#Despite not showing that strong an inclination towards it (she had more ‘proper’ practice growing up which was why she was so skilled)

[undyinglantern]

I have no idea how un/popular of a thought this is since I’m so many years late to reading it, and it hasn’t been animated yet for the anime crowd either, but I think this conversation has had a bigger impact on me than the much lauded monster speech by kita

Though I guess in this case I’d have to say I’m probably much more like tenma than I could ever be like hoshiumi

Hold on I need to go back a couple chapters and talk about something

[zoryany]

Hi! I REALLY liked that Skysolo AU where Han has to meet the royal family, if I prompt you ‘8. I know of your reputation all too well.’ could you possible continue it so he meets Vader? 🥺 (totally understand if not, great AU either way!!)

I’m glad you enjoyed it and I ABSOLUTELY can continue it with that prompt, thank you !! (I’ve definitely blurred the line between “ficlet” and full-blown fanfic at this point tbh…)Imperial Royal Skywalker Family AU Pt 1 || send me ficlet prompts – optionally include characters

After they’d finished their tea, Luke was quick to excuse himself and Han, ushering his guest towards the suite he’d prepared earlier. A wave of relief rolled off Han the moment they left the parlour, and Luke couldn’t help but share the sentiment. Everyone had been civil enough for the duration, but Luke had felt the tension that lingered beneath the polite conversation. Mother and Leia were both furious with him, he could tell, and though both would maintain a proper amount of decorum in front of their guest, Luke knew exactly what he was in for once Father returned.

That was not something he was looking forward to.

As he led Han through the corridors between the parlour and the guest room, Luke tried to stay relaxed and exude as much nonchalance as possible. “Well, that wasn’t so bad, was it? I’d say you’ve won over two out of three already. Probably helps they’re both so upset with me that it’s easier for them to speak to you without snapping right now. Though I will be getting an earful later…”

“Gee, that makes me feel real great about this whole thing,” Han grumbled. Luke couldn’t help but feel sheepish at that, which Han instantly noticed and grimaced in response. “No, I just meant that – look, I’m sorry you’re in this mess, and I’m sorry if it’s ‘cause of me…”

“Hey,” Luke said sharply, “none of that. You didn’t make me leave home in the first place, and while I’ve definitely been enjoying our time together, don’t flatter yourself into thinking you’re the reason I’ve stayed away this long.” Chuckling lightly at the look of offense he was getting from the smuggler, Luke continued. “Don’t get me wrong, there’s no way I would’ve stayed on Ord Mantell as long as I did if not for you, but truth be told… well I actually would’ve stayed away longer if we hadn’t met – just on some other planet.”

He could feel the curiosity burning within Han. They never really talked about why he ran away or what he was doing on Ord Mantell. That was part of the reason the two of them had gotten along, initially – no obligation to speak about their pasts, just focus on the present and the future. Even now, Han wasn’t pushing him despite his clear curiosity, but Luke couldn’t avoid his responsibilities forever.

Reaching the door to the guest room, he let out a sigh as he pushed the door open and gestured for Han to enter first. The smuggler hesitated slightly before breezing past the threshold and into the suite. It was not nearly so resplendent as the Royal Rooms, but it was still the height of luxury. Luke had been sure to select one of the smaller rooms and furnish it modestly enough so Han wouldn’t be overwhelmed, but he was all too aware of how extravagant it was. Simple yet tasteful artwork lined the walls, a large window revealed a magnificent view of Coruscant’s upper levels, and the bed that dominated the space was a plush four-poster with a dreamsilk canopy draped over it. Most of the bedding in the Palace was expensive and made of some form of soft, silk-like material, but Luke had managed to dig up a set of lighter sheets made of Alderaanian cotton that would better suit Han’s comfort level. And, sitting on top of the bed was –

“Mother…” Luke groaned as Han held up the finery and examined it. “She wants you to dress for dinner. Probably sent Threepio to set these out for you while we were distracted by tea, and I’m willing to bet my lightsaber that those will fit you perfectly. I’ll throw in my speeder and guess that I’ve got an outfit set out, too.”

“She seriously expects me to wear this?” Han was holding the dark-coloured suit as though it was made of tissue and would shred if he gripped it too tight. “I’m pretty sure the shirt alone cost more than I’ve made – or ever will make – in my entire life.”

Grimacing, Luke felt a pang of embarrassment, knowing full well that he couldn’t deny that. It was part of the reason he’d left in the first place. He’d never felt comfortable with his status, preferring instead to tinker with mechanics or get to know the people or practice flying over the city. Being a prince just never sat quite right with him. But his parents insisted on nothing short of the best for their children, and nothing quite surpassed their desire to keep the twins safe. They meant well. Luke knew they meant well. They were just… stubborn.

He wasn’t ready for that conversation with Han yet, though, so instead he just let out a breezy laugh and shook his head. “I think you’ll look dashing in it. Mother does have impeccable taste, after all. You don’t gotta put it on yet, though. We still have a bit of time before dinner. I can give you a tour, show you all the places I hid and the secrets I discovered growing up.”

***

Tugging lightly at his collar, Han shifted in his seat, hoping he didn’t appear too awkward as he tried not to stare at Luke sitting across from him. When the two had met, he never would have guessed that the scruffy blond with grease on his cheek and dirt under his fingernails could possibly be anyone even remotely noble. He looked like just about every other down-on-his-luck scoundrel just trying to scrape by, even if the kid had a lot more enthusiasm than most. But if Han thought the difference in his voice when speaking to his mother was jarring, seeing Luke dressed up and put together was staggering.

Though his hair wasn’t quite slicked down – Han wasn’t sure if that was even possible, anyways – it was obvious that Luke had at least put some effort into making it presentable, and it lay a lot smoother than usual, framing his face. A white shirt was visible beneath a black tunic, and he wore matching black trousers, all made from the same, expensive-looking material. The real highlight of the outfit, however, was the deep blue cape secured around his neck with a bright golden clasp and a silvery pattern woven throughout the material like constellations. Luke wore the night sky, which only served to make his features appear even more like a radiant sun.

Han had been mostly quiet through the meal in an effort to keep himself from saying anything overly foolish, sticking to polite acknowledgements and general courtesies. He was so caught up in maintaining decorum that he didn’t even really hear much of the conversation around him, catching only snippets here and there.

Luke looked much more at ease than Han was, and he even appeared to have relaxed since the tense tea session they’d had earlier. He was sharing lighthearted banter with his sister (who kept shooting Han suspicious glances, albeit less frequently than before) and chatting pleasantly with his mother (who seemed far warmer and more genuine than earlier). It was clear that, despite the conversations the family still needed to have, they maintained a strong bond and genuine love for one another.

(Han was decidedly not jealous of that. Not at all.)

The pleasant air in the dining room carried on into dessert, by which time even Han had relaxed a bit and would make the odd remark or share the odd barb with the Princess. They had almost finished working their way through the decadent assortment of cakes and pastries when the atmosphere suddenly shifted.

