#khleo the barhand

[the-melting-world]

Entourage

~ In which a young athelete and a handsome chaperone exchange a few words at a party...

Music: “Uniform” by Bloc Party

Khleo x Bakri

~ 1.2k words

Bakri and Theo belong to @landsofnayir. Thank you for letting me borrow them for the fic!

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Summer of 1922. Long Island Sound, West 

Khlee von Heine found themself circling the poolside of yet another large house party in West Egg. Extravagant, but casual. Unique, but quite typical if you were among the chosen ones. Boring, but bound to be recorded in the morning papers.

Sport was Khlee’s ticket into these parties whether they liked it or not. If they wanted to keep their boxing gloves on – all that rich silk that went into their live fight uniforms, not to mention the well kept gym for their ritual spar – there were certain expectations that needed to be met.

Attend these nights in the labyrinthine lake houses when invited. Smile. Flirt. Drink. Be merry, Khlee, you’re on your way to becoming a household name. 

You’re on the radio. They want to see your face.

They wanted to put a personality to their imaginations while craning around the speakers listening in on Khlee's fights.

It wasn’t all bad, these evenings spent among the upper echelon, Khlee supposed. The boxer got to gaze at the trees and the big, blue water. The trees, by God, were enormous. Hard to imagine that this was not all that far from Manhattan. The irony hit stronger than the bootlegged alcohol – folks were far more authentic in Khlee’s side of Harlem compared to the company kept in these lush, manicured forests. 

Out here in West Egg, there was nothing more artificial than all the buildings and streets and concrete combined besides the people. If you wanted real trees, and real drink, and real china, and real crystal glasses, it came with a price tag. There had to be a price these days. 

Khlee took a sip from the fine drink handed to them, anchoring themself in the shadows of the darkest green silhouettes that castled the property of the Great Jay Gatsby. 

“You’ve met Gatsby. Certainly, you have by now. Tell us what he’s like, Khlee. They hardly say anything in the papers.”

Clearing their throat, they said, “Can’t say I have. No.”

The man of the hour. Fake or hiding like the rest of this company. Whether thrill-chasing, drinking, or dancing under the lights in this hidden island of bombastic elites – that’s who Jay Gatbsy was. Khlee was sure of it.

It wasn’t hard to imagine because even the humble boxer was not who they said they were. Not entirely at least. 

But in crisp, straight-legged cream fabrics and smart buttons and the right shoes, who would know the difference? No one questioned the high rasp in their voice or their general unease when swamped by the visiting fraternities or the young uniformed naval officers. Always wanting to crowd and shake hands, clap the athlete’s back, and breathe their boozey, hot-blooded breath in Khlee’s face as they congratulated them on their last fight.

Smile. Flirt. Drink. Be merry.

You’re on the radio, by God!

Khlee set aside the empty glass before someone else bumped into them and made them drop it in the pool.

More guests had arrived. The warm bodies crowded closer together, sweaty and wine-blushed; the trees felt farther away. 

Movie starlets filed in. Tall and beaming and gorgeous, yes. Khlee paused to have a look at them. Sweeping in with their entourages, coattails and fringes and sparkling fabrics dragging behind them. Gowns that were only meant to be worn once for sure. 

Names came with the faces, popping off in Khlee’s head in automation. 

Tazian.

Armenian old money. An heiress? Khlee had seen her before. Life of the party – she took that role for herself the moment she walked in. As if it already belonged to her. And she didn’t have to share it precisely because it was hers, but she did anyway. This Armenian princess dusted down in red gem finery was more than generous with her vivacity. Those shimmering, shifting reds brought gifts and unforgettable smiles.

To the naked eye, the Tazian socialite’s entourage blended seamlessly into the background. But Khlee, who had eyes sharp enough to appreciate the green in the black umbrella foliage haunting the manor, knew exactly which of the entourage’s company they wanted to keep that evening.

“Wie geht es dir?” Khlee said, so polite like their Papa had taught them. And speaking as clearly as they could.

The suited man-of-sorts occupying the black iron bench did not look back. Though he replied without thinking.

“Es geht.”

It goes.

He spoke in the northern, less foggy dialect than the boxer was used to. Khlee felt the sentiment under those words.

It is a night and I am here. This is my work.

Khlee sat down, thought about offering the other a drink when they noticed that he was holding onto the Tazian heiress’s gloves. 

“Arbeit oder Spiel?” Khlee asked gently, making way for some kind of conversation.

Finally, the bodyguard turned, his wide earrings catching light like the champagne in the flutes spread atop every flat surface. Recognition flickered in his brown, distorted eyes.

“Khlee von Heine,” he said, his tone shifting out of the cold greeting from before.

All Khlee knew about Tazian’s chaperone was that he came from Germany, and before that, Turkey. At least that’s the direction the West Egg gossip had taken anyway. 

“Von Heine,” he said again, mangling the gloves instead of sticking his hand out for Khlee to shake. “You were in the papers.” He swallowed. “And on the radio.”

Khlee leaned back a little, towards him a little too.

“Do you box?”

Not what is your name. Nor do you know Gatsby.

But rather, Do you play my game? Can we play together sometime? Can we box?

Because he too was built strongly. Like Khlee, he was layered in his movements. He was careful. He was acting accordingly. Not in an off-duty naval officer sort of way. Not remotely echoing the chaps straight off the collegiate polo team rosters. 

The chaperone told Khlee that he worked a lot, but indeed yes, he wasn’t a stranger to the boxing ring. In fact, his brother had opened his own gym in the city. 

Khlee’s body language grew more relaxed. Another crystal of champagne found its way into their grasp. The man-of-sort’s name eventually bubbled to the surface of their conversation.

Bakri. 

The two guests seesawed between Deutsch and English. They saw eye to eye. They spoke as equals. 

“You’re like me,” Khlee said. With the same plainness that they asked for sport. “Living and hiding.”

Khlee looked up at the trees as they said it. At the undersides of the authentic, natural world spared only for the rich and famous and fakest. Sharing the burden – the price of it – with Bakri now. With Bakri later, they hoped. Outside of these suits one day, Khlee dared to think. In the ring, between the ropes. In the dark, somewhere plain and utilitarian. Or somewhere fine and decorated. It didn’t matter.

The weight, it was still there, by God. It was.

But Khlee’s shoulders felt comparably lighter with Bakri there sharing that marble bench with them by the poolside.

You’re like me.

Bakri thought for a moment, his eyes studying Khlee’s champagne glass. Then trailing up the boxer’s pale cream suit, drifting about their neckline towards features too strong and charming to ignore.

Bakri was gazing up at the trees now too, the very beginnings of a crooked smile forming there on his face. Unhidden.

“Ja,” he said, “bin ich.”

[the-melting-world]

💥💫DYNAMIGHT!KHLEO HELL YEAHHHH💥🌈💥💞🌈💥💞💫AHHHH YOU'RE WELCOME!💥💫💥🌈💥💞🌈💥💞💫 YOU CAN BORROW THEM ANYTIME 😭😭😭😭

Khleo as Ground Zero Dynamight from My Hero Academia! The magatama beads are so amazingly character-appropriate for her, thank you to @the-melting-world for letting me borrow them!

[atypicalacademic]

Precipice

(A/N: Happy Birthday, Coco! Here are some fiesty felines being somft for the ocassion.)

