more art, and steampunk story part 2!
(click for full-size!)
eeee, omg. dun (who has some gorgeous new Kris chibis up btw!) sent me this ridiculously adorable illustration for Sex Machine (which is safe for work, haha, although the story is so not):
and more fabulous steampunk, from hai_world!
hai_world: "Kris as the dashing hero, Adam as the handsome prince, and Danny as the dastardly villain." ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥
(SOMEONE WRITE ME THIS NOW PLEASE ♥____♥)
plus another amazing one of Adam:
steampunk challenge!
And to go with it, here is another installment of the steampunk story, continued from part 1:
"Oh, is that why Lord Cowell brought you," the king said.
"Uh-" Kris said, warily. "Yes?"
The king's smile was wry and twisting in a way Kris didn't understand, although he could read loud and clear that there was a lot going on here he was missing. Which was about how he'd felt since he'd gotten to court. Why wasn't he back home shooting demons again?
"You can tell me all about it after dinner," the king said, and flicked a glance over at Miles, who went instantly stiff, his head bowed. "Tell Lord Cowell I'll see you in my quarters. I'm sure he can arrange to get you there."
And then he was turning away, swirl of the black velvet cloak behind him, a glimpse of blue lining, like something out of a story; Kris stared after him, then noticed he had his hand up on his own face, touching the place where the king had gripped him. He dropped his hand hurriedly. "What was that all about?" he said to Miles. "Why wasn't I supposed to tell him?"
"You can't just start pleading a case to the king in the middle of the hall.-Lord Cowell will explain," Miles said evasively.
Alright, whatever. It wasn't like Kris had been guaranteed another shot-Lord Cowell had been all on about how he wasn't promising anything but to present him, and if it wasn't okay to start talking to the king about border attacks in a hallway, it was probably less okay to start in the middle of the court with twenty people lined up to be presented behind him. Anyway, the king hadn't seemed pissed-off.
"That was sheer good luck," Lord Cowell said, irritable: Miles had dragged Kris back into the great hall through a back door, shoved him in a corner, and gotten Lord Cowell. "If you had caught him in a different mood, you might easily have been thrown out of court. I suggest that you keep in mind that having sponsored you here, I am responsible for your conduct. If you have any sense of obligation-" his tone suggested that what he really meant was a sense of self-preservation, "-you will follow my advice."
"Well, at this point he said he wants to see me," Kris said. "I'm guessing that's not something to skip, so-"
"Hardly," Cowell said. "That doesn't mean it's an invitation to immediately start blabbing at him, either. You do recall that Lord Fuller is your neighbor's patron? If you begin hurling around accusations without proof, you will very quickly discover what a squire's son is worth at court."
Kris felt like pointing out that his word was good enough proof last time he'd checked the law, but he shut his mouth on it. It didn't work that way, and he knew it, but-damn, he wished Daniel were here. Kris didn't get why Cowell had insisted on him, anyway; anyone five minutes into a dinner conversation at their place knew which one of them had the flash and charm down, and it wasn't him. They'd been grateful enough for the chance to send anyone, though, and Cowell hadn't had to do anything.
"I get it," he said instead. "But-if he asks-"
"Try and show a little restraint," Cowell said. "Having the king's ear is a rare opportunity. You'll find it more to your advantage if you leave him willing to hear you out in future than if you simply chatter at him until you bring him to the point of boredom."
Demons killing people didn't seem all that boring to Kris, but Cowell was already saying, "Miles, you had better take him back to the suite and do what you can-" like this froofy doublet wasn't enough. Kris swallowed a sigh. "And Kristopher," Cowell added sharply, "keep in mind this is your sovereign, and not to be trifled with."
"No trifling, got it," Kris said, and let Miles drag him off for another hour of fussing over. "No-no, come on, man, I'm just going to look stupid-" Kris said, leaning away from the kohl pencil. "I don't-this isn't me. If he cares that much what I'm wearing, I'm screwed anyway."
Miles paused, the pencil held up, and then he put it down and said, "Well, you may have a point."
"Thank you," Kris said. "Can I ditch the ruff?"
"Not that much of a point," Miles said dryly.
