Everything Blue

“I don’t like this one bit.” Christian swiped a hand over his forehead, and the blue mark glimmered; his eyes glowed just a bit, too. How had anyone ever believed he was fully human? Perhaps that was evidence of his father’s power, that people had just accepted that he was Ranolfe’s baby brother and not his son of an illicit affair with the Queen of the Wild Hunt.

Anna slapped his wrist lightly. “If you stop touching it, no one will see, will they?”

Christian hefted his new sword, looked down at his new armor. It looked just like his old armor, if a touch shinier and perhaps glowing again with that faint, surreal blue that was the mark of Quislai magic.

“They’ll see the color, though, won’t they?” He turned away from the mirror pool and sighed.


Anna was dressed as a servant again, clutching her harp. “What color?”

“The blue.”


“What blue?”

Christian gaped at her. “The everything blue,” he said, making a sweeping gesture to indicate his armor and weapon and even the blue mark on his skin. Then he saw that Anna was trying not to laugh.

She reached out, brushed her fingertip over the mark, and he felt it hum before it vanished from view.

“No one will notice,” she said. “After all, the sky is blue, as is the sea, and people rarely take the time to notice them.” She started back toward the manor house.

Christian trotted after her. “The sea is blue?”

Anna blinked at him. “Ah. Right. You’ve never seen it. Yes, the sea is blue, except for when it’s green.”

(270 words)

Project Assignment # 70 - Color

Lets use color as the vehicle of our stories this week. A vibrant colorful scene, a world of color, or one purposely devoid of colors. It can be story, poetry, anything you want.

Let's keep it under 500

Overview #69: Plot Kink

At first I was stuck for a plot kink, then I realized that I had somewhat set one up already simply by the fact that I had identical twins in my story, and it was already established that they get confused fairly often. So it was easy enough to pick mistaken identity as my plot device. But coming up with a situation to fit it was harder. I chose to set the story in their high school years because there is so much possibility for angst and drama over a confusion. Now obviously it didn't end up angsty, but I think it did bring a little more light onto Bryan's personality. That while he can seem unconcerned and carefree, and often unthoughtful, he does care about the girl enough to worry that she might think he had been lying to her on purpose, and what she would think of him when he told her the truth, and even if he wanted to tell her the truth because of the fear of rejection. He really does like her and doesn't want to lie to her, and the endless 'What if she really prefers Mark and that is why she likes me' type of thing. It was fun to run with for a week.

Overview #69: Plot Kink

I have so many favorite plot kinks that it was hard to pick, but I'd been messing with this one for a while during the crazy finals/graduation hiatus, so I went with this one. It was honestly difficult to arc the subtleties, nuances, humor, and reality (as much reality as there is) for a body-swap in just six posts, so I hit the highlights, and I had fun with this. It didn't turn out quite how I'd like, but then that seems to be the nature of the beast when it comes to writing 400-word bursts over six days. Nevertheless, even though the fun of the plot kink didn't get fully explored, I developed a sense of the characters, and it was good times, and I think more good times would likely unfold if I ever tried to turn it into a proper story.

I learned something this week, even if it wasn't what I had set out wanting to learn. Next time, who knows which twist I'll pick?

Also...game on to Madness, who finally gets to pick a challenge after all my dreadful procrastination.

Denouement

“I see you kept your end,” Niamh said quietly, looking her own body over. As promised, Niall had trained to keep Niamh’s body strong all year.

Niall nodded. “And you.” He accepted the spellbook.

“What did Declan say?” Niamh asked.

“We must return immediately.” Niall frowned; for one moment, Niamh thought she was looking in a mirror.

“You’d better say my goodbyes,” Niamh said.

“I’m sorry.” Niall squeezed her hand.

“Me too.” Niamh nudged him in the direction of the knights’ hall. “Your princes await.”

“I’ll make it brief so no one notices.” Niall returned the spellbook and ducked out of the alcove, drew the curtains closed behind him so Niamh could hide.

Only before the heavy velvet fell shut, a hand thrust into the gap and pulled the curtains wide.

“Hello there.” Aurelius, grinning, stepped into the alcove. Ambrosius came up behind him; his expression was grim.

“Your Highness.” Niamh started to bow, then fumbled into a curtsey.

“Did you really think,” Aurelius said, “that Ambrosius wouldn’t notice such powerful magic going on right under his nose?”