Words: 2k

Balam Maitreya x Khlee von Heine from @asras3rdeye

Warnings: smoking, mild drug use

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Strength (Upright): Courage, Persuasion, Inner Calm, Compassion

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Swinging her legs back and forth over the dark water, Balam leaned back against the wide stone rail of the bridge she was perched on, twisting her chillum in one hand, before bringing it to her lips. The herbed smoke dissolved into her breath, filling her with its pleasant, drifting slow buzz. Aaromal’s smooth weight coiled around her shoulders, the cobra’s bright eyes scanning the near empty street for intruders.  

Is it time to go back? 

Balam shrugged, shook her head. 

Alright. 

Her anklets and bangles clinked as she shifted, adjusting the mess of her shawls she’d wrapped around herself, though they weren’t much of a cover against the cold night breeze. Absently, she touched the spot on her shoulder where a bite mark had faded back into the dark brown of her skin. She’d felt over it before, remembering the teeth that sank into her skin, the strong arms that held her in her place still until her anger had no choice but to dissolve into tears. 

Volatile. She’d been called it, plenty of times before, enough for it to prickle just beneath her skin, chafe at her like sandpaper whenever her emotions did what they did, got ahead of her and showed themselves before she could stop them. Balam wasn’t delicate- she didn’t know to be delicate, didn’t know to be quiet, either. She’d always thought it was unfair that she wanted to be treated gently when she moved with such cacophony. 

Balei. 

Maybe she could stay here till the sun came up, and make her way back- maybe it’d lull her to sleep, even, the smoke and the stars and then the sunrise, trick her into believing that she deserved it. 

Maybe- 

“Hey, Tiger.” The familiar voice cut through her haze, solid as a handrail to hold on to.  

Tiger. 

She was almost a little embarrassed of how quick she was to smile. “Fancy seeing you here, Firecat.” 

Khleo laughed. They were still in uniform, thick calves cased in brown boots, and their sleeves rolled up, bouncy curls mussed at the day’s end, their eyes trained on Balam with the same flashing intensity as when they had her beneath them, back to the floor and her heart in her throat. 

The thought made Balam sit up straighter, tilt her head, and flutter her lashes hopefully.  

Taking the cue, Aaromal slithered away to coil around a streetlamp.  

They made a move as though to reach out to her, but instead, they curled back their fingers, let their arm fall back to their side. Before Balam could say anything else, Khleo swung their legs over the wall, and climbed up to sit beside her.  

“You look dead on your feet, cub.”  

“Um.” Balam blinked, entirely distracted by their proximity, the flutter of that nickname, the subtle flex of Khleo’s muscles, and the way their thigh brushed against hers. She wondered if it was the mellow high that made her so acutely, achingly aware of where their skin met hers, or whether it was Khleo themself, close enough so she could pick out every freckle scattered over their skin, close enough that every thought in her mind was replaced with nothing but daisies and the way they taste against her tongue. “L-long day.” She choked out, realizing that the barhand was still waiting for an answer.  

They raised an eyebrow. “And here you go making it longer than it needs to be.” Balam laid aside her chillum, about to dispense with conversation to climb into their lap when they caught her arm, biting back a laugh at the way she squirmed impatiently.  

Bringing her arm closer to themself, Khleo studied the black-and-blue ink stains on Balam palm and beneath her nails, and the way her fingers were curled and tight, as though she couldn’t quite straighten them.  

They pressed the pads of their fingers against her palm, and Balam winced. Khleo huffed. “Can’t do anything without driving yourself to the ground, can you?” They drew her hand to their lap, rubbing firm circles over the knotted muscles there. 

Balam looked away, swallowing. If she looked at them, she knew that the comfort of that pressure would make her cry. Again. Volatile. “I can-” 

“Don’t like your job?” 

“Of course I do.” She frowned. 

“Thought so.” Khleo hummed. “You like it too much, then.” 

Balam tried, half-heartedly, to draw her hand away, but Khleo held it in place, bringing her even closer in the process. She gasped, lightheaded, wanting to breathe the mess of her emotions against Khleo’s mouth. 

 She also wanted to affect indignance, assure them that she only liked it a normal amount, thank you very much, but everything wounded mixed with the aftertaste of smoke and the buzz in her head and bled into her eyes and her voice like it always, always did. 

“You shouldn’t be surprised to know that I do everything too much, Khlee.” 

Khleo frowned, but said nothing for a while, focusing instead on massaging up Balam’s palm to her wrist, and then to her arm. The coiled tension in her muscles eased, and Balam sniffled, wondering, not for the first time that night, if she’d be easier to care for if she were harder to know.  

But the touch against her arm was nothing but strong and grounding, and Balam found it hard to believe that she’d said too much, or upset them at all.  

“I don’t care about that, you know.” Khleo said, finally, their voice a little hoarse, as though they’d been trying to find it. “How much you do what you do, or-” They shrugged. “But you won’t learn to rest till you learn how to stop, Tiger.” 

Balam sighed, her heart aching, aching at the sound of their concern, an ocean away from the tired dismissal she was accustomed to. Not stop, but rest- and something in her splintered again at thought that she neither knew to do one nor the other. 

“I can’t, though.” She confessed, glowering at the rippling water far beneath them. “I can’t do that.” 

Khleo nodded, as though to themself, as though they’d been expecting her to say just that. “Why?” They held her gaze, pinning her there with their eyes so she couldn’t look away. “What happens if you do?” 

I vanish. 

I lose. 

I’m nothing. 

They get to me. 

“It’s not-um-” Her bangles clinked as she ran her hand through her hair, her face heating up under Khleo’s level look. “It’s not right. It’s not-” She whispered. “It’s not safe-” 

Khleo watched her for a moment longer, and carefully, without much of the challenge from back at the bar’s basement, caught both her wrists. Flushing, Balam broke off, forgetting to struggle before the barhand had her on her back against the stone. Khleo hovered over her, their full lips close enough to hers that she could reach up for a kiss, but Balam found that she couldn’t, light from another kind of high, her skin buzzing as the strength nearly left her arms. “How about now?” 

Balam made a sound at the back of her throat, halfway between a purr and a whine. She wanted them to drop their weight against her thighs, close around her until she couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. 

Abruptly, Khleo let go of her arms, and Balam lifted up off the stone to reach for them again- “Wait-” 

When did she start to reach out to be restrained? 

Khleo took one look at Balam’s wide, teary black eyes, her shawls fluttering in the night breeze, blazing with color, her dark brown skin speckled with tattoos and the beseeching part of her lips. Clenching their fists to stop themself from shivering, they pulled her into their arms, tangling their hands in her shawls and letting her head fall against their chest.  

Balam shuddered in their hold, and they soothed her with a hand, carding through her curly black hair. All at once, she felt the fatigue slam into her, her knife-sharp, perpetually-plucked instincts dulled in the strength of their embrace, and she wilted, whimpering quietly into the fabric of their shirt. 

“Is that better?” They smoothed a hand down her back. 

Balam nodded.  

She didn’t know what to call it, this place of surrender so removed from humiliation that she never felt the need to lash out at it, this pleasant flooding of her senses that nipped at her heels long after it left her, this- this clouded relief she’d known at the basement of the bar that had her drifting and swaying for the whole week since she’d felt it first- 

She wasn’t used to it, hadn’t fully learnt to trust what it does, but- 

Better was a good word to call it. It was better. 

