#thank you for reading along as I boil off the last sad vapors of my patience!

[ereborne]

An open letter, to everyone from this afternoon's meeting:

Christ a-fuckin-live, yes, I do think all these redundancies are really necessary! It's not even that many redundancies, are you fucking joking, I'm not asking for a full and proper PACE plan (yet! not yet but oh you best bet it's coming, you idiot bitches give me a contingency inch and I will take a save-your-ass mile) it is literally training one extra person for each task. One! Do you know how close to the bone we are already running. Do you know the cold sweat that haunts me. One single solitary contingency! I am here begging bare-bellied for the meanest of scraps and you're interrupting me. You are swinging over the gaping abyss of absolute moronity and as I hand-tie the slimmest of career safety nets beneath you, you argue with me!

Every month we voluntarily take our entire system down and hard reset it, because the tooth-grinding inconvenience of a controlled descent is better than the comminuted fractures of a natural crash, but if you would rather the broken bones, that can certainly be arranged. Every day someone asks me to hunt down direly-needed information, and I burrow weasel-like through digital snowbanks until I find the problems and crack their spines between my teeth. Would you like to see how I do it. I have built checks for unreturnable queries into my daily routine, do you think that is a standard practice? It would literally be easier for me to let them break and frame a different one of you for each failure than to continue maintaining them all. If you really want to know about most efficient use of time, I will show you the math. It will look very like the forked end of a crowbar, and I will gladly give you a thorough breakdown! That said,

Please fill out the highlighted lines on the attached form. Your supervisor has been copied on this message. Thank you for your support.

[prophetandprincess]

Mass Effect #4

We reached the sad part of the program ladies and germs. 

The only light in Nova’s quarters came from the small lamp next to her computer. She had been staring at the screen for hours now, attempting to figure out what to type. There were no words sufficient for the message Nova had to send, but Ashley’s family deserved more than the generic military condolences. Ash deserved better. 

Nova flexed her hand, knuckles raw and bloody. She hadn’t had the heart to go to the gym, it reminded her of Ashley and all the time they had worked out together side by side. Instead, she had taken her frustration out of the wall of her cabin. A bone might be broken from the intense bruising that was happening, but Nova would have Dr. Chakwas patch her up later if needed. Right now, she wanted to feel the pain physically as well as emotionally. She wanted to suffer. 

Ash died because of me. Because of us.

Nova winced as she closed her hand into a tight fist, pain shooting up her arm. Kaidan was right, though she really wished he hadn’t made that particular statement in the middle of a debriefing. She didn’t doubt that the crew had all figured out there was something between the two of them, but it was a completely different matter to drag it out into the open to cite why someone was dead. Nova had recovered and stated that Saren was the one to blame, and he was, but Nova could have saved Ash if it wasn’t for Kaidan being in trouble as well. If it was anyone else on the team, Garrus or Tali, would she have made the same call? Did it matter now?

The logical side of her brain told her that it was an impossible situation, that she was lucky Ashley was the only member of the Normandy that she lost, and that they had struck a blow to Saren by ending the Krogan breeding experiments. None of that mattered. She had left Ashley to die because she couldn’t bear that thought of losing Kaidan. Nova had murdered her as much as if she had pulled a trigger. The worst part was that Ashley didn’t seem at all surprised. She knew it was never a choice. 

Still, Nova’s fingers did not start to compose the letter of condolence that she knew needed to be written. What good were her words when her family wouldn’t even have a body to bury? It had been vaporized by the makeshift bomb along with the Korgan, geth, and Salarians. Her mother  and sisters would mourn an empty casket and any letter about Ashley’s sacrifice saving the galaxy would be meaningless. To them, nothing would be important enough to have that hole in their family. 

That mental clock was still ticking loudly in Nova’s head. The Normaday was currently hurtling toward the Citadel, where Nova was going to have to present her case to the Council about the threat of Saren and the Reapers. She had spoken with one, Saveregin, and was more convinced than ever that the galaxy was in serious fucking trouble. Even if they wouldn’t listen to Nova, they had to listen to her after they heard Captain Kiarrahea and his men's report. It wouldn’t be the Normandy against this threat alone anymore, Nova would not have to shoulder this burden alone. Still, there was so much that Nova had to do before then. There was just not enough time. There was never enough time. 

