February 10 - 16: Character Swap Challenge!

Though romance doesn't have to be your main genre, add a few sparks! That's why, for this event, we have a... Wheel of Challenges! There are small challenges and prompts that include some romantic elements, which you can add to your story. Click the link below to access the wheel and spin once to get your challenge!

Spin-the-Wheel!

Participant Badge

Awarded for participating in the Character Swap Challenge!


Winner #3 Badge and 200 points

Awarded for taking third place!


Winner #2 Badge and 300 points

Awarded for taking second place!


Winner #1 Badge and 400 points

Awarded for taking first place!


Badges designed by RavenAkuma

I breathe in and out carefully in the calming way Coach taught me as I stare at the pink LED lights in front of me. Target is very smart, but it seems to have forgotten that I am a boy with a wonderful girlfriend who needs an equally wonderful Valentine’s Day with me. I continue my staring contest with the pink LED lights, trying not to break. Spoiler alert: I lose. With a sigh, I reach out, grab the box of pink LED lights, and plunk it into the red Target basket.

“Jeez, you must be down bad,” a girl’s voice remarks wryly.

I am captain of the football team and a relatively unshakable guy. But this sudden voice makes my shoulders shoot up to my ears and my body stiffens visibly as I spin around, ready to use the Target basket as a weapon.

I am met with an incredibly unthreatening sight– a short girl with dirty blonde hair in a claw clip, a brow raised in amusement, and almond-shaped brown eyes that seem to ask me laughingly what the hell I think I’m doing.

I try to smile, but panic seems to highlight itself in my eyes because she winces a bit and waves at me awkwardly. “Hi. Sorry for scaring you. I’m one of the freshmen who interviewed you for the school newspaper.” She says it like it’s the only thing I could remember her from, and I guess she’s right.

My eyes widen in recognition and I nod. This is really awkward. Not just because I barely remember who she is, but because she is obviously way out of her depth here. “It’s fine! I was just lost in thought. How’s the newspaper going?”

“Oh, I quit. It’s fine, it wasn’t for me. Anyway, I am much more interested in you and your obvious, mildly endearing panic on how to make this Valentine’s Day good for your girlfriend,” she says nonchalantly, her eyes traveling between me and the contents of my basket like she’s watching her favorite TV show.

I blink at her astuteness and can’t help the laugh that bubbles up my throat. “That obvious, huh?” I ask, wincing as I rub the back of my neck.

She shrugs. “Yeah. But I’ve been paying attention to y’all, so maybe I can help.”

My eyes narrow and I look at her suspiciously, trying to deduce if she’s a creep. “Paying attention?”

She tilts her head and gives me a little smile tinged with sadness. “I sit on the other side of your lunch table. It’s kind of hard not to listen. Y’all have had a lot of drama lately. My friend Dakota has started sitting with me to listen in on it. They’ve almost butted in a couple of times, but I’ve managed to stop them. You’re welcome.” She says the last part with a grin and a little giggle, and I can’t help but grin back. Okay, this little girl is adorable. I’m adopting her.

“You’re right, we have had a lot of drama lately. But that’s hopefully going to stop if Alanna and I can have a good Valentine’s Day without Max messing it up. To be honest, though, I’m kind of worried it’ll be me messing it up this time.” I confess, fingers tapping the box nervously.

The girl grins, a prideful glint in her eyes. “I know! That’s why I came up to you when I saw you having trouble. I’m here to help,” she chirps.

My eyebrows flick up in surprise but I smile back. I’ll take any help I can get. Even if it’s from a freshman without any clue how to socialize. “Thanks, I can really use it.”

She takes a few steps toward me and points to my basket. “Great! Let’s get started. What’s in there?”

My smile turns strained. “Pink LED fairy lights.”

Her eyes narrow and I think one of them twitches. “That’s it?”

“That’s it,” I confirm meekly.

She presses her lips into a firm line and looks at me like she has lost all hope for humanity. That look has a devastating impact on my confidence in my ability to get this right, making my confidence wither and my nervous energy return. “Neo, that’s just sad,” she said bluntly, blatant pity in her voice.

I wilted. “I know.”

She breathed in deeply and gave me an encouraging look, brightening up again. I could see ideas beginning to flit through her mind. “It’s okay, we can fix it. Come on.”

I follow her through the maze of aisles, watching her dart in and out of different sections like it’s magic. She grabs a box of M&M’s, then hesitates, shooting me a look. “What’s our budget?” she asks, eyes wide and serious.

“Um, 50?” I sputter, unsure of whether that’s the right answer or not.

She purses her lips and her eyes narrow in thought before she nods. “We can make that work.”

I give her an incredulous look. “What do you mean, “we can make that work”, that’s a great-”

She’s plopping the box of M&M’s packets in my basket before I can finish defending my budget.



Over the course of the next hour, I feel increasingly dumber when it comes to women and what they want but also increasingly hopeful that maybe– just maybe– this’ll turn out okay.

The girl gives me a grin as she plops the final item in my basket. “Alanna’s gonna love this,” she says, her voice an excited squeal.

I laugh and ruffle her hair. “Yeah, I think she will. Thanks for the help…” Dammit, I never caught her name. I try to hide this by dabbing her up.

She smiles at me like she knows it and doesn’t really mind, grabbing my hand instead of letting go. She takes a purple pen out of her pocket and scribbles a phone number on my wrist. “Text me if you need any more help,” she says, grinning at me excitedly like we’re pulling off the biggest thing of the century. I hope that doesn’t imply anything unpleasant about me, but oh, well.

“Leslie! Get your ass over here!” A familiar-looking 15-year-old with a brown mullet roars at the girl in front of me.

The girl who has been helping me save my Valentine’s Day date for the past hour– Leslie– turns to the source of the commotion and raises a brow as she tries not to burst out laughing. “In a minute, Dakota.” She turns back to me and salutes me. “It was fun helping you, Neo. You got this!”

And then, she strolled away to her grinning friend.



It takes me a while to get the balcony ready, but with Leslie’s help (“I’m pretty sure the outlet would be inside, Neo”), I get it all ready. Alanna texts me that she’s on her way, and I have to do a minute of Coach's breathing exercises to calm myself down.

The doorbell sounds and I get off of the balcony and run down the stairs, running a hand through my hair as I swallow nervously and open the door.

The nervousness in me melts at the sight of my beautiful girl in her yoga pants and hoodie smiling sweetly and a bit nervously as she holds up her phone, displaying my text on the screen. “You wanted me to come over?”

I grin and nod, opening the door wider. “Come in.”

She breezes past me, and I subtly breathe in her sweet perfume as I close the door behind her. I slide my hand into hers and give her an encouraging smile as I pull her towards me. “Do you trust me?”

She nods, smiling as she looks up at me with her beautiful dark eyes.

I flick my eyebrows up mischievously and grin. “Then put this blindfold on.”
Alanna gives me an incredulous, slightly surprised look, but takes the blindfold from me and puts it on.

I take her by the hand and lead her up the stairs, snickering when she trips over her own legs and makes a strangled noise in the back of her throat before I catch her. I open the door to my bedroom and stop her just in front of the open sliding balcony door. “Take it off,” I say gently. She does, and gasps, her hand flying to her mouth as she drops the blindfold and stares at the balcony in awe. Pink LED lights are strung all over the railing, and a beautiful, very large pink blanket with a cute fringe is spread over the floor. There’s a table with all her favorite food on it (M&M’s being one of them, and in a mass pack, too), and underneath that table, there are several presents. She turns to me, tearing up, and her gaze drops to my hand… and what’s in it.