Because she knew, a little, of what it meant, that strength, that hold, the ease with which they could pin her down. I could take you. I could take you. You can be whatever you want, and I could take you. 

And oh, gods, that was better. 

Balam cupped their face when they finally let her go, feasting on the warmth of their cheeks and the catch in their breath as her shining black eyes took them in from top to toe. “Khleo, I-” 

The overcast skies murmured only a brief warning, before the dark clouds dissipated into a light rain.  

Balam and Khleo stayed where they were, barely noticing it for a moment, before Balam felt the cold fingers of the water dampen the edges of her shawls.  

She smiled to herself, and before the barhand could draw away, she undid the driest of her shawls and draped it over Khleo and herself- a thin barrier, but a barrier nonetheless, against the rain. 

It covered their heads so all they could see was each other beneath that makeshift canopy of brilliant magenta fabric, the sandalwood scent of Balam’s perfume heady and inviting in the air between them. 

Batting her black lashes, Balam held up her hand before Khleo could kiss her. “I’ve promised you something, haven’t I?” She drew magic to her fingertips- conjuring wasn’t her biggest strength, but it came easily enough when she tried, calling to her mind the soft crush of petals and the scent and taste of wildflowers. 

Khleo startled as thin air came alive between Balam’s fingertips, twisting into color, then shape, then petals, one by one by one, and then all at once, a clump of fresh, snow-drop white daisies falling into her palm. With a wide, brilliant grin, Balam caught the flowers and tucked them into Khleo’s fluffy, golden-brown curls, letting her hand linger tenderly at their flushed, freckled cheek. “Look at you, Firecat.” She whispered. “You’re lovely.” 

“Balam-” 

She kissed them, letting go of the shawl to press up against them, her back to the rain and her thighs straddling their lap, her pierced tongue tracing over their lips and teeth, gasping eagerly as they took her eagerness with a rough pull of her hair and there it was- fire and daisies and the tartness of beer, Khleo’s hands skating down the bare, damp skin at her midriff, the cobra tattooed on to her forearm- until they both grew too breathless for balance and parted, panting.  

Balam laughed, pressing one last peck against their lips, sweet and brief. Then she drew her shawl back to wrap around her shoulder, and licked her lips. “The rain’s stopped.” She jumped back down to the street, and they followed, easily, their eyes trained on the way Balam’s damp shawls clung to her form.  

Are you done?  

Aaromal made her slow way down the street.  

Balam nodded at her familiar, and glanced at Khleo, an eyebrow raised. “D’you want to come home, or?” 

Keeping their voice cool, they wiped off a smear of Balam’s red lipstick from the corner of their mouth. “I’ll see you at the bar.” They murmured. “Boss’ probably forgotten all about the other night. Think you’re good for now.” 

“Oh, you’d know, wouldn’t you?” Balam winked, wiping down her chillum and tucking it into the satchel at her waist. “How to get me all good for you?” 

With another giddy laugh, and the musical tinkle of her bangles and anklets, she blew them a kiss, and walked away.  

[into-the-daniverse]

Alec x Khleo | Kiss Prompt 12

For @asras3rdeye with her Khleo! I had a lot of fun with this, I love these two 🥰 Annnnnnd it ended up a bit spicy, oops!

50 Types of Kisses Prompts

12. Sneaking away to a hidden corner to share a secretive kiss.

The noise of the tavern was loud, shaking the walls as the band played. Which was a good thing, because it helped mask the sounds of two people who had snuck away from the rest of the crowd.

Alec had watched Khleo’s eyes following her all night, and the second she had a moment between sets, she hopped down from the stage, making her way to the barhand. Khleo tried, and failed, Alec noted with a small smile, to not look at her as she approached, but the moment a soft “hi” fell from Alec’s mouth, a strong hand around her wrist was pulling her away. 

Which was how she had ended up pressed against the basement wall at the bottom of the stairwell, Khleo’s lips on hers, their hands traveling under her shirt with practiced ease.

Alec wrapped her arms over the barhand’s shoulders, already breathless as they kissed. The tip of Khleo’s finger grazed the underside of her breast and she gasped, pressing closer to them.

“W-woah, Khleo—”

They barely paused, hands shifting higher under her shirt. “What?”

“Mm—” She fought to keep her mind clear as their fingers traced her nipples. “What if someone comes looking for us?”

“That won’t be a problem,” they said, their teeth flashing in the low light as they grinned, “as long as you keep your voice down.”

Oh no. Alec whined, biting down hard on her bottom lip. 

Khleo let out a low laugh at her noise, and leaned down to kiss her chest, their hands slowly drifting down from her breasts to cup and squeeze her ass instead. Alec swore they were purring against her skin, and she had to focus extremely hard to keep from crying out as their teeth grazed her collarbone.

Their mouth moved up her neck and jaw until they rested at her ear, nipping just hard enough to drive Alec crazy, and her hands held onto their shoulders like her life depended on it. 

“Alec?” Suddenly, they both heard Camia’s voice call from the top of the stairs, pulling them out of their haze. “We need you for this next song, cub.”

Alec bit back another needy whine as Khleo continued to nip at her ear, and called up to Camia, hoping her voice didn’t sound as shaky as it felt. “I’ll be right there!” 

When she heard the other musician walk away, she turned back to kiss Khleo again, running her hands over their arms before she pulled away, struggling to calm her breathing. “Will you be here when we’re done?” she asked, trying to tuck her shirt back into her skirt.

Khleo cocked an eyebrow and gave her a look as if to say, I'm always here, and Alec felt her cheeks flush.

“I mean, can we finish this later?” 

Nodding, Khleo helped adjust her shirt, but not before pressing one last kiss to her exposed chest. “I’d like that.”

“Okay, good.” Alec sighed, fixing her braid quickly, and hoped she didn’t look too disheveled. “Good.”

She started to take a few steps up to the tavern, but stopped and turned back. Khleo gave her a small, slightly confused smile that quickly vanished as she pressed their lips together again, roughly, drinking in the taste of them before she finally, actually, pulled away, this time with a sly grin on her face.

“I think that should last me until then.”

Not waiting to see Khleo’s reaction, she made her way back up the stairs into the bright tavern, and rejoined the rest of the band on stage, licking her bottom lip as she imagined what she was going to do with her barhand later on in the evening.

[hirodraga]

Posting this chaos kitties :3 commission for @asras3rdeye of Khleo and @atypicalacademic 's oc Balam being flirty disasters. Thanks so much for commish mee!! ;uu; Comish info ^

[the-melting-world]

Ever since I finished writing Khleo’s album, I’ve been thinking of them spending time at their Gate with their familiar. Ross truly captured this tender moment between Khleo and Hefe. I honestly haven’t stopped staring 😭😭😭😭 also I just really adore them in his style. Thank you so much 💖

painting commission for the wonderful @asras3rdeye of a soft and restful moment between khleo and hefe 🥺

[the-melting-world]

The Sun | Series Summary and Reader Guide

The final version of this album will not contain characters from the Arcana VN. Later revisions of previous albums will eventually reflect this shift. The removal of Arcana characters will not affect the albums' plot or the characterization of the original cast: Kipling, Khleo, Ozy, Basil, Sascha, Sun Bai, etc. All locations from the Arcana will be altered or non-applicable to the story's events. The only exception is the deleted scenes, which were written beforehand and provide context for lore, but do not carry weight in the primary narrative. 

