#are you about to open my eyes to another dazzling dimension?

[fisheito]

Super important question. Do you think Yakumo is ticklish?

wait hold on i have to look this up

[shock]

"Don't just play—do something!", Jack Abele, 01.21.24.

This is a companion piece to the collage I made about moving into the first place that felt like my home back in '21 (shown below). They have matching frames and are displayed together above our dining table! This second piece is a reflection on how my relationship to "home" has evolved since then, especially after proposing to my now fiancé last month. I'm really proud of it!

Text transcript:

FOR YOUR EYES ONLY

In the cold, thin clouds of interstellar space, written in the precise message of starlight:

What made you so interested in fireflies?

Imagine that they propel the environment into play: they STAND OUT, add color, chaos, curves moving behind and below, inside, outward along feedback loops, perplexing positive panic persuaded to make another form of animal art.

Love is a Many-Splendored Thing, a beautiful structure, flamboyantly scuzzy, sassy, a full bouquet of many wild ideas — a dazzling interplay between lightness and unclarity, trying things out, fancy, whimsical records looped with webs, half-truth surface textures composed of swirls within swirls, a performance of information, scene-setting details with many impressive, more tongue-in-cheek, unforeseeable aspects relatively stable and evolving at the same time.

Distinctly transitional.

The trouble with love is it's hard to describe in simple and consistent words. Beyond the jolting familiarity of self-similar, self-referential tessellating hues, the little comedy-drama fictions... you see openness, possibilities toward change; our very existence together antidote to the dull grind of the paradox that we live every moment in an indifferent universe yet having so much fun with friends, local communities, places, faces, even muddy bog holes.

Music! A Tribe Called Quest, The Beastie Boys, The Breeders, Nick Cave, Nine Inch Nails, Soundgarden, Santana and Crosby, Stills, and Nash, mud-caked at Woodstock, picking up Space Age scrap, cutting collaged paper, playing with magical little lights, heretically evolving in this meaningless, magnificent place fine-tuned just right to allow for life, love, and grunge to exist nevertheless.

Maybe what keeps me here, making art, is how beautiful it is for optimism to become the first expression of hope despite danger amid the disparate depth of our universe created by chaos.

Movement characterizes my "youthful, dynamic" journey, escapes to infinite other places somewhere else, afraid of considering complicated survival long-term, wherein risk is worth the reward. But something about your windy city reminded me what strange, cascading effects the fingers of two hands form together, intersect one another, interfere with fate, interlace like light radiating rays woven, at certain points, into dynamic singularities.

Mutualism is a happy hybrid of symmetry and chaos — a relationship, it's like the entire forest is blinking in sync.

Just as the fun is to make up a great story, the writer in me calls this piece, "Don't just play— do something!"

This time around, living offers a profound pivot from playing a game. Today we confront as animals, we're not far from dogs, domesticated punks at heart, manifold.

I am humbled, exhilarated, afraid yet strangely calm and clear "On Bended Knee"

(The term ground seems inapt.)

...Nor is it possible to describe...

The closest feeling to being the world itself? It is to have loved someone so much that you wanted to spend the rest of your lifetime with them, with each other.

We're writing a book. Adding a stroke of paint and words to illustrate what we became, a bright third dimension that can be seen from space to meet the generations to come, to simulate the uncountable whimsies they could achieve.

The mind already knows before the key touches the lock.

To watch firefly swarms with a mangy mutt.

That must be quite a sight to see.

BECAUSE THEY EXIST

NOWHERE ELSE ON EARTH.

[aneurinallday]

Green Eyes

Chapter 6: Fruit

The next time the door opened, Thomas was greeted by a warm smile. Alec had been looking forward to seeing him.

“You’re late,” the young man chided him.

Thomas checked his gold pocket-watch.

“By barely a minute,” he said, “Are you that keen to see me?”

As Thomas stepped inside, Alec saw that he was holding a brown paper bag.

“What have you got there, Mister Shelby?”

“Fruit. Thought it might be rude to show up empty-handed.”

“That’s very kind.” Alec took the bag from Thomas’s arms and set it on the kitchen counter.

Clara was sitting on the small rug, babbling in delight, thoroughly engrossed in an old teddy bear. Thomas reached down and tweaked her cheek before taking his seat. From his chair, he glanced around the flat, noticing that it seemed a little brighter than the last time he’d visited. A bunch of wild flowers, probably picked from the overgrown canalside, had been placed in a glass of water on the windowsill.

“Are you hungry?” Alec asked, “I can make a sandwich. I’ve got bread and cheese.”

“No, thank you.”

“What about tea?”

Even though Thomas had shown no expectation of sex, Alec seemed to have prepared for the eventuality. He smelled of cheap perfume and cheaper soap. His clothes looked a little newer, and the bed was neat and fresh. The thought filled Thomas with a deep discomfort. This wasn’t the Arcadia, a separate dimension where he could lose himself in smoke and make-believe. This was Alec’s home.

“Just tea,” he said firmly. “Nothing else.”

Alec rustled through the paper bag, unpacking a bunch of bananas, a pineapple, and a net of oranges. Exotic luxuries for a Saltley boy.

“Mister Shelby, you really shouldn’t have. These are expensive.”

“You strike me as someone who likes expensive things.”

Alec felt the unfamiliar texture of the pineapple between his hands, feeling the sharp rind prickle his palms, and then sniffed its leaves.

“I’ve never had one of these,” he said, “Thank you.”

“It’s nothing.”

Reaching the bottom of the bag, he hesitated before pulling out a small box.

“What’s this?” he asked.

“Chocolates. Do you like the chocolates?”

“I’m not sure. I only ate one once, a long time ago. I remember liking it.”

“Why don’t you jog your memory?”

Alec opened the little box. To him, the variety inside must’ve seemed dazzling. Milk, dark, white, caramel, hazelnut, almond, berry, even the newly invented orange-chocolate. Some were naked and topped with sprinkles of nuts or ornate swirls, others wrapped in gold or silver foil. He was spoiled for choice.

“Oh, Mister Shelby…” He picked the plainest-looking one and tentatively took a bite. Delight spread across his face. “They’re delicious!” he said.

“They’re from Belgium.”

“I love them. Can I give you a kiss?”

“If you want to.”

Thomas expected a kiss on the mouth, but Alec leaned down and gave him a peck on the cheek. It somehow felt sweeter. More genuine. Not the kiss of a lover, but the kiss of a wife.

Alec picked another chocolate at random, carefully unpeeled the delicate foil, and popped it in his mouth. Thomas watched as he munched innocently.

“Can Clara try one too?” Alec asked.

“No. She’s not old enough.”

“Then I’ll save the rest for later.”

Alec put the lid back on the box and set it aside. Then he fetched a spoon from the drawer and a small bowl from the cupboard, peeled a banana and began to mash it into mush.

“I was thinking,” said Thomas, “I know you said you don’t want my charity, but I’d still like to help you. If not for your sake, then for the little girl’s. If you’ll let me, I’ll find you a better place to live.”

“A proper house?” Alec asked. “With a bathroom and everything?”

“Yes. A proper house, somewhere nice. It doesn’t have to be in Birmingham - it could be London or Manchester or wherever you want. You could finally leave this life behind. Make a good home for yourself and her.”

After a pause, Thomas added:

“Or you could come and stay with me.”

The sound of the fork faltered. Alec was caught off-guard.

“I don’t know,” he said quietly, “If I stayed with you…You would own me. I don’t want that. Mister Cobb owned me for a long time. It’s not a life I want to live again.”

“I’m not Cobb.”

“Still…You might change. People show one face when they want something, then a different face once they’ve got what they want.”

“That’s true of some, but not all.”

“Then perhaps you don’t know people like I do, Mister Shelby.”

“You’d be surprised at the things I know. I’ve met all sorts of creatures.”

“Did you ever meet one who had the power to take everything from you? And you had no brothers to protect you and no family to shelter you?”

Thomas said nothing. As he listened to the fork clinking against the chipped old bowl, he felt the lamp-lit dream of happiness slipping further and further away - and for a moment, he almost accepted his fate. He’d been a fool to even entertain it, let alone to suggest it. There were too many questions, too many obstacles, too many ways that he and Alec could fall apart. Was it even worth attempting?

He thought of Grace, and how she would feel about him bringing a strange whore into their lives. Into their home. Into their bed.

Then he felt a surge of resentment, and pushed away the thought of her. She was long gone - just bones in the ground. Just a painting on a wall. Just unworn jewellery gathering dust. So what did she have to worry about? Why should he care about the opinions of a dead woman? Why shouldn’t Thomas Shelby have everything he wanted?

Thomas rose to his feet, crossed the room to where Alec stood, and slid his arms around Alec from behind. He’d forgotten how good it felt to stand that close - to feel Alec’s curly hair tickling his cheek and breathe in his subtle scent.

“Come live with me,” he murmured, “I’ll take care of you. Of you and Clara. You won’t have to worry about her any more. She’ll have a painted nursery and all the toys and baubles she could ever want. And when she gets older, she’ll have a violin teacher and a white pony. And you…you’ll have a good night’s sleep every night.”

“And in return?”

“In return, nothing. I’ll never ask anything of you.”

“I’ve had offers like this before. They were all lies.”

“Do you think I’m a liar?”

“...No.”

“Then trust me. This is no place to raise a child, and you know it.”

“It’s better than the street.”

“She deserves more. You both do. Let me help you.”

Alec put down what he was doing, and placed his damp hands on Thomas’s arms, clasping them tightly.

“What about your son? Won’t he mind?” he asked.

“He doesn’t spend much time with me anyway. He prefers his nannies and his tutors. What do you say?”

Alec looked around at his flat, as if weighing the emotional cost of being in Thomas Shelby’s debt with the financial cost of being a Saltley whore.

“Can I think about it?” he asked quietly.

“Of course.”

Alec gave Thomas’s forearm a grateful squeeze. Behind them, Clara mewled.

“Let go, please. I need to feed her.”

Thomas released him and returned to his chair. With the bowl in one hand, Alec walked to where the baby lay, and sat cross-legged on the small rug. He scooped her up and cradled her on his lap. She babbled happily to see his face.

“My little love. My Clara,” he cooed to her. With the spoon, he began to feed her. “What do you think, my love? It tastes nice, doesn’t it? Mister Shelby bought it for us. He doesn’t look nice, but he is.”

For a while, Thomas simply sat and looked on as Alec fed the baby. Then he asked:

“Where’s the mother?”

“Gone.” Alec didn’t look up.

“Not coming back?”

“No. She was one of the girls at the Arcadia. Clara was…”

“An accident?”

“Yes. There was a client who…he…he liked to watch us together, and…”

“You don’t need to explain.”

“She wanted to keep it. When she started showing, we thought Mister Cobb would give her the sack. But he kept her around. Some clients like it when a woman is…well, you know.”

“Ah.”

“She had Clara in the back of the club, and then quit. Said she’d changed her mind and didn’t want anything to do with it. I’m not sure where she went.”

“And you’ve been raising Clara by yourself since then?”

“Yes.”

“You’ve done alright by her. She looks happy and healthy.”

A faint smile crossed Alec’s mouth.

“I wasn’t sure if she would live,” he whispered, “She was too small and she…she cried all the time. It’s why I stopped living at the club. I was afraid her crying would bother the customers, and Mister Cobb would take her away from me. One time, he got angry and wanted to get rid of her. He…”

Alec stopped, caught by the bad memory. He took a deep breath to recover himself.

“...I didn’t let him, though. I begged and begged until he got fed up and left her alone.”

“Well, you’re alright now, and so is she.”

“She’s perfect,” Alec corrected him. “She’s my perfect Clara. Aren’t you, Clara?”

He held her close and kissed her head lovingly. Behind Thomas’s calm blue eyes and placid face, there ached a sudden yearning. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d held his son.

The two years which Grace had got to spend as a mother, the short period during which the three of them were happy together, had been the only true and untainted joy he’d ever felt. It was a joy he knew he would never feel again, but that knowledge didn’t stop him from wishing - hoping against hope that Charles would shake him awake one morning, eager to play, and that he would open his eyes to find Grace alive at his side. Even a logical mind could wish.

As he sat there and watched Alec dote on his daughter, he knew that Alec had forgotten about everything else - about rent, about Cobb, about being a whore living in a rundown room in Saltley, about how his dreams of being a singer were never going to come true. In that brief moment, all Alec was thinking about was how much he loved Clara, and how happy he was to hold her.

And in that moment, Thomas knew he would do anything to protect that happiness.

[triptychgrip]

A Showdown of 'Extraness': my Yuri!!! on Ice x Fruits Basket Crossover

Cutting it close, but I made it in the nick of time for Fruits Basket Mondays!

My attempt to envision what might happen if my favorite anime characters were to meet practically wrote itself, but I suppose I shouldn't have been surprised, given that they are the two most extra people in the world: costume designer Ayame Sohma from Fruits Basket (Furuba) and figure skater/coach Viktor Nikiforov from Yuri!!! on Ice. You can now read the story here, which features, among other things:

-An instantly star-struck Yuuri who is dazzled by Ayame's appearance

-Pouty/jealous Viktor who wants to make sure his husband's eyes stay on him (and is even tempted to go against his doctors' advice not to jump quads in this endeavor)

-Yuki Sohma and Yuri Plisetsky, whose blood pressure readings might otherwise indicate they're dead, such is their exasperation with Viktor and Ayame's combined auras

-Mine and Ayame being moved to tears by Yuuri's explanation of his Yuuri on Ice routine

-Haru casually admitting to Yuri that Yuki is his first love

-and protective Yuki, defending his brother's extraness due to a misunderstanding

Ayame, Viktor, Yuuri, Mine, Yuki, and Yuri's meeting is made possible thanks to the meddling of Okukawa Minako, who has been a loyal client of Ayame and Mine's costume design business for many years, and suggests that the Katsuki-Nikiforovs utilize their expertise for an upcoming ice show.

Below is an excerpt that I hope piques your interest!

---------

“Indeed, the very opposite of a battle will be happening today!” Ayame cried out, his eyes beginning to glint with a sort of crazed fervor.

Axel, Lutz, and Loop just stared, for once rendered entirely speechless.

It was hard to tell if it was Ayame’s words or his general aura that had had such an impact on the triplets.

“Yuuri-kun! It’s Vik-chan’s equally extra twin!” Yuuko burst out, turning wide, enraptured eyes onto her childhood best friend.

The range of reactions this elicited truly ran the gamut.

Most pronounced was Viktor’s betrayed hiss of “What do you mean, ‘equally’?! You once called me the most extra person alive!”.

Then there was Ayame and Loop’s delighted clapping, as well as Mine and Axel’s expressions of earnest fascination.

But it was Yuki’s petrified reaction that immediately solidified Yuri’s sense of kinship with the young man, who was silently mouthing “equally?” over and over, with a visage of pure terror.

He knew the feeling all too well.

With Yuuri and Viktor having left Russia in the spring of 2019, he didn’t see them nearly as often as he used to when they’d trained alongside one another in St. Petersburg. As such, any period of prolonged exposure to the extremely over-the-top ‘Skate Spouses’ had to be handled with unwavering resolve.

He’d long accepted it as his cross to bear, and realized that he and Yuki were likely the only ones with a chance of preventing this business meeting from turning into a multi-hour ordeal. Long-winded monologues about the wonders of artistic collaboration and potential duels for Yuuri’s attention were likely the least of their worries.

“I think I’m beginning to understand why Minako was so eager for this meeting to occur,” Yuri cut in, dryly. “Let’s get to the ice. We only have a half-hour before public skate opens.”

With this, he indicated for the triplets to get a move-on, and started to push Yuuri and Viktor forwards (which interrupted the former’s intent examination of the exact dimensions of Ayame’s ridiculously long handkerchief).

As they began to move in an awkward shuffle, Viktor turned to his spouse, whispering urgently.

“Yuranya, I was just thinking: how about I switch up the choreography a bit for my part in ‘Yuuri on Ice’? Even just one quad wouldn’t do any harm, don’t you think? That ending triple flip could be swapped out–”

“ABSOLUTELY NOT!” Yuri bellowed, that blood pressure spike finally taking effect.

Poor Yuuko tripped over Ayame’s handkerchief in alarm, but at this point, the “train” of his rage had already left the station, barrelling right through the departure doors.

“Do I need to remind you of what your doctors said last week, YOU IDIOT?!?” he continued in a roar, hardly daring to believe Viktor’s foolishness. “You must be out of YOUR GODDAMN MIND– ” (“Yura! Language!”) “ –if you think I plan on spending the rest of the day in the emergency room, ALL BECAUSE YOU LET YOUR INSECURITY OVER SOME ATTRACTIVE STRANGER (“So you admit it! You do think he’s attractive!”) “ –land you FLAT ON YOUR ASS in the middle of the rink WITH A BUSTED KNEE!”

[gachawolfiebloom]

Your Pursuit Of Perfection

Story and Artwork By: @GachaWolfieBloom

Chapter 10: Don't Believe it's Deceptions

Summary: A few months after the events of WOTFI 2023, SMG4 starts having really bad dreams about the "Its gotta be perfect" incident. One night however, his fear allows the nightmares to break through and he gets taken to a horrific dimension. He finally meets the tv adware, who manipulates him into returning to his insane ways, intent on claiming much more than the perfect video. Now it's up to his friends to stop this madness and save SMG4. Can they do it in time or will they lose SMG4 forever? (In case you are unaware this is a sequel to the its gotta be perfect movie)

Tags: angst, its gotta be perfect, love confession, luigi, mario, meggy, melony, nightmares, scary, smg3, smg4, smg34, smg3 x smg4, tari, tv adware

Three couldn't believe his eyes. It was Four, back to his normal self. Well not exactly his "normal" self. He was wearing a thick blue robe and had on a sparkling crown like he was the damsel in distress that was about to be saved. Or maybe that's what someone wanted Three to believe...

"Four! You're okay!" Three ran up and embraced him with tears of joy that overflowed his eyes and spilled down his cheeks. "Of course! Why wouldn't I be? I am the ruler of the memes and have the most popular Youtube channel after all." Three wrapped his hands around Four's and looked straight into his ocean blue eyes. "That's wonderful, but what about our fri-"

The man dressed in royal blue stuck a finger over Three's mouth, signifying the silence he wished for. "Shhhh. You do not need to worry about them ever again. Besides, I have a question for you." What could Four possibly want from Three? A favor? A compliment? A apology? A proposition?

Four pulled out another crown that looked similar to his and hovered over Three. His gut was telling him to run, to smack the crown out of that dreadful grip, to do anything but stand there, but he didn't. Some other feeling made him stay willingly. To not let Four out of his sight ever again. "Will you, Smg3..." He listened closely to what his partner said as his pupils were shaped like hearts. Beginning to kneel down on his knees and bow his head, not taking a second off the dazzling man of his dreams.

"Forget the past..." Three slowly nodded as he removed his hat to let Four place the crown on his head. Was he finally going to get the life his heart wanted. To be with Smg4 in peace and tranquility together. "And be my..." Four had almost placed the crown atop Three's head when suddenly his romantic thoughts vanished.

"Did you say...forget the past?" Four raised an eyebrow and said "Yes. Yes I did." Three pushed the crown away, gaining back his sense of logic. The others were in danger and he couldn't just forget them. "But I don't want to forget my past. What about all we have been through since we met. And our friends. Don't you want to save them?"

This prince of blue was starting to get irritated. "This is much harder than I thought." he said to himself. Taking a deep breath, he cleared his throat and said in a sweet voice "But Three, don't you want to be my side? Forever?"

"Disgusting. Having to suck up to this fool. I can't believe I'm connected to him." Three began to succumb, losing his bravery just like Four did. "Yes..." He closed his eyes, thinking to himself. "I will protect you Four, no matter what." He slowly opened them to see Four's squinted eyes as he placed the crown on his head. Wait...his eyes don't look...

Three placed the crown down and said "Four? Do you care about me?" The man jumped back surprised, placed a fake smile, and laughed nervously. "Of course!" Three could tell something was off about him. "That's it.? After all we've been through?" Four and Three rarely ever admitted how much they cared for each other now that they were friends (and perhaps even more), but he would never make a quick remark like that when it came down to this. "This is the first time that I've hated you for saying you like me..." Three doubtfully said.

He then spat out in a fit of realization that this was a phony trick. "YOU'RE NOT FOUR! SHOW YOURSELF IMPOSTER!!!" The fake Four started to laugh as the scene melted away and the dark, possessed Four stood in his place. "It seems you have discovered my little trick. Not only can I create your nightmares, but I can create your dreams too!" Tentacles started to engulf Three as he tried to speak in a gasping breath. "But Four I l-l...I lo-lov..."

The being in front of him just rolled his eyes as he pulled out the key. "Is this what you were looking for? Come with me! We're going to take a little stroll." The tentacles pulled him all the way to that dastardly Mr Puzzles. "Master. I have captured him just as you wished."

"Excellent." He looked at the squirming and exhausted Three as he placed a hand on his chin. "Poor Smg3. Couldn't save your dear little friend? Don't worry, it's too late for him and your friends!" Three growled with anger as he screamed in an exasperated breath "I will never surrender to you creep! Throw me in a dungeon if you want! I don't care!"

The TV screen started to glitch as Mr Puzzles started to snicker. "Help? What could a silly, weak, pretentious fool like yourself possibly help me with? The nightmare has only just begun!"

Who can stop me now?

Chapter 11: It's time to take your final bow

[ask-house-of-suns-au]

They share the look. Then SunBOT just laughed nervously, his eyes turned left and right. He tried to run, but he was held back by Sunny.

SunBOT: WHAT? NO? PTFF!!! HAHA!! NOOOOO... WHO TOLD YOU THAT? (*He whispers loudly with his group*) She knows our secret, we have to kill her!

