don’t have much time left before the breakfast line closes,” Xyl pointed out.
“I’ve already had my meal.” He smiled wide, so they could see the red tint of his teeth as he pulled out the flask he always carried. It had taken Salem ages to find the perfect juice product to give the desired effect. Hawaiian Punch was the perfect substitute for blood.
Xyl and Rhovan both rolled their eyes.
“Look, I’m just saying it doesn’t work with our image,” Xyl said to Rhovan, returning to the argument Salem interrupted.
“Of course it does, man. Tell him, Date.”
Date looked up at his name, blinking back confusion. “What?”
“Aren’t you even listening?” Rhovan asked, running his hands through his electric blue hair.
“This concerns all of us,” agreed Xyl.
Date sighed in a long-suffering manner, flicking his long dark hair out of his face and turning his black-lined eyes towards the bickering duo. They should know better than to interrupt him when he was in ‘the zone.’ How could they perform without his lyrics to inspire and direct them? Still, he knew these idiots well enough to know that they wouldn’t shut up until he paid attention to what they were saying. “Fine, I’m listening. What?”
~*~*~
Vyxen watched her brother join his friends from across the room as she finished her own breakfast. All of her meals were plastic wrapped and separated from everyone else’s. Today it was a rock-hard blueberry muffin and a clementine on the side. Her allergies to nuts and gluten made it difficult to eat out anywhere, and she always carried her epi pen just in case. “Do you want your chocolate milk?” She turned to her friend, Raemina.
“No, you can have it,” she replied, distracted and having just made eye contact with Rhovan.
Beside her, Nyima wrapped her sweater more tightly around her shoulders and shivered. “I wish they’d turn the heat up in here. It’s always so drafty!”
Vyxen shrugged as she took the carton off Raemina’s tray, noticing Jingyi watching from the end of a table where he sat by himself, trying not to take up too much space. “I know you said he's not,” she commented to Nyima, “but he is totally checking you out.”
“He's not,” Nyima insisted, glancing at Jingyi and blushing.
Raemina snorted, but didn't take her eyes off Rhovan across the room. “You can practically hear his thoughts, he's so transparent.” She wished Rhovan was like that.
“Yup,” Vyxen agreed, nodding. “He thinks you look pretty—which is given because you are—and he wants to ask you out, but he's a boy, so he's freaking.”
Nyima ducked her head and glanced at Jingyi again, trying to see what her friends did.
The bell rang and Jingyi sprang up from his seat and said, “I’ve gotta go,” to no one in particular and dashed out of the cafeteria.
Nyima's face burned with sympathetic embarrassment as he nearly tripped over the garbage can.
“Stupid, stupid, stupid.” He looked at Nyima to see if she saw and grew flustered when he caught her looking and ran out.
Raemina, finally dragging her eyes away from Rhovan’s glittering aqua eyes, just shook her head. “You know, I’m no expert on love but even I can tell that he has a thing for you. You should talk to him.”
Nyima choked, pausing mid-way up from her chair to stare at Raemina with wide, terrified eyes. “I couldn’t,” she mumbled, getting up and fiddling with the contents in her plain, dark blue backpack to give her hands something to do. “I wouldn’t know what to say. You guys know I don’t do well under pressure.”
“She’s right,” Vyxen agreed with Nyima, sipping her chocolate milk as she stood up and gathered her backpack. “I wouldn’t be able to just walk up and talk to a guy like that, that’d be too scary.”
“Like how you can’t even function when Date is in the same space as you?” Nyima asked with a little grin, eager to push attention away from herself.
Vyxen deflated. “I tried to talk to him once. He didn’t even know my name. I’ve been in the same class with him since third grade and he's been coming over to my house to hang with Salem since middle school,” she lamented sadly.
Nyima gave her a hug. “Boys are dumb.”
“And anyways,” Vyxen continued as the three of them shuffled into the hallway to join the throng of students heading to class, “if it was so easy, Rae, you would have done it a long time ago.”
Raemina sighed again, thinking of long blue hair. She could not think of any reason to defend herself for not approaching Rhovan other than the same anxiety the other two were feeling. “Yeah, you’re right.”
~*~*~
“We’re gonna have another late practice tonight because the JV girls can’t get their act together. Seriously, I don’t know how any of them think they’ll ever make Varsity if they can’t even get a back handspring,” Zercey complained, rolling her eyes.
“Mmm,” replied Scyanatha, only half listening as her friend chatted on their way to class.
“And then Friday is the talent show, so all day afternoon we’ll be preparing for that. Oh, which reminds me, one of the club leaders is sick with mono or something, so we need someone else to judge. Could you help?”
That got her attention. “Judge the talent show?” she repeated, a smirk forming on her face. “I’d love to.”
Zercey snickered, knowing what her friend thought about the so-called ‘talent’ at their school. Zercey was captain of the cheer squad, and their friend Imogen was class president, which meant between them, they were always in charge of events at the school. After all, someone with taste needed to make sure the rest of those losers didn’t mess it up for everyone else. Scyanatha usually preferred to sit on the sidelines while the others ran the show. Doing the heavy lifting was not a good idea when your manicures cost as much as hers did.
Imogen caught up with them halfway through the hallway. “Scy’s helping judge?” she queried having just overheard the last bit of the exchange. Zercey nodded, and she smiled. “This is gonna be fun.”
They got to their door of their English class only to see Seth, Scy’s boyfriend, casually leaning against the doorframe.
“See you in class,” Imogen said as she and Zercey shared a knowing look and walked in to take their seats.
“Hey babe,” Seth said, grabbing Scyanatha’s waist. Without waiting for her to respond, he drew her towards him and pressed his mouth to hers. The combination of the mint from his toothpaste and the spice of his aftershave stung her nostrils in a way that always got her worked up.
She returned his kiss hungrily, knowing full well that they were drawing stares and loving every second of it. Let them look. He's all mine.
When they finally drew apart, Seth kept his face close to hers. “Are your parents still out of town?” he asked huskily, still looking at her lips.
She nodded, knowing what that meant.
“Good. I’ll come over after practice.” He gave her one last kiss and then walked down the hall with his practiced swagger.
“Take a picture, why don’t you,” Scy snapped to the janitor who was making a big show of not looking at the two of them; Trenfal, she thought his name was. Her hair whipped behind her as she strode into the classroom.
~*~*~
Down the hall, Rhoe glowered at the history teacher Mr. Culvers as he rambled on about some stupid, dead president. Principal Chiyoko’s sickly sweet voice hadn’t even finished ringing through the sound system for the morning announcements before he cut in, eager to get the day’s lesson started. I can’t wait to graduate. God, I need a cigarette. Of course she had one not even ten minutes ago. Every morning before class Rhoe and her only friend and ally, Cowan, shared a smoke behind the school parking lot. They'd taken up the secret habit a year ago after he stole a pack from his house without his mom knowing. Now he was in another class with some other deadbeat teacher and she had to sit through an hour and a half of Mr. Culvers delighting in the sound of his own voice. In front of her, Rhovan beat two pencils against the desk as if it were the plastic and metals of his drum kit instead of beat up wood. Rhoe kicked the back of his seat to let him know just how she felt about his music making. He stopped the drumming, but not before shooting her a dark look from over his shoulder.
“And, since this chapter is also the last in its section, in pairs, you’ll all pick a relevant topic and create a project around it,” Mr. Culvers stated in an overly exuberant tone, either not noticing or ignoring just how lacking in excitement his students were. “The person to your left will be your partner,” he carried on talking right through the groans. “You will each pick one ancient city and complete a presentation about it by Friday.” More groans followed, and the plaid clad teacher finally took note and frowned. Ancient history was deeply fascinating and he couldn’t believe that he got landed with a class where not even one student, not even one, was interested. Time to sweeten the deal. “I will excuse the best presentation… from the mid-winter exams.” He watched as the whole class’s posture instantly changed, finally paying attention. “I will expect you to give the presentation in front of the entire class, so be sure you know what you’re talking about,” he added with a wide smile, speaking almost directly to Seth. The kid thought he was slick by having other people do his work, but he didn’t know the ‘nerds’ he hired ended up slipping in ridiculous sentences and facts throughout the work. Seth never bothered to proofread things before he turned them in, which was a big mistake on his part.
Seth narrowed his light brown eyes at his teacher and then narrowed them even further when he looked to the side to see the weird Emo kid they placed him with. He couldn’t honestly even remember this guy’s name and now he was supposed to work with him? This was utter bull. “So what do you want to do?” he asked none too nicely, only to be ignored entirely by the black-haired teen beside him. “Hey,” Seth continued, sounding more unfriendly by the second and not used to being ignored, “I’m talking to you, moron.”
“What?” Date drawn out of his daydream, cast lazy grey eyes over to the irritated rich boy. “Did you need something, your highness?” he drawled, not particularly interested in this conversation and not having heard a single word the teacher or Seth said.
“Were you listening to anything?” Seth exploded, drawing the eyes of the surrounding students.
“Nope.” Date replied without missing a beat, his lips quirking up when Seth swore under his breath.
Things were no cheerier across the room. Since neither Rhoe nor Rhovan had anyone sitting with them, they were paired together. It thrilled neither of them.
“We can meet up later at your house to talk about the project.” Rhovan said, finally breaking the intense staring competition the two were having, opting to take the high road for the sake of his grade.
“Why my house? I don’t want you in my space.” Rhoe scowled at him, wishing she had a cigarette if only so she could put it out on his forehead.
“Because your brother will be there to make it easier to deal with you.” Rhovan snapped, turning back around and pressing his nose into his book to have an excuse not to talk to her anymore. He already knew this would be a nightmare. He’d rather pair up with Date, even if he knew that he’d be doing all the work if he was. That would still be preferable to the brat sitting behind him. It would be a long, miserable week.
~*~*~
The chemistry teacher, Mr. Uwe’s, eyeglasses fell down the bridge of his long, slim nose. He pushed them back up now as he addressed the class. “Pop quiz!” he announced to a lot of groans.