There was no time to mourn or honor Ashley, not when so many other lives were at stake. Ash would have understood. As soon as this was over, Nova would start petitioning to get some sort of accommodation for Ashley. It wouldn’t bring her back, but maybe it would take away a bit of the gaping hole her family would feel if Ashley had regained the military honor her grandfather had lost. Maybe it wouldn’t, but it was the least that Nova could do. If she got the Star of Terra for not dying on her day off, Ashley deserved something for volunteering for a suicide mission to save the galaxy. 

Nova would have loved to get up and stretch her legs, even to just walk around the Normandy to clear her head. However, there was nowhere to go that was safe. The gym and the garage reminded her too much of Ashley and Kaidan was stationed right where he always was, which happened to be only a couple feet from the door to her quarters. Nova knew that she would have to talk to him eventually, about everything, but right now there was only so much she could take emotionally before she broke. There was no time to break, they’d be at the Citadel soon and she still hadn’t composed this damn letter. 

Still, she got up and did a lap around her quarters, rolling her shoulders and neck, hoping for some brilliant spark of inspiration. As if a life could be boiled down to a page statement. As if that page statement would offer any comfort to anyone. Yet, she had to write it, even though it was only to release some of the guilt she felt. She just had to find the words. 

“Commander, we’re approaching the Citadel. We should be in docks in about an hour,” Joker’s voice came into the room. “Figured you’d want a heads up.” 

“Thanks Joker,” Nova sighed as she plopped back down in front of the computer. “Give me a fifteen minute warning.” 

“Aye, aye,” Joker said before closing the line of communication. Once again she wondered if the pilot didn’t spy on her from time to time or if he just had uncanny timing. 

Nova stared at the screen for a couple more heartbeats before she finally started to write. There was a lot of editing and deleting of whole paragraphs before there was finally a statement that she wasn’t embarrassed to send to the Williams family. After reading it twice more, Joker gave Nova the fifteen minute warning. There was no more time, not for this. So, with a shaking finger, Nova sent the message and put on her armor. She would not let Ash’s death be in vain if it was the last thing she did, God as her witness. 

To the Williams Family,

There is nothing I can write that will ease the unimaginable pain you are experiencing at this time. There is no explanation that I may be able to provide that will change the fact that you have lost a member of your family.  I won’t waste your time telling you about Ashely, about her loyalty and her bravery, because you already know that better than I do. I won’t tell you that her sacrifice has saved countless lives across the galaxy, though it did, because that won’t give you any peace. In the end, all I can give you is the knowledge that your pain is shared with others, with myself and the entire crew of the Normandy, and that we grieve for her and all the good she would have done if her time hadn’t been cut short. 

Ashley was a good soldier, anyone could tell you that, but she was a better friend. She never hid what she was thinking or felt, which was needed on the missions that she was asked to go on while stationed on the Normandy. In those conversations she told me that more than anything, she wished to make her family proud, to be the Alliance Soldier that people could look up to, even with the last name Williams. She was. Even before this sacrifice, Ashley was one of the best that the Alliance could ask for and her loss will be felt throughout the ranks. However, I lost a friend, and that is a much deeper wound, though nowhere near the same as losing a daughter and a sister. I feel as if I know all of you from the stories she told about your family, how much she deeply loved you all, and knowing what she gave up to save so many makes the pain harder to bear. She did not make the decision lightly and she will not be forgotten by myself or anyone else on this ship. 

I hope knowing that Ashley touched and helped so many lives provides a small comfort to you when you have a moment to come up for air from your grief. If there is anything else I can do to provide some understanding, please let me know. I wish there was time for me to come see you in person, to accept the anger that you must feel toward me, to grieve with you. Maybe soon there will be. However, right now all I can provide is this letter and my heartfelt condolences. May Ashley be resting peacefully in heaven, as I know she believed she would be. 

Respectfully yours,

Nova Shepard.