Sun: What?!

(*Sun startled, he grabbed SunBOT's neck, and immediately pushed the yellow animatronic back from behind.*)

No no no.. no one will kill anyone.

(He tries to look like he believes in these words he said in front of Astraia, but his hands move constantly*)

(*He shakes his head and hands violently, his movements were chaotic and stuck as if he didn't know whether he should stay to calm Astraia or turn back to deal with SunBOT.*)

Haha.. Can you excuse us for like a moment? Hahah... Thank you!! Okay!!!

(*He chose SunBOT*)

What is WRONG with you??? Why are you like this?!!!

SunBOT: I'm just dumb and like shiny things. :((

Sun: Noo-- That's not what I mean. Okay...okay... We can fix this. (* He takes a deep breath*) Right, Sun?

Dark Sun: (*decided he wants to be a little shit today*) Oh I don't know, I kinda like this idea.

SunBOT: thank you!!!

(*Their faces lit up, as if there were thousands of stars sparking inside their eyes.*)

Sun: (*almost screeching*) YOU ARE NOT GOING TO SIDE WITH HIM ABOUT THIS!!

Dark Sun: Why not? What's the matter Sun? He is telling the truth. We can easily get rid of the problems if the problem never exists in the first place.

All the suns, even the dead ones suddenly appearing here is already weird. Now there are other strangers too. Which... How long do you think it will be before something more dangerous appears there?

(*He stared into space, his voice turned cold.*)

And even maybe... BIG MAYBE in your dimension?

What if that strange force kidnapped your Moon? Or Dazzle? Or Jack? And just throw them around the dimensions and voids like nothing matters?

(*He moved closer to Sun with every word he said. The distance between them is only an inch now. Red eyes stared with interest looking deep into these pearly eyes, his fingers stretched out to tap the fringe of Sun's neck.*)

(*Sunshine is sitting on the ground, whispering to SunBOT.*)

Is it me or is there a lot of tension between them?

(*Cringe Sun is leaning on Sundrop eating popcorn, the one who had already collapsed in a heap on the ground sleeping peacefully.*)

No my child, you are true. And this is about getting delicious.

Sun: I don't know... But it is wrong. We can just leave her here...like that... We need to help her... She... Maybe her family still waits for her....

Dark Sun: Omg... are you serious? I can't believe you are this naive...

Sun: What?

Dark Sun: A human girl suddenly shows up here and you think it is a coincidence?

Someone threw her there, intentionally. Something directed her direction to our void. And even I, don't know how or why...

(*He actually looked vulnerable as he said those things.*)

Sunny: I am not it is a good idea... Should we do anything about it...? Should we get involved...?

Cringe Sun: No. No. No..shush... shush...

(*Cringe Sun pressed his finger over Sunny's mouth.*)

Don't be a killjoy, dad. Let it be... Let me have this. Daddy you don't understand. 😩😩Baby need some drama for the morning 🌅🌅🌅

Sun: So what? Are you suggesting we kill her off like some flies? Do some horrible experiment on her to study the reason why she can get here?

Dark Sun: I am just saying... Things start getting complicated and you need to take actions. Or do you really want to wait... long enough, doing nothing, just to let another Nexus situation happens?

Cringe Sun: Oh snap?! Damn girl, he pulled that move this early? Damn!!!

Cringe Sun's mouth opened wide, gasping in unbelievable. He accidentally dropped the popcorn, and spilled it on Sundrop's head.

Sundrop: What? Why? Huh? I don't know.. I don't know anything...z...z...z... (The looks of confus-ing*)

Sun: ... I am not--- I don't ---

Dark Sun: Because it is exactly what you are doing right now. Just stay back, and let me hand the show for you...

(*His hand reached out to touch Sun's elbow, feeling like he was almost trying to pull Sun closer to his hip.*)

Don't worry, I am not doing anything... too terrible... I am not Moon...

Sunny: Okay. Okay. Let's stop here.

(*Sunny walked in, standing in front of Sun like an obstacle. The other Suns stood behind Sunny, no one said anything but they all had the same thought process.*)

Dark Sun, you are making Sun uncomfortable. If you don't want to help then go somewhere else and cool your head. You're not welcome here until you become stable again.

(*Then he turns back to Astraia*)

We are sorry, little girl. Oh, I mean Astraia...for wasting your time and scaring you but rest assured we will find a way to get you home. We-- I promise.

(Let me just scoot my human OC in here, hehe.)

*Astraia peeked in* Um… Hello? Is there anybody here?

* Dark Sun cursed under his breath.* I swear when I get my hands on these little shit... (He looks at this strange human, unaware of how to react. He puts up a caring smile, looking totally innocent) Hmm? Hello, little girl? Who are you?

[elysrian]

the shop beyond space and time.

There is a shop at the corner of 12 H. Lane.

Indiscreet, with a sign that’s not too memorable and a strange name displayed upon it ; it’s an open secret among the people that it’s not your typical shop. Sometimes it appears and disappears akin to a ghost ship, while others insist that it’s always been there, just shifting locations due to the ever-changing nature of property prices.

But above all, if there’s something you really need, simply step in and ask the shopkeeper for it.

AU work, crossposted from AO3.

NOTES: 'the shop beyond space and time' is a pocket dimension that does not follow the rules of the world ; like its name, the actual shop space itself is located in its own pocket dimension, whereas the exterior of the shop makes itself at home in any unassuming and abandoned shop in virtually any time. there have been no records found, but it is possible that the shop has the ability to appear in other dimensions as well, and serve as a gateway between two dimensions.

not much is known about the shopkeeper themselves ; whatever little records state that they all have long hair and golden eyes, with powers that seemingly overlap that of gods, with the ability to tear rips into [ classified ] and materialise something from nothing. perhaps the power of [ classified ] is what powers both the shop and its keeper. it is not certain if the shopkeeper still retains their power should they ever leave the space.

the last recorded shopkeeper's possible former identity could have been ▮▮▮ who had broken out of [ classified ] at [ classified ] ; ▮▮▮ has held a status of MISSING ever since, and hostiles sent in pursuit were [ classified ]. for now, the ▮▮▮▮▮ project has been put on hold.

There is a shop at the corner of 12 H. Lane. 

Indiscreet, with a sign that’s not too memorable and a strange name displayed upon it ; it’s an open secret among the people that it’s not your typical shop. Sometimes it appears and disappears akin to a ghost ship, while others insist that it’s always been there, just shifting locations due to the ever-changing nature of property prices.

But above all, if there’s something you really need, simply step in and ask the shopkeeper for it – which is exactly what she’s going to do.

She takes a breath, lips pursed, a determined hand reaching out and pushing the door open – the bell jingles merrily as the girl steps in, blue eyes wide as she gazes around the shop, dazzled by the eclectic mix of items held within. Body armour that shone as though it’s been freshly polished. A wide-screen television with such high definition that their pores could even be seen. A giant, golden cross. A katana with a blue handle and its blade seemingly made out of unmelting ice. A figure hugging raiment with layers of white and pink, decorated with golden trinkets. A bouquet of two flowers, one white and one black. A shiny amber ▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮ ▮▮▮.

The last one held her attention the most, but she forces herself to turn her eyes away and head towards the cashier, where a figure with golden eyes glances at her lazily, chin propped on hand and elbow on the cashier counter. 

“Welcome to my shop, lost girl ☆ Shall I say, I’ve been expecting you?” The Shopkeeper’s smile is akin to that of a Cheshire Cat’s, much too wide and eyes in bemused crescents. The crosses in the Shopkeeper’s irises are oddly mesmerising, and the girl can’t bring herself to look away, her mouth dry and gaze fixed in place while her brain seemingly shorts, not a single thought coming to mind. 

It’s a little difficult to gulp down the lump of conflicting emotion that’s gathered in her throat, wariness and exhaustion fighting neck and neck for supremacy. She’s much too tired from her body being on edge, but she has to persist, her heart beating feverishly against her chest as she forces herself to take another step, even if her legs burn from exhaustion and her gasps for breaths are desperate. They’ll catch up soon, her head tells her. She can’t remember who they are, but the association with danger is more than enough for her to keep going. Even if she has to dig against burial soil in order to crawl out of her grave, she’ll keep going.

“Now tell me – what are you willing to pay any price for?”

“Place… Hide… Power.” I don’t want to be on the run any longer, but I don’t want to be taken advantage of, either.

“Ha… Hahaha! Of course! You must be so tired after all that,” the Shopkeeper coos, reaching out to gently caress the girl’s face, wiping bangs matted with sweat away from her eyes. Her words are sweet, soft and gentle, sympathy in her eyes. “Aren’t you? I can give you a place where you’ll no longer have to run from, and power beyond your wildest dreams. And nobody can take them away from you, unless you so choose to give it to them.”

The stories about the shop vary ; none of them have been particularly good. But to the girl, the Shopkeeper has been the nicest person she’s met thus far. She doesn’t even pay attention when the Shopkeeper lets her go in favour of striding over to the shelf where the amber sits, picking it up, and returning. 

“Yes…”

“It’s a deal ☆�� is the last thing she hears, and the Shopkeeper pushes the amber squarely into the girl’s chest. Colour bleeds into black and then white, and all is silent.

Three soldiers follow the trail of blood into a shop at the corner of 12 H. Lane – weapons poised, they tentatively enter the shop, eyes scanning their surroundings for the target.

They do not expect the rain of the heavens to cascade upon them, impaling their bodies and killing them instantaneously. Nor do they expect the abyss to appear around them, swallowing their remains and leaving nothing behind.

“It would be troublesome to make sales if the goods were to be dirtied,” the Shopkeeper says, lips set in a frown as she glances at where they once were, before turning around. Come to think of it, the previous one had long hair, and after accepting the deal did her own grow in length as well – maybe it was a Shopkeeper trait? Along with the golden eyes, that is.

Well, she glances into the reflective surface of the cross, and sees a girl with matted hair as white as the moon, and sky blue eyes. That is but the past, and this is my life now.

[shinydelirium]

MLQC Season 2 Chapter 21 (Kiro) Part 4 [Crazy Cube] & [Love and Wishes] Translation [CN]

***SPOILERS*** THIS POST CONTAINS HEAVY SPOILERS FOR CONTENT NOT YET RELEASED ON EN SERVER!!! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!!***

For previous translations of chapter 21: Part 1/ Part 2/ Part 3

[Crazy Cube]

While I stood on the sidewalk thinking about how to resume communication with Helios, a fast-moving figure in the distance caught my attention.

Helios’ body was covered in dust and his clothes were stained with blood but he was still very distinct.

When he saw me, those blue pupils lit up instantly.

I chose the right one!

Suddenly, the cars in front of him turned sharply, accelerating in his direction.

MC: Look out!!

Helios reacted quickly and escaped without harm.

But more and more cars seemed to be purposely targeting him, recklessly charging at him.

I couldn’t help but think of the sound of heavy objects on the ground I heard from earlier.

Does the culprit not only want to separate us but also want to kill him…?!

I tried to run towards him but as my feet touched the zebra crossing—

Helios: Stay where you are!

He didn’t say anything more, only the wind and the harsh sound of tires screeching came from the other side of the road.

From a distance, those car taillights cut through the night like sharp blades, leaving bloodstains in their wake.

It was like spreading out a huge iron net, trapping Helios in it and trying to crush him fiercely.

Only Helios was faster. He steadily jumped onto the fast-moving car.

He knelt on the front hood with one knee, picked up a buckle and smashed the windshield forcefully. His actions caused the car to freeze for a moment and then he raised a mocking smile.

MC: What happened?

Helios: These are driverless cars.

Helios: Since there’s no people, it’s better to solve.

He leapt sideways off the front of the car. His body moving at lightning speed—

Like a silver phantom, traveling freely within the high-speed machinery.

As he moved, all the cars kept crashing into each other.

Helios was like a flexible silver wire, guiding these unmanned cars together, causing continuous collisions.

Finally, Helios’ feet landed steadily in the middle of the crossroad and the anxiety in my heart was instantly lifted.

Countless car lights fell on him, shining brightly.

MC: Helios!

Although I knew he thought of a plan, my heart couldn’t help but speed up.

Helios: I’m tired of all this running.

He lowered his center of gravity slightly and leaped up just when the cars on all sides were about to ram into him. He threw out a buckle attached to a rope and wrapped it tightly around the top of a traffic light.

Helios swung along and hovered in the air.

Numerous cars slammed into each other in an instant, completely blocking the crossroads.

However, before I could do anything, a sense of dizziness suddenly came over me. The space in front of me was different from the previous rotation and became distorted.

An inexplicable suction pulls me back.

Helios: MC!

I fell back in a daze and only saw Helios running towards me nervously.

MC: I…

I want to open my mouth and say something. My outstretched fingers went through Helios’ hand and my whole body passed through his body—

I saw his eyes widen in horror, slowly being swallowed by the black mist.

When I opened my eyes again, I found myself slumped against a fountain.

I gasped, feeling a little stupefied for a moment.

And sitting off to the side was a man who looked a little weak. A luminous Rubik’s Cube was suspended in his hand.

I carefully examined the man in front of me and when I recalled Helios’ previous conjectures about the different spaces, everything seemed to make sense.

MC: You’re the one who’s been manipulating the space in this hotel, right? Who are you?

Hearing my question, the man suddenly raised his head. His eyes were full of madness and unwillingness. His teeth clenched together, making a horrible sound.

Branded on his calf was a glittering snake tattoo.

Sure enough, he’s from GR!

??: That man is such an eyesore.

The man’s eyes kept turning in his sockets, strange and terrifying. His fingers kept shaking uncontrollably as he turned the cube.

That Rubik’s Cube is the key.

I propped myself up and grabbed the anesthesia gun hidden in my pocket, waiting for the perfect time to attack.

But all of a sudden, a huge pain came from behind me and someone immediately bound my hands.

The intense pain pierced my nerves, making me break out in a cold sweat instantly. My entire body was trembling constantly.

The man gave me an indifferent glance and continued to spin the Rubik’s Cube in his hand.

??: As long as I want to, he will never escape from my grasp.

Hearing such ridiculous words, I scoffed coldly.

MC: You underestimate him too much.

As I spoke, the Rubik’s Cube suspended between his hands began to pulsate slightly.

As if being pulled by something, it flew out from the man’s hands and rolled onto the ground.

He seemed to have never experienced such a thing before as he motionlessly watched the Rubik’s Cube on the ground.

The vibrations are getting bigger and bigger. It looked like something huge was coming out from it, pushing each square continuously outward with a strong thrust.

The blue light from the square is also flashing irregularly and the gap between the squares is becoming even bigger—

??: Wa-wait…!!

As the man wailed, the entire Rubik’s Cube exploded with a dazzling light.

Individual cubes fell one by one and scattered in different corners of the garden.

A piece of the shattered cube fell in front of me and then a rush of wind passed over my head, knocking the person who was originally behind me aside.

I was gently turned around and was trapped in a sweaty embrace.

The obsidian ring shone dimly on the hand covering my arm.

Helios: I’m late.

[Love and Wishes]

Helios: This won’t do.

MC: It’s fine.

I took Helios by the hand and walked into the depths of the garden. His brows furrowed, staring at my right hand.

Helios: This kind of simple treatment…

MC: This simple treatment is enough! I promise you that I’ll go to the hospital after the everything is over!

After the Rubik’s Cube exploded, the helpless man who controlled it was dealt with. Helios just gave an annoying look and didn’t pay much attention to him.

And those people who were taken into different dimensions appeared one after another in the building of this garden. Everyone was at a loss as to what happened.

MC: I suspect that the old man must still be somewhere in this garden.

MC: The person controlling the Rubik’s Cube certainly didn’t expect that we would break free. Therefore, he definitely can’t be too far.

MC: So we can’t waste any time!

Seeing my reasoning, Helios smiled without anger.

Helios: I didn’t know you still had this side of you.

MC: Me neither.

I shook my head at him and searched the entire garden.

Finally, the old man was found in the attic of a small two-story building.

The old man was a little nervous upon seeing us. He cowered and raised his head.

MC: Grandpa, don’t worry. We’re good people!

Not knowing what to say, I subconsciously said something silly. Sure enough, a snicker came from behind me.

But when I turned my head to look, Helios had changed back to a calm face.

Helios: Leave here first and explain later.

I went to a nearby hospital to quickly treated my arm and returned with Helios to one of his secret bases.

The old man quivered in the corner, looking out the window blankly, with hopelessness in his eyes.

MC: Grandpa, can you tell us what happened?

The old man was still looking out the window, his mouth slightly opened.

Old Man: I’m…not an old man.

I blinked and looked at Helios who was sitting to the side.

Helios: What are you?

Old Man: My name is Shen Dong….22 years old this year.

He said this sentence lightly was instantly submerged by the wind howling outside the window.

MC: …..?

MC: 22 years old??

I stared wide-eyed in shock, looking at the thin and frail old man in front of me….thinking for a while that I must have misheard him.

Shen Dong lifted his heavy eyelids laboriously. They were filled with hatred except he didn’t have any strength, sitting there like a dead tree.

Shen Dong: I’m an Evolver…

Shen Dong: I can remove a person’s Evol and replace it with an already existing Evol in my body. Then, it becomes my own.

MC: ….So it’s equivalent to you just taking away other people’s abilities? Then the ability that you lost disappears?

Shen Dong: Yes.

I wondered suspiciously. So GR did this just to make people who have Evol lose it?

Shen Dong ignored my bewildered gaze and continued talking to no one in particular.

Maybe he has been silent for so long, it didn’t matter who it was at this moment. It didn’t matter how it will impact or what assistance it will provide in the future, he just wanted to get it all off his chest.

Shen Dong: As to why I became like this…

He looked at his raised hand sarcastically, with no light remaining in his eyes.

Helios: It’s related to using Evol.

Helios said this nonchalantly without any emotion on his face.

Shen Dong nodded.

Shen Dong: I don’t know how but when I use Evol, my body seems to get older.

Shen Dong: And then age faster and faster….faster and faster….

Shen Dong: In the end, I became what I am now.

Helios: If that’s the case, why do use your abilities?

Shen Dong: Do you think I want to!!

He yelled. His voice filled the room instantly.

Shen Dong: …They have….my lover.

Shen Dong: If I don’t listen to them…they will kill her.

Helios: They captured her?

Shen Dong: No…they only give me pictures of her every day.

Shen Dong: She doesn’t even know about all of this…

Shen Dong: She’s been waiting for me to come back.

He looked out the window and didn’t even have much strength to sit up straighter.

In that dark room, he sits there every day, taking other’s Evol over and over again.

Watching himself grow old little by little.

I clenched my hands subconsciously and looked at Shen Dong unbearably.

MC: Sorry, I still have to ask something about GR but if you don’t want to say it, then you don’t have to answer me.

MC: Do you know about the Wish Club…?

Shen Dong narrowed his eyes and nodded slowly.

Shen Dong: Those people are different from the ones at the Wish Hotel. They were forced to have their Evol extracted from them.

Shen Dong: As a price of debt.

As soon as he said this, Helios brought a key over.

His whole body was covered with a heavy layer of frost and his eyes were cold.

Helios: This is the room key. You look after him here.

Helios: I’m going to deal with some things. I’ll be back soon.

I looked at Helios deeply, took the key, and watched him walk out the door with heavy steps.

Shen Dong seemed very tired and lifted his eyelids.

Thinking of his experience during this time, I asked softly.

MC: You rest here first, okay?

His eyes trembled suddenly, as if thinking of something. He raised his head and looked at me.

Shen Dong: Looking at your check-in information, you’re an Evolver that deals with memory?

MC: Yeah, what about it?

Shen Dong: Nothing…

He avoids my eyes unnaturally. Considering the state of his body, I have the upper hand.

MC: Are you okay? If you’re uncomfortable, you can tell me.

Shen Dong shifted his eyes back. They were full of pain and suffering.

Shen Dong: …Do you think I can go back to how I was?

His question left me a little speechless for a while. I pressed my lips together and looked at his wrinkled face.

MC: I don’t know.

MC: But I think…even if there is only a glimmer of hope, you can’t give up.

MC: If you press on, maybe one day in the future, you can get back your original body!

Shen Dong: Maybe?

He smiled softly. His gaze seemed to pass through the eaves, over the endless streets and crowds, and land in a very distant place.

Shen Dong: Can I…hold your hand?

Shen Dong: It’s been too long….since I’ve touched anyone in a normal way.

I was stunned for a moment. Seeing him raise his hand slowly, I stretched out both hands without thinking.

I didn’t say anything.

I knew that for him, all words were powerless.

I only hope I can give him more strength.

Shen Dong: …I’m so sorry.

MC: Huh?

In the next second, the surroundings began to spin. My vision became blurred and I felt the power slowly fading from my body.

Shen Dong: I’m really sorry….

His apologies kept ringing in my ears. My vision was gradually swallowed by darkness and only his last cry was heard before I lost consciousness.

Shen Dong: I don’t have much time…

I don’t know how long time has passed. There seemed to be someone faintly shaking my body.

??: MC!

An urgent voice came to my ears, calling my name again and again.

I reluctantly opened my heavy eyelids. Things were in and out of focus but I seemed to see a blue sea.

I struggled to raise my hand and gently brushed away the messy silver hair that covered my eyes.

MC: Sorry….I seemed to have messed things up.

Helios: It’s not your fault.

Helios: Are you all right?

I nodded, trying to sit up, but realized that I was really weak and there felt like a force in my body that had disappeared.

I looked around and saw no sign of Shen Dong.

Helios: He’s not here anymore.

MC: That’s right…just now he asked me to hold his hand and then I lost consciousness.

I looked at Helios in a daze and hesitated to say what I was thinking.

MC: …My Evol seems to have disappeared.

When Helios heard this, his face fell.

Helios: Try to use your abilities on me.

