#Ruby red crystalline earrings

[thejewelryhut]

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[fanficsat12am]

when the brothers realize how much MC loves them I Lucifer & Mammon

📜 𝙼𝙰𝚂𝚃𝙴𝚁𝙻𝙸𝚂𝚃!! 📜

Lucifer

He was Lucifer Morningstar, the picture of perfection. He had everything planned, everything taken care of, everything written down. He had to protect that perfect image and anything that dared to disturb it was met with a toothy snarl, a sharp glare, glowing ruby-red eyes, and a towering figure with the power to kill anything in just a second. No one had managed to see what was behind the curtains, nor had anyone really tried. No one except you.

He had been slaving away at his office for what felt like the nth night in a row. His usually kept demeanor was disheveled, posture stiff, shoulders tense, movements quick and emotionless, like that of a machine. You knew he couldn’t do anything about it. As Diavolo’s right-hand man, he had a plethora of work that needed to be finished—with even more to come the next day. That didn’t mean you could idly watch by the side though, unable to bear the thought of your significant other rotting away with each passing night.

You slowly moved closer toward the hunched man, each step more determined than the last. Even as you stood in front of him, he still had yet to acknowledge you. The distance made by the desk between you felt vast like it was a great wall barricading him from you. The only coherent thought in Lucifer's mind was the documents that were sprawled along the mahogany surface. “Lucifer…” you call out, the name falling on deaf ears. The scribbling of the pen continues to taunt you as you wait for a response. “My Love, you’ve been at it for days. Please rest” you plead, the previous attempts of getting him to rest slowly starting to weigh on you. You move closer, positioning yourself beside him. You take a gentle yet firm hold of the hand furiously writing on the parchment, halting it in its tracks. He briskly flicks your hand off with a grunt—as if your touch alone had burned him. The simple action took you aback. It was as if the demon infront of you was foreign. You knew to yourself this wasn’t your Lucifer.

You were unsure of what to do. Your once-firm determination had by this point waned, leaving you with little more than a desperate desire to pry him out of that chair. Whenever you were in need of comfort, his warm embrace would be there to hold your pieces together. Now, you were met with the crisp cold feeling of nothingness. It had been so long since you felt his touch, you didn’t realize how starved you were of it. Slowly, you envelop him in your hold. You needed him, you needed to know he was still there. He was just about to shove you away again when he heard your faint, trembling voice. “Please…stop hurting yourself. Stop hurting me,” you whispered, letting him go and instead cupping his face to make him finally look at you. “Just for tonight…don’t be Lucifer Morningstar” you beg, a stray tear finding its way out and falling down your cheek. You silently cursed yourself, knowing that crying will just add to the stressful plate he already had. But you couldn't help it. The dam you had tried to conceal had finally broken, pouring out every unshed tear you kept hidden from him.

As he sat and watched each crystalline tear roll down your face, he could feel his heart sink further and further down his stomach. Gazing into your eyes, he sees all the worry you’d been garnering all this time. All the hurt you had wasn’t for you, but for him—because of him. How could he have done this to you? You didn’t deserve this. Everything was wrong. This wasn’t perfect. Nothing was, not until your beautiful smile had returned. He wasn't aware of when he had begun to cry, only noticing once were wiping it away with the pads of your thumb. What did he ever do to deserve you? Even in your time of despair, all you cared about was him. He gently brought his hand to your face, wiping away as much of your tears as he could while kissing away those that followed. “For you, I’d do it every waking hour” he replied.

As he carried you to the comfort of his bed, his mind had yet to cease its punishment on him. He felt disgusted with himself. The mere thought of you having to see him in such a state, to have you think you needed to beg for him to come back to you when in reality it was he who should be pleading for you to stay. He couldn’t stand it. Pressing a tender kiss to your temple, he makes a silent promise to be better for you. You didn’t need a perfect boyfriend, because he knew that in your eyes he was already enough.

Mammon

“Psh. How stupid can ya be?”

Push. That’s all he knew to do. But how much could he push until you fall off the edge? How long would you hold on until you’d finally had enough? As he stared at your sleeping figure, he was afraid he’d found the answer.

“I don’t need ya. Not now not ever”

He wanted to take it all back, to slap some sense to his past self, to get on his knees and beg for your forgiveness. But the damage had been done. The seed of doubt had already been planted. To make matters worse, he had yet to apologize, letting the seed take root and grow into something sick and twisted. All he could think to do was to silently lay down next to you for what might be the last time. It was greedy of him, but he had to at least savor each remaining moment he could cling to. As he places himself inches away from you, the repercussions of his actions were now on full display. He quickly noticed the dried tear marks across your cheeks, your usually bright eyes now puffy and swollen, and how a deep breath would interrupt the steady rise and fall of your chest. He could feel as his heart clenched in guilt, the words he’d carelessly thrown at you now seemingly forming a huge lump in his throat. He wanted to pull you close, to hold and shield you from the other dangers of the world. But he knew he couldn't, not when he himself was what he needed to protect you from.

“Know your place, Human”

With a shaking hand, he places his palm on your cheek and attempts to wipe away the tears he was meant to wipe a long time ago. You’re gently woken up by the feeling of his touch, still a bit tired after your crying session. Although your mind was hazy, you could easily see the absolute regret Mammon had as he gingerly wiped away at your face. He refused to meet your eyes, afraid to see the hatred awaiting in those orbs that once held so much love for him. But he couldn’t resist. He needed you to know that the next words he was about to say were his, that it came from the deepest part of his heart. Shifting his gaze to finally look at you, the apology he had prepared quickly died down on his tongue. Even at your state, you still cease to leave him breathless. But he knew he had to say something. Anything. Please, just do something.

“I’m sorry” he whispered. It was pathetic, he knew. There was so much he wanted to say, but…this was the most important one. He watched as you placed your hand over his and softly kissed his palm with the most love he had ever felt, nuzzling closer into his touch. Tears brimmed his eyes, blurring his vision with each second that passed by. The hand that used to be by your cheek was now entangled in your hair, while the other had wrapped around your waist—both drawing you closer to his embrace. That night he held you tighter as if you were sand about to slip through his fingers. He doesn't know what to do to make it up to you, but for now, he focuses on holding you, relishing the warmth that his stupid mouth had almost cost him. He would let anyone from the three realms take everything he had if it meant he could keep you. Anything but you. You were his MC, and your place was here in his arms.

[plaguechyld]

Dom!Reader x Sub!Muzan

Content contains: Overstim, Dom reader, gender neutral reader, Spanking, Punishment, Dom/Sub relationship, Sub Muzan, Basically just straight porn

I was planning on making this probably about twice the length but I’m lazy. Also I don’t know how to end smuts that aren’t complete (unfinished sex scenes) so… Awkward cut off, yay.

18+ content ahead!

His ruby red eyes are clouded with crystalline tears as his fluffy eyelashes stick together from the liquid. A whiny and needy sound escapes from the lips of his mouth, a desperate beg to tell you to do something. Muzan bucks his hips after being restrained from doing so for so long, he doesn’t care that he wasn’t supposed to. He was desperate, desperate for the agonizingly sluggish pace of the machine to speed up. For you to do something, anything else to him. However the demon freezes when he hears a tutting sound coming from you.

“Muzan… I told you not to move, this is the third time already that you’ve disobeyed me.” You say in an almost condescending way as they rub the demon’s cheek. Muzan shakes slightly and tries to bury his face in your shoulder, however the position the two were in prevents him from doing such things. The ravenette was sitting between your legs with his own legs spread. You had a tight grip on his thighs, holding him still now. Most prominently, there was a device attached to his dick. It sucked in an almost painfully slow manner. The inconsistency of the pulls on his dick had ruined multiple of his orgasms, causing the demon progenitor to fall into the state he was in currently. However the machine didn’t stop, it sucked away at him as inconsistent as it was. The red eyed man shakes and whimpers when he feels you rubbing his inner thighs. Your fingers were so close to his dick but they never touched it, merely stimulated the skin next to it. Muzan whines softly, he’s so desperate for the machine to stop or speed up, but he refuses to swallow his pride. You coo to him and gives his neck a kiss while you keep rubbing his thighs, making Muzan choke out a sob.

“P-please… anything else, bite me, cut me, hit me, spank me, just no more…” Muzan says in a shaky and whiny tone as his voice breaks at the end of his sentence. It had been agonizing, being held here and forced to continue this punishment. It made the demon king want to rip his hair out, to do anything. You hum while you continue to rub his thighs in that slow way that teases him just right. The black haired demon is practically shaking like a leaf in the wind, waiting for you to do something, to say something.

“Please! P-please…” He begs, finally, after resisting his urges for so long he finally caves. However you merely chuckles softly.

“Now, darling, why should I? You broke the rules and disobeyed me three times. Why should I give you what you want?” You murmur in his ear which causes the black haired man to whine. Muzan trembles as a fresh wave of tears spill from his ruby red eyes.

“I-I’m sorry! I’ll be good… Just.. please, please!” He begs before shuddering when he feels you trace the skin where the pump is attached. A moan slips out of him as he desperately tries to nuzzle his face into your shoulder, a habit he had picked up when the you two were intimate with each other. The human narrows their eyes slightly, as if debating to give in to the demon’s pleas. After several moments that felt like years to Muzan, the slayer finally decides. Muzan moans in relief when the slayer removes the pump from his dick but tenses up when he in laid stomach down over their thighs with his ass exposed. He knew what was coming and started to wiggle while grabbing one of the human’s hands in his own.

“W-what?! No no, please, not this!” He sobs out as he feels a strong slap on his ass. The slap leaves a pinkish handprint on his pale rear. He jolts when he feels another strong slap across his ass which makes him make a moanish yelp. Tears spill out of his red eyes as his black hair sticks to his forehead. He trembles and yelps once again when he feels another slap on his ass. He knew that the slayer was doing this on purpose, keeping from being able to hide his face in their shoulder while you punish him. He shakes when he sees you retrieve a paddle to use on his already red ass.

“N-no-” Muzan is cut off by you as you rub his perky rear with the palm of your hand.

“Count. If you mess up I’ll start over.” You say before bringing the paddle down on his ass, making him cry out and moan.

“O-one..” Another smack with the paddle is delivered.

“Ah!- Two!” More and more tears slip out of the demon king’s eyes as you repeat the action.

“Three!” Muzan moans loudly while he balls his fists. The black haired man is shaking as you continue his punishment. By the time it ends he’s a crying mess, tears staining his cheek as he is brought to sit on your thigh. You hum before pulling Muzan into a deep and passionate kiss. The demon progenitor kisses back instantly and desperately licks at your tongue. You wrap your arms around his lower back as he holds onto your shoulders with a needy urge. Muzan’s moans are muffled as you two make out, the black haired demon kisses the other like a starved man. He only pulls back when you deliver a tug on his rather sensitive dick. He pulls back and buries his face in your shoulder while moaning.

“Muzan, lay on your back.” You say with that same smirk. Muzan fumbles and almost falls face first onto the soft blankets in his rush to get into the desired position, however he’s able to lay down just how you want him to. You slide between the demon’s legs and he almost cries in relief when he feels the familiar sensation of your fingers slipping in his tight hole. He clenches down on them, trying to take them deeper and deeper while you curl and move your fingers in a scissoring motion. This makes you chuckle softly.

“Are we eager, my king?” You ask the demon in a sweet tone but don’t be mistaken, it was dripping with lust. The mere tone of your voice makes the red eyed man whimper and let out several quiet moans. He nods his head quickly, it was pitiful to see such a strong man, a demon, reduced to a mere whore. Muzan’s legs quiver slightly as he’s more sensitive from the punishments he went through. 

“Please… fuck me.” He mumbles with a far away look in his ruby red eyes. There are still tears threatening to spill over onto his already wet cheeks when you pull out your fingers. A moan slips out of Muzan when he feels you finally pushing into him. He grabs onto your back and rests his legs against your hips. You start moving your hips like a piston, making Muzan cry out loudly and cling to you as you ram in and out of his hole. He loves how you don’t treat him like glass but instead like a piece of meat. The black haired male practically screams when you start to thrust directly into his prostate. His nails dig into your back while he moans and begs loudly.

The once quiet night was now filled with obscene and explicit sounds coming from the strongest demon in existence, caused by a mere human. 

“S’good!” Muzan cries out while you shows no signs of slowing down. It was as if he was made to be the your toy, to be used like a common whore. Slowly but surely, the demon can feel the familiar feeling of a knot in his stomach. He knows that he’s close, but can’t say anything because of the force of the thrusts that he was taking.

“C-Close!-” He moans loudly, even louder than before. If any demon saw this happening, his reputation would surely be in shambles, but right now the king didn’t care, all he cared about was the pleasure that was flooding through him. Tears were sliding down his cheeks as his eyes rolled back into his head and his back arched.

“Cum for me, my king.” You say while continuing the harsh and brutal pace of your thrusts. This is all that the demon needs to hear as his coil snaps, he paints his own stomach with his seed as he screams out. However much to his surprise, you continue the pace. His body grows overstimulated and he can’t help but beg.

“P-please! I’m sensitive!-” He sobs out, tears staining his cheeks again while he clings even tighter to you as you relentlessly pound him into the mattress. You however doesn’t show any sign of stopping. He’s so pretty, his black hair sticking to his forehead with sweat, clear tears spilling from his ruby red eyes and staining his flushed cheeks. His legs are shaking badly as he keeps moaning loudly, holding onto you for dear life. 

“So needy, you wanted this, demon. You wanted me to fuck your tight little hole so badly, so take it.” You say in a condescending way. Muzan lets out loud sobs at the your words, his whole body shaking from overstimulation. He grips you tighter, desperately trying to pull you closer to him.

“Pl- please don’t be mean… J-just fuck me..” He whined out pathetically. He was just so pretty like this, overstimulated, crying and needy.

“Oh Muzan… I’m going to ruin you.” You say as he lets out another sob, legs quaking.

[lottiecrabie]

itll be you and me and this idea forever babe.. we might be alone but we Understand🤞

what if it wasn’t just us… 😌🙂‍↕️ and it entered the world through the miraculous art form that is writing by tumblr dot com user lottiecrabie 😌🙂‍↕️😏 (even just a crumblet)

for you my psychic linked sister. a little Crumb🫶

the saxophones and trumpets ring through the ballroom. the repetitive steps and roaring laughs mix through, skisloping off the kicks and twists of the t-strap shoes. the champagne flows out into a series of coupes and you grab one, spilling it on the side. you down a mouthful with a grin, still light and happy from the spinning dance you just twirled out of. 

sweat sticks your headache band to your forehead. you fix up the feather. you fish a cigarette out of the emerald elephant dispenser, placing it between your ruby red lips. your eyes scan for a lighter next. 

‘enjoying yourself?’ your ears perk up at the sound of his husky voice. you smirk, turning around to find detective healy. 

with his modest trench coat and permanently gloomy predilection, he sticks out like a sore thumb amidst the decadent decor. it’s always a little funny to see him around such open fun, like he’s meant to exist in dark, cold alleys, frowning over a body. still, he looks handsome, dark and broody, with his sober eyes and his wild flowing hair. 

you pull the cigarette from your lips with a smile. you shrug, crooning, ‘why, it’s a lovely night.’ healy searches the inside of his trench coat. ‘what about you? not too joyful for mr. grumps?’ 

he shakes his head, though a grin still teases his lips. he draws a lighter out. you lean closer to him, hanging the cigarette off your lips again. he flicks once, lighting up the tip. you exhale out the smoke, but stay near him. he smells like cedar and whiskey, like nights toasting after murders successfully solved.

healy gives you a look, shoving his lighter back in his trench coat. ‘what are you doing here, trouble?’ 

‘can’t a woman enjoy a soirée? my, if i was like you, i’d be locked up in my house all year round.’

‘you’d be safer for it.’

you smile, mischievous. ‘and your life much, much less fun.’ healy gives you a onceover, trailing on your uncovered legs. you take a sip of your champagne, drawing attention to your lips next. you give him a faux-innocent look, singsonging, ‘you know, mister briggs is an excellent charleston dancer.’ 

healy groans, rubbing his eyebrows. ‘tell me you didn’t dance with a murder suspect.’

you up your nose. ‘well, if you don’t want to know, then i guess i won’t share what he said.’ you whip around, taking two steps before a strong hand wraps around your arm. 

you don’t even bother hiding your smirk before turning around. healy gives you a somber look, demanding, ‘spill.’ the tone of his voice sizzles down your spine. 

‘is this a shakedown?’ his jaw ticks. a crystalline voice spills from your lips. ‘you’re cute when you’re annoyed.’

‘then i must be ravishing every time i’m in your company.’

your eyes spark. ‘oh, yes, you are, detective.’ healy swallows thickly, dropping his hand from your hand as if burned. you cock your head, tension still fizzling. ‘promise me a dance and i’ll tell you.’

‘a dance?’

‘oh, you do know a foxtrot, don’t you, detective healy?’

his stare burns. ‘fine.’ 

you hum, turning to look at the roaring party. ‘mister briggs has a lovely summer home in brighton. he loves to entertain his most favorite guests there. why, he just invited me,’ you catch briggs chatting up a young lady, brushing the pearl on her ear. you sigh regrettably, ‘but i’m afraid the cold sea air doesn’t agree with my predilection.’