Nyima took a deep breath, nerves already flaring at the idea of a pop quiz. She studied, but she never liked things sprung on her at a moment’s notice. She pushed her book into the cubby hole under the table and waited for someone to pass the papers out, chancing a glance at her friends to see if they were as surprised by the sudden quiz as she was.
Vyxen was two tables over from her, sitting beside a bored looking goth kid named Cowan and obsessively straightening her pens and pencils. She organized them so they were all lined up and sorted by color. She probably wouldn’t need them all for this class, but it was better to be prepared. She was one of the few students who didn’t zone out when Mr. Uwe droned on about a subject and she liked all of her notes color coded.
Raemina was a seat in front of her, sitting straight-backed and with a pencil at the ready, her game face on. Nyima knew she wouldn’t have any problems, Rae was the smartest kid in their grade.
Moving of their own accord, her blue eyes traveled to the scrawny, but handsome boy sitting next to her. Jingyi had his eyes on the board, picking a paper out of the pile before passing them behind him to Cowan. He didn’t look nervous and Nyima wondered if he was good at chemistry. Maybe they could study together? Like a study group! That way she could invite him to the group instead of inviting him to study with her alone that made things seem safer.
His blue eyes suddenly moved across the room and landed on her and Nyima aborted the idea as her heart almost beat out of her chest. No! She tried to will the redness away from her cheeks, he would think I was stupid if I asked.
Jingyi was having a similar sort of breakdown. It was risky to try and look at Nyima in this class, the potential of getting caught was too high since he shared a table with one of her friends. His eyes moved on their own though and oh gosh, he knew she’d seen him look at her. She was so pretty, it wasn’t even fair that she existed and she probably thought he was a total creep now. He cursed himself, thinking of the horrible things she must think of him and filling out his worksheet with bs answers just to look like he was busy.
“Hey, can I borrow a pen.” Cowan asked Vyxen, watching as the girl paused and seemed to have some sort of mental stroke as she looked over her well-organized writing utensils, debating which one she could sacrifice because she knew by now he wouldn’t give it back. He’d been doing this all year and it was the only thing that amused him enough to carry him through the class. She was too nice to tell him no, but she was such an organization freak that the idea of parting with one of her pens and utterly ruining the color system she had going bothered her. He tried not to snicker too loud when her shoulders took on a defeated slump and she handed over a dark blue pen. “Thanks, I’ll remember to give it back,” he lied, immediately sticking the end of the pen into his mouth to chew on. He could see her twitch out of the corner of his eye. As he turned to the front of the class, he felt someone’s eyes on him. Looking around, he made eye contact with Xyl, who was watching the interaction with a smirk. Cowan gave him a nod and then turned his attention back to Mr. Uwe as the teacher handed him the quiz.
Xyl watched Cowan for another moment more under the curtain of shaggy hair that mostly obscured his face. The two men were on friendly terms. Or at least, as friendly as Cowan got with anyone besides Xyl’s sister, Rhoe. Those two hung out all the time, skipping class and sneaking cigarettes when they thought no one was paying attention. But Xyl knew, he’d been watching Cowan for a while now though it was quite a task to do so. He couldn’t envision what his sisters would say if they found out. Rhoe would accuse him of creeping on her friend and most definitely tell Cowan all about it, and Imogen would be disgusted and twitter about it to her stupid friends, and soon the entire school would know and he’d have to flee the state and change his name. But… but he could still look. Just so long as he didn’t get caught.
~*~*~
Zercey batted her eyelids at the handsome, young English teacher, Mr. Bracken. It was all for show, of course. Zercey enjoyed getting the other girls' backs up, but that wasn’t the only reason she did it. She and Lerki hooked up several times now, but he never admitted he was actually interested in her. He was almost always flanked by other women throwing themselves at him, and even though she knew they did nothing, it still made her jealous. Two can play at that game, she decided.
Lerki sauntered into the room, throwing a wink at an underclassman in the second row. She fluttered and blushed, ducking her head in embarrassment as he passed her and took his seat at the back of the class, pausing briefly to chat up a pretty blond girl on his way. His ego stroked when she stuttered out a response, face turning as red as the shirt she was wearing. He all but fell into his seat, sprawling long legs under the desk and turning his dark blue eyes to Zercey, watching as she attempted to flirt with the clearly annoyed teacher. Seeing her try to make him jealous was adorable, it almost made him want to pinch her pretty cheeks. He threw an arm over the empty seat next to him, glancing at it before turning his dark blue eyes to Zercey with a pointed look and a smile that could make panties drop, or so they told him.
Zercey hated that it was working. She let out a huff, but collected her expensive, designer bag and marched to the back of class, sitting in the seat Lerki directed her to. She really shouldn’t let him have so much power, she usually liked to keep her boy toys in their places, but dammit, he was just so stupidly hot. He knew it too and his grin widened when she did exactly what he wanted her to.
“Good girl,” he purred, letting his eyes wander over, drinking in the sight of her in her miniskirt and heels. Lerki liked to think she’d put them on with him in mind. “Hey gorgeous,” he whispered, leaning across the aisle until he could smell her Chanel perfume. “Maybe after school today we could…”
The sound of Mr. Bracken ‘accidentally’ slamming a pile of books onto the front desk cut off whatever Lerki intended to say. He had good ears and he’d had to listen to those two exchange horrifying comments for the entire semester. There was only so much he could take this early in the morning. I knew it was a bad idea to take a job in a public high school, Mr. Bracken bemoaned internally, I should have just waited for that position in the local private school to open up next year. I don’t deserve this level of nonsense. “Good news!” He put on his best smile and tried to ignore the creepily dreamy looks some of his students sent him. “Today I will assign everyone the book they’ll use for their book report!” Internally he delighted at the sounds of their groans and suffering. “I hope you all like medieval literature!”
Scyanatha rolled her eyes, but didn’t even bother to glance up from her pale pink smartphone where she was scrolling through the comments on her latest selfie. This class was stupid, and it was ridiculous that she had to take it. Why would she ever need to read books anyways? She would be a model and marry Seth. This course was nothing but hindering her future. Didn't Bracken know how many selfies and self-promotion she could get done in an hour? Like… a lot. Instead, she was stuck here and the hotness of the teacher didn’t make up for the mind-numbing boredom she felt. At least she wasn’t alone, she stretched out one of her long legs and nudged Zercey’s back with the top of her lacy, Jimmy Choo heel. She flashed her cell phone when Zercey turned before quickly dropping it back below her desk and out of sight to send her a message in their group chat.
Scybaby: so when r u gonna to put mr blond sexy into his place?
Starflyer4: Working on it!
Scybaby: u no he’s into you… obvs… just stop playing his game!
Starflyer4: I’m weak to blonds Scy! U kno this
ImoL0v3: As much as I agree with Scy (he’s so into you) this project is like 40% of our grade. Pay attention.
Scybaby: not doing it… seth can def pay 1 of the nerds to do it 4 me. we have better things to do with our time ;)
ImoL0v3: Gross.
Scybaby: jealous? u no Seth has some hot friends, I can totes hook u up
ImoL0v3: Those creepy college bros? Pass.
Starflyer4: Can Seth actually pay people do to the project?!
Imogen was amused, if not a little exasperated. She had no doubts that Seth could wave some money around and get all of their projects done and it sounded exactly like the sort of thing he’d do. It was almost tempting to see if he’d also get someone to do hers, but as class president she was going to be watched closer than the other students. She’d have no choice but to do it herself. Maybe Salem could help. Medieval literature should be right up his alley. It also gave her an excuse to be in his presence without Scy and Zercey both freaking out over it. She cast a glance to her two friends, both only breaking away from their cellphones to look up at the board and pretend to pay attention. She could ask Salem for help, but she’d definitely have to do it outside of school. Even with an excuse it was too risky to be around him where others could see. She couldn’t even imagine how quickly her reputation would go down the toilet if anyone found out she talked to him.
By @guardians-of-las-vyxen
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WIP Challenge
I got tagged by @kikithedeceiver to do this!
Challenge: post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous.
Here’s the thing. I don’t have many separate WIP files; most of them are in one huge doc. and most of the separate wip files are... pretty dead? but ok whatevs. under a read more since it’s long...... and my ego won’t let me skip snippets hjkhkhk thanks for the idea Kiki
From my main miscellaneous folder:
50 Grades of Steele. 1 and a half chaps of a role-flipped 50 Shades of Grey rewrite (i haven’t read the books so I extra don’t care about the characters lol). why do i still have it i’ve lost interest.... *side eyes her entire wip ecosystem*
...Then I see my interview subject, seated at her desk.
"Mr. Grey. I'm pleased to meet you."
And I stop breathing. [end CH1]
[open CH2) I forgot to mention something: I exaggerate occasionally. But I'm not now. I literally stop breathing for a few seconds. A thousand thoughts are racing through my mind, which doesn't help my chest stop seizing, but the main problem here is that Anastasia Steele is quite possibly the most beautiful woman I've ever seen.
Fanfic idea masterlist. my most active file and where I keep most of my WIPS, unless they get too “large”. Organized by fandom. lotta stuff i keep passing by & may as well be dead but don’t wanna delete. here’s a zero-draft snippet of probably the next chapter of my G-rated yukyoru fic collection
He grabbed a pillow and placed it to his chest, grabbed her arm, and yanked her to him, praying his idea would work.
Seconds passed and he didn't transform. He put his arms around her gingerly. Should he try to immobilize her or would that make it worse?
She made the decision for him. "Mom," she sobbed, clutching him with an iron grip. "N-Need to help...!"
His stomach dropped to his shoes.
Thudding footsteps announced Yuki's arrival. "What's wrong?! Honda-san--"
He didn't say "What did you do?" The thought raced by and Kyo said, "Grab a pillow and help me!"
As Yuki positioned the pillow and himself without having to ask, Kyo said, "She won't wake up. I don't know what to do!"
"Night terror," Yuki said tightly. He was too close but it almost didn't matter. "Not much you can do besides wait."
MayxWard BDSM fic
agents of SHIELD. mix of notes and actual writing. kind of a half AU.