Niamh’s eyes went wide; she clutched the spellbook close. “I’ve done no magic, My Lord --”

“I daresay you have,” Ambrosius said. “This entire time, you were a girl?”

Niamh cursteyed again. “My Lord, I am Niamh, sister to Niall, your page --”

“The boy who just left is no page of ours,” Ambrosius said. “The entire time you served us, I could sense something was off, that your magic was disjointed, but now it’s back in place, and I see why.”

He knew? Niamh lifted her head. “There’s a good explanation for this, My Lord.”

Aurelius arched an eyebrow.

“All right, not a good one as much as one day I woke up and Niall had switched us and I wanted to be a knight anyway, and no one would have known, only now father is dying and Niall is to inherit, and I --”

“And you’re going to deprive us of the best page we’ve ever had?” Aurelius said. “Come along - we’ve bribed one of the barbers to cut your hair and a scullery maid to help disguise you. Quick - before Father notices.”

Niamh blinked. “My Lord --”

“When this is all over, maybe one of us will marry you,” Ambrosius said, and he grinned. “I’ll give that book to Niall. He’ll be interested to know that Father’s accepted my proposal for battle mages.”

I'm Bryan

Bryan straitened his tie nervously as he tapped Amanda on the shoulder. The dance was in full swing and he had been watching her for a few minutes from across the room. He swallowed in awe as Amanda turned to face him. She was in a floor length burgundy gown, a simple flowing design that accented her figure perfectly; her hair was curled and twisted into a simple up-do that left a few tendrils framing her face.

Amanda smiled brightly as she turned and saw Mark standing behind her. "Mark!" she said with surprise, "you came."

Bryan nodded mutely, looking for all the world as if he wanted to run.

"I'm glad you came," Amanda said as she looked him up and down with appreciation. He was in a black suit with a emerald green tie. She thought it was cute how he looked nervous.

"Would," Bryan had to clear his throat, "would you care to dance?"

Amanda smiled up at him, "I would love to," she said as she took his hand.

Bryan pulled her close and fell into an easy circling pattern as a slow song came over the speakers. He noted that she smelled of lilacs.

They danced in silence, but Amanda didn't mind the silence. It was nice not to have the pressure of finding a topic of conversation, to just enjoy dancing and being close to someone.

The song was over before Bryan worked up the nerve to say what he had to tell her.

"Thank you for the dance," Amanda said as she smiled at him. AS she turned to walk back towards the music Bryan reached out and took her hand.

Amanda looked down at his hand wrapped around hers and back up at him, a question clearly expressed in her eyes.

"Can I talk to you?" Bryan asked quietly.

"Okay." Amanda said.

Bryan guided her through the crowds of people to the edge of the room where it was quieter. "Now that you can hear me," Bryan said with a half smile, "I have something I need to tell you."

"What is it?" Amanda asked, her brow furrowing prettily in confusion.

Bryan drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I'm not Mark," he said quietly, "I'm Bryan."

Amanda frowned a little, "I thought you were Mark. Then Mark didn't come?" she asked, "He said he wasn't planning on it, but I thought when I saw you that he had decided to come after all," she finished.

Bryan blinked slowly, "No, Amanda. Mark is at home. I'm Bryan."

"Yes, you said that. Is Mark not feeling well? Did he send you to keep me company?" Amanda asked.

Bryan reached out and touched a tendril of hair, "Amanda, you never knew Mark," Bryan said. He watched as the information sunk in.

"You're not Mark," she said as she took a step back.

"Look, I can explain," Bryan pleaded.

"Then please do so," Amanda said as she crossed her arms over her chest.

Bryan took a breath and related the whole story. All the times that he and his twin had switched places. The mix up with Jason, and how as time went on he felt more and more like he couldn't tell her, that she would think that he had been purposely lying to her.

Amanda took in the whole story, listened intently to all he had to say. "So you are Bryan," she said at last.

Bryan nodded, "yes. I'm Bryan." He waited anxiously for her next words, watched as she thought through everything, saw in her eyes as she reached the end of her musings.

"So you can do more than 'dance a little.'" she said as her mouth twitched up into a grin.

Bryan let out a breath of air he didn't know he was holding and smiled widely, "Yeah. I can do more than 'dance a little'," he echoed as he pulled her onto the dance floor.

Tell Her The Truth

"What's been eating you lately?" Mark asked as he flopped down next to his brother on the bed.

"Do you know Amanda?" Bryan asked.