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A recap of major events:

Kip, Khleo and Ozy grew up together on an island monastery with other grey mages, including elders, who essentially act as guardians. 

A grey mage is someone who practices a type of teleportation magic. Grey magic can only be acquired genetically. Grey mages of the past used their powers to map the multiverse and the full range of its formations. They built magically-enhanced machine weapons to defend themselves from other factions that would seek to stop or destroy their progress. Grey mages are also referred to as umbras (sometimes a derogatory term) and Door Lords (those who wield grey magic to access and manipulate an inter-dimensional highway known as the Doors).

When Ozy, Kip and Khleo were children, they accidentally opened a Door that absorbed Khleo and nearly killed her. When Kip realized that Ozy couldn’t bring Khleo back, she took all of her anger out on him, hurting him and running away a year later to a different continent. Ozy is coached by the elders to seek enlightenment in a secret realm. He disappears inside of a subterranean library for ten years.

In The Empress album, Kipling regains her childhood memories of Khleo and Ozy. She suffers from a magical block that only resolves when she opens the Door to her patron Arcana and gets closure for her past mistakes. At the end, Kip's natural intuition towards unlocking Doors gives her an edge in moving them in a way that corrals roaming monsters into one space. Ozy doesn't reveal his intentions by asking Kip to do this, but he does imply that only their friend Khleo has what it takes to deal with the monsters inside the cage that Kip created. 

In the Strength album, we learn that Khleo has been living in the same city as Kip and working as a barhand. The money that she saved in order to quit her job, she instead gives to a struggling coworker, leaving herself without any options other than to keep working for Otto, her uncle. Otto consistently uses Khleo’s compassion for others and regenerative abilities to brutally control and extract from her. Khleo's reunion with her memories and childhood friends grant her the means to stand up to her uncle and embrace a new life as a Door Lord despite no longer having the magic she was born with. Just as he directed Kip, Ozy guides Khleo to the task he has set before them: taking on the monsters caged inside a series of Doors. Instead of relying on the grey magic that she no longer possesses, Khleo solves the riddle of the Doors through the blessings bestowed on her by the Strength Arcana – beast instinct as well as supernatural strength. Khleo calms the monsters and makes them clear the space that Ozy wants to use (for what, we still don't really know). 

Based on the events in The Empress and Strength, we can assume that some outside entity is working to eliminate grey magic from existence. This is achieved by siphoning magic from volunteers. Being relieved of grey magic appeals to many grey mages who no longer want to be branded by those who fear and hate them. Though Ozy has never explicitly stated that this is what drives him to help his friends reconnect with the Doors, he has expressed dread towards the question of time – whether he has enough of it and if he is using it wisely in his endeavors to bring Kip and Khleo into the fold of his grand scheme. We still do not know how much of a threat this erasure of grey magic directly poses to Ozy and his friends.

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Ozy's story so far...

Ozy has not revealed much regarding his ten years spent alone in an ancient sunken library. His only companion was his familiar, Abaco – a bird who can read, write, and register Ozy's thoughts. It's heavily implied that Ozy could not leave the library until he reached some kind of mental threshold related to grey magic. As soon as he could, however, he sought out his childhood companions, Kip and Khleo. Though Ozy has spells of self doubt and hesitation, he otherwise gives off the impression of knowing what he is doing when guiding his friends toward specific tasks. Of the three, Ozy has the most complete understanding and mastery over grey magic. This is mostly thanks to his very powerful and wealthy family, people who openly spread and endorse mistrust towards grey mages, but also in equal measure, hoard as much intelligence as they can on the subject of Door Lords. They even go so far as to employ gifted grey mages in order to educate their son. In the end, Ozy's family sent him away to live in the monastery, essentially disowning him and leaving him to defend himself among the other umbra children, who were orphaned directly because of the actions taken by House Sese Mar and other influential families like Ozy's. In the present day, Ozy nor his friends have returned to the Melting World since they left. They currently do not know if the monastery where they grew up is still there or how people on the islands view grey mages these days.

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For more context and storytelling into each of the Door Lords’ journeys, consider reading their albums before moving on. 

For Ozy, Khleo and Kip's childhood, read the prologue: Echoes of the Past

For Kip's story, read: The Empress

For Khleo's story, read: Strength

If you are ready to enter the final phase of the story, proceed to Ozy's album: The Sun

[into-the-daniverse]

“Come on my fingers, that’s it.” (From Khleo to Alec) + wall + taste

This is direct sequel to this prompt fic for these two!

Smut Starters & Symbols

“Come on my fingers, that’s it.” [wall] - to pin my muse to a wall [taste] - to have my muse taste themselves on your muse’s fingers

Many hours, and drinks, later, Alec found herself pressed to the wall at the bottom of the basement stairs again, though with considerably less clothes, and without the earlier risk of being caught.

She had given some half-assed excuse to the rest of the band for her to stay behind, but thankfully, they hadn’t questioned it. Camia had given her a knowing look before they left, but she just bid her goodnight as the door shut behind them.

A bit later, the rest of Khleo’s co-workers left, and then it was just the two of them, alone.

They wasted no time in chasing each other down the stairs, and hands pulled at clothes impatiently, throwing them haphazardly to the floor.

Alec shivered as her bare skin pressed against the cold wall but didn’t have enough time to exclaim before Khleo was kissing her, one of their hands already ghosting down her side, past her hips, over her thighs. When it pressed just high enough to be teasing, Alec gasped, into their mouth, spreading her legs apart a little more.

“Mm, Khleo—”

They shushed her, grinning against her lips as they lifted one of her legs to wrap around their waist. “Tell me if you want me to stop.”

She shook her head, biting her lip as she felt a finger press inside her, Khleo’s thumb teasing her clit. “Please don’t.”

They didn’t stop, and started to move in her instead. To keep herself from crying out too much, Alec kissed them again, long and deep, drinking in the taste of the alcohol they had sipped at all night. She had watched them at the bar as she performed—watched foam rest on their lips and thought about what it would taste like to lick it off. When their eyes met and they used their own tongue to lick their lips Alec had almost tripped over her lyrics, mind blanking as she remembered the feeling of their tongue between her thighs.

But now she didn’t have to guess at what they tasted like, or felt like, and as another finger joined the first, Alec moaned wantonly, pulling them closer. Every inch of her skin that wasn’t pressed to Khleo’s felt cold, and she wanted to feel warm, to be held, to be spoiled in the way they were so good at. 

And they were so good at knowing how to spoil her, what pace to set that had her stomach clenching. Already, she was so close, and she loved it.

She bit back a cry as Khleo’s fingers crooked inside her, burying her face into their shoulder. But when they slid a third finger inside, speeding up their pace, she couldn’t hold back the way her breath hitched on their name.

“Khlee-ee! I’m close—”

“Come on my fingers, kitten,” they purred into her ear, and she dug her nails into their shoulders, feeling herself pulse and flutter around them. “That's it.”

Alec whimpered, shuddering against their touch as they kept pumping their fingers into her, even as she came, squeezing her eyes shut and biting her lip in a desperate effort to keep from screaming their praises. Khleo pulled their fingers out and she almost collapsed completely against them, her knees shaking.