“Listen, baby…”

“Neo…” she whispers, choking up as tears well in her eyes.

“Ain’t no mountain high/ ain’t no valley low/ ain’t no river wide enough, baby…”

“Baby…” she says, sniffling as the tears start to fall down her face.

I brush one away, smiling as the song continues and I lead her out to the balcony.

“If you need me, call me / no matter where you are / no matter how far…”

She laughs despite the tears and begins to dance with me, giggling as I spin her around and look at her with a lovesick grin.

“Just call my name / I'll be there in a hurry / you don't have to worry / ‘Cause baby there / ain't no mountain high enough / ain't no valley low enough / ain't no river wide enough / To keep me from getting to you, babe…”

“Neo, stop,” she laughs, swatting at my hands as I try to spin her again. She looks me in the eyes and smiles. “This is beautiful,” she whispers, and I bring her hand to my cheek and press a kiss to her knuckles.

“I had help,” I murmur against them, and she laughs softly.

“From who?”

“A freshman who sits at our lunch table.”

Her eyebrows furrow in thought, and she gives me an astonished look. “A freshman sits at our lunch table??!”

I tip my head back and laugh, and she rolls her eyes before putting her head on my chest as we sway to the fun-loving, happy voices of Marvin Gaye and Tammi Terrell.

“I suppose you want to adopt this kid, now,” she murmurs, and I kiss the top of her head, grinning as I pull her close, warmth and happiness flooding my chest.

“You know me so well.”

A Night At Saturday Speed Dates

Lilian yawned, looking out the window of the fancy restaurant. What had her friend said? Something about "Go out there and date!" and "Speed dating is a perfectly acceptable way to find the love of your life!" Sure, what did they know. She shook her head as she watched the host of the speed dating event walk into the room. Their hair was a light pink color and they had tan skin. They were also wearing a horrendous neon pink suit with a rose in the pocket.

"Hi guys!" The host said, filled with almost too much enthusiasm. "Welcome to Saturday Speed Dates! I'm glad you all joined us tonight! In front of you all are some menus, in case you'd like to order some food to have before we kick off the night."

A few people around her picked up the menus and flagged down some waiters. She didn't. She wasn't hungry. Right now, she'd rather be having a fun night in with her friends, but they already had paid the fee for her being here, and she didn't want to waste any money.

She watched as a woman walked into the room and whispered something to the host. They nodded.

"Alright! Lets get this night started off on the right foot. The way this will work is as follows! You'll have 15 minutes with each person, so get to know them! Some of my associates will be passing out icebreaker card boxes." A few men and women in outlandish purple-pink suits set a small box in front of each attendee. "We'll be pairing you all up shortly, so sit tight!" The host left the room, it almost seemed as if they were in a hurry, their steps clumsy and unfocused.

There was something off about that host. Now that she thought about it, their shoulders were far too wide for a human, so too were their arms. The way they walked almost seemed as if they were used to some other kind of movement. She shook her head, trying to figure out who-- or what this person actually was.

A few minutes passed, and yet the host hadn't returned yet. A few people around started to grow upset. She couldn't help but overhear a few of them grumbling or gossiping.

"Where is this godforsaken host..." One of them said.

"I paid 15 dollars to go to this stupid event, and the host isn't even here?" Another said, grabbing their things and getting ready to leave the restaurant.

Lilian did have to admit that the amount of time the host had been gone was definitely unusual. She looked around for the associates, but them too were not there. She wasn't really invested in the event anyway, so she decided to get up and try to find the host.

She excused herself from the table and got up to sleuth around. She looked down the hallway that the host went down, then back at the event table. Nobody was watching her. Good. She quickly booked it down the hallway, looking to see where they had went. The only door in the entire hallway was at the very end, and it was slightly ajar. She slowed down when she neared the door, and took a peek inside.

‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧

She had to rub her eyes to believe it. The room was much larger than the restaurant looked on the outside, it almost seemed like some sort of domain. There was clear skies, and some sort of garden, with lush rose bushes with a brick path down the middle leading to a gazebo, and fountains to both of its sides. The gazebo had these beautiful pink and white fairy lights that seemed to almost be... floating? She opened the door a little more and went inside, closing the door behind her.

Once fully inside, she hid behind a rose bush in a stone planter. And there they were. The host... but with wings? She had to do a double take to confirm that. Wings. She saw some of the attendants from earlier also there, with wings! They were all huddled near a table, all mulling over something.

She snuck behind bush after bush to get a peek at what they were all looking at. It was some sort of circle with pictures of all the people who were at the speed dating event. She couldn't help but eavesdrop on their conversation.

"Okay, so hear me out." One of the attendants grabbed some glowing red string. "What if, we paired Peter and Jessie? They both like the same artists, and their love languages are pretty similar!"

A different attendant snatched the string out of their hands. "No, you're wrong. Peter should go with Erica. The two of them are a better pair! See how they both like dogs, they both have younger siblings, they even go to the same gardening club! Get it right, Amos!"

The attendant presumably called Amos huffed and looked at the host. "Cupid! Tell Angela she's wrong! It's obviously Peter and Jessie!"

"No, it's Peter and Erica!" The two attendants started to get in a yelling match before the host stood up. Cupid... was real? Lilian couldn't believe her eyes. Cupid, the baby that wore diapers and flew with a bow and arrow? She shook her head and continued listening in.

"Quiet down, you two." Cupid said. "Just calm down and reason with each other. Yes, both of the two would be good for Peter. However, did you even look at their histories? Erica broke up with Peter a week ago. So yes, Jessie is the better choice here. Good job Amos."

Amos did a fist pump and stuck out their tongue at Angela, causing Angela to start chasing them around the garden. Cupid just shook his head. Just then, he looked over towards where Lilian was hiding. "Ah, yes. Lilian. Come here, and we can have a chat over some tea."

Lilian's eyes opened wide in shock that he had noticed her, but she came out from behind the bush anyway. "So, what, you're the Cupid? Baby angel with a little bow and arrow? You're... how do I say this nicely...."

Cupid chuckled. "A grown man? Yes, it confuses many a mortal. I can't wrap my head around it, I, the one who makes people fall in love, a baby! You'll have to put in a good word for me, Lilian."

She rolled her eyes. "What's the point of this 'Speed Dating Saturday' anyway? Can't you make people fall in love without having them pay money?"

"I mean, I could... but in this economy? Plus, it's much easier having true loves meet each other here, because there's just so many options to choose from." Cupid picked up a tea pot as some teacups materialized out of what seemed to be nothing, and poured some tea into them. "I have looked into your love life, and your life as a whole. What an interesting human. I don't think I've seen anyone of your caliber in the last few decades. You really are something."

Lilian didn't know if he meant it as a compliment or an insult, so she decided to just take it as the former. "Thanks...?" She picked up her teacup and took a sip. Rose and hibiscus.

Cupid continued. "It's so odd, you cherish this idea of romance and true love, but you push away all my efforts! First Libby, then Pandora, it's so hard to get someone to stick around for more than four years with you! Oh well, I'll just have to try harder."

Lilian rolled her eyes. "Maybe you just aren't good at your job."

He stopped and stared at her. "Repeat that for me?"

"Maybe you aren't good at your job. You shouldn't have to have this speed dating event if you're so good at it."

