#the demo updated and im so excited to read it so here she is!
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We Were Something, Don’t You Think So? [Chapter 10: London]
You are a Russian grand duchess in a time of revolution. Ben Hardy is a British government official tasked with smuggling you across Europe. You don’t hate each other at all.
This is a work of fiction loosely inspired by the events of the Russian Revolution and the downfall of the Romanov family. Many creative liberties were taken. No offense is meant to any actual people. Thank you for reading! :)
A/N: Wow I really pulled a George R. R. Martin and just never updated my story, didn’t I?! I return now with no excuses but with plenty of excitement to at last be giving this fic the ending it deserves. There are only two more chapters left! As always, thank you so very much for reading. 💜
Song inspiration: “the 1” by Taylor Swift.
Chapter warnings: Language, mentions of war and violence, sexual content (not graphic).
Word count: 9k. She chonky.
Link to chapter list (and all my writing): HERE.
Taglist: @imtheinvisiblequeen @okilover02 @adrenaline-roulette @youngpastafanmug @m-1234 @tensecondvacation @haileymorelikestupid @rogerfuckintaylor @yourlocalmusicalprostitute @im-an-adult-ish @someforeigntragedy @mo-whore @mellowfellowyellow @peculiareunoia @mischiefmanaged71 @fancybenjamin @anne-white-star @theonlyone-meeeee @witchlyboo @demo-wise
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“You are sneaky,” Joe says. He holds his cappuccino in one hand and wags a finger at me with the other. It took Mr. Lee’s kitchen staff a week to learn how to make a halfway decent cappuccino—I’m not sure if Joe’s passionate coaching was more of an asset or a distraction—and now he orders no less than four a day. “You are very sneaky. But not sneaky enough to fool me.”
I flip a page in the book Ben gave me, the one about British kings and queens. There’s a lot of information about the queens, he was right about that. Overhead the leaves are golden and oche and fluttering in the October wind; there is a softness to everything in London, the air and the sky and the trees and the people. It is unlike Russia in even more ways than I had remembered, in more ways than I could ever count. Joe and I are sitting in the courtyard behind Mr. Lee’s six-bedroom house and attempting to cultivate an appreciation for what the kitchen staff proudly call the Full English Breakfast: sausage, bacon, fried eggs, baked beans, tomatoes, mushrooms, toast, ketchup, and a menacing hunk of black pudding, which is just a kinder name for grains mixed with pig blood. I’m sure Joe is fantasizing about biscotti and frittatas every bit as much as I’m missing blini and kasha. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I say, quite dishonestly.
“Why must you lie to me, Lana bella donna?” Joe sighs. “There is no sense in this deceit. I know it already, assolutamente. I told you. My people are fluent in love.”
Here’s what he means: we’ve been guests of Mr. Lee for two weeks now, and each night—even after Mr. Lee and his wife have retired to their wing of the house, even after the footsteps of the maids and butlers and flocks of Sealyham Terriers have quieted—I lie awake alone in my queen-sized bed and Ben is nowhere to be found. Meeting him again in secret is too risky, this goes without saying. There can be no whispers that ripen to be sold and bitten into once I have unveiled myself publicly and married into the British royal family. And yet, still, there are moments, fleeting trivial things that I had believed no one else saw: the way Ben laughs at even my clumsiest attempts at jokes, the way I graze his hand with mine each time he passes me a cup or a plate, the way he watches me from across the dinner table when he thinks I’m not paying attention. I crave him all the time, I am consumed by thoughts of him, I am acutely aware of where he stands in every room…and then sometimes I look at Ben and something about him makes me so profoundly miserable I almost wish I’d never met him at all. Almost. “It’s an infatuation. Nothing more. Like Papa and Mathilde.”
“Who?”
“Never mind.” I dip a corner of buttered toast into the yielding, viscous egg yolk, golden like the sun and the leaves, like my impending future. Yet I find my appetite for gilded things to be dwindling. I peer up at Joe. “Do you think less of me?”
He shrugs with a wry smile. “I am but a humble deserter of my ancestral homeland. I have no judgement in me for anyone. Not you, not Ben, not countries or governments or armies, not revolutionaries. But the mess of it all does hold a certain sadness, no?”
“Yes. I suppose it holds a great deal of sadness.”
“Stai attento,” Joe says gently. His knowing dark eyes say it too. Be careful.
“You’re the one who wanted me to be nicer to him.”
“Yes, but you are between two worlds. And embracing one means slitting the throat of the other.”
“That’s very melodramatic of you.”
Joe chuckles, grins slyly, slurps his cappuccino. “I cannot help this. I am Italian.”
The back door bangs open and Ben comes out to join us in the courtyard. He is agitated, running his hands through his hair and frowning, looking much older than he is. He collapses into the chair beside me and lights a hand-rolled cigarette with the tarnished steel lighter he bought on the Trans-Siberian Railroad. The bear etched into the side glints in the sunshine, pawing the air and roaring soundlessly.
“No luck with Uncle George?” I ask.
“He’s still up in Scotland.” Ben spends much of his time in Mr. Lee’s study making calls on the telephone. It’s not as if he can speak to the king directly, of course; Ben calls someone in the prime minister’s office, who calls someone else, who calls someone else, on and on until Ben’s message has reached Balmoral Castle, and then the same process plays out in reverse. It all seems rather illogical to me, rather needlessly ritualistic, although I suppose Papa once did business the same way. It’s not enough to keep mere distance between royalty and the outside world; one must steel themselves against it with both palms pressed against the door. “I keep telling them that I need a private audience with King George, but I can’t make him come back to London. I’m just a press attaché. I’m not someone who matters. And obviously I’m not going to say anything about you over the phone. I don’t think they’d believe me, and even if they did we can’t have the secret getting loose before your safety is assured.”
“You matter,” I object, pained.
Ben doesn’t dignify this with words; he rolls his eyes instead. Some days he leaves me under Joe’s supervision and goes to visit his family on the other side of London. I wonder why he’s never asked if I would like to come along. I wonder if he’s ashamed of me, of my affluence, of my distinct lack of working-class wisdom.
“The king must come home eventually, no?” Joe says, trying to be encouraging.
“Sure. In a few days, maybe. Or a week. Or a month. Who knows?” Ben’s gaze lands on my authentic English breakfast and he perks up considerably. “Oh god, that looks delicious.”
I nudge my plate towards him. “Please, by all means, help yourself.”
As Ben eats—fork nestled in one hand, smoldering cigarette in the other—I resume my reading. “How is it?” Ben asks around a mouthful of bacon. He looks young again now, unguarded, curious and smiling. There’s a pang in my chest that is half red-colored longing and half heavy, dark grief. I collect myself like seashells laid in a basket.
“It’s extremely educational. Although I do take issue with some of the subject matter.”
“Oh? How so?”
“Well, the chapter about Queen Mary Tudor, for example,” I say. “She was the first queen regnant of England—one of the only queens—and she had so much opportunity to make her country a better place. So much potential. So much education and talent and resources. And then she spent her reign burning people and obsessing over her indifferent husband, following him around like a dog, paralyzed by misery every time he traveled abroad. Such a waste.”
Ben shrugs. “She did exactly what her parents would have wanted her to do. She married a man of royal blood and submitted herself to him. Because she believed her worth was measured only by the heirs she could produce.”
“That’s not the point.” I’m frowning, irritable; this is not the response I had anticipated. I hate when Ben is sharp like this, covered in barbs of cynicism like needles. It makes me wonder if he really likes me at all, if it’s possible he ever did. “She still had choices. She could have been kind to her people. Charitable, tolerant, forgiving.”
An exhale of smoke; a metallic glint in his green eyes. “Yeah? And what choices would you have made, had you been our dear departed Mary?”
“I wouldn’t have let emotions distract me from my responsibilities. I would have focused on helping the people I could, not falling into some pit of despair.”
“I see,” Ben says as he mops up beans and ketchup with a slice of toast. “So you would still marry the indifferent husband, just have the herculean foresight and self-control to not become quite so maddeningly inert.”
“I don’t know,” I snap, flipping pages rapidly.
“What? You suddenly don’t know what you’d do?”
“I don’t know what inert means.”
“It means motionless or ineffective.”
“Right, so yes, I wouldn’t let myself become that.”
“Perhaps Queen Mary Tudor once thought the same thing. Perhaps bitterness has a way of making monsters out of us all.”
“I’m not interested in this conversation anymore,” I say, burying my face in my book.
“Naturally.”
“Oh look, it is a cloud shaped like a cannoli,” Joe says, pointing.
“You’re not hungry?” Ben asks me with some concern.
“Not for an English breakfast.” How could anyone be hungry for blood pudding and ketchup and baked beans? Baked beans?!
“I can ask the cooks to make something else,” Ben says. “What do you want?”
“No, that’s alright.”
“Seriously, what do you want?”
“I couldn’t bear to trouble them. Our hosts have been so generous already. Once I’m in a position to do so…”—once I’m welcomed into the British royal family—“I’ll have to ensure that Mr. Lee and his household are adequately compensated for this inconvenience. And to think, I was so determined to hate him.”
Ben is perplexed. “Why?”
I reply as if it’s obvious: “Because he’s a cousin of the prime minister. And the prime minister is the man who convinced the king not to offer my family asylum.”
Ben stares at me. Joe stares at me. A silence settles over the courtyard, punctuated only by birdsong and rustling leaves. “That’s not how I understood things,” Ben says at last.
“What do you mean?”
Ben sets his fork down on the now-empty plate and clears his throat. “I don’t want to talk about this.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s not going to fix anything. It’s just going to hurt you.”
I marvel at how recently he has acquired an aversion to hurting me. It’s almost like learning a new language, one he hasn’t quite found his footing in yet. “I’d still like to know.”
“Forget it.”
Joe interjects: “You really must see this cloud, look, it is incredibile, I now have a violent hunger for cannoli…”
“Ben,” I say softly, like a plea.
His words come slowly, haltingly. “From what I heard…from Sir Buchanan, and from other people on the ambassador’s staff as well…it was the king who harbored the greatest reservations about publicly aiding the Romanovs.”
Uncle George? Uncle George was the one who didn’t want to save us? Uncle George dragged his feet until my family was executed and butchered and hastily disposed of like a secret, like stolen treasure or a tainted bride? “I don’t believe that,” I whisper, my voice hoarse.
“That’s fine,” Ben replies mildly. “You don’t have to.”
“Why would he do that?” I demand, my eyes blazing, daring Ben to battle me. “Why on earth would Uncle George not want to save us, his own blood, his own family? He loved my father. He loved me. He would never abandon us of his own volition. Someone must have convinced him there was no other choice.”
“Sure. Maybe. You’re probably right,” Ben concedes.
“You didn’t answer me.” There’s a white-hot fire in my chest like lightning. “Why would Uncle George not want to save us?”
Ben won’t meet my eyes. “I don’t know.”
“Because it’s not true,” I say, victorious. “Because you’re mistaken. You have to be.”
“That’s possible,” Ben murmurs.
We sit steeped in an uneasy quiet, Ben peering down at the table, Joe up at the sky, me at both of them. Ben must be wrong. Not purposefully wrong, no, not knowingly wrong, but wrong nonetheless. Uncle George would have saved us if he had known it was feasible, if he had known how truly desperate we were. The alternative is impossible. The alternative is unimaginable.
“There’s one more thing,” Ben says at last, as if he doesn’t want to.
“What?” I ask.
“The king may still be at Balmoral Castle, but someone else came home yesterday.”
I can feel my brow crinkling in confusion. “Who?”
Now Ben’s eyes finally find mine. “The Prince of Wales.”
“David?” I gasp. “Really? He’s on leave?”
“He’s at Buckingham Palace. I could try to arrange a meeting with him. Somewhere secluded, somewhere safe. Which brings me to my question for you. Do you want to see him today?”
“Do you think he’ll take me to stay with him? At the palace, I mean?” Will I ever see you again, Ben?
“I don’t know.”
My answer should be clear and immediate, but it isn’t; it catches behind my teeth like a horse’s bit. Reaching the Windsors has been my objective since I left Tobolsk in a trunk in the back of a mule cart, yet somehow this feels too sudden, too final. I feel like I’m standing on the edge of a great precipice, the wind howling up to tangle my hair, my father’s blood in my cheeks, my mother’s palms on my back. But there’s only one correct answer. I surrender to it. “Yes,” I say simply, as if it took no thought at all. “Of course I want to see him.”
Ben’s still watching me, his eyes emerald-green and searching and pensive. “Okay.” He stands, bites his lower lip, shakes his head once like he’s casting out bad dreams. “Okay,” he says again, and then he retreats back inside the house.
~~~~~~~~~~
The clock tower chimes twice and ominous grey clouds are filling the sky as Ben leads me through Hyde Park, a sprawling and verdant place I’ve never been to before. He chats nervously while I barely reply; I feel like dark water, still and quiet and kilometers deep. Ben tosses me trivial trinkets of British history like tarnished coins into a fountain.
“Do you know what we call it?” he asks, nodding towards the omnipresent clangs of the clock tower.
I shake my head distractedly, skating my palm over the pliable purple petals of asters.
He grins. “Big Ben.”
“Oh. After you, of course.”
“Yes, because I am definitely that important.”
“I have a few things named after me,” I say. “A library, a hospital, an art gallery, a room in the Winter Palace, a naval base in Vladivostok…”
“Jesus Christ,” Ben replies. “No wonder you’re so humble.”
“Well…come to think of it…I suppose they probably aren’t named after me anymore. Or won’t be for much longer. The revolutionaries will erase my existence entirely, chisel me off the monuments. They’ll obliterate all the Romanovs. It’ll be like killing us all over again.”
Ben hesitates, then takes my left hand in his. This is unwise; and yet I let him. In fact, I do more than let him. I squeeze his hand fearfully, desperately, my fingertips reading his scars like Braille. “You’ll have plenty of things named after you here if you want them to be,” Ben says.
