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maryannebarrow · 10 months

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Horses for Horror

The morning started as it always did: with a bang.

Well before Annika's alarm was scheduled to go off, the door flew open and hit the wall. Light poured in, and out from the torrent jumped her sister. Maria lunged onto her prey’s bed, pinning Annika’s legs and ensnaring the covers around her tiny fists. Annika's body tensed. She instinctively wanted to kick the little beast, but her lower body was firmly immobilized.

“Rise and shine!” Maria trilled. “Mom said you’re taking me to Mormor’s today!”

Annika grabbed hold of a nearby pillow and hurled it in the direction of the voice. After a satisfying thwack, Maria let out a startled squeal and tumbled off the bed, dragging the blankets with her. Annika lay there for a moment before sitting up and rubbing her bleary eyes. As she gazed around the room, the damp morning air sent shivers down her spine. Goosebumps dotted her bare arms.

Somewhere in the darkness, off to her right, there came an insistent scratching noise. Annika squeezed her eyes shut and gritted her teeth. The little fingernails dragging across hard plastic grated against her ears like a rusty blade dragged across metal. It was an awful sound.

It sounded like a little sister touching things she shouldn’t.

Annika bolted upright and saw Maria’s ghostly figure hovering near the dresser. A blurry hand reached out to caress the glossy model horses poised upon the lacquered surface.

“Don’t touch those!” Annika shouted.

Maria retracted her hand and impishly stuck her tongue out, a mischievous glimmer in her eyes.

“Mom said get up, or we’re going to be late,” she said in a sing-song voice. “Rise…and… SHINE!”

With that, Maria vanished through the door. Annika threw her legs over the side of the bed and rushed towards the dresser.

The horses remained in their original place, all seven of them. Annika's eyes scanned the group, searching for her favourite, a Palomino named Peaches. When she spotted him standing at the head of the herd, a wave of relief washed over her. Despite not playing with them anymore, she had cherished the model horses since her fifth birthday. She knew Maria coveted them, but Peaches and his mares were hers, and only hers, to keep.

Downstairs, a loud bang echoed through the house as someone slammed the pantry door shut. The chatter from the television was abruptly cut off. The smell of coffee permeated the air and tickled Annika's nose. In the corner of the room, the alarm clock's red glow taunted her with the time.

It had only been two minutes since she got up, but she already was exhausted again.

Slush sprayed over Annika’s jeans as she trudged to the bus stop. Her hand sweated in her mitt as she gripped Maria’s gloved hand and pulled her along. The cold had finally let up, but the March winds still whipped their faces, turning their cheeks a bright shade of red. Maria kept complaining about the numbness in her big toes, but Annika didn’t know what to do about that.

They approached the desolate bus stop. A boy around Annika’s age was huddled against the wall, his face hidden behind a mop of floppy blond hair. Annika couldn't help but be drawn to him as he crouched over a tattered sketchbook, a tooth-ravaged pencil clutched tightly in his chapped, pink fingers. His gaze was so intently focused on his drawings that he seemed unaware of the biting wind or his best friend. Annoyed that he didn’t notice her, Annika asked dryly, “Couldn’t wait for art class, Lasse?”

Lasse's eyes widened as his head snapped up, as if he couldn’t believe she would suggest such a thing. He jammed the sketchbook into his backpack, which sat open on the hard-packed snow, and stood up.

“I’m practicing my characters,” he said defensively.

“How’s it going?” Annika asked.

“Shitty.”

Maria gasped. “You said a bad word!”

“Maria,” Annika sighed, “go wait outside.”

"But Mom said you can't leave me alone," Maria protested.

Annika knew the area could be dangerous, especially with creeps lurking around. She couldn’t risk leaving Maria alone, but she really wanted some time alone with Lasse.

"I'll be watching from in here. Just go," Annika insisted.

“But Mom said –”

“Mom’s not here, and when Mom’s not here, I’m in charge. Now go.”

With that, Maria obediently stationed herself under the stop sign. Though she pouted spectacularly, she was not even a stone’s throw away from the shelter. It was close enough for Annika to see her, but far enough to grant her some peace.