I slowly raised my hand and snapped my fingers at him.

There was no reaction. No matter how hard I tried, it was useless.

Helios immediately took out the microcomputer, tapping a code quickly with his fingers.

After a while, the window on the screen suddenly zoomed in. An old man got out of a car and walked towards a pathway.

MC: Where is he going?

On the screen, Shen Dong stumbled along. His strength no longer enough to make him go any further.

Exhausted from walking, he leaned on the tree trunk beside him panting. His whole body shook, then he set off again.

Helios’ eyes narrowed slightly.

Helios: He’s going back.

When we hurried over, Shen Dong and a strange girl were sitting on a bench among the flowers.

Countless flowers and branches gently made noises in the wind. The world is beautiful and quiet.

Shen Dong’s joyful smile and the girl with tears on her face formed a sharp contrast.

Girl: Seeing you now, I always feel like I’ve been waiting for you for a long, long time.

Girl: It seems like I’ve also become an old woman myself.

The girl didn’t seem to want to cry anymore. She only raised a smile for half a second and then immediately wiped away the tears she couldn’t help but shed.

Girl: Sorry...what should I do?

The girl looked like she finally collapsed. She gripped her skirt tightly to prevent herself from crying.

Shen Dong’s fingers gently touched her face as if he was touching the most unique treasure in the world.

Shen Dong: I came to tell you that I did not forget the agreement with you.

Shen Dong: I’ve come back.

He gently wiped the girl’s tears and kissed her nose.

Shen Dong: However, those other agreements may be impossible.

Shen Dong: Although we agreed we won’t miss every winter in our future lives, but it seems it will be somewhat difficult.

Girl: What do you mean….

Shen Dong: Just treat it as…an early end to an ordinary winter.

After speaking, the old man raised his hand and snapped his fingers in front of her.

[End of Part 4]

[softcallofdutyimagines]

Woods x reader

Short fic: Woods has had just about enough of the neon night life of Miami and is about to spend another night bored and alone... until he meets you

---

Loosen up, they said. Go have some fun, they said. We can't do anything for a week at least anyway, they said.

Bull shit, he says.

The noise of the neon club pulsates around him, loud as a warzone and yet... Different. The sound in this place has weight. It's heavy and his head feels like it's going to cave in. The lights strain his eyes and make him dizzy, and the smoke... a smell he's normally so accustomed to, is stifling, choking him.

All he has to hold onto, to keep his nerves from erupting inside him, is a tiny crystal shot glass gaurded by his trembling hands. It fits perfectly in his palm, and if he squeezes just a bit harder, it's likely to shatter.

Woods takes a look around from his seat at the bar. A dense haze surrounds him, and in and out of the glowing miasma weaves groups and couples of people, most of which are about half his age.

What is he doing here?

Frank shakes it off and finishes his shot. He slaps money on the counter and heads directly for the door with long, aggressive strides.

He never should've fucking come out here... He was just fine in his damn hotel room. In fact, next time he sees Mason or Adler, he's gonna-

Suddenly, his boot catches and he nearly crashes into the ground. Frank stumbles a few steps before whipping around, a venomous insult at the ready. But before he can utter a sound, he's caught off guard by...

You.

You're hunched over, seated on the stairs and practically curled into a ball. A shame, given that it obscures your lovely outfit. Your face is mostly hidden behind your hands, but it's not enough to keep from revealing your tear stained cheek.

A touch of fear seeps into your eyes as you look up at the angry, imposing man. His eyes are sharp, and his teeth glint in the all the lights as he sneers back at you.

But then... He softens. He relaxes, releasing the tension captured in his shoulders and jaw. His eyes open fully and his mouth shifts from a snarl to something akin to regret.

"Hey uh, sorry... Didn't see ya"

You sniff and give him a forgiving nod, wiping at your eyes, but not before a small sob breaks over you again.

While he does like to pride himself on his tough, rugged nature... Woods is not a man completely devoid of empathy.

"Woah, hey... you alright?", he puts his arms out as though to steady a wild animal, and he approaches slowly.

You shake your head, "No, but it's nothing serious... Ugh, it's stupid if anything"

Woods takes a seat beside you, "Well I'll have you know, you're talking to the fucking King of stupid shit", he laughs, then stops abruptly when he realizes you're not joining in. "Ahem, but uh really. What's up?"

"My... boyfriend, ex boyfriend, dumped me right here and left with someone else. He's been waiting to do this, I know it, he was just too much of a coward to do it without his little support group to point and laugh at me", your nose crinkles in disgust and what could very well be angry tears trickle down.

"Damn... Asshole"

"Yeah... I was thinking of just heading home but, I don't want to leave on a bad note either, you know? Especially after all that... I want to do something for myself"

Woods thinks back to how he nearly tore you apart on his way out of here. "Yeah, I get that. For the record... I think you should", he gives you what he hopes is an encouraging little smile and pats your shoulder, before making to get up and leave.

There, his good deed for the day.

"Well wait... What's your story, huh? No offense, but... This doesn't really look like your scene", you look him up and down, from his tattooed, muscly arms, to his scruffy beard and rough face.

"Oh uh... I'm just passin through". He can hardly tell you that he's here on an illegal mission with his spec ops friends just a few streets down, so he hopes against hope that you'll accept his terribly crafted lie.

By some miracle, you seem to be willing to roll with it. You nod. "Right... Well, thanks for the talk", you dust off your knees and hop up with tiny refections of light bouncing off your sequined outfit, "but I'm going back in for at least one more dance"

You smile confidently, the first of it's kind all night long, but before you trot in through the door, "Say, do you want a dance? You seemed pretty pissed on your way out of here... Maybe you need a good end to the night too", wreathed in ethereal light, like a neon angel, you reach down to offer Frank a hand. "Could be fun", you wink.

A halo of blue and pink illuminates your hair and the gorgeous features of your face as you smile warmly back at him. And before he can even think, Frank finds himself feeling compelled to say yes.

Your clothes and jewelry clink and sparkle in the soft glow of the club, but Frank can't take his eyes off your hand holding his.

You lead him straight to the dance floor, with it's little beams of light shooting up from it. Classic synth hits have been blaring all night long, but you've arrived just in time for the next song. Blue Monday winds up, pulsating through the air, the beat penetrating down to your soul.

"Oh, I love this one!", you raise your hands above your head and jump a bit, just having fun, before launching into something of a choreographed dance.

A good one, at that.

Suddenly Frank feels out of place as he stands there stiffly. He picks and chooses some simple moves from the elaborate combos you're doing and tries his best to copy you. However, he finds himself more jerking to and fro then anything even remotely close to your fluid dancing.

You laugh, feeling a bit bad as you watch him struggle, "Here, like this..."

How does it feel...

You guide his tough, callused hands to your hips and let him feel the rolling motion as you clasp you your arms around his neck.

To treat me like you do...

Your faces are close. Closer then he's been to anyone in a long time... You tilt your chin up and whisper, just loud enough for him to hear, "Slow..."

When you laid your arms around me...

And just like that, everything clicks. The music, the lights, the atmosphere... It's like a whole other dimension and every last one of his senses feel alive.

And told me, who you are...

Frank rolls his hips in sync with yours and he forgets all his troubles. The mission. The cold war. Mason, Adler.... The only one left in this new, strange universe is you.

You, surrounded by dazzling lights as you glint and shine in the neon beams.

You, as you whisper praise to him for successfully performing this simple, young man's dance move.

You, as you turn around and ride his hips, swaying together as the beat drives you both.

His arms, scarred and bulging, caress up your hips and waist while you reach up too, stroking his jaw and planting a tender kiss to his cheek, unlike anything he's ever received before.

And as he turns you around to meet you mouth to mouth, pulling you in tightly, hands clamped on your hips as though you'll disappear. The heat of your body sending warm, excited shivers up his spine. The taste of peppermint and a touch of whiskey as he kisses your soft lips. The club and the noise dissolving away...

He thinks, maybe life off the field isn't so bad...

[herstarburststories]

Make Me Yours

Day 4 of Kinktober: Body Ownership

Day 4 of Suptober: Branded

Pairing: Michael!Dean x reader

Summary: Michael wants you to be his.

A/N: I swear I'm not that pornography on daily basis I'm even more, but branding is very kinky here. I also strongly support you listening to False God while reading. @itsangelpie @deanmonandnegansbitch, this is the Michael one I was talking about xD

Warnings: smut, dirty talk, p in v, bit of power play, marking, brief fingering, grace

CATCH UP KINKTOBER & SUPTOBER

Michael enjoyed leaving a trace behind like any other powerful celestial.

Once, the loyal son convinced himself that it was because he wanted, not only humans, but his siblings, father, and any other being to know that he could be a savior like he was built to be. No matter what, he was a righteous warrior who would do anything his beloved father wanted him to. He was a perfect soldier, earning nothing but pride and all the head pats possible. 

At least, that was before. It was back when Michael thought that God truly loved him and that he had a bigger purpose than gaining adoration from his fragile humans to overthrow Lucifer — his little brother, the archangel that was thrown away like a rough draft. Now, Michael couldn't care less about living up to his goody two shoes reputation. He didn't care about his brothers and sisters either, much less the humans. The archangel wouldn't say that he hated them like Lucifer foolishly did. His brother was wrapped in a bubble of jealousy that was almost embarrassing. No, breakable things didn't deserve attention. Michael just didn't care about them or their little world. All of his heaven-made goals had melted into one thing to look forward to — getting Chuck back to kill him.

So what if he had to burn a couple of dimensions and their human inhabitants? That was just an unfortunate side effect of Chuck’s little creations being the only thing that could catch his attention.

Burn a book? Get the author’s fury.

Michael was more than satisfied with the idea of leaving a trace of calamitous fire behind. It was such a beautiful legacy that would put fear into the atmosphere of the universe, and Michael would be God. He would be better one — the evolved version of what he’d always been as an archangel.

The torn holes of vulnerability inside of him had only grown wider, gaping into an open wound when his father left him as though Michael were as useless as a broken toy. That wicked, selfish side said it was because he wanted everyone to know how terrible he can be — fear him so no one will ever be close enough to hurt him again. 

Terror had worked better than adoration for millenniums. 

The archangel is good with that. Unlike his father, Michael's ego is as big as the amount of blood in his hands, not the people on their knees or the number of démodé cathedrals to worship him in the name of a bible that he never wrote. He doesn't need humanity’s adoration.

You bit your bottom lip to contain a smile, glancing at him. Michael could read from your mind and erratic heartbeat that you were both excited and curious about what was going to happen. Yet, he didn't need to. He knew your body — that perfect body — very well by himself with no help of his powers.

Correction: he needs one human's worship.

As mentioned beforehand, powerful beings like to leave a trace behind for multiple reasons: marking their territory like a big dog, making a point to gain respect through terror, or boosting their self-confidence. 

“Get on all fours, little one.”

For the first time, Michael wanted to make someone a living reminder of him. He wanted to mark a human for being his: you.

You were obedient, quickly moving to the position that he had asked. You can hear Michael humming in satisfaction, moving in such a quiet way that you almost feel surprised when he placed his hand on your back.

Michael watched your body with care, his fingers dancing with tenderness on your skin. He used to believe that a vessel was everything a human body was worth. Sex was a foreign concept, nothing but an earthling’s attempt not to feel alone — if they weren't fighting, they were fucking. It got boring after the first few centuries.

And then, you happened.

“So marvelous, little one.” His words were laced with gruffness, startling a whimper out of you. “All of this…” He held your waist and pulled you back swiftly. You gasped, feeling his hardness against your ass. Michael didn't slide in, but he kept rubbing himself on you. “All of you…” One of his hands slid down your body, making way for his fingers to catch your sweet spot. You were so warm and wet: there was nothing on Heaven, Earth, or Hell as splendid your needy cunt. “Who do you belong to, Y/N?”

“To you, Michael. I belong to you. Please.” You should be ashamed of begging so early, but how could you judge yourself? Michael's hard cock behind you, making your ass dirty with precum along with two fingers inside your pussy and his possessive words stewing inside your head — you were still just a human, after all. “I need you.”

It was blissful, to have someone he was enchanted by to worship him as the Sabaeans did to the stars.

“Patience is a virtue, little one.” The archangel wore a proud smirk, adding another finger into your wet mess. You groaned in response, pressing your hips to his pelvis in an obvious attempt for more.

Michael's cock welcomed the growing arousal, dropping more precum than before and twitching. It was difficult not to give himself any relief, but he had to teach you a lesson before taking you again. Religion came with strict rules.

He pulled away from you, grabbing your neck from behind only to push your head on the bed. Your cheek to the mattress made it was painfully easy for reality to sink in: the archangel’s fingers on your bare skin, his fingers that were inside you. There was something uniquely blasphemous about sinning like this.

“You take what I give you, and you're grateful for that. Understood?” He howled, tightening his hold on you. “I picked you.”

“Yes, master.” The two words fought to leave your mouth before ultimately escaping. You know you should be afraid, but your soul refuses to welcome any feeling other than excitement. Michael didn't even use his grace yet. He wouldn't hurt you: at least, not enough for you to suffer. Everything he did to your body was a blessing.

“Good.” He exhaled, letting go of your neck. The archangel had been way too patient, and you waited long enough. You dared turn your head to look at him, and Michael was divine. His gorgeous body was crouched with his knees on the bed while he patiently observed you. His length was large and rock hard against your leg. You just wanted to give him release. “Like what you see?”

You gulped, nodding furiously. The archangel chortled before he slid his cock inside you without any other warning.

You let out a shamefully loud scream. What else could you do? His cock was fucking its way inside you, cleansing your body with the prayer of being everything you could ever need or want: to feel holy, to feel full. Michael grunted, grabbing your hips to pull you closer, and you moved back and forth in sync with him. Soon, the bed was the one clamoring with noise. Both of you became hollow when you were like this — hungry, craving for something to fill up your empty pieces.

Michael was the right hand of God, the protector — whatever treasures he chose to deify would be eternal because he could make it happen. And for Heaven, he adored you.

His cock found your G-spot, and his grace flooded into your veins as if it was meant to be there. Your walls were tighter and tighter around him, and you couldn't wait to feel his load inside you, marking you from inside. There was a wash of glowing pleasure in your body. You had never felt so light before. This felt like the precipice of your glorified religion, and God, you could make a church out of this.

“That's it, my love.” Michael moaned, his eyes bright blue as he fucked himself into you. You bit the pillow to keep another scream down. He squeezed your waist. There was something burning in your bones with a painful pleasure as his hand glowed. He was branding you as his, writing his symbol all over your soul, bones, and heart. And you were enjoying every single ache of it. “Cum for me. I want to hear you coming for me.”

He may be a false god, but he certainly brought you to heaven.

Your lips parted into a moan as your juice came all over his pulsating cock, and Michael came inside you in a rush. Everything hurt as if he had rearranged your bones, but it was as comfortable as if they were all snapped back together in the right places. You fell on the bed out of exhaustion, wondering if you'd live to see another day. All of you seemed to be on fire, much more than the other times. Your pussy was pulsing, and you could smell him all over your skin. He had made your body his. You were his.

Michael pulled away from you, a lopsided grin on his lips as he glanced at his possession. The archangel laid down, pulling your tired body to him. You clung to Michael while trying to breathe properly. What had just happened?

“Wh — What was that?”

“I marked you, little one.” Michael gave you a devilish grin while his eyes shone a dazzling blue. He was the apocalypse of your soul, and you couldn't wait for the sweet destruction. “Now, everyone will know that you are mine. Your pussy, all your body, and your soul. You belong to me, Y/N.” He had everything now. The world and you. He was ethereal. “I'm your god now.”

You made an altar out of him, and you'd always be a loyalist to this love, no matter the sacrifices you'd have to do for this. 

Leave a comment and reblog. Feedback is magic! Check my day 1,2&3 of kinktober & day 3 of suptober, and my masterlist ♡

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[jokertrap-ran]

(光与夜之恋 Light and Night) 遥夕灯会: Chinese Valentine’s Day 2021 Event! Nightlong Lantern Festival Translation (Qixi: SARIEL)

“The lantern lights and the fireworks are so beautiful. It's a night worth remembering for now. Also, happy Chinese Valentine's.”

*Light and Night Master-list | Sariel’s Personal Master-list *Spoiler free: Translations will remain under cut *Join my Light & Night Discord (＾▽＾)~ ♪ *Event story tag will be #For Light and Memories *T/N: It’s a reference to Tencent QQ’s Red Envelope Activity HAHAHA *That’s all for this year’s L&N Qixi!

The lantern lights lit up the moment night descended, like countless dazzling stars, converging into one galaxy, brightening the sky of the quiet night.

MC: There’s someone blowing sugar figures there! Come on! How about we go there and take a look?

Sariel: You're only making such a big fuss about it because you rarely see it.

MC: I’ve not seen one in years! The last time I saw it was at a temple fair when I was really little.

MC: Plus, it’s boring if you come to a lantern festival without going around the stores at least once. Unless… you’re here just to land yourself in the penguin daily steps taken rankings?*

Sariel: ...It's not like I want to come here.

Even though he says that, Sariel still allowed me to pull him into the crowd.

The sugary syrup rippled amber in the copper spoon that held it.

Moments later, the owner blew a figure of a running rabbit. A little girl takes the stick from him, happily waving the rabbit and running off into the distance.

MC: Grandpa, can I get a sugar figure like this?

Having had a flash of inspiration, I brought my phone up before him to show him an example of what I wanted made. The old man nodded in understanding.

And thus, that was how I ended up wielding a pufferfish as I walked down the street.

MC: Want a bite?

I brought the stick up before Sariel. He took one glance at said pufferfish, seemingly unfazed.

Crack!

Just when I thought that he wasn’t going to do anything at all, the puffer fish’s tail suddenly disappeared.

Sariel: ...Tastes terrible.

MC: It’s all just for the novelty. And I even especially left the first bite for you.

I happily chomped off one of the puffer fish's spikes, the sweet taste of maltose spreading through my mouth.

It was just like him to add a jibe even after having taken a bite out of the sugar figure.

MC: Look at how huffy it looks. Don’t you think it looks like how you get angry every so often?

Sariel: Your childishness never fails to exceed my imagination.

Following that, another crack sounded as the puffer fish’s head disappeared. The fox, who was the culprit, looked away to the side, pretending that nothing happened.

MC: The one who eats the most of it is clearly the more childish one here.

Dragging Sariel along, we went from store to store. Before we knew it, the crescent moon had already climbed high into the sky, and we’d reached the end of the long street.

❖☆———————————★❖

The bustling crowd slowly died out as we stopped at the riverbank. The night breeze gently blew past, lifting Sariel's short silvery-white hair. He was the very epitome of serenity, standing there in silence with not a word.

Following his gaze, I saw the stars of the starry sky up above reflected on the rippling surface of water, brighter and much more dazzling. The noise from the lantern festival on the other side of the bank drifted over, making people have the illusion of being in an entirely different dimension.

In the dimly lit night, he looked ethereal and far out of reach. I could stop myself from reaching out to him.

MC: ...Sariel.

Sariel: Stop dragging me every this way and that in public where there are countless people around.

The usual sense of familiarity hits me again at the sound of his voice. I quietly breathed a sigh of relief.

MC: I'm really, really, glad that you agreed to come out with me today.

Sariel: Who said that I—

I decided to interrupt him before he went on into his usual tirade like a broken recorder. A perfume sachet appeared before his eyes, seemingly making the furrow in his brow grow even deeper.

MC: A small thank you gift. Thank you for accompanying me today.

The moon-white perfume sachet falls into Sariel’s palm.

Sariel: Is there a need for you to be thanking me? If not me, then who else do you dare to befall curses upon?

Sariel: The needlework is careless and sloppy, and the chosen fabric is unflattering. However… the fragrance it is imbued with is somewhat acceptable.

MC: Brilliant!

Sariel: Your ability to talk to yourself is getting better by the day.

Sariel: I’ll give you credit for this seeing that it’s hard to find such good-quality agarwood.

MC: It’s worth the price if it manages to garner your approval of it.

MC: I just knew it would suit you the moment I got a whiff of it!

The light and refreshing scent wafted and spread along with the night breeze.

Sariel: Then, you’ll have to see it through. Help me hang it.

MC: You can just be honest and say that you don’t want to keep it, and that you want to always keep it within your sights.

Sariel: …Stop reading through the lines so baselessly.

Saying so, he opened his palm before me. I took the perfume sachet from him once more, helping him secure it around his wrist. Then, I placed my hand onto his palm, gripping firmly onto it.

❖☆———————————★❖

We crossed the stone bridge yet again, heading towards the sea of lantern lights. Suddenly, several dragon-shaped fireworks were set off in the distance, swiftly speeding up into the skies. I excitedly pointed them out to Sariel.

The vibrantly coloured lights illuminated his handsome side-profile, and it looked like this was the first time he’d ever seen fireworks, judging from the serious look on his face.

I want to keep following him, to pull on his hand; to admire the lantern lights together with him, the snow, the flowers, to see all the fireworks in the world. I want to stay with him forever and always.

MC: Happy Chinese Valentine's Day, Sariel.

MC: I hope I can celebrate every Chinese Valentine’s to come with you from now on.

I leaned against his shoulder. Suddenly, a large hand reaches over to pinch my cheeks.

I looked up at him. His countenance and eyes appeared especially soft beneath the warm sea of lantern lights.

Sariel: Happy Chinese Valentine's Day.

❖☆———————————★❖☆———————————★❖

“Look in the mirror. Someone's grin is going to reach the back of her head.”

❖☆————— ⊹ For Light & Memories⊹ —————★❖       [Who will you gift your perfume sachet to?]