I squint up at the shadowy, tumultuous sky. “I’d rather have them named after Tatiana or Alexei, I think.”
“That could probably be arranged.” Ben releases me, shoving clenched fists into his coat pockets. Arranged by the man we’re here to meet. By the Prince of Wales.
Because a prince of a powerful nation could do anything, right? Anything he wanted. Anything at all. Except stem the blood tide of revolution, of course. Except turn back the clock and raise my family like Lazarus.
We round a corner and find a guard, uniformed and on horseback, blocking steps surrounded by tall, dense, dark-green juniper trees. His eyes flick over Ben briefly, dismissively. “Move along, quickly now,” he says, with an encouraging swing of his sword. It feels wrong for a royal guard to treat me this way, disorienting, like a clock running backwards. It occurs to me that this same man might have been serving me and my family the last time we were in London; yet now he doesn’t recognize me, now he doesn’t see me at all. But I’m the same person, aren’t I? I try to catch his eye. He doesn’t seem aware of me. I might as well be a goldfinch or a stone.
“I think we’re meant to go up,” Ben says rather meekly, gesturing to the steps, like it’s a tepid suggestion. He barely sounds like himself at all. Ben? Meek? Since when is Ben EVER meek?
The guard scrutinizes him. “Name?”
“Benjamin Hardy, press attaché for Sir Buchanan, the British Ambassador to Russia.”
“Right.” The guard moves his horse to the side. It’s midnight black and tall and shining and surely a purebred, its mane and tail lustrous, its dark eyes sharp and arrogant. Kroshka could never compare, and yet I find myself missing her. “His Royal Highness is touring the Italian Gardens. He is expecting you.”
“Thank you very much,” Ben says, bowing his head, and leads me up the staircase. The guard still doesn’t look at me, not even once.
We ascend, my heart in my throat, my feet numb and clumsy; I keep having to remind them how to work. My hands are trembling. My skin is sweated and cold, my sweater clinging to my spine. There is a break in the clouds and muted daylight cascades over us. The steps are ending just ahead. My grand adventure with Ben is ending too.
Ben glances back and asks in a murmur: “Are you ready?”
Yes, I hear Mother say confidently. Yes, I hear Papa concur with warm, dusk-pink pride in his voice. Yes, I hear Tatiana and Alexei and Olga and Maria and Anastasia whisper from their gravesite in some unknown corner of the world, waiting impatiently for vengeance. The revolutionaries may hold Russia, but they will never hold me. The Romanovs will live on. Our blood will run in the veins of queens and kings until eternity turns all the earth to ash. It is the best revenge imaginable. “Yes,” I tell Ben, as if there is no other possible answer.
At the summit of the staircase is a spacious landing overlooking water, lily pads, swans, fountains, the horizon. The Prince of Wales is standing near the railing, framed by statues of half-naked women emptying their pitchers into the pond. I might have blushed at that two months ago; now I feel only an ache of curiosity, of longing.
David Windsor turns. He is just as I remembered him, only better, clearer: tall, slim, blond, blue-eyed, graceful, composed, fit for a fairytale. An ocean of relief crashes through me.
Oh, thank God. I love him after all.
His mouth falls open. His cigar—Cuban, imported, made by another man’s hands—tumbles forgotten to the ground. He is the opposite of the guard on horseback; the Prince of Wales sees only me. I can feel myself glowing with exhilaration, with pride. I can feel my family here on the landing with me, translucent and bloodied, beaming with ethereal approval. “Dear Lord,” David Windsor marvels. “Is that really you?”
Nodding with tears in my eyes, completely overwhelmed and unable to speak, I run to him. He opens his arms and bellows amazed laughter. His embrace is kind and familiar, if a bit formal.
“There there!” David soothes, patting my back. “You’re alright now. You’re far away from those traitorous animals in Russia. How did you manage this?! What a shock, my God! Father will be elated!”
“I escaped,” I say, wiping away tears. David hands me a handkerchief from his jacket pocket. It is embroidered with his initials. “Ben…Ben rescued me. He and Sir Buchannan formulated a plot. Ben smuggled me out before my family was moved to Yekaterinburg. We…we…we were supposed to save them. I was supposed to come here and convince Uncle George to offer us all asylum. But I was too late, I…I…”
“You poor thing.” The Prince of Wales shakes his head and rests a hand on my shoulder. “You poor, poor girl. Traveling in secret and in God knows what sorts of conditions. Learning of your family’s brutal slaying while on the run like some criminal, as if you have ever done anything wrong in your life! What could you have done?! Just a dutiful daughter, a grand duchess, a little girl. You are an innocent. What have you ever done to deserve such suffering?”
I can’t seem to stop weeping. Surely David will understand; he knew my family too. He loved them too. “My parents…my sisters…Alexei…” Sobs hitch from my throat. “I would have done anything to save them, anything—”
“There there,” David says again. His words are gentle but weightless somehow, bloodless, dispassionate. “Please, dearest, do collect yourself. I hate to see women cry. It’s such a pitiful sight. There’s no need to despair. You are exactly where you belong now.”
“Uncle George will welcome me?”
“Oh, my dear, he will proclaim his love for you in front of the entire world.” There are things shifting rapidly in the prince’s pale eyes: strategy, surprise, hunger, satisfaction…and perhaps a threat of envy, too. “Yes, Father…he always approved of you, didn’t he? He always hoped that…maybe…someday…” The Prince of Wales smiles down at me. “You might marry into our empire. And here you are at last, at the end of such a dreadful voyage, on our doorstep.”
“I could never thank you enough for this,” I say shakily. “I…I…”
“Please,” he urges, uneasy. “Did you think there was any other possible remedy? Of course we will take you in. You are the daughter—the last heir—of a great dynasty, one whose blood has melded with our own for generations. You and I, we are both great-grandchildren of Queen Victoria. We are both anointed by our Creator as the finest of mankind. Your house has fallen into ruin, this is true…but you are blameless in that. Just a grand duchess. Just a daughter. What could you have done to stop it? You poor thing. Poor, poor thing.” He smooths my hair once and then steps away, his mind already elsewhere. “I will call Father as soon as I return to the palace. I will tell him that he must come to London immediately. When he is back, he can summon you to an official audience, and then your survival can be announced publicly. The king—and only the king—must initiate everything, of course. And when your proper period of mourning has passed…” The Prince of Wales smiles again, this time vaguely and into the distance. “Other announcements can be made as well.”
I fold up David’s handkerchief and stow it in the pocket of my corduroy trousers. My husband, my husband, my husband, this man is going to be my husband. Surely if I repeat this often enough, it will start to feel real. “I would very much like to see Uncle George again. To be with all of you again.”
“Indeed.” The prince’s ice-blue eyes, as his shock evaporates, travel down to my clothes. “Dear Lord, what on earth are you wearing?!” he exclaims. “An old shabby sweater? A cheap scarf? Trousers? Well, I suppose you are in hiding. You must feel so out of place. Not to worry, dearest. You will be back to your old self in no time. And the sooner I go, the sooner you will be able to resume your rightful place.”
“I’m not going to the palace with you now?” I ask, unsure if I am disappointed or confused or pleased.
“I’m afraid that just won’t be possible, dearest. I don’t have the authority to invite you there, only Father does. And we can’t have this secret getting out before Father is informed, can we? He would be furious. I’m terribly sorry about the circumstances, but surely you understand. The attaché said he was staying with Mr. Gwilym Lee, I presume that’s where he’s been hiding you too? Are your accommodations there comfortable?”
And that’s exactly the way he puts it: comfortable. Not safe, not enjoyable, not enlightening, not affectionate, but comfortable. I suppose that’s the yard stick by which my kind measure their lives. Something in my chest is sinking, darkening. Did I really think that I love him? That’s impossible. I don’t even know him. Not really. “Very comfortable. Mr. Lee and his wife have been godsends to me. And Ben…” I turn to him. Ben is standing in the shade of the juniper trees and watching us with no expression that I can read. His face is a void, flinty and heartbreakingly beautiful. “He has saved my life over and over again. He has displayed both exemplary courage and judgement. He is my hero, my champion, my truest friend. I will be indebted to him until death. He must be adequately rewarded.”
“Is that so?” The Prince of Wales—for the first time, as if it is the dimmest of afterthoughts—looks at Ben. Ben bows deeply. David Windsor considers him for a few brisk seconds; then his eyes dart to me, back to Ben, to me again. “We will have to reward him,” David says, a winter-cold edge in his words. “Won’t we, dearest?”
“Whatever you decide is best,” I recover quickly.
The prince’s arm curls around my waist. He kisses me delicately on each cheek, feather-lightly, as if he might crack my skin like porcelain. “Good day, Your Imperial Highness. We shall meet again soon. Quite soon, I think. Yes, that would be for the best.”
The Prince of Wales descends the steps, leaving a silent open space like a grave in his wake. In Moscow, the communist revolutionaries have seized control and executed most of the Provisional Government. In Passchendaele, battlefields are being combed for dog tags to send back to the households of the dead. At Balmoral Castle in Scotland, King George V is about to receive a very urgent phone call. Somewhere—and I’ll never know where—my family’s bones are alight with the promise of redemption.
Meanwhile, here in Hyde Park in the heart of London, Ben and I stare at each other as sparce drops of rain begin to fall from a ghost-colored sky.
~~~~~~~~~~
“Why haven’t you ever taken me to meet your family?” I ask Ben. We’re sitting in the ill-lit, unassuming corner booth of a pub in West London. We each have a pint of brown ale. I sip mine tentatively; it’s thick and bitter and strange. Ben gulps his like water.
“I didn’t think you’d want to,” he says.
“Why wouldn’t I want to meet them?”
“Because…” Ben shows his palms penitently. “Because of what happened to your family. I thought it might be painful for you. To see my mother, my siblings. To be around all that.”
“Oh. I was worried you were too embarrassed of me.”
He seems genuinely puzzled. “What’s there to be embarrassed about?”
I smile down at the heavy oak table and say nothing, spinning my glass between my hands.
“Do you really want to meet my family?” Ben says.
“Of course I do. You’ve already told me so much about them.”
“Okay. We’ll do dinner at their house tonight.”
I watch him as he drinks his ale, his hair falling in messy twists over his forehead, his cheeks flushed, his emerald-colored eyes flitting restlessly around the pub. I remember how his hands felt against my face. I remember the way his lips tasted on mine. There’s a knot in my chest like barbed wire. The thought of never touching him again is indescribable. “How is it possible that no one has fallen in love with you yet?”
“I told you. All I’ve ever done is work.”
“It’s a shame. It’s a crime, actually. There’s too much good in you to not be shared.”
Ben smirks at me from beneath his curls. “I suppose at this point I’ll end up with an American.”
“What will it be like for you there? When you first arrive, I mean. It must be difficult to start over somewhere new without help, without many…resources.”
“As a relatively poor person, you mean?” Ben laughs. “I’ll be alright. I don’t need much. I’ll rent some dodgy little room somewhere and scrape by until I get my feet under me. There’s cheap lodging if you’re willing to share space. And I’ll have Joe. He’ll have the time of his life finding a woman for me. He’s been trying to give me condoms for years. He hides them in my pockets and luggage when I’m not paying attention.”
“Condoms?”
“Uh…” Ben blushes a deeper red, turning shy. “Something to prevent…children. One of several possible methods.”
“Ah. Yes, I don’t believe I’ll have the luxury of knowing much about that.”
Ben frowns at me, somber, anxious. I swallow a mouthful of my dark, bitter ale.
“You could stay,” I tell him suddenly. “Here. In London. When Sir Buchanan retires, I could ensure the royal family keeps you on as a press attaché for the next ambassador to Russia. Or any country you want. Italy, France, Greece, America, anywhere. I could convince David to do it.”
“No,” Ben returns with a sad smile. “I don’t think you could.”
The way he looked at Ben. The way he looks at me.
No, perhaps the Prince of Wales will never be a man who is swayed by his wife. I won’t have any power over him. It’s difficult to have power over someone who doesn’t love you.
“He’s not cruel,” I say softly. We’ve already discussed this, but I’m confirming it.
“No,” Ben insists. “Distant. Vain. Unfaithful. But never cruel.”
“Many women have suffered far worse,” I murmur, mostly to myself.
“Yes. And plenty have suffered less.”
“Is that what you’ll write about me in your article?” There’s no malice in my words, no fight, only curiosity. “That I’m materialistic…or mindlessly obedient…or spineless…or…or weak? Too weak to consider a different kind of life?”
“I don’t think you’re weak,” Ben replies softly, staring down at his hands. “I think you’re brave.”
There’s warm contentment rising in my cheeks. Pride, even. I’ve learned that there is nothing Ben respects more than courage, just as there is nothing I prize above honor. Perhaps we have learned to see both in each other. “Really?”
“You could come to New York with me,” he says in a rush, his eyes sparkling. “You could start over too, with me and Joe, you could be anything you wanted to be. I’d help you.”
I bark out a stunned laugh. I’m positive he’s joking. It’s a ludicrous prospect. “What, and live in some tiny room in a run-down apartment, shooing away rats with a broom, driving the mule cart to the market each week to buy beets and cabbages, sharing a toilet with God knows how many other people and no bathtub in sight? Can you imagine me living like that?”
But Ben doesn’t find it funny. It’s not just his head that drops; everything in him sinks, goes silent, goes still. He’s disappointed. He’s ashamed.
“Ben, wait, I didn’t…I didn’t mean…”
“We should go,” he says, and stands before I can stop him.
~~~~~~~~~~
Ben’s family’s home is not what I’d envisioned. It’s a modest little place squeezed between a bakery and a blacksmith’s shop—far from a castle or mansion, surely—but it’s not dilapidated. It’s simple, quaint, a bit overcrowded, but not impoverished. They have the entire townhouse to themselves: two floors, a few windows, a fireplace, a scuffed old piano in the living room, two basset hounds with wagging tails and drooping ears, a tiny garden in the backyard where the children tend pumpkins and kale and sugar snap peas. It’s not as desperate as I had imagined Ben’s childhood to be when he described it to me. I wonder how they can afford this.