[manifestoonmoralmanlove]

Soulless Riffing: Brainless Ch.10 + 11.

I got a supernatural action/romance book series as a gift that’s just riddled with stuff that I hate….and as a steampunk Victorian London action romance story filled with werewolves and vampires…it’s yeah gonna be easy to poke fun at.

I just want to say, it’s totally cool if you like this story or ones like it!  It’s certainly a better caliber than a lot of what I make fun of…however…I can’t help but want to make fun of it.

Over here for the 1st, 2nd, 3rd, 4th, 5th, 6th, 7+8th, and 9th.

Chapter 10 is short so I threw in 11 too! SO FUCK IT HERE GOES!

Chapter 10

So this zombie bursts in to attack Alexia and Lord Akeldama.  The zombie’s clever plan is to just start…pouring chloroform on the floor. I don’t think that’s how that works but lol ok whatever. Immediately the super powerful vampire is out cold.  They talk about how gaudy and huge Lord Akeldama’s house is, so I totally pictured the zombie kicking the door open, pouring it, and even though he’s still like 50 feet away he’s out like a light.

So my head canon for this is the zombie is like, “Well they’re obviously going to get away! Why bother!?” So he just pours out a medicine bottle’s worth of chloroform out of annoyed futility. Lord Akeldama since he’s such a DANDY thinks the zombie poured some kind of staining liquid like wine all over his centuries old, priceless Turkish rug.  He’s so mortified that his favorite rug is ruined and feints on the spot.

Now this scenario makes sense, YOU’RE WELCOME!

Alexia is able to hit the zombie in the head 3 times before she realizes that’s not working and the fumes OVERCOME HER! YES SHE LITERALLY GETS THE VAPORS!

THANK FUCK! FOR ACTUAL DRAMA!

When she wakes up she’s being dragged bound and gagged into the Hypocras Club for scientists.  She overhears some shady biz about how they want to experiment on Lord Akledama.  She also notices an obnoxiously prominent octopus motif in the place.  It might as well read,

“Alexia turned the octopus-shaped knob, of the octopus-shaped door, to reveal an octopus-shaped hallway, with live octopuses hanging from the wall all wondering where they got such a bad rep from.”

The two of them get thrown in a cell and are able to undo their gags.  The less cool version of Blackadder’s Prince George (Lord Akeldama) explains that the zombie-thing is an automaton or basically a fleshy robot/golem.  He also explains that the robot can only be undone if you speak the magic word. Looks as if safe words work much better in this universe than they ever did in 50 shades!

 ALSO JUST KIDDING CAUSE THERE’S ANOTHER WAY TO STOP IT BUT WON’T BE REVEALED UNTIL IT’S A SUPER TENSE MOMENT! HARDY HAR HAR!

But we actually get a genuinely good scene after this where Lord Akledama talks about the fact they both may die.  He says that, if it’s possible, he wants Alexia to hold his hand so he can see the sun one last time.  It’s cheesy, and probably not going to be applicable in the situation they’re in, but it’s really sweet and sad and I like it.  The baddies then come back to drag Akledama out of the cell, presumably to be tortured to death.

NO! I WAS JUST STARTING TO ACTUALLY LIKE HIM!

Say something Nice Faps:

Actual plot

No or little mention of the dumbass ship

Akledama wanting to see the sun.

Chapter 11

So Alexia is not having the best time in the cell by herself but eventually she hears voices. We have super unsubtle exposition that boils down to.

“So yeah we’re torturing werewolves and vampires, so we can figure out how to genocide them REAL GOOD!”

Hoo boy listen. The only other racist thing against vampires/werewolves we have seen in action is a woman talk briefly about how untoward it is that a business is catering to THOSE kinds of people. I will not count all the vague times Alexia alludes to them being oppressed with no concrete examples.

Going from, Bad person is annoyed they may have to glance at a vampire while at a cafe, to inhuman experiments meant to further genocide is AT BEST a huge jump and at worse flat out feels entirely separate from the setting created.