☆ Evan ☆ Osborn ★ Sariel ☆ Charlie ☆ Jesse

[jae-canikeepyou]

| muse | j.jh

pair: jaehyun x fem!reader

genre: art student!jaehyun + art student!yn

a/n: thought this on a whim whilst reminiscing my art portfolio, so we’ll see how you’ll like this with yuno in it. not the best i’ve written but hope you enjoy reading 💞😉 ~j

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

with jaehyun, there were three things that happened uncontrollably. one was he caused your heart to skip; two, your chest to feel all giddy; and three, your stomach to capsize. why you may ask? it was his very presence in the art academy which had heads turning and lips to whisper words of awe. he was labelled and called a prodigy.

be it in any medium of art, he was blessed to have such a talent that his parents thought it’d be a waste if not enhanced or put attention to. even your professors favored him and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t jealous. despite his princely looks, he could sometimes be a total snob. he’d be in a good mood the first hour and then changed completely in the next. oh the duality, you couldn’t understand him at all.

though question marks continued to fill your head, let’s just say you had a tad advantage compared to girls who were overly thirsting for him; he was your classmate, a major in fine arts. sometimes you unconsciously found yourself sniffing his perfume each time he helped you with the shading of portrait drawings you worked upon. he was that close. as much as you loved seeing him almost every day, you hated at the fact you still didn’t know the ways to calm your loving facial expression towards him.

it was a funny sight —at least to your friends— that they could see how elongated your nose grew every time you deny your feelings for him. yet as time passed the possibility of your admiration might turn into romantic feelings instead. there wasn’t a need to prove to you since your friends have pointed it out already.

but you yourself wasn’t too sure about it.

“please,” hyejin popped with a huge round of an eyeroll at your oblivion. legs crossed as she chewed her bubblegum. “y/n, admit that you like him. it isn’t that hard to say out loud.”

other students, including your studio tutor held in their giggles in the midst of the silence within the room. true enough hyejin was the mood maker.

her words made you stop painting the colours that were meant to accentuate the highlights of the subject. “i’m not like you who’s very expressive in words.” you replied, taking few peeks at your surroundings in case anyone eavesdrop.

hyejin wasn’t supposed to be in the studio today. she was a literature student where writing poetry was her forte. but because your tutor appreciated her effort to promote the visual arts department in the school paper, her going to the studio with you became a normal thing.

“it doesn’t have to be in words. like, i don’t know? paint some canvas and pour out your feelings through colours? yellow’s joy or purple’s dazzling or red is love-” she stopped as you gave her an annoyed gaze. “i’m sure he’ll get it. he’s not called a prodigy for nothing.”

“painting is not done on a whim, hyejin.” you emphasised, not noticing the stress put upon your work. “it takes time and thinking and creativ-”

“yeah yeah,” she made her bubble burst, which by the way irritated you since it gave off the impression that she wasn’t listening to you at all. “abstract seems so random though. no thinking there.”

you pointed the brush at her, yet careful enough that it doesn’t touch her nose. if another word comes from her mouth, you wouldn’t hesitate staining it. “sis, shapes are used instead of virtual reality, so abstract still needs thinking. you just express it differently.” hearing this, hyejin paused for a while before deciding which reaction to give, and with that you were satisfied into silencing her for a while. “now you know how i feel when i don’t understand shakespeare’s ‘love looks not with eyes, but with the mind, and therefore is winged cupid painted blind’.”

she let out a scoff, “pfft, you’re the cupid in that quote. you can’t even see that you like mr. prodigy so much.”

jaehyun gently opened the door and handed a paper slip to the tutor, which apparently was a doctor’s certificate. due to his arrival, hyejin elbowed you so hard that its force caused you to jolt in your seat then knocking two of the glassed jars placed on the narrow deck of your easel.

the tutor looked at your direction, and lowered his specs at the noise. flustered than you ever were in your entire life, you took the dust pan. you tried your best to not match eyes with jaehyun who was now smiling from second hand embarrassment. at farthest decibel your ears could handle, you could hear hyejin sneering with huffed laughs.

“i’m gonna kill you.” you mouthed from a table away and gave her a warning look. you gestured the phrase, followed by a scowl to refer her teasing tongue.

“i’ll help, y/n.” jaehyun offered, but you assured him it was fine. “what’re you working on?” he asked as you both walked back to the tables, he took out his tools and unfinished work.

this time was the season of cramming hours into a tight schedule, there were many initial stages/assignments due and portfolios to be completed. you guessed it was natural for you both to update each other regarding progress. “just giving more highlights and tweaks, then i’ll start on the portraits.”

he only pressed a smile, a breathy chuckle as a response while he focused on his art. “do you still need my help on shading?”

“i think i got the hang of it. thanks.” you damped the brush with water.

“alright, if you need me, i’m just here.”

your eyes shot down to your pockets, quickly answering the phone to quiet down the “supposedly” soundless vibration. and you wished you didn’t fished out the device if you knew that the message was from hyejin.

[18:45] hyejin: damn it y/n, confess already! 🤪

[18:45] you: if you could shut up maybe i will?? i could hear your voice haunting me 🙃

[18:46] hyejin: if there’s no progress today, i’m so gonna take action & tell him myself 😌

[18:47] you: ugh anything but that pls 😣

the thing with being associated with the arts was that time immediately had gone passed when you’re so concentrated. everything else faded away and in that momentum, it was just the art and you. jaehyun felt this once he picked up his brush or pencil. voices in his head whispered and guided him what to do with the creativity still yet to be shown in the world.

among all the students he bonded with, there was one whom perked his interest..

you.

as mentioned, his current surroundings blurred whilst he was sucked into another dimension of concentration. but you went there with him and appeared clear. seemed a scene out of an alternate reality in his perspective, or dramatic to some people. he was intrigued.

since knowing you, he expected to sought this mutual interest deeper. if he was the beautiful, detailed canvas everyone saw in an exhibition, you were the opposite; abstract, unpredictable and rough, someone who was overlooked because others couldn’t understand the depths and entirety of you.

finishing the last layer of the painting, you stretched to sooth the numbness. the professor reminded about the last few minutes before wrapping up the class and, he handed the room keys to you. for this tutorial, students have the choice to stay behind or leave. hyejin left with the others, leaving you alone with jaehyun. whether she did that on purpose, she’d do anything to let you be alone with him.

“oh? you’re done with yours?” jaehyun shifted sideways to take a better view of your work. he looked satisfied with the way his dimples hollowed. “hm. my advise is effective.”

“yeah, you’re a life saver.” you sighed as you looked at how completed the artwork was, then trailing your eyes to him again.

“i’m proud of you.” he winked, only to blush afterwards when his stomach growled. “i wish you didn’t hear that.”

coincidently, you tossed your wallet in the air. “good timing, i’m just about to head out to the cafeteria. want anything? my treat because you helped me.” you extolled with your mood in completely positivity. jaehyun became your inspiration and for now you weren’t able to bring yourself to tell him that.

hopefully soon though— when you have the courage.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

the sleepiness in your eyes only needed ten percent more to push your lids down, the queue was unexpectedly long at this hour. it was only until minutes later had you known that another department organised a party nearby. the wait for the order would be troublesome; that’d be in the fact there were girls right behind, their gaze burning into your skin as if you were an enemy of theirs. and somehow you knew,

they might be jaehyun’s admirers.

they whispered to each other, words audible enough for your hearing and you pretended to be listening to music.

and how you wished you should’ve.

“do you know why jaehyun took fine arts?” one asked.

an intrigued response caught you walking on a tight rope. this can’t be good. “sounds like you know the reason.”

“it’s been spreading around recently..” there was a pause that had you wondering even if you knew you shouldn’t believe in any of rumours from them. “i heard the studio has this session to draw the human body and the figures. like y’know.. no clothes?”

sigh, there wasn’t even any classes for those this semester, you thought.

few giggles were heard before they spoke again. “you’re saying he’s perverted?”

“maybe? i wouldn’t be surprised if it were true.”

“isn’t that kinda hot? his eyes starting into-”

you nearly dropped jaehyun’s food and trip over an extension wire hearing that. breathing slowly and steadily, you convinced yourself that what you heard was false. he wasn’t the type of guy they assumed he was.

as much as you wanted to prove them wrong, it wasn’t your place to speak out when the friendship you have with him was not to the level of best friends. so you rushed back to the studio, not noticing your blown-away hair and burning face. what was amusing after hearing the tea, you didn’t know why you reacted in that manner. did you leave because you couldn’t stand eavesdropping any longer? or did you run due to the fact the fantasies they had were about to enter your mind?

the door was opened with a force that jaehyun looked up from his work, smiling at your quick purchase. “whoa careful there. you didn’t have to run.” he chuckled and went to your table. he took his favourite spicy cake and placed it on top heavily. the force he exerted with his hands was the total opposite to when he dealt with art. somewhere in you, you’d say it was a 0.1 percent a turn-off.

“hey, it’s food. handle with care, it’s a blessing.” you said, munching on your share of the dishes.

jaehyun clasped his palms together, bowed his head and closed his eyes. he faced you and you sat there with a confused look. “thank you y/n, you’re an angel for treating me.”

soon after, you received a message from your professor about taking out some of the tools needed for tomorrow. holding the sandwich wrap between your lips, you took a closer look at the right keys before unlocking the storage room, opening the door afterwards.

it was at least the size of two toilet cubicles, not even close to a room’s walk-in closet. the thin cabinets against both sides of the wall were two feet, and the remaining space in the middle could fit a person’s leg, stretched out. the new set of canvases were placed on the top shelf. for someone like you, it wasn’t possible to reach them on tiptoes. you grabbed a chair and stacked two tins of paint for your feet to stand upon.

if you still couldn’t reach them.. eh, bummer. disturbing jaehyun who was enjoying his meal would be rude. you weren’t that type of person to suddenly feel as if you were already close to someone. the icky and dusty feeling on your fingertips nearly had you gagging.

“jaehyun?” you called out, apparently you’ve given up in trying another attempt. “i need a hand.”

there was a long pause as to why he didn’t respond immediately. maybe you should’ve have disturbed him? but you soon rolled your eyes when a mannequin’s hand was thrown to you. his snickers was supposedly an adorable thing to hear, this kind of wasn’t, because you desperately needed help now. “jeong jaehyun!”

he hummed right after you mentioned his name the second time. “i’m just messing around. but does that mean you’ll treat me again? i helped you.” his voice sounding with excitement.

you nodded, your anger long forgotten but he could tell there was conflict in your head. “i’ll consider it, so help me before i smack you with this plastic hand.” your tone slightly straining since you didn’t feel him entering the room.

“yeah. coming.” he said, giggling at your impatience. as you tried to reach out for the canvases again, the light behind you slowly dimmed.

that was weird. “hey, it’s getting dark in here.” you said.

before he could say anything, the door slowly closed and that made you raise a brow. he noticed this too and looked into your eyes when the light within the room soon disappeared. “ah sorry, i must’ve kicked the door stopper.” even in the dark, you could tell he was flustered from his actions. “i’ll open it.”

however his groans and vigorous sounds from the door knob stated otherwise. “what?” you heard him raise his voice.

“what’s wrong?” you hopped off the tins and grabbed the knob, twisting it clockwise then anti-clockwise. “it’s jammed.”

you both panicked because the night wasn’t getting any younger. there were things to finish and deadlines were drawing closer. before, you thought of procrastinating even when necessary. but procrastinating like this wasn’t part of the plan.

how was it possible for the knob to be jammed? the door wasn’t closed in an impact that would cause its components to be broken. sure jaehyun was reckless and couldn’t control his strength but that really wasn’t the issue here.

the actual issue was that you were going be stuck with him for who knows until when. stuck in a sense there were just enough space for two people. jaehyun fumbled his pockets in search of his phone, an annoyed groan told you it was bad news. “call someone. my battery just died and my powerbank’s outside.”

quickly you fished out your phone, only to find that it had the same fate. “ugh i have 10% left.” you slumped your sides to the shelves like there was no hope. “i’ll try to text hyejin.”

“hm i hope she’s not too far from the campus.” jaehyun leaned against the shelves opposite from you, his expression definitely amused with your reaction. a scoff of disbelief escaped your dry lips, sliding the phone to the shelf as you put your hair on one side. “that doesn’t sound good. what did she say?”

for all the things hyejin could do to help you get out of there, she’d rather sit and tease every single nerve of your body. “she said ‘you both just made your own seven minutes in heaven! i’m laughing out loud right now.’”

and for the things you thought jaehyun would disagree with your friend, he didn’t. it surprised you when his held-in giggles came bursting out from his chest. “it’s exciting. don’t you think?” he chuckled. “this is something you see in movies.”

“okay. tell me, what’s exciting about being locked-”

“we can ask each other questions. or any topic you’d like to talk about. i wanna know more about you.” he suggested, shutting you up because if he didn’t, you’d be quite a complainer. jaehyun bent to a squat, later stretching his legs until the soles reached the sides of your hips. “i rarely get the chance to talk to you properly and i guess this is the day, so scoot over.” he gestured you to move aside a little.

“gee i wonder why?” your voice came out sarcastically. “i don’t ignore people unlike a certain someone.”

“just sit down, will you?” jaehyun seemed to take the fact to heart.

you complied and sat exact the same as he did. the tiled floor sent cool to your legs but it didn’t really matter. jaehyun began by asking how you got into art; what motivated you to choose this field. “it’s just a childhood dream of mine to keep expanding my creativity. i wanna teach kids the joy in paint, that we’re not limited to using tools. i started painting with my hands and fingers when i was five.”

“really? i’m the same, except i was three when i painted.” his dimples deepening.

though you did answer him, you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him the whole story. you were just par in the arts, an average joe and always felt like your professors tied your wings together to express what you really wanted. every proposal you presented were rejected. if lucky, it still wasn’t good enough. not enough to reach jaehyun’s standards and world.

his shoes hit your hips again, the nudges were light and made you look to him. “your turn.” he said.

your eyes wander the dark room, the thin light from the sides of the door showing the outline of his face. “is it good? being called something you never wanted to be? did you know you’re gifted as a kid?”

“do you want my honest opinion?” he brought one leg to his chest, forearm resting on it as he start to ponder. hearing the soft shuffles from you in agreement, he gulped his dry throat to say the one thing he longed to say.

“i don’t like it.”

beyond speechless. you thought maybe he’d like the feeling of being center of attraction, or praised to have a skill that was out of this world. while you’d like to know what it felt like, it already told you enough that he wouldn’t want to be referred to as a prodigy. “not even a single bit?” alarmed, you squinted your eyes and he shook his head.

“i used to like it at first.. now i don’t,” jaehyun admitted but his face had changed the moment you asked him the one thing he never wanted to look back. “..because i was set apart from kids my age and they view me differently, nor have they ever treated me like every kid in the block.“

he continued how parents would tell him he was ‘inspiring’ or ‘i wish i had a kid like you; dedicated, and talented’. the claim have made him proud, yet this caused insecurity to most of his friends, and they distanced themselves from him. what was once the same ground they stood upon, it had quaked the earth and caused a wide gap. jaehyun hated the feeling of isolation by the will of others. though he had tried many times to reach out to them..

the gap continued to widen.

“there’s not much of a difference now.” he whispered yet audible enough for you to hear. ”i still have less friends. countable with fingers.. on one hand.”

probably the reason why he looked like a snob then.

“i see. so am i?.. part of your ‘friends’?” he heard you ask when reality hits you that you shouldn’t have said your thoughts out loud. closing your eyes for a bit, you heard the shift in his weight, he didn’t answer right away. it was as if he was still finding the words.

but he sat right beside you. “you’re already one when we both entered this classroom. i had a hunch you’ll be one i’ll treasure.”

if anyone was told the way he did just now, it would definitely make them smile. that was his honest opinion and you couldn’t help but smile at his words. he seemed to notice this too and let out a chuckle that was always music to your ears. “should we try to open the door again?” you changed the topic to avoid the awkward smile creeping your face. your hands gripped the knob and jaehyun tugged the hems of your jeans.

“y/n, if you do it further we’ll be damned if hyejin couldn’t open from the outside.” he stood that he was already behind you. “i’m not stopping you from trying though.”

“f-fine.” you leaned against the door, soothing your legs that experienced paresthesia. jaehyun pat your head like he always did whenever you unintentionally embarrass yourself, be it art or not whatsoever. “i just can’t seem to stay still.” oh gosh i don’t know what i’d do if i’m alone with him.

“yeah clearly.” he shrugged.

you had a scowled face and glad he didn’t see it. “the place’s so cramped-” you continued, walking to the chair you once stood on, only to lose balance when the shelves you held for support gave in to collapse from the weight it carried. with weight, the whole furniture wobbled to fall.

in a split second you felt yourself being lifted off the ground, a strong arm wrapping around your frame and saw yourself at the opposing side of the room. jaehyun closed into you as he managed to stop the some items from falling. the entire body of the cabinet covered and trapped you both in a tight place. the furniture tilted right behind him. one small move, the items could injure two and he didn’t want to risk that.

he could feel your breath touch his shirt and with the way you held his clothes, you definitely didn’t see this coming. “are you okay?” he thought there was a possibility of squishing you.

“uncomfortable, but i’ll manage.. somehow.” you honestly replied because there was no point in lying to him.. physically speaking, he’d know what you feel since he himself was also in discomfort. anyway, with your answer, this marked the third silence as there was another one creating yet another gap in the conversation.

okay y/n. you told yourself. you made everything awkward than before. first was you asked whether you were friends, which you already were. second was your stupid and careless behaviour that led to the position you’re both in now.

“what about you?” you asked after seeing the huge frame towering over both of your bodies, mostly onto his. so maybe that was another unnecessary question to ask.

jaehyun gulped and fixed his one of his palms that he gripped on the shelf behind you. you could see his adam’s apple move up and down, struggling to breathe. he pushed backwards to be able to see your face. tilting his head down, that movement alone made you look up. “uncomfortable, but i’ll somehow manage.” he smiled even though you knew he wasn’t.

“you know you’ll earn zero marks if you copy my answer.” you giggled, remembering the professor’s words at the beginning of the semester.

he flicked your forehead as he agreed with the obvious statement. “i heard him. anyway, it’s my turn to ask.”

“are we really playing the game now? can we at least try to figure how to get out of this position?” you began to whine and threw your head back where you hit your head, and you didn’t care how shameful you felt. you knew you wouldn’t stand any longer, your legs started to weaken because of stress— stress from everything jaehyun managed to make you feel, that included the little smiles and especially his hand around your waist.

jaehyun didn’t know why he put his palms behind your head before the incident happened but he knew he had to, with the way you flustered so much. he figured that you weren’t used to situations like these.

however a memory slipped into his mind that you were always your usual self with other guys around. he noticed how you held or hiccuped a breath whenever you both conversed. you and him weren’t particularly close to begin with, just enough to pass as friends and maybe it was his love for art that brought that gap closer to you.

right now? perhaps too close. literally.

“why not? it gets more fun.” he tried to hide the smile creeping his lips; at the sight of how irritated you were beneath him and he actually considered your plead to get you both to safety. but maybe he’d like to enjoy a little bit before doing so. “besides, there’s no way we can move properly with a lot of things blocking our surroundings.”

on both sides, the two of you were encased with large items and materials that were affected by the impact. “tsk.” you tilted your head to avoid looking at him. “at least try to push the huge cabinet?”

he did as he was told and from the grunts and exhausted voice, jaehyun gave up trying. “i don’t think i can. something’s probably caught in the gap between the wall and the furniture.” he tried to look over his shoulder to see if he was right.

“i thought prodigies don’t give up.” your voice sounded challenging to him.

“within the spectrum of our skill, we don’t. but outside our gift, we have the choice to.” jaehyun flicked your forehead again. “we get tired too.”

there was less force against your torso, he was trying to push the furniture again and you bubbled out a giggle. “wow you aren’t as cool as i thought you were.”

jaehyun wanted to hit you as you were being too playful at the wrong time. but as he brought his hand up, you closed your eyes shut to brace for the sharp impact. he sighed and his stomach growled in the most embarrassing way yet. “ugh, it’s because i haven’t eaten enough. i don’t have any strength left.” his stomach then growled louder.

maybe it was due to your bodies against each other’s and the heat starting to roam around the room. jaehyun clicked his tongue at the continuous mimicking of yours. “c’mon y/n i can’t be the only one doing the work here. help me push this heavy thing behind me.”

“uh no? do you think i could even help? don’t make me uncomfortable than i’m already am.” you moaned at the pain starting to grow along your spine. arching your back to avoid the discomfort from the shelves wasn’t really a good idea.

“ah you’re uncomfortable?” he implored with a smirk, his voice quite menacing as he leaned in to squeeze you between the cabinet behind you and himself.

for the whole time jaehyun knew that you didn’t mean whatever you said. he loved how you surprise him everyday and tonight he found you quite cheeky, and adorable too. by quite, it meant that you were like a child wanting to go home. a huff from him felt like the gust of wind. “‘i don’t have any strength left’.” you copied his words. seeing his lips pout, it was alright to give in. “will you treat me food if i help?” you returned the question because you treated him.

“you’re lucky you’re cute.” he suddenly said, with a soft chuckle, you knew he was smiling. it had gotten you speechless that it was hard to tell whether he said knowingly or not. “we can buy what the other wants after we get out of here, okay?” his attempt to get the wood off him yet again failed.

you clapped your hands quite hyperactively and squealed as if he asked you out on a date. “oh yay! okay. i wouldn’t want to be rained on for another hour anyway.” you teased, in which he exhaled heavily from his nostrils.

“i’m not that sweaty.” he grumbled, almost vibrating with the exertion of his energy.