“Let me show her, let me show her!” August, ten years old and grinning enormously, shouts as he drags me around the house and presents each room as if he lives in a palace, every piece of furniture handed down through dynasties instead of secondhand and scuffed. He looks very much like Ben; but August is brighter, more open, less pummeled by life. He makes me wonder what Alexei might have been like had he been born healthy.
Leo, fourteen, is wrestling with his mathematics homework at a worn desk in the living room. Opal and Kathryn are in the kitchen helping their mother prepare dinner: roasted chicken, gravy, potatoes, stuffing, glazed carrots, sticky toffee pudding for dessert. That was once Alexei’s favorite, I remember. I hope he can see me now. I hope he’s proud of me.
Ben’s mother is a whisper of a woman, very hushed, very thin, her face much older that her years. She is like a battered ship limping home to harbor. She is polite to me but remote; she is like that with everyone, except perhaps August, her youngest. She seems to be irrevocably exhausted, as if someone pierced the soles of her feet and bled out her capacity for loud, careless joy. She has short, black curly hair and hands gnarled with arthritis far worse than my own mother’s was. There are no portraits or photos in the house, but there are three small wooden crosses on the mantle of the fireplace, one for each of her lost children: Willis, Cecil, Louise.
As Ben and I help set the table, a young man around twenty limps through the front door. He has dark hair, glasses, a narrow bookish face, and a moderate clubfoot on his left side. He walks with the assistance of a cane.
“You’re here,” Luther says calmly to Ben, a smile illuminating his face. “Now we can read the letter.”
“There’s a letter?” Ben drops the spoons he’d been placing. “From Frankie?”
Luther fetches it from the desk drawer and hands it to Ben. We gather around him on the single frayed couch: me, Luther, Leo, Opal, Kathryn, August, the basset hounds called Pancake and Pickles. Ben’s mother listens gravely from the kitchen, stirring and basting, all the recipes living only in her head.
“When did it arrive?” Ben asks.
“Yesterday,” Leo replies eagerly. “We wanted to wait for you. We wanted to read it together.”
“I can’t believe you had the patience.” Ben rips the letter free from the envelope. The first thing he reads is the date at the top. “Only five days ago,” Ben says with a great exhale, and they all burst into cheers; even his mother casts us a weary half-smile. At first I don’t understand, and then I do: if Frankie wrote a letter five days ago, it means he survived the Germans’ last major counter-offensive. It means he’s likely still alive right now, eating his dinner out of cans while we eat ours off chipped, mismatched plates. It means he might still come home someday.
Frankie’s letter is short, probably because he refuses to tell his family what Passchendaele is really like. Instead, he writes about the books he’s read, the Allied soldiers he’s met from Ireland and France and Belgium, the weather improving, the sight of the stars at night, his memories of home. He writes that he hopes he’ll be back by Christmas. He writes about the now-infamous fate of the Romanovs, the gossip that has spread like wildfire and horrified an already shellshocked world. Little do they know that the true story has barely begun.
As Ben reads, August huddles up beside him, and Opal hold his free hand, and Leo’s eyes begin to glisten, and Luther braids Katheryn’s long golden hair; and I am reminded so much of my own family that I am flooded not with sorrow but overpowering, breathless love. I can hear Papa telling us folktales by candlelight, his voice changing with each character. I can see Mother sitting in her wheelchair and knitting a hat for Alexei, new mittens for Anastasia, a sweater for me. I can feel Tatiana combing and arranging my hair. I can smell the tobacco from Papa’s pipe. I can taste hot chocolate and snowflakes and wild raspberries plucked from bushes. For a moment, and only one, none of it happened: Papa never abdicated the throne, the wars never raged, my family never died. For a moment, I am home and always will be.
I’ll never have that again, I think.
No; the Prince of Wales is my destiny, he is as much a part of my existence as my own bones. But he will never give me what Papa gave Mother. I am only now understanding how rare my parents’ love was, how remarkable. It is an uncommon thing to find a true home here on earth, and it is magic if you can manage to keep it.
“Are you alright?” Ben asks, and I realize that they’re all watching me. The letter is finished and folded carefully in Ben’s hands. His hands…I can’t seem to stop looking at his hands.
“Are you alright?” his siblings echo with genuine concern, these children who know nothing about me except that I am ostensibly a typist named Lana Brinkley, a colleague of their brother, perhaps even his friend. I’m a nobody, and yet they see me with perfect clarity.
“I’m fine,” I say, offering up a smile. “I was just reminded of someone I used to know.”
All through dinner—as the voices of Ben’s family rush around me like the warm foaming surf of Greece or Italy or Spain or some other romantic kingdom I had once dreamed of marrying into—I am silently bracing myself for my future. I can see it like paintings in a museum: opening presents with my children under a towering Christmas tree at Buckingham Palace, attending polo games and crystalline balls, posing in tiaras for photographs, cutting ribbons at hospitals and parks and bridges, sipping afternoon tea with Queen Mary and the Princess Royal, holidaying in the Caribbean or the Mediterranean, touring countries and territories littered across the globe where the sun never sets on the British Empire. And I do, I find, believe wholeheartedly that I would be safe here: the British are not hard in the way that Russians are, nor hereditarily restless like Americans. I would never be imprisoned, tortured, guillotined, burned, discarded like the entrails of a butchered animal. I would enjoy unparalleled opulence and security for the next half a century. How many people would kill to be me? How many people live on the edge of a knife, the color of each day bruised black with hunger, violence, disease, prostitution, deprivation, slavery, filth, war? I would be insane to subject myself to such risks when I was born so high above them. It would be like kicking a hole in a ship when it’s midway across the Atlantic.
Yes, I can see my life as if I’ve already lived it, and there’s nothing there that startles or horrifies me. The Prince of Wales would be a perfectly adequate husband, popular with his people and courteous to me. He would never criticize or yell or—God forbid—raise a hand in anger. He would be handsome and stylish and proud of our children. Perhaps he would even abandon his mistresses as our bond grows stronger through the years. I realize that the thought of him with other women doesn’t especially wound me. It would be alright to embrace him, to kiss him, to do much more with him. I can stomach the idea of that. We would have a pleasant co-existence…a comfortable one, to use his own word.
No, what gives me pause is something else, something unexpected, something that is just now dawning on me: not the presence of the Prince of Wales but the absence of anyone else, the prospect of never experiencing real passion, of never knowing what it’s like to have someone I’m mad for between my thighs, of David having feasted on heat and desire and wildness while I will never taste it. I think of the bitterness that will grow in me like a child I’ll never deliver. I think of writing some dull, too-careful letter to Ben once or twice a year while whispers tangle in my skull: What if? What if?
Luther’s voice rouses me, hesitant and bashful as he stirs his mashed potatoes and gravy together, avoiding everyone’s eyes: “Ben…listen, I hate to ask this…but there are a few more textbooks that I need for the Michaelmas term…the professors just told us about them, and I thought I had enough money squirreled away but I’m…well, I’m a little short…”
“I’ll take care of it,” Ben replies instantly.
“I’ll pay you back someday,” Luther insists. “I’m keeping a list of the expenses and when I have my own dental practice I’ll give—”
“Don’t worry about it,” Ben says with a wave of his hand and changes the subject, and then I know exactly how his family affords this house. I know how they afford everything they have.
As the sun is setting and his mother is clearing the table to serve dessert—and adamantly refusing my offers of assistance, slapping my hands away with her crooked fingers—I follow Ben out into the backyard when he goes there to smoke one of his very inexpensive hand-rolled cigarettes, one of infinite tiny sacrifices his mother’s and siblings’ lives are now built on.
“He didn’t really say anything about my family, did he?” I ask Ben, meaning the Prince of Wales.
“No, he didn’t,” Ben agrees, vivid amber sunlight glowing on his face.
“He didn’t say that Papa didn’t deserve it. He didn’t even mention Tati or Alexei.”
“No,” Ben says again.
“Why wouldn’t he?”
Ben debates telling me something and instead replies: “I don’t know.”
“You have all these secrets now. You used to just hurl anything that crossed your mind at me like stones.”
“Yes, it is immensely inconvenient to have grown a conscious.”
I’m studying him in the receding light—fire like a yellow topaz—acutely aware that our grand adventure is waning like the starving crescent of the moon. “Can I ask you something else?”
Now Ben seems nervous. He flicks ashes from his cigarette with a restless hand. Everywhere I look I find the color of embers, like the whole world is burning. “Sure.”
“What made you choose the name Lana?”
He’s a little relieved, a little disappointed. “Oh. That.”
“If you even have a reason.”
“There’s a reason,” Ben says. “But you’ll hate it.”
“Yeah?”
“Firstly, I liked that it sounded like a nickname instead of something regal and important. Secondly, it’s easy to pronounce and won’t divulge your Russian accent. Thirdly, and most importantly…” He smirks guiltily. “It means something in Gaelic.”
Gaelic is one of the languages I haven’t gotten to yet. It’s a humble language, a working-class language, no royals study it to my knowledge; there is no recognized Irish royal family and there hasn’t been since the English invaded them in the 12th Century. But I suppose it’s likely that Ben has come across plenty of Irish people during his travels, maids and cooks and shipbuilders. He might have even grown up with some. “What does it mean?”
“Little rock.”
I erupt into giggles. It feels fantastic. “You…you named me…rock…?”
“Little rock,” Ben clarifies. “Which makes it cuter.”
“You are possibly the worst person who has ever existed, Benjamin Hardy.”
“Who’s going to keep your ego in check if not me?”
“My husband, I suppose,” I say, flatly now, as indigo night falls like a curtain.
~~~~~~~~~~
The Lees’ house is quiet and still like winter. The staff have gone home for the night, the Sealyham Terriers are slumbering somewhere with their noses tucked under their paws, Ben and Joe are outside in the courtyard tossing sticks into the firepit. It’s cold when the wind blows, but not cold enough to drive them inside. They don’t want to go to bed; they know it’s our last night together. Nothing will ever be the same after tonight. I don’t want to go to bed either.
I’m rummaging through the kitchen trying to find a pot, mugs, milk, sugar, and cocoa powder; my plan is to surprise Ben and Joe with hot chocolate, but I’ve never made it myself before. I’ve rarely navigated a kitchen at all before.
“Can I help you with something?” Gwilym Lee asks from the doorway, startling me. There’s a Sealyham Terrier wagging its stubby white tail by his feet.
“Oh, I’m so sorry…I hate to be an inconvenience…I was just thinking as we were sitting out there around the fire…perhaps some…hot chocolate?”
“Ah, just a moment.” He moves deftly around plucking items from cabinets and drawers. He’s a wonderfully benign person from what I’ve seen, and so is his wife Hazel. She has blonde hair and umber eyes and a way of telling the most cheerful, long-winded, dramatic stories. Oddly enough, she’s Australian.
“How did you meet your wife, Mr. Lee?” I say as he begins heating milk on the stove.
“Her father is a shipping tycoon back in Australia. He was here on business and brought Hazel and her mother along. I bumped into them at a Christmas ball and couldn’t stop staring at Hazel all evening. I asked her the most idiotic questions just to hear her talk.”
“What a romantic meeting,” I say admiringly. It’s the sort of thing princesses dream of. And grand duchesses too.
“It wasn’t all a fairytale, let me assure you. My parents were horrified.”
“I can’t imagine why. She’s lovely.”
Mr. Lee chuckles. “Because she’s not Welsh, of course! Although I suppose that wouldn’t be so obvious to you, being from…” He gestures vaguely, raises his eyebrows. “Elsewhere.”
I smirk down at my shoes as he stirs sugar and cocoa powder into the pot, neither confirming nor denying. “Now that you mention it, I have heard that the Welsh are…rather prideful of their heritage.”
“We’re like the Irish. We’ve never stopped bristling at British rule. And I come from an old, old family. There are artifacts in this house that date from when Wales had its own kings.”
“Rebellion everywhere,” I mutter to myself, feeling like I’m drowning in it. Perhaps everyone is, all over the world since the dawn of time; perhaps rulership is something that will inevitably be hated and act hatefully in reply. “So your parents wanted you to marry a Welsh woman.”
“Welsh was heavily preferred. From the Continent would have been acceptable. English would have been very bad, American even worse. But Australian? That was unthinkable! Australia was once a prison colony, you know. They’re just English people without the veneer of sophistication.” He grins, knowing how ridiculous it sounds, this shallow prejudice. “They’re barely humans at all.”
I observe Gwilym Lee, tall and poised, as he pours hot chocolate into three mugs: blue, red, green. Steam rises in the air like smoke, like ghosts. Something about the way he moves reminds me of Tatiana. “What made you decide to marry her anyway?”
He shrugs and smiles at me over his shoulder. “Life is long. With the wrong person, I imagine, it feels much longer.” He sets the mugs on a tray and gives it to me. “Anything else I can do for you, Miss Lana? Or should I say Lana bella donna, as Joseph does?”
“No, you’ve done quite enough already. Thank you, Mr. Lee. You shall be generously rewarded. I’ll see to it.”
From the shadowy doorway, he responds: “I’d rather you see to your own happiness.” And I’m left standing alone in the kitchen as Mr. Lee and the Sealyham Terrier vanish, the dog’s nails clicking on the hardwood floor.
I bring the tray out to the courtyard and sit in the firelight, sipping my hot chocolate, as Ben and Joe toast theirs and discuss the ethnic neighborhoods of New York City: Little Italy and Chinatown and Little Spain, Irish in Hell’s Kitchen, Norwegians in Bay Ridge, Poles in Greenpoint, Syrians and Lebanese on Washington Street in Manhattan, African Americans moving up to Harlem from the treacherous South, Jews in Borough Park, Greeks in Astoria, Russians in Brighton Beach. It’s the whole planet in miniature. Joe wants to live near other Italians. Ben wants to be able to volunteer at settlement houses and maybe even meet Jane Addams one day.