He tsked and shook his head. "Oh Lilian, if it only were that simple. That could work, maybe a millennia ago. But no, you mortals had to keep getting more complex! Inventing all these cheap ways to 'fall in love'. What are those applications anyway? Cinder? Binge? I forget. Stupid mobile phone applications, trying to come for my job. No matter. You all are so love hungry that you lie to each other anyway to become loved. I digress. You must know I am trying my hardest."

She took another sip of her tea. "I never said you weren't."

"I am aware. Well, it has been some time since I left the room. I assume there is some mild unrest in there?" Cupid stood up and snapped, his wings folding up and hiding underneath the suit jacket he put on.

"Mild might be a little bit of an understatement. It felt like half the room wanted to get up and leave after a few minutes." Lilian said, standing up as well.

"Well, this was a wonderful chat. I do hope you find someone you like here, if not some I like for you here."

She chuckled a little. "Maybe, if everyone hasn't left already. You definitely need to brush up on your hosting skills." She said as the two of them walked towards the door back into the restaurant.

"Yes, yes. I'll also have to pick up on all these new... mobile acronyms. Alright, are you ready to find someone to love?"

Lilian shrugged. "I only came here not to waste my friends money."

And the two of them stepped out the door.

(also included a little cover image for this one! It's a little big but oh well...)


__________________________________________________
Thus like the sad presaging Raven that tolls
The sick man's passport in her hollow beak,
And in the shadow of the silent night
Doth shake contagion from her sable wings.
-Christopher Marlowe
__________________________________________________
Amorphous soot bloomed from the steam engine of a large mechanical monster. It was painted to be appealing to the eye, yet the pollutants that blasted themselves into the air created a thin coat of black particles throughout the colors of purple and velvet that lined the train. The moon was hidden by the clouds. Absent travelers sprawled across the carriage seats in a deep sleep, prepared to finally arrive at their destination of Toffbury, a neighboring town of Canadia. Nobody exactly chose to visit Toffbury. It was the type of city one only visited if they had to. It would likely be due to a death in the family or due to charity work.

Lady Alberta Parapluie sits like a proud star atop a tree. A flower planted into her dark brown hair shines with radiance. She wears a comfortable dress with a flower pattern lined throughout paired with a corset. Her gown is just short enough that she might be able to comfortably get around. Her positioning is awkward. Her posture was stiff, trying hard not to pay attention to the sooty piece of chewing tobacco a man across from her had spat onto the ground. The lower class was something she was not accustomed to. Her maid, Nova, sat next to her. She was gently adjusting the white flower corset in her hair.

Nova spoke daintily, just quiet enough to not wake the other passengers. “We should be there by morning, milady. It seems the train is making one final stop.”

Alberta sighed “It seems I’ve run out of books to read. Could this ride get any longer? Are you sure there isn’t anything buried at the bottom of my bag?”

“This would be the third time I’d be checking, so I can comfortably say yes. Why don’t you take a nap? Litigations with Princess Derington may take a long time.”

“Just please stay awake while I sleep. I don’t want anything being stolen.” Alberta whispered loudly into Nova’s ear.

The sun peeked through the clouds in the morning when they arrived after a brief nap. They’d slept leaning on each other through the rest of the night, and both women had a mad crick in their necks. Lady Alberta was sent by Prince Toronto for trade route litigation with Wilhelmina Derington. The two of them got a peek at the town as they headed towards the royalties quarters. A flurry of Ravens flew overhead followed by a plethora of coughs from the sickly citizens of Toffbury. Alberta’s heels sunk into the mud as they walked through the dirt road that slowly turned into a brick road leading up to the royal castle. Upon arrival, they met Wilhelmina, who happily jaunted them to a meeting room. Her threads were a stunning baby blue, contrasting her auburn hair.

“Your hair looks stunning, Lady Alberta! Who did it? Is it this young lady you’ve brought along with you here? My Father makes me sit in front of the mirror for hours styling my hair. He doesn’t even [i[offer[/i] me a maid!”

Alberta seemed dazed by Princess Derington’s flurry of words. “Well…Nova here is more than just a maid. She is a good friend. Maybe King Derington is trying to find you someone who would match your personality.”

They got into business. It was a long, boring conversation only extended by Wilhelmina’s occasional wandering rambling. When it was over, they decided Alberta would stay the next few nights to allow for the train to return. As Alberta turned to the door, she saw a crumpled piece of paper lying near the entrance. Unbeknownst to the princess, she read it in her head.

“My Wilhelmina,
Whom is too well tangled in my soul.
I traveled through the town tonight with a tremble.
Doth know my heart searches for you even in the dark.”

Alberta couldn’t help but snicker. A love letter? She’d received plenty, but none as gothic as this one. Wilhelmina snuck up behind her and snatched it from her hand. She crumpled it up once again and threw it into her open closet, sliding it shut.

“My mistake, princess.” Alberta pleaded, “it was on the floor, so I was curious. Can I ask who this mysterious person is after your heart? It could be our little secret.”

“It wasn’t mine! I’m not sure how that got there. Do you want to head downstairs for dinner? My Father is waiting for us.”

Upon arrival at the dinner table, Alberta became frustrated when Nova wasn’t allowed to sit despite being a guest. She heard the king mutter “once a servant, always a servant. I don’t see her sitting at my table.”

While Nova gently accepted the discrimination, Alberta remained affected when looking across the shining table at King Derington. Three of them sat amongst a long dinner table with silverware and plates inhabiting every empty space. Lady Alberta spotted where all the money was going. Sterling silverware and luxury dinner plates sat in front of her, topped with smoking bread and steamed lobster. The smell invaded Alberta’s nostrils and made her shrivel. It was overwhelming as the king’s blasphemous booming voice.

“We hardly have visitors this time of the year, Lady Alberta. Sickness tends to spread like wildfire and Wilhelmina and I try to stay inside so as not to contract anything. It’s like the air is toxic.” He commented with a laugh.

She ignored his careless comment, “sir, have you actually looked outside this time of year? Talked to any of your citizens? My own Prince Toronto is heavily involved in the lives of our townspeople.”

“Think about this Lady Alberta. My daughter has plenty of suitors. If this Prince Toronto would have her, we could strengthen our relations! We could become like a super-kingdom!” King Derington boasted.

“Dad.” Wilhelmina hissed, trying to get him to move to another topic.

King Derington lifted a gigantic handbag full of gifts. It came with silvers, clothing, food, books, and more. It was a gift from one of the upper-class men from Toffbury. Lady Alberta nearly scoffed at the presentation.

“Look at this! Marriage suits you, especially if it means we could have more of these coming through our doors. Just think about it, honey. I’m sure Lady Alberta knows plenty of upstanding gentlemen!”

All Alberta could do was roll her eyes.

__________________________________________________

Nova and Alberta were given a spare guest bedroom Despite the castle’s extravagant size, things were placed in an unorganized fashion. There were far more living rooms than there were bedrooms. Oftentimes Nova would step into a bedroom only to find it was actually a mini-kitchen. After a long day of discussion, Alberta laid to rest, while Nova stayed up after hours chatting with the rest of the maid-staff. She walked through the maze of cerulean hallways towards her room.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

It was an everlasting tapping noise that seemed to be coming from outside. She peered through the nearest window to see a faint black figure in the night. In the back of her mind, the idea of a couple of protestors defacing the castle wouldn’t be very surprising. Nova decided to get a closer look, she snuck out a side-door to get a closer look, staying close to the unkempt bushes to get a closer look.