Melinda climbed into the driver's side and buckled in, then started up the car. "If you've not ridden on the left before you might have motion sickness. It's normal. Just close your eyes until—" She paused as she looked at him; his hands shook so much he couldn't manage the seatbelt. "Here, let me."
"Thanks," he muttered with a sigh, looking rueful.
Modern AU Zelink. What it says on the tin~ Teenage-ish Zelink, with a mash of supporting characters from other games. another mix of notes and fic.
Link wasn't sleeping tonight. Tonight was the night he'd been planning for and awaiting for weeks. He was going on a quest: the quest to meet Princess Zelda.
She wasn't really a princess, of course. That was just her nickname. Zelda Nohansen was Hyrule's sweetheart, the most sought-after young actress in the movie business. And Link had fallen in love with her the first time he'd seen her, two years ago in a tiny theater in Kakariko.
PMMMfic homumado. Madoka Magica. AU, been around since about an hour after I finished the series (5 years yikes, still gotta watch Rebellion). Homura's time power still somewhat involved, but Mami's an adult, everyone's at a boarding school (I think?) where ~things aren't as they first seem~ and Madoka has mysterious powers and night terrors. just notes at the moment.
SoubixHitomi. Loveless. 3 unfinished/dead first-person Shinonome-senseixSoubi snippets, all of ‘em spicy.
yvy abo. Yuri On Ice. Yuri (Katsuki!!)/Victor/Yuko(!!?!), my attempt at. well. omegaverse(!!!!!!!). orignally started as part of a “bad YOI fic” bigbang and now I’m taking it seriously dgdgfg. Alpha Yuko.
“Please, please stop,” she whispered, like saying it aloud would make any difference. But the pressure in her head kept building. Her limbs had begun to itch restlessly.
And Victor wouldn’t let go of her hand.
With the last scrap of her control, she straddled him quickly and kissed him awake.
Even in half-sleep he arched to meet her, and when he opened his eyes sapphire blue had already turned stormy with lust.
yvy canonfuturefic. Yuko-focused following of canon, or: how canon can I keep YOI while still rareship OT3ing it. She and Yuri fall in and out of love, in between falling for Victor. Victuri is still my life I swear
“You have got to watch this,” she tells Yuri. She watches Yuri’s face instead of the video, having seen it at least forty times by now.
Yuri’s eyes transform into beacons of awe, and Yuko swallows around her rapid heartbeat, breaths coming too short. She sees everything she’s feeling and more on his face. She remembers that she loves him, that he’s real and here and more important than the beautiful boy on her phone who’s trying to pull her under to a scary new world.
ZnT ot3 bdsm AU. Zankyou no Terror, 9/12/Lisa. mix of notes and fic, not just PWP. in heavy need of editing bc a lot was inspired by a non-spicy book.
“But it’s not just me. It’s everyone. You need everyone because you have no idea how to need yourself. Or even how to be yourself.”
“You’re wrong.” The force and volume of her voice shocked her and pushed her onward. “You and Touji. I don’t need anyone except you and Touji! Because you both taught me how to be myself-- no, how to find that on my own. I know exactly who I am, and that me isn’t complete without both of you!” She could feel the tears streaming down her face, yet somehow her voice didn’t waver. She felt so full of conviction she could burst into flames. “Don’t you understand, Arata? We’re all meant to be together.”
From my SnK folder:
Cave of the Crystal Maiden (working title). Aruani. Modern AU. MMORPG shenanigans with a dollop of magical realism/supernatural. Just notes. @portraitofa-girl suggested “meeting online” and it’s been there literally for years oh lord im sorry. no fic yet, just notes.
Falling Anthem (working title) Modern AU Levihan, art student Hange and young professor Levi. just notes. fic one in a planned series. also has been years ;_;
Raindrops and Soft Steps. Jearmin. unsurprisingly, modern AU.
One morning, when Jean looks out of his bedroom window, he sees a boy dancing across the street. In the street, to be exact. There wouldn't be anything unusual about that, Jean supposes, except it's raining cats and dogs outside.
In my IAMXfic folder (fff i almost skipped this):
2ndPOVCalberto (DO NOT CORRUPT WITH HET) ChrisxAlberto? not much to say?? yes i know they’re real people??? which applies to everything after this oh my god *crawls under desk*
Of course she knows; she is annoyingly perceptive when it comes to romance. The only thing preventing you from asking her (like a fucking lovestruck teenager) if Alberto likes you back is emptying that beer bottle. By then the only thing on your mind is ordering another.
CalbertImmi. i can’t even keep my poly shit outta RPF ahaha omhg
Imogen has a conversation with her lover's lover. (AlbertImmi, sequel to...)
Imogen finds herself in an unenviable position. (emerging CalbertImmi)
Alternate summaries (CC POV, first fic?):
Chris loves two people. He doesn't want to choose.
Chris has fallen in love a few times in his life. But he's never fallen for two people at once. (Chris also isn't good at choosing.)
ChrisxJ. several self-insert fics bc CC is just that powerful, apparently. haven’t looked at the file in a long time,,,,,
He started calling people to the stage with him, and one by one, my row emptied.
"Come on, yeah, come on," he was saying, waving his hand in an inviting gesture and grinning like a little kid. "Hey, you want to?" I did a double take.
"Me?" I mouthed, pointing at myself just to be sure. He nodded, smiling wider.
So it was that I walked unsteadily down the ramp and waited in line, feeling like I didn’t belong there. Soon I was next in line. What would I say? What would I do? I was sure if I opened my mouth I’d either burst into tears or faint.
Genderswapped IAMX sci-fi. The sci-fi was inspired by a word prompt, genderswapping by my own brain. (play spot the Immi lmao)
Across the aisle, Sam rolled his eyes. “Leave Chris alone; she’s nervous.”
“And put on your own seatbelt, Johann,” shouted Jess, two seats back and in Sam’s aisle.
Patrick turned to look at Chris. “Subspace travel is a bitch,” he said simply, and turned back to his book.
“Oh, I feel much less nervous now,” Chris said with a sardonic grin. “How do you know that, anyway?”
"I'm not exactly what I seem to be." He didn’t look up.
Chriimmi (While I Was Gone inspired). Chris/Imogen, inspired by scenes from Sue Miller’s While I Was Gone.
"You really ought not to do that, you know," he said softly.
"Do what?"
"Sneak up on me."
My eyes slid from his face. "I didn't mean to. It just... happened."
"Mm." I glanced back at him; he wore a lopsided smile. "Not that I minded." The tension was so strong the air nearly vibrated with it, yet I held my tongue, terrified that I was the only one feeling it. He took a breath, deep, nearly rising on his toes. "No. I didn't mind at all." He took my hand, circled his thumb over the back. My breath caught as I felt it, as I watched him looking down at our hands.
Chriimmi bathtub dream. dream inspired Chris/Immi smut.
Chriimmi twitter. twitfic plus some, inspired from an actual tweet iamx made that i’m still not over.
@ imogenheap Come sing your lovely lyrics with us in London. @ IAMX misses you. CCx
ChrisxImmi main. grab bag of Chriimmi I was too lazy to put into separate docs.
“What do you think?” She grinned, twirling.
He cleared his throat. “Ah, I-Imogen, what are you wearing?”
“Well, I didn’t want to clash with your theme… Janine helped me. Does it work?”
Scandalously short skirt, midriff-baring top, knee-high boots.
“You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you? You’re trying to fucking kill me.”
Her grin only widened, even though a blush had started.
Fic edit chriimmi ver. yeah. editing someone else’s original fic to be chrimmi. either never posting or editing the frick out of. ~_~
He kissed her neck, whispered into it, “I love you.”
Imogen laughed. “Bollocks,” she said lazily.
”I do!” Chris protested. She looked down at him, nestled on her shoulder. He looked back, open, a little adoring. “I fell in love with you halfway through the show; I sang every note just for you.”
”Oh, please. You couldn’t have seen me.”
”No,” he said. “But I knew you were out there… I knew it had been you the minute I saw you backstage.”
Hospital Chriimmi. In which my guilty feeling over RPF are even worse bc of the inspiration ^_^U
“Ms. Heap. What a pleasant surprise.” It’s surprising, how well she remembers his voice.
“Mr. Corner, what have you got yourself into?”
“Oh, just a bit of lingering insomnia. You know how it is.”
She takes a seat in the chair near his bed, crossing her legs. “Well, I’ve certainly had a sleepless night here and there, but I’ve never ended up in hospital from it. So no, I don’t suppose I do know.” Her tone is light, but her smile has begun to crack.
ImmixChris genderbend smut. the my secret friend video is... fertile material. have not actually written the smut yet.
...he saw us as characters– we put on those clothes and become separate from ourselves, removed. Whereas I simply felt like myself in men’s clothes, and instead of feeling what He felt for Her, I just kept right on feeling what I felt for Chris, amplified to a distracting level.
ReluctantdommeImmixSubCC. ...shrug emoji? notes and uh. visualizing.
Vampire Chriimmi. based on a dream. smutty. inspired by True Blood so wow that’s old.
From my Markipairings folder:
demon dream. markiplier self insert...... ughhhhhhhh o///o
"You can have me," I tell the creature. "But this one," I jerk my head toward Mark, "comes with me. He's mine, you see." A bold proclamation to make, but in the moment I know that the truth in those words surpasses everything I've ever said. He is mine, and saying the thought out loud fills me with courage. He squeezes my hand, two short and a long one so strong I think he might break it.
I know we’ll win.
DommeJujY. same as above, same as the next four. smutty.
Fight team AU. i forget where i got this one from. vaguely inspired by loveless i guess.
The first clear thought I had was, He shouldn't have gone ahead of me. The second one was, I should have been able to protect him. But these came later, after the rage went away, after I hugged him and apologized, after I bandaged him…
Gaming meetcute. i win some contest or whatever to secretly tagteam w/ Mark. stuff happens and yeah......
The adrenaline surges through my veins as I take in the scene. Mark's avatar is flailing around, backed into a corner by some Eldritch Abomination and holy shit, the graphics in this game are amazing.