When Alec felt their wet fingers press against her lips, she parted them immediately, taking them on her tongue, licking and sucking herself off of them. She wanted to show her gratitude, just how amazing they made her feel, and cleaning them of her own orgasm was the least she could do.

“Are you okay?” Khleo’s voice was soft, and as their fingers left her mouth with a pop, Alec nodded.

“More than okay.” Her fingers toyed with their shorts, creeping under the hem. “Now I want to make you feel good.”

[the-melting-world]

Through her blush, Khleo chuckles, “Never? We should go strawberry picking sometime.”

The barhand reads the eagerness in Lucas’s eye and holds up another one. “Come here, let’s try that again. Slowly this time.”

~~~

Nali waves at the pink, feathery card and winks. “You know I had to.”

She wraps her arms around Amani’s strong arm and rests her head on her shoulder to hide her blush. “I’m not good with words actually. But when I think of you, the right ones come easy.”

🍓➡️ from Khleo to Lucas!

💌➡️ from Nali to Amani :3

Lucas bent down, sniffing the treat before nomming gently on it. His eyes light up as he chews. "I don't think-- I don't think I've ever have had these before!" He looked at her expectantly for another one.

-----

"Oooo a love letter? I don't know how you managed to get it as pink as the rest of your outfit." Amani laughed, tearing a line down the top and pulling it out to read.

Her cheeks flushed as she read the love letter. "When did you have such a way with words? Thank you, Nali."

[the-melting-world]

Positive Tension 🍋

@the-midsummer-masquerade | Thank you for hosting and managing this event 💕

You can read all of the fics to Don't Stop Til You Get Enough | Midsummer Masquerade here

Day 3 prompts: bondage, outdoors

Khleo x Cadenza

Cadenza belongs to @arcanecadenza

Khleo is non-binary and uses she/they pronouns interchangeably.

Music: “Positive Tension” by Bloc Party

~ 820 words

.

Khlee von Heine was in the middle of dragging an unconscious masquerader out of a garden fountain when she spotted a tall, dark-haired magician pacing one of the stone-paved intersections. 

The barhand had met this magician – Cadenza – many times in fact. It was nice to see her outside of a tavern hall, and in something that revealed much more than she typically would whenever she stopped by for a drink. 

Khleo made sure the party guest was somewhere they could safely rest before making their way over to the stone path. She briefly adjusted her champagne stockings before interrupting the magician to ask if she needed any help.

Something of importance had been lost. A bundle of silk that she had left on a stone bench by accident. 

“I only stepped away for a moment,” Cadenza snapped at no one in particular. “Didn’t think it would get stolen.”

“Pirates probably. They show up at these events sometimes.” Khleo crossed their arms and scanned the area one last time. “Look, we can’t replace the silk, but I got some rope that you can borrow.”

The tension in Cadenza’s brow ebbed by a few degrees. She folded her hands behind her back and finally gave the barhand some thoughtful eye contact.

“Can I see it? I need to be sure that it’ll be a reliable replacement.”

Khleo told her that of course she could and to follow them.

The rope was located close to the outdoor bar where Khleo was stationed for the night. She and Cadenza were partly shielded by a stack of wine barrels and some hedges. Beyond was a blanket of green, illuminated by a lazy swarm of fireflies.

When Khleo showed Cadenza the rope, they weren’t surprised by the magician’s need to investigate and test its hold. Khleo suggested that they tie Cadenza’s wrists so she could make a well-informed decision. 

“Well?”

Cadenza scrutinized the bindings while Khleo absently dragged their thumbs over the parts where the magician’s skin met rope.

After a while of no response, Khleo offered, “Do you want another demonstration?” They tugged until they had Cadenza’s mouth hot against their own. “Behind your back this time?”

Cadenza took her time thinking it over while she kissed the barhand.

“Yes, I would.”

Khleo was efficient. Their chest became a steady wall of support while Cadenza assumed this new position with her back to the barhand. 

“Get on your knees for me?” Khleo asked, their voice thinning out into a calm rasp. They secured the knot before letting their hands wander under Cadenza’s sheer robe, up her ribcage, finding stiff tacks of flesh among all that was soft.

Cadenza bit back a moan, seesawing her shoulders until her robe could no longer hold on. She shivered under Khleo shallow bites, closing her eyes against the restless movement behind her as the barhand’s suspenders dropped off and the buttons of their shirt came undone.

Then Khleo reminded Cadenza of the rope.

“Don’t forget to struggle a little.”

They encouraged her, twisting her nipples just so.

Cadenza swore and bucked against the rope. She found it both delightful and frustrating that it was quite tight.

“Ah. Not too much now, Denz.”

Khleo cupped the magician’s jaw to hold her head steady for the next round. They dipped their hand past Cadenza’s waist and worked those practiced fingers of theirs, enough to stoke a small fire in the pit of her stomach.

“You have me right where you want me, don’t you?” The magician said through her teeth.

The barhand gave an innocent shrug before flexing her warmth around Cadenza and breathing calmly against her neck. “Your words, Denz. Not mine.”

The closeness of their breath was enough to make Cadenza squirm harder against her bonds. 

“That’s right.” Khleo made a satisfied sound. “See? Not going anywhere.” Then she cleared her throat and gently nudged the crease of Cadenza’s ass. “Spread your legs a bit for me. Please.”

Cadenza steadied her chin and closed her eyes as she concentrated on dropping her hips and spreading her legs some more until her snatch was hovering just above the grass. Khleo’s fingers came back into play shortly after.

“Good to know that this rope is reliable, huh?”

Cadenza turned her head, catching Khleo’s smirking mouth in a not-so-gentle kiss. 

“Yes. It is.” she agreed, her voice steady and reflective despite the fact that her hands were tied and her pussy was swollen up to Khleo’s knuckles.

The barhand worked their magic above and below Cadenza’s waist, occasionally applying warm pressure to her neck. There were sounds of glasses clinking and idle chatter from the outdoor bar, but all Cadenza could really focus on was the unhurried smacking of Khleo’s lips against her slightly damp skin. That and Khleo’s soft rasps and even subtler purrs. 

Cadenza’s gaze grew heavy, but she held on, watching the lightning bugs flicker and drift past herself and Khleo into the balmy summer twilight.

[the-melting-world]

Coyotes 🍋

@the-midsummer-masquerade | Thank you for hosting and managing this event 💕

You can read all of the fics to Don't Stop Til You Get Enough | Midsummer Masquerade here

Day 1 prompts: baths, orgasm denial, food play

Khleo x Lucas

Lucas belongs to @totatoti

Khleo is non-binary and uses she/they pronouns interchangeably.

Music: “Coyotes” by Jason Mraz

~ 770 words

.

Khleo had a long night ahead of her. 

Not necessarily because of what she was up to in the palace baths. She had an hour before her work shift in the gardens started. Having completed most of her important errands, the baths presented a golden opportunity to mix a little work with play.

She and a certain tall dock worker were alone in the empty, steamy bath hall, testing the waters before the Midsummer Masquerade officially began.

In all truth, this meeting was for the safety and well being of the Countess’ guests. Khleo and her companion, Lucas, were intent on making sure that no matter how many times a bather reached their limits, the temperature of the water wouldn’t slow them down or dehydrate them unders such circumstances.

Lucas’s hips rocked fast as he broke through his own ceiling again, letting his strong hands slide from Khleo’s freckled shoulders down to their waist. 