As Nova’s eyes adjusted, she saw a young man throwing rocks at a window. It seemed he was dressed in a burlap sack. Despite this, he looked well-groomed and recently showered. He had freckles and frilly ginger hair.

Before Nova could say anything, she watched the window open. Wilhelmina’s head came through. She heard a faint whisper.

Wilhelmina shushed him through laughter, “I’m coming down, Dorian! Just…stay there!”

She closed the windows and put down the blinds. This Dorian waited by the window. Nova stayed in the bushes out of curiosity. She began to feel a rush of adrenaline. Maybe this is what Lady Alberta feels when she acts as a detective. She watched Wilhelmina run through the yard in heels with her dress pulled up by her knees. They magnetically embraced each other and kissed. Nova heard through the conversation “I got your letter…”

This was their mystery poet.

__________________________________________________

Alberta and Wilhelmina walked through the city of Toffbury. They did everything they could to push their bodies through the thin cloud of dust that made itself known throughout the city. Its citizens were long neglected and barely on life-support. Wilhelmina seemed concerned as they arrived at a small coffee shop that her family would frequent. The inside of the shop was cozy, unlike the outside, which was constantly unsure if it should be warm or cold, tolerant or unforgiving.

Lady Alberta was straight to business, with a hint of detective-work. “I hate to pry, Princess. Why hasn’t your father looked into bettering the lives of his people? He’d certainly be looked upon more favorably if he’s worried about his image…”

Wilhelmina seemed surprised by the question. She could tell it seemed genuine where it was coming from, and her days had been plagued by many boring meetings followed by stacks of paperwork.

“If I were to be honest…It’s because my father is a moron.”

Alberta guffawed at Wilhelmina’s honesty.

“We come from a long line of families that targeted the poor to make ourselves richer. Recently my eyes have been opened to the misdeeds of the Derington family. Everytime I try to talk to him, he just belittles me. Going back to marriage or-”

Alberta interjected with a sly smile, “It’s because of Dorian, right?”

Wilhelmina’s face immediately flushed. She looked around at the staff, then down to her cup of coffee, then up to Alberta again, but not into her eyes.

She muttered, “h-how do you know about Dorian?”

“Nova seems to have caught you when you met up one night. Don’t worry. I won’t tell anybody. He’s an interesting poet. Very dark style.”

“Ha…You weren’t supposed to see that in the first place!”

“It’s all too easy for a detective like myself. Sometimes I go by the name “Detective Alberta Parapluie” back at Canadia. I’ve solved the case, but something still seems wrong…”

Wilhelmina snickered, “what seems wrong, O’ detective?”

“I’ve been thinking up a plan. It all started today when I took you out. We’re going to find a way to really make you live up to your rightful name as a princess.”

__________________________________________________

Lady Alberta was holding Princess Wilhelmina’s hands together, preparing her for the stressful night ahead of her. There was a ball held at the Derington residence that included many extravagant figures of royalty. At the moment, Alberta stood over Wilhelmina, reassuring her that she was ready.

“You can do this. I will have your back. Just remember, this is for your people. Dorian and his family are just a small majority of your people. Let's see what we can do.” Alberta encouraged.

They walked into the ballroom floor. It was filled with ice sculptures, chocolate fountains, and other symbols of extravagance. There were small tables set throughout the open floor with a blue shade of table-mat along with pleasant-smelling candles. Nova had seemingly warmed up to the rest of the castle residents, including King Derington, who sat chatting with some other friends of high authority.

Alberta acted normally. She strolled around the ballroom, greeting various faces she vaguely recognized. She saw Wilhelmina at times, anxiously awaiting her next move. As Alberta walked past the king’s table, he questioned her.

“Lady Alberta, I was told Prince Toronto would be here. Do you have any idea why he hasn’t arrived yet? His servants relayed a message that he was coming tonight.”

Almost on cue, Lady Alberta turned her head towards the entry gate to see it open to see Prince Toronto’s face. He gave Lady Alberta a smile and a nod.

Behind him stood a small army of the poor-folk. All dressed in their best hand-me-downs. Toronto walked them into the party, introducing them to the upper class, many of which smiled and laughed due to the presence of the charming Toronto.

King Derington stood from his chair in a flurry of confusion. Lost for words.

Alberta made a sullen comment, “what seems to be the problem, king?”

“Well…Usually these people aren’t allowed here. There’s a chance one of them is plotting our demise! We don’t have enough guards to check all of them for weapons.”

“I’d hold your guards. These fine citizens seem pleasant. Besides, making statements like that would imply you did something to them to cause them to get so hostile.” Lady Alberta explained.

From afar, King Derington saw Wilhelmina lock arms with Dorian. He handed her another poem that he’d scribbled on a piece of junk paper. They saw a wordless display of affections followed by Wilhelmina’s reading of the poem. She smiled and held it close to her chest. He held her back as she took a deep breath and began to approach the king.

“Father!” She said, much louder than she wanted to. “This is my boyfriend, Dorian. I’m asking that you be kind to him, because he’s the man I want to marry.”

Dorian held out his hand to King Derington, “a real king. I’m charmed, sir.”

King Derington begrudgingly shook Dorian’s hand. He turned his gaze to Wilhelmina, who stood with a faint look of fear on her face.

“You’ve been afraid to tell me about Dorian all this time…” He reflected.

“He makes me happy, Father! Don’t you want me to be happy? I know you keep asking me to marry off to some rich man in-”

“It’s okay, honey. You may stay with Dorian.” The king proclaimed.

Wilhelmina continued, “...and I need you to start helping out the poor around us. Are you going to keep ignoring the chaos in the city?”

“Well…I suppose we can begin to hand out extra rations to those in need…”

Alberta butted in. “Or you could send a mage to help with the rampant disease!”

“Oh! I suppose I haven’t thought of that!”

King Derington gave a hearty smile. “It seems I have a long way to go as a king!”

As the party began to die down, dance numbers were performed, food was delivered, and friendships were secured. Dorian and Wilhelmina knocked on the door of Alberta’s guest room, where she and Nova packed up for the ride home.

“Lady Alberta!” Wilhelmina called out. “Don’t forget us. You’ve been such a big help for all of us. Dorian, my Father, and most of all, for me! It seems all we needed was a nudge in the right direction.”

Lady Alberta smiled. “Yeah. Detectives are not one-trick ponies. I was happy to be of service.”

Nova handed Alberta her things, “We must get you a license if you’re going to start calling yourself a detective outside of Canadia…”

Stardust in the Rain
Using @goodolnoah's character, Sky Sako!

The rain hadn't stopped for hours. It was steady, tapping rhythmically against the windows of Sky Sako's apartment as she sat at her desk. Her fingers lingered over her guitar, but she couldn't bring herself to play. The song ideas she'd been toying with for weeks seemed distant.

Stardust, she thought, The persona. The star.

Her gaze drifted to the reflection in the glass. Bright, almost glowing blonde hair, orange eyes that caught the light in the most mesmerizing ways. But that wasn't her. Not really. That was Stardust. The one who stood on stage, the one who sang with passion. But she longed for something more, always. She couldn't write anymore music until she found a muse something worth writing about. At this point, she felt stuck in an endless loop of writing, erasing, and then starting all over again. She needed to write something new, and the words weren't cooperating with her.