I’m listening to them, but from a distance; Ben keeps trying to draw me into the conversation and I ignore him. I’m too busy thinking about what I’m going to do next. I have an idea, you see; I’ve had it for longer than I could admit even to myself. It’s unforgiveable, but it won’t go away. And I know it’s the right thing to do because at last when I commit to it—silently, like the dead of night—I feel a great calmness settle over me, a great peace. As I cradle my mug of hot chocolate, my hands don’t shake at all.
Abruptly, I rise to my feet. “I’m going upstairs now,” I inform Ben.
He blinks. “Okay.”
“I expect you to join me in precisely one hour.”
“Okay,” Ben says again, thunderstruck, smiling. Joe stifles a rapturous laugh and pounds on Ben’s shoulder with his lithe little fists. Ben, still smiling, doesn’t seem to notice.
Upstairs, I take a bath so hot it fills the room with steam, and I lay in the tub listening to the echoing plinks of dripping water and the late-October wind rattling the window shutters. When I drain the water—opaque and shimmering with rose-scented soap—I can feel the weight of the past two years shedding off me like a snake’s skin, bleeding away like summer, disappearing down the drain. I sit at the vanity, brushing out my hair, naked and serene, gazing at my reflection. In the mirror, in the golden lamplight, I see not flaws, not history, not the future, not my family, not tragedy or triumph, but only myself; and I don’t think that’s ever happened before.
Exactly one hour after I left him, Ben opens the bedroom door. I’m waiting for him on the bed with my hair loose and wild, my skin dewy with steam, my heartbeat steady. He inhales, exhales, closes the door as quietly as possible. He walks to the bed and covers his face with his hands, his beautiful, scarred hands. I think of how pure his flesh is, uncolored by dynasties or pacts. I think of how everything he has he built himself. I stand to meet him, laying my hands lightly on top of his own.
“Ben?” I whisper.
“Yeah?”
“You can look at me. It’s alright.”
Slowly, hesitantly, he drops his hands. His eyes drift over me like snow: soft, quiet, melting away. I feel no nervousness, no shame. Ben is pulling off his sweater. I skate my palms down his chest, his belly, his forearms lined with ocean-blue veins. “Goddamn,” he gasps, resting his forehead against mine. I can feel the heat coming off him in waves. His fingers tangle in my hair. His clothes are in a messy pile on the hardwood floor.
“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” I say.
“Believe me, I want to.”
“Everything?”
“Everything,” he breathes.
I climb onto the bed and he follows, touching my face and my neck and my breasts, kissing me so deeply the rest of the world ceases to exist. There’s no one but us, there never has been, there never will be again. The valleys and peaks of his body fit perfectly with mine. I guide his hands lower, lower, lower.
Ben cautions: “Are you sure? Now? With me? I don’t want you to regret this. And I might be legitimately terrible because I’ve never done this before—”
“I don’t care.” I’m smiling; I can’t seem to stop. “I don’t want my first time to be with some prince I barely know. I want it to be with you.”
“I love you,” Ben says. “But I guess you already know that.”
“I do now.”
It’s like a dream in the weak golden lamplight: our skin, our voices, the effortless rhythm we stumble unsuspectingly into, no pain, no thought, time running neither forwards nor backwards but fading away entirely like ink in water.
~~~~~~~~~~
Afterwards, we bathe together and put on pajamas—the Lees keep the dressers stocked for guests—and turn off the lights. Ben doesn’t offer to leave, and I don’t ask him to. We slip beneath the blankets and find each other again, our fingers linking together, our minds untroubled. Tomorrow will be different, surely, but tomorrow doesn’t feel real yet. It’s a legend, it’s folklore. It’s a myth people shared around bonfires, carved into stones, painted on cave walls.
I say in the darkness: “We really must thank Joe for the condoms.”
“Yes, absolutely.”
“How many more do you have?”
“Four or five, I think.”
“Hmm.” I kiss his stubbled neck, and then his jaw, and then his mouth with teasing darts of my tongue. I can still taste myself on him, inside of him, growing into his bones like roots. I can feel his lips smiling against mine.
“So you want your second time to be with me too, huh?”
“Silence, commoner,” I murmur, grinning, dragging him closer by the collar of his shirt, drawing him into me like the moon pulls the sea.
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yeah i understand!! ill go a few days without any motivation especially bc im higher leveled now so it gets boring sometimes :(( but theyre releasing a lot of stuff rn to keep everyone entertained for a HUGE update which i’m excited about (my laptops storage is not however) but yes okay so!!! the character i rlly want is named klee!! she’s super cute n like this little elven pyro mage child who loves explosives,,, here’s her character demo :3 !
:0 new stuff is always so exciting!! I love to try to discover all the new stuff before reading the patch notes to see what I missed :)) and the laptop storage is such a mood 🤧 there never seems to be enough :')
AND STOP SHES LITERALLY SO CUTE 😭 I love her already! She's a little pyro-bombing-maniac and I don't think I've ever watched a cuter video 😭 I understand why you want her so badly
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SATINE BISHOP seattle’s rookie sorceress, inner demons (x.x)
yesterday? i went to the fremont market. today? i accidentally started the apocalypse, survived my very first demon attack and found out i can do magic. tomorrow? who knows!
playlist . @innerdemons-if
#she’s doing fine! being held together by glitter glue and lord of the rings themed duct tape but doing fine!#she didn’t do it seattle it wasn’t her fault! it was her evil twin? batine sishop! ✨🥴#my precious disaster bb girl ✨🤍#c. satine bishop#if. inner demons#inner demons#inner demons if#interactive fiction#leg.ocs#leg.edit#THIS WAS ALSO SITTING IN MY WIPS? me playing with icons for the second time! it’s getting easier i think! ✨☺️#the demo updated and im so excited to read it so here she is!#phoebe bridgers beloved as her fc ✨😌#thinks ciaran is neat! 🤍#this was such a cute template and i love her aesthetic :)#y’all should absolutely read this if the writing is lovely and the ui is stunning! i love ittt sm 🤍#AND ITS SET IN THE PNW LIKE AHH reading streets and being like !!!! i know that one! IS AMAZING AND I LOVE IT SO MUCH ✨🥺#now knowing she has magic she can live out her best galadriel dream!#my chaotic galdriel wannabe bb ✨🥺#*galadriel#i am back after a short couple day break and im feeling better now! 🤍#WE FINALLY ARENT ILL ANYMORE hehe! ✨☺️🤍!#AND BAINBRIDGE ISLAND i was like !!!!!!! i know that place! it’s so cool ahhh i love it ✨☺️#just wants to frequent the fremont market and spend all her money buying vinyls at the record store and fawn over the pretty sorcerer!
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The Sundown Crew’s rp plotting cheat-sheet
Want new-and-exciting plots for your character? Long to reach out to more of your followers, but don’t know where to start? Fear not! Fill out this form and give your RP partners both present and future all the of juicy jumping off points they need to help you get your characters acquainted.
Be sure to tag the players whose characters YOU want more cues to interact with, and repost, don’t reblog! Feel free to add or remove sections as you see fit. Template here.
Mun name: Dee
OOC Contact: Tumblr IM
Who the heck is/are my muse(s) anyway:
In the main crew, we have Sammy, a nerdy ghoul boi who is the embodiment of Samhain (of the Celtic calendar) and Guardian of the Veil; Nightshade, his soul-sister and cat-turned-human witchy familiar; and last but not least Axel, the sadistic, cannibal crow mythos who’s only interested in revenge and fucking people (up).
They’re all super old and supernatural and 2/3 are always happy to meet new people!
Points of interest:
Samhain & Nightshade: guarding the Veil, keeping the balance, protecting innocent humans and mythos alike, adventuring and exploring new places, meeting people and learning new things. Sammy enjoys reading, treasure-hunting and getting lost in his research. Nightshade enjoys cooking, eating, listening to music, and keeping up with the latest memes.
Axel: looking for the biggest, baddest, toughest rivals he can fight to the death with, enjoys challenges, exploring new places, witnessing genocides and mass-murders, causing genocides and mass-murders, fucking people (up) psychologically and physically.
What they’ve been up to recently:
Samhain & Nightshade: their work and responsibilities as Guardians of the Veil. Though the Veil is at its thinnest during Hallow’s Eve (31st Oct), they work 24/7 by hunting malicious spirits and whatever dangerous creatures threatening both humans and mythos that are already existing in the world. When not on the job, they’re either out sight-seeing and visiting friends or chilling at home. They also run a small business from home by making potions, charms and selling spells or rare ingredients. Merchants and traveling caravans often stop by their place so they always have a lot of stock to trade.
Axel: whatever the fuck he wants. Mostly spends his time hunting down prey in the human world, or spreading his wings and exploring new and faraway lands/dimensions. He’s still on his quest to journey to Hell and get his revenge on the demoness who killed his whole family. Always easier said than done, but he’s patient and he plays the long game better than anyone.
Where to find them:
The crew live on an abandoned, magickal island called Sundown. Geographically, it’s somewhere up in Northern Ireland but can’t be marked on any human map. It was magickal long before any of them settled there and because of its supernatural properties, it can hide itself from the naked eye. At the same time the island and its forests are connected to every labyrinth, maze and neck of the woods across worlds and dimensions.
Samhain is always saying that the island has a mind of its own and likes to spirit people away, regardless if their living or dead. People either end up in Sundown when they least expect it, or because it’s where they’re supposed to go.
While you can easily find Samhain and Nightshade at home, Axel can’t stay cooped up in once place too long and travels all over the place. When he’s not hunting, he escapes to the quiet of the wild or the bustling big cities.
Current plans:
The narrative starts with Samhain and Nightshade already experts in their fields and doing their jobs as Guardians of the Veil, and continues with them helping Axel achieve his goal of ultimate payback. The timeline for this blog is infinite after that because I haven’t quite figured out the endgame for anything just yet. Which is why any plot that involves Axel killing Ketele, getting his heart back, and even Nightshade’s life after Samhain’s death, is considered an AU.
In terms of plans for this blog, I’m still working on things so that they can fall into place and serve as proper material for a comic. Once I’ve gotten all my ideas sorted out, those AUs might probably not stay AUs and end up being one huge main timeline.
Desired interactions:
I’d love more threads that explore the darker side of Samhain, whether it’s in the Mainverse or in any of the AUs where he’s not his usual, warm, friendly self or where he’s morally grey. Which is why I love writing him in his criminal verses! Some of my faves are:
- Pirate AU: He’s the first-mate and quartermaster who has the gift of ‘Sight’ but he’s as pirate as they come.
- Green Eyed Devil: Human-Ghoul hybrid bandit whose crew would do almost anything for money.
- Mobprince AU: Classy and more reserved, the quiet but bloodthirsty type. I’ve always been a fan of mobs/gangs/syndicates.
- Dark!Samhain: Angsty, overpowered hermit. I rarely get opportunities to write him in this verse which is a shame because I’d like to develop it more.
Nightshade’s all fun and games but once in a while, it’d be refreshing for Nightshade to do a serious thread. Like maybe deal with heavier, more sensitive topics. I’ve emphasized how she’s seen the same amount of horror Samhain has seen but comes out more mentally resilient in comparison, so I’d really like to explore that more about her. I also feel like she hasn’t been able to really connect with anyone as a real friend?? Idk how to explain it but like, I feel like she just floats between different muses and she’s so friendly with everyone, it’s hard to pinpoint whether there is a real connection between them or if it’s just Nightshade being...Nightshade? It’s none of my partners’ faults BTW! I’m reminding me to fix that about myself and how I write her.
Speaking of darker topics, I don’t mind pushing the boundaries when it comes to Axel as long as it doesn’t make anyone uncomfortable. I used to write some disturbing shit with him back in the day (like he broke into a drug lord’s flat and killed everyone in it so he could use it as his personal nest, killed and ate two police officers who were investigating the break-in, mutilated, tortured and ate a rapist alive after catching him in the act etc.). But the partners I used to write with are long gone and I feel like Axel needs to get back into the game again.
Offered interactions:
All of the above as well as anything else from my list of AUs! As mentioned on the page, that list is not the TOTAL list of AUs I’ve got. Some are just really small and still in development, and not enough to justify getting a spot on that list. Honestly, I’m open to plotting and coming up with more AUs so if you’ve got an idea, just hmu! I’ve also got a tag for ‘au ideas’ so you can browse there too if you like and tell me if anything strikes your fancy~
Current open post/s:
I don’t make open posts or starters. I prefer writing starters once my partner and I have something in mind and we’ve plotted enough to go about it.
Anything else?:
Though the blog is advertised as a WEEKEND blog (cus I work 9-5 on weekdays), I am usually lurking online thanks to mobile and will answer IMs when free. I don’t like replying to threads on mobile so I’ll usually reply on the weekends. Unless I’m busy that weekend, then sometimes I change up the rules and reply on a Friday or whenever I’m able.
When I reply to threads, I like to release a bunch at a time and then I’ll tag my partners so that they can see how many threads I’ve replied to out of the total count, like so! The total count often changes because we could have dropped threads in between, or partners go on hiatus and they get moved from ‘ongoing’ to ‘cold’ threads. Because of this, I have a threads page which I try my best to update.
Tagged by Stolen from: @bengalisms
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Eliavah ~ Cephalon Gacha @ Epiphany October 2017 by e l i a v a h ღ
"The Cephalon is a sight to behold, some compare to a angel, with her graceful stature, emissive wings, and intimidating, but entrancing appearance... Lest you be her target. The Cephalon while a sight to be hold, is an assassin sent to delivered brute justice to those who dodge their debts, or deal with individuals belonging suspicious parties. No one can discern if Cephalon fights for good or evil, but one thing for certain is: hope you're not the target of her death grip claws, for this assassin needs no weapons, nor trickery or traps. She uses her light speed, and her "hand of judgment" to destroy her targets, quickly and efficiently.. There is no escaping, the Cephalon"
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You guys im so excited! I got invited to the Epiphany on the best month of the year! Halloween and my birthday :D (the 30th!) I was so hyped to do this set, and stuff because Ive been wanting to do a cyborg/robo inspired set for the longesst time. I had sooo much more items planned for this set, but unfortunately due to moving i had to cut some down! There will definately be more robo sets in the future though! ;)
I hope you guys love it its something different than what Im used to (first time doing "hard surface sculpting i believe" ), Now Im super exhausted and burnt out, so you can read the notecards in the demo with the info needed, but here let these pretty gyazo's speak for themselves!