“Good boy,” Khleo rasped softly while Lucas pressed his face along the side of their neck and groaned over his release. One of his hands came to rest around the base of her throat as the last of his excitement left him.

He kept them close, nuzzling his hot, flushed face in the roots of their rough curls even as he pulled out and discarded the used sleeve on the edge of the pool. It landed with a wet slap next to three others.

Khleo glanced briefly at the puddle of old cum. They barely noticed the rumble in their throat or how their own lip turned into a smirk at the sight of Lucas’s used-up sleeves, while she herself had yet to give in to that insistent calling coiled in the tight reach of her abdomen. 

The only indication of this was the stubborn lines of sweat trickling down her temples. Perhaps also the faint impression of teeth marks on their lower lip where they had bitten themself in order to distract from giving in.

“Now?” Lucas breathed against the skin under their ear. He sounded tired. Damned tired. But he would go again. He would do it as many times as Khleo wordlessly asked it of him.

He'd let them use him to push themselves to the limit. To see how many times they could hold back while three hundreds pounds of muscle unraveled inside them.

Lucas didn't miss the way Khleo's breath hitched in excitement as he anchored himself by their waist, bruising their skin without meaning to, jacking his hips ever harder and faster. Like he was chasing after each breath Khleo bit down on – desperate as hell for every and any reaction that the barhand might let slip from her very tight, very stubborn grasp.

But the reality was such that this bath session couldn’t last. Lucas had to be on duty all night just like Khleo. There was work to be done. An entire masquerade to manage and clean up afterwards. Lucas needed his strength for that.

But when would they have another moment like this?

Now was the time to seize it because there was no guarantee he’d get to see the barhand again before this magical once in a lifetime evening passed.

Now? 

Lucas repeated the question, this time by nudging against the side of Khleo’s damp face. He was already getting hard again, already working his palms along the athletic curves of the barhand’s back and biceps.

Khleo fed him a grape instead of answering him. First over her shoulder with her fingers. Lucas let his teeth graze her skin as he ate them. He pressed her against the marble edge until his erection was kissing the dip of her spine.

“Easy.” Khleo turned her head, bringing him another grape, this time between her teeth. “Easy, big guy. We've got time.” She turned all the way in order to face him.

They passed food to each other like this. Eyelids at half mast, skin glowing like embers from the heat and the mist. Their teeth found lips as often as they found fruit. Khleo's palms slid up against Lucas's, fingers threading, unlocking, before locking up again, tenderly testing one another's upper body strength.

Lucas wondered why Khleo hadn’t let herself come yet. He feared that should she wait too long, she would have one very uncomfortable night. 

Khleo interrupted Lucas’s thoughts with a question.

He answered, low and wanting.

“Still hungry.”

The plate of grapes was nothing but vines now. It clattered loudly against the marble as Lucas lifted Khleo onto the edge of the pool and sucked loud affectionate bites against her stomach and inner thighs.

Khleo’s hands tangled in the dock worker’s dark curls. Their purrs came out rougher, almost like growls. But they leaned back and let Lucas drag their hips to the very edge. 

He was hungry while she was still very full.

Lucas lazily wet his grape-stained lips before putting them to work. He was determined to keep it up and empty her out before the party truly got started.

[the-melting-world]

Smells Like Teen Spirit | Khlee von Heine

~ In which a strong challenger faces a crucible…

or, in which Khleo discovers her fighting spirit...

This fic takes place when Khleo is about 17 years of age.

Music: "Smells Like Teen Spirit" by Nirvana

cw: violence, mentions of blood

~ 1.5k words

.

It was late. Very late. 

Khleo carefully wrapped her hands in cloth the way she had seen the street fighters wrap theirs before a fight.

.

“What are these, Khlee?” Hans had asked earlier that day.

“Regalia, Papa. All the strongest fighters wear them.”

Hans set the colorful cords and headband off to the side.

“Hear me, Khleo. I’ve been around fighters for a long time. Ever since your mother and I first moved to this city. The glory and the adoring fans… those things can make you blind to how it really is. Fighters don’t get any reward in the end. Just crushed bones and broken spirits.”

“But…” Khleo’s words didn’t want her to use them. So she thought to herself.

But my bones grow back.

“Papa, you’re talking about gladiators. They’re not the same as kickboxers. That’s what I want to be.”

Hans shook his head, eyes soft with patient denial. “They are all the same, Leo.”

.

Khleo had not lost her temper with her father. Instead, she waited until night came. Now, wrapping her knuckles up in near darkness, she prepared herself.

For Khleo had something to prove. 

She didn’t fight for glory. Just as she didn’t dance for attention. To think that she did was almost insulting. The fight – the dance – they compelled Khleo. Each offered itself as an opening for all of those words that refused to be held or spoken. 

Khleo’s words had to go somewhere.

The young fighter slipped on the poncho that Magda had made for her, hiding the definition in her arms under a patchwork of fabric. They would stay there until it was time. Until she really needed them.

.

Khleo’s body was the shortest in the room. If one could even call it a room. It was more like a pit. 

All you could smell was sweat and soggy gravel. Whether the blows that landed were solid or slanting, there weren’t even enough lanterns to illuminate all the action.

But Khleo didn’t need to see it all. Over the crowd of fighters goading and hyping up their comrades in the ring, Khleo listened.

What she heard surprised her.

The sharp landing of bones in the elbows and knees colliding. Shins taking on blows like shields that the gladiators on the surface might carry.

And when Khleo was able to catch a glimpse, what she saw took her breath away.

She wanted to leap like that – legs tucked under with knees fanned out like a pair of torpedoes.

Khleo imagined using those torpedoes to grapple with her opponent until one of them hit the floor first. She wanted to know what it was like. To know that it was coming and brace herself for it. To slam against their own footprints and wrestle on.

To then get back up.

Do it again.

! ! !

“First time?”

They said that they could tell because of how fired up Khleo seemed. She made them wonder if she had jumping beans in her calves, they said.

“You know the rules, right?”

The crowd parted for Khleo.

“If it’s your first time, then you have to fight.”

Khleo walked the path of gravel and sand until she reached the threshold where she had to remove her shoes.

Someone asked for her weight class and she said she didn’t know. Someone in the crowd yelled a suggestion. Featherweight most likely.

To be sure, the ringmaster picked her up and swore under their breath.

“Featherweight my foot!” 

They marked her down as a middleweight and asked her what the hell she was hiding under her poncho. When she faltered, they asked, “You got a name, kid?”

She told them.

“No, no. Like a ring name. The one you use whenever you fight.”

She didn’t have one. Did that mean they were going to kick her out? Would they take it all back and make her go away?”

“S’alright, lass. Just stand right over there and wait for your challenger.”

The jumping beans in Khleo’s calves were back. The crowd murmured when Khleo made no move to take off her poncho. To shake off the nerves, she entered a deep squat and stretched the way she’d seen other fighters do.