What am I doing here? she asked herself, though she knew the answer all too well. She'd been singing since she could remember. She'd always loved music, always found something in it that made her feel seen, even if it was only for a moment. But it wasn't just the music that drew her in-- it was the escape. The people who came to her shows, the thousands of people who shouted her name, who adored Stardust.

But no one ever saw Sky.

When she wasn't performing, Sky lived in two worlds-- one where she was the shy, introverted girl with a tendency to disappear in a crowd, and the other where she was a superhero. A real one. A metahuman, someone who could bend light to her will. She had tried to separate the two parts of herself, but it was impossible.

A buzz from her phone interrupted her train of thought, and she reluctantly gazed at the screen. A message from Nikola.

Come down to the pier. I've got something to show you.

Nikola.

Her chest leaped at the thought of him. He wasn't like most of the men, or even women, that Sky had previously encountered. When they first met, it had been at one of Sky's concerts, but Nikola had stood far from the crowd-- eyes always focused on her. She knew, deep down, that Nikola was looking for Sky all along-- never mind the superstar or superhero part of her event-filled life. He had a softness to him that disarmed her in ways she hadn't expected. His understanding of her, the person behind Stardust, was something Sky had never experienced before.

I don't even know what I'm doing with him, she thought as she locked her phone and grabbed her jacket. She knew Nikola wasn't just someone who made her feel seen. He was someone who saw the parts of her that she never allowed anyone else to see.

The rain greeted her the moment she stepped outside. The cold droplets clung to her skin, making shiver. In Hawaii, it was normally sunny, but Sky couldn't help but smile at the dramatic shift in weather. She pulled her jacket tighter as she made her way through the winding streets towards the pier. The world around her was alive, but somehow, the rain soothed her. It washed away the thoughts, the overthinking.

The pier wasn't far from her apartment, but with the storm pelting her from both sides, it felt like a long walk. The streets, usually vibrant with the sounds of traffic and pedestrians, were empty tonight-- it seemed like everyone had sought out shelter. The rhythm of her footsteps on the wet pavement felt oddly comforting. The air felt like a slap against her skin, waking her up slightly.

As she approached the pier, she spotted Nikola standing by the water, his back to her. He was holding his phone in his hand, gaze distant as he stared out into the horizon. Sky hesitated before approaching him, smirking at his dark hair and strong arms as she moved next to him. She never got to look at him this closely. Yes, she saw him at her shows, and was always.. intrigued, but, never had it in her to actually approach him.

"Hey," Sky said softly, slightly dulled by the wind and rain.

He looked at her, his face lighting up with a smile. God, she thought, he's too good for me.

"Sky," Nikola said, "You made it. Sorry for calling you out here in the rain."

"Wouldn't miss it for the world. Even though... what exactly are you showing me, again? Why did you call me here? I have a show soon." Sky asked, wiping dew from her upper lip.

Nikola didn't seem to mind the rain, standing with his clothes soaked through. He stepped toward her with bright eyes and handed her a small, folded piece of paper. Sky unfolded it, her fingers trembling slightly, though she couldn't quite place why. The note was simple. At first, she thought it was one of his funny joke-notes, but it was a drawing-- detailed, looked like it had been created by using charcoal pencils or pastels. Rain hit the paper in droplets smearing some of the lines, and as her vision focused, she made out what it was.

Her.

It was artwork inspired by her, Sky, not Stardust. Not the glamorized version of herself with the bright lights and sparkling costumes. This was a drawing of sky in her purest form. She was sitting in a small park, alone under streetlamp in the rain. Her hair was messy, her clothes a little too loose, and her face wore a quiet, contemplative expression.

How did he...

"Where did you find this?" she asked, a hint of surprise in her voice.

"I didn't. I drew it," Nikola said, turning a bright shade of red.

Sky blinked. "You--"

"I've been watching you for a while," Nikola admitted, but stopped himself quickly, "Not like... that. Not in a creepy way. I wanted to catch you. Just you, Sky. The real you."

For a long moment, Sky didn’t speak. She just stared at the drawing.

"You don't have to be afraid to be yourself with me," Nikola added, nodding, "I'm not interested in Stardust. I don't need the fame or the powers. I just want you. The person you are when no one's watching."

Sky couldn't help but blush. She wasn't sure if it was fear or relief--or maybe a mix of both. Nikola? He wasn’t scared. He didn't seem to care that she was more than just a pop star or a metahuman. He cared about her. Sky looked back at the drawing, and she smiled lightly before looking back up at him, "You even got my eyes right.'"

"I'm glad I didn't disappoint."

A shaky breath escaped her lips as she looked up at him, "Are you sure?,” she whispered, unsure if she was speaking to him or to herself. "I'm always so busy being what everyone else expects me to be."

Nikola smiled softly, reaching out to touch her arm. Normally, Sky would pull away. But something told her to let it happen. Maybe this is just what she needed for inspiration. Maybe Nikola was just what she longed for-- someone to inspire her, support her, and care for her regardless of her status.

"You don't have to figure it all out right now. I know it can be a lot. But all I ask is that you think about it,” he said, as if he had all the time in the world, "You deserve someone who knows what they're getting themselves into. You're a wonder worth exploring, Sky."

Sky just nodded, moving to place her hand over his. Without warning, he grabbed her hand and spun her in place, pulling her into an impromptu dance right there in the rain. She laughed, startled, but didn't pull away. The streetlights blurred through the storm, the world melting into them as Nikola twirled her again. The rain soaked them through, droplets catching in her lashes, running down her cheeks.

She couldn't stop thinking about what life would've been like if she wasn't famous, if she wasn't depended on as much as she was. In this moment, she felt normal, a product of nature, a woman that's capable of being loved and more. For the first time in a long time, Sky felt weightless. Just a girl dancing in the rain with someone who saw her for who she was. She closed her eyes, let herself fall into the rhythm, into the feeling. The rain was cold, but Nikola's hands were warm. Her laughter mixed with his, their footsteps splashing through puddles as they moved together.

"What if you get bored of me?" Sky blurted, watching as Nikola brought her closer with each step they took.

"I could never," he said, chuckling. He spun her again, this time dipping her. She got a good look at the sky, how the grey clouds swallowed their world whole. She knew she loved the rain, but now... this was even more intense. She would never forget this moment. The world faded--the expectations, the stage, the flashing lights of her career. It was just her, just Nikola.

And as Nikola pulled her close, tucking a strand of wet hair behind her ear, Sky realized she didn’t need the stage to feel alive. Maybe, just maybe, she just needed this.

And for now, that was enough.

Lyssantha bit her lip, brow furrowed in frustration. Squinting an eye, she looked past her canvas to the overflowing planter sitting on the garden pavers just beyond her easel. Her lithe fingers lightly brushed her charcoal pencil across her canvas in fluid motions, trying to capture the floral masterpiece in front of her. The focal point of the whole display was a flourishing fig tree, and she was currently employed in trying to capture its broad leaves.

Tongue between her teeth, she exhaled sharply as her pencil slipped, drawing a line right across her meticulous sketch. Cursing her clumsiness, she used the heel of her hand to wipe away the mistake, darkening her palm with charcoal dust. Normally, she didn’t mind getting her hands a little dirty (it was hard to avoid when painting, after all) but she didn’t want to ruin the sketch by getting smudgy handprints over it. She reached to her left, where a small stool held a tray carrying all her supplies. Feeling by touch, she searched for the rag she kept to clean her hands—when her fingers touched something smooth, rich, and unexpected.