Annika took her place next to Lasse in the shelter. Their breaths misted from their lips and fogged up the glass. The backpack sat between them, the zipper teeth glinting in the grey morning light. Annika was watching a tendril of her breath curl upwards when she noticed Lasse looking at her. When she turned, his eyes immediately flicked down to the bag, and she wondered how long he had been doing that. She glanced down at the backpack.

The sketchbook rested crookedly against the back panel. It was likely propped up by a pencil case wedged at the bottom. A dark box was nestled between the sketchbook and a school agenda. With a little nod of assent from Lasse, Annika’s hand delved into the bag and brought out the box.

It was a VHS tape with worn, white corners and a glossy sepia image on the front cover. The subject was a grotesque, bald man wearing an old-fashioned coat and a haunted expression. The words NOSFERATU: A Symphony of Horror arched widely across the desaturated background.

“I got it from the bargain bin at Larsson’s,” Lasse said proudly.

He shifted closer next to Annika and peered over her shoulder.

“What is it?” she asked.

His gaze flew to hers. Blue collided into brown. “It’s a silent movie,” he whispered with widened eyes and a creeping smile, “about a vampire.”

Annika grinned. She remembered their childhood games of vampires in Lasse's backyard. She had always loved how he took charge, insisting they play at twilight, and how he would chase her around the yard, until he spotted an opening to jump onto her back and pin her arms to the ground. He would lower his mouth to her neck, but he never actually bit her. Sometimes they got into fights when she refused to bury him in the dirt, but he’d always get his revenge by chasing her around the yard all over again. It was all so thrilling and innocent. The scolding from her mother about the grass stains on her clothes was a small price to pay for all that excitement.

Annika handed the VHS back. “Seems like your kind of thing.”

“You want to watch it with me?”

A sliver of trepidation ran through her belly. “When?”

“Tonight.”

“Can’t.” Annika gestured to her sister outside. “I have to take Maria to Mormor’s.”

“Then how about tomorrow? It’s Friday.”

His hopeful grin widened as he held the black-and-white monster in his hands. Annika noticed the spark in his eyes, a sight she rarely witnessed lately. It was clear that Lasse's excitement would consume him throughout the day. Faced with his genuine joy, how could she deny him?

Chewing on her lip, she pretended to consider the offer, and then said, “Sure.”

She steered the conversation away from vampires until their bus came to a wet, screeching halt at the curb.

Annika did not see Lasse at school for the rest of the day. He was in a grade ahead of her, so they often parted ways in the morning and reunited on the bus ride home. This suited her just fine today, as it gave her a few hours of reprieve to worry by herself.

She spent the first half of the day trying not to think about tomorrow. She doodled in her composition book, hoping to distract herself from the images that flashed through her mind. But they kept on invading her thoughts: the crushing darkness of Lasse's basement, the horrific face of that vampire from the VHS cover, and the unsettlingly jerky movements of the actors she would see in that slow frame rate typical of old movies.

At lunch time, her repressed fears returned when her friends noticed her quiet demeanour. She confessed her dilemma, and the group huddled together, debating what Annika should do. Elsie insisted that she should cancel the movie night altogether. But Annika didn't take her suggestion seriously, knowing Elsie didn’t like Lasse because “he was a weirdo”. Sara offered some practical advice, telling Annika to take deep breaths, close her eyes during scary scenes, and excuse herself to the washroom if needed.

“Or you could just tell Lasse you don’t like horror movies,” she finished with a shrug.

But that, Annika had tried to explain, was impossible.

That afternoon, Annika could have easily dropped off Maria at Mormor's and headed straight home for some much-needed alone time. But she decided to visit instead.

Mormor was not Annika and Maria's biological grandmother, but she was as much a part of their family as anyone else. Her real name was Anna Sjöberg, an elderly woman who had lived at the end of their street for as long as they could remember. Their mother had been friends with her for years, and Anna's warmth and kindness had endeared her to the whole family. In fact, it was their mother's fondness for Anna that had inspired Annika's name. Mormor was a fixture at all their family gatherings, from holiday celebrations to birthday parties, and was always there to lend a hand when Mom had to work late.