‘brighton. where francesca would visit every month.’

‘oh yes,’ you throw him a look. your shoulders up excitedly. ‘francesca and mister briggs were having an affair. how scandalous.’ 

he grins and, oh, this might be your favorite look of his. rare but dazzling, shining over his face. he says, ‘that’s motive.’

you tsk. ‘and you didn’t even want me to dance.’ he opens his mouth to protest, but you’re too quick. your throw your coupe on the table, discarding your smoke on the elephant head. you grab his hand, cutting him off, tugging him to the dancefloor. ‘come on, you owe me one.’

‘there’s a murder suspect at large.’

‘oh, please,’ you halt in the middle of the floor; your hand on his shoulder, his finding home on your waist— no matter his protests. the touch is electric, burning through your dress. you feel wired. ‘he’s not going anywhere. this is the soirée of month, after all.’ 

matty sighs resignedly. languid jazz plays. he takes a first step, gliding across the floor. his moves are certain and precise. you follow his rhythm, pushing and pulling at his guidance. detective healy is a good dancer. what an interesting new morsel of information.

in the crook of your ear, healy whispers, ‘one day, all this frolicking with trouble will really get you in deep waters, darling.’

you lean back enough to meet his eyes. ‘then it’s lucky you’ll be there to save me, isn’t it, detective?’

[xenonluxius]

You’re Mine; Don’t Forget That - Chapter 1

Footsteps akin to the cracking of ice resounded through a crystalline hall, grand chandeliers refracting dancing speckles of light across the pale blue carpeted floor. Murmurs, drabbles of nameless humans buzzed around the single woman striding down the path with the confidence and grace of a predator. Isolated words, breathless sighs followed every bounce of her wavy amethyst hair, the tips dipped in a soft lavender hue. Sly ruby eyes glanced at her captivated audience, her eyelashes casting a web of shadows upon her almond shaded skin.

Darkwick Academy’s uniform sat like a mischievous black cat upon her lithe body, the velvety jacket unbuttoned to reveal a crisp white dress shirt underneath. The stormy gray skirt swirled around her mid thighs, matte black tights clinging to toned calves as blood red school-issued dress shoes sauntered merrily along their way. Polished black titanium glinted on their soles and armored the tips, black rubber padding the heel and front tip so as to not make much noise on hard surfaces. Small lily of the valley earrings dangled from her ears, ringing out a soft tune with every step she took, and the gold braids decorating every female uniform seemed almost teasing as they rested upon her bosom, challenging onlookers to allow their gaze to drift downward.

“The Madam Liaison is here…” Hushed whispers gaped incredulously as regular Frostheim students gazed upon the ravishing woman with a mixture of fear and reverence, their eyes skittish as they tracked her movements with anticipation. Full lips tilted upwards as the object of their attention fixed her glimmering eyes upon the hesitant onlookers, siren eyes winking as she waved a nonchalant hand. Men and women alike flushed a crimson red, some of the more faint hearted averting their eyes with a hand to their heart.

Quickly losing interest in the nameless rabble, the woman ran a deft hand through her waist-length hair, clearing strands from her field of vision as she locked on to a monocled man in the distance. “Tohma! Sorry for the wait,” she called out, her honeyed voice toughened with a bit of huskiness. It cut through all remaining whispers like a knife through butter, demanding obedience and begetting silence.

“It is no problem to me, Suzuran. Our captain, on the other hand, may not tolerate your tardiness with such magnanimity,” Tohma Ishibashi uttered as he adjusted his monocle, organizing a stack of papers nestled in his left arm. Despite his blunt words, there was a hint of humor in his eyes as he dipped into a shallow bow, gesturing for Suzuran to place her hand into his palm. Politely kissing the back of her hand, Tohma straightened up and let go. “I wish you all the best in dealing with our problematic captain.”

“What're you talking about? You're going in with me, Tohma. I'm not the one carrying the investigation report,” Suzuran said with a dramatic hand to her heart, spinning on her heel as she began to lead the way to Frostheim’s captain's quarters.

“Of course. You cannot be trusted to give a satisfactory report,” Tohma scolded. “Left to your own devices, you would simply hand him the papers and leave, and you know that the captain would proceed to burn those papers because he couldn't be bothered to read them.”

“I would be hurt at the fact that you have so little faith in me… if I weren't fully aware that it's the truth,” Suzuran chuckled, a seductive sound that had had every poor passerby student in the vicinity flushed and flustered.

“I am thankful of your self awareness,” Tohma commented dryly as they stopped in front of an elaborately decorated wooden door. With zero hesitation, Tohma pushed open the heavy slabs of wood, then stepped aside to allow Suzuran in first.

“Thank you,” she nodded in appreciation, then focused her attention on the man sprawled on the couch on the other side of the room. “Jin! Guess who came to make sure you don't truly morph into a vampire?” Suzuran trilled as she strolled further in, completely ignoring the stirring albino as she flung open the curtains. “It's noon, captain. Wake up and smell the damn roses, you incorrigible man,” she huffed as she tied the curtains up, keeping them ajar.

“Shut the hell up… The sun’s too damn bright,” Jin Kamurai groaned as he covered his eyes with his forearm, his free hand searching blindly for his pack of cigarettes. “Close the fucking curtains and leave, woman.”

“As much as I would love to preserve my mental wellbeing by staying far away from this musty dump of a room, we both know that you simply cannot live without me. And I, the generous person that I am, am willing to set aside therapy in order to make sure you don't send yours to the hospital,” Suzuran drawled as she snatched the wayward cigarettes from the coffee table next to Jin's couch. Lazy ruby eyes regarded the unopened paper box with undisguised disdain, a sigh dragging itself out of her cherry lips as she tore the seal open. Popping one out, she tossed the rest of the pack towards Tohma as she dug into her skirt pocket to grab a lighter.

“I'll send you to the damn hospital if you don't shut that insolent mouth of yours up,” Jin growled, lowering his arm to glare balefully at Suzuran, a leg dangling off the edge of the couch as the other lay across the couch. His white dress shirt, full of unrealized potential to be crisply pressed and unwrinkled, lay like a crumpled tissue across his toned body - two buttons rendered unused, the collar of the shirt ajar to reveal unmarred jade skin and a polished silver necklace. Snowy hair tipped in winter blue hung over his spiteful eyes, only to be combed back with a veiny hand.

“You wound me,” Suzuran quipped, lighting the cigarette and approaching Jin from behind, a hand resting on the couch's wooden frame as she leaned over Jin's head to bring the lit tobacco to his lips. A cheeky grin settled on her lips as soft tendrils of her lavender hair wafted around Jin's face, encapsulating him in a cage of those silken strands. “I'll need compensation for dealing with your bullshit all the time,” she chuckled as he grumpily snatched the cigarette from her fingers, smacking her hand away and breathing in a long drag from the cancer stick.

“Stop stalling and get to the point. Tohma, quit your lurking and come here,” Jin ordered as he lifted his gaze to the ceiling and cushioned his head with a hand, the cigarette limply hanging from his lips as a trail of smoke rose mesmerizingly from its embers.

“I was simply awaiting permission to step foot within your pristine sanctuary,” Tohma uttered smoothly as he stepped forward, stopping a few feet away from the couch as Suzuran stepped away from the moody captain, opting to lurk near the doors in hopes that she could slip away in time for the cafeteria lunch sale.

“Bullshit,” Jin muttered as he closed his eyes, a prominent wrinkle appearing on his brow.

Says you, Suzuran snorted to herself as she turned towards the doorway, then paused as she noticed a timid face peeking hesitantly through the parted doors. Round hazel eyes widened as she noticed the beauty's gaze, a blush of embarrassment dusting the brunette's cheeks. “Who might you be?” Suzuran asked gently, a soft smile brightening her face as she held one of the doors open for the shorter girl.

“Pardon me… I've come to introduce myself to Frostheim's captain at the Chancellor’s request,” the girl said, her fingers fiddling nervously with a button on her blazer as she looked into Suzuran's ruby eyes with no small amount of awe.

“Introduce… Oh, you must be the honor student that the Chancellor was talking about at the entrance ceremony! I caught a glimpse of your cute face from a distance, but I must say that you're absolutely adorable up close,” Suzuran gushed as she reached down to clasp the honor student's left hand between her own, lifting it up with a wide grin.

“C-cute!? Such flattering words are wasted on me,” the brunette denied vehemently, her blush growing even as her nervousness shrank due to the other woman's overflowing goodwill.

“Your modesty makes you even cuter-” Suzuran insisted before a resounding crash interrupted her and caused the brunette to violently jump, a disgruntled sigh escaping Suzuran's mouth at Jin’s following words.

“Who the fuck are you?” he demanded, a glare akin to a freshly sharpened dagger piercing through the distance between the two men and women.

“Show some decency,” Suzuran scowled as she raised an arm to shield the honor student from his ire. “That's no way to talk to someone, and you know it.”

“Like I give a damn. Tohma, use a match on the intruder,” Jin ordered as he took another drag from his cigarette.

This little fucker- Suzuran cursed inwardly even as a strained smile forced its way to her face, stopping Tohma on his tracks with a wave of her hand. “If you ever left your glorified man cave, you would know that the matches don't work on her. A curse, apparently,” she elaborated, knowing that the captain wouldn't know about the curse.

“A curse, huh?” Jin muttered as he stood up, grabbing his jacket from the back of the couch and throwing it over his shoulders as he strode towards the two women.

Just wear the damn thing like a normal person… Suzuran deadpanned before her thoughts were disrupted by Jin's foot slamming into the door behind them. The honor student quaked in fear as Suzuran simply gazed into her captain's eyes with disdain.

“I've had enough of your mouth, Suzuran. My room has anomalous soundproofing,” Jin growled lowly, leaning forward so that the cigarette hanging from his lips drew dangerously close to Suzuran's own lips. “No matter what I do to you two… no matter how much you scream and cry, nobody's gonna hear you.”

“I could say the same thing to you,” Suzuran shot back challengingly, her mouth twisted into a mocking smile and her chin tilted up as she stared down her captain with smoldering fury in the ruby depths of her eyes.

A wolf with fangs of fire and a tiger with claws of ice clashed within the spacious room, the tension between them weighing down like a boulder upon the two other people unfortunate enough to be in the same space. After a heartbeat more, Jin lowered his leg and spun around, his footsteps echoing into the space growing between him and his liaison.

“I never want to see your faces in here again. Same goes for you, Tohma,” he ordered, dropping onto his couch and resuming his recline, the arm thrown across his eyes a clear indication of his desire to have them gone.

“Suzuran, if you would,” Tohma whispered into her ear, somehow materializing beside her with a hand on the handle of the door.

“I know. See you later, Tohma. Miss Honor Student, let's go,” Suzuran bade, a gentle hand on the brunette's back as they retreated from the source of the migraine quickly making its presence known within the crown of Suzuran's head.

Fuck you too, Kamurai.

[amoebaforce]

Cat/Mouse

Part 4 of 4 (Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3)

After a string of bold thefts rocks the Edenite art scene, veteran hunter Nadine picks up the bounty of a lifetime. Fifty thousand credits, just to capture the elusive thief and bring her in alive. It should be an easy job... but one look at her mark tells Nadine she might have bitten off more than she can chew. On a space station full of secret dealings, dirty money, and luxurious lies, it seems even the simplest contracts are prone to complication. tags: violence, blood, strangulation, graphic language

Nadine stood a good long second over Web’s shuddering body, ears ringing like she’d detonated a mine. She could hardly catch her breath, blood hot in her veins, mind roaring with a strange mix of glee and rage. If she had more time, she’d hit him again. She’d break his other thumb to match, she’d kick him in the–

“Nadine,” a fuzzy voice called. “Nadine!”

A small lilac hand found the crook of her arm. Ulu’zah breezed into view, all four eyes awash with tears. Nadine felt all the air rush out of her lungs. The ringing faded into vast, empty silence.

“We need to go,” the thief said, voice thin and unsure.

Nadine knew she was right. But before that, there was something she needed to do.

“Deactivate your virus,” she told Ulu’zah.

“Huh?”

“The worm you got spoofin’ the cameras. Turn it off. I’ve got a guy in the system; he’s gonna need to see.”

Ulu’zah hesitated, then gave a short nod and pulled a handheld processor from her bag. As she tapped the screen, Nadine felt her earpiece crackle.

“Nadine, what– Oh shit.” Xerxes uttered a long sigh. Nadine could almost see him rubbing his temples, eyes slicing between the Diralith on her arm and the male on the floor. “Alright, change of plans, I guess.”

Nadine shot the camera a knowing look, then shoved her feet back in her shoes and jerked her thumb toward the door.

“Right,” Xerxes said flatly. “I can guide you toward the exit, but the staff is already nearing the vault.”

The lock unsealed with a click. Nadine took Ulu’zah’s hand, trying and failing not to notice how soft and cool it was in hers. The two shared a quiet glance, and then they were running. Web shouted out behind them, but the slam of the door cut his voice in two, leaving nothing but footsteps and labored breathing to fill the empty air.

“First right,” Xerxes reported. “Down the steps. Second left.”

Nadine whispered his instructions aloud, and Ulu’zah followed. Half a minute in, a distant cry echoed through the metal halls, and each overhead light turned sickly red as the alarm began to wail. Nadine gritted her teeth and ushered Ulu’zah down a narrow corridor.

“Sorry ‘bout the noise, baby,” the hunter muttered.

Ulu’zah’s brow crumpled, but she said nothing.

“Guards coming by,” Xerxes warned sharply.

Nadine slowed to a stop. Wordlessly, she took Ulu’zah by the shoulders and backed her into a shallow alcove, pressing her to the wall just as a veritable platoon of armed guards rushed past the end of the passageway.

Chest to chest, gazes locked, nervous systems wired, it felt like neither of them could breathe. It wasn’t just the adrenaline — it was the closeness, too. The scent of each other’s skin, the heat of their bodies. How long had it been since they’d touched like this? Eight, nine days? With all that had happened since then, it may as well have been a lifetime. 

Nadine lifted her hand to Ulu’zah’s face, too swept up to think better of it, and the thief flinched as if expecting a slap. Nadine tasted bile. Anger swelled inside her, but she forced it away. There would come a time, gods willing, when she could fix this. When she could help Ulu’zah get her revenge. But first, they had to survive this. So Nadine stroked her thumb along the little thief’s cheek and wiped away a crystalline tear. Under the strobing crimson light, it glistened like a sharp-cut ruby.

Ulu’zah finally exhaled, softening into the touch just a little. She searched Nadine’s face, delicate features creased with confusion, yet there was no rejection in her icy blue eyes. Just that same quiet sadness as before. Under all the noise, she whispered:

“I changed my mind.”

Nadine smiled. “Easy way?”

Ulu’zah bobbed her head. “Easy way.”

The last of the guards hurried past them, and Xerxes chimed in once more.

“Give it two more seconds, then hang a left. Go seventy-five feet, and you’ll find an exit door. But you need to hurry, Nadine — if you don’t get out before they sweep the basement, you’ll be locked in.”

The hunter swore under her breath, and Ulu’zah shot her a questioning glance.

“We gotta make a break for it, and we gotta make it soon” Nadine explained, urging the thief back into action.

She didn’t need much urging. Ulu’zah moved with newfound vigor as they rounded the corner, silent and focused as she ran to keep pace with the taller female. Just as Xerxes said, the pair spotted a thick metal door awaiting them — but it was clear at once that he’d neglected to mention a vital detail.

“Damn!” Nadine hissed, heart sinking at the sight of another numbered keypad.

Xerxes swore, too. “What the– I don’t have a passcode on file! This is supposed to be a standard lock. Shit– Try the one from before. Two-seven-three-six-nine-four-one-nine.”

Nadine did as she was told, breathing slowly in an effort to keep her cool, but when the little screen flashed red, she uttered another foul word.

“What’s wrong?” Ulu’zah asked, voice tight with worry.

“Don’t have the code.”

A smirk tugged at the Diralith’s lips. “Is that all?”

She pulled out her processor for a second time, along with a laser cutter the size and shape of a pen. In seconds, she’d sliced through the metal casing and yanked out the computer’s innards, fingers deft from frequent practice. Ulu’zah rearranged some wires, plugged her processor into the lock, and activated a familiar-looking program.

“That little thing can break a lock?” Nadine remarked, keeping watch over their flanks.

“All the new ones can, if you know how to write the code,” Ulu’zah said.

Nadine huffed to herself, a reply sparking on her tongue, but the slamming of a nearby door took the snark right out of her mouth. She and Ulu’zah exchanged urgent looks. 

“Two incoming,” Xerxes said, voice tight. Nadine might have thought him concerned, but she’d worked for him long enough to know better.

“Ulu–” Nadine started.

“Just a few more seconds,” the thief murmured back, fingers hovering over the cords. “Come on, come on…”

A flash of green and a tiny beep. Ulu’zah tore the processor from the lock just as the tip of a boot emerged from a side corridor that was far, far too close. Nadine reached over Ulu’zah and ripped open the door, practically steering the thief forward to get them outside faster. The females tumbled out into a dark alleyway. Nadine slammed the partition shut again, ignoring the rising outcry behind them, and together they rushed for the main thoroughfare. There, they could blend into the bystanders, slip into another alley–

But as they rounded the corner, all semblance of Nadine’s plan crumbled to dust. She and Ulu’zah skidded to a halt, suddenly face-to-face with three hulking males, dressed in black and packing a pistol each. Xerxes swore in her ear. Ulu’zah let out a clipped scream as Nadine stepped between her and the newcomers.