“just perspiring.” you added.

he hit your head with his, for sure you’ll have a prominent bruise and that would make you a victim for hyejin for the next few days. or tonight, if she would get you both out. “that’s the same meaning.”

it took less than two minutes to take the weight off his back. jaehyun saw everything in slow motion— he was falling backwards and you, frontwards. “whoa!” for a moment you thought you hit yourself on a wall. that was for a brief second before the impact was replaced by a warm hug.

you checked if he was okay, he became your safe fall and again he saved you when you didn’t ask for it. “i didn’t expect.. i’m sorry.” you pressed your lips realising you were in between his legs.

he hissed at the pain and sat tiredly on the floor, using all of the fabrics of his clothes to wipe the sweat. “it’s okay.” he patted your back.

“right.. this is awkward. i better get off..” you chuckled and dusted your clothes awkwardly but what he said next really caught you off guard.

“do you want to do it?” he queried, taking you back as your head shot up and hit his chin with your forehead.

you blinked several times. “d-do what?” is this another question i won’t be able to answer?

there was a shaky grip on your waist, your heart hammered and you were afraid that he would hear it. “y’know what i’m talking about.” he put the hair strands away so he would be able to see your face under the lines of slim light.

“i don’t?” you choked on your own saliva. what was he talking about?

jaehyun’s breath made you freeze on the spot, along sudden silence. he giggled softly. “such a waste, you even have a perfect body.”

then the conversation from the two girls at the cafeteria entered your mind right when you thought deep. hold on, the rumours can’t be true..

he stood up shortly, cornering you by the door and the lights revealed his eyes, smiling shyly. “you have perfect proportions.” as of now, you were a little nervous. you couldn’t process what you were hearing from your crush’s lips and looked away where you could see hyejin’s figure closing the studio’s door.

finally hyejin’s here. i have to tell him. “uh jaehyu-”

“can you be my model?” he held your hands.

oh shoot it is true?

“i need someone to pose for my next art portrait and you’re the only one i can ask.”

‘well aren’t you quite the deep thinker~’ you could imagine hyejin’s voice telling you off at the back of your mind. you shook your head and shut your eyes for her imaginary presence to go away, making you miss seeing jaehyun’s expression turn to a small pout.

suddenly you felt like your soul left your body. what were you thinking y/n?! erase the thought! cleanse your mind from what you heard from the girls!

now you stopped being an embarrassment, you looked at him. however, before you could answer, the door swung open, causing you both to fall over and adjust to the lights above you. hyejin looked down at the two of you, her bubblegum popping with brows raised. “girl, i texted you back and said i’m opening the door. didn’t you see- oh, did i come at the wrong time?”

jaehyun quickly got on his toes, ears turning red while you covered your face in embarrassment. “this is a misunderstanding hyejin!” he stuttered and fixed his collar. you dug for your phone to check the message, but it died long before.

she blew another bubble and popped. “mhm, i can see that.” she winked at the both of you and turned to leave.

“hyejin!” you whined and clung on her legs.

“i’m leaving!” she singsonged and shook her ankles like you were a bug. “i’m giving you more alone time with your muse!”

“oh my g- you!” you chased her down. “quiet!”

she laughed cheekily and managed to exit the studio, sticking out her tongue and pointed behind you. ‘walk home with him!’ hyejin mouthed, and you couldn’t be more annoyed with her because that was indeed true. what was once a wishful thinking became reality. she knew you more than you did yourself.

as you sighed heavily, it got you hitching a breath that jaehyun might’ve heard and saw the whole thing. you turned around and he was packing his stuff, yours included. the artworks were left untouched since you both would be back here tomorrow. he gave your bag and you chose to not talk because you didn’t have the audacity to do. “so, uh. what were you saying earlier?” you hoped he would forget what he just saw.

“oh y-yeah. lemme just-” he took a deep breath and looked into your eyes. “..rephrase it- wait i’m your muse?”

of course he wouldn’t forget, it just happened. damn you, hyejin! you slouched on a nearby chair and wore your hood. “i was hoping you wouldn’t find out so soon.”

“i’m flattered. thanks.” his dimples hollowed. “i was asking if you could be my reference for my next art piece..” he trailed off recalling that you declined. “..though you shook your head quickly than i thought.”

“huh i did?” your voice affirming. “oh gosh i think i did.. i’m sorry i was hearing hyejin in my head when you said that.”

jaehyun’s eyes widened when all he heard was pure honesty from you. “so will you do it for me?”

“as long as i wear clothes while at it.” you consented with your arms crossed and began to feel heat spread your whole body at the thought of the rumour.

walking along the hallway, only the sounds of shoes grazing the carpet echoed the area. you didn’t know what else to say. he brought you to the nearest convenient store where the campus’ one was closed at the hour. the food you bought turned cold and you couldn’t afford to get sick because of it.

he pulled the chair for you to sit on. “you heard them as well.” he placed his bag down. he was aware of the rumours found around and was shocked to know you knew them too. “they’re not true.”

you propped your chin as he went back to the topic. “i know.” you agreed to his words. “they don’t describe you at all.”

jaehyun sat comfortably, a smirk appearing. “me being your muse fits the description-”

this guy.. “please don’t bring that up.” you pleaded with hands clasped.

“i’m teasing.” he chuckled. “i don’t mind if you refuse want to be my model.” he said. “but i assure i’m not like other artists who paints their naked model. i have a better plan for you.”

he was trying to convince you into his world and you were slowly getting into it. “that’s like saying you really want me to.” you took your wallet and he followed suit.

“what’s wrong with wanting to paint my new muse?” he slid his chair closer to the table; closer so he could see your reactions to his honesty.

when he said that, you never turned away so fast in your life. your chest never thumped so loudly and your eyes fluttered while he continued to press onto his question. 

an assuring smile showed on your lips and he mirrored it, already knowing your response. “nope, nothing wrong at all.” you shyly accepted his request.

jaehyun then stood to get the orders, his fingers warning you that the late dinner would be on him. your heart experienced blossoms and giddiness you hoped it’d stay forever. who knows? maybe being each other’s muse could turn into something more after tonight.  

[thepearlyone]

Artific-ial Desires

Pearly’s Notes: this one feels like one of my best ones yet! Not that this didn’t take a while, but it feels like I went through like nine or ten good, working drafts on this. Though it didn’t end up how I initially envisioned, the beast it has become is still so beautiful.

~for kiera~

(or, read it on google docs here! )

~~~~

The triangle-shaped corner store had recently sold- which wouldn’t have been notable in the slightest, except for the buyer. In just the past few days, grime was stripped away, windows were sparkled, new furniture rushed in, all at a breakneck pace- which was typical only for the most elite. And what’s more, the construction company was not the ‘ol reliable mom and pop’ kind, but a very specific one most people in the area didn’t even know. Therefore, someone had to be asking the gossip to spread like wildfire- and all signs pointed to the Lady Von-Quirandra.

The throng filled the entranceway to the newly refurbished boutique, packing themselves all into a doorway and front hallway meant for at least twenty people fewer. There was something about this kind of crowd that meant a spectacle- and Cassandra wasn’t about to miss out on one. It looked like she’d missed out on whatever the first showcase was, as the artificer had their back turned and was clearly answering a question while herding the crowd to another.

“Oh, they’re my own creation- you wouldn’t be able to even find anything remotely similar anywhere else, much less a shop that can match the level of intricate craftsmanship.” She muttered under her breath something about arrogance leading before a great fall, but the speaker’s bold claim definitely seemed apt.

Everything in the shop was dripping with quality, sometimes literally. The fine swirls of one of the displayed rings caught everyone’s eyes initially- the crowd even rushed forward in an attempt to prevent it from melting. Each ring in that display was set up and carefully lit (inside each box, of course) to appear as though it was melting, but each one was so solidly constructed that no one could say anything unpleasant about the effect.

“Now, onto another small invention of mine, I’m proud to finally unveil these-“ It was just a simple pair of diamond-shaped earrings. They looked impressive, but there really wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. At least, if there was, it wasn’t visible at the first blush, and the crowd was hurried over to the next booth quickly enough. However, Cassandra definitely wanted to ask about them, as if a one-on-one were even possible with such a famous artificer. She noticed the crowd thinning, as some of the younger members quickly fanned out to run home- after all, entering artificers’ shops were the kind of thing that mothers gave strict punishments for- and she could tell that a couple more of those leaving couldn’t have afforded the ‘intricate craftsmanship’ but wanted to have hope talked into them.

She tarried for as long as she could to look at the diamond-shaped earrings. The gems seemed to be simple studs, although she knew that a lot of concentration had been poured into the project. It was simple- but that made it all the more dangerous, as it could lure people into a false sense of security. The posts seemed to be a material similar to silver, but in the right lighting, Cassandra swore she saw it shimmer.

Ushered kindly to the next booth by everyone’s absence, she admired the plentiful array- sets, fully decked out in black velvet backing, laid out for the finest of society. These had to be personal commissions, things made for specific people in mind- either the artificer knew some slaves or nobles in need of their services, or perhaps they contacted THEM-

She chided herself on even considering that possibility- what the hell was she thinking? No noble-born family, especially not anyone the D’Antonias knew, would ever consider reaching out-artificing was dangerous business. No one ever cared how it happened, either, because if you stuck your neck too close to find out- it could end up adorned in the next showcase.

“Now, we’ve not yet gotten a private room, but those of you interested in our… New Acquisitions, please step this way. I’d be delighted to… guide each of you to them.” Even more fanned out, leaving a still rather sizeable crowd, with only a handful of them taking the opportunity to privately take an appointment.

New Acquisitions- the not-so-secret code word for slaves, either legal or illegal. Slaves had been quite controversial when first introduced a few decades ago, but now every family worth their weight in gold had them, and it was almost just another job. Slave applications were valuable and showed that you were selflessly serving another family- but there were still criminals. Unscrupulous individuals, people who might seek out an artificer to do the dirty work rather than submit their findings to the Justice Computer… Unhappy spouses, unruly coworkers, anyone who might be able to scrape up enough cash.

Then again, they could end up in the same position they wished for someone else- when trying to trick an artificer… It was always hard to tell with them. Everything was.

The lucky moment meant that she could go back to examining what she pleased- the simple earrings. Cassandra was very careful not to touch anything, but she drew quite close to them. The plain diamond-shaped crystals didn’t seem to hold any secrets, and as she carefully maneuvered the box into the light, it merely added to her curiosity. The earrings’ posts still sparkled slightly, meaning this had to be some sort of odd material- but it would only mean that Cassandra would have to ask. Why one pedestal and ‘proud to unveil’ for one pair of earrings that didn’t have anything odd to them?

~~~~

The individual meetings went by faster than anyone could imagine, with more of the crowd flowing out of either the showroom or shop- dazzled at the spectacle. Cassandra carefully slinked back towards the main group, acting as though she was admiring other pieces- a ring here, passing the couple of sets, until-

“Ah, hello there- I hope you’re enjoying the new opening?” She gasped, as they drew much closer to her. The fourteen people now left in the shop began to spread throughout the shop’s layout, leaving her in a far more intimate setting than she previously thought possible. The crowd cover had certainly been nice- but they were now milling up and down the aisles to gawk at the dainty jewelry, the tinkered toys, and the gorgeous gadgets.

Her attention snapped back to the artificer, who was now holding a curious device, one that seemed to be purifying the air. Cassandra had heard about them before, but never seen one so close, or so small- much larger versions were used in air factories. It only took her a few seconds to understand it- the small embroidered gas-bag at the back would fill, and slowly get puffed out by the user- and her mind dismissed it from any chance of danger.

She gave a polite yet faint smile, her mind racing to prepare some sort of platitude that would be enough to avoid detection.

“I certainly admired many of your pieces.” This was said with more than a little trepidation, which the artificer seemed to enjoy, bringing out a smile from underneath their goggles and wide-brimmed smithing hat.

“oh? So you know the rules…” And she did. She was very well-acquainted with them: her mother had even had a few friends whisked away under the Equal Rites, she’d seen them happily smiling with enchanted collars and enchanted rings… of course, for some of them she had been too young to understand, but now-

The slight puff of air brought her quickly back to reality, where the artificer stood next to her. They were clad in a soft shimmering gown, one that played off of their curves just like some of the rings on display. It wasn’t as frilly or poofy, and yet seemed to accentuate their body shape with an extra dimension- lending an odd effect to the gown. Cassandra wasn’t familiar with the material- as many artificers used off-world or off-dimension materials in their own creation… And now it was clear she was staring again, so she had to clear her throat and ask a question or else seem like a buffoon.

“Your own design?” This elicited a knowing smile, and a slow circular glide from their feet in a twirl around. This was to show the dress off, undoubtedly, and Cassandra delighted in it.

“No, unfortunately- but it was my material. The dressmaker from that forest with the slightly lewd name, in case you’re wondering how to get a matching set.” The reply almost seemed teasing, knowing- as if they could know her life story with just a glance. Again, not as if she’d be able to afford anything close to a single piece from the shop without serious considerations both conceptual and legal, financial (and legal) assistance, and magical ward prevention insurance. Even drafting up a contract would be far above her abilities and pay grade, but it could be the only surefire way to avoid any nastiness from anyone involved- especially an artificer.

“Hmm.. I would typically ask if there was one piece that stuck out to you, but I get the feeling I already know what it is. Given your silence… I’d like your name before I guess.” The remnants of the crowd had been slowly filtering out, unbeknownst to her, with one or two pieces being sold- the in-shop lawyer was already beaming and haggling with clients which Cassandra *had* seen- and the corner-store size lent the appearance of being quaint or familial. She had to admit it was a clever arrangement.

“I- sorry. Between the dress and the other pieces, I guess I’m a little starstruck. It’s not every day you get to ‘meet’ one, you know.” She hoped that her cheeks hadn’t blossomed into a blush- although there was no way to know for sure, only to hope and observe the artificer. She also hadn’t meant to any malice, although the hint of a second meaning was merely waiting to be picked up.

They were dangerous folk- many artificers had been caught with entire houses or brothels full of newly-rited thralls. Even tales of just one catching the eye of an entire town, using nothing but forks or pushpins or paperclips or slivers of metal and the inimitable inextricable tool that was their own wit, danced around the fringes of villages. Artificers were not to be listened to, a ‘boogeyman’ that assisted everyday life, that generously acted while greedily taking- in the same instance. Payment could very well be ‘your firstborn’ when dealing with them, and if it was… You’d best hope you weren’t an eldest child.

They took just another second to respond, a hand darting out from the gown. An immaculate white glove, made from plain cloth- which caused her internal tension to unwind quite a bit- which asked for her own hand.

“The name is Von-Quirandra, as I’m sure you’re no doubt aware. The shop is mine, recently acquired with… a little help.” The slight break made Cassandra take note, but she was careful not to advertise it as they continued-

“You may be wondering about the lawyer, he’s a family friend and came with the store.” She noticed a slight glint in the light, and this may have tipped them off because they continued, “Any and all gifts would be voluntary, non-contractual, and specifically not enchanted.”

“After all, I couldn’t expect someone to willingly accept things from an artificer without proper vetting or lineage- so you may view his, in the back office.”

They cleared their throat again, “As I requested, your name would be..?”

“Cassandra.” She didn’t know why she offered it so plainly.

“Cassandra…” The soft utterance, a shower of heavenly stars captured and smoothed into a ribbon off of which the word slid. They said it plainly yet perfectly, her skin crawling with delight and disquiet- but more of the former.

“Cassandra. Quite a lovely name. May I guess which piece caught your eye?” She nodded gently, as if trying to quiet and push aside the thoughts that yelled about the danger of even talking to an artificer.

“My first guess would be the Quirmian Collar- oh, I mean- the one on display towards the front of the store that you must have seen as you entered.” Truth be told, that was the one she’d missed, although the light was quite pretty on it. A highborn slave might wear such a necklace, so it wasn’t something Cassandra could have or even aspired to. No, their family didn’t wish for slaves- or wish to be them.

“Judging by the way you haven’t lit up like a firework, I’d say another one.. Allow me to try again- a private commission of mine? Perhaps the jade engraved set- I bet…” This time, their face moved even closer to her, as if quizzically judging her.

“No.” The terse response plopped out after another moment of silence.

“I see, Cassandra. Might I be permitted one last guess?” They matched her grin, and Cassandra hoped with all her heart that she didn’t appear to be blushing. With how both afraid and stimulated she was, her brain continued to rattle off reasons to leave, but her feet stayed put.

“The third and final guess is… Hmm. I don’t wish to waste it… I can rule one thing out, though- I know you didn’t request a private showing, so I’ll guess… the melting rings, using the sands of Terr-sichoré?”

Their previous smile began to curl into a frown. Their eyebrows, too-

“You seem to be much more of a mystery than you let on, Cassandra. Please.”

She blinked, unsure of what exactly to do and yet still recovering from the way they said her name.

“Please, tell me some more- what did you like? How might I know you?”

“I-uh, well, you know my name, and I come from the D’Antonia-“

“Oh!! Oh my goodness, Cassandra D’Antonia… I am humbled to have you in my presence.” Their crimson lips whispered the word with a soft affect- the perfect shiver traveling up her back in accordance with it. Her cheeks were now a beet-red. There was no chance of hiding it anymore.

“Thank you. I, erm, happened across the crowd, and…”

“There’s nothing to apologize for. The crowd seemed to mostly be there to be talked to, but I did get quite a few purchases. More than I expected, if I may confide in such a prestigious family. It’s a shame that-“

Cassandra turned, hearing rather loud footsteps, which revealed just how startled and absorbed in each other they both were. She swore that despite her own reddening cheeks, the Lady Von-Quirandra seemed to be blushing as well. They turned back towards the lawyer, and were handed a report- although it only needed a quick scan of her attention.

“Ah, thank you. If you could, I think we could use a little more privacy.” The Lady Von-Quirandra handed it back to the lawyer, who withdrew to the office again, but that comment stuck in her mind. It caused her to notice-

She was alone. With an artificer. In their own shop.

“So, Cassandra- I understand you are just a bit afraid. There’s plenty of reason to be… but for a lady such as yourself, I wouldn’t dare try anything unless you asked for it.” their gown swished gently as they drew within whispering distance, voice so soft and smooth.

“I would be wonderfully glad to show the D’Antonia house around. If there is anything you can think of…”

The answer leapt from her mouth before she had time to realize it.

“The earrings.” Realizing she’d said it out loud, her eyes widened in intertwined surprise and fear, her arm now moving up to clamp her mouth shut.

Their eyes flashed in shock behind the goggles, so much so that they removed them.

“Oh my… Cassandra… I didn’t think it would be you who might fall prey to them.” The reverence that they had for her name… Goddesses be damned, the artificer might as well be kissing her right on the-

Her cheeks were barely able to burn a brighter red, as the flame colors spread up her ears and forehead. Banishing the thought, she blinked- only to look into the Lady Von-Quirandra’s… beautiful eyes. Their visage was so soft yet toned, pale- but it had a moonlight brilliance to it.

Even more striking, they took her hand- guiding it back towards the pedestal where the earrings await. The simple box, with the inelaborate studs… soon, the answers would be revealed. But did she really want them?

Their cotton enveloped hand began to caress her cheek, sending a wave of calm throughout her body.

“Oh, Cassandra… such a pretty darling. You’d like to know what’s so special about these?” They cooed, their normally charismatic voice turning lower and smoother- almost sultry… She nodded, her eyes fluttering under their careful ministrations- as if they were massaging her oh so wonderfully.

“You’re right about them. They’re so very special. One thing I’ve been working on for, well, years. My little personal project. They’re made with specific people in mind…” Her ears (and arousal) perked up slightly, but the soothing hands made sure it was only barely noticeable as she relaxed further.

“First, I do suppose a quick lesson in magic is required.” Their soft little titter revealed a delight in Cassandra she hadn’t thought was requited- but must have been all along.. The workshop entrance was right near them, and The Lady closed the door- hanging up their goggles carefully and continuing to explain.

“Magic requires power- the ability to mold the natural world… A focus or desire for that change… and some method to focus both power and desire into a physical good. A contract.” Some of this was purred delicately into Cassandra’s ear, and some was simply stated- as the hat slipped off and was put away on top of the goggles.

“We artificers simply adore making contracts-it’s much of the sparkle that helps each of us enjoy life. Having even just one minute of someone else’s life… access to their own imbued power, to their thoughts, their memories… I find it delectable.”

“So… I’m sure that you wish to draw up a contract… properly. Before you try them on, and for you to understand what they can do. I’ll ask for an hour, minimum of ten minutes…” Their moonlight skin had turned to a soft flushed rose now, having clearly… warmed up to Cassandra. This line of thoughts seemed to meander aimlessly, ending with a soft bump into the word ‘please’- whispered pleadingly to Cassandra.

She certainly was curious. Although her fears about artificers couldn’t be assuaged, The Lady certainly had an interest in her. Her mind was racing, risks thrown aside- filled with the new possibilities and the desire of pleasing someone who was interested in her rather than her family’s wealth or status. The ideas whirred in front of her-

Well, the lawyer would be available to draw up the contract. She’d be able to give just ten minutes… It could possibly endear her to The Lady, and it would be a way to get a free piece- which could be given off to another for disenchanting and selling… it, just in case. Presuming it didn’t do anything first. At the very least, she could talk to the lawyer alone.