Kris jerked the doublet straight outside the door, while the guard put his head in and said something low, before letting him in; the second man on the door was eyeing him up and down, kind of smirking. "That bad, huh?" Kris said to him; the guard blinked and then went wooden and said, "Sorry, m'lord?"
"I'm not a-" Kris started saying, but the other guard was turning back and saying, "His Majesty will see you now."
The king was sprawled sleepy-eyed in a low, heavy armchair by the fireplace, long legs stretched out, hard-muscled and lean, a goblet dangling from his fingers. There was music playing on the gleaming radiophone over the mantel, incredibly crisp; Kris hadn't ever heard one that good. "You're a Buckley fan? He's amazing," Kris said, before he remembered he wasn't supposed to speak first. "Uh, sorry."
"He is amazing," the king said, and waved Kris to the chair next to him.
Kris sat a little gingerly, but it was hard not to sprawl-the chair was deep and soft. He jumped as a mechanical arm swung out from the wall and picked up the bottle of wine and filled another goblet sitting on the table by his elbow. "Doesn't that-creep you out at all?" he said.
"You'd be surprised how easy it is to get used to," the king said. "You were telling me why Simon brought you to court."
Kris hesitated, because-he didn't get how he was supposed to be restrained here, or whatever. The king was asking him a question, and there was an answer, and yeah, it involved trashing Baron Trugman, but the hell, the guy had earned it. "I don't want-" Kris said, and stopped and tried again. "I just need to say, I'm not looking to make trouble, or be a jerk about this," he said. "We didn't want a fight in the first place."
"Well, this sounds exciting," the king said, drinking from his goblet.
Kris said, "We just-need help, because if things keep going like this-"
The king held up a hand. "Why don't you back up just a little."
"Right," Kris said. "Sorry, I know I suck at this. My brother's the smooth talker."
The king laughed and tilted his head backwards. "I don't know, it's refreshing." His smile was a little sly, almost teasing, and Kris kind of wanted to grin back at him, share the joke, except he wasn't sure if that was okay. Were you allowed to joke around with the king? It was weird, sitting here thinking that's the king-not that he didn't look the part, he did, but he was still a person, a guy, and this was a fancy room but not all that much fancier than the one they'd given Kris in Lord Cowell's suite. It made it hard to remember Kris was supposed to be staying deferential all the time.
"I'm better at the fighting part?" he offered tentatively.
"Oh, are you?" the king said, and looked him up and down, his mouth twitching, and Kris let himself smile back the way he wanted to; or more accurately, he didn't stop himself doing it in time.
"Yeah, sorry you're getting shortchanged," Kris said. "I think Lord Cowell just wanted me to come because I'm the heir."
"Simon Cowell is a very smart man," the king said. "Possibly just a little too smart for his own good." He waved a hand. "So what's the issue?"
"Well," Kris said, and took a deep breath and just went for it, "Baron Trugman wants us to give him a valley out of my father's estate. He tried to buy it last winter for pretty much nothing, and since we said no, he's been sending men over the border to raid-"
"Why do I know his name?" the king said, interrupting.
Kris swallowed. "He's-Lord Fuller's vassal."
"Mm," the king said. "And your father is Lord Cowell's?"
"Huh? No," Kris said. "We're not-my father's just a squire. But my mom went to school with a girl who's one of Lady Abdul's ladies in waiting, and Lord Cowell was passing through on his way to Edinburgh, so-he stopped with us to change his horses and have dinner, and then-"
"- he brought you along to tell me the tale of woe," the king said.
"There you go," Kris said, spreading his hands. "I get that Lord Fuller's important," he added. "I don't mean this as anything against him, probably he doesn't even know. We're pretty small. But I think Baron Trugman figures he can get away with this stuff because he's got a big patron, and when we tried to go to court, they wouldn't hear the case."
The king didn't say anything right away, just sipping from his goblet and looking into the fire, so after a pause Kris added, "We lost twenty sheep in the last raid, and-I guess that sounds pretty small, but it's not small to us, that's people going hungry in the winter. And one of the demons was done and heading for a farmhouse. This keeps going, it's only a matter of time before they grab a kid."
The king abruptly put down his glass and looked over at him, eyes sharp and glittering. "Demons? What's wrong with your wardstones?"
"They're knocking them over," Kris said.
"The raiders," the king said. "You're saying the raiders are coming onto your property, knocking down the wardstones, and letting the demons in?"