"Which one? There are quite a few Amandas at school," Mark said rolling his eyes. He was sure it was just another of his brothers crushes. It would go away in about two weeks.

"Amanda Hollingworth."

"Oh." Mark was taken aback a little. Amanda Hollingworth was not Bryan's typical girl. Mark reviewed in his mind what he knew of her. Pretty, studious, a little on the quiet side but very nice.

"I don't know her well," Mark said at last, "mostly in passing. What makes you mention her?"

"Because she thinks I'm you," Bryan said as he sat up.

Mark puzzled over this for a moment, "why would she think that you are me? Not that people don't get us confused all the time, but how did you two meet and why would she think you're me?"

"Remember that Dance Committee that you were supposed to be on?"

"Yeah. I vaguely remember that. What has that got to do with it?"

"Well Jason grabbed me one day after school thinking I was you and dragged me off to the meeting. I wasn't really paying attention and I ended up on the music committee with Amanda. She thinks I'm you."

"I don't see how this is a problem. Just tell her that you're Bryan. I don't know her all that well anyway."

"What if she thinks I've been lying to her on purpose, having a laugh at her expense."

"And what if she doesn't?" Mark asked, "what if she realizes that it was a mistake and let's it go."

"Then how would you account for me not telling her before that I was really Bryan?"

Mark was silent for a moment. After a few seconds of thought he said, "look, do you like her?"

Bryan gave him his 'are you that dim' look.

"Then tell her the truth," Mark said. "You can't build any sort of relationship without trust. You have to trust that she will see the situation for what it is, and she will have to trust that you had no intention of deceiving her."

"You're right," Bryan said as he jumped off the bed and walked out of the room.

"Of course I'm right," Mark said to the empty room.

Not When it Matters

"So are you going to the dance with anyone?" Amanda asked as Bryan stood to go an hour later. She bit her lip a little nervously as she walked with him down the hall towards the front door.

"Bryan glanced at her quickly, trying to gauge how he should answer. "I hadn't really planned on it," he said. This much was true. He hadn't really planned on going with anyone.

"I'm sorry you won't be there," she said as she opened the door.

"Look Amanda..." Bryan said as he turned to look at her as he stepped out the front door.

"Hm?"

Bryan sighed, "Nothing. I'll see you tomorrow at school."

"Good night Mark," Amanda said to his retreating figure.

************************

Bryan sighed as he closed the front door of his own home and leaned against it.

"What's with you?" Mark asked as he paused in the entry, a sandwich in one hand.

"Sometimes I wish I was you," Bryan said quietly as he bumped his head against the door in frustration.

Mark looked at his brother funny, "You practically are me sometimes," he said.

"Not when it matters," Bryan said as he stepped away from the door.

A Little

Bryan paused before answering her question. She thought he was Mark, and Mark was known for one personality, while he himself was known for having one completely different. Did she know Mark? Know how Mark would respond? Did she prefer his quiet spoken brother or would she like his own more open demeanor? Would she even know the difference? He wanted to tell her that he was actually Bryan, but didn't know if she would think that he had been deceiving her on purpose instead of it just being a mistake.

Bryan bit his lip as he continued to hesitate, trying to gauge how he should reply.

Amanda cocked her head to one side as she waited for Mark's answer. He seemed a little lost in thought, so she let him think.

She had heard that his brother danced, and was very good, but she didn't know if Mark also danced. She didn't know what to think of the twins as a unit. Not much was generally known about them.

"Mark?" she said as she touched him gently on the shoulder.

Bryan blinked and focused on Amanda's face, "I dance a little," he said at last.

Do you Dance

Bryan sat on the floor; his knees pulled up to his chest, and his back pressed into a comfortable looking bed, eyes closed as he let the music swirl around him. It had a good driving beat, something that you could dance to.

"Are we just going to make CD mixes and switch out CDs or are we going to take requests?" a soft voice said from above him.

"I think it would be fun to take requests," Bryan said as he opened his eyes and craned his head around to see the girl that was lying on the bed above him. They had met at Amanda's house a few times since the committee meeting to listen to music and try to settle on what should be played at the dance.

"Well at any rate, we should have slow songs that everyone can dance to, but also songs that encourage people to have a little fun," Amanda said as she sat up. She looked over at Bryan, "Do you dance Mark?"

Ideas and Plans

This is all your fault," Aurelius said cheerfully. He, Ambrosius, and Niamh - who, by this stage of her page training, served both of them - were huddled beneath a dense cluster of shrubs watching King Lars' men march past.