The change was most obvious in Luke, whose eyes blew wide and a shudder rippled through him as he stiffened in his seat. Gasping with a shaky breath, he lifted his gaze and fixed it on something behind Han’s chair.

“Father.” Oh. Kriff. He probably should have been able to guess that. “I, uh – you weren’t due to return home until after dinner.” It was incredible how quickly the kid’s composure could crumble, switching instantly from the picture of Imperial Royalty to the naive, stammering vagabond who could not lie to save his life.

“No, I was not.” The basso tone produced by the vocoder seemed to fill the entire room, and Han had to suppress a shudder as the towering dark form crept into his field of view like a shadow. Darth Vader loomed over Luke, who looked absolutely tiny next to him, and Han had to give the kid credit for not cowering when a gloved finger was pointed between his eyes. “I do, however, have every right to alter my schedule when matters arise concerning my son.” Luke did cringe a little bit at that. Vader wasn’t done. “My son, who I have not heard from in several weeks, who has returned home with… company.”

Han could not say he deserved the same credit as Luke as he cowered the moment that death mask turned to face him. “Ah yeah, hi, that’s me, uhh nice to meet you, Mr. Vader, sir, I’m –”

“Captain Han Solo.” His jaw dropped and he gaped at Vader as he cut him off. “Yes. I know of your reputation all too well.”

Luke’s eyes had gone wide again, and his jaw dropped down as well. Even the Princess seemed taken aback, though the Empress seemed unfazed.

“You – you know who I am?”

“I make a point to know who the Hutts choose to have dealings with.”

Oh. Kriff, he’d forgotten about Vader’s vendetta against the Hutts. “Hey, hey, I don’t go makin’ a habit of it or anything, just a few jobs for Jabba – who didn’t even like me, anyway. Put a bounty on my head when I dropped a job after realizing the cargo wasn’t spice. I don’t smuggle people. Far’s I’m concerned, the galaxy’s better off without him.”

Vader inclined his helmet slightly while keeping his gaze fixed on Han. The dark, deep crimson of the eyeplates felt like they would burn twin holes right through him. “I must admit,” Vader finally said, “that I can agree with you in that regard, at the very least.” For the briefest second, Han got the impression of amusement before the temperature in the room plummeted again and he had to work to keep his composure. “That does not, however, change the fact that you are still a criminal, nor does it excuse the rest of your misdeeds.”

“Well,” said Han, silently cursing his uncontrollable disregard for his own wellbeing, “ya got me there. But I’m a changed man, honest. I’m pretty aware of your reputation, too, and I got no interest in experiencing it firsthand.”

From across the table, he caught a glimpse of Luke’s expression, which was a confused jumble of amusement, horror, mortification, disbelief and resignation. Beside her brother, the Princess concealed a snort, passing it off as a cough. Han was pretty sure he was done for when Vader took a step forward, his arms uncrossing from his chest as he reached a hand towards him, but the Empress had fluidly risen from her seat and appeared at his side.

Resting her hands delicately on his arm, she gazed up at him with a gentle, soothing expression and whispered something that sounded like “Ani.” Her next words were clearer while still remaining gentle and placating. “Captain Solo here is Luke’s guest, and I have personally offered him our hospitality. Please refrain from terrorizing him tonight. You know how our children feel when you frighten off their company.” Luke and Leia both flushed pink and sunk in their seats.

On the surface, it was a standard family interaction, mother holding back father, father upholding authority, children doing all they could to mitigate their embarrassment, but Han could not think of anything more surreal. The mother in question was the most politically powerful person in the galaxy, dressed in resplendent garments of deep crimson as she looked lovingly up at her husband. The father was the most dangerous man in the galaxy, cutting an intimidating figure and dwarfing his wife while still, somehow, managing an unexpected level of tenderness. The children were set to inherit the galaxy, twin Highnesses -- one of whom he was involved with -- and no less dangerous than their parents.

And Han... had no idea what to do with himself.

Far more gentle than he would have ever expected possible, Vader rested a hand on his wife’s cheek and the two shared a brief embrace, seeming to exchange something entirely private and intimate. In their seats, Luke and Leia flushed deeper, and Han found himself wishing he was anywhere else. Withdrawing his hand, Vader seemed somewhat reluctant as he took a step back. 

“Very well. This is clearly not a conversation for the dinner table. I shall retreat to my study to tie up what loose ends I can while you conclude your meal. However,” Vader turned to face his son, “your mother and I have much to discuss with you, boy. Do not attempt to needlessly delay this discussion.”

Luke, who had slid about as far down in his seat as he could without falling right off, grimaced and looked up at his father with an expression of contrition. “Yes, sir,” he mumbled before stuffing a small pastry in his mouth.

Vader turned on his heel and swept out of the dining room, leaving it in a thoroughly uncomfortable silence. The Princess was resting her hand on Luke’s shoulder and giving her brother, who appeared mortified, a sympathetic look. The Empress had returned to her seat, looking nonplussed, though she had regained some measure of her former severity. 

Once again, Han shifted in his seat and avoided everyone’s gaze. He was starting to get a clearer picture of what he’d gotten himself into. Now he found himself wondering if he’d finally manage to get in over his head.

[worldcakecakecake]

Feliciano and the King of Hearts

Chosen by the gods as the Queen of Hearts from the moment of birth, we follow Feliciano’s story as he grows into royal life, learns to rule, go against age old customs, and his relationship with his husband to be, the King of Hearts.

Chapter 1 I  Chapter 2 I Chapter 3 I Chapter 4 I Chapter 5 I Chapter 6I Chapter 7 I Chapter 8 IChapter 9I Chapter 10 I Chapter 11I Chapter 12 I Chapter 13 I Chapter 14 I Chapter 15 I Chapter 16 I Chapter 17 I Chapter 18 I Chapter 19 I Chapter 20 I Chapter 21 I Chapter 22 I Chapter 23 I Chapter 24 I Chapter 25 I Chapter 26 I Chapter 27 I Chapter 28 I Chapter 29 I Chapter 30 I Chapter 31 I Chapter 32 I Chapter 33 I Chapter 34 I Chapter 35 I Chapter 36 I Chapter 37 I chapter 38 I Chapter 39 I Chapter 40 I Chapter 41 I Chapter 42 I Chapter 43 I Chapter 44 I Chapter 45 I Chapter 46 I Chapter 47

I apologize greatly for the time it took me, several personal things, a hurricane, no electricity, no signal, classes starting…it’s not been easy…but as always just be patient and I hope the contents can be worth the wait. Thank you so much and I hope you enjoy this chapter.

                                                  Chapter 48

His castle had no magnificence. There were no murals, no paintings, no sculptures, no flourishing of flowers, symbols, or even stories. It was only but dark stone, cold, decaying, perhaps an occasional carving one of his men would create, a rug, a tapestry with symbols of himself, of his old kingdom in the heavens, to grant a little color, a little finesse even in his imprisonment. His men would sometimes bring him golden and gilded cups, plates, utensils, tables and even beds that they stole from the kingdoms from time to time, and he would use them as if they were rightfully his, placed and in care only proper for the items of a king…a god.