"Yeah," Kris said. "Last time they broke one, and six demons showed up at the same time."
"Oh, fuck that," the king said, and raised his voice. "Guard!" The door swung open, and the guards looked inside. "Go get Lord Cowell and Lord Fuller," the king said. "They can have five minutes to dress, then they get over here."
They both showed up in more like three minutes, a little out of breath and wary; Cowell shot Kris a hard look. "Okay," the king said. "Lord Fuller, one of your vassals seems to have gotten the idea that the little part in his oath of fealty about protecting the borders of the kingdom is, I don't know, flexible? Or maybe he's just a little slow and hasn't realized that fucking with the wardstones anywhere in the kingdom weakens the borders everywhere else."
"Sire," Lord Fuller said, "I gather this is about Baron Trugman? I assure you that you have no more loyal servant. Perhaps there's been some misunderstanding. Or I imagine someone might for their own motives be interested in giving you a false representation of the situation-"
Kris straightened up in his chair-was Fuller actually calling him a liar?
"Simon?" the king said, breaking in. "Nice try. Not that I'm not as ridiculously cynical as the next person, but not this time. Tell Baron Trugman to knock it off, and that I'll be expecting him at court next month to renew his oath directly to the throne. And as a service to the crown, I'd like you personally to see to the complete replacement of the damaged wardstones on the Allen lands. Oh, and the sheep! Let's replace the sheep, too."
Lord Fuller pressed his mouth shut and bowed a little from the waist. "I am honored to serve, Sire."
"Wonderful," the king said. "And Lord Cowell, the next time you hear about wardstones getting smashed, I want to hear about it from you right away, not third-hand a week later while you figure out how to get an advantage out of it. We've had almost twice the demon attacks these last five years as the five before that, and fucking around with this is so not okay. Am I being clear about this?"
"Perfectly," Lord Cowell said dryly.
"Even more wonderful," the king said. "That's all, my lords."
Lord Cowell flicked a glance at Kris as he left the room, maybe annoyed; it was hard to read. Kris stared after him, feeling a little dazed. That had all happened a lot quicker than he had expected. "Uh, thank you?" he said, looking at the king.
The king had slouched back in his chair with his wine again, and he raised an eyebrow. "Don't overwhelm me with gratitude or anything."
"No! I am-I mean, I really am grateful, I just got the impression that it wasn't going to happen that fast," Kris said.
"Mm," the king said. "Let me guess-Simon had you dressed up and sent to my chamber, told you to be good company, and reminded you I'm your sovereign and not to be refused?"
"Something like that," Kris said, baffled, and then he said, "Oh, you're fucking kidding me."
The king started laughing, warm and genuine, a burst of it. Kris rubbed his face, feeling his cheeks get hot. "That was so not my idea," Kris said. "I'm really not kidding."
"Oh, I believe you," the king said, grinning.
"Would you believe I'm also not a complete dumbass?" Kris said. "Because I'm having a hard time with that one."
"A little naïve maybe," the king said. "The court's obviously a little unfamiliar territory. But it works for you. It's kind of adorable."
"Yeah, me and the freaking unicorns," Kris said. He picked up his wine and drank it off, mainly to have something to do with his face instead of just sit there blushing, and put it down. "So-I guess I should-?" he stopped, because right, he was supposed to wait to be dismissed.
The king smiled and stood up, and Kris got up with him, relieved. He figured he could probably even head home tomorrow-and never in a million years mention to his family that Lord Cowell had been, what, trying to pimp him out, Jesus. "Seriously, thank you," he said. "Your Majesty. And, uh. I'm sorry about the uh. The plan. Whatever."
"I'm not," the king said.
"What?" Kris said.
The king stepped in closer, and Kris stared up at him, feeling a little weird and dizzy. Maybe the wine hadn't been the most awesome idea after all. "Kristopher?" the king said.
"Yeah?" Kris said. His eyes really were-amazing. And his mouth was kind of-
"In case no one mentioned it," the king said, "I'm your sovereign. And I'm not to be refused."
"Oh?" Kris said, a little vaguely, because look, it was distracting, and then the king had cupped Kris's face in his hands and was leaning in, and Kris said, "Oh-" and then he was being kissed, sweet and deep and hard.