"This is not good, I can't move, I can't move…"
There's a voice in the back of my head screaming to shut the game down, to get that horrible thing off the screen. I ignore it.
Markinpanties. .......smut.
shifter-slight sci-fi AU. shrug emoji.
I looked up from the ground and saw I was heading straight for a brick wall. There was no time to slow down. I braced for impact...
It didn't happen. I opened my eyes and found myself in a café.
What.
Looking behind me, I saw a door. On impulse I walked over and opened it; the tree-lined street I could see through the glass was indeed there. No brick wall to smack my face into. Bewildered, I turned around and looked for a seat, choosing one near a window.
Gouldiplier~. master doc of ficbits of my cracky mccrackship, MarkiplierxEllie Goulding.
I check my phone during break time again. My selfie has been liked and retweeted thousands of times, and I shake my head in disbelief; I don't think that will ever stop surprising me, deep down. To make things even better, Mark's liked it! I'm in the middle of a happy jig when I realize there's a text from him and a squeak of joy slips from me.
hellooo gorgeous
looks like you're having fun. Hope the shoot's going great! <3
I quickly send a reply. it has been. Be glad when it's done tho. Missin u lots xo
Markipicbunnies. fanart of Mark for Gouldiplier insipration. photographer au.
"Ms. Goulding, I'm really not sure about this…"
"I produce pictures that are intimate because I'm an intimate being, Mark." Ellie looked at him directly, a hint of a smile shaping her lips. "Deep down, I think you are too. We just need to draw you out a bit."
showersexgouldiplier. WELP. IT’S SMUT.
Also I have folders for my 2010/11 nanowrimo novel that are kinda still WIPs but also kinda not
i’m gonna tag.... @kippielovesyou @kiridork and @mistergrass and anyone else who wants to do this can too :3
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"you gotta keep livin’ man. L-I-V-I-N.”
The bar was supposed to be Imogen’s safe place. No one that she knew from LA ever came in, mostly because the people in her lawyer life frequented classy, expensive city bars rife with celebrities, not highway exit trucker bars. This was exactly what Imogen wanted, though. She wanted to lead this double life, top notch lawyer during the week and truck stop bartender on the weekend.
She liked her life more Friday to Sunday than she did Monday to Thursday. Her clients at the bar were full of color, life, and stories. They treated her like a daughter, or a sister if they were young enough. Her clients at her law firm were pieces of cardboard-- no personality, nothing exciting to talk about. Their lives consisted of making money, staying in the limelight, and being in relationships with attractive people who boosted their own fame. Trying to maintain conversations with them was the most challenging thing in the world.
Weekends were supposed to be her time to recharge and get away, which was why seeing Xander at the end of the bar made Imogen want to shrink away. Sure, there was another bartender on duty, but he was on her half. Besides, he would see her anyway, and Imogen figured it would be much less awkward to get the introduction out of the way now rather than it come up if they ran into each other in the future.
“Hey,” she said, nodding and leaning on the bar across from him. He looked like he was having a rough night, but she decided against saying anything. Bartender Imogen was much more casual, more relaxed. “Need a drink? First one’s on the house.”
Xander looked up, recognizing her instantly. Surprisingly, amusement wasn’t one of the emotions in his eyes. Maybe he was too drained to find this funny.
“Yeah, a cosmo sounds good,” he muttered, resting his chin on the table.
“Consider it done.” She moved behind the bar, getting all of her ingredients. “I haven’t seen you here before.”
“It’s because I’ve never been here before,” he replied, sitting up slightly to talk to her. “I was on a drive, needed to clear my head. I saw this bar and thought, ‘Perfect, I won’t see anyone I know here. I need a drink.’ Guess I was wrong.” But he shrugged, not seeming too upset. Imogen supposed that out of all the people he could have accidentally run into, he was glad it was just her.
“I thought I was the only one who thought driving was the best way to clear your head,” Imogen said, smiling. “There’s something about being on an empty highway at night that makes you feel independent, in control. Free.”
“Most nights, yeah.”
This is where Imogen’s people reading skills came in handy. As a bartender and a lawyer, you needed to know when to step back, when to press, and what questions to ask when you made the big step. Huh. Maybe her two jobs weren’t so opposite after all.
Xander wasn’t exactly clamming up and his body language seemed somewhat comfortable. But she didn’t want to press about the issues of the evening, especially considering her legal advice was what had spurred them on.
She’d take a different route.
“I started working at this bar three years ago,” Imogen said, pouring the cosmo into a glass and sliding it across the bar to him. “I’d spent the first six months out of law school at the office slaving over cases. Come December, I was so burnt out that I didn’t think I could keep up. I went back home for Christmas and spent a lot of time with my dad playing tennis. It’s funny, I didn’t even know he played tennis because he’s always playing golf with other politicians and connections, but he does. He spends most of his time at the court on weekends. Sometimes my mom goes.”
A regular sidled up to the bar and sat in her section, greeting her with a toothless: “Howdy, Immy!” She noticed Xander smile at this interaction and took this as a cue that it was okay to put the conversation on hold. With a nod, Imogen got her customer’s regular drink, a Budweiser in a cold glass, and brought it to him, staying momentarily to chat about his route, his maniac boss, his wife, and his adorable grandkids.
“I gotchu anotha’ picture for the wall,” he said, pulling a folded up picture of his newest grandbaby from his wallet. “Nine pounds and fo’ ounces. Looks just like her grandma.” He was beaming, and Imogen smiled, looking fondly at the picture. She loved the childless life, but hell, she had crazy baby fever.
“She’s beautiful,” Imogen replied, hanging the picture up on the back wall of the bar. It was filled from top to bottom with pictures of their staff and regulars-- themselves, their friends, their families. It had been going on way before she’d been there. She’d added some of herself-- her graduation from law school, her with her parents, a few pictures of her with other employees and customers. It was sweet. This bar really was her second home.
Imogen returned to Xander, who was examining the wall. He didn’t seem to be bored and he didn’t seem to be upset that she was back. In fact, his focus returned to her immediately when she was in front of him.
“Sorry about that,” she said. “Randy passes through her about once a month, so I try to take a second to talk to him.”
“There’s nothing to apologize for. You’re working.”
“Oh, I’m not sorry I talked to him. I’m sorry I paused in the middle of a story.”
“Well you can make it up to me by continuing.” He was smiling. She could see his teeth. Who was this Xander? Was it the alcohol?
“Yeah, well anyway, my dad told me that when he first got into politics, he thought being successful meant spending every minute working and putting everything you had into relationships with other politicians and businessmen and whoever. He was exhausted. You know, I’ve never related to him more than I did then.” Imogen noticed his empty glass. “Need another cosmo?”
“Is that even a question?” Xander scoffed playfully, handing her the glass. She laughed, shaking her head.
“No. I could drink cosmos all night.”
“You don’t strike me as a cosmo kind of girl.”
“And what kind of girl do I strike you as?” Imogen teased, shaking the drink already.
“Like a ‘three fingers of bourbon, neat, girl.’” He chuckled, running a hand through his hair.
“On the rocks, actually,” she replied with a grin, handing him his second cosmo.
“Damn,” he muttered, taking a sip. “I was close. But tell me, how does your dad playing tennis relate to you working here?”
She’d got him now.
“My whole life was just work. Every relationship I’d built was because of work. Everything on my schedule was arranged around work. It sounds stupid, but even every piece of clothing I owned was based around work. I forgot who I actually was. It was embarrassing, degrading almost. I was driving around one night to clear my head and stumbled across this little place. It was karaoke night. I stopped in, got a drink, sang a few songs. It was the most like myself I’d felt in a while. The sign on the door said they needed help- a bartender to take weekend shifts. And I don’t know. It just felt right.”
Imogen leaned on the bar, tired of standing on her feet.
“People always say you’re supposed to work to live, not live to work. Neither of those things really feel right. I just want to live. Work’s part of that.”
He was staring at her and through her at the same time, lost in thought. She grabbed his empty glass and started making another cosmo. It took a minute before he decided to speak.
“Everything sucks right now.” He accepted his third cosmo and took a long sip. “Can’t seem to get my shit together. Not just at work. I can’t stop going back to her. She’s a magnet from Hell. And I’ve been a shitty friend. Don’t know how to fix any of those things, though.”
“Your relationship with relationships sounds a lot like my relationship with work,” Imogen commented.
“People always tell me that I need to be in a relationship to feel whole, to boost my career, to meet my needs. To fully experience life. And that if I don’t have friends and spend all my time partying with them, I’ll look like a loser with no life.” Xander was nodding his head, finally making the connection she’d been getting at all along. “I just want to live my life how I want to. Relationships are a part of that.”
“Damn, look at you, Boy Wonder!” She applauded softly, smiling. “And right at the tail end of your three drink limit.”
“You have a limit here?” He looked disappointed.
“Trucker bar. Remember all that, ‘Don’t drink and drive.’ stuff that’s supposed to keep you safe?”
“Right. Got it.” Xander yawned, stretching his arms above his head. “I think I need to hit the road. I’ve got a lot to think about.”
“Take the back roads. Less cops.”
“Typical cop-hating lawyer.” He shook his head with a tired smile. “But you’re not too bad.”
“You’re not too bad yourself. Drive safely.”
“I won’t.”
Xander tossed a bill that was way too much to cover his drinks on the counter.
“Take a tip and add the rest to my tab.” He grinned. “I’ll see you another time, Imogen.”
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22. Heart of the Forest (WODtober 2023)
Part 22 of my WODtober story. Taking the daily prompts and trying to weave a vampire story from them! In this chapter, Eliza reveals her identity to Imogen.
Word Count: 777 words.
CW: None I can think of!
Image by buffarches on Flickr.
Find the previous chapters here!
As they walked back to Imogen’s haven, with Imogen once again in control, she said: ‘Some of the things you did back there in the park … I’ve never seen them before. Never heard of them, either.’
I don’t doubt it, Eliza responded.
‘How did you do the thing with the tree?’ Imogen went on. ‘And all those animals - I mean, I know Miro can talk to rats, but you … it looked like you summoned everything in the park!’
You’re asking me about my powers, my Disciplines, Eliza said. So you’re asking me about my clan.