 He never let anyone disrespect that, never let any forget, despite how the whole world did.

 To remind he dined on salmon niçoise, saag paneer, squid with capers, apple charlotte, mango and passion fruits with elegancy in the hold of his forks and knives, slow in his bites, tasting well every piece, every flavor, a smile in celebration to himself, to this delicacy only he enjoyed from in the castle, in silence, in calm, all this feast to replenish as he pleased.

 He was careful with this specific dark silk robe, engraved in gold like splendorous stardust, loose, excellent comfort for him to lean back, letting himself moan at the taste and exalt.

 Servants knew, they trained, they practiced to take their steps in just the mellow their king wanted, as this current one did, tippy toing in the best hurry she could, a slight tremble in her hands that she tried to control by covering them in her long sleeves, even numbering her breaths to not disturb a trace of the regal air he had made in the last minutes.

 “Your majesty…” she introduced, in just the right intonation that she knew would not awry with the organized balance of peace and silence.

 “Angela, my darling, speak,” he smiled and flew in his position of rest.

 “Rodion’s group has returned,”

 “Splendid, let them in, let them in,” he was glad and accepting, with a welcoming grin, excitement in the sitting he took as the group entered at the servant’s signal, the three damaged, marked, burned, ruined armors showing the rust and force of whatever past mission they have been sent on. Their king smiled on uncaring to these blemishes, uniting his hands and leaning his posture towards them like a curious child awaiting a story.

 “Tell me, how did it go?” The smile he showed was wide and true, but it didn’t stir any confidence, the men feared and looked among each other as they readied to say the words they had prepared. Their main leader, who stood frontal, took a sigh to make himself grow strong, spear at his side standing just as linear as he determined to keep while he told the news.

 “There were more soldiers than we had expected,” he started with. “Rightfully armored, strong magic, countless of men and women that our little numbers could not stand against,”

 “I gave you thirty men,” the king reminded, beginning a strain as he rubbed his fingers on his temple, not a very good sign to the three.

 “We were going against sixty,”

 “Jokers, sixty jokers guarding something that surely holds no interest to the current King and Queen of Hearts. They shouldn’t have been this prepared with a sudden entering like this.” His voice began to alter and anger.

 “May I remind that the prince and the arising queen are currently on the journey, the kingdoms know our numbers increased outside of the field with its weakened state and are doing all the necessary precautions, even jokers.”

 It was still not sufficient enough to their king, who groaned and tightened his grip on the chair.

 “You should have been a stronger match compared to them,” he determined through gritted teeth.

 “Your majesty, you didn’t give us the right men or sufficient amount, perhaps if you-” all interrupted in a choke, a dark enchantment piercing, a burning and eating spreading at the shot of his stomach. He cracked and darkened like the very stones of this castle, falling to ashes and pieces on the floor, eyes lolled and color disappearing until his presence completely ceased in a snap of their king’s hand, a horror to the other two who watched, who could only stand and accept like they had seen it happen before.

 They gazed upward to see their king hold true darkness in his eyes, maddened and stilled, uncaring to the events, he simply rubbed his hands on his robe as if all had just been an annoying spot to rid.

 “You all know what I feel against such insolence…about raised voices out of line…and you know well how I repay,” he warned yet again, baring his rule and power to them, a force he knew made them shake, swallow and sweat.

 “Off with you, make Fergus the new command of your group, have him meet with me in the throne room, we shall discuss his new position,” he decreed, ushering them away with a simple be gone of his hand, leaning to get his glass of wine as his hunger died and was replaced with a new urgency.

 Angela then entered to face him in the usual position, doing well to ignore the shattered corpse on the ground beside her.

 “Clean that up,” he pointed uncaringly to the body, standing once he had emptied his glass, “and take this back to the kitchen, the cooks and servants may share.”

 She bowed in acceptance, trying not to lick her lips in expectation as she watched him pick up and make his way out the halls and into the new line of preparations. All servants that saw him would instantly stop in an altering, bow and carry on with harshened speeds on their earlier duties while their king remained with his eyes forward, angered and sharpened until he reached the height of his room to change.

  Beautiful stitches, belts, even vested symbols upon a large thick robe, soft to his skin, long to trail behind him as if empowering the very ground he walked upon.

 Yes, he thought himself a handsome beauty like this, walking with all that elegance and regency to the throne room, but to the servants he wore his tyranny and lash, ready any moment to invoke death and suffering in the raise of his palm and fingers.

 The opening of the large doors was enough of a silencer to bring whatever murmurs of the room into nothing, for all the men to straighten in force ready for any kind of disposition that would lead them off to war. Their king made his way across in his ever preferred sways, the men not giving a movement or breath out of place until their king found his sitting in the dark carved chair, placing himself in the ruling he belonged and was prepared to invoke at the moment.

 “Furgus,” he called, and thus this man came frontal, with a readied robe, slight armor, a proud staff of energizing dark magic in his tight hold, to use whenever he so wanted to fulfill the needs of his superior.  

 “Rodion disappointed me, I placed him out of the way and now grant you this position based on your other feats and missions. You have done sufficient, I don’t expect to see failure and thus can immediately set you forward on the same task.” There was a hidden growl even in the respectful way he spoke, how easily his words came out like a practiced taunt, which made many more men incline themselves.

 “Rodya!” He called to another man this time, making his side by his other companion, in the same bow to the floor, cutlass at his side as the source and force of his power.

 “Since Vinicio failed me in the Washington attack, he and his squadron had been dealt with accordingly. It leaves me with fewer men outside the field in the Spade Kingdom and in need of replacing his factions. You will then take his place, watch, plan rightfully this time. Don’t disappoint me, or else you know how grave the consequences can be,” he growled with his ever proud dignity on the sit of his chair, with rest and confidence, yet an intent that made all trembled as they accepted to the force of this command.

 “Are you perhaps requesting another attack on the city?”

 “Only what you can do, but I’m warning you that I expect some sort of outcome. As of now the new spheres of validity must have already been placed, but we can still try our usual exits.” He stood, walking forward, silk of robes falling and trailing, extending his hands in order.

 “I don’t expect it to be an easy task from now on, but perhaps that hadn’t been the case if we had captured them as I wanted,” he aggravated that reminder, blaming gazes to all of them, all at fault.

 “But our plans continue on as usual, I shall organize a meeting soon, going further into detail about further suggestions-” a slash, at speeds flying centimeters away from the perfection he had of his pale skin, the slickness of his black hair and his groomed beard. The weapon landed in a harsh stab against the center of the throne, its shaking creating an echo that silenced the room into a new sudden kind of fear. It had been a dagger, not of their darkened kind, but in clear silver, white, and of course…red, with familiar Heart symbols that left no room for the king to doubt.