And if… if the Lady did harbor certain unsavory desires for her, it might be… beneficial to get in- get out- and then use the money from the other artificer she found to disappear. See? There was definitely a way to escape. She’d be fine.

~~~~

Entering the lawyer’s office was strikingly different, as everything was simultaneously neatly organized and a sprawling jungle of paperwork. Cassandra was able to find it oddly relaxing- far enough away from the Lady Von-Quirandra to be immune from anything untoward, but close enough to still feel her influence on everything in the room. The finely crafted chairs, the softwood desk, the carefully stacked papers…

“So- I’m sure you understand the typical thoughts most clients have. Rest assured, you aren’t alone here- I’m also here to help. I’ve got some preliminary documents drawn up, although I’d need your help and name to complete them.” He was about six feet tall, making him just a bit shorter than The Lady (but larger, and certainly more mountainous than Cassandra). He had an awfully kind smile, and definitely seemed to be groomed daily in order to keep up appearances- the suit was certainly professional enough. However, her eyes were drawn to-

“Sir… your ears..!” Cassandra was quite surprised to find a pair of earrings in his ears, not quite matching the ones out there in the box- diamond shaped, but certainly of a much plainer material. It didn’t shimmer in the light, but still had the same design…

He shrugged this off with a chuckle, taking them out and showing them to her. “They’re quite plain, unlike the ones Milady has been working on. I requested the first prototype as payment for a rather unruly client.” Seeing them alone, with no box, made them feel so… Unremarkable. Tame, almost.

“I assure you, they are not enchanted in any way. Shall we get down to business now?” She nodded curtly, offering her name- which elicited a soft gasp from the lawyer, but did not pause his diligent writing. The D’Antonia name was still weighty enough to cause a dent- even though they’d fallen on harder times lately.

“Well, with that finished… How much time are you willing to give her? Would you like to give the full hour, or just the ten-minute minimum?” She paused, faltering…

“Sir… I still don’t know what it does.”

“I know.” His response was curt and quick.

“And that doesn’t seem odd to you?” Her eyebrows furled in shock, examining his haptics, trying to find any sign that she might be given a ‘free’ preview. One where she might not be risking anything.

“Of course not. It’s part of the guarantee- you won’t be able to share anything about the piece with Milady’s competitors if you walk away, and if you’re given an enforceable contract, you’ll have to abide by it. On the other hand, signing this contract will also protect Milady from anything untoward, as you can see from these paragraphs right here.” Well, he certainly was a good lawyer- she noticed those paragraphs, and her own family’s training told her that it was close enough to airtight for her safety…

“I see. So instead of a trial period, this contract is a trial period, and after the ten minutes, it will come off. Is that right?”

“Yes. If you’d like, we can draft up another contract for purchase when you’re done.”

“We’ll see.” She finished with the four-page document, taking the offered pen. “How is the time determined?”

“I’ve got the proper stopwatch right here, Ms. D’Antonia.” He pulled it out of his drawer, presenting her with a silver stopwatch- and she instantly noted the protective runes carved in it. Not only would it be protected from any magical interference, but it would undo any magical changes if it surpassed 30 seconds from the allotted time. And since there would be no way for either of them to mess with it… She turned it over in her hands before setting it down and sliding the contract under it.

“Are you ready, Ms. D’Antonia? The time will start when you exit the doorway.”

Cassandra’s signature and smug smile was enough to prove that she was. She’d find out about these mysterious earrings, and prove to herself that all the danger about artificers was nonsense. After all, she had this contract to protect her.

~~~~

The Lady met her right as she opened the door outwards, leaning against the pedestal they’d placed. Their smirk was much more graceful than before, although it still betrayed a particular interest in her.

“You haven’t left the doorway yet… Cassandra.~” Yet again, their words were a fluttering crescendo of affection.

“Well, ‘Milady’, you do have me ‘captive’ for ten minutes.” They cracked open the plain box, nodding… Their artificing gear was entirely gone, as well as the cotton gloves- allowing Cassandra a look at their face. It was rather smooth, with only a couple of wrinkled scars, as well as the common ‘forge-tan’… and yet it was so gorgeous Cassandra couldn’t help but look at it.

They brought the earrings forth, allowing Cassandra to examine them even more, but teasingly pulling them away at the last second. Only once she extended her fingers… finally touching the object of her intrigue, turning it over carefully. The earring backs seemed to be new, since she hadn’t been able to take it out previously, but she quickly found herself slipping them into one ear, and then the other.

That must have been what was so alluring about them, their simplicity…

Her foot involuntarily moved forward at the same time she heard a very loud CLICK in both ears. She felt the earring backs twist slightly, something fall to the ground…

and her thoughts vanished. Everything except what was directly in front of her faded, her mind shutting down instantly, only able to track what They.. no, Milady, was doing. The clack of Milady’s heels felt so dull, only picking up when something slipped from Milady’s lips.

“Cassandra? Are you still in there?” Their voice seemed almost… afraid. Had she been able to think properly, she would have known it was tinged with their concern and affection for her.

The response was a dry, dull, almost robotic “Yes, Milady.” Her head could not move an inch, she was so deeply and utterly enthralled.

“You’re not uncomfortable, are you?” And now this demanded the reverse- she wasn’t uncomfortable, which was the oddest thing to her. Everything in her body must have been stiff, and yet she felt as if she were laying on a fine cushion.

“Good. I… I would like you to tell me of yourself. Then, how you feel about… me. Artificers.” Milady looked exhausted, but so wonderfully happy- their eyes welled with tears from seeing their invention so perfected. They pulled up an ornate chair in front of her, listening attentively with their head perched atop one of their palms. They seemed so at ease… resting into the chair’s natural shape and the armrests to listen to their little subject.

“Where should… should…” This quickly brought out a gasp, and widened eyes from Milady-

“Is Cassandra unsure how to refer to herself at the moment, with the backs in place?” It seemed like they had some experience with this, then- perhaps only one other, though, given their tone and reactions.

“Yes Milady.”

“Cassandra ought to use the third person for now. Understood? Nod, please, then continue from the beginning- starting with how she’s feeling, and then when she entered the shop.”

A gentle nod from Cassandra’s head, along with an odd feeling- bliss… presumably from following Milady’s order. Is this what artificers did normally? Have the thralls talk to them? If she could have a consistent thought, she would have tried to hold onto that one, but it was pushed down into nothingness by the calming backs.

“Cassandra is unsure what she is experiencing. She is… feeling odd. Although she stopped in to examine the spectacle, she felt… drawn to these earrings. Curious about them. There was something special about them.” Her speaking paused, as she saw Milady holding up one finger.

“Cassandra, please speak normally. Although… just a hint like this. Nod if you understand, and continue.” She felt her vocal cords unlock with a curt nod, utterly freeing her except for one- mouth finally able to move at her own will… but there was still the lingering urge to simply say what she was directed to.

“Cassandra is now aware of what might be so special about them. They make Cassandra unable to think. Unable to disobey, Milady.” At least her speaking had returned to normal- but that thought, too, slipped down into the void.

“I… Would normal Cassandra… How does Cassandra feel about me?”

“Cassandra feels intrigued, interested, stimulated, a-“

“I meant… Does Cassandra like me?” Now Milady was easily blushing, covering their face slightly.

After a very slight pause… “Yes, Milady.” was uttered from her lips, much of the affection she still felt dripping from her words.

“Does… Cassandra know how I feel about her as well?” This was clearly said with a tinge of embarrassment, but curiosity had taken Milady over.

“Cassandra feels that… yes, Milady may perhaps like her. Especially now, like this.”

“O-oh. I see. The attention is, ah, requited. Good! I, ah, believe we’ll move on now…” Milady was covering their head with their hands, clearly turning a deeper flushed red. Had Cassandra been able to properly recall this later, she would have noticed that Milady had turned away from her vision and towards a clipboard to assist hiding their shame.

“Very well… increase vision to normal parameters-“ which meant she could see again, able to focus and look around normally, “standard head mobility as well, and increase thoughts to twenty percent.” She…

Cassandra was thinking. In front of an artificer.

“Kneel.”

Cassandra was kneeling and looking up at an artificer. The sheer danger of what she had done pumped through her veins, but she could not bring herself to move any more than turning away her head slightly- but she didn’t want to look away from the beautiful Lady Von Quirandra.

“Oh my, that feels much better… more domineering, don’t you think?” This brought out an electrified smile, one that she stared at, enraptured and terrified alike. Their hand reached out to tip up her chin with a giggle, stroking her cheek and calming her in the process.

“Please… I know you’re probably afraid, but I don’t wish you to be. I wanted you to experience… this.” It was certainly blissful, not to have to think. Not to be a noble. Not to occupy oneself with all these preconceived notions, manners, passions, etiquette that had to be followed every second of being –

“Cassandra.” That name again, the one that made her eyelids flutter from simply hearing The Lady Von Quirandra say it. However, her eyes had to be open again- so they were opened.

“Please increase thoughts to full. How are you feeling?”

“I… what the hell did you do to me?” She couldn’t help but ask this in the kindest way possible, filled with a curiosity and a wistful arousal- this thought a balloon, inflating with potential.

“The backs have a certain enthralling power. One to eliminate potential thought, even as it happens, to allow for someone to control the wearer entirely. What’s more, they keep their wearers nice and obedient.” The Lady almost said this a little lustily, clearly enjoying the moment- but also playfully and reassuringly… looking down straight into Cassandra’s hazel eyes.

“I hope you understand their power well, now. At the end of your time, you’ll make a decision. It may not be today, perhaps in a few days, or weeks. I hope that you’ll choose to become my.. ah, well… ‘apprentice’.” The Lady went back to covering their face and peeking out at the kneeling figure below them

Her face contorted in shock, stretching in disbelief- before snapping back to a central position. Apparently her shoulders were not allowed to move much, but her face and brain were still ‘allowed’ to move. An apprentice? To an artificer? She couldn’t believe the offer- not least of which for being one of the least qualified people on the planet, but also for the incredulity of it all.

“I understand that you might be a-“

“Your apprentice, Lady??? I don’t know the first thing about-!~”

“Hush, please. I don’t wish for Ashton to be disturbed.” Her jaw instantly slipped shut.

“And that’s not quite true- I taught you ‘the first thing about magic’, and really all you would need to know. I… I need someone acquainted with selling. It truly takes a toll on me to do these kinds of shows. I can’t always afford the… showmanship to get up and move every time that a lot of nobles say I ought to show off my work more.” They slumped further into the chair, clearly sulking.

“I’m skilled, as you can see, but… not there, in that kind of arena. I’d rather be sticking my head in the oil jar than trying to upsell a ring that I didn’t even put that much effort into.”

Throughout this rant, Cassandra could see the lines on their face- clearly an exhausted person, much like her family- trying to get by the best they could.

“…besides, it would be… more than that.” The Lady cleared their throat before continuing, leaving a hefty dramatic pause.

“You could be free from your family name.”

The impossible idea spread through her mind in stages. Relief from the D’Antonias’ strict rules, the imposed penny-pinching, the etiquette- then that she would be with someone. Of course, the idea settled back in of artificers, and much worse-

“And you would only have one restricted hour at most. Maybe two, if we both feel… intimate that night.” This was said in increasingly hushed tones, causing an outbreak of blushing on both of their parts.

“Are you… proposing??” The Lady squealed in shame, answering-

“O-oonly to be my… girlfriend! I don’t want you to get any ideas of that just yet, but… I think I’d like that as well… I could make us a pair of rings, later…”

The flustered D’Antonia heiress couldn’t help but keep opening and closing her mouth, flabbergasted by the idea that seemed

“Keep your mouth shut, dear. Just… think about it for when you’re done. Which is… hm, soon. Too soon…” The backs pulsed gently with enchanted power, and the carefully wound silver pocketwatch chimed with one minute left.

“Return to thrall mode, just for now- but keep the vocal modifiers.” She felt her thoughts be blasted into the wind again, her body relaxing even further, letting go of all the tension inside her…

“Just keep relaxing, little Cassandra… I want you to understand what this is like. How blissful this can be for you. How obedient you can be made. And that this is an offer unlike any other- one where I will use you, remold you, make you into a new beautiful piece- one worthy of your own name. No more silly D’Antonia to hold you back and keep you inside a gilded prison.”

The Lady seemed much calmer, maintaining that more dominant affect, but… if Cassandra were able to think, she’d know it was as if a heavy weight had been lifted from each of them. For the few seconds, they smiled and admired their thrall, four cheeks blushing in turn.

~~~~

The timer went off, returning Cassandra to her normal thoughts instantly- though it left her blushing as red as the first dress she’d ever worn to her family’s elegant ball. She rose, tentatively, under the gaze of The Lady. They slightly rose and-

It was just her instincts acting now, her base fear- and she ran out of the small corner shop into the rain. The thump of her heart pounding in her ears drove out the surprised shriek of the lawyer, the splash of mud against the cobblestone street, leaving behind only the knowledge of which street to take- left, right, center down the path here…

Cassandra arrived at the manor steps, and collapsed to her knees… a relentless sob had taken hold of her, tears and rain both streaking across her face.

Truth be told, she hadn’t realized she’d even stolen the backs until she’d taken them out of her ears, and yet- the urge to still treat them with care was there. All of this was happening so suddenly. There was so much that she just… didn’t know. Her own feelings were a jumble of butterflies, swirling and fluttering around inside…

She tried to sort them, to herd them- the way her mother had taught her, giving them all names and pretty colors, making them butterflies in her own mind-[herbarium].

But as soon as she’d plucked one out from the swirling horde, visualizing its soft iridescent wings, picturing the soft caress of Their glove again-

no.

Her legs crumpled weakly, pleading that no one would see her like this, so disheveled and undone by… the new shop.

She’d return to the shop tomorrow, return the backs, leave a note of thanks just to be… cordial enough, and just… flee. Run away somewhere. Get away from this ancient town and its horrid artificer.

The offer was just too good to be true.

~~~~

Some time later…

“Ah, hello, Missus Val-Periton! May I escort you to the back? Your pendant is ready.” Cassandra beamed happily at the couple that had strolled into the shop, her own earrings sparkling in the multitude of framed lights. The new verdant dress she strolled around the shop in was almost the shop’s mascot- with the new sign painted with a cartoonish version of it draped alongside the logo. Business was booming, especially since a familiar face could help ease the fears about artificers.

Her Lady Von Quirandra was placing the finishing touches on the precious pendant, and the couple was more than glad to finish paying- the pendant sparkled brilliantly in Her Lady’s hands. As the couple strolled out of the shop proudly, Her Lady gently brushed their hand against her cheek, repeating with the softest possible murmur the most precious words they both knew.

“You did so well for Me, Thrall Cassandra. I love you.” And with an idolizing sigh, Cassandra D’arvon Quirandra returned them.

fin

[abstract-kat]

Samurai Jordan, the Mianite AU This is an AU, and a prologue of sorts that I wrote in a one in a blue moon burst of inspiration. :D

Prologue: A Man, a Myth, and a Legend.

Jordan blinked, his eyes bleary and his vision swaying. He had trouble focusing, the world around him was far too bright for him to make out anything. His limbs felt prickly, a sign of numbness. He wants nothing more than to go back to sleep, but the Gods seem to disagree. A brisk, freezing cold wave crashes onto his back, making him jump. Cold sea water flies in the air as he scrambles away from the edge of the water, further onto the cold beach. 

Waking up, alone on a beach after falling through a seemingly endless void, his muscles aching from probably months of sleep. An unfortunately familiar feeling to him.

Jordan presses his back against something in the sand, wiping at his stinging eyes and shivering as saltwater drips down his chin. But then he stops. And reaches back behind himself, towards the object he’s leaned up against.

“Isn’t this…?”

He brings the item- the sword, in front of him, studying it. This was the same sword. He was sure of it.

The Sword of Light.

“Now, how’d you end up here with me?”

Items normally never came with him whenever he crossed dimensions. 

Jordan ran his fingers down the metal of the sword, feeling a faint warmth emanating from the metal itself. A weapon that embodied the Light that stood against the Dark, a weapon of purity.

...So why did this one?

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

Jordan screams.

He unsheathes the blade, spinning around, coming face to face with… nobody? Jordan looks to his left, and then to his right, still finding nobody else. He was sure he was alone.

So why does it feel like somebody was breathing down his neck?

“You’re quite the jumpy one aren’t you?”

He swerves on his heels again, trying to pinpoint where the woman’s voice is coming from, when he stops. He recognizes that voice… he thinks.

There’s hesitance to Jordan’s voice, as he calls out, “M’Lady?”

“Do I LOOK like- Wait. No, that joke doesn’t work. Damn it.”

...That isn’t his Lady.

“Real genius aren’t you? For your information, I’m down here sweetie.”

Jordan looks down, past the sword, and into the sand under his shoes. He’s not sure what he should be seeing. His eyes wander up from the sand, to the silver blade in his hands, squinting as the metal catches the light in the golden embellishments in the metal.

“Oh sorry dear, is my dazzling beauty blinding you?”

Jordan’s thoughts halt, and he tilts his sword slightly, studying it, “You’re… the sword?”

“You’re learning!”

He was beginning to grow tired of this sword’s...lip.

“And I’M tired of getting passed around from asshole to asshole, but what can I do?”

Jordan stabs the sword back into the sand, intending to let go, and be on his merry way without a possessed and probably cursed sword that refused to leave his hand.

Why couldn’t he let go?

“Sorry pal, afraid I’m not letting you walk away so easily.”

Jordan’s blood runs cold as he suddenly feels the warmth of the blade against his neck, warmer than it had been before. He can’t make himself let go, nor can he bring the blade away from his own throat. He’s trapped.

“Now who do you work for? Answer quickly boy.”

He can’t form words properly, too many thoughts running through his head all at the same time, most of them unhelpful “W-What?”

“What did I just say?”

“...”

“...Fine. All those who have come into possession of me in the past, have all been thieves and schemers. Men after fame and glory. So what are you after?”

Jordan doesn’t know what to tell this woman….Spirit? Sword?? He doesn’t really remember specific details from what happened before he jumped into the void.

...Except he didn’t jump. Not this time.

Images flash through Jordan’s mind. Memories returning, rapid, harsh, and hurting his head.

Fighting Gandus. The Gods are there. Defeating the Wizard. The Darkness abandoning her. Winning the war. Ianite’s proud smile. ...There’s a sword through Karl’s chest. Watching the life leave his eyes. He drops dead. The culprit is swinging at him now. FIghting another battle. Getting the upper hand. Almost winning. Ianite’s screaming for him. Pushed back into an opening portal. ...Tom’s grin.

“...Did I seriously just sit through you having a flashback?”

Jordan takes a breath, the sword no longer at his throat, and his hand reaches up to rub at the skin. He’s still holding the sword in his other hand.

“Well… At least you’re not trying to pawn me off for a few gold pieces.” “What’s your name?”

“J-Jordan. Jordan Maron.”

“Jordan.” The spirit’s voice addresses him, “I saw three Gods in those memories of yours. Whom do you follow?”

“I am a follower of Balance and Justice. ...Champion of Lady Ianite.”

The spirit is quiet for a moment. Jordan wonders why, until he hears a quiet statement, almost a whisper.

“Champion of Lady Ianite. Goddess of Balance...and Justice.”

The whisper in his ear is a voice he finds so familiar, yet so foreign at the same time.

“Uh…”

He wants to address the spirit, but calling this spirit the Sword of Light feels...wrong. He doesn’t like it.

He finds himself studying the blade once again, tracing the symbols in the metal.

“You are a follower of the Goddess. I suppose I can give you my name.”

Jordan briefly wonders what that means, until he catches sight of the symbols on the blade under his fingers. The golden marks seem to shift and distort, forming something else, something Jordan can comprehend, and he speaks her name aloud.

 “...Aianite?”

The name rolls off his tongue before he can realize he’s said it aloud. It sounds like the name of a Goddess. So alike the names of the three Gods he’s grown so familiar with. 

But placing that same title to this name feels as right to him as it did when he held Ianite’s gift to him for the first time. The heaviness of the wood, the way his fingers curled around the grip so perfectly. A weapon crafted for him, a bow made for him, perfectly balanced. Like his lady is. Like he is meant to be. 

Jordan’s deafened to the softest sound of shifting sands, disturbed by slow, precise footfalls.

“The one and only, dear Champion.” The Goddess tells him.

“...Excuse me?”

Jordan’s head snaps towards the interrupting voice. A deep, hoarse voice. He recognized it. Even if it feels like it’s been a long time since he last heard it.

“Declan?”

-------------------------

Jordan recognized this place. How could he not? He had many fond memories of this place. His introduction to it. Building his own little pieces of it. Finding pride in it. Defending it. He knew this was the same place.

Even if it didn’t look like how he remembered it. 

“This is… all wrong.” is the only thing Jordan can bring himself to say.

“...I will admit, when you told me stories of this place, it sounded like a fantasy to me.” Declan tells him. “But we both know this isn’t the same future you once described to me.”

Though Declan had not aged, as the vassal of the triumvirate is never meant to, Jordan can tell, the Declan that stands with him is much older than Jordan can possibly imagine. 

Jordan sees it in the strands of gray in his unkempt orange hair, in the way his eyes look into the distance, so full of sorrow and exhaustion. The man beside him may not age physically, but the passage of time has still changed him. The man he stands with has seen so much, and he’s so… so tired.

“When you had vanished, Jordan,” Declan began again, “The Gods spoke to me. Told me to hide myself away. To hide from him. The one who had destroyed their trust.”

Jordan hisses, the name, quietly. Anger bubbling in his blood, his grip on the Sword of Light tightening. He feels her concern for him, but he can’t bring himself to calm down. Not knowing what he knows now.

“I was alone. I could not search for help. ...Not yet at least.” Declan continues, undeterred.

“I had to watch everything you all built, everything any of us ever cared for-- And I had to stand by, and watch it all burn. And I had to watch his empire rise.”

The priest walks, guiding Jordan, through a beautiful scene. Pitch black gnarled trees surround the two of them, stretching upward, much taller than Jordan remembered they were when he first walked this path. The golden leaves gently fall, flowing with the breeze, casting faint light from where they come to rest in the grass and the dirt, illuminating the world around the two.

Declan casts his weary gaze on Jordan, “She tried to find you, you should know. You were her champion, and she couldn’t accept you were gone too. She searched as far as she could, but she couldn’t leave the rest of us. Not while he was still around.”