Also make sure to grab this hair out by Nani in her mainstore! Its gorgeous <3 Its on discount, but only for this month!
www.flickr.com/photos/kittynapkitkat/37705449281/in/datep...
♥ Here & Here
♥ The Exclusive for 25 points
♥ Fitted for Maitreya (Belleza and Slink coming at a later date! Will be announced in store group, and on Facebook/Flickr, will be updated along with other items needing a Slink/Belleza update! Updates will come when things calm down a bit for me, also after Epiphany is over)
♥ 21 commons & 3 rares, rares are set to 10%
♥ 75L$ per play
♥ Please make sure to demo! No refunds. In the demo there's also notecards with more information
. Ride the fairy dust on over to Epiphany !~
After the event is over, the item will be available at my mainstore : here & My marketplace: here
#secondlife#mysecondlifecreations#secondlife robot#this is queued so im not rly hear right now lmao#recovering from lack of sleep#zbrush#3ds max#secondlife epiphany
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Lost in a Hedge!
We’re almost done the first week of our Changeling: The Lost 2nd Edition Kickstarter, and it’s going great! Not only are we racing past Stretch Goals like we’re being chased by a Huntsman, but the community response has been terrific. Jumpin’ James and I are going to sit down this week and talk about a bunch of things you’ve been asking about, but I do want to touch on a few points right away.
First, we had some concern when we went live with the KS, because for this KS we are releasing a few chapters of the completed text each week via Backer Only Updates. Our plan is that all of the text will be released by the start of the last week of the Kickstarter, and that you can then decide if the writing is what you are looking for.
Seriously, our intention is that you will be able to decide and keep, update, or drop your pledge as you see fit and however you decide, that’s totally cool.
So because you can cancel your pledge at any time until the KS funds, there’s really no “paywall” at all.
As for why we chose to set it up this way, well, first of all, we wanted folks to be able to read the complete text. But we have noticed that when we do a “here’s a link to the complete text right here in the KS page, tell us what you think”, that the conversation gets pretty noisy. But only for the front end of the campaign.
We’d like to have an ongoing conversation about the text, and for all of you to have something new and interesting to talk about, each week.
Besides that, we really do hold to something I’ve said so many times that it seems like our mantra for Kickstarter: Every Kickstarter Is Different. So we are very interested in continuing to fine-tune how we do our KSs. For efficiency and effectiveness, yes, that’s better for our business and for backers. And also for our sense of being creative, of treating our projects as individual things that can be made more fun to be involved with and evoke more of the feel of the setting and gameplay (even our Kickstarters).
W20 Changing Ways illustration by Leo Albiero
And now with Jumpin’ James starting to apply some ideas he’s been thinking about to them, we’re really lucky to get a fresh brain on our KSs. For example, our “classic PDF” bundle that is often really popular as a pledge or an Add-on has been something that I and Mighty Matt McElroy have created for most of our KSs as a static, “here you go!” sort of offering. But James has changed that with this KS, and now we have Stretch Goals that add additional PDFs to the bundle so that our backers get more value as the KS continues to grow.
Finally, to clarify one of our Stretch Goal rewards, the additional Kiths that can be unlocked are going to be added to the previously announced Kith and Kin supplement. We were and are unclear in the way that was described, even allowing the Book of Kiths shorthand we were using to show through publicly. That caused confusion, and was our bad. (And now we’re kind of stuck with that title as part of what we’re doing, because a bunch of backers are used to it.)
While all that was happening with the Changeling: The Lost 2e KS, we had a crew at PAX Unplugged in my hometown of Philadelphia, PA, that included myself and Mega Meghan Fitzgerald, one of the CtL2 devs. (Why is she Mega? Because she runs amazing demo games at cons one after the other and people were so excited and loving the adventure so much that they were pledging to the Kickstarter on their phones at the table!) So, some of the people who could clarify things with the KS were not readily available.
Neall Raemonn Price and our new friend Nick from The Wrecking Crew were also running exciting games of Exalted, Scion, Pugmire, etc. for folks pretty much from 10am til midnight. The three of them were made of win.
The PAX Unplugged con itself was really good, I think, for Onyx Path, if for no other reason than allowing all of us to talk with gamers who did not know us or what we do.
Heck, for the first time in four years I found myself explaining what a tabletop RPG was and how you play them.
So, for everybody who talks about how unnecessary those “What is Roleplaying” intro sections are in RPG books: nope.
This exposure to a wider audience was one of the objectives we had in mind for attending this particular convention, so that is a win. We also talked to so many attendees who did know us, or who backed one of our KSs, or who had amazing stories about how old WW and now Onyx Path had influenced their lives. I have heard a fair number of those stories about the WW games over the years, and it’s gratifying that Onyx has been around long enough now to have also made a difference for some folks.
We saw lots of old friends in the business, because just about every tabletop RPG publishers was attending in some capacity or another. White Wolf was right next to us (a coincidence, I swear) and so we had some great synergy with them. Plus anytime I can start the day with Jason Carl, Karim Muammar, and Shane von Shane in their black-clad undead beauty next to us, it just makes things a little bit better.
They were demoing parts of Vampire: The Masquerade 5th Edition both there at the booth and in their demo area, and the very excited players seemed to be almost in a frenzy of antici…
…pation!
While all these great conversations were going on, and boy did I just talk non-stop, we were also selling Changeling 20th PoDs, Chronicles of Darkness core books, Scarred Lands books, a smattering of our extra Deluxe W20s, W20 Changing Breeds, Exalted 3rds, and one Mage 20.
And Pugmire.
Always the Pugmire. It has proven to be the best game book to set up near the aisle so everybody can see the cover and all the dogs fighting the giant ants, and it just brings folks over. (We also sold out of the Monarchies of Mau Early Access PoDs we brought with us, so never fear, cat-lovers!) For a convention where we wanted to talk with new folks, it really did the trick.
Pugmire Audio Drama “Thank You, Darcy Cat”
It didn’t hurt that our dynamic duo of retail sales Dixie Cochran and Lisa Thomas were phenomenally good at engaging the people that came over to ask what Pugmire is all about and stayed to check out all our other offerings and pick up a brochure at least!
One thing though, if you weren’t there, or missed us, and the talk of these Deluxe books and Pugmire being available sounds like you missed out – not so! You can check out the links in The Blurbs! below for Indy Press Revolution and Studio2, who are selling Pugmire and our excess Deluxes.
I don’t know if they have a deadline for ordering books as holiday gifts, either you directly or through a Friendly Local Game Store, but any of these would be great gifts. The Deluxes for that true fan in your life, or Pugmire for pet-lovers, kids, or folks who want something a little different to try.
There is a deadline for ordering Print on Demand books from DriveThru if you want them by Christmas, and that is tomorrow, so short but fair warning!
Wraith20 illustration by John Cobb
One thing we certainly demonstrated at the convention, with our booth background image, our brochures, and just the range of books displayed in the booth, we have:
Many Worlds. One Path.
BLURBS!
KICKSTARTER:
What a terrifyingly great first week! We funded in about a day, and have already blown through six Stretch Goals and are nearing 200% funded! The goals include the first novella: Autumn, two new sections for the Kith and Kin book that we’re calling the Book of Kiths, and the first sections for the CtL2 Companion: Entitlements and Freeholds. One Stretch Goal has also added another PDF to our CtL 1st Edition PDF reward!
Come along as the seasons change and we reveal the next chapters of the core book text to backers!
Next, our Trinity Continuum Kickstarter will start in early January!
ON SALE NOW:
As we try and find ways to enable our community to more easily play our games, the Onyx Dice Rolling App is now live! Our dev team has been doing updates since we launched based on the excellent use-case comments by our community, and this thing is both rolling and rocking! Here are the links for the Apple and Android versions:
http://ift.tt/2zjnD0c
http://ift.tt/2hhT5Fk
Three different screenshots, above.
(The Solar Anima special Dice)
ON AMAZON AND BARNES & NOBLE:
We’re delighted to announce the opening of our ebook stores on Amazon and Barnes & Noble! You can now read our fiction from the comfort and convenience of your Kindle (from Amazon) and Nook (from Barnes & Noble). Our initial selection includes these fiction anthologies:
Vampire: The Masquerade: The Endless Ages Anthology (Kindle, Nook)
Werewolf: The Apocalypse: Rites of Renown: When Will You Rage II (Kindle, Nook)
Mage: The Ascension: Truth Beyond Paradox (Kindle, Nook)
Chronicles of Darkness: The God-Machine Chronicle Anthology (Kindle, Nook)
Mummy: The Curse: Curse of the Blue Nile (Kindle, Nook)
Beast: The Primordial: The Primordial Feast Anthology (Kindle, Nook)
And here are six more fiction books:
Vampire: The Masquerade: Of Predators and Prey: The Hunters Hunted II Anthology (Kindle, Nook)
Werewolf: The Apocalypse: The Poison Tree (Kindle, Nook)
Werewolf: The Apocalypse: Songs of the Sun and Moon: Tales of the Changing Breeds (Kindle, Nook)
Vampire: The Requiem: The Strix Chronicle Anthology (Kindle, Nook)
Werewolf: The Forsaken: The Idigam Chronicle Anthology (Kindle, Nook)
Mage: The Awakening: The Fallen World Chronicle Anthology (Kindle, Nook)
Andand six more more:
Vampire: The Masquerade: The Beast Within Anthology (Kindle, Nook)
Werewolf: The Apocalypse: W20 Cookbook (Kindle, Nook)
Exalted: Tales from the Age of Sorrows (Kindle, Nook)
Chronicles of Darkness: Tales of the Dark Eras (Kindle, Nook)
Promethean: The Created: The Firestorm Chronicle Anthology (Kindle, Nook)
Demon: The Descent: Demon: Interface (Kindle, Nook)
And even more books are now on Amazon and the Nook store!:
Scarred Lands: Death in the Walled Warren (Kindle, Nook)
V20 Dark Ages: Cainite Conspiracies (Kindle, Nook)
Chronicles of Darkness: Strangeness in the Proportion (Kindle, Nook)
Vampire: The Requiem: Silent Knife (Kindle, Nook)
Mummy: The Curse: Dawn of Heresies (Kindle, Nook)
OUR SALES PARTNERS:
We’re working with Studio2 to get Pugmire out into stores, as well as to individuals through their online store. You can pick up the traditionally printed main book, the Screen, and the official Pugmire dice through our friends there!
http://ift.tt/2w0aaEW
Looking for our Deluxe or Prestige Edition books? Here’s the link to the press release we put out about how Onyx Path is now selling through Indie Press Revolution: http://ift.tt/1ZlTT6z
You can now order wave 2 of our Deluxe and Prestige print overrun books, including Deluxe Mage 20th Anniversary, and Deluxe V20 Dark Ages! And Screens…so many Screens!
And you can now order Pugmire: the book, the screen, and the dice! http://ift.tt/1pOsnTb
DRIVETHRURPG.COM:
Legacy of Lies, the V20 Dark Ages Jumpstart, goes undead in PDF and physical book PoD versions on DTRPG this Wednesday!
TWO PRINCES. BITTER RIVALS. AND A COTERIE CAUGHT BETWEEN THEM.
Marcus Verus, the vampiric Prince of Chester, secretly prepares to go into torpor. Should his plans be made public, the Prince knows the wolves — both real and imagined — would launch an attack, threatening all within his domain.
That’s where you come in.
Legacy of Lies includes:
Basic rules for players and Storytellers
Introduction to the Vampire: The Masquerade Dark Ages setting
Introductory adventure
Characters for players and Storytellers
Appearing on DriveThruRPG is the Advance PDF for Arms of the Chosen for Exalted 3rd Edition! http://ift.tt/2A0ga4f
Take up the panoply of legendary heroes and lost ages, and awaken the world-shaking might of their Evocations. Before the dawn of time, the Exalted wielded god-metal blades to cast down the makers of the universe. In an ancient epoch of forgotten glories, Creation’s greatest artificers forged unimaginable wonders and miracle-machines.
Now, in the Age of Sorrows, kingdoms go to war over potent artifacts, scavenger princes risk everything to uncover relics of the past, and the Exalted forge great arms and armor on the anvil of legend. These treasures are yours to master.
Discover the mystical power of the five magical materials and the secrets of creating your own Evocations. Wield weapons of fabled might and don the armor of mythic heroes, making their puissance your own. Claim Creation’s wonders: the miraculous tools of the Chosen, living automatons, flying machines, hearthstones, and more. And unleash the mighty warstriders, titanic god-engines of conquest and devastation, to once more shake Creation with their footfalls.
NOW on DriveThruCards, the Pugmire Card Set One (Trick, Condition, and Initiative Cards) are helpful visual aids for your Pugmire gaming fun! http://ift.tt/2zC3kuY
Enhance your Pugmire game with this set of player aid cards! These helpful visual aids make your Pugmire gaming easier! Lay them out next to your sheet for ease of reference during play, and to keep track of what you can do, what affects your character, and when they get to act.
Set one contains one card each of every trick in the game, as well as every condition. It also has a set of initiative cards to track player and non-player character actions during combat. Sets two and three (covering artisan and shepherd spells) coming soon!
What dark secrets do the eldest vampires hold? Find out in Thousand Years of Night for Vampire: The Requiem! PDF and physical book PoD versions available on DriveThruRPG.com. http://ift.tt/2sV8lZR
You may think that with a multitude of people coming, going, dying and running away, we’d be tired, done, or ready to give up.