“This is bad,” Xerxes said. Nadine could hear him typing in the background. “Very, very bad.”

Yeah, no kidding. The hunter’s mind raced a thousand miles a second, running through all of their options. They were barely outside the alley; turning back meant facing the auction guards and the police. Going forward meant tangling with deadly weapons. The odds were shit, either way.

The tallest male, a brutish-looking Uroki, grinned as he read the look on her face.

“Well, lookee here,” he drawled, malice glittering in his amber irises. “You find yourself a friend, little Twig?”

Nadine knew that name — she’d seen it before, on that data packet. So it wasn’t nonsense, after all. It was Ulu’zah’s call sign.

“Piss off, Lake!” the Diralith snapped. Her words were resolute, but the quake in her voice betrayed her.

“Forget the plan,” Xerxes exclaimed. “I’m calling the Feds.”

Anger throbbed through Nadine’s head. After all this time, all this work, Xerxes wanted her to give up? No way — no fucking way. She was going to finish this tonight, one way or another.

“Hey now,” Nadine said, just a little too loud. “There ain’t no need to get all hostile.”

Xerxes audibly bristled. “Nadine? What the hell are you doing?”

She took a step forward and lifted her palms. This was a desperate bid, based on an awful lot of wishful thinking, but damn was she ready to gamble.

The Uroki called Lake cocked his brow. “Hostile? Nobody’s hostile here, ‘cept maybe the traitor hiding behind you.”

“Good,” Nadine said. “Good. Maybe now we can talk a little business.”

He smirked. “You wanna talk business with me, hunter?”

She smirked back. “Nah — I ain’t got time to be chattin’ with alleyway thugs like you, Lake. I wanna talk to the bastard you work for.”

Lake’s lips twitched into a snarl. Behind Nadine, Ulu’zah went stiff. Xerxes stuttered some shocked string of syllables, with not a lick of sense between them. 

“Well then, I guess it’s your lucky fuckin’ day,” Lake said.

And as if conjured, a glossy black shuttle came rolling down the darkened street behind him. The thing was luxury incarnate — fully tinted windows, chrome trim, kitten-purr engine — but to Nadine, it might as well have been a hearse. Her stomach cartwheeled inside her. She’d planned to drag this out a little, give herself some time to think, but it seemed she wouldn’t get the chance.

Ulu’zah inched closer as the shuttle stopped, her breaths coming sharp and quick. Nadine reached back to lay a hand on the thief’s arm. Lake and the other goons stepped aside, and the shuttle door opened on silent hinges, revealing a palatial cabin done up in shades of black and red. Two wide bench seats framed the cabin — one empty, and the other occupied entirely by an enormous male in a cream-white suit.

Their faces were obscured by the open door, but Nadine knew who they were. She could feel it in the way Ulu’zah froze.

“Get in,” Lake grunted, gesturing to the open door with the tip of his gun. “Time to go for a ride.”

Xerxes inhaled sharply.

“Nadine, forget the plan. The Feds are coming — stall or run, but do not get in that shuttle. I know you want to finish this, I know you want to help that girl, but–”

Nadine saw red. Jaw flexing, she plucked the comm from her ear and tossed it aside. The trio of lackeys didn’t seem to notice, but oh, Ulu’zah saw. Her palm found the center of Nadine’s back, fingers trembling like leaves. 

“Alrighty then,” the hunter replied aloud. “C’mon, sugar.”

She urged Ulu’zah to stand at her side, saying under her breath:

“Keep ahold of that bag.”

Ulu’zah just gulped, her expression crumpling like a paper bag. Nadine almost grimaced. But Ulu’zah’s knuckles went obediently tight around her pack, and in her glassy eyes flickered something deadly and all-too-familiar. If the thief was going down, she was taking someone with her. Nadine just hoped it wasn’t going to be her.

She helped Ulu’zah into the shuttle, glaring daggers at the leering males until she finally ducked her head through the door. It was like entering a cave made of silk — complete with a monster lurking within. There he was, seven feet of muscle and sinew swathed in pure-white scales, all leading up to an angular, reptilian face adorned with membranous frills. Rock.

Once, a long time ago, a crewman from a merchant freighter told Nadine a story about white-scaled Vaxxori. They were rare, hatched from only one in 1,000 eggs, and that made them deeply auspicious. Females were prized for their beauty and desired as wives, while males were bestowed titles and powerful positions of authority. In fact, as the tipsy sailor told it, the commander of Vaxxor was himself a white-scaled male, as were most of his closest advisors.

Back then, Nadine didn’t want to believe it. The whole idea recalled some of Terra’s most heinous histories, and that left a bad taste in her mouth. Surely regular, modern people didn’t really think that way, regardless of where they came from. But now, sitting across from one such “gods-favored” male, Nadine appraised the look in his small, golden eyes, and she changed her mind.

Rock smiled. His teeth were razor-sharp. “Well, well — if it isn’t Nadine Haylea, bounty huntress extraordinaire.”

Heart pounding in her chest, Nadine slung her arm around Ulu’zah’s shoulders as the shuttle lifted away from the curb. Time to cast the dice.

“And you must be Rock,” she replied. “Just the guy I wanted to see.”

His nostrils widened in amusement.

“You’ve been quite the busy bee lately,” Rock told her. “Accosting my forger, levying threats against my organization, smashing my teleporter, punching my favorite employee… Am I meant to believe you’ve done all this just to get my attention?”

Nadine gave a tiny shrug. “You’re a hard man to get ahold of, Rock. Pullin’ a few stunts seemed faster than writin’ you a letter.”

She read his face, seeking something, anything, that might key her in to his thoughts. Even the smallest insight would help — a twitch of the mouth, a squint of the eye — but there was nothing to see. Rock was calm as could be. She had not so much as chipped the veneer of his contempt.

And yet… a non-reaction was still a reaction. He was comfortable; unconcerned. Rock unclasped his hands with a dry chuckle.

“You have me now, huntress. Tell me, what message could possibly be so urgent?”

Nadine stole a glance at the Diralith to her side. She sat with her feet together and her arms crossed, gaze glued to the floor, body so still that she might not have been breathing, but each tendril curling back from her temples shuddered with terror. Nadine stroked a furtive thumb over her shoulder.

“It’s real simple, really,” Nadine said. “From where I’m sittin’, we each got somethin’ the other wants. I just wanna settle our books.”

His demeanor went a little sharp. It was intrigue, or maybe murderous instinct. Nadine wasn’t sure — his features were still too new to her eyes.

“Holding my product hostage, are we?” Rock sighed to himself. “Very well — I shall entertain you a moment. What would you ask for it? A few million credits? A crate of palladium bars? Perhaps the deed to a mining asteroid, while you’re at it.”

Despite her knotted gut, Nadine forced out an easy laugh, shaking her head like they were old friends shooting the shit.

“Gee, that’s mighty tempting, Rock, but it really ain’t like that. See, I want to give the pitcher back — honest, I do. That’s why I’m only askin’ for one little thing.”

“And what, precisely, is that?”

Nadine settled deeper in her seat, knees spread wide. “Ulu’zah.”

She might as well have told him to fuck himself. Rock’s eyes went dangerously narrow, and a silent Ulu’zah shivered against Nadine’s arm.

“You… wouldn’t know what to do with her,” Rock said slowly, like he had to roll each word over his tongue before he spat them out. 

“I’m sure I’ll figure it out,” Nadine replied.

Now Rock’s grin twisted into a snarl. “You really think I’d give up my best asset in exchange for some little clay trinket, huntress?”

“No — I think you’re an entrepreneur. I think you’d release an unhappy employee from their contract in exchange for an ancient vase worth ten times her debt.”

Rock’s pupils dilated, and for just a moment, he almost looked impressed under all the seething rage. He flexed his hands in his lap.

Probably practicing how he’s gonna throttle me, Nadine thought bleakly.

As if he’d heard her, Rock said, “Why should I bother? I could kill you right here, and no one would ever know.”

Nadine had been asking herself that same question. Luckily, she’d already found an answer.

“I mean, you could kill me,” she agreed, “but I reckon the mess wouldn’t be worth the effort. Steam-cleaning the seats, bleaching the fixtures… and that’s only if you manage to outrun the Feds.”

Rock went still as a statue, blinking for the very first time since Nadine sat down. Now that she knew the look of his anger, she could pinpoint the moment it shifted into rage.

“The Feds?” the Vaxxori repeated thickly. “You’re gonna call the Feds on me?”

Nadine shook her head. “I don’t want to. But if you kill me, this here gadget will do it for me.” She pointed to the thick, steel belt buckle under her navel. “Don’t know how it works, really. Some business with micromachines and heartbeat sensors.”

The Vaxxori’s stare was like gravity: a crushing weight against her form, trying to fold her small and grind her to dust. But Nadine wouldn’t break so easily. She let her knees slide even wider. Rock growled and snapped his head toward Ulu’zah instead, hoping to find a softer target.

“And what of you, little Twig?” he barked. “Do you have anything to say on this matter? Or are you just going to let this Terran filth steal you away from me? Me, the male who picked you out of the gutter, fed you, housed you — the male who turned a helpless wretch into a peerless artist, the envy of enterprises galaxy-wide?”

“You’re wrong,” Ulu’zah said, clear and resonant as a silver bell.

Rock’s pupils swallowed the gold of his eyes. 

“What?”

Ulu’zah lifted her head and repeated, louder this time, “You’re wrong. You didn’t make me an artist, Rock. I did that myself.”

“Twig–”

“You hear me? I did that!” Anger stained her every word. “It’s my education, my talent! You might’ve gotten me out of that cell on Pivarri, but it wasn’t because you wanted to save me. You just wanted to put me in a different kind of prison.”

“Why you–”

Rock bared his teeth, but Ulu’zah shook her head at him, a wild courage throbbing through her eyes. Now she was yelling.

“No! No, you’re not gonna ignore me this time, Rock! You’re not gonna lock me in my room or punish me. You’re gonna shut up and listen. I’m done. Understand? Done with the lying, the stealing, the hiding — done with you. And if you don’t wanna spend the rest of your miserable life in a Federation hell-hole, you’d better take our fucking deal.”

The silence that followed was a dire thing. Nadine’s breath slowed, her body preparing itself for whatever came after this. A fist, or a foot, or maybe a knife… But Rock was motionless as the side of a cliff, and Ulu’zah’s glare was the water come to erode him.

Pride swelled in Nadine’s chest.

Holy crap, she thought. This might actually work. 

Then Rock smiled, and her whole body flashed cold instead.

“So it’s true,” he hummed. “You’ve actually fallen for the huntress.”

Ulu’zah’s cheeks flushed violet as she sucked in an indignant gasp. She lurched forward like she was going to hit him, but Nadine read the tension in her knees and grabbed her before she gave him a reason to react.

“Oh, screw you!” Ulu’zah shrieked, wriggling to be free.

Nadine wanted to agree, but her heart was beating too fast for words, thrashing like a bird with a broken wing. Why the hell would Rock say that? Just to get under Ulu’zah’s skin? Or maybe just to piss Nadine off. But if that was his goal… Well, he’d failed rather spectacularly. The Terran cleared her throat.

“Alright, that’s enough,” she said coolly. “You heard the lady — void her contract, take your pitcher, and we can all be on our merry ways. Unless you really wanna try your luck with the cops.”

Rock considered her for the briefest moment. Nostrils twitching, eyes shining.

“I think I’ll take my chances.”

And then, he pounced.

Nadine never could recall what happened next. One second, she was in her seat, holding Ulu’zah’s arms with both hands. The next, she was pinned to the cabin floor, ears ringing from an open-palmed slap to the face. Rock’s thick fingers caught her by the throat as pain bloomed across her jaw. Somewhere behind his hulking form, Ulu’zah screamed.

“Terrans,” the Vaxxori spat, face twisted in a ghastly grin. “You all think you’re so damned special. Exceptions to every rule, heroes in every story… Well, let me remind you of your true place in this universe, Nadine Haylea.”

Rock brought the back of his hand across her other cheek, and blood pooled behind Nadine’s teeth. She gurgled and sputtered, clawing fruitlessly at the palm around her neck as her eyesight spotted and blurred. 

“You are worse than worthless. You are insignificant. Inconsequential. I am superior to you in every conceivable way. I could crush you under my heel in an instant, as easy as killing an insect.”

Nadine coughed a mist of crimson over Rock’s knuckles, her mind a raging torrent.

Stay calm, it scolded her. Think rationally. Keep your airway clear. Wait for a chance to get free. Stay calm, stay calm, stay calm.

But Ulu’zah was still screaming, still pleading, beating her fists against the plane of Rock’s back, and the sound flooded Nadine’s veins with a dark and primal urge — like a wolf’s howl forcing a reply from its pack.

“You’re so fulla shit, Rock,” the hunter wheezed, anger taking hold of her. “You ain’t a mob boss; you’re a playground bully in a nice suit.”

With a guttural roar, Rock lifted Nadine by the throat and bashed her back down. Stars danced through her vision, and the rush of air past her lips only pulled his fingers tighter around her windpipe. Ulu’zah fell to her knees.

“Please,” she begged. “Take the pitcher. Take me. I won’t leave you. I’ll do whatever you say. I’ll take more jobs, extend my contract — I’ll even keep my door open! Just please, please don’t kill her!”

Rock smirked. “You must be confused, little Twig. Negotiations are over.”

He turned his head a fraction of an inch, just enough to look in Ulu’zah’s eyes, to see the devastation written there inside them — but that was all the distraction Nadine needed. She took a handful of his shirt collar and pulled, channeling every fiber of her power into an upward thrust of the knees. Her patellas met the center of Rock’s stomach; pain exploded from both sides. Rock’s breath fizzled from his lungs. Shock slackened his body and uncurled his fingers, and Nadine seized the moment to heave him to the side and sidle out from his murderous clutches.

She vaulted to her feet and spat a glob of blood onto the carpet. Rock staggered as he panted around his fangs, face etched with molten fury. Ulu’zah scrambled to the farthest corner, narrowly avoiding a gratuitous swing of the Vaxxori’s tail, and pressed her back to the wall.

“Wrong again,” Nadine said. She raised her fists before her. “We’re just gettin’ started.”

Rock curled his lips at her and took a heavy step forward.

“Think you can win?” he asked.

Nadine shook her head. “Nope. But I don’t have to.”

She expected him to question her, to ponder her meaning, but Rock was unfazed. He laughed like a crazed hyena and wound back a left hook. Nadine weaved to the side as it sailed past her, then ducked beneath a right jab, air whistling viciously past her head. Shit, was he strong. Catching one of those might knock her cold, or worse.

All the more reason not to get hit.

She was smaller than him, and mercifully quicker — and, even better, Rock’s fighting was heavy, imprecise. He wasn’t used to his victims striking back. She could work with that. Reading the arc of his swings, Nadine dodged a third blow, then a fourth, keeping herself balanced on the balls of her feet.

“Why are you doing this?” Rock asked, as if voicing a thought aloud. “Risking your career, your reputation, your very life, and for what — a pathetic vector from an indigent, backwater planet?”

These were rhetorical questions, wholly disinterested in real answers, but Nadine offered one anyway.

“I care about her.”

Rock tossed her a cruel snort, followed by an even-crueler fist. Nadine dodged it by the width of a hair, heart skipping as his scales glittered past her nose. She swore under her breath.

Where the hell was her backup? Sure, it always took a few minutes for the Feds to get off their asses, but the main station was only a mile away. Nadine could’ve walked there by now. Could’ve taken Ulu inside, tucked her somewhere safe, far from all the rancor and the violence and the fear… Could’ve made sure Rock would never see her again.

That wretched heat boiled through her again — the same she felt that night in the alley, watching Web grab Ulu’s arm. Nadine bared her teeth and slid under another hook, then let the rage explode. The sole of her dress shoe crashed into the back of Rock’s knee. He shouted a curse as he lost his balance, and when he caught himself on the edge of the bench, his claws ripped long gashes through its velvet plush.

“Enough of this,” he hissed.

Rock threw himself at her once more, snapping his jaw like a rabid dog. Nadine lurched back, tried to duck, but she was no match for a Vaxxori scorned. Rock caught her throat in his palm and slammed her all the way back to the cabin floor, then pinned her down with a knee to each elbow. Nadine’s joints cracked and popped under the weight, forcing out a ragged scream.

“I should have done this right at the start,” Rock told her. “Nipped you in the bud. Oh, well — lesson learned.”

And he squeezed, and squeezed, harder than Nadine thought possible, and for longer, too, until the edges of the world were black and foggy. Until Ulu’s frantic pleas went silent. Until, suddenly, there came a loud cry and a cacophonous shattering. The hand around Nadine’s throat went limp. Fell away.

Nadine sucked in a big, beautiful breath, and it felt like the first one she’d ever taken. She coughed and sputtered and shoved Rock’s heavy form, and he slid almost-limply onto the floor beside her. Adrenaline shivered through her as she pulled herself to her hands and knees. 