‘I suppose I am, yes,’ Imogen replied. ‘I mean, I think we’re way past worrying about good manners, the two of us.’
Eliza chuckled. I suppose we are. There was a long pause before she went on. My clan are very, very rare these nights. Many think us extinct. Many others hate us and wish us to be so. But we persevere … in dark, wild places where no other Cainite dare to venture for fear of Garou and Fae folk.
Imogen frowned. ‘Fae folk? Faeries?’ She laughed. ‘That’s something you’ll have to tell me about some other time.’
Ah, you sweet young thing, Eliza said teasingly. So innocent.
Imogen snorted. ‘Back to your clan. You’re making it sound like you’re some evil clan of satanic druids or something.’
Some think us so, Eliza replied. But the truth is simpler. We are Lhiannan. A clan of women only, who are deeply and vitally connected to the land. To our land - our homes. We do not wander, and we do not gather together, because we need our homes like we need blood. Away from them, we wither. But when we are within our lands, we can speak to the earth itself and do wonderful things.
Imogen considered this. ‘So that’s why you’re so mad at Harrogate,’ she said eventually. ‘He destroyed your home.’
Precisely, Eliza replied. And we fight to protect our homes.
‘So … what does that mean for you now? Will you … wither?’
While I am still a … passenger in your body, my connection to my land is not as vital as it once was, Eliza replied. I can endure without it. But the more I come forward, the more I need it. That park responded to me only a little, both because it is a false wilderness constructed by men, and because it is not my home. It cannot sustain me, or grant me the full extent of my powers. Only my land can do that. And when I am home…
‘You can bring down buildings,’ Imogen finished for her, remembering her story of what happened at the construction site.
Yes, I can. Eliza smiled. And it means something else too. That my land is not yet dead. Harrogate may have torn down the trees and ploughed the earth, laid concrete in the soil and poison in the waters, but it still lives. And if it still lives…
‘It can be revived,’ Imogen said, smiling.
Exactly.
‘So Harrogate hasn’t defeated you yet. And there’s still something to fight for.’
Exactly! Eliza sounded gleeful. I think you’re starting to understand me, Imogen.
Imogen shrugged. ‘I just understand what it’s like to lose everything,’ she replied, trying to keep the bitterness out of her voice. ‘At least you know who to blame.’
Eliza’s voice was quieter. I … am sorry, for my part in it, she said. It wasn’t meant to be you.
Imogen’s smile turned sour. ‘Yeah,’ she agreed. ‘I know. And Ed and Emily didn’t know you were in the tomb, and they were just trying to stitch up Harrogate anyway. So who do I blame?’
Harrogate. He put this all in motion.
‘You’re just saying that because you’re mad at him yourself. But he’s as good a person to blame as any.’ She paused and sighed. ‘And I know it sounds weird, but I really don’t care any more. I was never that good at being a vampire. I’m ready to be done with it all.’
An uncomfortable silence fell between them. To break it, Imogen asked: ‘Anyway. What will you do to bring your land back? That can’t be an easy job.’
It will need to be nurtured and allowed to go back to the wild, Eliza replied. Though I may have some trees planted. They take so long to grow. Though it’ll never be the way it was before. My beautiful forest. She sighed softly, her breath like a whisper in Imogen’s mind. I am grateful for your help, Imogen. Harrogate needs to pay for what he has done. To both of us.
#vamily#vampire the masquerade#vampire#vampirism#dark pack#world of darkness#vtm#vamptober#wodtober#wod#lhiannan
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A Thousand Years - Chapter 6
Edward wound his fingers through Kamber’s, finding her fingers vastly intriguing as the two lay in bed. Edward looked over at Kamber who looked on the verge of falling back asleep, her blue eyes half lidded and her red hair billowing around her on the pillow. The sheets just covered her stark-naked body and her face was still flushed from what they had done that night.
“You’re beautiful,” he whispered, bringing her hand to his mouth and kissing each of her fingers and then her palm.
Kamber smiled at him and waited till he kissed her palm before she touched his cheek with her fingers. His face was smooth and soft to the touch, but she could still feel the muscle when he smiled or clenched his jaw.
“Do you ever worry?” Edward asked, giving her a quizzical look. “Ever worry that you’ll lose someone.”
“Always,” Kamber replied. “Because I know death is inevitable whether it is tomorrow or next year or another fifty years, we will all die eventually, and it does worry me sometimes, but I have grown to accept it.”
“Why?” Edward asked, propping himself on his elbow.
The girl smiled and ran her fingers up and down his bare chest, “Because even if I do lose people physically, they will still be with me in my heart.”
Edward’s blue eyes flickered with pure adoration and love for the woman beside him. How had he gotten so lucky to have Kamber as his wife?
Edward wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her over till she was laying on top of him, “There is one thing you do not have to worry about ever.”
“And what is that?” Kamber asked, pushing her hair out of her face.
Edward smiled and reaching up, helped her remove the long black tresses from her hair before stroking her cheeks, “You’ll never lose me. Ever.”
A huge smile appeared on the girl’s face and Edward found himself grinning back before lifting his head to plant a strong kiss on her lips.
“I love you Edward,” Kamber whispered. “I always will….”
She was just about to continue when the look on her face changed from peaceful and happy to suddenly disturbed and somewhat sick.
“Kamber?” Edward asked.
Kamber held up a finger to tell him to wait a minute while she jumped from the bed and rounding it, ran to the bathroom. Edward was up in an instant and found the girl bending over the sink, emptying her stomach.
“Ugh,” the girl groaned into the sink, running the water to rinse out the smell.
“You okay?” Edward asked, wrapping his hand around her waist from behind. “I was too rough the other night wasn’t I?”
Kamber shook her head, “No it was great… I just feel funny.”
Edward frowned. It had been almost a week since they had arrived on the island and since Edward got over his beast state. Since then the love that the two shared at night was gentle and never too much for Kamber to handle. Edward felt that something was off.
The girl sighed before filling her mouth with water from the sink and rinsing her mouth out. She stood up before turning to face Edward. She froze when she saw that his face had changed to one of deep thought and sudden realization.
“Edward? What’s wrong?” she asked, coming to take his hand.
“Kamber,” Edward breathed, his voice coming out hoarse. “Your parents were able to have you and your siblings because your mother was a werewolf, right?”
Kamber nodded, not sure where this was going.
“So….” Edward whispered hoarsely, “Does that mean you could get pregnant too?”
Kamber snapped back, not expecting that at all but realizing that it could be possible. Her hands shot down to her stomach and felt it gently. It truly felt different… like she had added a little weight. Looking back at Edward, Kamber raced past him into the bedroom and grabbed up her phone. She was just about to dial when it began to ring.
“Hello?” she asked, answering it.
“Kamber,” a familiar voice whispered.
“Vanessa?” Kamber asked into the phone, “What’s wrong?”
“I just saw you in a dream,” the little girl replied. “You and Edward seemed really shocked. Is everything okay?”
Kamber looked over at where Edward was staring at her, mouth still slightly agape and eyes slightly wide. “Yeah everything’s okay Vanessa….”
“Oh, here’s Alice,” Vanessa interrupted. “She wants to talk to you.”
Almost immediately Alice came onto the phone and almost screamed Kamber’s ear off. “KAMBER!!!! What is going on!? When Vanessa told us what she saw, I checked your future…. Kamber…. There were children….”
Kamber lifted her eyes and looked back at Edward, “Was I there too?”
“Yeah!” Alice cried, her voice showing volumes of excitement, “it was amazing! It was you and Edward…. And you had multiple kids!”
A huge smile spread across Kamber’s face before she returned to the phone, “Alice, can you put Carlisle on real quick?”
There was a pause before Carlisle’s voice came on, “Hello Kamber. Is what Alice said true? You’re pregnant?”
“I believe so,” Kamber breathed. “I’m showing the symptoms and since my mother was fertile… I might be. I have a question though….”
“What is it?”
“Since I am part vampire, wouldn’t that mean that I would be able to withstand the birth of a part vampire child?”
Carlisle chuckled into the phone, “Considering the fact that you are part vampire does mean that you are more resilient to pain and stress and strain than a human would be. Also, since your child would only be part Vampire, then it would mean the child would not be as strong as a pure blood vampire… so yes. Just as your mother was able to bear half vampire children, you will be able to bear children who are ¾ vampire. You have vampire in your blood unlike your mother. Everything will be fine Kamber.”
The girl let out a contented sigh before thanking Carlisle and turning the phone off. Turning around, she saw that Edward’s expression hadn’t changed once. The girl crossed the room before taking his hands into hers and holding them beneath her chin before looking up at him.
“Hey Edward? How do you feel about being a father?”
Edward’s eyes widened even more than they were, and his mouth flopped open all the way, “But you could die….”
Kamber shook her head, “I’m part vampire remember? If my mom who wasn’t vampire was able to bear half vampires, I can bear your child.”
“But….do you think it’s possible… that you’re….” Edward whispered.
The girl smiled before kissing his knuckles gently, “Alice just said she saw my future… we will have lots of kids Edward.”
The girl was barely able to get the words out before she was brought into a smothering hug where Edward clutched her face to his chest, peppering her head and cheeks with kisses.
“Gosh darn it I love you so much,” he whispered against her forehead before crashing his lips onto hers.
Kamber smiled into the kiss before slipping her arms around his back. Edward released her suddenly, his eyes widening before he got down on his knees. He laid a hand on her stomach before looking up at her.
“I can hear something…. not voices just yet…. But whispers…. They’re too quiet to hear but I can hear them.”
Kamber smiled down at him with pure love and adoration, running her fingers through his hair, “They want to meet their father.”
Edward let out a choked cry before burying his face against her waist, holding her close. He shed tears that trickled down onto the floor and Kamber loved him for it.
****************
Edward chewed on the knuckle of his pointer finger. He was pacing back and forth as he watched Carlisle give Kamber her daily checkup. Her pregnancy had been ‘short’ to say the least. She had only been pregnant four weeks and already she looked ready to burst any minute. Carlisle checked the girl’s temperature before nodding and patting the girl’s hand.