Instead, I find myself restless, looking for the next thing.
There’s always a next thing, and I for one am not yet ready to die.
– Elder Kincaid, Daeva Crone
This book includes:
• Detailed instructions on creating elder vampires, including how to base chronicles around them
• A look into the lives of elders, how they spend their nights, who they work with, and why including their roles in both their clans and covenants
• New Devotions, Merits, and Rituals for elder vampires
• The kinds of creatures that pose a threat to elder vampires, including Inamorata, Lamia, Sons of Phobos, a new elder conspiracy, and more!
Is a life of running and hiding a life worth living? We say yes. There’s always something between the running and the hiding, and those moments of grace make it all worthwhile.
The Huntsmen Chronicle Anthology is a perfect companion piece to Changeling: The Lost, 2nd Edition. These stories spin tales of the Lost, of those abducted and enslaved by fairies. Those who escaped, but whose captors will stop at nothing to find them. These fairies summon forth the Huntsmen, primordial hunters who understand nothing but pursuit and capture. The Huntsmen are unstoppable monsters, and the Lost can only look to each other for respite, rare comfort, and rarer trust.
The Hedge has parted and you can get the Advance PDF of The Huntsmen Chronicle Fiction Anthology for Changeling: The Lost 2nd Edition at DTRPG.com! http://ift.tt/2z4uZnU
For over 20 years, the artists of Mage: The Ascension have conjured spirits and constructed hypertech that can transform reality on a whim.
Within this retrospective, those artists and images depict the ever-changing face of magick. From the debut edition to the twenty-first century, this book explores the people behind the pictures, the process of putting such books together, the story behind Mage’s Tarot iconography, and more.
Featuring the artwork of Echo Chernik, Joshua Gabriel Timbrook, Michael Gaydos, Mark Jackson, Leif Jones, Michael Kaluta, Steve Prescott, Alex Sheikman, Christopher Shy…and many, many more.
The Art of Mage: 20 Years and More has manifested on DTRPG in PDF and physical book PoD versions! Here: http://ift.tt/2iwP1Rr
A Land Where Legends Walk
Drawing enthusiastically on Greek mythology, the revised and re-imagined Scarred Lands nonetheless retains its place as a modern fantasy RPG setting. This is a world shaped by gods and monsters, and only the greatest of heroes can expect to be counted among them. The most populous continent of Scarn, Ghelspad, plays host to vast unexplored regions, hides unsolved riddles from ancient cultures, and taunts adventures with the promise of undiscovered riches hidden among the ruins of older civilizations.
Yet the myths of the Scarred Lands are relatively recent events. The effects of the Titanswar still ripple through the world, and the heroines and villains of many of these stories are part of living memory, if not still living.
The Award-Winning Fantasy Setting Returns
Scarred Lands has been a favorite fantasy setting since the release of the Creature Collection for the d20 System in 2000. In subsequent years, over 40 titles were published for Scarred Lands, making it one of the most fully supported fantasy RPG settings ever and the premiere product line of Sword & Sorcery Studios.
Available in both 5th Edition and Pathfinder compatible versions! PDF and PoD formats available NOW!
http://ift.tt/2fEO9YJ
http://ift.tt/2fELqyx
Heroes, Villains, and Others in Between!
This tome is a revision of the original book by the same title, originally published for use with 3rd edition rules for the world’s most popular roleplaying game. In this revised edition of The Wise & the Wicked, all the same characters have returned (and we’ve added some new ones, too!), for use with the Scarred Lands Player’s Guide.
Champions of Gods and Titans
The Wise & the Wicked introduces a rogue’s gallery of the Scarred Lands’ movers and shakers, characters who carry out the will of the gods or the fallen titans. These non-player characters can be friends, enemies, or simply convenient resources for the player characters in your game.
Inside, find villains such as King Virduk of Calastia, the Black Dragon, along with his wife, the beautiful (and black-hearted) Queen Geleeda; the Grand Vizier to King Virduk, the wicked warrior-mage Anteas; and the sinister general of Virduk’s northern armies, Archduke Traviak the Steel-Fisted. At the other end of the spectrum, meet the gracious Lady Ariniel, the Swan Knight, champion of Madriel; Kimer the Shatterer, bearer of the Earth Sword of Scarn and tenacious foe of the titanspawn of the north; and King Thain the Just, the Aleking, ruler of Burok Torn. And many others beside!
Here you’ll find a fascinating compendium of characters from the Scarred Lands, but easily transported into campaigns set elsewhere. In addition, find multiple appendices full of new magic items and artifacts, class archetypes and prestige classes, new feats, new creatures and races, and more.
Available in Pathfinder and 5th Edition versions! PDF and PoD formats available NOW!
http://ift.tt/2zdVHXS
http://ift.tt/2zeEpd8
CONVENTIONS!
In December, Matthew Dawkins, Dave Brookshaw, and Eddy Webb are going to be at Dragonmeet in London. https://www.dragonmeet.co.uk/ Expect plenty of playful class warfare as these three mix it up, represent Onyx Path, and generally redefine the term “hooligans”.
Planning ahead for 2018, we’re heading back to Midwinter Game Convention in Milwaukee, January 11-14, where we’re going to be bringing a big crew of many of your favorite Onyx Path designers and we’ll be running demos and making some special announcements at the show! http://midwintergamingconvention.com
And now, the new project status updates!
DEVELOPMENT STATUS FROM ROLLICKING ROSE (projects in bold have changed status since last week): No changes this week.
First Draft (The first phase of a project that is about the work being done by writers, not dev prep)
M20 Gods and Monsters (Mage: the Ascension 20th Anniversary Edition)
M20 Book of the Fallen (Mage: the Ascension 20th Anniversary Edition)
C20 Novel (Jackie Cassada) (Changeling: the Dreaming 20th Anniversary Edition)
Deviant: The Renegades (Deviant: The Renegades)
Redlines
Hunter: the Vigil 2e core (Hunter: the Vigil 2nd Edition)
They Came From Beneath the Sea! Rulebook (TCFBtS!)
Second Draft
WoD Ghost Hunters (World of Darkness)
Tales of Good Dogs – Pugmire Fiction Anthology (Pugmire)
Exalted 3rd Novel by Matt Forbeck (Exalted 3rd Edition)
Night Horrors: The Tormented (Promethean: The Created 2nd Edition)
Monarchies of Mau (Monarchies of Mau)
Development
Signs of Sorcery (Mage: the Awakening Second Edition)
SL Ring of Spiragos (Pathfinder – Scarred Lands 2nd Edition)
Ring of Spiragos (5e – Scarred Lands 2nd Edition)
Scion: Origin (Scion 2nd Edition)
Scion: Hero (Scion 2nd Edition)
Trinity Continuum Core Rulebook (The Trinity Continuum)
Trinity Continuum: Aeon Rulebook (The Trinity Continuum)
GtS Geist 2e core (Geist: the Sin-Eaters Second Edition)
WW Manuscript Approval:
Editing:
Ex Novel 2 (Aaron Rosenberg) (Exalted 3rd Edition)
Pan’s Guide for New Pioneers (Pugmire)
Dragon-Blooded (Exalted 3rd Edition)
Kithbook Boggans (Changeling: the Dreaming 20th Anniversary Edition)
The Realm (Exalted 3rd Edition)
Post-Editing Development:
Changeling: the Lost 2nd Edition, featuring the Huntsmen Chronicle (Changeling: the Lost 2nd Edition)
Indexing:
ART DIRECTION FROM MIRTHFUL MIKE:
In Art Direction
Cavaliers of Mars – Art meeting this Tuesday for sure!
Ex3 Monthly Stuff
Scion Origins
Ring of Spiragos
Changeling: the Lost 2
Trinity Continuum – Going to review art notes for pieces for KS.
Pugmire – Vinsen’s Tomb
Ex3 Dragon Blooded
Marketing Stuff
In Layout
Beast PG
Pugmire/Scarred Lands Community Content
Book of Freeholds
DtD Enemy Action – Going to Josh
Pugmire Fetch Quest – Working on sample designs for more playtesting.
Proofing
Wraith 20 – Second layout proof/PgXX proof with Dansky.
Pentex Indoctrination Manual – At WW for approval.
VtR Half Damned – At WW for approval.
W20 Changing Ways – First proof.
At Press
Beckett Screen – Shipped to shipper.
Scarred Land PGs & Wise and the Wicked PF & 5e – To fulfillment shipper. PDF and PoD physical book versions on sale at DTRPG.
Changeling: the Dreaming 20th Anniversary Edition (Changeling: the Dreaming 20th Anniversary Edition) – Deluxe Edition cover and Screen in the works. Waiting for Deluxe cover proofs.
V20DA Jumpstart – PDF/PoD versions available Wednesday on DTRPG.
Prince’s Gambit – Print and Play version updated. Getting specs from printer.
M20 Cookbook – Layout waiting for errata.
CtL Huntsmen Chronicle Anthology – Layout waiting for errata.
V20 Beckett’s Jyhad Diary– Backer PDF errata with Devs.
C20 Ready Made Characters – Finishing Backer PDF errata gathering.
Ex 3 Arms of the Chosen – Advance PDF on sale on DTRPG, gathering errata.
Pugmire Artisan Cards – Files uploaded and processing.
Pugmire Shepherd Cards – Files uploaded and processing.
Thank You, Darcy Cat Audio Drama – Being sent to Pugmire backers this week.
TODAY’S REASON TO CELEBRATE: Thanksgiving! After this month’s double cons, and other “cons”, it is a good day to reflect on the good stuff. The stuff that makes life worth living. I am, of course, referring to MST3K Turkey Day streaming in a marathon. While Uncle Joe watches football, it’s Joel, Mike, the Mads, and the Bots for me!
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Ey yo fuckers
You remember how i said i’d make a list of good games n shit right? Well here the fuck it is scoob. PLEASE REBLOG THIS IT TOOK HOURS TO PUT TOGETHER OH MY GOD
Cute Demon Crashers! - Cute Demon Crashers! is a silly little short game that gives a lazy virgin college student a fun and safe space to explore her first sexual experience with a partner of her choice, if she so desires. Warnings: 18+
Desolate village - Desolate Village is a Adventure-horror game developed for the 2016 Pixel Horror Jam. The game deals with a the protagonist name Alex, as he wakes up in a village filled with talk animals villagers that all know who he is. But Alex does not remember who they are or how they got in the village. Warnings: Gore
Lads in Distress - The whole of Lunar Kingdom is abuzz with excitement and curiosity - Princess Charming is throwing a royal ball to celebrate her 18th birthday, much to everyone's surprise. Invitations have been sent to nobles and royals from all neighboring nations, although Charming and her parents only really care about the princes. After all, everyone knows that the true purpose of the ball is for Charming to find a man suitable as her husband so she can form an advantageous political alliance, or even merge their nations together, to save her kingdom from poverty. Unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately?) for Charming, the princes may need to be rescued just as much as her kingdom does. Warnings: None
Love Is Strange - In Love is Strange, you play as Max Caulfield, an 18-year-old in her second year at the prestigious Blackwell Academy in the sleepy seaside town of Arcadia Bay, Oregon. Max, who aspires to become a famous photographer, finds herself challenged by the prospect of entering a photography contest hosted by her school. To be able to enter the contest, she has to pick a partner to work with. From there on out, what happens is up to you. Warnings: None (that i’m aware of, it didn’t interest me enough to finish it (not saying it’s bad!!! just not my cup of tea))
Out of sight - When Lina decided to go to the park to finish reading a book she couldn't have anticipated that misplacing her glasses could lead to paranormal encounters. Warnings: Death
Pretty please - A short game about a lady who goes into a beauty clinic to "fix a few things". Warnings: blood, mildly unsettling imagery
Seduce me the otome - "It seemed like the start of something new. Something that would change."
You are a senior in high school along with your two best friends, Naomi Patterson and Suzu Cappini. You are also the granddaughter of Harold Anderson, the CEO and founder of Anderson Toys, a toy company sworn to give children amazing products and give a large part of their profit to charity.
One day, you get called home to attend your grandfather's funeral. After the funeral, you learn that you have inherited his large estate. Your father suggests you move in immediately, so the next day, you move out of your parents home and into your estate.
When you enter your new home, however, you see five injured, yet very handsome men on the lobby floor. They eventually awaken and make it known that they were attacked by a group of dangerous 'misfits' and ran to find shelter, passing out as soon as they entered your home.
You find out that they are incubi, 'demons who consume and use sexual energy of humans to survive'. With nowhere to go and a target on their backs, they ponder what what to do. Out of sympathy, you offer your home as refuge for a while in exchange for minor servitude (it is a big house, after all). They happily agree.
What will happen as the incubi get comfy? Why exactly did they come the human world? Who are the 'misfits', and will they stop pursuing them so the incubi can leave?
...Will you WANT them to leave? (it has a sequel, among other things!! very good!!!!!) Warnings: mentions of blood, guns & other weapons, optional sex scenes
The shadows that run along side our car - The road is long.
Two strangers sit side by side as night falls over. The car speeds down the open highway.
Without a soul around them, everything seems to slip away. On a journey to no one knows where, all they have is words and time. And that time is dwindling fast.
The shadows are chasing. Warnings: mentions of suicide, violence, death, and mentions of zombies (im not sure if they actually show up, ill update this if i see any)
Solanaceae Another Time - After bumping into a strange witch, Sal is told he was once the witch's lover in a past life. Though doubtful, Sal takes a leap of faith and gets his fortune read by the witch. What he learns sends him on a month long journey of self discovery and magical encounters... Warnings: sex (but you can avoid this in the start of the game)
This, my soul - When your ship and fellow crew members are destroyed during a routine mission by space debris, you are rescued by the one laborer-class android who happened to be nearby... Now the two of you must spend an entire three-month journey alone with each other aboard the small, maintenance ship that is taking you back to civilization.