Fun Fact: Racism isn’t a child predator who hides in the shadows and pops out when you need a scapegoat.  Racism is fucking everywhere effecting everything.

Don’t try to add racism allusions in your story if you can’t grasp that fundamental concept.

Faps, nobody picked up steampunk werewolf fucker for commentary on race. And besides the inability to grasp the complexity of racism is going to seem quaint next to some of the dumb writing bullshit coming up next.

So during this conversation this mysterious bad man also states, “We have a random human in this cell, cause she was there lol.”

“Can I see her?”

“Lol why not!?”

So we open up the cell to meet the big baddie Siemons, whom, I’m probably just going to refer to as childish evilguy nicknames for awhile cause his characterization is as on the nose as you can get.  Like no joke, whenever they mention him smiling it’s, “He smiles psychotically.” 

The guy, Mr. bigbad was talking to turns out to be #1 Stud MacDougall!

GASSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSP

Actually I totally called this cause she mentions 3 times during their short conversation that she recognizes the 2nd voice, it would be most DRAMATIC, and cause I have money down that he’s secretly a bad, bad man so Alexia doesn’t feel bad about not fucking a fatty. She’s not shallow; he’s just a bad person you see.

BUT, to this story’s credit MacDougall is AGHAST to find Alexia in there, goes to her side, and demands she be set free at once.

Evilbaddy Von Octo-dump is like, “Oh! She’s Alexia the Soulless who can stop supernatural powers! We inexplicably did not put 2 and 2 together despite being super smart Nazi-scientists.  I mean we very obviously tried to kidnap her 3 separate times, and stole her records for more info. But we weren’t actually interested in kidnapping her. We just tried to get a vampire and took her along for the lulz!”  Why even put in the effort to say they weren’t after her? This is stupid!

MacDougall, despite studying the supernatural FOR A LIVING, has never heard of the Soulless phenomenon and like…

FUCK HOW AND WHY AND ARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGH!

The author states explicitly that all the supernaturals in England not only are aware of the Soulless but are informed of the identity of every single Soulless.  How would normies NOT know? Vampires and werewolves hang with humans all the time, and it makes no sense why the Soulless would be hidden information from the general public.  Soulless can pose a threat to the supernatural not regular boring humans, there’s no reason to believe that the average citizen is going to be upset at this knowledge at all.

This wouldn’t even, so far, cause any plot inconsistencies if everybody knew.  I think the rub here is that we have to justify her family not knowing so the reveal would make them upset, but we’ll see how important that plot point actually is.  Honestly, I fear the author is just so used to supernatural media where SOMETHING is hidden from the general population she felt compelled to do the same.

MacDougall convinces Meaniemollusk NaziStink to take off her restraints and try to get her on their side. They allow her to clean up and change. Alexia takes advantage of this to go to the Octopus shaped mirror, break off an octopus-shaped shard, cover it in octo-cloth, and hide it in her octo-bosum.

Alexia tries to play dumb and meek in order to appease Squidlly MurderMan.  He tells her he plans to kill all Vampires and Werewolves.  She points out that they’re scientists with a political agenda and apparently that’s her breaking her bimbo character and the gig is up.

OKAY?????????????????

They then take her to another cell.  On the way there she hears Lord Akeldama’s blood-curling torture screams, but she doesn’t seem all that upset.  I mean she probably doesn’t want to appear outwardly upset to blow the gig even more, but we don’t really have much internal monologue about how worried she is.

So that’s cool.

They want to test her soulsucking ability and she lies saying it takes an hour. (Which is hard to believe, isn’t soulless supposed to be common knowledge in England, and also they stole all the notes anyway they probably know.)  They also OUTRIGHT SAY they’re planning on killing her anyway but it would be rad if she was cool about it. They say they’re going to murder/test it by putting her in a cell with a rabid werewolf to SEE WHAT HAPPENS!? (She’d probably die but lol turns out it’s Lord Maccon aren’t we all shocked.) But like let’s break this whole mess down.

1.)    You uhhh consider LYING that you won’t kill her if she cooperates. That tends to encourage people to cooperate. YOU ARE BAD PEOPLE AFTERALL AND BAD PEOPLE LIE!