Lyssa glanced down the length of her arm to see what her fingers had grasped. To her surprise, a folded piece of paper sat on top of the rag she had originally been trying to reach. She picked it up, wincing slightly at the dark fingerprints she made.

There was no obvious marker as to who it had come from— the paper, while nice and heavy, lacked any identifying information that she would have expected had it been an official sort of communication. She unfolded it and began to read the message on it, written in choppy but legible script.

Lyssantha: sometimes I think your smile is the best thing in this world, and then I see you focused on a painting. The way your tongue pokes out makes me so happy.

It wasn’t signed; she even turned the page over to see if they had somehow left a kind of clue. The penmanship wasn’t one she recognized, either.

There was something dually touching and off putting about the note; on the one hand, it was quite flattering. The way it was written seemed so genuine and sweet, and Lyssa couldn’t help but bite back a grin when she read it. On the other hand, it meant that someone was watching her. As a princess, she had learned to sustain the public eye, but there was a reason she retreated to the garden—it was the one place she could, to some degree, escape the responsibility that came with her birthright. The idea that someone watched her even here was a touch unsettling.

Still, the note seemed innocent enough. She looked around the garden, trying to see if the person who had left it there was still, by some possibility, in the vicinity. They didn’t appear to be— the only individuals as far as she could see were some gardeners, busy watering beds further down the pathway.

She smiled to herself, reading it over once more before tucking it into her belt. Ah, well. So she had a secret admirer. It was hardly something to be worried about. She almost hoped they would leave another note.


It wasn’t one day before Lyssa’s unspoken wish came true. She had moved on to the underpainting over her sketch. She had reached down for some more green paint, when her hands met a familiar papery texture. She smiled, her heart speeding with anticipation.
Lyssa— you are incredible. You are an inspiration, as vibrant and as beautiful as your paintings. The fig tree looks wonderful, by the way.

Her eyes flicked to the shadows of what would become the focal point of her newest painting. It was hardly beautiful now, all made up of muddy greens and browns, the underpainting of what would add to her ever growing series of landscapes. Still, it showed the mysterious individual admired her process, which somehow felt more authentic. It was easy to call a finished painting wonderful, in its aesthetic perfection, but the rawness of first drafts and sketches felt more personal, more intimate.

She, once again, searched her surroundings. She only spotted a lone gardener, hat obscuring his face. She figured it couldn’t hurt to ask if he had seen anyone.

“Excuse me,” she called out. He whipped around, like he’d been expecting her to call on him.

“Yes, Your Highness?” He stood upright and at attention.

“Did you see anyone nearby? Besides you, I mean.”

“I can’t say that I have,” he replied. He gave her a lopsided sort of smile, which was oddly endearing. She made a mental note to get to know the gardeners better; she spent so much time here after all.

“Thank you anyways,” she said, albeit a bit disappointed. The urge to know who was her admirer was getting stronger. Whoever it was, she felt like they were already connected. She only wished she knew the person as well as they seemed to know her.

As she placed this note in the same place as the last one, she made up her mind. She had to figure out who was leaving these.


It was the next day that Lyssa knew what to expect. Her admirer always dropped off the note sometime in the afternoon, and when the sun’s glare started proving troublesome to her eyes, she kept her senses keen, listening for any telltale sign of someone approaching and dropping a note.

Not five minutes after she started paying attention, she heard a slight crackle from behind her. Normally, she would have attributed it to a random bird taking flight from a bush, but she chose to think it was her secret admirer instead. Sure enough, though quiet, she could hear soft footsteps approaching her.

As soon as her neck prickled with the sense that there was someone by her, she took a breath and made her move.

Lyssa whirled, reaching out and catching the stranger by the wrist. They obviously weren’t expecting it, and stumbled into her. It took her a moment to get her bearings, managing to hold onto the interloper’s forearm in the commotion.

In the confusion, Lyssa could only take in the details of the individual one by one. He wore ordinary clothes, his loose trousers stained with dirt at the knees. His skin was tan and freckled, his fingers short and dusty. He smelled like the outdoors, earthy and warm. His hair was a fluffy brown cloud around his pointed face. For a moment, Lyssa considered reaching out with a finger and brushing the lock that fell in front of his face behind his ear, before shaking her head slightly, knocking sense back into it.

“Who are you?” Lyssa asked, finally meeting his gaze. He looked like a child who’d gotten caught up past his bedtime, eyes darting this way and that, looking for a quick escape. As she continued studying him, she realized she knew him. “Hang on. You’re the gardener I spoke to yesterday.”

He gave a sheepish grin. “Guilty. I’m Odell. Dell. I—um. I work here. In the gardens. Evidently.” He blinked, and Lyssa was struck by how wonderful his eyes were, the color of freshly watered soil and bread crusts, with a warm sheen that glinted in the afternoon sun. “And I am so sorry, Your Highness.”

“What for?” As she spoke, Lyssa realized her hand was still wrapped around his wrist. She dropped it hastily, her hand defaulting to smoothing the skirt of the robes she was wearing today.

“I— well. My inappropriate conduct. It was foolish. I am so sorry if I made you feel—”

“Did you leave these notes?” Lyssa withdrew them from where she kept them, inside a pocket on her belt.

Dell reddened. “I might’ve.” He gulped. “Alright, yes. I’m… sorry.”

Lyssa bit her tongue, grinning. “So you lied to me yesterday?

“Well… not technically. You asked if— it doesn’t matter.” He shut himself up. “Again, I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Lyssa said. “I liked your notes a lot.”

Dell brightened. “You did?” He cleared his throat. “Well. Um. I meant them! Every word. I just think you’re… you’re just…. Oh!” His eyes fell on something in his hand.

“I almost forgot. These are for you,” Dell said, thrusting a small yet intricate bouquet in Lyssa’s arms. “I thought— well. They’re purple bellflowers with some lavender. They match your hair. Which is so pretty, by the way. I— I’m rambling, I’m so sorry. ” He flushed even more.

Lyssa smiled, inhaling the fresh floral scent. “They’re perfect.”

“Oh. Oh? You think so?” Dell bit his lip, hiding a smile. “I’m glad. They’re some of my favorites.”

“Well, they’re beautiful. I’ll have to make them the subject of my next painting. Or perhaps…” She looked him up and down. “I have been meaning to practice my portraits.”

Dell looked confused for a moment, fidgeting with his hands, unoccupied now that he had given his bouquet away.

“I could paint you, Dell,” she explained. “If you’d be willing.”

A wide grin broke across his face. “Gosh,” Dell said. Lyssa laughed at the infatuation in his eyes. “It’d be an honor.”

“Same time, tomorrow?” Lyssa asked.

“I’ll be there,” Dell said. “I… wow. Goodbye, Your Highness.” He gave her an awkward, stumbling bow as he retreated.

“Lyssa is fine,” she called after him, laughing.

“Lyssa then! Goodbye, Lyssa.”

She smiled softly, inhaling the flowers’ scent. “Goodbye, Dell. I’ll see you.”

Radios never lasted long in L’stela, despite its sharp edges and flashy billboards. Whatever music haunts the city tends to be nothing more than spare parts under bloody spandex dawning bodies at the end of the day. If they were free from that gory death, then talk shows would morph into negotiations and audio dramas without the soft blanket of fiction. Such is the brewing chaos underlying the melody of car horns and street life that thrums through every crack in the concrete. However, today the soft hum of love-lorn classics embraced the corners of the only coffee shop this block still had standing.