“There was no resistance, once you were gone. While the three of them were scrambled and disorientated, He set his sights on somebody more powerful. The one individual left who truly posed a threat to him and his new patron.”

“...Angrec?” Jordan took a shot in the dark.

“Oh Mother....”

Declan nodded, “Angrec was attacked, and slain by him. The trio had been too slow to react, and it cost them dearly.”

“But before Angrec perished, she passed on some final wisdom to her three children” Declan added on, directly meeting Jordan’s eyes, “She spoke that you were not dead, but that you could not help them. Not yet. 

“Declan… I’m one man. I can’t-” 

“You will not be alone Jordan.” The Priest interrupts Jordan’s thought.

 “...The Gods needed to grow stronger in your absence, and when you would return, all four of their powers would be needed to take down this threat. For good.”

“...All four of their powers?”

“Ianite’s powers, Mianite’s powers, Dianite’s powers…” Declan casts a glance down at the sword at Jordan’s side, “And Aianite’s powers.”

“....You know about Aianite?”

The Priest nods, “Aianite was born the same time Ianite was, the two were twins, inseparable in life.” Declan begins to explain.

“Ianite had domain over Balance, deciding what was fair. My job was to enforce Justice, and right the injustices of the world.”

“Aianite’s strengths lied in physical enforcement while Ianite’s strengths lied in diplomacy. Ianite decided what was balanced and what was fair. Aianite enforced those beliefs” Declan pauses, thinking, “The story of Aianite’s fall, is not one of true victory. She was a casualty when the Darkness was first sealed away. Their enemy could not reign in terror, but Angrec had lost her dear daughter. Angrec didn’t want to lose her, and tried to resurrect her, using her sword as a conduit. It worked, in some way, but not the way she intended.”

“My soul and very quintessence was imbued into my sword. Without me physically there for my siblings, Ianite took over my domain, spreading herself thinner to take up both the mantle of Balance and Justice. Meanwhile, I was gifted to the Champions of Light, meant to be used in times of dire need. I.E. The Darkness’ return. But one of those Champions had lost me along the way, and I had faded from stories, becoming nothing more than a myth to most...”

“History is repeating itself,” Declan says suddenly, snapping Jordan back to attention, “The Darkness once again is threatening the Light, and a Goddess’ blood has been spilt. And now you’ve arrived. A new Champion of the Light.”

He looks up, into the trees, the light of the leaves dancing on his beard, “...A legend was created, during your absence. A man bearing a sword made of pure light would find the three, bring them back into the light, and eradicate the darkness that plagued the home he once knew for good, in his own time, a time too far back for anyone else to follow.”

Declan chuckles, “It’s more straightforward than most legends, but that doesn’t really matter.”

“What does the legend mean? That- The one part. ‘Find the three, bring them back into the light’ ?”

Declan takes a moment to respond to Jordan’s questions, looking back down, towards the ground.

“While you were gone, the three of them banded together, driving off the forces of the Darkness once again. Ianite led their armies, the devoted followers that you all had originally guided to the three of them. Dianite turned to the shadows, spying on the enemy to see what intel he and his followers could gather to give to his sister, creating disarray within the enemy’s forces. He always thrived in Chaos.”

“And Mianite?”

“...Mianite renounced his domain over Order. There was none anymore. Not when they’re at war. He had to take up the mantle of Light, in order to prevent the world from falling entirely. It made the most sense for him, of the three siblings, he was the one who most closely aligned with their dear mother. But the three of them weren’t enough by themselves. ”

“Mianite always was a mama’s boy. ...I can’t imagine how he felt when she died.”

Declan brings his hands together, tapping one outstretched finger, “Dianite has vanished completely, and nobody knows where he’s gone, not even his siblings. They believe that he is fine, and possibly went off the grid to better gather intel. ...He’s always been a little bit unpredictable, but they always worry he’ll get caught by the Darkness.”

He sticks out another finger, “The domain of Light is still new to young Mianite, and he’s inexperienced with it. Angrec could create tools and weapons that did incredible damage to the forces of the Dark. Mianite is still young, and he cannot create weapons of that same caliber of his late mother. He’s trying too hard to be what his mother was, and he can’t. He can never replace Angrec.”

Declan stops, turning to stand in Jordan’s path, forcing him to stop walking as well. He taps his third finger, speaking, “Your Goddess, Lady Ianite is spearheading the efforts to hold the Darkness back. Even as we speak, but… She is not her sister.”

“The Gods are divided, each of them too caught up in their own way of holding back the Darkness.” 

Declan breathes a deep sigh, placing a hand on Jordan’s shoulder, “They all need help Jordan, and that is the role you serve in all of this.”

[houseofhurricane]

ACOTAR Fic: Bloom & Bone (22/28) | Elain x Tamlin, Lucien x Vassa

Summary: Elain lies about a vision and winds up as the Night Court’s emissary to the Spring Court, trying to prevent the Dread Trove from falling into the wrong hands and wrestling with the gifts the Cauldron imparted when she was Made. Lucien, asked to join her, must contend with secrets about his mating bond. Meanwhile, Tamlin struggles to lead the Spring Court in the aftermath of the war with Hybern. And Vassa, the human queen in their midst, wrestles with the enchantment that turns her into a firebird by day, robbing her of the power of speech and human thought. Looming over all of them is uniquet peace in Prythian and the threat of Koschei, the death-god with unimaginable power. With powers both magical and monstrous, the quartet at the Spring Court will have to wrestle with their own natures and the evil that surrounds them. Will the struggle save their world, or doom it?

A/N: Vassa is changed forever. You can find all previous chapters here, or read Bloom & Bone on AO3. Thank you for reading! ❤️ If you'd like to get an early preview on the next chapter, follow me on Instagram at @house.of.hurricane.

There are legends before legends, which whisper of beings who preceded the Mother, who knew her and walked with her when the world was young. Though the human realms ostensibly rid themselves of the ancient tales, in Scythia such stories were part of a queen’s education, and watching the Archeron sisters prepare for their spell, their gowns whispering on the marble floors of the Spring Court, Vassa feels as if she is watching the old goddesses step out of the realm of myth and into Prythian, into the great hall of the Spring Court.

Feyre would be the Mother, watching over her sisters as they review the sequence and the calls to their magic. The natural leader, drawing people together and believing the best in them, seeing that spark that nobody else can discern. All through their preparations, she has taken Vassa’s hands within her own and squeezed them, telling her that they will be with her, that they will not abandon her. Whatever frustrations Vassa has had within the High Lady of the Night Court, they vanish in the face of this earnest care.

Nesta is the Crone, though even Vassa would be afraid to speak the words aloud to her. The one who has seen all things and borne them, made beauty out of pain and knows that even the deepest hurt is possible to survive. The one who looks death in the eye and does not blink. Even so, she’s tied her sword and the Dread Trove tight to her body, in case her magic is not enough, though she’s seen Elain eye the crown with fear and then shake herself, as if trying to drive the thought from her presence completely. But Nesta admits no fear on her face, only a fierce certainty, and Vassa finds herself a little less afraid in her presence.

Which leaves Elain as the Maiden. Months ago, Vassa would have given the title with derision, but now she realizes why the Maiden was worshipped so long ago: she saw a new world, dreamed it into life. And this is what her friend has become. No more the hapless tool of men who did not recognize her worth, Elain believed that this world could be a better one, that Tamlin could be a hero, that Lucien could find his place, that Vassa could be free of her curse.

Still, when she looks at Vassa, Elain’s brown eyes are worried, just this side of terrified, and Vassa feels all the warmth leave her body. In the space of moments, Elain is going to take her hand and rip her apart.

Her friend takes a step towards her, but Lucien enters the room and Elain changes course, studying the dimensions of the room, the wards that Feyre has painted on the floor in silver and gold. They are supposed to guard against Koschei’s magic, according to Lucien, although nobody can say with total certainty that he will be kept at bay. A small battalion of volunteer guards, led by Tamlin, surround the estate.

“You don’t have to do this,” Lucien says. “If you are afraid -- I will find another way. Without pain or transformation. So you can return to your people, have the life you always wanted.” She knows how deeply he means the words, which come out of him in little bursts, his fingers clutched around each other in a tangle. He has promised to watch over her, to make sure that she is safe. If she is being honest, she is not sure what he can do. Still, she cannot imagine arriving at this moment, this pain and death and whatever might lay beyond, without him.

“A queen should be courageous,” she tells him, lifting her chin.

“You are not only a queen, Vassa.”

There are a thousand words under those words, the kind of phrases that the poets of Scythia would declaim at banquets in praise of love and beauty. And yet all Vassa needs is that quick phrase from Lucien to remind her of herself. Who she is. Who she could be, if she does not perish.

“I will come back to you, Lucien. Even if the spell goes wrong. Even if the magic tears me to pieces. I will find my way back to you.”

She reaches out, heedless of the pain, to hold his face in her hands. The feel of his skin under her palms, his hair at her fingertips. The quick mind that works inside, where nobody can see. All of it provokes in her a deep, nearly overwhelming tenderness.

She loves him.

She cannot tell him now, not when the words will haunt him.

“I will take you back to Scythia.” His gaze is fierce on hers. “No matter what. You deserve to be in your country. With the people who love you best.”

Her eyes hot and blurred with tears, she presses her lips to his, pushing the pain away to savor the spice on his lips, the sip of whisky they’d shared as they’d readied themselves for this moment. His mouth opens against hers with a little groan.

She pulls away just before the pain overwhelms her, before she can let herself realize what it would mean, to lose him.

“Tell me you will be here with me,” Vassa says, once she’s caught her breath.

“You won’t be able to get rid of me,” Lucien says, and winks his russet eye.

When Vassa looks around, she realizes that the Archeron sisters have been watching her discreetly, even as they’ve conferred amongst themselves.

“Are you ready?” Elain asks, and Vassa is grateful for her warm wide-eyed gaze, the certainty that if she said no, Elain would wait a century to put her hands on Vassa.

Instead, she meets those deep brown eyes. She says “yes” loud enough that the words echo in the hall. The decree of a queen. Perhaps the last word she will ever speak as Queen of Scythia.

The Acheron sisters walk toward her, forming a triangle, surrounded by the wards and runes which gild the floor. Steps away, Lucien watches, his body taut, poised to strike.

With an indrawn breath, Elain reaches for her, and Vassa surrenders.

&

&

&

The pain rips and tears at Vassa, holding her in its grip with fire and stinging bolts of power, elements that are beyond this earth, beyond anything that she has ever experienced. The sensation is so overwhelming that she cannot tell whether she is screaming or whether her eyes are open, whether she fights it or is frozen to the spot. All she can do is will herself to breathe, to continue on through this vortex that rips her apart, steadily and then all at once. She can only hope that she still clings to Elain’s hands, the gentle press of her fingers that invited this apocalypse.

Suddenly, everything around her is thick darkness, a starless sky. She tries to move her hands, her legs, but there is nothing to move.

The pain is gone, and so is every other part of herself.

She thought that she would be lonely or frightened, but the absence of pain is such a welcome gift that Vassa finds herself enjoying the darkness, reveling in the sensation of nothing. She had not realized how much the curse had taken from her, day after day, until, now, left with nothing, she feels abundant.

There is a softening of the darkness. A hint of white light, a flickering of a silver flame. The barest whiff of jasmine. Then, brightening the darkness is a thread of gold, dazzling to Vassa’s vision. She feels the warmth of it gather her awareness into a central point, a caress against her skin that smells of citrus and sandalwood and the ozone scent after a lightning strike, a scent she knows better than her own.

The sound of a chord being plucked on a harp, a shimmering golden light, and the three Archeron sisters stand before her. On one side of the triangle, Nesta wears the mask of the Dread Trove, holds the harp in her hands. On the other side, Feyre holds out her palms to reveal a concentrated beam of white light, from which a rainbow emerges, thick with raw magic. And around Elain, in the center, there is a pillar of light that encircles her sisters. A small bone cupped in her palm, around which the light spills.

Behind her, formed from that first cord of golden light, Lucien appears.

Vassa does not know if this magic will work, or if this is a hallucination in the realm of the dead, but she will never stop being grateful for this one last look at him, illuminated in the golden light which smooths the worry from his face, only shows the working of his mind as he beholds her.

Although Vassa can feel the boundaries of herself, demarcated by the golden cord, she cannot move, cannot feel the air of this place against her skin, or suck air into her lungs.

Still, there is such hope in Lucien’s face.

I will come back to you, she thinks.

The words echo in this realm, a peal of bells.

Elain turns her head toward Lucien, a smile on her face, and her magic flares brighter.

Feyre extends her hands, and the white light becomes a rainbow that enters Vassa with a surge of power. She is pure possibility, a thousand eyes and hands, every magic that has ever existed.

Then she feels the pull of the golden cords, and the roar of possibility becomes a song inside her, a melody that is beautiful and haunting, a firebird queen ripped from her country, trapped by a lake until she was rescued by creatures she’d never known before, who became her best and dearest friends. Who showed her that she could become something else entirely. That she did not have to be the Queen of Scythia or the cursed firebird, but only Vassa, this small form in a dark expanse.

A peace that is nurtured by beauty, she thinks, the words cascading through the darkness, and now Elain grins directly at her, her warm eyes illuminated by the light of her power.

Nesta raises her hands, twists her wrists as she forms two fists.

As if she is daring the darkness to claim Vassa.

Then she opens her fists with a sudden gesture, and light explodes in the darkness.

Two bolts of silver flame fly towards her, landing in the center of her being.

She can feel her heart begin to beat, warmth spread through her body.

Her gasp of breath does not echo but sounds in the expanse.

This body, the collection of her self, feels so like and unlike the way she felt in those days when she was first made Queen of Scythia. So sure and capable, bursting with energy and promise. And yet she has never felt this vital, this at peace. The heart that beats in her chest could mark this same rhythm for a thousand years. She does not need to see her reflection, the arched ears or some new faerie grace, to know that the transformation has taken place. She feels the change in her veins, rushing through her, making her into a Vassa wholly like and unlike the human queen who existed only moments before.

She extends her arm, and a wind rises in a great gust, and the world is an intermingling of light and darkness, nowhere and everywhere at once.

&

&

&

When Vassa opens her eyes, she sees the ceiling of the great hall of the Spring Court, and then Lucien’s eyes, one filled with tears, and the other, his golden eye, constantly moving, as if it cannot believe that she is here before him.

“Did it work?” she asks, and instantly knows the answer. Her voice sounds different to her ears, more musical, as if in speech she can find only the most pleasing tones.

“You sent us back with your own power,” he tells her, his fingers tracing her face, tucking her hair behind her ears. “I should have known you would only come out of this stronger.”

“You’ll have to train me,” she says, trying her imperious voice, gladdened when it sounds more forceful than ever, though its effect on Lucien is unchanged. He rolls his eyes, can’t manage to hide his smile.

“Anything you require, Your Majesty.”

She doubts it will be so simple, but she allows him to inspect her without complaint, cup her shoulders and study her toes, run his hands up her silken skirts to the knee, cup her ankles with his long fingers. Now she can hear the slight hitch in his breath, smell a musk from his skin that might signal desire.

There is no pain at his touch, only pleasure and comfort. A wanting that coils below her belly. Whatever magic has been kindled inside her today, nothing about her feelings for Lucien has changed. Still, the space in the circle of his arms feels more like home than any place she’s ever known.

Even Scythia.

She does not know what to do with this knowledge, which seems more overwhelming than this new version of myself. Instead, she casts her eyes around the room.

Around her, the world is more vibrant than she’s ever seen it with human eyes, as if she were given the vision of the firebird while being allowed to remain inside her own mind. She studies Lucien’s hair, the endless variations of gold and red, until he pulls it from her fingers, apologizing with a kiss.

When she turns her head to look at this new landscape, Elain’s gown catches her attention. The floral embroidery is a jewel box of color and texture.

“Of course Lucien does a tiny amount of work and gets all the credit,” Nesta grumbles to Feyre, low enough that Vassa’s human ears wouldn’t have heard the remark.

“I can give you a thank you kiss if you’d like, Nesta,” she retorts from the floor, her arms still around Lucien’s neck. “I won’t forget who started my heart.”

As if summoned, the three sisters gather around her, Feyre with soft inquiries about how she feels and promises to help with her training, Nesta’s stern features quickly giving way to a brilliant smile, glad and triumphant, and Elain’s eyes passing over her wonderingly. When she reaches to squeeze Vassa’s shoulder, she hesitates for a moment, and so Vassa takes her hand in her own fingers, holding so tight to Elain that she can feel the bones below the skin and muscle, the pulse of each of their hearts.

“You remembered,” Elain says, her eyes bright with tears. She’s remembering the phrase Vassa summoned in the darkness, intoned by a thousand bells.

“It’s the legacy of the person who saved me.” Vassa does not tell her, might never be able to express, the way that phrase had strengthened her during her second captivity, when even the thought of Lucien was too painful. “Do you know how strong you are?”

Elain leans forward and wraps her arms around Vassa, so tight that Vassa can feel her friend’s tears as they fall against her neck.

“You are going to be the most excellent queen, but before you go back to Scythia, I’m going to take you to every world,” Elain whispers. “Lucien is going to be so jealous.”

“Lucien can use his tethering spell,” the male in question says, his voice full of longsuffering.

“Only if he behaves himself,” Vassa says, and then, even though she said nothing particularly funny, she and Elain can’t stop laughing, and then her sisters join in, and finally even Lucien begins to laugh, and though by now the night has swallowed Prythian, around Vassa there is nothing but light.

[notapaladin]

so say you’ll stay with me tonight (redux)

Hey, it’s ANOTHER fic I couldn’t leave alone because I wasn’t satisfied! This one fits the vibe I was going for better and is also like 2k words longer. In which Acatl has a bad day, but Teomitl walks him home and his night is so much better.

Original version here.

Also on AO3.

-

Tizoc is—regrettably—still Emperor today. Acatl’s trying very hard not to let it bother him, but it’s hard not to when the man has summoned all three High Priests and the master engineers to discuss his plans for the grand new renovation of the Great Temple currently underway. The renovation which, yes, is likely necessary, but not now. Not yet. It’s only been a year and a half since the plague. He meets Acamapichtli and Quenami’s gazes sidelong and knows they know it too.

Not that they say anything, of course. Cowards. Cowards and fools. Acatl shifts on his mat, calves aching, and grinds his teeth. (He wishes he were braver.)

They’re arrayed around a series of blueprints, some of them dating back to the very first iteration of the Great Temple. Wards and glyphs have been drawn in the corners of the later ones—the High Priests’ predecessors having planned ahead for their successors—but the oldest ones have no such guidelines. If those are damaged, they’ll have to use their best judgement. Or, more likely, the contents of the Temple archives which Quenami keeps under wards so heavy they give Acatl a nosebleed. The engineers don’t care about any of that; their job is solely to satisfy the Revered Speaker. One of them is currently leaning over a rendition of the current temple, gesturing to make his point. “Of course, my lord, if you wish the most dazzling effect for the end pieces it would be best to place the support beams for the underlying structure here and here, but...”

Tizoc’s eyes narrow. “But?”

“Ah. It may be less structurally sound. Not that it would collapse immediately, you understand, but in ten or fifteen years’ time...”

“Bah! I’ll handle it then. We can always remake it.”

Or you’ll leave it for your successor to handle? You’ll make Teomitl deal with this? His jaw tightens.

“As you wish, my lord. Now, that will require the scaffolding poles to be driven into the previous layer—yes, Acatl-tzin?”

He must have made an involuntary noise. Swallowing back the first three or four protestations that come to mind (there are so many wards written and carved into that layer which would have to be dismantled completely and the gods only know if they’re dependent on older ones, if even a single brick of Coyolxauhqui’s prison is exposed to moonlight all the hearts’ blood in the world won’t keep them safe), he says...

Nothing. He says nothing. Tizoc—he won’t distinguish the man with a -tzin, not anymore, not after what he did to Tlaloc’s clergy—is studying him like a particularly disgusting bug, and he thinks of his own priests and loses all his nerve. He shakes his head silently.

The engineers continue. Quenami, naturally, has plenty of suggestions. Yes, those dimensions for the new foundation are pleasing. Yes, of course there will be no problem procuring the limestone and basalt. Yes, it will be easy for us (this with a gloating look at Acamapichtli and Acatl that makes the High Priest of Tlaloc’s eyes go dark and furious and makes Acatl himself entertain vivid fantasies of strangulation) to weave the wards anew. There will be nothing to fear. All will know and glory to the name of Tizoc-tzin, who made the Temple great again.

And Tizoc preens. He knows nothing of wards or of magic beyond the most basic things they teach all noblemen’s children in the calmecac, and so he knows nothing of why everything he’s proposing is immensely dangerous for the safety of their world. He has never descended into the depths of the Temple to stand atop Coyolxauhqui’s prison and feel her hatred, her rage. He doesn’t care. He simply wants it expanded now, before anyone can somehow steal his glory—not that he says that, of course, but it shines greasily through in every word. Acatl tries very hard to let his voice wash over him without picking out specifics. That way lies only impotent fury, and they simply aren’t stable enough yet that he can risk drawing Tizoc’s ire. He may have Teomitl’s fondest regard, but Teomitl is still only Master of the House of Darts. Soon, he thinks. Soon.

“My lord, of course we can redo the steps down to the center as well, but...”

“Out with it.”

“Will we have enough sacrifices to remake the wards on them? They will need to be incised into the stone—”

Tizoc’s voice rises to a pitch that reminds him of a peccary with a chest cold. “You dare ask me that? Have we not won great victories? Have we not brought back dozens, hundreds of sacrifices already? Do you doubt the strength and valor of our armies?”

...Not soon enough.