All around her were broken shards of pottery, all glazed in beige and white, some spattered with viscous flecks of red. Nadine blinked once, then twice. The pitcher — it was broken, but how? It was packed away… 

But crumpled nearby was a familiar paper wrapping, and above it a vision of sublime wrath: Ulu’zah, steel-faced and slow-breathing, gaze fixed tranquilly upon her handiwork. Nadine’s jaw slipped loose. She gulped, and her entire upper half burned with pain. Her groan seemed to shake the Diralith from a trance.

“Oh,” she whispered, brow crumpling down at Nadine. “Are you okay?”

The hunter nodded. “I’ll live.”

That seemed to calm some nerve within Ulu’zah. She nodded, giving the cabin a determined scan.

“Right. Gotta land this thing.”

Nadine agreed and inched a little further from Rock’s twitching body. She could tell by the half-words sloshing in his throat that he was only stunned — and she didn’t want to be anywhere near him when that inevitably changed. Behind her, Ulu’zah ran her hands along the walls until she found a seam, then pried open a little door to reveal a blinking control panel. After a second of silent study, she pressed a few buttons and Nadine felt the shuttle start to descend.

Precocious relief thudded through her. She sighed and mopped her brow with the back of her wrist.

“Holy shit,” she muttered. Then, “You broke the art.”

Ulu’zah blew out a disbelieving laugh. “Yeah, well… it was that or nothing, I guess.”

Nothing wasn’t really the right word, but all of the better ones were too big, too thorny to lay comfortably on a tongue. Maybe their mouths would grow to fit them someday; maybe they would not. Nadine didn’t know.

“Thanks,” she said instead.

A phantom smile echoed across Ulu’zah’s face. She turned away, feigning a glance at the controls, and her bitten lips parted around a reply, but an abrupt siren-wail broke the moment in two. This time, the females sighed in unison.

“Oh, I never thought I’d be happy to hear that sound,” Ulu’zah said.

The shuttle found solid ground and whirred to a stop, and the single siren split into a chorus, surrounding them at every angle. A voice blared through a nearby megaphone, making some demand Nadine couldn’t quite make out. All the noise shook Rock even closer to consciousness. Growling and muttering, he groped a hand across the floor, looking for a person to kill or a weapon to do it with. Nadine was on her feet before he raised his head.

“That’s our cue,” she chirped.

Ulu’zah slapped the panel, and the hatch released with a tiny puff of air. Now the megaphone-voice was clear as day.

“All occupants must exit the shuttle now! Come out with your hands up! Slowly! Palms open!”

With one last nod exchanged, the pair stepped out into a swirl of chaos — blinding spotlights, screaming alarms, flashing lights in a hundred hues of red, and maybe six dozen weapons trained right at their hearts. The bossy Fed instructed them to step away from the door. When they obeyed, a half-dozen bodies in padded armor rushed inside the cabin, ready to take the real prize. An unfortunate task. Rock was already roaring again.

An agent shuffled Nadine and Ulu’zah back to the makeshift perimeter, and from the crowd stepped a stocky Terran male with olive skin and a mane of silver curls. He lifted a ring-studded hand to pluck the cigar from between his lips. For the first time in Nadine’s life, the grassy smell of vetiver made her smile.

“Xerxes,” she gasped, hands falling back to her sides.

“Let me guess,” Ulu’zah said. “The voice in your ear?”

Xerxes sauntered a little closer, eyeing the smaller female up and down. “In the flesh. And you must be the illustrious Ulu’zah.” His attention sliced back to Nadine and the quick-spreading bruises on her face. “You alright?”

Nadine grunted. “Been better.”

“Hmph. The price of heroics, I suppose.”

Ulu’zah crossed one arm across her chest, feet shuffling as though she were fighting to keep them in place. She cast the bounty broker a wary look.

“Are you going to arrest me now?” she blurted. 

Xerxes considered her for a slow second. Nadine could only imagine what swirled there in his mind — ironies without measure, fallacies beyond reckoning, quips hitherto uninvented. But the male’s little smirk was shockingly malice-free.

“Not me,” he answered. “The Feds… soon as they’re done with that, anyway.”

Xerxes tipped his head toward the shuttle, where four burly agents were half-carrying, half-dragging Rock onto the pavement. Trailing just behind were the other two Feds, nursing jaws and arms that must’ve caught his stray fists. The now-handcuffed Vaxxori swore and gnashed his maw, trying to shoulder-check the agents against the walls, thrashing like a salmon in a net — but against so many equitably sized foes, the effort was entirely wasted.

Ulu’zah took one look and burst into tears.

“Oh, Dirax– Oh, oh…”

She wobbled a half-step backward, right into Nadine’s open arms. The agents shoved Rock into a prison craft, and Ulu’zah turned, crushing herself into the hunter’s broad chest. Her fingers laced themselves under Nadine’s blood-spattered collar.

“Hey, it’s alright,” Nadine told her. “It’s okay. I’m right here.”

She snaked her arms around Ulu’zah’s back, ignoring the arch of Xerxes’ brows. She was in for a lecture later — probably worse, if she was being honest — but in that moment, Nadine didn’t care. All that mattered was the female wrapped around her.

“I can’t believe it,” Ulu’zah wept. “It’s over. It’s… over.”

Nadine held her a little tighter. “You’re safe, Ulu. He’ll never hurt you again.”

Ulu’zah’s crying pitched a little higher, then crumbled into deep, open sobs. Xerxes grimaced and busied himself with a passing agent, ordering them to do some inane task or another, if only to look at someone else. It was all the same to Nadine. She let Ulu’zah’s sorrow soak her jacket, her shirt, all the way down to her goose-fleshed skin. And when Ulu’zah sighed and wiped her eyes, murmuring a quiet thank-you, Nadine cupped her dampened cheek in one palm.

Even now, under these frenetic lights, with her swollen eyes and disheveled clothes, she was a devastating beauty. It was incomprehensible. Uncanny. Nadine drifted her thumb across Ulu’zah’s lower lip.

“I’m riding to the station with you,” she told her.

“You don’t have to,” Ulu’zah replied quietly.

“I want to. ‘Sides, I gotta give them a statement… and probably my clothes, too.”

The Diralith managed a thin chuckle, tracing an absentminded circle on the back of Nadine’s neck.

“Alright.” A pause. “Did you… Did you mean what you told him, Nadine? Do you really care about me?”

A nameless feeling seized her then, turned her reckless and brash.

“It’s the truth,” Nadine said. “I care about you. And it’s not ‘cause you’re pretty, or ‘cause I’m tryin’ to pull one over on you. I mean, you are pretty, but that’s not what I’m talkin’ about. It’s like… I look at you, and I see everything at once. The past, the future, all these possibilities just floating around. Ugh, I don’t even know if this makes any sense–”

But Ulu’zah cut her off. “It does.”

And with the barest downward urge, she pulled Nadine into a lush, unhurried kiss. Every cell in her body rippled at once. Surprise melted into delight, streamed through her veins, pooled in every neglected corner of the vessel she was. Her hand slotted perfectly into the small of Ulu’zah’s back. She closed her eyes, letting each sense drown one by one. The universe shrank, retracted, until this was all there was — until everything was a single shade of purple.

[crystalrune77]

Shatter Chapter 7: In The Radiance of Crystal

The seventh chapter to my first multichaptered ffxiv fanfic.

Excerpt from chapter:

The way the firelight gilds one side of his face, catching in one ruby eye, calm soft crystalline blue illuminating the rest of his face in diffuse shadows has Y'sato's heart flutter in his chest. In this moment he looks so beautiful, so transcendent under the ethereal lights, a shock of red amidst the blue and orange. He reaches out without thinking, gracing G'raha's soft cheek with calloused fingertips.

"I will miss this. I will miss you." His words are so faint, barely above a whisper, but he knows G'raha hears them, hears the unspoken hope he dares to set free from the shadows. Can see it by the way his ears perk up, sharp and at attention. Furthermore he ducks his head, his eyes obscured under the deep shadow of his fringe, but again he doesn't flinch away from his touch. Tension hangs thick in the air, like a taunt string on the verge of snapping. Y'sato can barely bear it. These moments of almost. They are so close and yet...

Did he at last cross the line between them he shouldn't? He swallows thickly upon the daunting prospect, his mouth suddenly feeling so dry. His outstretched hand starts trembling, and he is on the verge of pulling it back when he feels G'raha cover his hand with his own. Y'sato's eyes widen from the unexpected touch. His hand, his palm, is ever so warm...

G'raha presses his cheek into his palm. Y'sato would think the gesture would bring his friend comfort, but he is so tense. Y'sato can feel it from the way his fingers tighten around his, how his tail resumes beating its silent restless beat against his hip.

"Raha?" Y'sato tries, his voice soft, eyes filled with concern. He dares to gently rub G'raha's cheek with his thumb.

He draws a thin breath, not looking up. "If...if you ever should have need of a marksman...or a scholar's mind...I could go with you if you like."

Overall Story Summary:

Their shared hardships was the spark that forged their friendship. A true bond formed, a true connection. One Y'sato thought would last for life only for fate to tear them apart...

It is more than Y'sato's heart can bear.

He shatters.

-.-.-.-

Final Fantasy 14 fandom

M/M

WoL/G'raha

Rating: Mature due to the content in this chapter.

read on Ao3

[brooklynislandgirl]

🔥 + teeth

Jurassic Memes || -

Cloud-white sheets. The bedroom illuminated by hurricane oil-lamps, the fire far from the bed and contained by glass throwing flickering and monstrous shadows against the walls. Drips of dark ruby, copper and tannins and red fruit notes mix with a sweet vanilla and soft smoked chocolate, mingle in pools; the stains indecipherable from what is wine and what is blood. Her heart throbs to an unheard bass heavy song while her tawny limbs flow almost as fluidly as Beloved does over, around and through Eddie. His breath at her ear is hot. The things he whispers are scorching as he makes her promises of the things he's going to do with her, but his voice is sultry, it's low. It also carries the echo of Beloved's reverberation, things the Klyntar is going to do as the length of His tongue flickers over her thigh, as His teeth come so very close to the most delicate parts of her. Her hands can only make fists in the sheets, her toes can only curl into the mattress as she is inescapably held in place. Lucky, Lucky girl, to be with a pair like you. Eddie's fingers stroke her throat and feather their way downward. Her skin prickles with the anticipation of feeling ever single point of contact between the three of them but not quite able to view beyond her own chest. Eddie's every exhale sends a delicious shiver through her. In turn he waits for her to offer permission for Them to continue or They do as They please. His eyes blaze with a hunger growing in the crystalline gaze. They would devour her in an instant. She trembles from the intensity of it all, this ritual of Theirs. One that is often held in reserve for moments when They know she's stressed out of her mind, and sometimes when Beloved's cravings aren't fully satiated through hunting or chocolate; she's sure He can smell the heavy concentrations of phenethylamine swimming through her veins from simply being a person but also a build up from her anti-depressants. What makes it all a true delicacy is the oxytocin and the dopamine rush from both His bondmate and her. The alchemy of love and desire. But it's Beth that feels like They need to have her, or she is the one who will perish from starvation. There's a thickness in her throat as her lips part slowly and she gives them a single nod of shuddering consent. Eddie's lips on hers breath out a raw sort of energy, a mixture of his ha but also the softness of his pure affection for her. He prefers it when it's her teeth buried in him and the way she drinks him down, appeasing her own primordial nature. Without needing to be able to flitter through his mind Beth knows he hates the idea of hurting her in any meaningful way. He can eviscerate someone in his writing but there isn't really a blood-thirsty bone in his body. Beloved, though. His mouth is a thing of beautiful nightmare. There are more teeth than many of her cousins can boast. They are excruciating aciculate. Time seems to cease and takes with that expiration any sense that spans beyond her bed and her lovers. The previous anticipation shrieks like sirens in the back of her mind, every sensation amplified. Her body grows taut. Eddie smiles against her lips. Beloved's maw grazes her skin before slowly, steadily pressing down. Breaking skin. Prying her lips apart in a way few things can, but the moan that roils up her throat, and is delivered into Eddie's kiss is as her tongue presses into her own teeth ~far fewer without mana to change them, and far less sharp~ is not in any way born of agony. There is no edge of acutely unbearable torment, no scream even partially halted. It might be a function of how differently she is wired physically or mentally. It might be the thing that draws her to her Tradition, or a result of their practises. It could be as simple as deep down, Beth has always been somewhat of a masochist. Perhaps it is a melange of all those things. But the sound she emits is one of unspeakable pleasure, and it is. Every time, whether she is pierced by Beloved's fangs, or Eddie's. Maybe particularly when it's Them both .

[batnoise]

[image 1 ID: a high contrast digital headshot illustration of a white furred dragoness with horns in the shape of a crown on her head, long black tipped ears with red inside them, scarring on her neck, and long ashy grey hair tied up in a ponytail. one of her eye sockets has black crystals growing out of it. the other eye is ruby red with black sclera, and there are two smaller eyes under it. she smiles at the viewer, baring her crystalline black teeth. she has an additional eye on her chest. /end ID]

[image 2 ID: colored digital sketch of a dragoness with many wings and many eyes against a painted black and maroon background. she has white, wiry fur and darker scaled accents. long ashy hair covers her face and falls down her neck. her left arm (the viewer's right) is monstrous and covered in eyes as well. /end ID]

[🔪 / jan 2022 + oct 2022]

patreon rewards done for omen!

[kpforpresident]

37 for the kiss thing please

Eyes watering from the biting cold winds that whipped endlessly through the streets of New York, Lexa toed her shoes off as soon as she had crossed the warm threshold. She shivered slightly as she carefully unwrapped the ice-flecked scarf from around her neck and shed her frosty peacoat on the old wooden coat rack that stood crookedly beside the dark green door, blowing forced warm air into her hands as she quietly trod on her socked feet on the worn hardwood floors. 

Sadia, their quiet black cat, chirped softly as she trotted into the entryway, twining herself happily around her human’s legs as she flopped on Lexa’s feet, sharp claws gleaming in the lamplight as she stretched and flexed her paws in contentment. Lexa smiled softly, scooping up the cat to give her a kiss before gently plopping her onto her window perch. 

“Babe? You home?” Lexa called into the suspiciously quiet house as she wandered into the living room, pulling the large silver pin out of her hair as she walked further into the cozy brownstone. Wild curls tumbled over her shoulder as she absently flipped through the pile of junk mail that she had scooped from their ice-crusted mailbox as she had stumbled through their foray. 

“It’s all just random Chick-Fil-A coupons from the guy who used to live here, that and targeted voting ads,” she grumbled to the large burnt orange abstract painting on the wall (her favourite work of Clarke’s)  as she dumped it all into the recycling before gently opening the slightly ajar door on her left, muted golden light spilling from under the door. Soft jazz music drifted out of the opening, curling into the air. Once Lexa had cracked the door further she leaned on the doorframe, smiling at the scene before her. 

A paint flecked hand reached out unseeingly for the glass of ruby-red wine sat on a small wooden table, just within arm’s reach of a large, clearly well loved easel. A large canvas was propped onto it- a swirling scene of crystalline blues, bright yellows, and emerald greens were splashed across the taunt surface. Clarke sat on a rickety wooden stool in front of this explosion of colours, clad only in a paint-splattered white tee-shift that skimmed the tops of her thighs. Her bare feet were hooked comfortably in the rungs of the chair, messy golden bun barely contained by the hairelastic that strained to hold the wild mane. Their record player sat stacked on a record-filled milk crate in the corner, the prized thrifting possession from an entire day spent in the Chelsea Flea market. They had staggered home with it between them, setting it up triumphantly in the living room as they had slow-danced quietly together, heads pressed close as they rotated to the crackly lyrics of Elvis Presley’s Can’t Help Falling in Love. 

As Lexa looked on quietly, Clarke cocked her head, muttering quietly to herself as she sipped the wine absentmindedly in her left hand, sticking the blue-coated paintbrush that sat in her right hand to sit jauntily behind her ear. She placed the wineglass back onto the table- Lexa winced as the glass tettered right on the lip of the corner- and stood up slowly, placing her hands in the middle of her back as she stretched, catlike. She caught sight of Lexa out of her peripherals, jumping slightly as a wide grin split across her face. 

“Hey, baby- I didn’t hear you come in,” Clarke says, scooping her glass back into her hand as she pads over to the door, nuzzling into Lexa as she melts into her slightly taller frame. Lexa folds her arms around her paint-coated wife, tugging teasingly on an exposed bra strap as she squeezed her. Lexa laces their fingers together as she gently pulls Clarke away from her studio, gently reminding her that even Brooklyn painters require sustenance. 

They order Pad Thai and red curry from the place on the corner that they both like and sit cross legged in the living room, sipping from frosted beer bottles as they chat about their respective days. At once point while Clarke is gesturing emphatically, talking at the speed of light about the painting class she had taught earlier in the day, Lexa leans over and gently pulls the slim paint brush out from behind Clarke’s hair and brushes, one, two, three light kisses across her lips. Clarke stumbles over her sentence, leaning over to chase Lexa as she moves laughingly back to her seat. Their lips slot back together as Lexa shifts back towards Clarke, deepening the kiss for a moment before pulling away and smiling into her beer bottle. 