 The crowd instantly hurried trying to find the direction it had come from, a swarm already preparing their weapons and strategies to rain upon the traitor or the invader.

 The King quickly found it, up on a darkened tunnel before him, old, an entrance that long ago he had forgotten and didn’t bother to question or fix. He saw the hand that fell, the oh so familiar blue eyes from long ago that glared into his darkened ones, bright enough to practically glow in the hidden spot he had taken, but it didn’t hold its meaning long enough when the king had clearly spotted him, with a grin that was welcoming despite the uncomfortable laughter. The long vibration was enough to halt the rooms’ searching and arming, questioning and scared as they tried to find a reason for it just after that kind of dagger threatened to aim directly at their king.

 “Ludwig, Ludwig, Ludwig, here I thought you wouldn’t ever grace me with your visit, what pleasantries and honor,” he provoked loudly, only as he should because of their far distance, but also because of the constant empowering he wanted to do, especially before the prince of Hearts, the arising king of Hearts.

 Ludwig only continued his glare, still not daring to move away from the shield of the shadow, wanting to instill enough killing in only his eyesight. It did nothing to faze Khaos, who only placed his arms in front of himself, smiling away in no bothers and intimidation, confident even in such a bareness, such a meet. Ludwig bared his sword, not wanting to move forward without its companionship. Finally some semblance of light revealed him completely, in those annoying whites that reminded Khaos of his sister, no mercy or care in his eyes about the decease he had caused himself.

 It was then that all eyes in the room noticed him, with gasps, prepares, and starting release of their magic ready to inflict on the single enemy that came alone with no kind of shield showing protection. Ludwig was uncaring to the sudden attention, the wavering menace that was ready to kill in each and every direction, the only shining light in a sea of darkness, with only but a handful of weapons that all thought couldn’t stand enough, but Ludwig was determined to make it last all that it needed.

 He took a leap to the floor below, surrounded, but all knowing well to not attack yet as King Khaos had not commanded and they didn’t see him as much as a threat.

 How mistaken they had been.

 While their king was distracted enough in the continuing connection of their eyes transmitting hatred and vengeance, Ludwig turned and stabbed his sword right through one man’s chest, a last scream erupting before they all began tumbling forward with their own different forces. Clang of swords, of fists, punches, kicks, growls, shouts. A dance of killing and disorder as Ludwig faced each one with either a slash of coated dark blood, a sting of bright fire, or the very force of his body, throws of his side and head, a growing pile of bodies surrounding him. With every hit, every cut, every bruise he himself received, the temptation for his body to join in the mess of deceased somehow seemed more relieving and liberating, but a perseverance continued him forward in his attacks and throws, many more falling under his strength. Khaos? He did nothing as he watched on with incredible interest, like this was all some show that amused him well. He had to admit, Ludwig shone just as tall, strong and skillful as Soren had once been. A Beilschmidt indeed, with all the pride of the name and fitting for the position of a king. That thought was enough of a sickening, of a detest, it provoked annoyance to the mess going around, of the game, clattering and disorder.  

 “Enough!” He shouted, with the spur of a shadow spreading all across the room as quick as lightning. It was a blow enough to have all his men immediately stop, dizzying and disorientated, while keeping a tight hold around Ludwig, all his movements stopped as a dark shadow wrapped around him, constraining him to pain and groans, trying what he could to escape.

 All could let themselves to breathe, to let their weapons fall, cuts ooze and for others to help each with their wounds how they could, while Ludwig was brought forward until he was right before Khaos, in all the clarity and flesh that left nothing to doubt. He was tall and robust as himself, with strong jaw and features that could convey elegance and beauty, with darkness in his eyes, his hair, beard and clothes, but skin pale enough to compare to the snow that fell outside. Right now, he seemed so plain and human compared to the images Ludwig had made from the tales and what he later studied. All that power, darkness, evil… in such a normal daily form that made one forget and doubt. Ludwig had to remind himself that this was just a guise, a curse given to him by the Aces during the original creation, then strengthened by Augusta after his defeat in the war of the blackened decades. As he examined in the constrain of his shadowed bounds, Khaos came close enough as for Ludwig to feel his breath upon his skin, eyes cutting and analyzing like he was but a mere subject to an experiment.

 “How wonderful, perfect, couldn’t have asked or created anything better,” he smiled, sickening and awful, Ludwig wanted to bite off his chuckle in all the savageness of skin and blood that he deserved.  

  “Oh please, stop looking this angry, you were the one who wanted to pay me a visit. Perhaps if you hadn’t been so violent I could have prepared a banquet, something nice that would have made you proud to join me.” he tried to coax.

 “I don’t intend to be in any part of your plans,” Ludwig barked, flinching forward, gripping his hands as if it could make him believe he could go ahead and choke him. Khaos only rolled his eyes, taking sitting once again in his throne, in his usual comfort even with the situation.

 “What a child, should have expected as much after the reports I was receiving.”

 Instant question was in Ludwig’s eyes no matter how he tried to advert it, but nothing could truly hide from Khaos’s judgment.

 “You really think I wouldn’t have spies and messengers in your city telling me every rumor and story? Boy, I’ve been keeping an eye on you from the moment your arising queen was born. I practically know you like your own grandfather,” he was confident.

 “Don’t you dare compare yourself to family, you are nothing to me, nothing,” he spat in a harsh growl.

 “Ah, but in a way, we are,” he smiled, only intensifying the harshness in Ludwig’s eyes and the sharp of his teeth.

 “I haven’t forgotten what I gave long ago to your ancestor, about what’s been boiling through your lineage ready to release with you,” he reminded happily, enjoying the different kind of ways Ludwig’s angering marked his expression uglier.

 “Think about it boy, that kind of power, control, everything you could ever want, everything you despise out of your path, I can even let you reign with me in the new world, a sort of Jack, or a general, surely with a more splendorous throne than anything the Hearts kingdom could give you,” he tried to convince, sure about his persuasion, but to Ludwig it was all insult, in which he wanted to pay in a fight and a killing.

 “I’d rather you killed me right now!” He threatened, he lashed and moved, hoping for a freeing, a chance to fight before that kind of killing reached him. He was not going to be defeated like this, in a clutch, without a battle, so easily in the hold that Khaos wanted.

 “Oh no, no, no, absolutely not, kill my own work like that after thousands of years, unacceptable.”

 And for the first time Ludwig’s eyes widened in worry, in question and nervousness that left him cornered. Khaos had smirked…but it quickly turned into a groan as Ludwig continued to quiver in his confines, still wanting escape, blood, killing. No matter, now he could persevere knowing that Khaos wouldn’t dare kill him wanting his use.

 “Don’t overcomplicate things, you’re stuck here until the next alignment and the more accepting you become, the better, I don’t need you disobeying me.” Like scolding a small child, a feeling that Ludwig intensely hated and it just made his resolve stronger, his wish for escape, a kind of ripping going through the shadowed rope. Khaos had to intensify it before Ludwig could reach an outing.