Along the way, there is little on board to keep you occupied... save the android. He calls himself Silas. As the situation forces you to get to know one another, you quickly figure out that while he may not have emotions the way WE understand them, he IS a construct designed to learn, adapt, and serve... Warnings: suggestive content
Cinderella Phenomenon - Four years after the end of the Great War and the loss of her mother, Crown Princess Lucette of Angielle is still struggling to come to terms with her new life and step-family. Cold-hearted and bitter, Lucette fails to recognize the suffering of those around her as she is consumed by grief and resentment. But Lucette's life is once again turned upside down when she becomes a victim of the Fairytale Curse.Join Lucette as she goes from riches to rags and journeys to regain her life and break her curse. Warnings: none as of yet, but i’m still playing through
Unfinished games:
What's your sign quiz - In this teaser story, the 12 signs of the Zodiac need your help. But not before getting to know you a little first! This game is a personality quiz where they try to guess...
What's Your Sign?
With the option of a short or long quiz (12 or 24 questions), there's lots of replay ability with the various responses you'll get. Get to know all of your astrological faves before you begin your magical adventure together! Warnings: none
Date or Die - In this demo, you'll see the opening moments of the game, where you'll be introduced to the cast of characters, find your match, and get an overview of the stakes involved. In addition to containing a completely different script from the original demo, this prologue also features new sprites and artwork for all characters, introduces one or two faces you might not have seen before, and gives you a clearer idea of what to expect when you first open the full game! Warnings: mentions of killing, and treats toward a younger unseen party
Dr.Frank - After being kicked out of both his PhD program (plant science) as well as medical school (Pathology), Dr. Frank had pretty much resolved himself to a life of solitude and science. That is, until a handsome stranger knocked on his door and swept him off his feet. Dominik seemed to be the perfect boyfriend- attentive, caring, and interested in Dr. Frank's work.
Maybe too interested.
Three months into the rainbow-colored relationship, Dominik runs off with Dr. Frank's lifelong research on resurrection to present at the annual prestigious Hindenberg University Conference, under his own name.
Livid, Dr. Frank decides the only course of action: Revenge.
Not only is Dr. Frank going to one-up Dominik's presentation by presenting the world's first artificial life form, but Dr. Frank is going to make said life form the world's hottest, most beautiful boyfriend.
EVER. Warnings: grave robbing, bad jokes
Paws and Effect My Dogs Are Human! - Charlie's got everything a quirky millennial could want: A new job, an upcoming party, and super-cute Pomeranians. Naturally, it all goes wrong.
Charlie's birthday is in a few days and she's looking forward to a quiet, at-home party with a few friends. But a small (read: not small) problem arises when, due to inexplicable circumstances, her two Pomeranians transform into humans! Why did this happen? What can be done? Can dogs be trusted with fingers?
With more questions than answers, Charlie finds herself embroiled in a nonsensical adventure with her once-canine companions. As her dogs' many personality quirks hound them in their human lives, how will Charlie cope with her new circumstances? Warnings: none as of yet
The Letter - In the outskirts of Luxbourne City stands a 17th-century English mansion, rumored to be haunted by vengeful spirits. After reading a letter discovered inside on the day of its open house, seven people find themselves trapped in a vicious cycle of madness plaguing the Ermengarde Mansion for centuries. Will they be able to free themselves from it, or will they become another casualty? Warnings: death, disturbing imagery, blood, gore, jumpscares, general horror warnings
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our broken white rose (3/?) ⇾ camren
a/n: i was gonna update tomorrow after wedding planning with my fiancée but she’s with her dad doing father, daughter shit and im home alone, bored and cold so after this if y'all wanna pm me, im not opposed to it. seriously. be my friend. pLEASE! ok enjoy this chapter. please comment as you read, let me know what you think, answer end of the chapter questions and vote! ilyy..
-after writing chapter: i started this at like 6 PM east coast time AND ITS LITERALLY 3:30 AM. fuck lmao. ok enjoy
***
***
I lightly drummed my fingertips on the wooden table, humming to myself as I glanced up at the clock. Tori should be here any minute now.
Its been about a week since my encounter with Tori at Luca’s Ice Cream Shoppe and since then, I’ve managed to give her my number and semi let her into my life. It’s weird. I haven’t made “friends” with anyone other than my co-workers since Camila’s passing. The only person I had was Lucy and if she wasn’t watching the girls for me, she was spending time with Kandee (kay-n-dee). So it was nice but, weird, having someone I can just talk to whenever.
Today happened to be Tori’s last day in California and as weird as it sounded, I’m going to miss her. Her flight was to take off in about three hours from now and she was coming in to collect the demo she had recorded for her friend Karla and the few solo tracks we managed to edit and get done.
When I heard the creek of the studio door opening, I turned around and smiled at Tori as she shoved her wild curls out of her face and hurried in. “I’m so sorry I’m late. The checkout line at my hotel was crazy. I had to checkout before noon or they’d charge me for the night and I’ve been there since eight in the morning,” she explained with a loud sigh. “I’m sorry.”
I shook my head, chuckling softly. “It’s fine Tori. I’m in no rush, you’re good,” I shrugged it off.
She nodded, seemingly relieved. “Thanks.”
Walking over to the recording booth, I grabbed the two CD cases before walking back over to Tori who was in the process of putting her hair up. “This is your demo and your other recordings,” I explained, handing it over when her hands were finally free.
A wide smile formed on her lips. She took the CDs from me before throwing her arms around me. I stood in shock for a few moments before laughing awkwardly and hugged her back. She pulled away, dimples on display. “Thank you so much Lauren. I can’t wait until Karla and my mom sees these,” she said, looking down at them with nothing but excitement.
I smiled. “I’m sure they’ll love it. You sound amazing.”
I watched as a small blush fell upon her cheeks before she looked up at me. “Thanks a lot Laur. I couldn’t have done all this without you.”
“Yeah you could’ve. You’re incredible all on your own,” I said. “Have you ever thought of moving out here and starting a music career? Any label would be fucking stupid not to sign you. I could even get you in touch with the label my w…” I trailed off, waving my hands around, hoping she’d catch on. She looked at me for a moment before her mouth formed an ‘O’ shape and nodded. “Yeah. With her label. It’s really hard to come across good talent nowadays. The industry could use real people like yourself.”
Tori shook her head, a bashful smile gracing itself on her lips. “I don’t know about all of that… my family is in Alaska. And Karla’s having a baby soon and her fiancée isn’t too fond of leaving town let alone the state.”
I shrugged, “Who says Karla and her crew has to come? I think you should put your dreams before them. But that’s just me. I don’t want you to feel pressured or anything, but if you ever feel like it’s the right time, you know where to reach me.”
Tori nodded slowly, in thought. “Well, Karla’s my best friend. And I don’t think I’d want to leave her all alone while I’m over here. And my mom and her sisters and brothers…” she shook her head. “Music is just a fantasy of mine I’ve gotten the chance to make reality within this last week and a half thanks to you. But I think after this, I’ll just let it stay a fantasy. I have too many people back home to just up and abandon to live some dream that’ll probably fail,” a small frown replaced her perfect smile.
I rolled my eyes, shaking my head before leading her over to the lounging couches to take a seat. My feet were hurting. I thought for a second, attempting to gather my words. “When I left my family and friends, I had just turned sixteen,” I started. “It was the scariest thing of my life. I auditioned to start my dream as a solo act but instead got paired with four girls who absolutely changed my life. It was beyond terrifying to be just a teenager leaving home. I left my little sister and brother, my grandma had died while I was on the road.
“I missed so much of my siblings growing up. And sometimes I really regretted it. I didn’t get to go to college like my brother and sister and everyone else I grew up with. I didn’t get that normal upbringing. But if I had the chance to go back and change anything, I wouldn’t. Because my dream had come true. I got to tour the world with my favorite people for four fucking years, married the woman of my dreams, had two beautiful daughters and now work with helping others make their dreams come true.
"It may be scary, and it may be hard letting go, but God it’s the best feeling in the world - knowing you’re impacting just one persons life with your voice. Its incredible. And I wouldn’t be sharing this with you if I didn’t think you were cut out for it. You remind me a lot of two people. One of my former bandmate’s, Ally. Always wanting to care about everyone, sometimes forgetting herself.
"And my wife… so much talent but so scared of upsetting people that they sit on it for years. When she left our group, people hated her. Hell, I hated her. But what I loved about her and still love to this day was that she finally got up one day and showcased her talent the way she wanted to. Not the way the world wanted her to. And hopefully that one day comes soon for you too.”
I wasn’t sure where all of that had come from. It seemed the the words just kept on falling through my ass crack and out my mouth and it wouldn’t stop. Kinda like when Dinah made those tacos all those years ago and we had only one bathroom. What a night.
Tori smiled slightly at me before laughing to herself, “Your wife seemed like an amazing woman.”
I shook my head, “Not seemed. She’s not gone. She’s always with me.”
Tori nodded, apologizing. “I’m sorry. Seems. I’m sure she’s really proud of you. Wherever she may be.”
I looked down at my fingers before sighing. I missed her. But I wouldn’t cry. Not today. Looking back up I smiled. “I sure hope so.”
***
“Promise you’ll visit again?” I asked, pulling away from Tori and I’s hug. I had offered to drop her off at the airport, insisting that Uber’s were crazy and Taxi’s were overpriced but really, I just wanted to spend a little more time with her. Of course she protested a million times. That’s something I learned about Tori in this last week. She hated feeling like a burden or like she was bothering you. I admired that about her.
A wide smile took over her features, dimples on full display saying hello to LAX. “Of course. I’ll text you when I land,” she promised.
Nodding once more, I watched as she turned around and heading to check in her luggage. Sighing to myself, I proceeded out the airport. Well, there goes another person in my life.
When I returned home, Lucy was watching TV on the couch, phone in hand and different pouches of candy scattered all over. I rolled my eyes.
“What are you, a troll?” I laughed, plopping down beside her.
She glanced at me with a raised eyebrow before looking back down at her phone. “Well hello to you too,” she mumbled.
“Where are the girls?” I asked, looking up towards the stairs. The house didn’t seem to be upside down like usual.
Lucy shut her phone off, looking at me. “Luna is probably sleeping off her sugar rush and Lana is in her art room.”
“You gave them candy?!” I yelled, throwing a couch pillow at her to which she caught with ease. “Stop trying to give my kids diabetes! You do this every time.”
She rolled her eyes. “I’m just trying to sweeten up their lives. You’re the one making them drink fucking green vegetable shakes telling them they’d get cancer if they didn’t. The only thing at risk of giving those children cancer is whatever is in that poison you call health,” she huffed, opening a new pack of skittles and downing a handful.
I looked at her for a moment before sighing to myself. “You’re absolutely ridiculous.”
“Yet you use to be in love with me.”
“Yeah, before you cheated on me and brought another woman in my bed,” I blurted out. Lucy turned to look at me, obvious pain behind her deep brown eyes. I sighed, shaking my head at myself. No wonder I had no friends. I’m such a mood killer. “Sorry, I was just fucking around.”
Lucy took a deep breath, looking down as she fumbled with the empty pack of skittles. “I know. I just can’t help but feel you’ll never fully forgive me for that…”
I shrugged, “I already forgave you. I guess it’s too sensitive of a topic to joke about.”
Lucy laughed humorlessly to herself, before looking at me again. “You say you forgave me but if you did, you would have given us another shot last year when I brought it up.”
I shook my head, “Don’t start again please. You’re with Kandee.”
“I know that, but you know if you would’ve given me a chance I’d be with you. Helping you raise Luna and Lana. I love those girls… and you. I don’t want you to think I’m trying to get you to replace Camila–”
“Can you just stop?” I cut her off. I looked away, not wanting to see the pain behind her eyes. “I thought we agreed on only being friends, Lucy,” I sighed. “Besides, my wife just died–”
“Oh my god Lauren its been four fucking years. She’s not your wife. She’s a dead woman. They found her remains. She’s gone. Luna and Lana hardly fucking remember her. Stop talking about her! We’re over it, you need to get over it too.”
I looked at Lucy in nothing but disbelief. Taking several calming deep breaths, I blocked out her attempts to apologize as I made my way up the stairs, stopping the tears from falling. Halfway up the stairs, I looked back down at Lucy who was now standing, getting ready to follow me up. “Please go home to your girlfriend and stop telling me how to live my life simply because you can’t get over the past.”
***
Tori tossed and turned in her bed. It was her first night back in Alaska and although she was happy to see her mom again, she’s been battling with an unsettling feeling in the pit of her stomach since earlier that day when she had went over to visit Karla, only for Kristen (Lola) to throw some absurd excuse as to why she couldn’t come in.
*Flashback*
Ringing the doorbell by the wooden door, Tori gripped the box of Hawaiian Pizza tighter from excitement. She had just arrived no less than two hours ago and was ready to surprise Karla with a box of her favorite pizza all while binge watching ‘Friends’.
When no one came to the door, she glanced at the driveway to make sure Kristen’s Dodge Durango was still there. Looking back at the closed door with a frown, she rang the doorbell two more times. “Maybe they just didn’t hear it,” she mumbled to herself.
A few minutes passed before she heard someone unlocking the several locks on the door. It was still crazy to her that Kristen felt that they needed six locks on one door, but she wasn’t one to judge.
When the wooden door to the cabin like three story home flew open, Tori smiled widely at Kristen, getting ready to walk in only to be stopped. Frowning, she shot Kristen a weird look. “Uh, I have pizza for Karla and I. I just got back from my trip,” she explained, waving the box of pizza in a form of obvious proof.
Kristen looked back into the house for a moment before stepping out and shutting the door behind her. Tori stumbled back, a confused frown permanently etched onto her lips. “What the hell? Why aren’t you letting me in?”
Kristen crossed her arms, looking at Tori with raised eyebrows. “Okay first, I have no obligation to let you into my home,” she started. “And two, Karla isn’t feeling too well. Pizza isn’t exactly something she should be eating.”