He shifts again, allowing himself a brief grimace at the ache in his back and thighs. They’ve never been the same since his sojourn in the Heartlands. Every day he looks at Tizoc and thinks, I can’t believe I fought Itzpapalotl for your sake. But he did, and now they have a Revered Speaker who leads their warriors to be slaughtered and calls ir victory. He doubts whether Tizoc’s ever personally captured a prisoner in his life.

Teomitl could bring back more than enough captives, he thinks, if you only got out of his way and let him lead your army the way he’s supposed to. Between Teomitl and Neutemoc, he’s started to gain some secondhand knowledge of battle strategy, enough to understand that the relative failures of the campaigns under Tizoc’s reign are due in large part to the man’s own mix of paranoid micromanagement and reckless overconfidence. Teomitl’s not at all shy in voicing his opinions on it.

The engineer is sweating now. Rumors buzz like flies in the palace, and they say that the last person who publicly gainsaid the Revered Speaker simply disappeared. No official investigation was made, but that man’s widow had nevertheless been brave enough to contact Acatl. He didn’t find any magical residue, but of course that didn’t rule out foul play. They’d both known who the culprit was anyway. But this man is smarter or more cowardly, and so he lowers his head and says, “Never, my lord. They still sing of your latest campaign in the streets. It is merely that the reconsecration of the Great Temple is vital, and I wished to know whether you desired extra protection for the boundaries.”

If Tizoc was an intelligent man, he would say yes. The boundaries are still weak, terribly weak, due simply to his presence. Though they’ve been sewn up—thank the gods for Mihmatini—they’re far from impermeable. Acatl can feel them wiggle like a loose tooth if he presses too hard. And the Great Temple is their best and largest anchor with such a weak Revered Speaker on the throne. Until Teomitl is crowned, they need all the help they can get to keep the stars in the sky and She of the Silver Bells in chains.

Tizoc is not an intelligent man. He scoffs, shaking his head in a manner horribly reminiscent of Teomitl at his most arrogant. Except this is worse, because Teomitl has good qualities to make up for it. Tizoc has none. “That won’t be necessary. My High Priests will have it well in hand, won’t you?”

Quenami takes it upon himself to speak for them all. “Of course, my lord.”

Acatl remains silent. He can’t bear to look at Quenami just yet or he might snap, but when he turns his head he catches Acamapichtli’s eye and realizes he knows that expression. It’s the same one he almost certainly has on his own face. How dare he? After what Tizoc did to your clergy, and what he’s doing to the boundaries, he has the nerve to make our jobs even harder? And it will certainly be their jobs, because if Quenami bestirs himself for anything short of Coyolxauhqui physically manifesting on the Temple steps, Acatl will eat his own sandals. Without chili sauce.

Tizoc waves a hand. “You see? Proceed.”

The two engineers exchange looks before the man dubbed unofficial spokesman nods. “As you wish, my lord.”

&

It’s late by the time they get out of that meeting, and all he can think is that he does not want to spend one more second within the palace walls. He wants his own house, and his own mat, and his—

Well. He wants Teomitl. In general he doesn’t want to be alone, but in specific he wants Teomitl—wants to wrap his arms around him, hold him close, kiss that soft and smiling mouth. They haven’t made any promises or put words on what they are to each other. Teomitl’s optimism so far hasn’t extended itself to that, and Acatl isn’t sure he can be the first one to say it. But he knows his own heart well enough to tell how he feels. How he’s been feeling ever since that first day months ago, when Teomitl had turned back from that view of the city on his temple steps and smiled at him.

(Not, admittedly, that he’d said anything. Not then. It had taken them weeks of meeting for meals, of watching Teomitl patch up his relationship with Mihmatini, of nearly giving up—for surely he had no right to come between them. Of staring at his mouth and wondering what it might be like to kiss it. Had it not been for Teomitl showing up at his door the night before he left for his next campaign, he might still be wondering.)

His—lover? He supposes that’s the best word—is somewhere in the palace, but Acatl hasn’t seen him all day. This mess with the Great Temple has taken up all his time. He’s seriously debating the idea of going to look for him. Of finding him wherever he’s been spending his time, pulling him aside, telling him...

I want you.

I missed you.

Come home with me.

That idea makes his face heat. They’ve stolen plenty of time together, but never has Teomitl spent the night at his house. (He doesn’t count that time after Axayacatl’s death. He’d been asleep for that, and also still so deep in denial that he wouldn’t have been able to find his way out with a tall ladder and a map.) To do that now would be...well. His eyes have been opened, and he’s fairly sure they wouldn’t be spending too much time sleeping.

“Acatl!”

He jolts; he’s been so lost in thought that he didn’t even hear those impatient, beloved footfalls approaching from behind. The hallway is empty, so he doesn’t have that excuse either. Something in his heart clicks and settles into warm contentment as he turns around. “Teomitl,” he says, and adds—because it’s the truth—“I was just thinking about you.”

Teomitl doesn’t quite blush, but his smile goes measurably warmer around the edges. He looks good all in red and white, with gold earflares and a simple gold lip plug that draws Acatl’s eye to the curve of his lower lip. He’s loosened his hair and taken out the feather ornaments, so he must have finished his own work. “And I was just looking for you. Are you all done for the day?”

“...Unless some emergency beckons, yes.” He really hopes it doesn’t. Duality, just give him one night.

“I’m glad.” And Teomitl draws closer, slowing his pace to match. “Heading home?”

He nods, and then takes a breath. There’s no reason for him to be nervous, but asking for it while knowing what he wants makes his heart beat a little faster anyway. “Walk with me?”

Teomitl beams, and somehow he falls even deeper in love. “Of course.”

They’re quiet for a while. He knows he could break the silence; now that he’s fallen into the habit of speaking his feelings out loud with Teomitl, his lover always has an understanding ear to lend when he needs to unleash his frustrations. It had been a pleasant surprise to curse Quenami’s name and have Teomitl spare no vitriol in his own assessment of the man’s character. But it feels good just to walk side by side with him, and he doesn’t want to ruin the mood. Besides, walls in the palace always have ears, and he’s sure it would get back to Tizoc somehow. Instead he focuses on the warmth of Teomitl’s body next to his, almost close enough to touch. The scent of lingering copal incense and sun-warmed skin reaches him and he thinks, Oh, this is nice. (It could be nicer. They could be holding hands. But they have to be discreet, still, and so he can’t risk it.)

(Gods, he wants to see Teomitl crowned.)

It’s not until they leave the palace that Teomitl says, “So. Tizoc’s still going ahead with his...refurbishment.”

Acatl grimaces. “Indeed.”

“Didn’t listen to any of the reasons why he shouldn’t.”

He bites his lip. “I...”

Teomitl turns to look at him, frowning, but then understanding dawns. “...I see.” He looks like he wants to say something else—probably something angry—but all he does is sigh and shake his head. “I tried too, and he brushed me aside. He’s only thinking of his legacy and not what it might do to us. It’s probably for the best that you didn’t say anything; he’d think we were conspiring against him.”

Acatl considers this. Looks at him.

Teomitl looks mildly offended. “I did say I’d give him time.”

“You did.” And he slides his fingers against the back of Teomitl’s hand to show he’s not upset, nor holding a grudge. After all, he’d meant it when he’d said there was no need for apologies between them. It has the desired effect, because Teomitl’s eyes grow warm and bright.

And then he leans in and murmurs, “Unless you’d rather I not.”

“Teomitl,” he huffs, but he can’t be mad. Teomitl’s wearing the half-grin that means he’s not entirely serious—that says yes, he might still kill his own brother on Acatl’s orders, but it’s far more important to him that Acatl has asked him not to. Acatl trusts that now. “Please don’t.” After a moment’s thought he adds, “At least warn me and Mihmatini first when you do.”

Now Teomitl’s really smiling, though it’s somewhat rueful. “I wouldn’t dream of doing anything else. You know that.”

“I do.” He angles himself as he walks so that their arms brush and lets the tenderness he feels color his voice. I know you, my heart. And he’s suddenly more than mildly annoyed that they’re still in the Sacred Precinct, because the way Teomitl is looking at him with soft, shining eyes desperately makes him wish he could kiss him right here. If he were braver, he thinks he might even risk it; he knows where the shadows of the temple gates will hide them from prying eyes, and he knows how sweetly Teomitl presses against him when he’s pleased.

Though he says nothing, it must show on his face, because Teomitl takes advantage of the camouflage provided by their billowing cloaks to firmly lace their fingers together. His voice lowers, rich with promise. “We should fetch dinner before we reach your place. Unless you want to cook? I hope you do; we’ll need our energy.”

He knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that he’s blushing. “I. Um.”

“Well?”

“...I leave a pot of stew on the hearth in the morning.” It’s a habit he’s gotten into since Tizoc’s begun these building preparations; they often go long enough that he’s ravenous by the time they’re over, and utterly unwilling to expend any more brainpower on exactly how to fill his stomach. It’s hard to overcook stew, after all. “Though I don’t know if it will be to your taste—”

Teomitl holds up a hand to stop him. “Acatl. You know my feelings on your cooking.”

He snorts, shaking his head. They’ve had this conversation before. “I still think you flatter me far too much.”

Teomitl pokes his side teasingly. “And I think you underestimate the effects of a meal made with care and devotion by a man I trust above all others in the Empire.” Acatl’s heart skips a beat, so of course the moment’s ruined when he follows it up with, “I’d eat what you made if it came out as charcoal.”

“Well, hopefully this won’t be that bad.” Honesty compels him to add, “It may be a bit spicy. I wasn’t expecting company when I put it all together.”

Teomitl huffs, “I can handle spice!”

He makes a mental note to serve plenty of flatbread on the side.

&

It’s not far to his home, and the stew—mostly beans and corn, with a long-simmering and very tough haunch of dog from an earlier sacrifice thrown in to cook until tender—is just about done when he takes it off the fire. Teomitl clearly wants to help, but after a moment’s searching forces him to realize he has no idea where Acatl keeps anything, he takes himself out to the courtyard with a terribly put-upon sigh. It’s adorable. Acatl wants to kiss his cheek.

So when he sets down their bowls, he does. Teomitl promptly blushes, which is so endearing that Acatl has to kiss him again. On the mouth this time, which turns long and lingering before Teomitl slowly pulls away. “Mmhm. Not that I’m complaining, but what prompted this?”

He really only needs one hand to eat, so he’s free to settle the other at Teomitl’s waist and revel in the way the man nestles against his side. (It’s no longer surprising that Teomitl is so tactile, but it will always—always—be delightful.) “I missed you.”

Because he had. Every time Tizoc had opened his mouth, he’d thought you are unworthy of your crown. Every time Quenami had worn that supercilious smirk of his, he’d thought Teomitl would never let you get away with that. He’d felt himself alone, and he’d wanted his lover by his side. Now that he is, there’s something going soft and warm in Acatl’s chest. They’d definitely be kissing again if it wasn’t for the stew, which he knows won’t be nearly as good cold.

Teomitl presses a kiss to his cheek, which makes him blush in turn, but then he’s applying himself to his dinner. Acatl waits as he takes the first spoonful.

To give him credit, his beloved doesn’t flinch. But he does turn red, and when Acatl hands him a piece of plain flatbread he shoves it into his mouth as though his life depends on it. When he can talk again, his voice is a little rough. “That’s—not bad.” And then, ruefully, “I should have expected that.”

“Mm.” He thinks briefly of seeing whether there’s anything else he could serve, but he knows Teomitl will turn it down. Even now, his lover thinks his own limits are mere suggestions.

It’s a quiet meal. Teomitl settles more firmly against him as they eat, one hand resting lightly on his thigh, and the promise of it makes him shiver. I won’t be suggesting he go home tonight, he thinks, and knows it for the truth. The silence between them feels good—feels comfortable—but though he doesn’t want to spoil it, there’s something he knows he has to say.

The sun is setting, bathing them in twilight. Their bowls are scraped clean, even Teomitl’s. (With the aid, Acatl can’t help but notice, of several cups of water and all of the flatbread.) Teomitl himself is resting his head on his shoulder, looking utterly content with his lot in life. Warm, callused fingers are tracing slow circles on his thigh. Even the air feels peaceful, with just enough of a breeze to keep them cool but not enough to raise the dust. Acatl takes a deep breath and realizes he’s not afraid. Maybe he should be—maybe this is too much, he’s moving too quickly—but he isn’t. Not with his man by his side. Haven’t they come this far?

“I love you,” he whispers, and it comes out so quietly that at first he doesn’t think Teomitl’s heard him. But then it must sink in, because Teomitl’s muscles tense, his eyes widen, and Acatl has a miniature eternity to think Oh, fuck. He’s wrong. This is too fast. Teomitl isn’t that serious about him. Hastily, he opens his mouth, scrambling to take it back.

Then Teomitl smiles, soft as the dawn, and breathes, “I love you, too.”

Oh. Oh, thank the Duality.

Teomitl turns towards him and they’re kissing again, and this time it’s much less sweet. There is some restraint—while Teomitl’s not precisely shy, he’s well aware of Acatl’s vows and has never pressed them—but it’s the easiest and most natural thing in the world to be tumbled backwards on the mat, to have strong hands buried in his hair, to feel the heat and the faintest suggestion of teeth in each press of Teomitl’s mouth down his throat. And yet, for all that, there’s still a gentleness to it, because he’s loved. And better than that, he’s respected. If he asked Teomitl to stop, he knows he would.

He doesn’t think he’s going to ask Teomitl to stop. He arches into another kiss, letting his head fall back, and breathes, “We should...nnh...” Words fail him, because there’s a featherlight press of lips to his collarbone and it’s a lovely little spark of pleasure.

“Mm?”

He shivers in anticipation at the warmth in his lover’s eyes. No, there’s no hesitation in his mind anymore. “Let’s go inside.” He swallows. “If you want to continue this.”

Teomitl jerks back a little to look at him. For an instant he looks surprised, but then the smile on his face turns teasing. “Oh, I do. But it’s getting late, and you should sleep.”

He’s suddenly very, very aware of his lover’s weight on him—of the way they’re touching, pressed together from very nearly the waist downwards, and how the building heat in his blood is moving with purpose. He shifts, rolling his hips a fraction, and feels Teomitl twitch in response. “I’m not that tired.”

Teomitl grins, all wicked hope. “Want me to help you with that?”

He sucks in a breath. I took vows is his first thought. But it’s followed fast by a second, stronger one—I don’t care. So instead of answering in words, he pulls Teomitl into a hungry, searing kiss.

He’s honestly not entirely clear on how they manage to get inside. While he’d be glad to kiss Teomitl forever, his lover is the sort of impatient man who comes up with plans; they’re barely on his sleeping mat before Teomitl’s scattering their cloaks and working at the knots to their loincloths, letting his hands roam shamelessly over every inch of bare skin. Acatl’s not idle; though he might kill something for a light so he could at least see the unveiled glory that is his naked lover, he’s free to map out the lay of the land with his palms.

And gods, but Teomitl melts into each touch. If he were the jaguar Acatl sometimes thinks of him as, he might even be purring. Experimentally he draws his nails down Teomitl’s back, and is rewarded when he moans into their kiss. “Mmm...”

Then there are warm, callused fingers trailing down his chest and he can’t quite muster up the ability to feel smug anymore when they find one nipple and start toying with it. “Oh, gods,” he gasps—he hadn’t thought he’d be sensitive there, but Teomitl is very effectively proving him wrong. He’s been half-hard since the moment his loincloth hit the floor, and Teomitl’s hands are getting him the rest of the way there. It’s even better when Teomitl moves to straddle him, half so they can grind against each other and half so his free hand can skate down the plane of his stomach.

Their eyes meet, and Acatl feels himself flush at the look in Teomitl’s eyes, the one that says without words that there’s nowhere else he’d rather be. When he speaks, his voice is soft. “You feel perfect.”

“Flatterer...mmm...” That one hand is sliding lower, shameless, and he wriggles a little to press their cocks together. He wishes again for light, but smoothing his hands over the solid muscles of his lover’s back and down over his frankly glorious ass will have to do. Teomitl must enjoy it, because his whole body trembles—and then Acatl’s being kissed, long and slow, and he arches with an utterly wanton groan.

“You are incredible,” Teomitl breathes when they pull apart. “Tell me how you want me to please you.” Acatl has to blush a little at that—it’s hardly as though Teomitl ought to need instruction, when he’s so hard against him and surely that presents a few obvious ideas—but well, he is asking. He’s owed an answer.

Still, saying it out loud makes him squirm. His skin feels like it’s on fire as he mutters, “...Touch me.” He rolls his hips, and his lover’s eyes spark fire. He doesn’t need to say anything else; Teomitl takes him in hand, and the friction that had been merely good builds into something he can fall into, something that sends pleasure coiling through his veins.

“Like this?” Teomitl’s setting a steady pace, fingers rippling; he needs his other hand to brace himself on the mat, bringing him in range to punctuate his words with a hungry mouth on Acatl’s collarbone. It scatters Acatl’s thoughts to the four winds; helpless, he scratches down Teomitl’s back again, and this time the vibrations of his lover’s moan sinks into his skin.

More, he thinks, and yes. He barely recognizes his own voice when it leaves his mouth. “Nngh, yes—no, wait, wait, I want to—” It’s not a want but a physical need, bone-deep, that has him working his hand between them to wrap around both their cocks at once. Teomitl’s roughly the same size but a little thicker, all rock-hard heat under his palm, and when he squeezes it pulls the most amazingly wrecked noise out of him.

“Oh,” Teomitl gasps. In the darkness, his eyes are wide with stunned hunger; his hips shudder, rocking in unconscious little circles like he’s not sure whether he should be letting Acatl set the pace or not.

“Like this,” he pants. All that stroking had been pleasurable, yes, but he needs to feel it properly when Teomitl falls apart against him, under his hand, sliding past his own cock with each thrust. He wonders, briefly, how it would feel with Teomitl inside him—but then Teomitl’s hand leaves his shaft to slide lower, and the first purposeful caress to his balls makes him whine.

Teomitl’s smug, “Hah,” comes out as more of a gasp than anything else. Even the attempt at a self-satisfied smirk is erased in the next instant because Acatl leans in to nip at his throat and grinds his hips up, a firm stroke making their cocks pulse in his grip, and his head falls back with a shaky cry. “Gods, keep doing that—”

Acatl hums against his lover’s skin. “Is this how you like it?” he breathes. There aren’t words for the feelings coursing through him, lust and the mounting lightning of his own pleasure mingling with a fierce joy that he’s the one doing this for Teomitl, that it’s his mouth and hands that are pulling such sweet sounds from his lover. A little more, he thinks. A little more. I need to see your face.

He gets his wish a moment later; no doubt Teomitl has a warrior’s stamina, but it can’t last against the way Acatl’s handling him. He gets increasingly vocal as he nears his peak, wordless cries ringing in the night air as Acatl bites at his shoulder. When he mouths a red mark into the thin skin at his collarbone, Teomitl nearly sobs. “Yes—yes, gods, Acatl—” Then he’s coming, hard and fast and all at once, spilling himself over their hands and bodies, and his voice cracks into a desperate keen.

It’s perfect. He’s still unfulfilled, but he almost doesn’t care. Almost. After a moment where Teomitl’s catching his breath and he thinks he might have to seek his own pleasure, his lover is grinning hot and hungrily down at him and oh gods, now that he’s not distracted by what Acatl’s doing with him he proves merciless. He settles back on his haunches, freeing both hands to squeeze and stroke and pump Acatl’s throbbing flesh, and all Acatl can do is take it. “Nnnh, Teomitl, please...”

“That’s it,” Teomitl breathes, and if it wasn’t so awestruck it would be a royal order. It feels like a royal order,  like the words of the gods themselves when he growls, “Come for me, Acatl-tzin.”

He does. He can’t do anything else. It’s shattering knife-edge pleasure that pulls all his thoughts out of his head; for a small eternity, he can’t even feel his own limbs, lost in the white-hot spasms of his own release. Awareness filters back in slowly; there’s Teomitl slowly petting his thighs, there’s his hands settling at his lover’s hips. And there, shining in the darkness, is Teomitl’s tender gaze.

“...Duality,” he manages breathlessly. I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve this, but thank You. Thank You for this gift.

“We made a mess,” Teomitl murmurs. With a downright wicked smirk, he drags his fingers through it and slowly licks them clean.

Spent as he is, it still makes Acatl’s cock twitch. He has to close his eyes lest he do something that...well, something that seems like a very good idea, to be honest, but his body is letting him know he’d regret it later. He’s not that young anymore. “Teomitl.”

“You taste good.” It’s almost—almost—innocent, but then Teomitl does it again and that’s not innocent at all.

He draws in a shuddering breath. “I need to recover, damn you. Give me a moment before you do things like that!”

“I just wanted to clean us up, but you’re right.” Teomitl kisses him again, slowly, and he can taste himself on his lips. “I won’t tease, love.”

Love. He smiles at that, feeling his face warm. “You’d better not, after being so concerned about my sleep schedule.” It comes out as more of a mumble than anything else; he’s forgotten how draining orgasms can be, especially on a full stomach after a long day. Sleep really is sounding very tempting.

“Mmm.” It’s a warm, utterly contented hum. Even when Teomitl pulls away to clean them both up properly with a cotton towel, he doesn’t go far; indeed, the cleanup itself is slow and tender and interspersed with long, gentle kisses.

Acatl responds as best he can, but he really is very tired. When Teomitl slides his arms around him, it’s all he can do to nuzzle into his chest. “Mmhm.” He feels boneless. Weightless. Teomitl is stroking his hair, and he never wants it to stop. “Teomitl...”

Teomitl’s arms loosen. “I...” he begins.

He knows what Teomitl’s going to say—I should go, I shouldn’t be here in the morning. He knows it would be a good and prudent idea. He also knows he’s not going to let that happen. Not after the night they’ve shared; not after the love they’ve shared. “Stay,” he says.

Teomitl stays.