“I, what was that for?” Clarke splutters, laughing slightly as a slightly pink tinge dapples her cheeks. 

Lexa places her cheek in her hand, twirling a mouthful of noodles around her fork as she says sweetly, “Oh, just because I love you.”

Clarke smiles into her share of the Pad Thai before tackling Lexa playfully to the carpet, Lexa’s laugh ringing out through their living room as she topples backwards. 

[nnatsume]

. . . gemstones ! 🌙

a / n: writing directly into the drafts is a very dangerous sport. do not do this alone slash ever. btw i'm not even gonna proofread this

cw: tragic lovers, implied murder/suicide

an extravaganza of velvet-clad stars click their heels to you in felicity. their shining smiles show in his eyes—dotting diamonds on glassy gold. your hand clasped in his like a most precious jewel, heaven's gemstones commence their nightly dance in honor.

one more, the poor boy asked.

one more you give.

with dance-tired shoes frayed at the lace from heel to the clouds, you fall into his embrace—a gentle pirouette for all the days you missed, and one with ardor for the ones you'll miss.

a dip for every kiss, and a raise for the ones to never come.

"there's no way, hm?"

a question you let the wind carry away from your ears, for the heart lodged in your throat couldn't bear the answer. a laugh a little too sour for him drums against your chest—a laugh with ache, tearing crystalline butterfly wings.

how cruel, cupid.

torn fingers clutch your hand tighter, unfurling the dance with bleeding feet. you slow, slow, and you look into weary eyes. ill with sugar—only for you.

how vicious.

one more step, all toward the ledge. the balcony dove into the depths of the river, your eyes down with it, fading into blue and nothingness. jewels fall from the skies upon it—diamonds, pretty pretty broken glass and shards of mosaic and magic, never piercing the surface. shifting his gaze back to you, to the silver on your neck, fragile pearls glimmer between his fingertips.

a look showed all and nothing.

what is it worth?

you place your hand over his, over silver, and you tear. the clasp snaps in two, precious stones tumbling down your chest, to the floor, over the ledge. coated in red, what is it worth?

and he tears the emeralds from his vest, and you tear the sapphires from your belt, the lapis from your ears as he does with the amethyst on his—all over the ledge, all to hell and nothing, his gold speaks to you, and thoroughly—so don't forget me and the rubies.

the moon bows in honor.

✦⸻ taglist: @yumetokashite @lisxdumbr @tomago @runanadwindles @hyacinthyume @the-banana-is-drawing-n-writing @narumika @actualmomotaro @0l-yumiyu-l0 @lilikags @southssuns @arashimybeloved

[thejewelryhut]

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[scattered-irises]

Tale XI: The Slumbering Prince (Yuma)

Apologies to @Devilchiara...I could not keep my promise and hurt Yuma.

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 10k

Characters: Yuma Tsukumo, Kotori Mizuki, Astral, Vector

Relationships: Past Yuma/Kotori (like from 1000 years ago), Yuma/Astral

Warnings: Angst, dystopic themes

Summary: Awakening from his slumber of one thousand years, a young prince finds that so much, yet so little has changed.

Once upon a time, a young queen bore a son. The kingdom rejoiced at the birth of the new heir, for the pregnancy had been long and difficult for the queen. Relieved that both his wife and son were delivered safely, the king invited all of the subjects in the land for a feast to celebrate the birth of the crown prince. Gathered around the young prince, the king, the queen and his older sister presented him to the adoring subjects.

  As was tradition for the royal family, the seven fairies of the stars were invited to bless the child. On a bridge of starlight they ascended, stars woven in their colorful hair and jewelry jingling from their wrists. Their crystalline wings glimmered beneath the sun, aweing all that saw them. They cooed and laughed over the smiling child, allowing him to grasp their various crystalline baubles. 

  Mizar, the guardian of the rising sun, adorned in topaz and amber, blessed the child with generosity so that he could serve his people with their best interests in mind. 

  Alioth, the guardian of the sunset, energetically bounded towards the royal bassinet, ruby earrings jingling with excitement. He beamed at the infant and waved his wand over him. With a voice bright with joy, he blessed the child with boundless energy.

  Merak followed after his companion. The guardian of the blazing day, the burly fairy leaned down towards the young prince and allowed him to wrap his hands around his gargantuan finger. With a voice as gentle as the summer breeze, he blessed the prince with endless compassion. The young prince beamed and released his grip from Merak. 

  Following Merak was Phecda, guardian of the harvest and merchants. Wearing a wreath of sunflowers and crystals, the fairy cartwheeled over to the young prince as he laughed. With a mischievous grin, he granted the child the gift of wiliness, allowing him to navigate the fraught waters of politics with relative ease.

  The only female fairy of the seven, Megrez, glided over to the infant and placed her lips on his forehead. The guardian of the waters and travelers blessed the prince with curiosity, which would allow him to always listen eagerly to his subjects’ concerns. 

  The second-in-command of the fairies, Dubhe, the guardian of beasts and hunters, blessed the child with the name of Yuma. With this name, the young prince was imbued with the strength and endurance of the noblest of steeds. 

  In a dazzling array, the fairies reveled and danced after their blessings, only to be stopped just as the seventh fairy was about to bless the child. A cold wind filled the palace courtyard and the sun disappeared behind stormy clouds. 

  “It seems thoust forgotten about me,” boomed a voice as clear and cold as glass. 

  Thunder struck the midst of the courtyard. In its wake, a figure dressed in black and red robes stood, glaring at the royal family. Yuma began to cry as the figure approached the bassinet, red crystals jingling in his long and golden hair. 

  “Don Thousand! Get away from my son! A beast such as you is not welcome here!” bellowed the king, brandishing his sword. 

  With a wave of his hand, the eighth fairy threw the king against the wall, eliciting a series of screams. Impervious to the chaos that he had caused, Don Thousand peered into the bassinet and sneered at the crying infant. The wind howled as the eighth fairy prepared his curse. As the guardian of the night and the spurned, he was rarely revered by the people of the land. Centuries and centuries of neglect had caused jealousy to grow in his heart. 

  “Get away from my baby brother!” snapped the young princess, tugging at Don Thousand’s robes. 

  She glared at the ghastly figure, unperturbed by his previous actions. The fairy paused, glancing at the young girl and her fiery red hair. He bent down towards her and clutched her face in his hand amidst the queen’s wails. 

  “Akari, no!” screamed the queen.

  Defiantly, Akari continued to glare at Don Thousand and his mismatched eyes. The courtyard held its breath at what the fairy would do to the young princess. After a few moments, Don Thousand laughed, his laughter sounding like crackling thunder.

  “And thee have refrained from blessing this princess with my fellow fairies’ blessings?! Such silly patriarchal notions thou possesseth! Had she been blessed, she would have become a fearsome ruler like none had ever seen before! Such a warmonger! Such a wonderful, ruthless tyrant she would be!” 

  He looked into the young girl’s eyes and beamed. 

  “Run along, mine dear. Thou wast born far too soon in a world that will never recognize thy greatness.”

  Letting go of Akari’s face, he then cups his chin with his hand.

  “Perhaps it never will.” 

  In a fluid motion, Don Thousand stood up and faced the injured king and his cowed subjects. He raised his hands, a wicked smile on his lips. 

  “It is true, thy prince shall grow to become one of the greatest of his time. A prince among princes, a jewel among chaffs of grain. But at the age of sixteen, he shall prick his finger on a spindle and perish!” cackled the fairy. 

  The queen began to sob in despair while the young princess held her mother close. Joined by her subjects, men and women alike began to weep for the king that would never be. With a final gust, Don Thousand vanished. As the sun dawned through the dark clouds, the king weakly tugged on the sleeve of the final fairy, yet to grant his own blessing. 

  “Save my child, please,” he begged.

  Benetnasch, the leader of the seven fairies, gazed down at the sorrowful king and his crying queen. 

  “It is not our duty to interfere in the threads of fate…,” murmured the fairy, his deep blue eyes filled with sorrow. “I cannot undo what has been done.”

  A lone breeze blew through his violet curls, the crystals in his headdress jingling merrily amidst the gloomy moment. The queen ran to his side and bowed to him, her pale hands grasping his silken robes. 

  “I beg you, try. I cannot bear a child again,” sobbed the queen. “He is all I have.”

  “You are the guardian of the home and family. Please save mine,” continued the king. 

  Benetnasch gazed at the wailing infant and slowly peeled himself away from the royal couple. He procured his wand and positioned it over the child. His wings briefly fluttered as silence fell over the courtyard. The opaline colors of his wings cast a pale rainbow over Yuma and the child hushed. 

  “He shall not die,” declared Benetnasch, trying to keep the shaking out of his voice. 

  The courtyard continued to hold its breath. The leader of the fairies closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. 

  “But shall fall into a deep slumber, lasting a thousand years.” 

  The wail of the queen punctuated his benediction, sending a bolt of pain through Benetnasch’s heart. As the spell was cast, the child beamed and soon fell into a peaceful sleep, as if the blessing had already taken effect. Sorrowfully, Benetnasch pulled himself away from the bassinet and avoided the king and queen’s eyes. 

  “We cannot intervene in the Fates’ design for your child,” repeated Benetnasch gravely as the rainbow bridge reappeared. “To prevent any further strife, we shall take our leave.”

  In a solemn row, the seven fairies of the stars ascended the rainbow bridge and returned to their perches in the skies, where they watched over their humans yet were powerless to help them.

  🥀

  “Alright! Sixteen pancakes for this morning’s breakfast!” crows Yuma as he rushes into the dining hall.

  “But my lord—”

  “Sixteen pancakes for sixteen years of being alive!” demands Yuma as he excitedly bangs his fists on the table. “And don’t forget the syrup!”

  His parents exchange helpless glances while his sister massages her brows and sighs. The pancakes are soon brought in by the chefs. Eagerly, Yuma begins to slather them with syrup.

  “Are you sure you need that much sweetness?” mutters Akari. 

  Yuma scarfs down his pancakes, two at a time. Syrup stains his cheeks and he gives his sister a slimy smile. 

  “‘Coursh!” he says with a full mouth. 

  Akari winces and forces herself to resume her breakfast. 

  “Yuma, dear,” his mother begins. “There’s something we have to tell you today—”

  “No time, ma! I’ve got a hunting trip with Tetsuo!” says Yuma. 

  Right afterwards, he licks his plate clean and dashes off. Queen Mirai sighs. King Kazuma pats her shoulder.

  “We can talk to him later.”

  “There won’t be a later if you’re not careful!” exclaims Mirai. 

  She stiffens and then sinks back into her seat.

  “I’m sorry, my love. It’s just…”

  Tears fill her eyes and she quickly wipes them away. Pain fills Kazuma’s expression and he returns to his breakfast. In silence, the family eat. Akari is the second to finish and she piles her plate on top of her brother’s. 

  “Akari,” begins her mother. 

  Akari lets out a growl. 

  “I know. The tailors are waiting.”

  As her younger brother would never be king, she would eventually be queen. The only caveat was that she had to be married to a man of great power to ensure that her crown could be kept. Her father’s old friend, Duke Charles, had willingly offered himself to her. Just thinking about the man made Akari shiver in distaste. Beloved by the older courtiers for his wit and charm, all Akari could see was a spoiled playboy who would plunge the kingdom into debt. Behind his suave features and carefully combed hair was an idiot.

  Although, she has read of queens that cleverly disposed of their incompetent consorts. She’s still slightly appalled by such underhanded tactics, but the closer the wedding date approaches, the more she is willing to take the risk. 

  🥀

  “Ma! Look! Tetsuo and I got a whole boar!” declares Yuma as he runs into the throneroom with muddied boots. 

  The huntsman’s son, Tetsuo, carries a large boar over his shoulder and then slams it before the courtiers to astonished gasps. Yuma swipes his nose and hops over to the boar. 

  “It wasn’t easy! We had to follow it through muddy trails and through forests of thorn to get him!” says Yuma as he plants a foot on the boar’s stomach. 

  He pauses for a few moments as the boar stirs. A gasp ripples through the crowd. Yuma withdraws his sword as the boar opens its mouth. Weakly, the boar coughs up a long spike. As the light fades from its eyes, the boar’s eyes turn to the young prince. Its mouth stretches into a grin. 

  “Out of the way!” shouts Kazuma as he pushes his son to the floor. 

  Picking up the spike, his expression pales. 

  “What is it?” asks Yuma, peering over his father’s shoulder. 

  Kazuma meets the eyes of the terrified courtiers. For the last sixteen years, all had been forbidden to speak of the prince’s curse under the threat of death. The spindle gleams beneath the sun, winking as if the two shared a terrible secret. In disgust, Kazuma tosses it aside. 

  “A wooden stake,” he replies. “It must have eaten a vampire hunter.” 

  Uneasy laughter fills the room. All of Yuma’s further attempts at looking at the spike were obscured by busy attendants gathering the boar. He glances at his mother, who has turned inexplicably pale, fussed over by her ladies-in-waiting. By Duke Charles’ side, Akari smacks his hand away and glares at the place where the spike had been. Her attendant, Duchess Dorowa, sighs and puts a hand on her shoulder.

  “We can still eat it, right?” offers Yuma after a few moments. 

  He forces an awkward grin. 

  “Yes, yes of course,” says his father absentmindedly. 

  The king turns back and rests his hand on Yuma’s head.

  “For the rest of today, you must stay within the palace,” he says.

  Yuma’s expression falls. 

  “But Kotori and Takashi…”

  He’s interrupted by a stern headshake. Then, his father gives him a smile.

  “We haven’t been seeing you much. On a day as important as your birthday, we’d prefer to spend time with you.”

  Yuma glances at his mother and sister. Then he turns back to his father. He scratches the back of his head and forces a grin.

  “Alright,” he says. 

  As he grew older, he began to notice the forced grins of the courtiers. They had always been exceedingly kind to him. While other princes complained of harsh tutors and boring lessons, Yuma had only informal lessons taught by a scribe. He often spent his days hunting, sparring and fishing with his friends. Sometimes, when he entered a room, a brief silence would follow. Then he would suddenly be surrounded by uneasy smiles and stilted conversation. 

  The whispers in the halls, about Akari being queen and the royal family being doomed, occasionally reached his ears. He didn’t know what to make of it. Surely, he would be king someday? Perhaps his sister was plotting to marry a prince behind their parents’ backs. He wouldn’t put it above her to do so. Still, he’d miss her when the time came for her to go to the prince’s kingdom. 

  Yuma scans the faces of the courtiers around them. Uneasiness fills their eyes and they avoid his gaze. In the crowd, he meets Kotori’s eyes. She offers him a small smile and he bounds over to her. 

  “So, what did I miss?” he asks. 

  “Not much. The Asterellen ambassador is coming soon.”

  The young man rolls his eyes and blows a stray lock of hair from his bangs. 

  “Please…there’s more interesting things happening in the magician’s closet than that.”

  Kotori stifles a giggle and takes Yuma���s hand in hers. 

  “Do you still want to go to the forest?”

  Yuma grins. 

  “We’ll do it right when the ambassador arrives.”

  🥀

  “Stop it!” laughs Kotori as Yuma splashes her with water. 

  Kotori splashes Yuma with water in return. Yuma runs off and Kotori chases after him. They wind through the small streams that they had run through as children. Past trees that they had watched turn gold and then bare countless of times. Fields that they had snuck out to and helped the farmers harvest. They are surrounded by green mountains and blue skies, as if the heavens themselves were celebrating with the young couple.

  Making their way into a clearing, the two collapse onto the grass, laughing. Yuma picks a long blade of grass from nearby and sticks it in his mouth. He looks up at the sky, arms behind his head. The clouds move by in a procession of odd shapes and the prince smiles. 

  “What do you see?” he asks. 

  “Fairies,” replies Kotori. 

  “I wonder what they’re doing now,” he muses. 

  Kotori shrugs. 

  “Listening to our prayers.”

  Yuma frowns. 

  “That’s all they do though. They don’t come down to help us, so there isn’t really a point, is there?” 

  Kotori puts her hands over her ears.

  “I’m not hearing any of this. They came to your birth, for crying out loud!” 

  “They haven’t been seen since!” 

  “Because they’re busy!” 

  Yuma spits the blade of grass out. He goes back to looking up at the sky. Only out here does no one treat him like glass. The peasants greet him with familiar handshakes and backslaps. In the palace, it seemed like only his friends treated him as if he were like the others. Their parents, on the other hand, gave him the same pitying smiles and false praises as the other courtiers. 

  “What do you see now?” he asks Kotori. 

  His friend blushes. 

  “A mother walking her child.”

  “And how many do you want?”

  Kotori shrugs. 

  “Three, I suppose.”

  Yuma smirks. 

  “That’s not enough to form secure alliances! I’ll give you nine!”

  Kotori’s cheeks turn bright red and she pushes Yuma away. 

  “You can’t possibly marry me! I’m only the daughter of a count!” protests Kotori.

  “A king once married a merchant’s son,” offers Yuma with a shrug. 

  “That’s because he was a beast!” 

  “That’s what my sister calls me!”