Alice and Rosalie had been shadowing Kamber like hawks since she and Edward had returned two weeks ago…. Of course, they couldn’t follow her to bed since that was Edward’s only time, he could have with her without the two-breaking in. Though, Edward had a sneaking suspicion that the two girls had Emmett and Jasper remain guard outside the door all night long.
“You’re good,” Carlisle replied. “The little one is growing quite nicely.”
The man stood up and walking away from the girl, approached his son. “What is troubling you?”
“The growth,” Edward whispered. “The baby is growing so fast…how is it not affecting Kamber?”
“Because she is strong Edward,” Carlisle replied. “In having werewolf in her blood, she was designed to be able to carry a child and with the vampire blood, she has the resilience to carry a child whose father is a vampire.”
Edward ran his fingers through his hair but stopped mid stroke when he felt a pair of eyes on him. Looking up, he saw Kamber watching him quizzically with her big blue eyes and a smile on her face. Edward was across the room and sitting beside her in an instant. The Cullens and Vicasi’s took the message and scuttered out of the room to give the two a moment.
“What’s troubling you?” Edward asked, placing his arm around her shoulders.
Kamber reached up and tapped the space between Edward’s eyebrows, “That crease on your forehead is troubling me. What’s wrong?”
Edward sighed and leant back against the couch, letting his head flop back, “I feel like I should be happy about our having a child, but I cannot seem to relax when you’re getting bigger by the day…. And you’re due to go into labor any day now.”
He felt Kamber move and when he tilted his head to look at her, he saw that she had laid back against him and had closed her eyes, nuzzling her face into his arm.
“Everything is going to be okay Edward. I promise.”
*********
“Man, you won’t do Kamber or the baby any good if you break down the house on top of them!” Jasper reasoned.
Edward glared at his brother, his fist still in the dent that he had made in the wall. Esme and Mrs. Vicasi had thrown all the boys outside while sending Imogen and Antigone to take the little kids to visit the Blacks.
The screams of Kamber coming from Carlisle’s medical room could be heard throughout the whole house. The moment her first scream had reached Edward’s ears; it had been too late for Emmett and Jasper to take him out for a hunt.
“I’m not doing them any good staying out here doing nothing either!” Edward snapped at his brother.
Jasper and Emmett looked over at Vince and Glynn for help but the two were just as bad as Edward. They were pacing back and forth at the same time but going opposite directions so every few minutes they would almost collide before going right back to pacing.
When the room suddenly quieted down and Kamber’s screams faded, the five boys froze and waited with bated breath as they stared at the door. However, the silence was short lived when Kamber’s screams returned and that seemed to snap Edward’s last ounce of patience.
Pushing past the other four guys, he slammed his foot into the door, and it flew open on the hinges. Carlisle, Esme, Mrs. Vicasi and Mr. Vicasi all looked up from where they had been surrounding Kamber on the bed. Smiles all appeared on their faces and they turned to face the flustered and infuriated vampire.
Alice and Rosalie appeared from where they had been standing off to the side and Edward stared in shock when he saw a small child in Rosalie’s arms.
“Say hello to your son Edward,” Rosalie said, approaching her brother.
Edward slowly took a step toward her before Rosalie handed him the baby. The boy was so small that he was small enough to fit in both of Edward’s hands.
“So, you were the one who made all this fuss huh?” he asked, cradling his son to his chest before planting a soft kiss on his forehead.
“Edward,” Carlisle spoke up.
Edward lifted his head to see his father step to the side to reveal Kamber sitting up on the bed, leaning against the pillows…. And another baby in her arms!
Edward slowly walked across the room, his son still in his arms. He looked down at his wife to see her smiling up at him with bright blue eyes that were hazed over from exhaustion, a small baby resting against her chest.
“Twin boys,” Carlisle said, clapping his son on the shoulder. “Congratulations.”
Edwards slowly sank to his knees next to the bed, glad that it was low, so he was able to rest his arms and the baby on the edge of the bed. He was afraid he was going to drop the child. Kamber reached over and kissed Edward on the forehead before kissing the forehead of the baby he held.
“This is Hunter,” She said, nodding toward the baby Edward held. “And this is Viggo.”
Edward slowly lifted his head from where he had been looking down at Hunter to reveal that tears were streaming down his face.
“I love you so much Kamber,” he whispered, leaning up to kiss her firmly on the mouth. “So much.”
Kamber smiled down at him before kissing him softly on the lips before resting her head against his shoulder, “I love you too.”
************
Edward looked up from his computer where he was job hunting. He was hoping to actually find a career like Carlisle had but, in the meantime, he wanted to find a job he could do while he attended college. He was seriously considering medicine since it was easy to move around when people got suspicious about his aging.
He frowned in frustration when he got another email from an employer, he had contacted who refused to give him work. He had asked at least twenty people and they all said no. Some of them were car dealers, agencies in need of a typist and even a lifeguard since he had his certificate. All direct no’s with no explanation.
His fingers froze on the keys when he heard the sound of a cry. Jumping up and racing upstairs to the nursery, he burst through the door. Alice, Rosalie and Kamber were all sitting on the floor together watching the twins try to sit up on their own.
The twins were growing so fast but Alice had contacted an old friend of theirs who wasn’t pure vampire and he had told them that he stopped growing at the age of 18 so there was no worry about the twins’ growth.
“What happened?” Edward asked.
“Oh, Hunter was just upset because he couldn’t reach Viggo,” Kamber replied, smiling at her husband.
“Easy there Ed,” Emmett remarked from where he sat in the rocking chair. “You’re acting like a werewolf who imprinted!”
Edward glared at him, but Emmett just smirked.
“I’m going to go out for a bit,” Edward said, coming over to crouch beside Kamber.
“Okay,” the girl said, kissing his cheek. “Be safe.”
Edward nodded before reaching over and kissing Hunter and Viggo on the head before running out of the room. Alice frowned at her brother’s wake while Rosalie looked at Kamber.
“Is it just me or has Edward been acting weird the past two weeks?” she asked.
“It’s not just you,” Jasper replied, finally returning from under the bed where Viggo had lost a ball. “He has been weird. He keeps ‘going out’ for hours and doesn’t come back till late and the twins are already in bed by then. He isn’t as cheerful as he used to be.”
Kamber nodded, “Usually he would lay with me and the twins when we were sleeping but now, he just sits in the corner and when I wake up, he’s long gone.”
The girl was silent a moment before picking up Hunter who had started to whine for, he was hungry, “it’s probably nothing.”
The four Cullens watched the girl as she began to feed the baby before exchanging looks. Kamber may be married to Edward but that only made her want to trust Edward unconditionally. However, his siblings could tell that he was keeping something from all of them and worst of all, from Kamber.
*******
“I already told you I cannot hire you,” The mechanic at the car dealers replied.
“I know,” Edward replied. “But that is all the email said. You didn’t tell me if it was my resume, my reliability or that you had no need of help and from the looks of things, you need help.”
The mechanic looked around the shop and sure enough, his two employees were in need of help.
The man was about to speak when something caught his eye behind Edward before he shook his head, “I’m sorry but we cannot take you.”
He turned away, but Edward had noticed the man’s change in behavior. He quickly looked over his shoulder only to see a person standing at the door wearing a black shirt, black pants and a baseball cap over her face.
Edward strode after the person who didn’t back down and when Edward reached him, he realized who it was.
“So, you’re the one behind this,” He hissed.
Bella smirked at him. “It was the easiest way to get your attention.”
“Well you got it,” Edward snapped. “Why are you doing this?”
“I told my dad to set up a rumor with all employees that no one was allowed to hire you. With my dad being the chief and all….”
Edward grabbed the girl by the shoulders. “I asked you why not how.”
Bella flashed him a flirty smile before grabbing his hand and pulling him out of the shop. Edward followed begrudgedly until the girl pushed him into a nearby alley and placed herself flush against him, his back to the wall.
“Bella what are you doing?” He asked angrily.
The girl ignored him and pressed her leg between his thighs before standing on tiptoe and planting a wet kiss on his lips. Edward grabbed her shoulders and pushed her off him.
“I am married, we are no longer together, and I don’t even have feelings for you so back off.”
“And what if I threaten to make sure that you never find a job?” Bella asked, smirking as she took her cap off and threw it to the side.
“I’ll learn medicine from Carlisle. I don’t have to work until after college,” Edward replied stiffly.
Bella nodded, “and what about the secret I know about you?”
“Even if you told everyone we could just move,” Edward replied.
Bella chuckled. “But then you would be on the run. Your names, faces and identities would be known to the world and you wouldn’t be safe anywhere.”
She reached up on tippy toes and planted a kiss on his neck but Edward glared. “What do you want?”
“You,” Bella whispered. “Be mine for a month and I won’t tell a soul and I will leave your life after that.”
Edward groaned, “One month and you cannot tell Kamber about this.”
Bella nodded, “Agreed.”
She wrapped her arms around his neck and crashed her lips to his. Edward sighed. If this was what it took to live a happy normal life with the twins and Kamber, he would do it. He pushed off from the wall and pressed Bella’s back to the wall, kissing her back.
******************
Kamber sat up with a start. She looked around the room and saw that Edward wasn’t there. He had left the night before saying he had to go do something and he still wasn’t back, and it was almost five. Looking to her left she saw both the twins lying next to her, curled up against her sides with their chubby little cheeks pressed into her arms.
She smiled down at the two who could have been mistaken for one-year old little toddlers. They were already beginning to walk on their own and had been able to decipher that ‘mama’ referred to Kamber and ‘da’ referred to Edward…. Though Kamber noticed with a heavy heart that they would call the latter in their sleep and would oftentimes wake up from nightmares. They missed him just as much as she did, and she knew it was taking a toll on them.
They had developed a taste for fresh meat as well as a taste for human food. However, their thirst for blood only came once every few days and when that did, Emmett and Jasper would take the two little ones out and would catch them a bird or something small and would carefully watch the two while they ate. Hunter and Viggo’s thirst for blood was very minimal and when they did get the thirst for blood, they wouldn’t go into a rampage and drink everything they could get their hands on. In fact, when they were thirsty, they acted just…. Thirsty like they needed a cup of water and once they had downed at least a quart of blood, they were back to their happy, joyful little selves.