Someone else finally entered the ring and did the same. From there he entered a pre-fight ritual. One where he visited four spots of the outer ring and bowed his head to his wrists as if in prayer. Then he came to the center, sank to his knees, bowed, bobbed on his heels, and bowed again.

He rolled his wrists and rose to his feet with gentle hops and easy swings of the heel. Like he was sweeping off the jitters.

Khleo wondered if he would show her this dance should she ask.

When they were fighting, he seemed all too aware of her inexperience. But the challenger never mocked her, meeting each of her blows with some level of caution. 

“She fights with her arms crossed over her chest,” He told the ringmaster when the fight was over.

Khleo looked down at her oversized poncho. How did he know?

Later that night the challenger did agree to show her the ritual dance.

Wai Kru, he called it. There’s lots of ways to do it. Find one and make it your own.

Khleo didn’t get the epic takedown she was hoping for that night, but she valued everything she learned.

And she kept coming back.

Each opponent taught her something new. The veterans watched for her arms like hawks. But Khleo kept them close, opting to duck or dodge if someone swung for her head.

Only during the day when she was alone in her room would she bring them out from under the poncho. She practiced those elbow attacks and strikes with the outer edge of her forearms.

The pit fighters started calling her the Little Dancer. Khleo wasn’t sure how she felt about that.

One time, a veteran spoke up for her. “That’s not her name.” She gave Khleo a sidelong glance. “Truth is, she hasn’t shown us her true colors yet.”

Khleo shared a quiet smile with the veteran. That night on the walk home, she decided that it was time.

.

“I want to change my weight class.”

The ringmaster sort of scoffed upon hearing Khleo’s request. But he honored it anyway and set her up with a challenger almost three times her size.

The pit was packed for this fight. The screams were deafening.

Khleo performed her Wai Kru, channeling her focus. Meanwhile, her challenger taunted her. You get ones like that sometimes. Fighters had many ways of intimidating their opponents. This one’s style was to toss out digs and insults meant to fluster her.

When it came time to face the challenger, Khleo, for the first time ever, did not fold her arms in an effort to make herself appear smaller.

Tonight she brought them up, elbows high. Just like the vets.

The hem of Khleo’s poncho slipped away, gathering around her collar and revealing the truth.

The noise in the pit died as soon as they all saw what their Little Dancer had hidden this whole time. This fight was not a test to see if Khleo could earn her spot among the heavyweights.

Khleo was the test.

“How strong are you?”

The pit was quiet enough for Khleo’s rasp to become an echo.

“Stronger than me?”

An eager smile broke across the fighter’s freckled features. She hoped the challenger would understand.

Don’t hold back. 

Knees.

You better fight me

Elbows.

like you mean it!

Kicks.

Followed by airborne grapples. 

Khleo lost a tooth. It grew back while she was losing another.

Everyone rejoiced when she landed an elbow to the challenger’s brow. His skull was hard where her bone connected. Both were running rivers of blood.

Both fighters fought in spite of ugly bruised shins and knuckles in need of re-taping. They jammed their fingers. Reset them on their own, biting back their whimpers and their howls. They grit their teeth and flung themselves at each other, only to jam their joints again.

The challenger was big, but Khleo was light on her feet and beautiful to watch. Was she a distraction, the challenger wondered. Or a true test of strength?

Was this fight even fair?

Yes, Khleo bled just as much as he. She staggered under the weight of exhaustion just like him. She made mistakes. She got knocked down.

But… whenever she got back up, somehow in the gloom of broken lanterns, under the gloss of shared sweat and blood, Khleo looked stronger every time she came back from a hit.

This kid loved the fight too much to give in. She was happy here.

How strong are you?

Khleo used the challenger’s chest to kick off into the cavernous sky. She twisted midair, her great arms steadying her. Keeping her aloft. 

Knees first, she came down on his face.

Stronger than me?

Even if he was, it didn’t matter.

The Crucible was always meant to win.

[the-melting-world]

Paradiso | Door Lords

~ In which the door lords gather with some new friends for a day of fun and relaxation in the Melting World...

Featuring: Ozy, Kipling, Khleo, and (@amuseoffire) Bakri, Theo, and Vehanoush!

Friendship Prompts: beach days, friendship bracelets, laughs, hyping each other up

Music: "Paradiso" by Yoko Kano

~ 1.2k words

.

At the entrance to the sea caves, there is a very tall rocky shelf overlooking a deep stretch of an old reef. 

Because there was no one around to stop them back then, Ozy and his friends would leap from this rock and unleash their screams upon the elbows of broken, half sunken limestone architecture. 

For the longest time, this tradition was only shared between Ozy, Kipling and Khleo. Many years passed where the reef went unvisited. The sea caves hiding just under the rocky outcroppings went unexplored. The ruins continued to collect sea moss, content to sink further and further into the belly of this island world.

That is, until Ozy and his friends, after so many years, finally returned. They came with more friends this time, who hailed from even farther lands and had never seen this rough layout of ancient lagoons and coral rock.

.

.

.

One after the other, Khleo and Theo jumped off the edge of the tallest rock. The sounds Theo made seesawed between bursts of boisterous laughter and raucous whoops as she cannonballed into the warm basin of liquid turquoise. 

Kipling, Vehanoush and Taro were keeping to themselves off by the entrance to the sea caves. Kip had them working on a project that she, when probed by Khleo, said was a secret and that no peeking whatsoever was allowed until they were finished.

Ozy and Bakri were hanging out in the shallows, right between the leaping rock and the entrance to the sea caves. Thanks to the ruins and the rocks, there was enough disrupted sunlight to create a warm, dappled umbrella of shade. 

Ozy was supposed to be helping Bakri ease into some deeper water to practice swimming, but the latter was more preoccupied by the faded glyphs on the broken limestone. The harder Bakri looked, the more he noticed a circular pattern forming. 

Before he could comment on it, Ozy pointed to a ring of glyphs and said, “Grey mages have always traveled the Doors in teams of three. The Elders sometimes referred to it as the cadre.”

Bakri studied the depictions a bit. Then he asked, “Why three?”

The beads in Ozy’s locs whispered as he bent closer towards the rock and dragged his finger from one glyph to the next. “Three roles. Three specific functions. First you have the locksmith. Then the architect. And finally, the support flex.” He straightened up. “They can be powerful forces to be reckoned with on their own, but together…”

There was someone calling Ozy’s name from off to the right. The grey mage’s entire demeanor changed as he waved to where Kipling was sitting with Vehanoush.

Ozy and Bakri waded over near the entrance of the sea caves. Normally, Bakri would have hesitated at the sensation of the water level rising up his back, but he was preoccupied by the glyphs shimmering in and out of focus along the walls. And by the sheer wonder in this blend of tropical waters and forgotten history.

Once they reached Kip and Vehanoush, it was hard to listen to what they had to say over the exclamatory echoes of Khleo and Theo hurling themselves off the rocks in the distance.

“We can go somewhere quieter,” Kip said as she spread out the project she and Vehanoush had been working on: friendship bracelets made from cowrie shells and dark twine. It didn’t surprise Bakri that Vehanoush had seemed to master the technique even though this was their first go at it.