MORE TO COME :D :D :D :D
eeee, omg. dun (who has some gorgeous new Kris chibis up btw!) sent me this ridiculously adorable illustration for Sex Machine (which is safe for work, haha, although the story is so not):
and more fabulous steampunk, from hai_world!
hai_world: "Kris as the dashing hero, Adam as the handsome prince, and Danny as the dastardly villain." ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥
(SOMEONE WRITE ME THIS NOW PLEASE ♥____♥)
plus another amazing one of Adam:
steampunk challenge!
And to go with it, here is another installment of the steampunk story, continued from part 1:
"Oh, is that why Lord Cowell brought you," the king said.
"Uh-" Kris said, warily. "Yes?"
The king's smile was wry and twisting in a way Kris didn't understand, although he could read loud and clear that there was a lot going on here he was missing. Which was about how he'd felt since he'd gotten to court. Why wasn't he back home shooting demons again?
"You can tell me all about it after dinner," the king said, and flicked a glance over at Miles, who went instantly stiff, his head bowed. "Tell Lord Cowell I'll see you in my quarters. I'm sure he can arrange to get you there."
And then he was turning away, swirl of the black velvet cloak behind him, a glimpse of blue lining, like something out of a story; Kris stared after him, then noticed he had his hand up on his own face, touching the place where the king had gripped him. He dropped his hand hurriedly. "What was that all about?" he said to Miles. "Why wasn't I supposed to tell him?"
"You can't just start pleading a case to the king in the middle of the hall.-Lord Cowell will explain," Miles said evasively.
Alright, whatever. It wasn't like Kris had been guaranteed another shot-Lord Cowell had been all on about how he wasn't promising anything but to present him, and if it wasn't okay to start talking to the king about border attacks in a hallway, it was probably less okay to start in the middle of the court with twenty people lined up to be presented behind him. Anyway, the king hadn't seemed pissed-off.
"That was sheer good luck," Lord Cowell said, irritable: Miles had dragged Kris back into the great hall through a back door, shoved him in a corner, and gotten Lord Cowell. "If you had caught him in a different mood, you might easily have been thrown out of court. I suggest that you keep in mind that having sponsored you here, I am responsible for your conduct. If you have any sense of obligation-" his tone suggested that what he really meant was a sense of self-preservation, "-you will follow my advice."
"Well, at this point he said he wants to see me," Kris said. "I'm guessing that's not something to skip, so-"
"Hardly," Cowell said. "That doesn't mean it's an invitation to immediately start blabbing at him, either. You do recall that Lord Fuller is your neighbor's patron? If you begin hurling around accusations without proof, you will very quickly discover what a squire's son is worth at court."
Kris felt like pointing out that his word was good enough proof last time he'd checked the law, but he shut his mouth on it. It didn't work that way, and he knew it, but-damn, he wished Daniel were here. Kris didn't get why Cowell had insisted on him, anyway; anyone five minutes into a dinner conversation at their place knew which one of them had the flash and charm down, and it wasn't him. They'd been grateful enough for the chance to send anyone, though, and Cowell hadn't had to do anything.
"I get it," he said instead. "But-if he asks-"
"Try and show a little restraint," Cowell said. "Having the king's ear is a rare opportunity. You'll find it more to your advantage if you leave him willing to hear you out in future than if you simply chatter at him until you bring him to the point of boredom."
Demons killing people didn't seem all that boring to Kris, but Cowell was already saying, "Miles, you had better take him back to the suite and do what you can-" like this froofy doublet wasn't enough. Kris swallowed a sigh. "And Kristopher," Cowell added sharply, "keep in mind this is your sovereign, and not to be trifled with."
"No trifling, got it," Kris said, and let Miles drag him off for another hour of fussing over. "No-no, come on, man, I'm just going to look stupid-" Kris said, leaning away from the kohl pencil. "I don't-this isn't me. If he cares that much what I'm wearing, I'm screwed anyway."
Miles paused, the pencil held up, and then he put it down and said, "Well, you may have a point."
"Thank you," Kris said. "Can I ditch the ruff?"
"Not that much of a point," Miles said dryly.
Kris jerked the doublet straight outside the door, while the guard put his head in and said something low, before letting him in; the second man on the door was eyeing him up and down, kind of smirking. "That bad, huh?" Kris said to him; the guard blinked and then went wooden and said, "Sorry, m'lord?"