Shadows of passersby’s play on empty tables and stretch out on the hardwood floors. A weary voice sings along with music only they could hear amidst the small slice of paradise. The echoes of lyrics brushed against the sign and its smeared declaration of being open. Fingerprints coated in chalk pressed against the window like a tricky spirit on a slow day.


“Wise men say only fools rush in, but I…” A sense of battle-caused tiredness lingered in Huy’s voice.

Even if those words seemed light, there was a sharp contrast when the smell of copper clung to them. It perfumed the air in small bursts content to move around, unlike the patches of crimson that clung to a flurry of cuts. Bruises have yet to settle next to the exposed gashes like the ache in his joints. Rather, sweat created a faint gleam against the brown skin and its long held warmth like a scar on the slowly healing wounds. Still, his nimble hands peeled away at band-aids and searched for gauze. In, place of the song etched within his thoughts came bits and pieces of news broadcasts.

“ Local masked vigilante Inkblot stops a bank robbery on twenty-second street before disappearing once again. Whether they are an art-themed ally or a Fine Art trained foe has yet to be seen. “Said a female reporter trying to embody a tight-jawed peppiness that could off the annoyance the poor listeners no doubt feel.

Bank robberies were a dime a dozen, if anything it's closer to babies -first costumed crime than an actual statement nowadays. However, who is he to judge? He's the one who rushed in and tried to stop them on his morning off for god’s sake. Let's open late this Valentine's Day to avoid the rush, they said. Enjoy the morning, they said. It will be nice, they said. As if anything in this city wouldn't end in him getting beat for the fifth time today…

With a groan, he reached for the volume, trying not to leave a thick coating of dried-down mahogany on the battered dials. The room spins along with his unfocused gaze and forming headache turning the strands of hair stuck to his forehead into pitch black blurs, looking more strokes from a pen than a part of his body. Shapes began to move in the corners of his eyes, uneven yet fluid as they crept closer. His breath stopped short for just a second before lukewarm porcelain was pressed into his half-open palm.


“Should I stay? Would it be a sin…”

Once the taste of bitter coffee and shaky dashes of creamer hit his tongue, the world started to still. Although not in sharp focus, it was enough to jolt his nerves back to life after the pain and adrenaline had run its course. Time started to move in minutes rather than sluggish hours without end. His gaze refused to fall on the glint of gold that stared back at him if to chastise him for mixing what should be separate lives. By the time the mug had drained, soft earthy notes carried by the dying steam that traced the ink on his neck had washed away the stench of copper.

Whether he liked it or not, he's got to get on with it, the plus side being that he won't have to talk with his fists anymore. The downside is he has to deal with Karens, while wanting to quite literally slam his head into the nearest wall.

Something between a melted animal cracker, and a griffe bounded between backpacks shoved in the corner with reckless abandon. It peered through zippers and pockets with non-existent eyes, hoping to find a crumpled shirt or usable apron somewhere within the place. There were a few thuds as plaster met ink, making his teeth grind against each other for a few awkward minutes. However, twisting nerves settled into a growing annoyance as black fabric fell onto his face with a graceless flourish.

“That's not what I meant by getting my uniform and you know it!” Huy let out a muffled yell as fought with the unfolding cotton pressed against his features.” You're lucky I am way too tired to fight with my own mind.”


By the time he had fumbled with the few buttons keeping his costume together, his mask had been kicked into some dusty, untouched corner. The traffic’s chaos had slowed almost to a crawl and stragglers dotted the sidewalk. Snippets of conversations filled with the smell of roses and planned surprises flitted in through walls. All while the strings of his apron tied around his waist ushering the scent of brewing coffee and clicking china. The spaces in between thoughts and routine were filled with lyrics yet unfinished. With every verse that left his mouth, the aches began to ebb away into faint memories.

“Take my whole heart too..” Before the sound lingered along with the dust he kicked up, the sounds of a commotion began to stir.

It started small with waves of mummers and half-hearted gasps, as the panic that was meant to come fell flat. Then came the glint of phone screens and the clatter of mechanical parts whirring to life. Although it rose above the groans and moans of the coffee machine, Huy's eyes refused to move from the swish of the broom. Even when the crashing of concrete and rattling of glass pierced through the air, nothing seemed to shake the man as he shifted from one task to the next.

The calm that filled the place seemed almost unshakable as metal arms ripped up streets and tossed cars into the air like crumpled tissues. Hands began to pound on the doors and jiggle locks in a desperate attempt to stow away from the forming fight that was being laid at the forming crowd's feet. Tech seemed to whirr past spouting out corny one-liners belonging to panels stuck in bargain bin comics. Ones covered in dust and filled with smeared line work. However, all it seemed to achieve was topple the few mugs at the ready and tip over the set-out seating.

“For the love of everything we open when we open!” There was a pause as if awaiting the crowd to calm. “No one get your underwear in a twist; the world isn't ending. “

Oh, come on. No, no, no no! This was not coming out of his check this time. It just had to be the snobby, rich type of costumed psychopath, huh…

Although the trek towards the door was short, in theory, the shaking of the floorboards and the air growing heavy seemed to change that. In a way, time seemed to shift into slow motion as robots rose above skyscrapers and locked their focus onto a small dot hovering above it. Despite the small scale, the rubble seemed to rain down in sheets like a thick rain on a long day. A few worried yells and angered complaints bounced against the glass as the lock gave way. The sounds of impatience of feet and the click of photos being taken lapped at his feet.

“One at a time folks, one at a time! We all know the drill.” Huy’s voice slipped back into the ear-piercing chipperness that comes with customer service.” Remember, we will not give you an emergency discount. We all know this is just a Tuesday…”

Bodies pushed past each other in a show that played out like a sickening mix of Black Friday and a natural disaster. Even with the half-familiar sight laid out before him the whole thing was laced with a mundane absurdity. The type of scene that might have once been called out as mere fiction was now just a reminder that the normal slow but orderly lines were a pipe dream at this point. Chairs were taken from their proper place, and a song was sung, which was made of high-pitched scrapes.

Orders, although still a bit frantic, began to fill the spaces between gasps and commentary. Perhaps it was the illusion of safety that created some type of growing calm as the song once leaving his mouth had died. Instead, a stream of totals and drinks was repeated to their owners. Coffee and sweet creams stained his senses as that little dot drew closer, morphing into limbs. Thrashing limbs, ones that were fated to burst through the glass like Icarus into the sea.

This was coming out of his paycheck, wasn't it … why did his new uninvited guest look familiar… oh oh no.

Soon glass decorated the floor along with startled yelps by the few poor souls caught in the aftermath of a poor action movie. A lump of limbs and costumed muscle formed in a contorted arc before sliding to a stop. Rips and tears soaked in a mixing pool of caffeine trying to ebb into the heaped form. Before any sense of peace could settle, a broom broke the frenzied air and pressed against skin.


“This isn’t what I meant by surprising me at work for Valentine’s Day Aviator.” Huy hissed.

One thing James missed about the future was the weather forcast. The morning had started out unassuming: clear blue skies, fresh air, and a southward breeze. Little had James known that the breeze would soon become a wind, and halfway on his walk into town, it would pick up and carry in storm clouds overhead.

Quite quickly, the sun was hidden, and before James knew it, he was walking in the rain.

It was too late to undo his decisions now. Should he have driven, he might've avoided this fate, but of course he'd left the manor intending for a whimsical morning stroll. This was just his luck.