 “I will disobey, I won’t stop until I’ve seen your skull smashed to pieces!” He shouted, jumping, nearing, two men having to rush and add to the hold, Ludwig trying what he could to shake them off, but the force on him was potent enough, more so when a third had to join.

 Angela had then arrived, especially after she heard the word that quickly spread through the castle, not showing any kind of interest to the new face, but only obedience to Khaos as she stood beside him, fearful and trembling as always.

 “How rude, how brash, certainly no behavior for a king.” Khaos laid with outmost calm, even checking his nails as his men dealt with constraining the invader, who kept on fighting, trying to land some kind of blow on any of them to make this easier and manageable. Not a care Khaos gave as his men suffered any blows or bruises. It was whatever it took to get Ludwig to halt, to accept to his quick defeat.

 “Your majesty, what should we do with him?” Angela questioned, intimidated by the invader’s snarls and piercing savage eyes.

 That moment Ludwig landed a kick on one of the men’s groin, having him fall and even loose breathe just as another came, just as Ludwig managed a blow against one’s head with his own. Khaos laughed, raising his hand yet again, creating a shadow to tie around his mouth, ceasing any kind of movements of his head and neck, only to angry mumbles wanting to bite it off, his eyes rising to Khaos with his still vengeful spirit.

 “Accept him as one of our own, of course.”

 Ludwig detested, detested, detested, the fire in the burn of his eyes growing.

 “But in the meantime, while he reflects and comes to turn to his destiny, he shall be kept in the cellars, our coldest one, that will serve him enough. I’ll keep an eye on him…see if I can…” he began to watch his hands, concocting and brewing ideas that alighted his eyes with excitement. All the possibilities, all the new he could add, and with a whole year before it, a whole year to make him quiver and test the limits of his resistance. Ah yes, a cold and weakened body, to ruins, nothing once what was truly inside him would be released for the new alignment.

 “…rile him up, test a little of what that wretched Romulus left behind for him,” he smirked and decided, waving his hand away as a command to get him moving. Four men had to come to add to the restrain, while Ludwig kept fighting, kept testing those restrains as men continued what they could to barricade him.

 As the room scurried, as all the men began to move, staring to Ludwig’s retreating form, whispers of worry and plan arose. Some wanted to follow and help, others wanted to remain in the room to continue hearing their leader speak of new commands and tasks. Khaos just settled, ignorant of all and just wanting some rest for his thoughts to proceed and plot, wonderful ideas that could get Ludwig to break. Once again it was interrupted by another slam, other steps, an angry kind of intimidating aura that began to reign all across the room…and all so familiar and beautiful one that made Khaos momentarily sway.

 “Now what,” he complained, rolling his eyes, having to awake from his thoughts.

 All the earlier mess stopped in an instant. Between the crowds a single shinning figure made his way between, bravely, with head held high and more intimidating with the addition of a St. Mark walking just as regally beside him. Khaos did not want to think who it was, none of them wanted to, but a new kind of trembling went through all as they began to recognize well the kind of presence that reigned, the powerful steps, strong grip of hands and stature that made one fearful to approach, all moving aside to grant this figure all the necessary space, none daring to disturb, to go against, some even refused to look. Khaos decided to take one last calming breath before he would settle his eyes on this new welcoming, giving a moment of last flight in his mind, a closing, a fall of his head until it could balance itself to look forward, for his eyes to open and meet.

 It was a boy, dressed in very similar whites to Ludwig, but the intensity of his red eyes, of the marks that covered his body, even the intense growl that formed in his mouth didn’t seem to go with the sweetness he had expected from the reports about no other than Feliciano Vargas.

 No, the magic that arose, the intensity, the power…the familiarity.

 This was not Feliciano Vargas, no, but his beloved, his creation, his past wife, all the same radiance and wonder even with intent to kill.

 “Augusta! How long and what luck for me to receive two such important guests in the span of minutes, is there a celebration that I missed? Don’t you worry, I can have my servants whip us a feast in no time,” he dared smile and continue his challenging eyes, arms extended in welcome even as the figure continued to remain in the same harshness he had entered in, bearing so much fire that even Khaos let his hand fall under them, seeming to wonder what could be the problem.

 He was pretending, she knew, hiding and uncaring as always.

 “And here I thought a thousand more years could have changed something about you, but you’re still as ignorant as the days of beginning.” It was rather odd for such a womanly voice to be heard from the figure of a young man, having to go along with the expressions and movements of this past woman, goddess, Ace, like a puppet, a vessel as it should be. Like it was her own body, taking immediate owning of it, she wrapped her arms on her chest, scolding and wanting, one of command that already asked.

 It really was like she was before him once again. It added that Feliciano looked remarkably like her, making it hard for differences to be pointed out.

 “Aw, it’s nice to know that you held some ounce of belief for me,” he brought a hand forward to his chest touched.

 “I believe chances should be granted to all, but you test my belief in that.” No doubt, no backing down, no fear in those eyes, even as Khaos stood trying to intimidate her with his stature, all the men around her with sharp weapons, the very dark dome and pillars that held this castle of evil ruin.  She learned to see it as nothing, confidence shining more with her as the lion beside her took a sitting, showing honor and respect despite the cruelty of this king.

 “It’s like no time has passed. You’re still the same child,” he laughed, beginning his steps down wanting to truly be frontal before her.

 “You out of all dare tell me this? Reason it is enough to burn this vessel of yours to make it as unseemly as you truly are,” she threatened, with ready spite to attack in every movement of his lips.

 Khaos dared come closer, he dared stand right before her, their heat close, sickening and maddening to her, but as a testing she remained as she was, hatred still shinning deep in those eyes. He extended a hand and yet she didn’t budge, the only movement in the room was that of Ludwig’s from afar, who witnessed everything with worry and unsettlement. The men who kept a hold of him had stop to stare at this confrontation between their king and his early first creation, at a distance where Ludwig could see everything, trying harder to release himself, more when he saw Khaos give that deploring closeness to Feliciano. To worsen his fear, he saw as Khaos lay a caressing hand on Feliciano’s cheek, a sick smile that made Ludwig want to punch it out more, intensifying his force in trying to release himself from these grasps.

 “This new vessel you take is quite interesting,” Khaos let himself compliment as Augusta grimaced, as Feliciano trembled inside in deep fear, yet still, yet letting.

 Khaos brought himself closer, for their faces to only lay centimeters by each other, breaths close, more fear igniting in Feliciano below.

 “Even as a man you’re as desirable and beautiful. Yes, I don’t mind it, I like this form very much,” he licked his lips, his closeness beginning for more, riling more Ludwig in his distance, back to his kicking and punching for a release.

 “I can want it,” he grinned, closer and closer, pass barriers neither did Feliciano and Augusta accept.

 There was a sudden burning grip on his arm, lightening in a red glow that buried them in a haze, the intense of her hold showing her anger, her defense and backing of him, of no acceptance to any of the sick thoughts he let himself concoct.