"I'm not a-" Kris started saying, but the other guard was turning back and saying, "His Majesty will see you now."
The king was sprawled sleepy-eyed in a low, heavy armchair by the fireplace, long legs stretched out, hard-muscled and lean, a goblet dangling from his fingers. There was music playing on the gleaming radiophone over the mantel, incredibly crisp; Kris hadn't ever heard one that good. "You're a Buckley fan? He's amazing," Kris said, before he remembered he wasn't supposed to speak first. "Uh, sorry."
"He is amazing," the king said, and waved Kris to the chair next to him.
Kris sat a little gingerly, but it was hard not to sprawl-the chair was deep and soft. He jumped as a mechanical arm swung out from the wall and picked up the bottle of wine and filled another goblet sitting on the table by his elbow. "Doesn't that-creep you out at all?" he said.
"You'd be surprised how easy it is to get used to," the king said. "You were telling me why Simon brought you to court."
Kris hesitated, because-he didn't get how he was supposed to be restrained here, or whatever. The king was asking him a question, and there was an answer, and yeah, it involved trashing Baron Trugman, but the hell, the guy had earned it. "I don't want-" Kris said, and stopped and tried again. "I just need to say, I'm not looking to make trouble, or be a jerk about this," he said. "We didn't want a fight in the first place."
"Well, this sounds exciting," the king said, drinking from his goblet.
Kris said, "We just-need help, because if things keep going like this-"
The king held up a hand. "Why don't you back up just a little."
"Right," Kris said. "Sorry, I know I suck at this. My brother's the smooth talker."
The king laughed and tilted his head backwards. "I don't know, it's refreshing." His smile was a little sly, almost teasing, and Kris kind of wanted to grin back at him, share the joke, except he wasn't sure if that was okay. Were you allowed to joke around with the king? It was weird, sitting here thinking that's the king-not that he didn't look the part, he did, but he was still a person, a guy, and this was a fancy room but not all that much fancier than the one they'd given Kris in Lord Cowell's suite. It made it hard to remember Kris was supposed to be staying deferential all the time.
"I'm better at the fighting part?" he offered tentatively.
"Oh, are you?" the king said, and looked him up and down, his mouth twitching, and Kris let himself smile back the way he wanted to; or more accurately, he didn't stop himself doing it in time.
"Yeah, sorry you're getting shortchanged," Kris said. "I think Lord Cowell just wanted me to come because I'm the heir."
"Simon Cowell is a very smart man," the king said. "Possibly just a little too smart for his own good." He waved a hand. "So what's the issue?"
"Well," Kris said, and took a deep breath and just went for it, "Baron Trugman wants us to give him a valley out of my father's estate. He tried to buy it last winter for pretty much nothing, and since we said no, he's been sending men over the border to raid-"
"Why do I know his name?" the king said, interrupting.
Kris swallowed. "He's-Lord Fuller's vassal."
"Mm," the king said. "And your father is Lord Cowell's?"
"Huh? No," Kris said. "We're not-my father's just a squire. But my mom went to school with a girl who's one of Lady Abdul's ladies in waiting, and Lord Cowell was passing through on his way to Edinburgh, so-he stopped with us to change his horses and have dinner, and then-"
"- he brought you along to tell me the tale of woe," the king said.
"There you go," Kris said, spreading his hands. "I get that Lord Fuller's important," he added. "I don't mean this as anything against him, probably he doesn't even know. We're pretty small. But I think Baron Trugman figures he can get away with this stuff because he's got a big patron, and when we tried to go to court, they wouldn't hear the case."
The king didn't say anything right away, just sipping from his goblet and looking into the fire, so after a pause Kris added, "We lost twenty sheep in the last raid, and-I guess that sounds pretty small, but it's not small to us, that's people going hungry in the winter. And one of the demons was done and heading for a farmhouse. This keeps going, it's only a matter of time before they grab a kid."
The king abruptly put down his glass and looked over at him, eyes sharp and glittering. "Demons? What's wrong with your wardstones?"
"They're knocking them over," Kris said.
"The raiders," the king said. "You're saying the raiders are coming onto your property, knocking down the wardstones, and letting the demons in?"