2.)    HOW FUCKING INCOMPREHENSIBLY DUMB ARE THESE FUCKING SCIENTISTS!?  You UHH MAYBE consider you could learn a fuck-load from experiments where a person can turn off a supernaturals’ ability at will? PERHAPS it’ll be easier to genocide them if they’re not super-fast, super strong, immortal AND can heal real fast????? WHAT COLOSSAL FATHEADS ARE RUNNING THIS JOINT!? AUTHOR? YOU CAN HAVE THEM BE SUPER EVIL AND BAD WITHOUT THEM IMMEDIATELY TRYING TO KILL PROTAG? YANNO?

Also throwing her in a locked room with a PEAK werewolf, even if they never believed it took that long, is basically instant-death for her.  She’s kinda arrogant when it comes to self-defense but even she’s like, “I’d be super lucky if I even reach the point of having the shit kicked out of me before I can turn him completely enough for them to not be a threat.”

So they take the antidote to the supposed poison they want to snuff out and just dump it down the drain.

BUT GOLLY I’M SURE LOOKING FORWARD TO THOSE OVERGROWN CHILDREN ALMOST FUCKING IN THAT CELL! THAT’S GONNA BE SWELL!

Say something Nice Faps:

No shitty Maccon/Alexia verbal sparring

MacDougall does try to not get her killed. I mean he just shouts dramatically.  Not that I’m asking him to fall right on a sword but it does seem a bit tepid. But like for a woman who gleefully and regularly puts herself in danger? Maybe that’s the response that’s appropriate.

Also the author never really says MacDougall is down to clown with Murder Bigots.  So I guess what I’m trying to say is I’d still fuck MacDougall apart.

[cinful-stories]

A Deal's a Deal (Leo Crawford x MC)

(No warnings. Just classic Leo humor/ fluff.)

I groaned audibly as my tender feet shuffled down the corridors of the royal palace. The muscles beneath my heels were twisted into knots, and I fumbled across the marble floors like a newborn fawn. I had just been released from a dancing lesson with Duke Howard that had left me in a state of agony, and my feet were suffering the consequences. As it turns out, classical ballet is not as painless as Louis makes it appear.

After narrowly avoiding a collision with a porcelain statue of the King, I was able to locate the door to my private chambers. A wave of relief washed over me as I finally curled my fingers around the doorknob and crossed the threshold. Upon entering, I discovered Nico bustling around my bed, stacking pillows like the peaks of mountains.

“You do realize that I’m going to take those off when I sleep tonight, right?” I asked, gesturing to the mound of pillows that crowded his feet.

As I spoke, the young butler turned his head toward the direction of my voice and was evidently alarmed by what he saw.

“Oh, Your Highness!” Nico exclaimed, amber orbs bulging with concern. “You look awful!”

“Thank you for the encouraging words, Nico,” I grumbled, clawing at the ribbons that fastened my ballet shoes to my ankles until I was able to kick them haphazardly across the room.

Without additional commentary, my attendant released his grip on the remaining pillows and rushed to my aid. He snaked an arm around the small of my spine and placed a firm hand on my bicep.

“Please, Princess, you need to start taking better care of yourself! How did this happen?” Nico coddled, roughly pushing me down on my bed and pulling the sheets up to my chin.

I scoffed lightly before gruffly saying, “Ask Louis.”

“Well, whatever happened surely could be fixed with ice and bedrest. I strongly recommend that you take the afternoon off from any obligations. Do you have any events scheduled for today?” Nico inquired, darting around my head like a hummingbird.

My attendant abandoned my side and lifted a porcelain tray from its pedestal on my oak desk. He masterfully balanced containers of boiling tea, granulated sugar, and raw honey on the reflective object. I plucked up a cup of black tea in my fingers and brought it to my lips.

Between sips I replied, “Leo scheduled a lesson about the cultural traditions of Laurelia for this afternoon, but that–”

“Consider it cancelled, then,” he stated firmly. “I’ll inform Leo of your impending absence immediately. I’ll be back to check on you soon, but don’t hesitate to call if you need anything.”