 “I don’t recall granting you permission for this, I don’t recall ever wanting you and I assure you Feliciano has no similar wants,” she scolded, pushing him away, all watching one of those rare moments that Khaos let himself trip, panic and even move back as he shook his arm trying to relieve himself from the heat, the pain, letting his mind begin a healing in the area.

 Augusta, in the guise of Feliciano, stood yet as unaffected, no kind of reaction to the small hurt she caused on the powerful man.

 “How did you get in? Why are you here?” He was losing his patience, growls beginning and anger slowly replacing whatever lust was there earlier.

 “I created this field, I can grant myself whatever entrance and exit I want, it’s as simple as creating enough of an opening,” she explained easily.

 Khaos sent glances to some of his men, who nodded and began marching away, surely to grant themselves an escape for his mission. Augusta could have added that she closed up her entrance just for this to not happen, but she refused to give the energy, they could disappoint and later kill themselves as they tried to escape the new potency of the field which now had newer Ace magic. She only rolled her eyes and settled on him again, wanting to continue his questions.

 “As for my visit, I come reclaiming something back before you taint it more in your horrible magic,” she assured and demanded.

 “What is it that you’re asking?”

 “That you return to my grandson his beloved, his king, I will not let him remain here, I will not let you place a finger on him and intensify to the worst of your own,” she growled, she practically shouted as she wanted to make her decree sure, for once enough to have Ludwig suddenly stopping, a widened that showed through the rest of his body.

 “Oh, you mean Ludwig over there,” Khaos pointed to him as if he was a useless item.

 “Yes, at once, and we’ll be leaving instantly.”

 The crowds awaited for Khaos’s answer, which he postponed to worsen the agitation, even the menace that grew from Feliciano’s body.

 “I cannot do that,” he assured, instantly fuelling the fires of Augusta’s anger.

 “Why?” Her tone harshened, with a monstrous growl that made some of the men quiver in fear, parting more from her side, for they felt the heat strong, ready to burn them.

 “He came here on his own free will, it’s only what he wanted and I am going to give him. With him here earlier than I had expected means that I can strengthen him to what I want, make him a more powerful pawn. I can’t let go of that, now that it’s already here with a year anticipation.”

 It caused Ludwig to fight on more on his side. He still desired to hurt him good, he still wanted to punch him bad.

 “And I will not permit it!” Augusta determined, taking steps closer to him, with points and harshened steps that threatened to break the stone under her.

 “I want him to leave with me right now,” she shadowed, she continued to demand with fury and Khaos was not letting himself fall under it, turn weak, indifference in his eyes, checking his nails, even his wrist, admiring the dark jeweled bracelet he wore.

 “I still won’t, my dear.”

 That did it.

 She forced in a slam Feliciano’s foot to the ground, creating a shaking throughout the whole building, rocks falling, crashes of pillars resounding across the halls, creating worsened shouts and for the men to scurry in fear. Fire began to alight around the room, brightening, burning, some even fell to its clutches, filling the room in shouts and the smell of melting flesh. The jets continued to grow, some fires reaching as high as the dome above them, not a part hidden from her red, nobody saved from sweating, from the light of intensity that had many covering their eyes. Yet Khaos sat as nonchalant, not in the lease disturb, only continuing his angry glares with Augusta, the occurrences around them doing nothing to interrupt them.

 “You cannot defeat me right now and I have more than enough power and men to stop you if you dare to escape,” he reminded with a growl, with anger slowly releasing.

 “But I can make you pain.” She brought Feliciano’s hand forward, piercing right through his chest with the same fires, the same burning and for once did Khaos let himself squirm, to fall out of breath, shout, trying to release himself by scratching tightly to Feliciano’s arm, but even still Augusta continued her hurt, the scratching and destroying of the insides of this vessel, of one of his priced robes, weakening enough for his efforts to do nothing.

 Despite the cringing, his trying for a release, the words Augusta wanted to hear refused to leave his mouth, he still managed a glare, even through the sweating, the greeted teeth, even the blood and burn that oozed down his body, tainting Feliciano’s arm.

 “Nothing,” he managed to growl out, “all this will do is just ruin the vessel and weaken your own. You’re only wasting your magic. Our true battle will take place in the next alignment, not inside the field, the very force would not permit our magic to extend to those of killing, because if not, believe me so I would have ridden of all of you easily.” He spat confidently, tiring yet maintaining his fortitude, his resolve, one Augusta was starting to see clear much to her disappointment…it meant she had to go along with other plans, admitting to the right of some of his words.

 The fires dispersed, she let Feliciano release the hands from the bloodied hole she created, letting Khaos finally breathe what he could as his vessel began its own healing. Feliciano’s hand was now dirtied, Augusta examining it before she cleaned it off in an easy control, as clean without the proof of the small moment of violence she had just created.

 “Very well then,” she accepted, walking away, many for a moment thinking that she would just leave, right out through the entrance she had so easily taken. Then again…would she be willing to leave behind Ludwig with Khaos?

 Instead of the exit, she came forward to the group that still held on to Ludwig, frightened of her to the point that they let go of the prince, confident that the shadow restraint Khaos placed would be enough. With a single pointing of her power he was released, able to move, to breathe properly, to stare to the figure of his beloved as astounded, knowing that at the moment it was Augusta he should respect. To show this he bowed, the lowest he could, practically hiding his face. Augusta would not permit it, setting Feliciano’s hands on his shoulders to raise him. She sent him a respectful gleam and a smile, an assurance of friends.

 “I shall remain here as well then,” she decided, earning a collective gasp from all in the room, even Ludwig, who instantly was ready to refuse if Augusta hadn’t raised a finger silencing him. Even Khaos’s expression was that of surprise, staring on and wondering if he had really heard her acceptance to stay, to drag in Feliciano as well.

 “You wouldn’t dare,” Khaos challenged.

 “All I’ve ever done is dare you, so yes, I shall remain, unless you let us leave,” she assured, hoping it could test him some more, but Khaos only glared, resting on his throne in acceptance, even if angered.

 “All right, it will bound to make things interesting until the alignment. Welcome then my dear,” he smiled sinisterly, surely ideas that Augusta had to calm Feliciano about in her mind, assuring him with ideas and ways for him to stand brave for their second plan.

 “I’m doing this as a way to watch over Ludwig, to make sure you do nothing to him,” she glared on, brushing some dust of Ludwig’s pristine white suit, if still some parts ruined with cuts and blood stains because of his earlier fight with Khaos’s men.

 Khaos chuckled, all a joke to him, a show. “I believe it’s better. I can watch over you and Feliciano as well, and hey, perhaps Ludwig can rid of you quicker here,” Khaos delighted at the thought, smiling splendidly with expectation.