“There’s a lagoon not far from here called the Enchanted Pool. The water is so clear that you can see all the way to the very bottom.”

Vehanoush’s eyes lit up at Kipling’s description. Ozy started nodding enthusiastically with every word. Just as Bakri was coming around to the idea of visiting waters deeper than the ones they were standing in, Vehanoush caught his attention with the bracelet they had made special for him. 

While she tied it around Bakri’s wrist and he was quietly admiring the smoothness of the shells, Ozy called out for Khleo and Theo. The grey mage’s voice bounced against the arching walls of limestone like a powerful bell. Despite this, they got no reply from the two cliff divers. Nor could they hear them splashing in the water.

Once again Bakri was being pulled in another direction. Though he didn’t mind. He waded through the shallow water with Vehanoush, keeping close to the sandbars while Ozy and Kip pushed into slightly deeper waters so that they could swim to the spot where they last heard their friends. 

Vehanoush showed Bakri the friendship bracelets they had made for Theo, as well as the other members of Bakri’s team, Heîv, Sevak, and Abisoghom.

Soon they wandered out from under the shade of the rocks and entered into sunnier waters. It appeared that Khleo and Theo had left their playground and instead sought refuge on another exposed shelf. Khleo was lying on her stomach, her arms folded under her head. 

Theo had taken advantage of Khleo’s lower back, resting her cheek just left of Khleo’s spine with her body facing away from the approaching group. Kip and Ozy both chuckled at the army of small conch shells slowly working their way up the rock and over Theo’s legs and hips. 

“They played so hard, they wore themselves out,” Bakri noted, smiling softly as he bent to pry a conch shell off of Theo’s ankle.

A soft ripple of noise came from where Khleo’s head was. “I’m up. Just resting my eyes.”

Theo interrupted them with a yawn and added, “Yes well, I’m definitely fast asleep.”

As soon as Kip said something about having a surprise for the two of them, they were both very suddenly upright and holding out their hands for Kip to drop gifts into. 

.

.

.

The six visitors sat in a row on the reef, their legs dangling over the water. A shifting array of brown skin glistened with salt and tiny sand crystals under the midday sun. Kip and Vehanoush tied everyone’s bracelets on for them. Theo celebrated the loudest, laughing and positively delighting at the way her cowrie shells clicked and snapped the more she flicked her wrist.

Bakri asked Ozy to finish telling him about the glyphs and what they stood for. He wanted to know about those three roles that each door lord cadre fulfilled. And if those same roles applied to Ozy, Kip and Khleo – then how exactly? 

While Vehanoush and Theo were excited to hear about this too, Khleo reminded everybody how hungry they all were. So Ozy’s explanations would have to wait until they got some lunch. The three newcomers pouted, but agreed that it was definitely time to eat and hydrate a little.

Ozy reminded his new friends that they would have plenty of time to learn about the Doors. He promised Bakri that he would show him more glyphs in the sea caves. As well as the monastery where he grew up alongside Kip and Khleo.

He would show them everything worth seeing. He promised them.

Ozy really wanted his new friends to have that chance to see whatever they had their heart set on.

He believed they deserved all that the Melting World had to give.

[the-melting-world]

Jurassic Park Moodboards

Isla Nublar: Site A. Homebase for the Jurassic Park Experiment. Though the island brings many enthusiasts of science and nature together, it does not intend on letting them leave…

~ Dr. Oz Mandias: Mathematical Ecologist and Environmental Journalist ~ Researcher Kipling S. Bronne: Paelobotanist and Naturalist ~ Ranger Khlee Heine: Park Ranger and Zookeeper .

Check below the cut for close ups and info on the door lords!

Dr. Oz Mandias

Mathematical Ecologist and Environmental Journalist

writes for National Geographic and a host of other scientific magazines/journals

considered an eccentric character among the scientific community

Has worked with Kipling Bronne in the past. Excited to be brought onto another project with her.

wants to use the Jurassic Park Experiment to study potential ecological challenges and the mathematical implications that develop from them

entirely indifferent to the dangerous and heavily controversial experiments going on at the park (partially why he received the invitation in the first place)

excited about the new scientific discoveries and breakthroughs the park has to offer. (And that's about it. Doesn't really care about sales or the tourism value in the exhibits.)

Researcher Kipling Bronne

Paleobotanist and Naturalist

Research assistant (working on a phd)

has interned for Ozy in the past

despite her inexperience, she was hired as a lead field botanist for Jurassic Park

aids in selecting plant species to populate exhibits according to specimen diets and habitat history

oversees the greenhouses

maximizes rarer plant fossils through hybrids and cultivars

closely records the success of the cultivars in the exhibits for her dissertation

also using the findings as research for her book, Genetically Engineered Prehistoric Botanica and Dinosauria, A Natural History

Taro is a ring-tailed lemur that slipped inside one of the greenhouses and now she won't leave!

Ranger Khlee Heine

Park Ranger and Zookeeper

Oversees the hadrosaur, ankylosaur, and carnivorous megafauna exhibits

Used to oversee velociraptors, but asked to be transferred after a disturbing "incident"

On top of caring for specimens, does a lot of grunt work around the park

seasonal worker with an "unsavory" record, so they don't complain much

has seen some of the fucked up shit that goes on at the park, but keeps quiet about it because she doesn't want to lose her job

has learned some tricks to avoid being caught off guard by "rogue specimens"

her favorite part of the day is feeding the ankylosaurs and watching them trundle towards the feeders (it's cute!)

Hefe is one of the Siberian Tigers that Khleo cares for!

[the-melting-world]

Don't Stop 'Til You Get Enough | Midsummer Masquerade Masterlist 🍋

@the-midsummer-masquerade

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Day One: Coyotes 🍋 | Khleo x Lucas (@totatoti) | baths, orgasm denial, food play

Day Two: Party Monster 🍋 | Solo x Rodrigo (@into-the-daniverse) | lingerie, impact play

Day Three: Positive Tension 🍋 | Khleo x Cadenza (@arcanecadenza) | outdoors, bondage

Day Three: Breezeblocks 🍋 | Khleo x Theo (@amuseoffire) | outdoors

Day Four: Move Me 🍋 | Kipling x Andrico (@ilyamatic) | voyeurism, suspension, magic

Day Four: Headlock 🍋 | Sun Bai x Haleth (@mxgicthot) | magic

Day Five: Get Into It (Yuh) 🍋 | Sun Bai x Cadenza (@arcanecadenza) | toys, praise

Day Five: TEST DRIVE 🍋 | Sun Bai x Olivia (@popcornaddict500) temperature play, praise

Day Six: It's All So Incredibly Loud 🍋 | Ozy x Jamil (@into-the-daniverse) | role play, dirty talk

Day Seven: Wonderful 🍋 | Sun Bai x Jacqui (@into-the-daniverse) | anonymous, body worship, marking

Day Seven: Closer 🍋 | Khleo x Bakri (@amuseoffire) | collars, marking, overstimulation

Door Lords Timeline - Aftercare Special: Crowded Places | featuring Sun Bai, Solo, Sascha, Kipling, Khleo, Ozy

[the-melting-world]

Khleo’s gaze is dark and feline as she tracks Amie’s smeared, swollen lips.

“Nah,” she whispers, “you’re the first.”

The barhand sinks back a little so Amaryllis has no choice but to tip forward.

“You don’t have to stop at my neck, you know.” Khleo licks her lips. “Keep going if you want.”

Only if the songstress is up for it.... Khleo💄?

💄 – a lipstick kiss

Amaryllis pulls away from Khleo’s neck, still straddling her hips, to examine their work. “Has anyone ever told you how good you look in red, tomcat?” Bright red smears of their lipstick litter her neck, complementing the faint marks leftover from harsher kisses.