"I distinctly remember that this was your idea," Ambrosius said. "I was content studying barrier spells in the library."

"I meant Niall," Aurelius said. He ruffled Niamh's hair. "It's always the subordinate's fault."

"Yes, My Lord," Niamh said patiently. Ambrosius met her gaze, and they both rolled their eyes.

"What's the plan, O Genius Warrior?" Ambrosius asked.

"Why would I have the plan?" Aurelius asked innocently. "I'm just the muscle, O Future King. Shouldn't His Highness have a plan?"

Niamh said, "Ambrosius, you should start a fire on the far side to distract them. Aurelius can sneak around and cut off their rear and I...will shoot them. With arrows."

"Why does the page have a plan?" Aurelius asked.

"Because he's looking to make squire." Ambrosius handed Niamh his quiver. "Take my arrows."

"We need a back-up plan, of course," Niamh said reasonably. "In case one or both of you are captured and held for ransom."

Aurelius had gone to draw his sword; he paused. "Do you have to think of everything?"

"You're the king's sons. I must be prepared." Niamh shoved Ambrosius's arrows into her quiver.

"He's right," Ambrosius said. "If we get taken by King Lars, Father will -"

"Start a war," Aurelius said brightly.

"If I get taken, on the other hand," Niamh said, "you two can get home free." She started to slither forward on her stomach, ready to make a one-man rally against King Lars's troops.

Ambrosius caught her arm. "Are you mad?"

"It's the best plan we've got." Niamh looked up at him. "Have you seen how many men there are?"

"That doesn't matter," Ambrosius said.

Aurelius shook his head. "Niall's right. You're heir to the throne. You have to get home."

"Just me?" Ambrosius asked. "But we're both princes --"

"I'm the second son," Aurelius said. "I'll protect Niall. You go."

"But the plan --"

"Set the fire and go."

Ambrosius pressed his lips into a thin line. "No, Aurelius, I'm not leaving you -"

"Go," Aurelius said. He tugged on Niall's elbow. "Come on. We have to protect the prince."

Niall looked at Ambrosius. "Good luck, My Lord."

"Niall --" Ambrosius began.

She fired an arrow.

For The Day

Niamh came awake sharply, hand going for Niall's sword. She rolled to
her feet and swung the sword up, ready to guard.

Aurelius leaned in the doorway, smirking. "You're jumpy, aren't
you?"

"My Lord," Niamh stammered.

"I heard you had an interesting night at the pages' feast," Aurelius
said.

Interesting was one word for it. Niamh thought a better choice was
'embarrassing', given that she'd almost given herself away as a girl
and been mocked as a coward by the rest of the pages.

"Don't worry - I'm not one of the pages here to play a hideous prank on you," Aurelius said. "I've just come to inform you that, as Ambrosius is busy doing heir-to-the-throne things and I've scared away my own page, you shall be my page for the day. Get dressed and come help me with my armor. I'm training with the master-at-arms."

Niamh bowed. "Yes, My Lord."

Aurelius crossed the room and caught her by the chin, tilted her head up, and she felt her pulse jump. He was ridiculously handsome.

"You've an uncommonly pretty face, for a lad. Be careful - it might get you into more trouble than you're already in."

Niamh swallowed hard.

Aurelius stepped back. "The knights' courtyard. Fifteen minutes."

Fifteen minutes later, Niamh skittered into the courtyard dressed in leggings and a tabard marking her as Ambrosius's page. Aurelius stood on the sidelines next to a rack of weapons, fiddling with the buckles
of his gauntlet.

"Allow me, My Lord," Niamh said, hurrying to his side.

He looked up and smirked. "A page who's prompt. Giving your superiors high expectations already, are you?"

Niamh blinked. "Are you suggesting I should be slovenly in my duties?"

"Not at all." Aurelius let his hand fall to his side and watched her work.

Niamh had always been quick with armor, because Niall fussed if it took too long to prepare for the mock-bouts he had with Declan.

The master-at-arms, a grizzled veteran of a knight who was missing an eye, stepped into the courtyard fully armed.

"Good luck, My Lord," Niamh said, and handed Aurelius a sword.

"I don't need luck," he said, "but thanks anyway."

Niamh arched an eyebrow. "Shall I tear a strip off my tabard so you can wear a favor?"

Aurelius threw his head back and laughed. Then he leapt into the fight.