 Augusta decided to ignore and roll her eyes, focusing once again on Ludwig…or was she? There was a deepening in her eyes, a loving intent, her hands caressing way too intimately his face, finding, searching, a hopeful smile that Ludwig couldn’t help grinning back to. He had to remind himself that he held that spirit of Romulus that she so desired and hoped was still out there, and to know he was inside him, her own grandson’s beloved, her dear friend Soren’s own great grandson. It was a wonderful meeting that left her glowing, with greetings to a past and with hope for an amazing future. Then she took notice of Ludwig as he was, away from the meanings he held in his soul. He was as handsome as Soren had been at his age, strong, kindness in his eyes…even fear with the occurrences going on around them, yet brave, determined, obsolete and forward. Soren’s lineage created an amazing king, a perfect companion for his own Feliciano, with just the heart to be a Queen.

 “Are you going to stay like this?” Keron wondered to many things, one being her commanding of Feliciano’s body and the very scene before him that disgusted, bringing annoyance to his expression.

 “No…but don’t you dare think I won’t be watching, don’t you dare try a thing against Ludwig or Feliciano, or you will suffer more of my fury. Even if I can’t kill you I will try anything that will make you cringe as you just did, and trust me Keron, I can find new ways.”

 Khaos had to try really hard to hide his shiver.

 “That’s my last warning and offer, head to them and we will later see how our next facing will go.” She gave him one final glare before she turned completely to Ludwig.

 “So be it,” he nodded, but yet other plans settled in his mind.

 Augusta extended her hands and gave one last dear caress to Ludwig’s jaw, one last look and longing before she brought Feliciano’s body closer, to lay in the comfort of his shoulder, enough for a sweetness many simply thought of as an exaggerated display, but Augusta used it as a disguise.

 “Do not worry, I have given Feliciano a plan, he shall explain everything later in private,” were her last words before she began her leave, her return to Feliciano’s inner soul, giving him his reign back, his weakness, his haze, dizziness, quickly stumbling in Ludwig’s hold. Feliciano groaned, his head panging deeply, trying to regain order, movement, even a proper stand as his surroundings continued to spin. Ludwig held to him immediately, his grip strong, arms around him, raising his head to him as a sort of comfort.

 “Ludwig…Ludwig!” Feliciano exclaimed in sudden glowing joy, jumping and wrapping his arms around him in the same love, in the same lost of each other, giving them a small moment of peace, of relief, of coming back to each other, Feliciano truly as he was.

 Surprisingly none of the men around them did anything to stop this, confused, questioning, hoping for some kind of command by Khaos, but for now he stared on to this with continuing annoyance, rolling his eyes, then wanting to be immediate in his next orders.

 “Take Ludwig to one of the furnished prisoner rooms,” he suddenly commanded, force in his voice like a snap, enough for the men to fall back into action.

 “What?” Feliciano questioned as he gave a moment to turn away, just the distraction for the man to take as a holding, pulling the lovers away, instant disagreement in their shouts, in their kicks and pushes.

 “You gave your word not to do anything to us,” Feliciano managed to shout, just as Ludwig was once again tied in shadows, double on his chest and hips, around his mouth, neck and now even hands. It drove Feliciano to act more, to try his own punch and kicks despite his weakness, his missing throws and how it hurt him when he did collide with another body.

 “Oh how cute, you do have bite, interesting.” Khaos smirked, with his ever elegance coming closer. He didn’t put any binding on Feliciano, his men took easy control of his body, his magic too weak, the very binding of the field, enough for both the intruders to fall into silence, to listen to the king.

 “I said Ludwig would be taken to a prisoner room, much more decent than the cellar I had in mind. He can rest and be comfortable, much to my disappointment. Now as for you my dear.” He brought himself closer to the arising Queen, his brown eyes with his own shake, fear, growing tears, truly his emotion, his terror. To worsen it, Khaos brought a hand to take his chin, turning it as he pleased to admired the lovely form of this new coming queen’s face, very similar to how Augusta’s had been, with the rose of her cheeks, her luscious lips and the soft curls. He had to make use of it, a sicken smile on his lips again, many alarms going through Feliciano’s entire being.

 “Take his highness to the Queen’s room, only fitting, let him be attended well, I shall invite him to dinner tomorrow.” He expected, delighted, a smile that any host could hold, but it didn’t fit with the fact that it was Khaos, that this was the dark castle inside the field, both the only Hearts, no moment giving calm to Feliciano to think that Khaos could be kind and forgiven now.

 “Take them away,” he commanded lastly before he turned away to other halls, to other matters, the swoon of his robes like an erase to keep them behind, uncaring to the continued fights the two made as they were beginning to be moved away.

 “Ludwig! Ludwig!” Feliciano managed to constantly call out to him, trying to find escape, hoping the reach of his hand could do something to bring him close once again.

 Before he knew it, doors were shut in his face and he was taken elsewhere.

[storiesofwildfire]

It’s Not Alright, But It's Okay

          { @weightofmyshield -- plotted starter for tiny!Steve }

♔—- Loki’s life was anything but ordinary. In truth, he sort of had a bit of a Hannah Montana story arc going on. During the day, people knew him by Loki, a young college graduate who played the violin and spent most of his time holed up in his loft, painting or sculpting for various art shows that he participated in. He was, by no means, a famous artist, but he gained enough recognition around the city to make a decent living by selling or featuring some of his pieces.

Occasionally, he even sported art shows to showcase everything he’d been working on and people truly did seem to eat up his creations. In fairness, Loki had a very strong, raw talent for telling stories through art and people responded well to it.

He was openly pansexual, dressed in a fashion that lent itself more towards androgyny than masculinity or femininity and always seemed to take a bit too much pride in his public appearance. He had a few close friends, people who supported his career as an artist and his self-expression in daily life as well as his second chosen career.

And yet, Loki never truly found happiness as Loki. While there were plenty of things the artist was open about and willingly shared with the world, there were even more secrets hidden just beneath the surface, things Loki hadn’t come to terms with or were afraid to reveal to even the people closest to him. His true gender identity, for instance, how he chose to express the gender fluid nature he actually adhered to, and the dark traumas of his upbringing. Even the friends Loki did keep close only saw glimpses and Loki never truly went into detail about the abuse he’d suffered growing up or how he’d never been accepted by his peers for one reason or another.

Loki was always too much of something, good or bad, and it always ended the same: people pushing him away.

So, he learned to push people first so he could be the one hurting others rather than the other way around. It wasn’t a way to live and he knew that but moving through his past experiences and navigating journeys of self-discovery and self-acceptance always seemed like a hard-enough task without fearing people leaving halfway through.

That journey of self-discovery led him to his “double life” decision, though. During the day, he was Loki, an openly pansexual, closeted gender fluid artist who spent more time with paints than people. At night, however, Loki transformed into a beautiful woman who went by the stage name Emerald Shores. A drag performer who captivated audiences with her beauty, her grace, and her talent.