Of course, Alice was a little disappointed they weren’t girls and didn’t like to be dressed up or didn’t have the hair to style every day but after Rosalie came home with bags full of boy clothes and shoes, the two girls went into a rage of giving the boys adorable outfits every day. Luckily, the twins adored their aunts so much that they didn’t mind. Honestly, they liked trying on the new clothes that their aunts got them…. Unless Vince and Glynn came over for a visit and gave them identical outfits then no one could tell the two apart except Kamber!
The two boys were very honest and practically worshiped their mother. Kamber just said it was a normal child’s love for their mother, but everyone knew it was more than that. To the twins, Kamber was an angel…. A warrior because she was always at their side, even when Edward was not, and she was strong even when she was alone.
Kamber silently moved over, about to get out of bed when Viggo let out a soft whimper and gripped her arm, his forehead scrunching in fear.
Kamber reached over and stroked his hair but then Hunter whimpered as well. They were having a nightmare. Kamber had discovered rather quickly that the two boys had joined minds. Carlisle had confirmed it when Viggo had guessed what Hunter was going to do even across the room. At first Kamber thought they had inherited their father’s gift of reading minds but after testing it on Viggo and Jasper, and Hunter with Emmett nothing happened. Then of course Kamber had noticed that whenever one of them had a dream, the other did as well and when she asked them about it in the morning, it was the same exact dream.
They were able to sense everything about the other even if they were miles apart. They had tested how far they could be apart by having Emmett travel to town with Rosalie and Viggo while they kept Hunter at home and the two could still communicate. Kamber had found it rather helpful especially if the two were apart, she could tell what was happening to the other by asking the one with her.
Kamber gently scooped Viggo up and placed him on the other side of her so she was lying between them, one arm wrapped around each as they snuggled close to her chest. She always knew that singing a song to them would help their minds clear of any dreams and they would place their ears close to her heart so they could feel the vibration of her voice.
Let the bough break, let it come down crashing
Let the sun fade out to a dark sky
I can't say I'd even notice it was absent
Cause I could live by the light in your eyes
I'll unfold before you
What I've strung together
The very first words
Of a lifelong love letter
Tell the world that we finally got it all right
I choose you
I will become yours and you will become mine
I choose you
I choose you
(Yeah)
There was a time when I would have believed them
If they told me you could not come true
Just love's illusion
But then you found me and everything changed
And I believe in something again
My whole heart
Will be yours forever
This is a beautiful start
To a lifelong love letter
Tell the world that we finally got it all right
I choose you
I will become yours and you will become mine
I choose you
I choose you
We are not perfect
We'll learn from our mistakes
And as long as it takes
I will prove my love to you
I am not scared of the elements
I am under-prepared, but I am willing
And even better
I get to be the other half of you
Tell the world that we finally got it all right
I choose you
Yeah
I will become yours and you will become mine
I choose you
I choose you
I choose you
Kamber let out a sigh as she finished the song, seeing the twins had settled back to peaceful sleep with smiles on their faces. Kamber leant back against the pillows even though she was not tired.
“I choose you,” she whispered. “But do you still choose me?”
*****************
Edward felt about ready to throw up. Since he had agreed to spend time with Bella in exchange for Bella leaving him and his family alone, he had probably brushed his teeth and washed his face more often than even Alice and Rosalie! He was sitting on the couch in Bella’s apartment, not allowed to move as Bella enjoyed herself.
The moment Edward learnt that Bella now lived on her own in an apartment in town, he had told the girl that they were not going to have relations and the only thing Bella was allowed to do to him was kiss and fondle. That was it. The girl had begrudgedly agreed, but Edward almost wished he had asked her to not kiss him either. Her kisses weren’t sweet and gentle like Kamber’s when she was comforting him or being sweet or saying goodnight, nor were they strong, firm and passionate when she tried to convey how much she loved him or to snap him out of a temper or thirst he couldn’t control. These kisses were full of lust, most of the times wet and full of tongue.
Bella shifted on her spot where she was sitting next to Edward and climbed onto his lap to straddle him. She slipped her hands behind his neck and partially under his collar to pull his head up toward her. Edward knew that if he tried to resist then Bella would break their agreement and who knows what Bella would do. He wasn’t going to destroy Kamber and his family’s life because he wasn’t strong enough to deal with Bella’s advances. It was just two more weeks anyway and he would be free of her.
Bella latched her lips onto Edward’s making loud smacking sounds as her lips left his then latched on again. She let out little whimpers and moans but none of them turned Edward on. Her tongue touched Edward’s lips and he had the urge to refuse her, but the girl gave him a pointed look and groaning inwardly, Edward parted his lips. The girl thrust her tongue into his mouth and explored all of his mouth with her tongue, moving her head around to get better angles as her lips kept smacking with his.
The girl began to rock her hips against Edward’s leg, moaning and grunting against his mouth.
Finally, Edward had just about enough especially when Bella slipped one hand toward his pants. He roughly pushed her off and stood up, grabbing his jacket.
“Your hour time limit is up. I’m going home.”
Bella sneered at the man, lounging on the couch. “What if I tell you I am considering shortening your contract?”
Edward paused in the doorway before looking at her. “And the catch?”
“No catch,” Bella replied, smirking. “Except one day where you actually enjoy my advances.”
“Like that would happen,” Edward replied, rolling his eyes and pulling on his jacket.
“I don’t mean that you have to like it, just act like it.”
Edward turned and looked at her with eyes flaring with fury, “Like play along and return your advances? Is this all a game to you?”
Bella smiled and trailed her fingers along the back of the couch. “If you do for just one day, I will cut back your contract a week.”
“I would rather not,” Edward replied. “Besides, I almost think you would blackmail me later.”
“How about this then?” Bella asked. “I’ll give you three choices. The one I just mentioned… or, you act like your madly in love with me and return all my advances for three days and pretend you are on a ‘business trip’ and stay with me all of the three days….”
“And what’s the third?” Edward asked, not liking either of the two suggestions she had offered.
“You sleep with me for one night and we’ll call it done,” Bella replied.
Edward snorted, “The last one is never going to happen.”
Bella shrugged, “It was worth the try. Either you be mine for three days, but nothing beyond cuddling, kissing and fondling and in return your contract is over…. Or you return my advances for one day and you get one week off…. And possible blackmail afterwards.”
Edward sighed. Both were worse than the other. He couldn’t risk getting put into another blackmail contract for longer so he decided, “I’ll tell Kamber I am on a business trip but if you so much as breathe a word of this to anyone or go against your side of the bargain, I will personally see that you aren’t able to breathe anything.”
He saw a flicker of fear in the girl’s eyes but she hid it well before nodding, “Agreed. See you in two days.”
When Edward returned home about fifteen minutes later, he found Emmett sitting at the table where Alice where she was trying to teach him how to make paper crafts while Viggo sat on Emmett’s lap, correcting Emmett’s clumsy attempts with accuracy.
Meanwhile, on the floor Rosalie was watching Jasper and Hunter play chess, acting as the referee since Hunter’s talent in chess was making Jasper try to sneak in a few cheat moves.
The twins looked up when their father entered, and their faces lit up. Both scurried away from their aunts and uncles and rushed over to him, wrapping their arms around his legs. Both boys looked like they could be about three or four years old even though they were barely two months old. Both had rustic light reddish-brown hair from Edward and bright blue eyes from Kamber.
Edward knelt down in front of them and pulled them both into a smothering hug, burying his face in their hair and inhaling their scent. They smelt of cedar wood and fresh linen. He gave each of them a kiss on the head before releasing them to look at their fully.
“What’s wrong daddy?” Viggo asked, looking at his father quizzically. “You’re acting sad.”
Edward smiled and gently ruffled his son’s hair, “I have to go on a trip tomorrow evening.”
“For how long?” Hunter asked, his eyes widening in surprise. “What for?”
“Just for three days,” Edward replied. “It’s for work.”
“You found a job?” Viggo asked, surprised. “I thought you were going to be a doctor like Grandpa Carlisle.”
Edward smiled before pinching Viggo’s cheek. Since when did he become so smart? “Yeah I am, but until I finish medical school, I want to get a job.”
“Okay daddy,” Hunter whispered, sensing that Viggo was still not quite believing their father’s excuse.
Viggo looked over at Hunter and sensed that Hunter was trying to not start a tense conversation, so he nodded too.
Edward smiled before kissing them both on the forehead, “Better go back to your aunts and uncles before they burst a bubble. I’m going to find your mother.”
“She’s upstairs having reading time,” Viggo announced.
Edward nodded before hugging his sons and heading upstairs. When he burst into the room, Kamber looked up from where she had been reading a book on the bed with the bedside light on. She looked up and smiled at Edward.
“You’re home early!” she remarked, closing her book. “How did everything g….”
She never finished her sentence for Edward practically flew across the room and tackled the girl to the bed, crashing his lips onto hers. Kamber stared in surprise as Edward drew back, his hands on either side of her head keeping him up and he was already breathing heavily.
“What happened?” she asked.
Edward shook his head, “Nothing…. I just…. I need you right now.”
Kamber bit the inside of her lip. She wanted to refuse him and demand that he tell her what was going on but the urgent, desperate look in his eyes made her stop and biting back her suspicion, she nodded and gently kissed him.
Edward pressed her hard to the bed, making sure he could feel all of her beneath him as he filled his breathing with her scent and gently devoured her mouth. He was going to be stuck with Bella for three long days in Seattle (the place she had chosen for his ‘business trip’) and had to pretend to be madly in love with Bella for those long three days. He wasn’t going to leave until he was sure that he had Kamber filling his senses. It was the only thing that was going to keep him from going mad.
Kamber was shocked at his strangely desperate, passionate behavior but she felt that he was trying to erase something from his memory, so she let him. That night Alice had sensed something was up so she had the twins bunk with her and Jasper for the night, leaving Edward and Kamber to their long, passionate and desperate time together. For, she had a feeling that what was going to follow wasn’t good.