So, after getting off the bus, Annika took Maria's hand and led the way down their quiet street, with Lasse trailing behind them.

Maria ran up to Mormor’s house while Annika and Lasse lingered on the walkway. There was a fresh cut on his cheek that hadn’t been there this morning, the surrounding skin already discoloured and bruised. Annika asked what happened, and she got a shrug in response.

“I fell.”

“How?”

“Slipped on the ice.”

Her eyes went again to the shiny red split in the skin that was barely a hair’s breadth. It must have bled, and this realization made Annika slightly sick.

“So, you’re still coming tomorrow, right?”

She gulped. “Yes.”

Lasse brightened immediately. “It’ll be awesome. I heard the guy who plays Orlok was an actual vampire.”

“If you’re so excited,” Annika said, “why not watch it tonight? You don’t have to wait for me if you don’t want to.”

His eyebrows creased. “Why would I do that? It wouldn’t be fair to watch it without you.”

The sun was setting behind Mormor’s house, casting Lasse’s eyes in shadow. Annika smiled and patted his shoulder. Her mitt made a muffled thumping sound against his parka.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she promised.

With that, Lasse hurried to the stretch of yellow linked houses across the street while Annika climbed the stairs Mormor’s front door.

The old house had a charmingly rustic feel, with its drafty windows and creaky floorboards. It was exactly the kind of house Annika dreamed of living in when she grew up. The living room was adorned with lace doilies. A well-worn carpet lined the stairs to the upper level. In the kitchen, checkered curtains framed the windows, casting a warm glow over the room. A plump, silver-haired woman stepped away from one of the windows to greet Annika with open arms.

They went to the kitchen, where Maria had already devoured a plate of cookies and was sipping on her second glass of milk. Mormor offered Annika two double chocolate biscuits and a cup of coffee, the customary fuel for starting homework. As usual, Maria finished her work early and dashed off to play in the living room. Meanwhile, Annika struggled with a page of math problems until Mormor pulled up a chair and placed two cups of decaf on the table.

“What are you having trouble with, dear?”

“Algebra,” Annika muttered.

“Let me see.”

She handed Mormor her worksheet, the eraser marks still fresh. The old lady adjusted her glasses, her wrinkles deepening as she squinted at the problems.

“Here.” She pushed one of the steaming mugs towards Annika. “I’ll see if I can figure this one out for you.”

Annika took a deep sip of her coffee. It was nearly scalding. But the hot liquid helped clear her mind, pulling her out of the fog of abstract numbers and letters and grounding her back in Mormor's cozy kitchen with its checkered curtains. After a moment, Mormor shook her head and laid the paper down flat.

“I was never much good at math,” she said with a chuckle. “Per was always better with numbers. I can add and subtract just fine, but multiplication tables? Division? Goodness, even taxes – That was his job.”

Annika sighed. “I usually have remediation with Sara, but she’s not much better than me. Elsie’s got a knack for it, though.”

Mormor raised an eyebrow. “What about Vera Andersson’s boy?”

Annika lowered her mug. “Lasse? No, he’s failing math. He got grounded the other week for drawing goblins on his test.”

Mormor chuckled. She folded her hands on the page and looked up at the ceiling, as if something terribly interesting was happening up there. Annika leaned back in her chair and relaxed.

“Did I ever tell you about the time I snuck out of my mother’s house to meet Per for a date?” Mormor asked, a twinkle in her eye.

Annika shook her head, her curiosity piqued. Mormor smiled and leaned her elbows on the table, her hands clasped in front of her nose. She bowed her head towards Annika and spoke, her voice filled with nostalgia.

“I must have been a little older than you are now. It was summertime, and Per invited me for a stroll after dinner. My mother wouldn’t allow it, though. She said it was inappropriate. Oh yes, dear, lots of things back then were considered inappropriate. Anyway, we fought terribly about it, and she sent me to bed early.”