Emerald started as an experiment to explore sexual and gender identities, but she quickly blossomed into an alter ego that allowed Loki to escape the realities of day-to-day life and, in a way, be more authentically Loki. Emerald enjoyed massive success, so much so, that she actually made more money from her gigs than Loki did from selling off paintings. People ate her up with a spoon. Perhaps it was her blend of classic drag with modern elements? One of the talents she showcased, after all, was her musical inclinations. Who didn’t love watching a drag queen play the violin? Or, perhaps it was her beauty? Aside from Loki’s obnoxious height in pumps, Loki made for a very believable and gorgeous young woman. It never took much makeup or too much padding to sell the illusion. Loki already had so many feminine features anyway, he was practically built to be a Glamazon. Or maybe, just maybe, it was Emerald’s enforcement that life is hard, but that shouldn’t stop you from being yourself any way that really resonated with people.

For years, Emerald acted as Loki’s escape, what the artist most looked forward to every week, but as time went on, a new realization crept in and new loneliness along with it.

People adored Emerald, loved her, wanted to speak with her, see her perform, and get pictures with her after the shows were over. Some people even wanted autographs and videos of her were posted online all the time, but none of her so-called fans even knew who she was under the glitz and glam. Loki did not exist, there was only Emerald, a persona that was very much Loki, but only Loki’s very best qualities. No one saw the queen for who she really was or what flaws she possessed and that weighed... heavily on her. It made genuine connections harder to form because people did not want Loki, they only wanted the mask and the stage presence.

He loved drag because it allowed him to explore himself and be himself, but he didn’t know how to balance that life with real, day-to-day life, and it wore on him for ages. Emerald started to feel like an expectation and a standard that Loki could never live up to and she started to feel more like a prison sentence than an escape.

A feeling Loki genuinely hated and feared, because his passion for performing and dressing up to do it was always so evident...

At the end of the day, loneliness gripped at his heart. Yes, he did have a few close friends that stuck by him and saw him for more than just a good artist or a successful drag performer, but every stab at making new friends or even finding a partner fell flat. Forming meaningful connections became harder and harder and, eventually, Loki stopped trying, but that only made the loneliness worse. The reoccurring joke of needing to get laid certainly didn’t help things, but maybe that wasn’t too far off?

Maybe sex would make him feel better, somehow?

One of the bartenders that worked at Click-Clack, a gay club that Loki frequently performed at, pulled Loki aside one night after the show. “I know you’ve kind of been down on yourself,” Lawrence said, his tone quiet and hushed so no one would overhear them. “I know you’ve really been struggling to date and put yourself out there, so I thought this might help.” He passed Loki a card with a name and a number on it, written in messy handwriting. “Stevie’s a real sweetheart. He’ll treat you well for the right price and you’ve got plenty of money to spare. Why not give it a try?”

“I’m not paying someone to fuck me,” Loki insisted, the offense clear in his tone, but the bartender only pushed the card closer to him. “How desperate do you think I am?”

“On a scale of one to ten? Probably a solid eleven.” If Loki hadn’t been offended before, he certainly was now. “Look, I’m not trying to insult you. I just think if you had a good time with someone, maybe it would help pull you out of your funk. It helped me. I wouldn’t recommend you anything that I wasn’t willing to do too.”

“You’ve... hooked up with this person before?” Loki asked, astonished.

“Yeah, and he’s great. Give him a chance, he might help get you out of this slump.”

Loki took the card but didn’t say another word about it and for weeks, never even looked at the card again. After a while, though, the temptation plagued his mind, kept reminding him of his conversation with Lawrence... Loki hated the idea of paying someone to come and spend a few hours with him, of paying for sex. It seemed so horribly pathetic to stoop so low, but was the queen not in a low point already? Would it not maybe be beneficial?

He could always try it once and if he didn’t enjoy it, then he would never do it again. No one needed to know, right?

As low as the idea made him feel, he realized he probably couldn’t get much worse, so he finally picked up his phone and punched in Stevie’s number. Should he call? Or would a text be more appropriate?

Oh, who was he kidding? He didn’t have the nerve to actually call.

[ text; Stevie ]; Hey there... [ text; Stevie ]; Uhm, you don’t know me, but someone I work with gave me your number. I don’t even know how to say this or inquire about it without offending you, but—

What did he say without making a right proper arse of himself? He’d already sent two texts, though, like an idiot. He should have planned out his messages before sending anything at all, because now it was far too late to back-track. He typed and deleted his next message a dozen times before finally settling on something.

[ text; Stevie ]; Basically, he told me that he’s hired you for certain... “services” in the past and suggested I seek you out for the same reasons. [ text; Stevie ]; I don’t know how true his story is, but I am desperately in need of some help.

Yes, Loki, that was definitely one way to put it...

Much to his surprise, after about an hour of painting to distract from his anxiety, he actually received a text back from Stevie, and one that was pleasantly accepting and understanding of his desires and needs. Not only did he seem willing, but he also didn’t seem offended at all. Perhaps the man simply enjoyed his work? There was nothing wrong with sex work, after all, as long as you were safe and mindful about it. Despite Loki’s own personal hang-ups about paying someone to sleep with him—which spawned from pride more than anything—he didn’t actually think poorly of people who had sex for money. It was an honest way to make ends meet and maybe Stevie really needed the money?

Whatever his reasons, Loki was just genuinely thankful he hadn’t offended or upset the young man.

The had a few back and forth texts discussing a payment agreement, pricing, and anything that was off limits, but when it came to setting a time and a location to meet, Loki paused. He was really going to go through with this, wasn’t he? Where should they meet? A hotel? Loki’s apartment? What would even be appropriate in a situation like this? And what would be safe for both of them?

[ text; Stevie ]; Come to Click Clack. It’s a gay club in downtown. I perform there on weekends. I will be there Thursday night as well. I get off at 2. The club closes then, but I have a private dressing room in the back to get ready for shows and house my things. We can use it. We won’t be interrupted, and no one will question why I’m staying late. [ text; Stevie ]; I’ll have the cash with me. You’ll get it up front, okay?

With that, he sent the address of the club and nothing else, though his heart pounded in his chest. It didn’t seem to stop the entire week and when Loki finally headed to the club on Thursday, he found himself equal parts nervous, excited, and ashamed.

Would Stevie even show, he wondered?

Eh, he couldn’t worry about it just yet, as he did have a show to prepare for. So, Loki took the envelope of money and hid it in his vanity, beneath enough makeup that no one would ever think to look there, and then set out to get ready for Emerald’s show. Loki selected a rather short, emerald dress with a beaded corset that only hit down to mid-thigh, but the skirt had enough volume that Loki could get away without properly tucking. Going through the measures of a proper tuck would definitely hinder Loki later on that evening and untucking was anything but sexy... A couple pairs of stockings and some tucking panties would, at the very least, give Loki enough support to make it through the show without any embarrassing mishaps.

She completed the look with black over-the-knee boots that shimmered under the light to reflect shades of green and blue and a volumized wig with a similar color story to the boots. She painted to match her outfit, her eye makeup intense jewel tones that flared out into a cat shape and, of course, dark purple lipstick that nearly looked black.  Her entire look was very on-brand for Emerald, but it was designed more for comfort in mind...