Well -- no matter! He'd been dealt worse cards before, and a little rain never killed him. It might've been worse were it the kind to chill him to the bone, but this rain was warm, and merely heavy.

A few cars passed him on the street, moving far too slow to make more than ripples in the puddles pooling into the gutters. James began to lightly skip as he stepped into the business district and passed under striped shop canopies, sheltering him from the worst of the downpour.

He began to hum, splashing his feet in the puddles around his feet. Before he knew it, he'd begun to do a little dance down the path, spinning to a stop in front of the bakery. With a smile, he looked up at the gold painted lettering on the shop window that read: "Marnie's Bakery."

He stepped in, and the bell overhead jingled.

"Oh! Mr. Jameson!" Amber - Marnie's daughter - exclaimed upon his entry.

James looked up with a tip of his hat. The brim, of course, was dripping.

"I'll wait here a moment, Ms. Amber," James said, acknolwedging the puddle of his own making over the welcome mat. Better to keep it contained than bring in all the rainwater.

"You're soaking wet," Amber said from behind the counter, where she was sliding a tray of croissants into the display case.

Her brown eyes were wide with concern, but James could see the tug of amusement on her lips at how silly James looked standing in the doorway like a wet dog after a bath. She shook her head and closed the back of the display, wiping her flour-dusted hands off on her apron. Her hair was done up in a neat bun so it stayed out of the baked goods, but a stray cowlick fell out at the center of her forehead when she shook her head with a huff.

"You didn't think to bring an umbrella with you, Mr. Jameson?" she asked. The grin teased at her lips once more.

James smiled and shrugged. His sopping jacket sleeves smacked against his sides.

"I suppose I'll think twice next time before getting caught unawares in the rain," he said.

Amber huffed as she turned to take another tray of baked goods - these ones looked like freshly steaming scones - and the smell wafted over to him, sweet and enticing. James floated in a little further, tracing less water with him this time. Just a bit more dry than previous, he shrugged off his jacket and swung it over his shoulder, since it'd taken the brunt of the weather's attack.

"Did you make those?" James asked, watching as Amber slid the tray of scones beneath the croissants in the display case.

"Momma did," Amber said. "We take turns with who works the oven and who works the front."

"Smells amazing," James said, feeling his stomach grumble.

"Would you like one?" Amber asked.

James nodded eagerly as he took off his hat. Amber grinned and laughed through her nose, grabbing a set of tongs by the display and a paper bag.

"Did you come here for anything else?" she asked, tucking the scone into the bag.

"I was hoping to get a loaf of bread or two," James said.

"A particular kind?" Amber handed the bag to him.

"What do most people go for?" James asked instead.

This wasn't quite like he was used to: there were no real menus, and he was always a little afraid of slipping out something strange - asking for something that didn't exist yet, or saying something odd. Even so, he still found himself getting the occasional head tilt for his mannerisms.

Then again, that happened in the future, too, now that he thought about it...

"...is popular," Amber was saying. "And a lot of customers come in for our Friday Specials, where you can get two loaves for the price of one. Monday mornings we also have muffins on sale."

James blinked, realizing he'd spaced out for about half of what she'd said, zoning out in the direction of the croissants.

It took him a moment to pick up where she'd just left off: muffins, and specials. It wasn't Friday or Monday, though -- it was a Thursday, so James found himself now at a loss. He'd missed the answer to his original question.

"Two loaves, then," he said, nodding to himself as a sell of confidence.

He peeked into the paper bag, and a small stream of heat curled up to his face from the scone. It smelled so good.

Amber raised her brow, smiling in a wry manner.

"Two loaves coming up," she said, turning around to the rack behind her. She lifted a cloth set over loaves of bread and pulled two out, wrapping a cloth back around them before she set them on the counter.

Meanwhile, James tucked the scone closer to the mouth of the bag and snuck a bite, which he soon regretted. It was hot.

He hissed a little too loudly when his tongue was irrecoverably burnt. Now he was just trying to chew and swallow with the least amount of damage possible. Unfortunately chewing meant his whole mouth was too hot, and he ended up covering his mouth with one hand as he blew out in vain to release the heat.

Amber chuckled as she slid the wrapped loaves into a paper bag.

"You're that hungry?" she asked.

"I just thought I'd try a bite..." James said, slightly sticking out his burnt tongue.

"You poor thing," Amber teased, scooting the bread across the counter between them. "Do you want some water?"

"Pleathe," James said, still recovering.

Amber pressed her lips together like she was biting back another laugh and she lifted a hand. "One moment," she said, as she disappeared in the back.

In her absence, James reached into his pocket in search of his wallet, and he leafed through his cash, trying to do the math for how much the loaves and the scone were worth. If he remembered correctly, the dramatic difference with inflation and value would make it...

He put a dollar on the counter.

He realized the moment Amber came out that he'd put far too much. It was then that James realized there was a sign with prices. It was by the display. He'd missed it entirely. In dismay, he read: 15 cents a loaf.

Fifteen cents?

The dramatic difference still sent him reeling.

"Sorry, I'll uh--" he said, reaching for the bill.

"I have change!" Amber said quickly, lifting up a hand with a nervous laugh. But it was clear he'd already left an impression that he was Mr. Moneybags.

"I'm sure -- well, someone as close to your ladyship as you--" Amber murmured, clicking her tongue before offering him a cup of water. "Sorry, I shouldn't say anything! That's not my buisness. Here."

James awkwardly nodded as he took the cup and sipped, but he knew he'd have to diffuse this awkwardness quickly. Saying he didn't have any change on him would probably not help the perception of wealth, so...

"You can keep it," he said instead with a smile.

Amber froze, looking up at him with wide eyes and coins half-counted from the register in her palm.

"Then I'm sending you home with more bread!" Amber said, putting her empty hand on her hip.

James laughed. "No, really--"

"I insist!" she said, hurrying back to the display. "You liked the scone, didn't you?"

"Well, now that I could probably actually taste it--"

"Some more scones, another loaf, a croissant--" Amber went on, grabbing pastries and breads and putting them in bags. James decided this was a losing battle, and just laughed. Amber placed the now-pile of fresh baked goods on the counter and grabbed a spool of twine, tying it together.

"Good business like yours deserves good service," she said, carefully tying a bow.

"I just like your bakery," James said.

"And we quite appreciate your business," Amber said emphatically with a flush to her cheeks.

James grinned fondly, watching as Amber perfected the bow with precise pulls and secured the breads in a nicely arranged and bound pile. He'd grown partial to Marnie's Bakery -- not because of Marnie, really -- but because of Amber.

She was sweet, like this, and she'd always get a little silly when she was flustered.

"Here you are, Mr. Jameson," she said, halting her fussing.

"Thank you, Ms. Amber," James said with a wide smile, setting his cup of water down before flopping his hat back on his head. It did so with a little splatter of droplets around his head.

Amber snickered at that, but then looked down at her feet in a shy manner.

"You know," she said. "Next time you come, I'd take flowers as payment."

James's brows shot up as he shrugged his coat back on.

"That so?" he asked with a growing grin.

Amber smiled in return with reddening cheeks. "That's so."

James picked up his order with a smile matching hers.

"Then you'll have to tell me your favorite," he said.

"Peonies," she answered.

With a nod, James turned and tucked the sides of his coat over his package, comically making himself look like he had a big belly underneath.

"Peonies for Amber it is!" he said, marching out the door and back into the rain.