Mormor paused for a moment, lost in thought before continuing. “But I was quite worried that if I didn’t show, Per would get the wrong idea. So, I opened the window, climbed down the tree in my backyard, and went to meet him. It was still light out, and it was the loveliest walk I’ve ever been on. I’ve never seen apple blossoms like that in my life before or since.”

“How did your mom react when you came home?” Annika asked.

“Oh, she was cross,” Mormor admitted with a laugh. “She threatened to never let me see Per again!”

“But you kept seeing him anyway.”

“That’s right.”

“But how? Weren’t you scared of what she would say?”

Another shimmer lit up Mormor’s grey-blue eyes. It could have been mistaken for tears, but it was too bright, too happy. With a wistful sigh, she blinked and lowered her hands.

“Maybe I was a little frightened,” she said quietly. “But the thing is, Annika, nothing could ever scare me enough to keep away from Per.”

Friday morning was a disaster. Both Maria and Annika slept in and were late for the bus. There was a pop quiz based on the algebra homework from last night. Around every corner, Annika swore she saw a gaunt face with sharp teeth lurking in the brickwork. By lunchtime, she was all but praying for the day to end.

When they got home, they discovered a note from Mom that revealed three more annoyances: She had been called in to work late at the hospital, there were leftovers in the freezer, and Annika was expected to watch Maria until she came home.

“No way,” Annika grumbled. “I promised Lasse I’d go over tonight! I’m calling Mormor.”

And she did, but only the answering machine picked up. With a huff, Annika slammed the phone back onto its cradle, crossed her arms, and leaned against the wall. Maria wandered over with a spoon of apple jam in her mouth.

“You gonna watch me?” she asked, her words muffled.

“No.”

“Mom said you have to.”

Annika fell silent for a moment, lost in thought as she watched the paper boats of her ideas drift by. An idea suddenly caught on the shores of her mind and began to unfold as she stared at Maria.

“What?” Maria whined after a long pause.

“I’m going over to Lasse’s to watch a movie,” Annika replied. “If I put something on for you here while I’m gone, do you promise not to tell Mom?”

“No way.” She pulled the spoon out of her mouth with a pop. “You’re not supposed to leave me home alone.”

Annika let out a heavy sigh. She considered her options, growing more and more desperate, until she was left with one final idea. With a lump in her throat, she said, “Okay. How about my horse collection?”

Maria eyed her. “What about it?”

“You can have my collection if you promise not to tell Mom.”

The words tasted bitter in her mouth. The thought of Peaches and his band going to live in Maria’s room left her rather empty, but she quickly pushed the feeling away. She remembered the way Lasse’s face fell when she suggested he watch the movie without her, and she steeled herself. Why did she care about plastic toys for little kids, anyway? She��d trade horses for horror any day if it meant she could keep her promises.

Annika quickly microwaved the leftovers, so they came out half-frozen. She didn't really care and was too nervous to eat much of it anyway. After setting everything up, she hurried down the street at a brisk pace. She left Maria sitting in the living room, surrounded by the model horses while The Muppet Movie played on their TV. With any luck, she’d be back before the film ended.

Annika crossed the threshold. There was no going back as she greeted Lasse’s mother and stepfather. She descended the stairs to the basement, where she found Lasse waiting for her. They sat on the floor in total darkness, but Annika felt that it was not as unhomely as she had been expecting. They were settled on a bed of fluffy blankets and down pillows, which had come from Vera and Jon’s bedroom. Bags of licorice and car-shaped lollies were open and resting in their laps. The soft glow from the television enveloped them in a sepia-toned cloud that seemed to keep the shadows at bay. Even the ethereal glassiness of Lasse’s eyes didn’t bother her.

While the green pause button hovered in the corner of the title screen Annika told him about the trade she made with Maria. When she was finished, Lasse said nothing, as if to allow a moment of silence for the lost horses.

“I’ll buy them back for you,” he offered eventually. “I’ve seen a whole collection like yours in that toy shop on Huvudgatan.”