  Yuma places a kiss on Kotori’s cheek and runs off. She lets out a huff and chases after him, her body feeling as if it was on fire. Through the woods they run, the trees growing thicker and thicker the deeper they go. The wind whistles through the trees, joined by the leaves’ incessant rustling. The path begins to grow muddy, the shade only allowing in small amounts of sun. Kotori frowns as Yuma draws further and further away from her.

  “Yuma, come back!” she calls. 

  “Catch me if you can!” he replies, letting out a laugh.

  Kotori looks around her. Everything has become unfamiliar, the trees too large and old and the streams enlarged into creeks. Reluctantly, she runs after Yuma, praying that he knew the way back. They wind and twist deeper into the woods. Now the wind is cold and biting, no longer the playful breeze they were accustomed to. 

  “Yuma?” she calls as she stops beside him. 

  “There’s a cottage there!” says Yuma as he points to a dilapidated building. “Let’s explore it!” 

  Before Kotori can stop him, Yuma has slipped through the creaky door. She squeezes herself in after him and sneezes at the dust surrounding them. Bits of sunlight filter in through the collapsed straw roof. Clearing bits of straw from the floor, Yuma wanders into the cottage. 

  “I really don’t like the look of this,” whispers Kotori. 

  “It’s fine. It looks like no one has been here in years!” reassures Yuma, his voice echoing off the empty walls. 

  Empty bottles and barrels lay scattered across the floor. Yuma kicks them aside and walks into an area shadowed by the ruins of a large dresser. 

  “Look at this!” he exclaims. 

  “What?” hisses Kotori.

  “This…thing!” says Yuma as he spins the wheel. 

  The wooden contraption spins with surprising speed, despite how long it has been in disuse. Cobwebs cover its feet. Yuma hops around the contraption, playing with the wheel and then stopping as he regards the empty spike at the end. 

  “What do you think this is?” he asks as he taps his finger up and down on the spike. 

  “Careful! That’s still sharp!” exclaims Kotori.

  Yuma jumps, his finger landing back onto the spike. He lets out a small cry and bounds back into the light, sucking on the finger. 

  “It’s a weird thing, whatever it is,” he says, his finger dripping with beads of blood. 

  Kotori lets out a sigh of frustration and offers Yuma her handkerchief. Yuma grabs the silk cloth and wraps it around his finger. 

  “Thanks! I’ll give it back to you after I wash it.”

  Kotori crosses her arms, thankful that the shadows concealed her blush.

  “Keep it,” she mumbles. 

  “Oh, alright then! I’ll use it to wipe my nose later,” Yuma says with a chuckle. 

  His friend grumbles.

  “There’s nothing else in this place so let’s go back.”

  When there’s no response, she turns back to Yuma. He leans against the wall, a hand on his head. His brows are knit in a rare show of concern as he looks down at his wound. The blood on her handkerchief has bloomed into the shape of a diamond, red as a ruby. 

  “Yuma?” she asks, her heart leaping to her throat.

  The prince forces a smile.

  “Yeah…I’m just feeling a bit tired all of a sudden,” he murmurs. 

  Kotori rushes to support him as Yuma’s body sinks to the floor. Yuma looks at her with half-lidded eyes, a smile still on his lips. 

  “There’s a marionberry cake waiting for me. Save me a piece, won’t you?”

  When his eyes close, his breathing immediately slows. No matter how much Kotori shakes him, he refuses to awaken. Panic fills the young woman’s chest. The only witness to her screams are the trees, the shadows and the spinning wheel.

  🥀

  They had found her in the middle of the woods, the prince’s body slung over her shoulders. Mud clung to her skirts and her face had been scratched by the brambles she had wandered through. She collapsed at the guards’ feet with tears in her eyes, begging for them to wake the prince. Although the trumpet player blew his horn and the men bellowed at the top of their lungs, the prince’s eyes remained closed. 

  Upon seeing the slumped form of her son, the queen began to weep. King Kazuma seized the young maid and questioned her until the sun set and the moon rose high into the sky. Across the kingdom, the people mourned. What had been a joyous day had turned into a funeral. The colorful banners were replaced with white. All of the flowers in the palace garden had their blooms cut. The birthday banquet was left uneaten. 

  Oblivious to all, the young prince slept in his room, surrounded by the heads of flowers and guarded at all times by a kingsguard armored in black. As long as his chest rose and fell, he remained alive. 

  Far and wide the king and queen searched for healers. As the years passed, their hopes diminished and their hair grayed. Charlatans and honest doctors paraded themselves before the unhappy couple, their promised potions and poultices yielding to nothing. The prince continued to remain young in his slumber, his curved lips always on the verge of breaking into his trademark grin. The princess was eventually crowned queen, surprising all with her decision to marry a duchess’ daughter over the king’s trusted friend. 

  Together the two ruled, ushering in a rule of enlightenment. Fighting against plots against her life, arguing against backward laws and vying for the elevation of women, Queen Akari soon became a symbol of progress. Literati and artists flocked to her kingdom, impressed by the tales they had heard. Reviled by the older members of the court for her headstrong nature and harsh punishments against corrupt aristocrats, Akari and her consort were constantly slandered in the shadows. Elegantly, she glided through the rumors and held fast to her crown. 

  Meanwhile, the young maid was accused of witchcraft and murder, despite the king declaring her innocent. The rumors hung upon her like a cloud until one night, she was discovered missing from her chambers. A small, golden dahlia was left behind in her place, the sign of Merak’s knights. Leaving all she had known behind, Kotori sailed away to distant lands that had never heard of the slumbering prince. She cut her hair, trained alongside the Knights of Day and dedicated herself to protecting the downtrodden. 

  At times, she would journey alone, the memories of her sun-filled childhood keeping her warm throughout the cold nights. Although she would live for many years, never again did she fall in love. Retiring to a convent to teach the next generation of knights, Kotori would be known among the trainees as Greenheart. Despite her rheumy eyes and gray hair, the stories she would tell of her childhood remained bright and vivid.

  As Queen Akari’s reign reached its third decade, war brewed on the horizon. Aristocrats who had disagreed with her reign betrayed her with foreign armies. In a furious battle, they surrounded the castle and demanded her surrender. Refusing until the final soldier had fallen, Akari was brought to the opposition in chains. Before her executioner, she had spat curses that had made even the hardiest of warriors blush. As the blade fell before her, it was said that a black shadow fell before the queen and whisked her away. The morning after, her consort had also been discovered missing from her cell. 

  As kingdoms rose and fell, the slumbering prince soon became nothing but a legend. Only his tower remained of the razed castle, overgrown by thorns and wildflowers. Where lush fields of wheat grew, trees began to take their place. Over hundreds of years, a forest grew to conceal the ruins away from prying eyes. Surrounded by the husks of flowers and empty suits of armor, the prince continued to sleep, as youthful as the day he had fallen. 

  Eventually, the people began to turn away from the fairies of old. They began to worship at altars made of gears and steel. Black smoke from factories began to fill the air. The fairies began to fade from memory, their shining faces obscured by smoke. Now they could only watch from above as their worshippers moved beyond them. 

  Like kingdoms, factories rose and fell. Kings and queens were reduced to relics of the past. The gods of Logic and Reason took the places of the fairies. As the fairies slowly faded from existence, they lamented that not a single soul upon the earth would mourn for them, as the black smoke had obscured the heavens for good. 

  Even more centuries passed. The skies were cleared of the black smog. A weary sun shone upon a world of blue. Sand covered the lands as far as the eye could see. Thin buildings shyly rose into the sky, as if hesitant to touch the face of the sun. Alongside ashen men, blue beings roamed the lands. Devoid of the traditions and superstitions of old, the inhabitants were devoid of hearts and ruled from their towers. 

  In this world, so foreign and lifeless compared to the world that he had known, the slumbering prince awakened. 

  🥀

  “It’s a formality, really. This tower has nothing in it,” says the construction overseer as he clears away bits of dried vines. 

  “Regardless, I would still like to see what is inside,” says Chancellor Astral. 

  “Of course,” says the overseer, opening the door to the tower.

  The door collapses behind the chancellor, the wind jingling their earrings.

  “And that’s why it’s no longer a stable structure,” grunts the overseer. 

  They make their way up the winding staircase, lit only by the overseer’s lamp. The overseer shows the chancellor the multitude of empty rooms. As they reach the top of the tower, the heavyset Astralian pauses. He puts a hand on his chin as he stands before a door overgrown with vines.

  “Never seen this one before,” he grunts as he opens the door. 

  It gives way easily. Dust motes fill the room. The overseer and the chancellor both shield their eyes at the colors of the room. Multitudes of faded greens, reds, golds, purples and oranges fill their eyes. Rarely had a place ever contained this much color. 

  “Stars above…,” grunts the overseer. 

  Astral walks past the overseer and towards an area curtained off by thick curtains. They yank them away and stiffens upon seeing the being beneath the covers. Usually, the humans they saw were ashen-skinned and gray-eyed. Their hair came in similar shades of gray. Loud and disorderly, Astral preferred to interact with them via their representatives.  

  “What is that?” asks the overseer from behind. 

  “A human, I believe…,” murmurs Astral. 

  The human twitches. His mouth twists and he stretches. Astral and the overseer jump in unison. When he opens his eyes, Astral’s eyes widen to see bright red pupils. The young man shouts upon seeing the blue beings. He throws off his covers and looks around in bewilderment. A stream of unintelligible panic escapes from the young man, the language archaic and long disused. 

  “Translation?” asks the overseer. 

  “Just a moment,” says Astral as they close their eyes and comb through their collection of ancient languages. 

  The files run through Astral’s mind at a rapid pace, stopping at one far in the back. 

  “...mother and father and sister and…”

  Astral opens their eyes.

  “Sperian,” they respond to the overseer. 

  The overseer grunts. 

  “Tell me your name,” says Astral. 

  “Wait, you can understand me?!” exclaims the boy. 

  “Via an internal translator, yes,” replies Astral.

  “You ate a translator?!”

  Now it was the Astral being’s turn to be confused. Astral beings never needed to eat. They relied on the light of the sun to function. The chancellor shakes their head.

  “No. Every citizen of Astra has access to a digital library implanted in their mind.”

  Even more confusion fills the human’s eyes.

  “What sort of witchcraft is this?” he sputters.

  “Please tell me your name,” repeats Astral.

  “Yuma! Prince Yuma of the great Kingdom of Hope!” he shouts, causing Astral to wince.

  Astral and the overseer exchange glances. Never had they heard of such a person. 

  “Yuma, I am Chancellor Astral and this is Overseer 349,” introduces the Chancellor.

  Yuma made a face.

  “That’s a weird name,” he remarks.

  “We are named for our functions. I am meant to serve Astra. Overseer 349 is meant to oversee construction projects.”

  “Wait, where am I?” asks Yuma as he looks out the window to see a world of blue sand. 

  “You are in Astra, Block 39944G,” says the overseer. 

  Yuma’s brows knit. He looks out the window again. Flecks of blue crystals have begun to fall from the sky, dissolving once they touched the sand. 

  “What year is it?” he asks in a quiet voice. 

  “We are in XC9023,” replies Astral. 

  “I must still be dreaming,” says Yuma as he crawls back into bed. 

  “My vitality scanner says you are fully awake,” says Astral. 

  “Well, you see, on the day I fell asleep, it was the month of the Regent, year of the Sword and my sixteenth birthday,” says Yuma as he pulls the covers back over himself. 

  “That’s impossible,” says the Overseer after he looks up the date. “That was one thousand rotations ago.” 

  “Rotations?” asks Yuma, a brow quirked. 

  “In your term, ‘years,’” explains Astral. 

  Yuma pales. The color change sends prickles up Astral’s spine. The prince stares down at his hands, still imprinted with the prickle of the spindle. 

  “No,” he utters.

  “No?” echoes Astral. “But that is what has transpired.”

  This is why they despise dealing with humans. There was no point in denying what had happened. Even more discomfort fills Astral as moisture begins to fill Yuma’s eyes. His lips begin to tremble. 

  Crying. It was something unique to humans. A file on crying fills Astral’s mind and they brush it away. 

  “That would mean they’re all dead,” chokes Yuma. “Kotori, ma, sis and dad…”

  “Well, yes. The average human only lives to about 120 rotations,” muses Astral. “You are an illogical existence.” 

  “What happened?” whispers Yuma, looking out at the barren wasteland before him. “It’s all…blue.”

  “Owing to the centuries of pollution, floods, chemical reactions and decomposition, most living entities have lost their ability to reflect all waves of light save for shades of blue,” explains Astral. 

  “You’re not making sense.”

  “Correction: I am making the most logical sense.”

  Yuma turns towards the Astral being and scans them up and down. Pain fills his expression. He holds his sheets closer to his body. Giving a small headshake, he gazes down at the comforting shades of red and gold. 

  “There are still kings, correct?” he asks after a few moments.

  “Kingdoms are illogical inventions of the past,” replies Astral tersely. 

  “That’s…that’s treason!” exclaims Yuma.

  “You have no authority to accuse me of such crimes.”

  “But I’m a prince!”

  “As part of an archaic and illogical structure of power, your title is null and void.”

  In the silence that follows, Yuma holds the cold gaze of the being before him, his heart hammering in his chest. Astral lets out a sigh and offers Yuma their hand.

  “However, as it is my duty to serve all entities in my sphere, I will help rehabilitate you.”

  Yuma smacks away Astral’s hand and glares at them. Upon contact with the human, Astral flinches. Briefly, it felt as if all of their neurons were activated, setting their body aflame. They weren’t sure if the sensation was normal or not. 

  “What’s wrong with you?!” Yuma exclaims. “Aren’t you going to offer me any sort of understanding? An apology, maybe? Something comforting? It’s been order after order, confusing story after confusing story!”

  And this is why they despise humans. Astral lets out a sigh.

  “Permission to demolish this unsound structure?” asks the overseer.

  “Demolish?!” exclaims Yuma. 

  “Permission granted. The individual can be temporarily housed in my tower,” replies Astral. 

  Yuma jumps up and stands before his bed, arms outstretched.

  “There’s no way I’m stepping into this wasteland!” he snaps. 

  Astral glances down at Yuma’s bare feet. 

  “Agreement. Before demolishment, send for proper footwear.”

  Yuma lets out another growl. He lets out a stream of curses that rings in Astral’s ears. Quickly, they switch their translator off. Truly, this would be a difficult individual to integrate into society. However, they couldn’t stop thinking about the jolt that had occurred when Yuma had first touched them. For a moment, the colors in this archaic room hadn’t felt too overwhelming. They could feel Yuma’s fear and confusion, their heart racing. They glance back at Yuma, who was now on his knees, hands clasped together, desperately motioning at the room around him. 

  “Please schedule the demolition for the next moon cycle,” orders Astral.

  The overseer raises a brow at the inefficiency. Despite that, he holds his tongue and nods his assent. Astral turns the translator back on and looks down at Yuma. He was quiet now, face buried in the covers. Hesitantly, they approach him. 

  “Please stand. I will reintegrate you myself,” they say, surprising even themself. 

  Yuma looks up at Astral and stares at their offered hand. 

  “Why?”

  Yes, why? They could have ordered their Mentors and Integrators to do this. For once, they didn’t have an answer. Astral continues to hold their hand out.

  “It is because I am made to serve my constituents. You are one of them.”

  Serve. They guess it could also equate to teaching.

  🥀

  “Wait, humans live here?!” exclaims Yuma as Astral shows him a photograph. 

  The young prince leaps up from his seat and begins to scroll through the images of the ashen buildings. Astral had to admit. They didn’t expect the young prince to pick up on the new technology so quickly. Perhaps humans weren’t as set in their ways as they thought. 

  “Yes. Each living area contains a sleeping, sanitary and consumption area.”

  “Where are the plants? The animals? The fountains and pools?!” asks Yuma in a scandalized tone. “There’s absolutely nothing for them to do!”

  “Why, isn’t working enough for them?” asks Astral.

  Yuma makes a sputtering noise and gives the living quarters a dismissive wave.

  “Not at all! Humans need places to make music, sing and dance! If they’re bored, they get restless!”

  “Music…?” muses Astral. 

  Yuma’s eyes widen and his nostrils flare. He takes two pencils and begins to tap out a rhythm. 

  “Music! You know…when sounds are put together,” explains Yuma. “For example, singing!”

  In an offkey voice, he begins to sing. 

  A beastly king one night decreed

A fair maid was to be his bride

He roared and thrashed, burning down villages in his rage

  A greedy merchant then said, 

“I have a child fair, with blue eyes and lovely limbs, see!

In exchange for gold, I will give my child to thee!”

  The beastly king reared his head and said,

“Bring her unto me!”

  A rose was not he who had arrived,

Freckled and plain, he had come expecting a simple task

Yet when the beastly king bent down to devour him, the youth laughed and said—

  “Enough,” says Astral, removing their hands from their ears. 

  Yuma’s face is red with joy from tapping together the pencils and singing. He breathes heavily and he smiles.

  “See? Isn’t it fun?”

  “Fun..?” mutters Astral.

  Chaos. It was pure, disorderly, nonsensical chaos. Yuma grabs Astral’s hand and places a pencil in their hand. Once again, for the briefest moment, Astral can feel Yuma’s rapidly beating heart and passion for this…music. Heat fills their face as they hold the pencil.