“Nico, wait!”

It was too late. The young man had already shut the door behind him, leaving me alone with my thoughts. Submitting to my situation, I sank into the ocean of pillows behind me and slung an arm over the side of my bedframe. My fingers had to toss aside bundles of fabric that dangled from my canopy before locating the bedside table. Inside the wooden container was a heavy book.

It had been a few weeks since I was last able to hold the novel in my hand, and I had nearly forgotten how weighty it was. The cover was thickly bounded with blue leather, and the golden pages were brittle from the cruel passage of time; however, the familiar scent of parchment and ink still lingered from it, and it intermingled with the herbal aroma of hot tea. I gingerly opened the front cover of the novel and found myself running an index finger down a particular bookmark nestled halfway through the pages. Leo had gifted this to me after a trip to the marketplace in town in an effort to encourage me to read more, and I had treasured it ever since.

Perhaps having an afternoon to myself for once wouldn’t be so bad.

A few hours had passed by unnoticed as I continued to plunge myself into the world of literature. During my mental absence, the sun had lowered itself from its pedestal in the azure sky, and now my bedroom was bathed in a warm, golden light.

When I had resigned to an afternoon of privacy, I had not expected to be allowed to have such a luxury. Under normal circumstances, I would be visited by Giles presenting me with detailed schedules or my entourage of maids folding my dresses, but Nico had been my lone visitor…

…until a peculiar knock sounded on the door.

My (e/c) eyes flickered upward from the black, inky words for the first time in hours. I was accustomed to having Nico barge into my chambers without explanation; therefore, my interest was piqued as to why he would need to ask for entry.

“Nico, I’ve already told you that you can visit whenever you wish. There’s no need to knock,” I called.

“That sounds nice. You should consider extending that privilege to me, Princess.”

“I beg your pardon?”

The door to my chambers was pushed inward, and a familiar blonde bureaucrat stepped inside. His pale skin was glowing like metal in the golden sunshine, and his purple coat nipped at his heels as he elegantly glided into my room. His scarlet orbs crinkled into slits as they rested on my astonished face, and a sly smile stretched across his cheeks.

His slender hands shut the door behind him as he said smugly, “I heard from Nico that you decided to skip our cultural lesson this afternoon.”

A bright pink hue rose to my cheeks at the prospect of the attractive bureaucrat interacting with me behind closed doors.

“Leo, I didn’t make that decision by–”

“That’s what your attendant told me,” he interjected, waving a hand to stop my protests.

Silence fell between us as my instructor slinked over to my bedside table, his fingers lifting the teacup from its coaster. Absentmindedly, his flirtatious smirk softened as he gazed at the herbal vapor.

“Are your feet feeling any better?” he inquired in a gentler tone, never tearing his eyes away from the liquid swirling in the cup.

“I believe so, yes.”

“That’s relieving news,” he began, setting the teacup down and sitting on the edge of my bed. “I was hoping that you would recover in time to accompany me to Laurelia’s ball like we had discussed.”

A snort escaped my lips and a wide grin pulled my mouth upward. Leo was always inviting me to several political functions and offering to escort me to Wysteria’s various globally-recognized events, but neither of us ever committed to the idea.

“And also like we discussed, you will remember my answer,” I laughed softly, grinning at the handsome man. “Giles has already arranged for me to attend with Lord Martin. It would be quite the spectacle if the Princess Elect of Wysteria arrived with two escorts in tow, wouldn’t it?”

“Ah, but that’s when I explain to Lord Martin about your unfortunate accident and that you are no longer available to go with him,” the bureaucrat plotted tantalizingly, a fiery light flaming in his eyes.

I felt a suggestive smirk cut across my face.

“Then I would refuse to attend the ball entirely. After all, I can’t just show up when one of my best bureaucrats has informed the public of my ‘unfortunate accident’.”

At this, Leo’s eyes dropped from my face and he shook his head. A soft chuckle spilled from his mouth, tasting mildly of sadness and irony.

“I just can’t win with you, can I?” he spoke wistfully, placing a firm hand on his knee. Before I could reply, his eyes laid on a particular object resting in my hands. “What’s this, Princess?”