“Don’t be silly,” Annika chided. “I made a deal, fair and square. There’s no going back now.”

Lasse shrugged and raised the remote. “I guess not.”

And he hit play before Annika was ready.

The beginning of the movie wasn’t so bad. The desaturated scenes and the blurry faces were somewhat uncanny, but the story opened with a bright domestic scene. Annika and Lasse giggled at the way the actors exaggerated their expressions and gestures. The score was pleasant and serene, even when the main character, Hutter, took off on his ill-fated journey to Transylvania.

As Hutter's stay at the inn continued, Annika felt the few strands of ease slipping through her fingers. She tried to hold onto them as tightly as she could, but to no avail. As the scene grew darker, and the vampire’s crumbling castle loomed onscreen, a familiar pit opened up in her stomach. Annika reached for the licorice and glanced over at Lasse. He was staring with rapt attention, without blinking, at the scene. His hands were balled into fists on drawn-up knees, and his lips were slightly parted as he waited for the arrival of the monster.

Annika was not looking at the screen when the villain finally revealed himself. She only knew he had appeared when Lasse let slip a rather sinister laugh. She turned to him again, and this time he did look at her. Now, the glimmer in his eyes looked less whimsical and more unsettling, the light from the TV casting pools of shadow in the hollows of his face. His smile pulled his mouth into twisted angles, and Annika felt a shiver run down her spine. She couldn't help but lean away from him.

Count Orlok looked just as terrifying as he did on the VHS box: gaunt and bug-eyed, with razor-sharp teeth and claws. Nothing more than a walking corpse in a trench coat. Annika watched the dinner scene, waiting for the Count to make a sinister move. Her muscles tensed and goosebumps broke out over her skin, waiting for him to jump out from behind a corner and shock her with an unexpected appearance.

But that moment never came. Instead, something far more terrifying happened. As Hutter drifted off to sleep, the monster lurked outside his room. He pushed past the door with his stilted shuffle and stared forward with his thousand-yard gaze. The Count didn't just look at the camera, he seemed to be looking directly at Annika, his eyes piercing through the screen and into her soul. Her jaw clenched. The Count took a step into Hutter's room, and an invisible force pushed Annika in the chest. She saw a flash of Hutter’s terrified face as a shadow flew across the wall. The violins screeched in warning, and everything went black.

“Hey.”

Annika opened her eyes. The cheery green pause symbol had appeared again, the screen frozen on an image of Hutter hiding under his duvet. Lasse was looking at her. Gone was the maniacal grin and the air of ghoulish delight. He seemed every bit the Lasse she knew before they started the movie.

“You okay?” he asked. “You closed your eyes at the best part.”

Now, she just felt guilty. She had been found out, caught red-handed. Annika the spoil sport, ruining her best friend’s fun. Annika the coward, who couldn’t even handle an old film. She crossed her arms and looked at her lap.

“So…?” Lasse prompted.

“So,” Annika sighed, “keep going.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because the movie’s scaring you.”

Static crackled lightly in the quiet. She picked at a loose thread on her pants, trying to ignore the gnawing feeling in her gut. The silence between them grew thicker by the second, and Annika couldn't think of anything to say to make things better.

“That’s what horror movies do,” she muttered. “They’re supposed to scare you.”

“Yeah, but it’s supposed to be a fun kind of scared.”

Annika frowned at him. “How do you find it fun? Horror, I mean.”

He shrugged. “I just think it’s cool.”

“I wish I felt the same.”

The corners of Lasse’s mouth sagged. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For making you scared. I always make you scared.”

“That’s not true.”

“Yes, it is. Even when we were kids, you were scared of the vampire game. This is no different.”

He was on the verge of spiralling into despair. Though it didn't happen often, when Lasse succumbed to his negative thoughts, it could be a challenge to pull him out of the pit. Annika had to act fast or risk losing the entire night to his dark mood.