To You

“Aurelius,” Ambrosius said mildly, though he blushed, “no need to be so fierce with the pages. It wasn’t so long ago we were pages ourselves, aye?”

The blond boy was Prince Aurelius. Of course. Prince Ambrosius’ younger twin brother, the legendarily brilliant warrior despite being only a squire; Prince Ambrosius was known more for his skills in diplomacy and magic. As if sensing Niamh’s thoughts, Ambrosius tugged on the collar of his squire tabard, obviously uncomfortable.

But he smiled at Niamh, and she felt something in her chest lurch. “Don’t mind him - his bark is worse than his bite. It’s true, though, the master-at-arms forgot to assign me a page. If you’ll follow me, you’ll be staying adjacent to my chambers during your training.”

Niamh swallowed hard and almost tripped over Niall’s big feet as she followed Ambrosius away from the pages’ hall.

“So, Niall, do you come from a large family?”

Ambrosius smiled over his shoulder at her, and she was struck by how lovely his blue eyes were. Her voice lodged in her throat.

“No need to be afraid - I am the prince, but I’m also just a boy. Speak up.”

“My mother died when I was a child,” Niamh said, “and I have one sibling. A twin br- sister. She is training in the magical arts.”

Ambrosius’ smile brightened, and Niamh felt her palms begin to sweat.

“Then you understand some of what I put up with when it comes to Aurelius. Are you elder or younger?”

“Younger,” Niamh said, which was true - she was younger, but Niall was older. It wasn’t as if Ambrosius would ever find out.

“When we’re twins, it doesn’t make much of a difference, I suppose,” Ambrosius said. “Besides, you and I are more similar than you and Aurelius - after all, we’re both the ones who will inherit.” He pushed open a door down a side hallway to reveal a small stone chamber with a more comfortable-looking bed than Niamh had ever known. A wooden chest for belongings and a wash basin stood off to the side.

“Is this...my room?”

“Yes.” Ambrosius pointed to a door in the far wall. “My chamber is through there, should I need you in the night. Honestly, I can dress myself, but sometimes I’ll need help with my armour.”

“Of course, My Lord,” Niamh stammered.

“None of that - to you, I’m Ambrosius.”

Sub-Committee

Bryan sat in the uncomfortable desk in the spare room that the committee had appropriated for the afternoon. The room was dim and Bryan rubbed his nose to keep from sneezing on the chalk dust.

Gathered in the room was an assortment of students; some clearly not sure why they were there, but merely accompanying friends, others with pads of paper for taking notes and others that seemed to just be staring off into space.

Bryan shifted to a slightly more comfortable position as one of the girls cleared her throat for attention; Amanda, Bryan thought her name was. He looked up at her as she began to detail various sub-committees; those in charge of music, decorating, and advertising. Bryan let his mind wander as she spoke on and on.

"Mark, what would you like to help with?"

Bryan was pulled out of his wool gathering abruptly at the sound of his brothers name.

"What was that?" Bryan asked as he raised his head from where it was resting on his fist.

"I said, what you you like to help with?"

"Uhh..." Bryan stalled, "I don't know, anything I guess."

"Okay, then you'll help me with the music," Amanda smiled brightly at him.

Bryan noticed for the first time that she had pretty green eyes. "Okay," he said and smiled at her.

Exactly What We Did

Niamh was still mightily disturbed at having woken up in her brother’s body, and she was a touch miffed at losing all the conditioning she’d done in her own body, but once they reached the palace courtyard where the knights trained and she saw a handful of them gathered in a circle and sparring, swords flashing, she was excited.

She suspected she’d put a lot more thought into being a boy than Niall had into being a girl.

”Fare thee well, brother,” Niall said from atop the mare, voice airy and faint. He even fluttered the handkerchief Niamh had been forced to embroider. “Bring our family honor.”

Niamh could only stare; she never spoke like that. “You too. If the other girls give you trouble, don’t be afraid to give them trouble right back,” she managed finally.

Declan stared at the two of them, puzzled. Drat. Had they given the game away already? “Did you two switch personalities in the night or something?”

“That’s exactly what we did,” Niamh said, deadpan. “Anyway, I’d best be off to my fate. Keep her safe, Declan.” And Niamh, with the best boyish swagger she could muster, headed toward the hall of pages.

She found the way easily enough - other boys her age were heading toward a pair of double wooden doors that led to a long, low stone building that ran perpendicular to the knights’ hall.