  “Like this!” says Yuma as he taps out a new beat. 

  “This isn’t the function of a pencil, though!” protests Astral. 

  “An object’s function can be whatever you like, as long as you use your imagination!” says Yuma with a grin. 

  “Imagination…?”

  After a few moments, Astral begins to mimic Yuma’s beats. If possible, the youth’s smile brightened. 

  “You can try your own rhythms as well!” 

  Yuma begins to tap a new beat, much to Astral’s surprise.

  “How do you know which rhythms to use?” asks the Chancellor. 

  The prince shrugs.

  “Just do what feels right!”

  Feels right , huh? Astral tries a ¾ rhythm. They twist their lips and switch to a 3/2. Then a 2/4. They suppose that it could be…entertaining…

  “What is the purpose of this?” asks Astral as Yuma begins to hum.

  “It’s just fun!” 

  “Fun?”

  Yuma twists his lip, tapping the pencil against his chin. 

  “Enrichment, in your terms,” he says after a few moments. “We humans always need enrichment.” 

  “From the settlements I’ve seen, the humans seem to be doing fine…,” muses Astral.

  “You should take me to one. I’ll tell you how they really feel!” says Yuma. 

  Astral cocks their head. They run through their schedule for the moon cycle. In a few suns, there should be some time allotted. 

  “Alright. It can be an experience for you and I,” agrees the chancellor. 

  “We should bring instruments, just in case. I can show you how to make some!” 

  Perhaps they still had much to learn from this human. 

  🥀

  “Hello!”says Yuma in the common tongue. 

  He bounds into the human settlements, the structures whitewashed and identical. Confused ashen figures stare at him, their eyes dull and their expressions unmoving. The prince approaches a small child and bends down. 

  “My name’s Yuma! What’s yours?” 

  “Moon,” replies the child. 

  Yuma fishes a horse from his pocket, made of various interlocking branches. 

  “Have you ever had a toy before?” he asks. 

  With wide, gray eyes, the child shakes her head. Yuma places the horse in the child’s hand. He smiles and pats Moon’s hand. 

  “Now you do!”

  “What is it?” asks Moon, observing the toy from all angles. 

  A small crowd of onlookers have gathered, their eyes glued to the vibrant human before them. 

  “A horse. It’s an animal humans used to ride to travel far.”

  Gently, he takes the horse from Moon and makes it gallop across the air.

  “This is how they moved,” he says, placing the horse back in Moon’s hand. 

  Fascinated, the child imitates Yuma’s motions.

  “What is the purpose of this smaller…horse?”

  “It’s for you to play with.”

  “Play?”

  “You know. Having fun. Making you feel all calm and warm inside.”

  Astral watches the exchange with fascination. More human children have gathered around Yuma. One by one, he offers them a unique toy from his bag. The children begin to gather together with their presents, imitating Yuma’s motions and making a game of imitating him. When an older man approaches Yuma, the prince smiles and greets him warmly. Without a moment of hesitation, he hands the man his own horse. A small smile fills the man’s face and he shows off the horse to a group of his own friends. 

  From the crowd, Yuma meets Astral’s gaze and smiles. Astral feels their own lips curve without knowing why. A hint of warmth has filled their chest. 

  When the prince pulls out drumsticks carved from wood, a raptured silence fills the square as he begins to tap out a rhythm and sing offkey. 

  “You can join me, if you’d like,” invites Yuma. “If you put your hands together hard enough, you can make sounds too!”

  It begins with a young child. Then another child. Astral watches in fascination as the humans join the prince. Some even begin to hum alongside him. Handing off the drumsticks to a child in the back of the crowd, Yuma begins to dance. His movements are absurd and nonsensical, yet a smile fills his face and he occasionally laughs, his laugh bouncing off of the alabaster words. Once again, the warm sensation fills Astral’s heart. 

  The prince laughs and dances until the moon has risen. When Astral signals that it’s time for them to return, Yuma bids the children farewell. A child tugs at his jacket, asking for him to stay. Yuma shakes his head and then motions to the child’s parents. 

  “I’ll be back,” he promises as he walks back to Astral. 

  He waves and the humans imitate his gesture. Once they’ve gone far enough, Yuma looks back at the young child and her parents. As they get into their vehicle, Yuma gives the settlement one final look and leans his head back against the headrest.

  “Humans become more productive if they’re allowed to have fun,” says the prince. “After a holiday, the kitchen always seems to create better meals.”

  “We shall test your theory then,” muses Astral. “Quarterly reports will be coming in about a lunar cycle.” 

  The prince swipes his nose and lets out a laugh. 

  “If I’m right, you must build enrichment areas in all settlements!” 

  “After a few lunar cycles of increased productivity, perhaps we will.”

  🥀

  Astral wanders down the sleeping corridors. Although they were created with the inability to feel tiredness, they could not help but feel slightly weary after today’s outing. After all of the sensations they had felt with Yuma, it felt as if the absence of these sensations had left a vacuum. As they pass by Yuma’s room, they hear sniffling. They pause before the door.

  He must have been “crying” again. Gently, they open the door. Wrapped around blue sheets, Yuma buries his face in his knees and sobs. Astral stands in the doorway, unsure of what to do.

  “Yuma?” they call after a few moments.

  Yuma stops his sobs and looks up at Astral with reddened eyes. 

  “You don’t sleep,” he says. “So what are you doing here?”

  Astral takes a step forward. 

  “I do not, however, I feel like I must sit down.”

  Yuma pulls the sheets away, allowing a small space for Astral to rest.

  “Thank you,” says the Chancellor as they sit down. “What is the cause of your crying?”

  The prince sniffles, wiping away a few tears. 

  “I just miss my family, that’s all,” murmurs Yuma.

  Family units were incredibly important to maintaining the physical health of a human, from what Astral had researched. In ancient days, they were essential to a human’s development. This was why the Astral beings kept humans together in units. Looking at Yuma’s hunched over body and high levels of stress, perhaps this was why separation from the family unit was considered a negative. 

  “Miss?” echoes Astral.

  “I want to be with them, even though they’re gone,” explains Yuma. 

  “But that’s illogical.”

  “Humans are an illogical species,” replies Yuma with a sniffly chuckle. 

  “Why do you want to be with them?”

  Yuma pauses, holding Astral’s mismatched eyes. Even in the darkness they faintly glowed. 

  “There’s many reasons why. For one, I want to hear my sister arguing with ma again. They always fought over the silliest things. Then, I want to see my father again so we can go on a hunt. Even the court jester, Tokunosuke, would be a welcome sight. They were the people that helped raise me to be the person I am today.”

  So this confirms the theory of ancient family units contributing to an individual’s overall wellbeing. Astral places a hand on their chin.

  “Do you need…a hug?” asks Astral, pulling up a term from one of their old readings. 

  Immediately, the prince’s brows spring up. 

  “Yes,” he says. “You have hugs?”

  “No,” says Astral. “They’re an archaic custom that I read about.”

  “It looks like you need one too then.”

  Taken aback, the Chancellor tilts their head.

  “I do?”

  “You’re lonely,” says Yuma. “You always seem to be alone, even when you’re surrounded by people. You don’t seem to do anything but observe.”

  Astral’s brows knit. According to their constituents’ reports, they were doing an excellent job at fulfilling their duties. Why did Yuma’s observation contrast with theirs? They did more than observe situations…most definitely. And they are certainly not alone. 

  “I object. You are with me,” they reply. 

  “Do you want to know how a hug feels?” offers Yuma. 

  The Chancellor gazes at the human boy for a few moments. They slowly blink. 

  “Permission granted,” they say. 

  They gasp as Yuma pulls them into an embrace, his skin warm and wet with tears. They can hear Yuma’s heart beat in a slow rhythm, a constant thump, thump similar to a drum beat. He is so… alive in a sense that it takes Astral’s breath away. His organs are constantly working away to maintain homeostasis. This imperfect yet perfect system of tissue was ensuring that Yuma could smile, play, run and cry. The world fills with color and sorrow as Astral feels themself…ascending with this human in their arms. 

  And then Yuma pulls away and Astral is cold. Colder than the night. Colder than space. They stare at Yuma with widened eyes. 

  Thump. Thump. Thump. Their hand rises to their chest and they look down at it in surprise. Something burns in their eyes and they wipe it away. Concern fills Yuma’s expression.

  “Are you alright?” he asks. 

  Astral stares down at the sheets, now dotted with dark spots. Were they…crying? They look up at Yuma and grabs his wrists, staring down at his hands. His index finger is still marked by the red dot that they had found him with. The heat in Yuma’s skin once again transfers to Astral and once again, warmth envelops them. 

  “I cannot cry. I was not made to cry,” utters Astral. 

  Yuma offers them his own teary smile.

  “You can function however you’d like. We weren’t born with any purpose but to live.”

  “Living…,” breathes Astral. 

  Their heart beating. Warmth filling their body. Tears streaming from their eyes. Was this living, then? 

  🥀

  Another diversion. Vector scratches his head at the text before him. A prince was supposed to come and kiss Yuma awake or something. Peeking into the Astra Chancellor’s chambers with his spyglass, Vector frowns. Well, they definitely didn’t seem like a creep. He supposes he should be glad for that. There were other versions of Sleeping Beauty that put the original version of Rapunzel to shame. 

  Checking his watch, he sees that the arrow was drawing quite close to the end. 

  “What kind of happy ending is this…?” mutters Vector as he watches Astral dry Yuma’s tears.

  “Scale?” offers his hat. 

  “Yeah, sure, why not?” 

  His hat spits up the scale and Vector catches it.

  “Sleeping Beauty,” says Vector, snorting at the name. 

  The scale remains still. The sniper purses his lips. Perhaps the universe agreed that Yuma wasn’t so pretty as well. If Vector had been that shallow, he wouldn’t have accepted Yuma’s marriage proposal in the first place. To see him in this other life, bursting with the same boundless energy and kindness, makes him want to scream. Now others would get to hold his hand. Now others could whisper secrets in his ear that he would easily forget. They will make him laugh and cry, his mind entirely wiped of the previous lives he has had. He will never ever think of Vector again. And Vector would be condemned to watch, bound to the shadows. 

  “The Sleeping Prince,” repeats Vector. 

  Once again, nothing. 

  “Oh come on, he’s been through enough…,” mumbles Vector. 

  He expected the scale to have slightly favored the white jade. Sunlight fills the land as a new day passes. To fairytale characters, time passed by regularly. To Vector, hundreds of years could pass in the blink of an eye. In the branches of a bare and white tree, Vector leans back and watches as Yuma stands by Astral’s side, discussing the importance of enrichment in human settlements. Passion fills every motion he makes, from the impatient toe taps to every point he made on the map. The duo work tirelessly for days, meeting humans and Astral beings alike. 

  As the days pass, the tenseness in Astral’s shoulders loosen. They smile more. Sometimes, they even laugh. It usually occurred when they were in Yuma’s presence. Vector’s stomach begins to twist itself in knots as he sees the two grow closer and closer. With their growing relationship comes more ambitious projects. The humans begin to develop more emotions. Music soon becomes a regular occurrence in Astral’s sphere of governance. 

  Yuma and Astral kiss. Vector looks down at his watch with bloodshot eyes. For some reason, the needle was agonizingly close to the end but refused to budge. Perhaps this was a part of his punishment. To watch his loved one fall in love with others that are not him, over and over again. And with each incarnation he has, he will grow further from the prince that Vector remembered, laughing beneath the delonix trees. 

  Blue crystals begin to fall from the sky, this world’s version of rain. Vector’s hat spits out an umbrella. Ignoring it, Vector allows the crystals to pelt him. It was the closest thing he had to feeling alive these days. 

  🥀

  “The Will of Astra has arrived!” declares Astral’s notification system.

  A pang fills Astral’s chest. It must have been fear. They look up from Yuma’s most recent proposal just as the doors to the governmental office open. An imposing silhouette with large shoulders and long hair enters through the door. 

  “Eliphas,” greets Astral. 

  “Chancellor Astral,” greets their leader. “News of your projects have reached me. They are not part of Astra’s program.”

  “Our productivity levels have reached record highs due to these projects,” says Astral, trying to keep their voice even. 

  Eliphas scans Yuma’s notes, the prince’s handwriting scrawled and disorderly. He frowns.

  “Are these the notes of your temporally displaced human?”

  “They are.”

  “Permission to read them?”

  “Permission granted.”

  Astral steps aside, their heart hammering in their chest. Eliphas picks up the notes, scanning through them. 

  “Your human’s notes are displeasing to me. I cannot follow their logic.”

  “Humans rely on their intuition on an equal level to their reason,” explains Astral.

  Eliphas grunts and sets the notes down. His gaze stops on Astral, sending a chill down their spine.

  “I sense irregularities in you as well.”

  Astral’s mouth is dry. They shrink under Eliphas’ gaze. 

  “It is the result of interacting with humans. We have much to learn from them. Music, for example. They possess the ability to synthesize waveforms to create pleasing arrangements! Their emotions are what fuel them to work so hard for our country. Family, friendship, creativity…”

  Astral trails off as Eliphas silences them with a glare.

  “Our species have surpassed the need for emotions due to their illogical nature. Are you proposing to erase our progress and return us to a state equal to that of humans?”

  “We are equal,” snaps Astral.

  His leader’s eyes widen. Astral freezes, the weight of their words sinking into their stomach.

  “Subversion. That is a crime,” breathes Eliphas. 

  Astral’s mouth is dry but they force themself to continue on, clinging onto the image of Yuma’s determined expression. 

  “We are not born with set purposes. We can serve any function we wish, as long as we are aware of our free will,” presses Astral. “I thought that I was born to serve my constituents, but I can also teach, process and feel emotions on my own.”

  “Another subversion. You must be reprogrammed.”

  “I object,” growls Astral. “How can you fight against progress and success? Look at the data. The health of humans and Astral beings have improved in my sphere due to integration. Not only that, our productivity levels have risen far above predicted levels. We now have time for recreation and exploration. This will only yield to new inventions and schools of thought.”

  Eliphas grits his teeth. It was the truth. He had seen the impressive reports from the chancellor’s sphere. The high numbers had irked him. In a world where equality and uniformity were valued, these numbers constantly fought against Astra’s ideals. 

  “You and your human must be reprogrammed,” breathes Eliphas. “I have issued the order via the Astranet.”

  “If you reprogram us, you must reprogram our entire sphere,” says Astral. “You will be met with violence, chaos and resistance.”

  Chaos. The word makes Eliphas feel something akin to rage. He grabs Yuma’s notes.

  “I will be destroying this. Where is your human?”

  “His name is Yuma,” corrects Astral. “And he is currently working on a project.” 

  “He must cease his efforts. They will be destroyed.”

  “You can’t!” protests Astral. “He’s speaking to the people!”

  “Come with me,” orders Eliphas. “You will stop him by your own hands and then both of you will be brought in for reprogramming.”

  “Reprogram? Don’t you mean eliminate him?!” snaps Astral. 

  Eliphas gazes at them with cool eyes, his expression as placid as before.

  “If he cannot serve Astra’s will, then he is unessential,” he replies. “Now come, follow me.”

  Despite all of their efforts, Astral feels themself following Eliphas. It had been part of their programming—part of every Astral being’s programming—to obey Eliphas without fail. Despite their deviations, their core programming remained. A pang fills Astral’s chest. As the doors to the governmental office close behind them, they send a prayer to the stars above. 

  🥀

  “Doesn’t it feel good to see color and create?” asks Yuma, his voice ringing across the city’s square. 

  Thousands of faces look up at him and cheer. The prince smiles, his heart soaring upon seeing smiles on Astral beings and humans alike. As of late, more color has filled the city. In the crowd, he sees shirts of green, red and orange. Children happily bang on their drums and blow on their whistles. Citygoers clap in agreement. 

  “You can be anything! There is no need to follow your title or name. As long as you know that you are your own individual—”

  “Cease,” calls a resounding voice. 

  The Astral beings immediately silence. The humans look at their counterparts in confusion until a large shadow engulfs Yuma. Turning around, Yuma gasps upon seeing the Astral being that towered over him. Eliphas. He had seen him in pictures detailing the lands of Astra. Displeasure fills the being’s face as he looks down at Yuma. 

  “I accuse you and Chancellor Astral of subversion and sentence you to reprogramming,” declares Eliphas. 

  Behind him, Astral helplessly stands. Below Yuma, worried murmurs fill the crowd. 

  “What have I done?” asks Yuma, his voice echoing across the silent square. 

  “You have promoted a culture of chaos and have gone against Astra’s values of equality and uniformity,” booms Eliphas. 

  “None of us are the same!” protests Yuma. “From the youngest Astral being to the oldest human, all of us are capable of free will!” 

  “Subversion!” declares Eliphas. 

  Yuma winces at his loud voice. He grits his teeth and forces himself to carry on. 

  “They weren’t living, when you put them in empty homes and silent cities. They weren’t living, just surviving day to day without purpose.”

  “All individuals have purpose in the functions that they are assigned!” booms Eliphas.

  “They were no better than unfeeling automations!” argues Yuma.

  Although Eliphas’ glare chilled him to the bone and his words shook his very soul, Yuma remained where he was and continued to speak. He could feel the gaze of thousands on his back, their hope floating to the sky like countless stars. 