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Text
Welcome to Technasia Ch 6
The rain never seemed to let up in this area of Litigia, as the ground was constantly a muddy morass. Cars rarely came through, as they had extreme trouble navigating the broken roads; horses were the preferred method of transportation. Those foolhardy enough to drive would usually come to regret their decision, especially if they wore expensive clothing.
These regrets were beginning to burrow their way into the mind of Lord Bruxien Jair, as for the fifth time his car had started spinning its wheels, caught in another muddy rut. “Fucking mud,” he screamed at no one in particular. “Poe, you ass, why do you have to live in this Godforsaken place?”
The reverie was interrupted, finally, by the approach of a stocky horse through the downpour, its rider dressed in a rubberized suit. The rider waved toward the trapped car. “Ho there, Lord Jair! May I offer you assistance?”
Lord Jair plopped a wide brimmed hat on his head and stepped out of the car. “You can kiss my ass, Lord Poe. Why call me out here anyway? You know I hate … well, filth of all kinds.”
Lord Vriant Poe laughed at the insistence. “The way you eat, I wouldn’t have had the slightest idea of it. Come, we have much to discuss. Inperia’s daughter is a Princess and we have to move.”
Lord Poe offered a hand down to Lord Jair, who clutched to his fellow Lord’s forearm to climb up on the horse. They rode through the downpour at the most convenient speed; that is, convenient for Poe, who was used to the inclement weather of his home.
“Any way we can speed this thing along?” Lord Jair grumbled under his breath.
“If you want to be bucked off, I can speed Griffin up. Otherwise, you keep my pace and be thankful I don’t leave you face-first in a ditch.” The horse continued to lope along, as Lord Poe kept careful control over him. After far too long for Lord Jair’s taste, the horse finally made his way into the barn of Poe Estates.
The Poe family home was a sprawling, palatial mansion, befitting what could have been the wealthiest family in all of Litigia. The house itself spread for seemingly miles in either direction from the front façade, and stretched equally as far back, the very end of it terminating at the offices for Lord Poe’s family company. The two Lords slogged their way from the front all the way to Lord Poe’s private office, just before the main company offices. Servant women rushed up to the men to take their wet outer coats, to tend to their needs, and eventually to bring steaming hot mugs of coffee.
Lord Jair pinched a comely servant girl on the backside as she was leaving the room. She made a giggling noise and rushed out. He turned to his host. “Vriant, I have to say, you have excellent taste in servants. I can’t get a decent looking piece of tail to work for me, and it’s been years since any of mine have been under the age of 40.”
Lord Poe sipped on his cup. “They serve me well. They’re good for fun times.” He picked up a document from his desk. “Here, take a look at this.”
Lord Jair took the offered sheet of paper, clutching it in both hands after setting his mug down on the floor next to him. “Hm, where did this missive come from?”
Lord Poe chuckled. “The King might have his diplomats, but I have my own sources in Technasia. This is what I know about Hunt Inperia’s daughter.” He set his eyes intensely on Lord Jair. “This does not leave this room. Do you understand this? I do not want King Turdburglar having any angle on this information.”
Lord Jair chuckled. “Certainly.” He focused on the text of the missive.
Hunt Inperia’s daughter is Imogen, or “Tuck” as she is known to both friends and customers, an inventor who continues to operate the family’s gadget shop in the capital city. She appears to have just as much, if not more, knowledge of engineering and design as her father. Imogen was born without a left forearm and elbow; her father and the deceased Princess of Medicine designed a prosthesis for her, but Imogen has improved its design every time she has had to change it over her lifetime.
“A one-armed Princess? That sounds like a euphemism for one of my slot machines.” Lord Jair laughed.
“Is there nothing you won’t joke about?” Lord Poe stood up suddenly, which startled Lord Jair. “This woman has managed to weaponize her arm! Can’t you see that? What do you think my contact means by ‘improved,’ huh?”
“She runs a gadget shop, Vriant, why are we worried about a glorified toymaker?”
Lord Poe rubbed his eyes with frustration, pulling a file out of his desk. “Look at this. I’ve kept this for years, because I figured it would come in handy one day.”
Lord Jair took the folder from his annoyed fellow Lord. He flipped through it. Stacks and stacks of diagrams, descriptions, and schematics met the Lord’s gaze. Imposing diagrams of weapons. Projected weapon actions. Long, detailed reports of weapons being tested in the field, weapons being used in actual combat.
“Is that enough for you to take this seriously now?” Lord Poe had his arms crossed as he leaned against the desk.
Lord Jair sighed and tossed the file back toward Lord Poe. “So what now? There’s still no guarantee that she’s going to make Guerrania weapons.”
“Maybe not, but are you willing to take the risk?” Lord Poe pulled out a hand slate. “Again, this does not leave this room. I have my contact on standby in Technasia, ready to go. We can eliminate this threat with a single missive.”
Lord Jair’s brow was wet, now not from the rain but from nerves. “This is an act of war. You’re ready to plunge us into that again?”
Lord Poe gritted his teeth. “If I don’t do this, war is guaranteed the minute Inperia’s daughter makes her first weapon and Guerrania has an orgasm over it. Again, is this a risk that you are willing to take?”
Lord Jair stood up. His size was imposing, as he cleared Lord Poe by a head. “I am. I’m not ready to fight, Vriant, none of my men are. You also forget your place, and your council.”
“What, you expect me to wait on Lord Moethran and our ladyboy Prince? I’m sorry, I can’t fathom what they’re going to do that a surgical assassination won’t.”
Lord Jair slapped the hand slate out of Lord Poe’s hand. “But next to the King and Prince Guent, I am the next in line for the Council. And I say we wait. End of story.” Lord Jair turned quickly toward the door. “Now take me back to my car with a team of horses to drag me out of your goddamned mudhole.”
The office door slammed. Lord Poe sat back down behind his desk, bending over to pick up his hand slate from where Lord Jair had knocked it out of his hand. He tapped another missive into the device.
OPERATION ON PAUSE PENDING APPROVAL
Unlike others, when Lord Umbrient Qine came to the throne room of King Turgen, he did so with confidence as befitting his position. The invitation was clutched tightly in his hand as he strode through the darkness, through the inconsistent shafts of sunlight, and straight to the foot of King Turgen’s throne. He knelt down before the King.
“My Liege, Lord Protector, you have summoned me?”
The figure in the throne leaned into the light. Not King Turgen, though, it was Prince Guent. “I did, Lord Qine. You may rise.”
Lord Qine bristled visibly, having stood on too much ceremony for the Prince. “What can I do to be of service to the Throne, Your Highness?”
Prince Guent slung a leg over one arm of the throne, resting his elbow on the other, his chin in his hand. “Tell me, what is your relationship with Lord Moethran? You two are always so buddy-buddy in the Council meetings.”
Lord Qine smiled sheepishly. “I wouldn’t call it a ‘relationship’ such as it is, rather it’s more of an alliance.”
“Really?” The Prince raised his head. “An alliance for what purpose?”
Lord Qine shrugged. No reason not to be honest, he figured. “She feels marginalized on the Council. I can understand that, considering the hit her house took when her father died.”
Prince Guent scoffed. “Well, her stupid father should’ve known better than to have daughters rather than sons, otherwise her house would still be number two.” The Prince laughed. “Which it is already, come to think of it.”
Lord Qine did not laugh at the Prince’s crude joke at Lord Moethran’s expense. “Your Highness, despite the drop of the House of Moethran’s prestige, it is still a noble house, and she feels she should have as much of a position on the Council as any of the male Lords.”
Prince Guent sat up in his seat at this. “Do you know what she’s good for?” He smirked darkly, reaching over and ringing a bell. A side door opened and two servant girls, scantily dressed with choker necklaces, ran to the Prince, taking up positions on either side of him and wrapping themselves around him in a suggestive manner. “She’s good for exactly what any woman is good for. Isn’t that right girls?”
The two servant girls giggled. Or at least both of them giggled until a harsh tone sounded, and a red light appeared on one girl’s choker. She shook her head. “What do you mean, what any woman is good for?”
Prince Guent slapped away the suddenly defiant servant girl. She ran out of the room. The other one remained wrapped around the Prince, still giggling, although her face showed her emotional pain. The Prince turned back toward Lord Qine. “I don’t ever see why my father didn’t just slap a giggler on Lord Moethran to shut her the fuck up. That woman doesn’t deserve her place on the Council.”
Lord Qine seethed internally. He tried to keep his voice controlled as he responded, but it was difficult. “Your Highness, Lord Moethran’s birthright earns her a Council seat. Her father’s inability to have sons has no bearing on her work with us, or whether she earned her position or not.” Lord Qine scoffed. “After all, you should know about earned positions, shouldn’t you? After how you’ve treated your brother …”
Prince Guent raced up and clamped his hand around Lord Qine’s mouth. “You would be well advised to choose your next words very carefully, Lord Qine. Your position will not save you from the axman if you continue this treasonous line of thought.” His voice lowered to a growl. “My fairy brother has no claim to this throne. He is not the chosen one of my father. I am.” The Prince pushed Lord Qine to the floor. Lord Qine dusted himself off as he stood back up. The Prince returned to his seat and his waiting servant girl in the throne. “Now … tell me more about Lord Moethran’s attitudes and her loyalties. Will she do the work my father asks her to?”
Lord Qine fingered his jaw gently. “She will, Your Highness. Whatever grudge she holds against the social climate of Litigia does not override her loyalty to the state. She will get the information on the Inperia girl.”
“She had better,” Prince Guent chuffed. “That’s all, Lord Qine. Again, do be sure to check that attitude of yours in my presence in the future, are we clear?”
Lord Qine’s eyebrows lowered into a glower. “Crystal clear, Your Highness.” He clicked his heels together, turned sharply, and strode away from the throne and back out of the throne room. Behind him he heard the mechanical giggling of the servant girl and the Prince’s lustful grunts echoing off of the walls; it was all he could do to exit the long, dark chamber without getting violently ill.
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