“Oh, this? It’s just the book I’ve been reading all afternoon. The Untold Tales of James St. Michael. Have you read it before?”

“I have. It’s a fantastic read,” Leo admired. “How far along are you?”

I opened to a particular page toward the rear of the novel and showed him the number inscribed in the upper right-hand corner.

“I’m almost to the end. I believe there’s only a few chapters left,” I explained, my eyes brimming with excitement at the prospect of finally finishing a literary masterpiece since becoming the princess elect.

“I see,” the young man murmured thoughtfully.

A broad smirk crept across the bureaucrat’s face as he gazed at the novel with hungry eyes. Suddenly, he lunged forward and snatched the object out of my arms.

“Leo—!” I cried, reaching out for him. “What are you doing?”

The older Crawford brother sprung up from his perch on the bed, holding the novel high above his head. At standing height, Leo was already several inches taller than me, but that distance was lengthened when I was confined to a bed. I attempted to prop myself up on my knees and jump for his hands, but it was no use. The bureaucrat only took a step back from the perimeter of the bed, easily evading my grasp.

“Leo, this is ridiculous. I’m going to lose my page! You know I can’t get out of this bed.”

“That’s the idea, (y/n),” he replied, taking the book out of the sky and lowering it to his chest.

Leo’s fingers then dived into the confines of his vest pocket and retrieved his pair of reading glasses. They proceeded to slide the thickly-rimmed, black spectacles onto the bridge of his nose. The man began to scan over the contents of the novel in silence, pouring over its descriptive language.

“You’re taking advantage of a crippled princess, you know. I’m sure there’s some article in Wysterian law that allows me to forcibly remove you from the palace under such circumstances,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest defiantly.

“There’s not,” he muttered quietly, concentrating entirely on the words racing beneath his eyes.

From my position on the bed, I could see the ink reflected in the lenses of his glasses. His reading comprehension speed with impressive and much quicker than my own. His fingers were toying absentmindedly with the bookmark wedged in the novel’s binding, and I thought I caught a glimpse of a tinder smile pulling at his lips when he realized which bookmark it was.

“Leo?”

“Yes, Princess?” he answered.

“Can I have it back now?”

After a spell of silence, the bureaucrat sighed and shut the book, keeping the bookmark firmly tucked in its rightful place.

“Let’s make a deal. I’ll return your book to you if you agree to attend Laurelia’s upcoming ball with me. Not as a business partner, and not as Wysteria’s Princess, but as (y/n),” he offered, his eyes boring into mine from behind the spectacles that were slowly sliding down his nose.

My heart began to flutter at his request. Prior to this encounter, I had never suspected that his intentions behind asking to escort me to events were real. His behavior with other noblewomen had led me to believe that this was a common occurrence, but after seeing his eyes linger on the bookmark and hearing the sincerity in his voice at this request, I realized his feelings for me were as mutual as mine were for him. Feeling my cheeks glow with a natural heat, I replied softly.

“It’s a date, Mr. Crawford.”

The bureaucrat smiled brightly and chuckled warmly. He stepped forward and offered the novel to me with an outstretched hand.

“Here you are, Your Highness. A deal's a deal,” he said with a nod. “I will inform Giles of your change of arrangements this evening at dinner. I suppose he will make me pay Lord Martin a visit to bear the bad news.”

The young man turned on his heels, his coat floating in his wake, and began walking toward the door.

“So then, Leo. What can I expect from our date? I certainly hope it’s more relaxed and less educational than our lessons,” I inquired.

Leo halted his stride for a moment and pondered over the question before responding.

“I’m not certain of what you can expect from me as your partner, but you can definitely expect James St. Michael to die at the end of the story.”

I immediately felt a weight drop in the pit of my stomach at the abrupt revelation. In a huff, I slammed the book down on my bedside table and gritted my teeth.

"Leo Crawford!” I yelled furiously, reaching behind my head and launching a pillow at his fleeing form.

Leo’s cackling laugh could be heard from all the way down the corridor.