  “Listen…!” gasps Yuma. “This is living.”

  Eliphas pauses. Silence fills the air until Yuma begins to clap. It begins with a child’s high and lonely voice. Joined by other claps and voices, the song soon flows into a familiar tune Yuma had taught Astral’s citizens. 

  The sky is blue so where are you?

Lovely and twittering bluejay?

I’ve climbed mountains high, I’ve traversed deserts low

I’ve swum through seas and climbed up trees 

In search of you

  No matter where you fly, I will find you

For your cackling brings me such joy

Together we will laugh and play ‘til the sun sleeps and the moon sings

The oceans will dry and the skies will cry

But my love for you will never die

  Illogical. Silly. Absurd. Yuma sings the song with all of his might, holding Eliphas’ gaze the entire time. His eyes fill with tears upon seeing Astral join along after the second time around. Eliphas remains unmoved by the procession and raises a hand for silence. Despite that, the song repeats itself, the voices louder than before. 

  Taking a deep breath, Yuma grabs Eliphas’ large hands. He continues to sing, picturing the lonely bluejay in his mind. In Eliphas, he sees his father’s stern features. In Eliphas’ desire to protect his people, he sees his mother. In Eliphas’ stern voice that could split the skies, he sees his headstrong sister. And in Eliphas’ strength, he sees Kotori. Although he would never be able to see them again, they would live on in everyone that he would meet.

  The Astral being tries to pull himself away from Yuma’s grasp, but the prince refuses to release his grasp. As the song begins for a third time, he can feel Eliphas’ hold slackening. 

  “We’re the same, you and I,” says Yuma over the din. “We’re the same because of how different we are.”

  “I-illogical,” protests Eliphas, warmth filling his body. 

  He can feel the tiny human’s heart beat in his chest as if it were his own. Yuma’s passion crashes against him like ocean waves, nearly overpowering him with their strength. Joys, sorrows and pain flood Eliphas’ chest as he gazes out at the united humans and Astral beings. Gazing down at the human who refused to release his grip, Eliphas took a deep breath and began to mouth the words to the song. 

  🥀

  Ding! Vector gazes down at his watch. The arrow had finally hit the end. He looks out at the colorful square. Even from his perch at the top of the tower, the singing fills his ears. Eliphas’ shoulders lower. He slowly lowers himself into a kneeling position. 

  “Scale,” orders Vector. 

  His hat immediately spits it up.

  “Sleeping Beauty,” says Vector. 

  The scale tips toward the white jade. A deserving hero. 

  Vector wets his lips as Yuma pulls Astral into an embrace. The two passionately kiss, color filling Astral’s body. His fingers itch for the trigger regardless. After watching Cinderella get his deserved happy ending, he had been raring for a new undeserving hero. It was cruel of fate to place him in his former prince’s fairytale. If he lets Yuma go, he will be freed from the cycle of samsara. Then, Yuma would be allowed to choose if he wished to reincarnate or move on into the heavens. 

  If he ascends to heaven, he will be given all the memories of his former lives. Then, he will remember Vector and all the joys and sorrows that they had shared. Yet they will never be able to meet in person again, for their two existences were on different planes. They would live apart for the rest of eternity. Perhaps Yuma wouldn’t even think about him, too taken by the other individuals he had met. 

  But if Vector pulls the trigger, Yuma will continue to be reborn into other stories, oblivious of Vector’s existence as he skulked through the shadows and executed undeserving heroes.

  Suffer without him or suffer with him. 

  Vector already knows what he wants.

  Before he can regret it, Vector takes his aim and fires.

[starrysnowdrop]

“  you’re mine now. and i won’t let anyone take you from me.  ”

Dark!G'raha AU

“You’re mine now, and I won’t let anyone take you from me.”

Dark!G’raha AU

The large, imposing doors to the Ocular swung open, revealing a raven haired Raen woman dressed all in black leather armor, a black and red cape billowing behind her, and with a katana hanging from her hip. She walked into the blue crystalline and gold adorned chamber with her head held high. The samurai walked towards the hooded man standing in front of a tall mirror on the far wall. Her ocean blue eyes lit up as he smiled warmly at the sight of her appearing before him.

“Ah, Yume, you have returned. What is your answer?”

In a swift motion, Yume kneeled before the shrouded man and reached out to him, taking his crystallized hand in hers.

“My Lord Exarch, I, Yume Aino, pledge myself to you, with all of my heart, body, and soul. You shall have my sword, my loyalty, and my love, now and always.” Still kneeling, the Raen looked up at the Exarch lovingly before continuing, “From this day forth, I shall be your Warrior of Darkness.”

“Yume, my love, you needn’t be so formal when no one else is around.” The Crystal Exarch shook his head as he took his other hand and rubbed her ivory scaled cheek, his fingers gliding down her face with the gentlest of touches. “Still, you have made me the happiest man alive. You have given me more than I could ever hope for. Thank you, for believing in me, believing in our cause, and believing in us.”

Though his eyes were hidden from sight, Yume could see the smirk adorn his face.

“Now, as much as I love to see you on your knees, I think we shall wait till we are truly alone for such pleasures.”

Yume returned the flirty gaze as she rose to her feet, “As you wish… my lord.”

As soon as they were at eye level with each other, their arms enveloped each other and Yume presses her lips onto his. Deepening the kiss, the Exarch pulled her in closer to his chest, while Yume ran her hands along his hood, pulling it down to reveal his bright red hair fading to silver on the ends and his catlike ears relaxed to his head.

“Oh Raha…” Yume moaned as he began to kiss down her scaled neck. “You but say the word, and I shall bring my all to bare against Garlemald.”

G’raha came up for air and as Yume opened her eyes, she was looking into the depths of his ruby red Allagan Royal eyes. He shook his head before he ran his crystalline thumb along her bottom lip, with his other hand rubbing her back.

“I don’t want you on the front lines, not yet. I still fear for your safety, as much as I know there is no one more fearsome on the battlefield than you.”

“You believe there are still more stores of Black Rose out there?”

“I am unsure, but forgive me for being overtly cautious.”

Yume nodded before she rested her head on G’raha’s shoulder as he ran his fingers through her hair.

The Exarch closed his eyes as he held her to his form, not wanting to let her go. “You’re mine now, and I won’t let anyone take you from me, not again. Not Black Rose, not our godsdamned duty, not any would be suitors, not even Cid Garlond. You’re mine, Yume.”

((That’s all for now!! I’ll just leave y’all hanging, wondering what the hell this is all about… 😉 Thank you so much for the amazing prompt @transcendentafflatus!!! 😘🥰💖))

[silent-scythe]

Mine

More Nessian fanfic bc I’m Nessian trash :) It’s unedited so there are probably mistakes here and there, my apologies for that. Hope you guys enjoy! 

Summary: In which Nesta gets a little protective. 

Word Count: 1.4K

Warnings: mild cursing

༺༻

Nesta twirled the glass in her hand, the dark wine swirling with the motion. She sat with her legs crossed, chin high, like Amren had taught her. She looked like that of an ancient and powerful queen holding court, despite sitting on a stool in the middle of a bar. Her storm like eyes swept over the room, calculating and pure ice. 

Her lips, which sat in a firm, fierce line, and her hair, done in a braided bun- although no longer hiding the tips of her ears- gave her the image of pure regality. 

Her silver gown, which brought out the blue flecks in her thunderstorm-eyes, shimmered and shifted with every one of her elegant movements. It fit tightly, with a somewhat modest neckline and a plunging back, revealing a stretch of smooth skin and lithe muscle. A sash of darker gray adorned her waist, and underneath, the silver fabric spilled out into a long skirt that touched the floor, gliding behind her when she walked. It fit her, hugging her curves mimicking her motions whenever she moved. The gray-toned gown itself wasn’t sparkly- unless you counted the shimmering fabric- although her jewelry definitely was. 

On her slender wrist was a small silver bracelet, and in her hair were pins, the end encrusted in crystalline jewels. Most eye-catching, however, was the ruby she wore on her neck, the gem resting just above her collarbones. It wasn’t large, like the jewels Amren favored, but it wasn’t small either. It was the color of fresh blood, deep red like someone’s siphons. 

And it sure did attract attention. Five years ago, she would have cowered and shivered, would’ve never worn something like this, would’ve stayed home and wrecked herself beyond recognition. But now, she did not shy away from all the gazes; relished it, even. 

Witch, kingslayer, demon, queen, death, whore, whatever they called her, she didn’t care.

Nesta Archeron only had eyes for one particular person, who happened to be standing in the middle of the dance floor. 

Cassian had worn a suit tonight, contrasting heavily with the Illyrian leathers or casual clothes he usually wore. He instead wore a white undershirt, which was slightly rumpled and definitely not buttoned at the top, with a black suit over it. His hair was combed for once, the top half in a messy bun, a few strands falling out and framing his face. 

“That bastard looks put together for once,” Amren said from besides her. 

Amren, with her cunning silver eyes and intimidating aura, had scared off everyone around them. She wore a black top and similar pants, both made out of that billowing fabric she preferred. On her were necklaces and bracelets of all kinds, all golden, adorned with jewels of all colors. How she managed to make them match so well was beyond Nesta. 

Nesta raised her glass to her lips, taking a sip, before turning to Amren. The two had become close friends again, repairing that void in their relationship three years ago, and becoming the best of friends once more. Together, they had the most pleasurable time terrorizing males.

“Give Rhys the credit. Rhys was the one who picked it out for him,” Nesta replied with a smile. 

Her relationship with the High Lord was… professional. Being his emissary, they were definitely at least on speaking terms. Both had apologized, and although they were still wary of each other, their relationship was definitely warming up. 

Amren snorted, putting her glass down onto the countertop. “Of course Rhys did. Give the dog a literal instruction manual and he still would have no fashion sense.” 

Despite Cassian and Amren’s constant bickering and insulting, they were still close, that was for sure. Amren would kill anyone who truly insulted Cassian, although she’d probably have a good laugh first. 

Amren, whose glass was refilled with something that still looked a bit too similar to blood, tilted her head to the side, some of her black hair falling across her face with the motion. It made her look no less scary. She angled her glass towards that direction as well. Nesta followed her movement with her eyes, looking towards where she pointed- towards Cassian. 

“He seems to be enjoying his time now, isn’t he?” Amren teased, a giant smirk on her face. 

Nesta’s eyes narrowed. A female had approached Cassian; they were talking, and the strange female was much too close for Nesta’s liking. She had even reached out a hand to rest on Cassian’s arm. 

She got up off the stool with a sudden moment, somehow still graceful. Her dress, like liquid metal, swished as she got up. She put her own glass down onto the table, aware of Amren’s catlike smirk. 

“Have fun, girl,” Amren purred. 

Nesta, who seemed to glide across the floor, the slit on the sides of her dress revealing inches of her skin with each step, reached Cassian in no time. The woman- no, Fae female, who was next to Cassian seemed insignificant in Nesta’s presence. 

Nesta couldn’t blame her. She held herself with an intimidating posture that at times seemed even more majestic than Rhys. 

The female, who turned towards Nesta, wore a sky blue dress, the bright kind that Nesta hated. 

Nesta came to a stop before her. She met the female’s eyes with an unwaveringly cold gaze, then trailed her eyes down, and back up, eyebrows raising, before turning towards Cassian. 

Assessed. Assessed and dismissed. 

“Cassian,” she greeted. “Did I disrupt anything?” her eyes flashed. “My sincerest apologies if I did.” 

Cassian only arched one eyebrow, head tilted, giving her a lazy, slow grin that set her aflame. His hazel eyes, turned amber in the dark lighting, glowed, only further lighting that fire in her. Then he winked, and Nesta would be damned if she didn’t admit it was hot. 

Nesta’s eyes fluttered, trying hard to fight the blush rising in her cheeks. 

Cassian dipped his head. “No, I don’t think you did,” he replied smoothly. He put his hand on top of the female’s- she still had her hand on his arm. 

Then, deliberately slowly, he removed it. 

Nesta clenched her fists, power surging, raging, begging to be unleashed. 

Cassian only turned his gaze to hers once more, eyes catching hers for a moment before he turned back to the female in the dress that was extremely ugly in Nesta’s opinion.

“It looks like our conversation must come to an end now,” Cassian said to her. “My mate here is… I think perhaps she wants something.” 

When the female didn’t step away, Nesta turned her scalding gaze onto her, her glare sharper than a dagger. At last, Nesta smelt the fear on her as she turned, disappearing into the crowd. 

The moment she disappeared, Nesta turned back towards Cassian and slapped his arm. 

“Ow!” he exclaimed. “What the hell was that for?” 

“For that.”

Cassian faked confusion. “For what?” 

“For that!” Nesta seethed. “You asshole.” 

Cassian’s only reply was to take Nesta’s hand, gripping it gently, twirling her into his embrace. He let his hand drop from hers, and his other hand snaked around to her waist. She let out the smallest gasp at the action before slapping him once more. 

“Again, sweetheart?” he asked. “I didn’t know you were such a sadist.” 

“A sadist?” Nesta shot back, incredulous. “That didn’t even hurt, you sensitive little bat.” 

Cassian pouted, and Nesta swore it made him even more handsome. 

Nesta reached one hand up towards his face, tracing his lips. “You’re mine.”

She let her fingers slide over to the left, and Cassian complied, turning his face. She smirked, her fingers trailing his jawline, down to his chin. 

“You’re mine,” she repeated, hand falling.

Cassian caught it, his fingers closing around her wrist, a sinful smile spreading. 

Prove it.

Nesta didn’t hesitate, capturing his lips in a hungry kiss.

Cassian’s lips slanted across Nesta’s, the two of them lost in their own world as they devoured each other. Cassian bit down on her lower lip and she nearly yelped out of surprise before nipping him back.

After minutes, they parted, both heaving for breath. 

Nesta’s eyes gleamed in victory. “Mine.” 

༺༻

Please comment if you liked it! Your comments literally make me so happy haha <3

[failedintsave]

Rejoin 2 electric boogaloo 🎸

[WIP asks]

I couldn't decide where to cut this off so this is kind of a lengthy section from chapter one.

Knees cracking as he stood upright again, Toki waved goodnight around the table and made his way to Skwisgaar's—no, their—room. The glossy white interior may not look changed to the untrained eye, but to Toki it was like a Spot the Difference puzzle from one of the Highlights magazines in the doctor's waiting room. For one, he always made the bed in the morning, something Skwisgaar had never bothered to do. There sat Deddy, nestled between primly fluffed pillows. Twin bathrobes swung against the back of the door as he closed it, a pair of bunny-shaped slippers peeked out from beneath the bed, a set of phone chargers trailed over the top of the dresser. But most obvious was the other couple they shared the room with: the two guitars racked side by side.

He undressed and dumped his clothes into the hamper, peeling back the covers on his side of the bed and sliding into the crisp sheets. Curling on his side facing the door, Toki closed his eyes, pushing away thoughts of venue sizes and broadcast schedules and letting the starlit darkness envelop him.

The grass is cool beneath his bare feet, damp with dew or from recent rain, the ground soft and spongy as he turns to get his bearings. Overhead, the sky is a vast, empty expanse without stars or moon, but as he watches, faint sparks begin to erupt from all around. They rain down, a meteor shower, falling like cooling embers from a massive bonfire, and where they land they sink into the earth leaving smoking pits.

A tremor shakes the ground, and from one of the craters sprouts a crystalline spire, the flat planes of its four facets twisted in a gentle corkscrew. Another rises, then another and another, their warped surfaces shining like mirrors, boxing him in like a fun house maze. He winds his way between the pinnacles, his features exaggerated by the rippling reflections: giant eyes, pinched mouth, lopsided ears.

One of the falling cinders thumps to the ground ahead of him but doesn't burn its way through the soil. Smaller than the others, it cools and hardens, leaving behind an opaque ruby chunk of stone. He picks it up, no trace of warmth remaining in the jewel as he turns it over in his fingers, but an odd tingle races up his arms, goosebumps rising in its wake. He pockets the gem and continues weaving between the obelisks, trying to find his way free. He attempts to avoid looking at the distorted images staring back at him, but he reaches a dead end and another flash of red catches his eye.

Pickles stares back at him from the monolith's polished surface, his eyes blank. The reflection's limbs move to mimic his own gestures but the drummer's visage remains flat and unchanged. He turns, and the adjacent mirror shows him Murderface, his lips curled back in a silent snarl, brows cinched. He runs but disorientation sends him headlong into a wall where he thought there'd been an aisle before. He bounces off the cambered barrier, Nathan's piercing green eyes watching him scramble to his feet. Feeling along the glassy facade, he searches with his hands for a way out of the corner he's trapped himself in.

He stumbles when a gap appears, nearly falling on his face as he trips forward into another junction between spires, catching himself against the bottom of another diamond mirror. Familiar boots stand behind the translucent pane.

Skwisgaar's features are drawn and pale, hair closer to white than brilliant gold. The reflection doesn't mimic his movements as he clambers upright again, or when he reaches out instinctually to stroke a high cheekbone. His fingers meet cold stone rather than flesh, the barrier between them stopping him short. Skwisgaar raises his arm to match. His palm slams against the glass, the surface ringing with a high, clear note like a bell.

He screams.

Dun dun duuunnn! Lol