“Remember all those times you faced your fears head-on? Like when you wanted to be buried alive or when you climbed that tree in the dark? You did all of that for me, so I wouldn't have to. Now you're here, apologizing to me, but I should be thanking you. You showed me what it’s like to be brave while you kept me safe.”

It seemed like the right thing to say in her head, but in the silence that followed, Lasse’s troubled gaze fell from hers and onto the blankets between them.

"I never let you be the vampire,” he muttered.

“I didn’t want to be. You were always better at it.”

“But it’s not fair. You don’t know what it’s like. If you did, you might not find them so scary.”

Annika paused to reflect on this for a moment. As far back as she could remember she had always avoided scary things. When they played games as children, she always wanted to be the human, never the monster. Dilapidated houses, forests, and dark tunnels intimidated her. She even hated walking around her house at night. She couldn't recall a single moment in her life where she had ever felt truly comfortable in the darkness.

But there again, she never tried.

Lasse shook his head and exhaled softly. “Bite me.”

Annika recoiled. “What the hell, Lasse? I’m trying to comfort you!”

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

He reached up and tucked his hair behind his ears. Holding her gaze, he tipped his head back and turned to one side. The pale column of his neck practically glowed in the dim light. “Go on.” He gestured to his neck. “Give it a try.”

The suggestion of an Adam’s apple cast a small, half-moon shadow against his skin. Beneath it, there were muscles and an intricate web of veins that kept Lasse alive. Annika tilted her head and focused on his eyes.

“I’m not going to bite you. You never bit me during the game.”

“I’m telling you it’s okay.” He turned his head further to the side until he couldn’t see her anymore. “Go ahead, Annika.”

At that moment, she realized he was completely at her mercy. Lasse’s gaze was fixed on the couch behind them, his body still. No more words passed between them. Annika could do whatever she wanted. She could pull his head back and tell him to stop being stupid. She could get up and walk upstairs. She could even turn off the VCR and banish Count Orlok from her sights forever.

Or, she really could give it a try.

Slowly, Annika unfurled herself from her huddled position and inched towards Lasse. He didn’t move. Her gaze flicked to his neck. Up close, she couldn't help but notice the tiny bumps that prickled his skin from his neck down to his collar. A chill ran up her arms, as if seeing them made her cold too.

As Annika leaned in closer, she could feel the heat emanating from Lasse's body, sweeping the chill away and seeping into her bones. The damp, earthy scent of the basement clung to his hair and clothes. As she parted her lips, she closed her eyes. Her teeth grazed over his skin, and she imagined her canines elongating as they made contact with his soft, yielding skin. She breathed out a sigh, and Lasse shivered.

Then, a sudden shout echoed from above.

Annika and Lasse jolted apart like magnets with identical poles, their bodies repelling each other. Vera appeared at the top of the staircase, phone in hand.

“Annika, your mom’s on the phone,” she called.

Annika felt the fear come pouring back in, flooding her nervous system. Without exchanging a single word, she and Lasse scrambled to their feet and hastened up the stairs, suddenly eager to escape the darkness of the basement.

Lasse sat at the kitchen table while Annika took the phone and hurried around the corner. As soon as she raised the receiver and said "Hello," chaos erupted.

Mom's anger was palpable through the phone. She had returned home during her break to find Maria asleep in a living room filled with toy horses and Annika nowhere to be found. When asked what she was doing at Lasse’s, Annika made the mistake of being honest. She had to hold the receiver away from her ear as Mom yelled something about responsibility, and why it wasn’t safe to leave little sisters home alone, and if Lasse asked her to jump off a bridge would she do that too? The call ended with a command to come home immediately, and Annika knew without asking that she was grounded.

When she came back into the kitchen, Lasse jumped to his feet. “How’d it go?”

“Bad.” Annika hung up the phone. “Mom’s home. She’s really angry. I have to go.”

“Oh.” His voice was quiet as his face fell, causing that that troublesome crease to appear between his eyebrows again. Crossing his arms, Lasse scuffed his toe against the linoleum flooring. Annika frowned.

“I’m sorry about this. Let’s reschedule for another night.”

“Let me walk you home,” he murmured.