Several older lads, likely squires as they were wearing tabards in their masters’ colors, directed the other boys in the right place. Niamh came up short when a tall, broad-shouldered, and frighteningly handsome blond boy stepped into her path.

“What house are you from, mite?” he asked.

Of course he was a prat. The handsome ones always were. Niamh decided that she disliked him. “The House of O’Scannlain,” she said.

The blond boy called over his shoulder, “You have an O’Scannlain on the list?”

Another squire - taller, dark-haired, thin - consulted a parchment scroll. “Yes - Niall.”

“Who’s he been assigned to?”

“No one.”

The blond boy grinned and clapped Niall on the shoulder. “Excellent. You can be Ambrosius’s page.”

Niall bobbed her head politely. “Yes, sir. And Ambrosius would be?”

The blond boy’s grin turned mean. “That would be Prince Ambrosius, and he would be standing over there.”

Niall felt her heart plummet into her shoes. Prince Ambrosius was...holding the scroll.

Niamh and Niall

When Niamh had suggested switching places with Niall so he could go to mage school and she could go to knight training instead of finishing school, she’d thought there would be a haircut, some awkward and painful chest binding, and promises to keep each other’s secrets.


She hadn’t planned on waking up in Niall’s body to find Niall standing over her in her body, holding a grimoire and looking disturbingly self-satisfied.

“So...just answer my name and I’ll answer to yours,” he - she - said.

Niamh might have quibbled about that more if she hadn’t suddenly had to answer the call of nature and ducked out of the cave, into the bushes. Where she had a quiet panic attack, did her business, and then strode back into the cave in time to find Declan, the man-at-arms sent to escort them to the capital, packing up their gear.

“You took your royal time, Master Niall,” Declan said. “Come along, help your sister onto the horse. We’ve got to make the capital before sundown.”

Niall smirked when Niamh struggled to help him onto the horse, but she got the satisfaction of wearing the sword that Niall despised.

The Capital rose against the horizon in the distance, the palace towers gleaming in the early morning light. Somewhere, amidst those bright white towers, the King’s Knights trained. Niamh had seen the King’s Knights once before, when she was a child, and she’d been enchanted by their shining armor, their seeming endless strength as their sparred in a tourney held in the neighboring baronet, and she’d decided then and there that she wanted to be one of them.

If only she could get used to her brother’s gangly, clumsy body. She wasn’t sure that Niall even needed to go to mage school if he could do something like this just by reading out of a book, but...she had been afforded a unique chance. And she was going to take it. When they stopped for lunch, she practiced drills with the swords, ones she’d bribed Declan into teaching her while Niall helped Declan prepare the food.

She almost tripped and fell on her face, but once she became accustomed to Niall’s body’s balance, it’d be worth it.

“Master Niall, it’s so good to see you taking an interest in a man’s work,” Declan said.

Master Niall. Maybe Niamh could get used to that.

No Excuses

"Hey Mark!"

Bryan's head came up at the sound of his twins name. Nobody ever got them straight all the time, even their own family could get it wrong; and it probably didn't help that both of them would answer to the others name as readily as their own. It had been a game when they were younger; now it was habit.

Josh jogged up to Bryan a little out of breath, "Hey, we have a meeting. Did you forget?"

Bryan put on a vapid look, "I guess I did. What was the meeting about again?" he asked. He knew that he could imitate his brother almost perfectly, and did so now out of twisted curiosity to see how long it would take Josh to catch on that he wasn't Mark.

"Hello? How can you forget prom planning?" Josh asked as he pulled Bryan to his feet, "let's go, we'll be late as it is."

Bryan felt a rush of horror as he remembered that his brother had volunteered to help plan the prom.

"Uh..." Bryan stammered out, "I know you had your heart set on me coming, but I just remembered that I have some important homework that is due tomorrow that I had forgotten to do; so I should really go do that," Bryan said as he tried to sidle away from Josh.

"Oh no you don't," Josh said firmly as he latched onto Bryan's arm, "you talked me into this and now you are going to come with me. No excuses."

Bryan didn't have a chance top protest or explain before he was being dragged off to a planning committee.