Ignoring Kirsten’s first comment, concern instantly washed over Tori. “What’s wrong with her? Why isn’t she feeling well?” She asked, attempting to weave around Kristen to go on inside. When she felt a strong arm shove her back, she grew angry. Light brown eyes glared at hazel ones. “What the fuck Kristen!”
Kristen rolled her eyes, holding Tori away. “She’s not having any visitors right now. She’s contagious.”
Tori scoffed, “That’s bullshit, I don’t care. Can I please just see her? To make sure she’s fine at least?”
Kristen raised an eyebrow, now glaring at Tori in annoyance. “What, do you not trust me? Just go home and rest Victoria. You probably have jet lag or something. You can come back next week.”
Tori’s eyes nearly fell out of their sockets. “Next week?! What the hell, please tell me what’s happening. Can I just say hi? I promise I’ll leave right after Kris,” she begged.
Her heart fell into her stomach when Kristen ignored her, walking back inside and shutting the door behind her. Concern was swarming throughout her body and she didn’t know what to do.
“Does Karla not wanna see me?” She mumbled to herself.
That was the only thing that made sense. Kristen wouldn’t intentionally keep her away like that. Even when Karla had strep throat, she was still allowed to see her. It wasn’t about it being contagious. Karla just didn’t want to see her anymore.
Frowning down at the box of pizza, she sighed, holding her tears in as she turned back around and headed back to her car.
***
Staring up at her bedroom ceiling, she huffed before crawling out of bed. Heading into the living room, she was about to make her way into the kitchen for some water when she realized her study room light was on. “I thought I turned that off…” she mumbled.
Crossing the floor of her living room and into her study room, she jumped nearly twenty feet into the air. Heart beating erratically, she held her chest as her breathing hitched.
“Oh hey Tori,” her mother greeted looking up from the computer screen in front of her before looking back down. “What’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
She took a deep breath before letting it out. “I didn’t know you decided to stay,” she mumbled out, pulling a chair up and sitting down.
Her mom raised an eyebrow at her, “That’s never bothered you before.”
“Yeah I know, I’m sorry. Just kinda scared me…”
“Alright. Well what are you doing up? Don’t you have work? It’s nearly four in the morning.”
Sighing dramatically, she ran her hands up and down her face. “Just kind of worried about Karla,” she said quietly, playing with the loose thread on her pajama bottoms.
Looking away from the computer screen, Laura (Tori’s mother) turned to face her daughter and gave her full attention. “What’s the matter with Karla? Is she having issues with the baby?”
Tori shook her head, shrugging. “I’m not even sure Ma. I went over there after my flight with a box of her favorite pizza and Kristen opened the door, and made up an excuse as to why I couldn’t come in. She said Karla had some sort of "contagious sickness” and that I should come back next week. But Ma, I was with Karla when when she had strep throat and every other illness. I think Kris is being a little sketchy. She even shoved me away when I tried to go inside.“
Laura gave her daughter a puzzled look before sighing. "I never really trusted that woman…”
“Karla? Why? You know she’s more honest than Mary herself.”
Laura shook her head laughing lightly. “Not Karla, she’s a sweetheart. I’m talking about Kristen.”
Tori frowned, “Oh. Well, this is the first time I’m actually doubting her words. I don’t really know her, whenever I’m around she’s either working in her office or not talking. Karla says she doesn’t like a lot of people and she’s really closed off.”
Laura rolled her eyes, sliding her rolling chair back and forth on the carpeted floor as she thought. “I don’t know sweetheart. She just has rubbed me the wrong way for far too long. I don’t think she’s as good of a person as you think she may be.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about Ma. Karla wouldn’t be with her if she was a bad person. I’m just overreacting because I couldn’t see my best friend,” Tori defended.
Laura sighed to herself as she stood up. Walking towards her daughter, she planted a soft kiss on her forehead, pushing her curly blonde locks back. “I like how you always want to see the best in people baby girl, but I’ve been around far longer than yourself. I think I know a good person verses a bad person when I see it. Maybe Karla herself doesn’t even know. But I could be wrong, just get some sleep. I’m heading to bed.”
Tori felt her shoulders drop. “Okay. Fresh towels in the guest room bathroom,” she called over her shoulder.
“Thanks baby! Go to sleep now.”
Tori didn’t know how long she sat in the study room of her condo just thinking. But when she finally decided to head on up to bed, the sun was nearly coming up. “I guess this calls for a phone call to work faking sick…”
Entering her room, she flopped down on her bed staring up at the ceiling. Looking over at her nightstand where her phone sat, she picked it up deciding to do a bit of internet surfing before sleeping.
On her screen was two messages from Lauren. “Oh shit.”
Lauren - 7:24 PM: Hey, I don’t mean to be annoying and shit but just checking in to make sure you landed safely??
Lauren - 2:03 AM: I’m kinda worried. I gotta head to bed now but I bet you’re just busy or sleeping or something. Get back to me when you can.
Sitting up, she couldn’t help but smile at her concern but felt bad at the same time. She totally forgot to text her after she landed.
Tori - 5:59 AM: hey, i’m really sorry. i literally JUST saw your messages. i landed safely. just been stressed.
Tori went to put her phone down and head to sleep when it all of a sudden beeped. Frowning down at it, she raised an eyebrow when she realized it was Lauren.
Lauren - 6:01 AM: Oh no it’s okay. Just glad you’re safe and all. Penny for your thoughts?
Tori - 6:01 AM: wow, did you stay up awaiting my message? lol. but nah, i don’t wanna bug ya
Tori fumbled with her phone as she waited for a new reply. “Sleep is for losers anyways,” she mumbled to herself.
Lauren - 6:04 AM: Nooo, lmfao. I have kids, remember? It’s like 7 AM and I gotta take them to school. And you won’t, I promise.
Chewing on her bottom lip, she contemplated talking to Lauren about her concerns before typing away on her phone.
Tori - 6:05 AM: ooohhhh. damn i’m sorry that legit slipped my mind. sucks you gotta be up so early )-:
Tori - 6:05 AM: and i’m just worried about karla, you know, the one i made the demo for? yeah her
Tori found herself falling asleep when Lauren didn’t reply after a few minutes. She was nearly in sleep world when her phone buzzed beneath her finger tips.
Lauren - 6:13 AM: Me being up early? Look at you. But what are you worried about? Her not liking it?
***
Walking up the stairs, body beyond sore, Camila banged her fist on the locked door. “L-Lola. Please, I’m sorry,” she croaked out through the shut door. She’s been down in that basement for far too long and she was tired. She rather live under Lola’s rules then down there in darkness.
She felt tears prick her eyes when no one came. She was probably gone. Limping back down the stairs, she walked over to her corner and sat. “Please hurry up and save me Lolo…” she whispered as the first tear escaped.
She had bruises covering every inch of her body. Her stomach was in severe pain. She didn’t even know if the being within her was still alive. She hasn’t felt a single kick in days and she couldn’t help but feel worried but relieved all at once.
Minutes after she had come back down the stairs, the basement door swung open, Lola standing at the top. She flicked on the lights and Camila stood up as quickly as her body would allow her to. “Please Lola, I’m sorry,” she whispered as she came closer. “Don’t leave me down here anymore. I’m scared.”
Lola stared at her fiancée for a few moments before dropping the wooden stick in her hand, watching as it tumbled down the stairs. Hazel eyes locked with brown ones as she descended from the staircase. Camila stumbled back slightly when Lola unexpectedly wrapped her arms around her. “I hate to teach you lessons like that love,” She could feel her body tremble in fear but forced herself to hug her back, scared she may upset her and make her leave her down here again. “I love you.”
She stayed silent, hoping she could pass as not hearing it, but of course Lola wouldn’t allow that. Pulling away, she bent down to stare her in the eyes. “I said, I love you,” Looking down, she felt Lola’s hand grip her chin firmly. “You love me too, right?” Camila could feel a fresh set of tears coming as she nodded hesitantly. “Words baby, use your words.”
“Y-Yes… I love you too,” she whispered softly.
Lola smiled a creepy smile before bringing her lips down to Camila and engaging her into a rough kiss. She could feel the bile of disgust rising up her throat as she forced herself to kiss back. Lola soon pulled away, smiling creepily at Camila. “Good girl. Now, we’re gonna go make sure our baby boy is okay, alright?”
***
Camila sat and looked around the small examination room nervously. Lola had covered all of her bruises up with waterproof makeup. You could still see the slight obvious swelling on her lip and left eye, but it looked mostly like bloating.
The ultrasound technician walked in with a bright smile. “Hello Karla, Kristen. Its been awhile,” Holly greeted.
Holly was the first ultrasound technician to take a look at Camila when she had found out she was pregnant and had helped them several times before. Its been a few months since they’d last seen each other.
Lola smiled at Holly; extending her hand out to which Holly shook. “It has, hasn’t it?”
Smiling slightly herself, Camila nodded, not in the mood to speak. “So lets begin, yeah?”
Laying back on the examination bed near the machine, Camila raised her shirt up, exposing her protruding stomach. She hoped the makeup Lola put wouldn’t rub off when Holly started with the gel.
She winced when Holly pressed the gel covered wand firmly onto her stomach, swiftly moving it around.
Minutes later, Holly gave Camila a wipe to clean herself up and smiled at her. “Dr. Peterson should be in shortly,” she said before walking out.
Lola and Camila sat in silence as they waited for the OBGYN. Soon, the familiar blonde haired woman walked in with a bright smile. “Karla, Kristen! How is my favorite couple doing?” She laughed, taking a seat at the doctors chair.
After doing the usual friendly greeting, Dr. Peterson set her belongings down on the table before going over Camila’s chart silently for a moment before turning to the “couple.”
“Well, everything looks pretty decent to me. What does concern me although is the slightly slowed down heartbeat but that could just be due to early stages of the pregnancy,” or your crazy bitch of a “fiancée” trying to kill you by kicking your stomach over and over for an hour straight, she thought to herself. “Kristen, do you mind stepping outside with me? I want to speak to you about something,” Dr. Peterson requested.
Lola glanced at Camila before looking at Dr.
Peterson and nodding. Camila watched in silence and confusion as the two women walked out of the room.
Minutes passed and neither have returned. Camila glanced around nervously before her eyes landed on Dr. Peterson’s cell phone sitting on the counter. A risky thought crossed her mind as she glanced at the door.
She waited a few more minutes to make sure no one was coming before quickly getting up and dashing across the room to retrieve the cellular device. “Please don’t have a lock, please don’t have a lock, please don’t have a lock,” she whispered over and over again to herself as she turned it on. She paced around impatiently as the apple logo came onto the phone. Glancing back the door, her eyes widened when she saw the handle turning slightly.
Looking at the phone in her hand that was currently rebooting, she shoved it into her bra and made her way back to the examination table, sitting and acting as normal as she possible could. Praying that Dr. Peterson doesn’t notice her missing phone right away.
“Well, you ladies are free to go. Make a follow up appointment for a well check in four weeks at the front desk. Hope to see you soon,” she smiled, gathering her things all at once and walking out.
Lola looked at Camila with a raised eyebrow. “C'mon.”
Standing in place Camila tried to think of an excuse as quickly as possible. “I… I uh. I have to poop!” She blurted out.
Lola looked at her with slightly wide eyes before sighing. “You can do that at home.”
“I can’t hold it,” she insisted.
Lola rolled her eyes in annoyance, “Hurry up and ask someone for the bathroom.”
Nodding and shooting Lola a small nervous smile to seem as unsuspicious as possible, Camila hurried and waddled out of the exam room, spotting a near by bathroom and walking in. She quickly locked the door behind her.
Taking the phone out from her bra, she was surprised that Lola didn’t notice it considering the fact that she had absolutely no breasts and anything against her chest was pretty obvious but she thanked god she hadn’t cause she was kind of nervous to find out what Lola would have done if she did. Lola never allowed her to have a phone, being the main reason why she’s never been able to find help for herself. Lola tracked her every move. Almost like a stalker. She couldn’t tell her co-workers because Lola was pretty much always at work with her or watching from afar. Lola was everywhere. But this was her moment. Her one chance.
Turning the phone on, she slid her thumb across the screen and nearly cried tears of joy when she realized there was no lock. She begged her mind to remember the one persons number she hoped and prayed stayed the same all these years. Her thumbs shook nervously as she typed away.
***
“Wait, I gotta go grab my phone!” She called out before running up the stairs and into her room.
Walking over to her nightstand, she picked it up getting ready to chuck it into her purse before it vibrated several times. Her heart stopped at what she read. Someone had to be fucking with her.
At least that’s what she thought until she read the last message.
Unknown - 2:34 PM: dinah, i need your help. it’s camila
Unknown - 2:34 PM: please don’t reply to this number. its not my phone
Unknown - 2:35 PM: im in yakutat alaska. lola is literally keeping me hostage
Unknown - 2:36 PM: i cant explain much but im in danger and i need your help. please. is lauren ok? are my kids ok?
Unknown - 2:36 PM: fuck dont answer that. i have no time at all. but if you do see them, tell them i love them so much and i miss them more than anything in the world
Unknown - 2:37 PM: i told lola i had to take a shit but i gotta hurry. dont reply back. PLEASE! just send help. im in yakutat alaska living on 5285 maplewood road
Unknown - 2:37 PM: please… im begging you cheech. help me
***
a/n: oooooooo…. alright. welp, this chapter sucked ass but idk. tell me what you think.
what do you think is gonna happen next?
what do you think about tori’s mom’s suspicions?
how do you feel about what lucy said?
what do you expect going forth?
how do you think dinah will respond to those messages?
what do you think dr. peterson and lola had to talk about?
camila and her new son on the way?
what are your overall thoughts?
thanks so much for reading. dont forget to comment and vote, ily yall.
to my tumblr readers, add this story on my wattpad to comment, vote, ask direct questions, etc. @ wthbello also don’t forget to follow (:
ellianna,
xxxxxxxx
#UPDATE#series#x factor#non AU#AU#slash#camren#angst drama#romance fluff#submission#our broken white rose
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