"Yeah," Kris said. "Last time they broke one, and six demons showed up at the same time."
"Oh, fuck that," the king said, and raised his voice. "Guard!" The door swung open, and the guards looked inside. "Go get Lord Cowell and Lord Fuller," the king said. "They can have five minutes to dress, then they get over here."
They both showed up in more like three minutes, a little out of breath and wary; Cowell shot Kris a hard look. "Okay," the king said. "Lord Fuller, one of your vassals seems to have gotten the idea that the little part in his oath of fealty about protecting the borders of the kingdom is, I don't know, flexible? Or maybe he's just a little slow and hasn't realized that fucking with the wardstones anywhere in the kingdom weakens the borders everywhere else."
"Sire," Lord Fuller said, "I gather this is about Baron Trugman? I assure you that you have no more loyal servant. Perhaps there's been some misunderstanding. Or I imagine someone might for their own motives be interested in giving you a false representation of the situation-"
Kris straightened up in his chair-was Fuller actually calling him a liar?
"Simon?" the king said, breaking in. "Nice try. Not that I'm not as ridiculously cynical as the next person, but not this time. Tell Baron Trugman to knock it off, and that I'll be expecting him at court next month to renew his oath directly to the throne. And as a service to the crown, I'd like you personally to see to the complete replacement of the damaged wardstones on the Allen lands. Oh, and the sheep! Let's replace the sheep, too."
Lord Fuller pressed his mouth shut and bowed a little from the waist. "I am honored to serve, Sire."
"Wonderful," the king said. "And Lord Cowell, the next time you hear about wardstones getting smashed, I want to hear about it from you right away, not third-hand a week later while you figure out how to get an advantage out of it. We've had almost twice the demon attacks these last five years as the five before that, and fucking around with this is so not okay. Am I being clear about this?"
"Perfectly," Lord Cowell said dryly.
"Even more wonderful," the king said. "That's all, my lords."
Lord Cowell flicked a glance at Kris as he left the room, maybe annoyed; it was hard to read. Kris stared after him, feeling a little dazed. That had all happened a lot quicker than he had expected. "Uh, thank you?" he said, looking at the king.
The king had slouched back in his chair with his wine again, and he raised an eyebrow. "Don't overwhelm me with gratitude or anything."
"No! I am-I mean, I really am grateful, I just got the impression that it wasn't going to happen that fast," Kris said.
"Mm," the king said. "Let me guess-Simon had you dressed up and sent to my chamber, told you to be good company, and reminded you I'm your sovereign and not to be refused?"
"Something like that," Kris said, baffled, and then he said, "Oh, you're fucking kidding me."
The king started laughing, warm and genuine, a burst of it. Kris rubbed his face, feeling his cheeks get hot. "That was so not my idea," Kris said. "I'm really not kidding."
"Oh, I believe you," the king said, grinning.
"Would you believe I'm also not a complete dumbass?" Kris said. "Because I'm having a hard time with that one."
"A little naïve maybe," the king said. "The court's obviously a little unfamiliar territory. But it works for you. It's kind of adorable."
"Yeah, me and the freaking unicorns," Kris said. He picked up his wine and drank it off, mainly to have something to do with his face instead of just sit there blushing, and put it down. "So-I guess I should-?" he stopped, because right, he was supposed to wait to be dismissed.
The king smiled and stood up, and Kris got up with him, relieved. He figured he could probably even head home tomorrow-and never in a million years mention to his family that Lord Cowell had been, what, trying to pimp him out, Jesus. "Seriously, thank you," he said. "Your Majesty. And, uh. I'm sorry about the uh. The plan. Whatever."
"I'm not," the king said.
"What?" Kris said.
The king stepped in closer, and Kris stared up at him, feeling a little weird and dizzy. Maybe the wine hadn't been the most awesome idea after all. "Kristopher?" the king said.
"Yeah?" Kris said. His eyes really were-amazing. And his mouth was kind of-
"In case no one mentioned it," the king said, "I'm your sovereign. And I'm not to be refused."
"Oh?" Kris said, a little vaguely, because look, it was distracting, and then the king had cupped Kris's face in his hands and was leaning in, and Kris said, "Oh-" and then he was being kissed, sweet and deep and hard.
MORE TO COME :D :D :D :D