Project #69: Plot Kink

What's your favorite plot kink - cross-dressing Shakespeare style, time travel, mistaken identities, haters destined to love each other, body-switching? Make it happen this week, in 100-400 words. Does she have to cross-dress as a page to save her life and fall in love with the knight she serves? Does he have to save her life and then travel back through time to before he ever knew her and watch her love someone else? Was she set up on a blind date and talks to someone other than the man she was set up with, only to find out the man she picked is perfect for her anyway? Pick one and make it arc for six days, and see how well that goes for you. We all love our favorite plot kinks, and we might as well enjoy them for a week. Happy writing, and welcome back to our regularly scheduled show.

Variation on a Theme

Chantelle noticed something was wrong as soon as she came to full consciousness - her bokken wasn’t next to her bed where it usually was. Maybe it had rolled under her bed, but...she wasn’t in her bed, either. In fact, the fact that she was even in a bed was wrong, because she always slept atop the covers underneath a mountain of blankets.

Then she looked down at herself.

And shrieked.

She was shirtless.


And tall.


With hairy feet.

She was a man.

She staggered out of the strange bed and across what was obviously a hotel room and into the bathroom, ready to have a good, long scream at her reflection. But once she got the bathroom light on and saw just what she looked like, she paused.

She was kinda hot.

Or rather, he was.

Then she fainted.

(140 words)

A Night for Dancing

The level of light didn't change when Rose stepped from the twilit street into the Book of Dead Names. A quick glance around revealed a short hallway lined with coats, hats and shawls. Rose nervously slipped her own light jacket off and hung it up on a peg,the emerald green playing against a white fur coat that hung on the next peg over.

Rose moved down the dim hall towards the soft golden glow of the room beyond. As she stepped into the room Rose drew in a breath in wonder at what she saw. A magnificent chandelier spilled warm light over the large room, the very outer edges of the light just stopping short of private tables and nooks that were separated with heavy velvet drapes, tied back to reveal beautiful tables. The tables were filled with people talking quietly in twos and threes or playing a variety of games; each table was softly lit with a small candelabra that hung from a nearby pillar. The sections of wall that was not taken up with rich velvet were lined with books, many of them worn and valuable. Along one wall ran a short bar which ended in a small recessed area that was occupied by a four piece band. The music that filled the room was slow and had a slightly jazzy edge to it. The middle of the room was taken up by a dance floor, the wood shining beautifully in the candle light.

After a slight hesitation Rose moved along the perimeter of the room towards the bar where she slid into a seat with relief. A moment later one of the three men that staffed the bar approached, "What can I get for you Miss?" he asked.

"Just some water for the moment please," Rose said, trying to keep her tone level.

The man nodded politely and moved away, returning a moment later with her water.

Rose gratefully accepted the water and sipped at it as she turned to look at the room; she was sure that this was the place, he had described it so well that even had she had never come here she was sure that she could have pictured it in her mind. Rose set her glass down and smoothed the skirt of her green dress, her eyes continuing to watch the room. A nearby grandfather clock struck nine o'clock, its deep resonant tones carrying through the room. As it finished chiming the hour Rose felt a warm hand on her shoulder. Rose smiled and turned to the man behind her.

Warm pale green eyes looked out of a handsome face, the barest hint of red stubble shadowed a strong jaw and a soft smiling mouth. Rose quickly looked him up and down, revealing a well cut suit that hung perfectly from his slender frame.

"Hi," he whispered, his mouth quirking into a half smile that sent shivers down Rose's back.

"Hi," she whispered back, leaning into his touch as he traced her jaw.

"I wasn't sure you would come," James said; he couldn't stop looking at her.

Rose didn't want to tell him just yet that she would always come when he called her.

"Will you dance with me?" James asked as he took her hand.

"Of course," Rose said and let him lead her to the dance floor.

A familiar song floated across the room as James pulled her into his arms and flowed smoothly into the waltz; Rose following his every movement, though her eyes never left his face. They had the whole floor to themselves and they took advantage of it, moving gracefully around the floor in time to the music.

As the song ended another filled the room after a brief silence. James pulled Rose closer to him, one hand holding hers against his chest as his other hand softly stroking her hair.

Rose sighed in content as she let her eyes fall closed and her head rest on his shoulder as they swayed slowly. She breathed in his scent; letting him fill all her senses; his quiet heartbeat that she could feel in his chest, his warm body close to hers.

"Rose?"

Rose could feel his voice in his chest, "Hm?"

"Rose, Will you marry me?" James asked as they drifted to a stop with the end of the song.

Rose's heart skipped a beat and she raised her head to look into his eyes, wanting to know for sure that he meant it. Rose kissed him softly, "yes she whispered."