An image of Mom yelling at Lasse from the porch flashed in Annika’s mind.

She shook her head and replied, “I’ll be all right. It’s just up the street.”

“If you say so.”

After saying goodbye to Vera and Jon, Annika was seen to the door by Lasse. As she was about to step outside, he slid his arms under hers and pressed his hands against her back, briefly holding her close. He quickly let go and stepped back, attempting a smile, though he looked as if he had just stubbed his toe.

“Good luck,” was all he said before whisking her out the door.

The mild air was a welcome relief after days of winter's icy grip. Annika left her jacket unzipped as she strolled among partially cleared snowbanks, enjoying the agreeable temperature. Despite the streetlights illuminating the road, the moon outshone everything, its full, round shape promising a night full of possibilities. Annika gazed up at it as she walked, mesmerized by its ethereal glow. The night around her was alive, with the wind rustling through the bare tree branches, casting slender, crooked shadows across the moon's face. Ripples fanned out from unseen sources in puddles, and in the chasms between the houses, shadows with flashing eyes watched Annika pass.

She should have been scared. She was the only one in the street and there were things she couldn’t see in the darkness. But she wasn’t. In fact, she knew better than anyone that the things out there should be scared of her.

Annika ran her tongue over the top row of her teeth. Just as she suspected, her canines were still elongated, poised to bite. She took longer, lighter steps, gliding over the slushy walkway as her hair billowed gently behind her. The vampire’s thirst for blood, for life, simmered away in her chest and it made her oddly giddy. When she imagined putting her mouth to Lasse’s neck, something ticklish shot down her arms and produced a shudder. The sensation subsided, but the residual tickling in her nerves persisted, and Annika had to smother a fit of giggles with her hand.

She finally reached her house, where the porch light shone like a beacon. Before heading up the walkway, she imagined Peaches and his mares grazing in a field of apple blossoms. She doubled over and laughed aloud. Her sudden outburst caught the attention of her mother and sister, who rushed out on the porch without coats, completely unaware that Annika no longer missed her horses.

THE END

#fiction #slice of life #puppy love #first crush #coming of age #original story #original work #nostalgia

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deepinmummymatters · 1 year

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Also be mindful exactly where the furniture will eventually be placed,is it for an indoor living room or for outdoor use? Secondly, a primer used on wooden surfaces can help prevent stains or water damage from bleeding through the topcoat of your lacquer paint. How to apply lacquer paint on furniture like a pro If you want to give your old furniture a new lease of life, lacquer paint is one of the best options. It's durable and versatile and can be used on various surfaces, including wood, metal, and plastic. With the right technique and tools, you can apply lacquer paint smoothly like a professional. When selecting the best lacquer paint for furniture, consider its durability, finish quality, and color options. The Rust-Oleum 1906830 Lacquer Spray Paint is an excellent choice as it dries quickly and provides a glossy finish that's resistant to chipping and fading. This spray paint comes in over 30 colors to suit any style or preference. To apply lacquer paint like a pro on furniture, start by preparing the surface by cleaning it thoroughly with soap water or TSP cleaner. Durability: Lacquer paint has become an increasingly popular type of finish and choice for furniture transformation projects. Its high gloss finish and vibrant color options make it a favorite among homeowners looking to give their old vintage pieces of furniture a new lease on life. However, one of the main concerns people have when considering lacquer paint for their furniture is its durability. The good news is that lacquer paint provides the best high quality finish and coverage, is incredibly durable with no toxic fumes. It forms a hard, protective layer on top of your furniture that can withstand everyday interior use and wear and tear. Unlike other types of paint that may chip or scratch easily, lacquer paint following dry time will hold up over time with proper care and maintenance. In addition to its durability, lacquer paint also dries quickly and cures faster than other paints, making it the best wood lacquer and ideal choice for those who want to complete their finished product transformation project in a timely manner. Why lacquer paint is the most durable option When it comes to transforming an old furniture piece into something new, there are a plethora of options available. From chalk paint to acrylics, the variety can be overwhelming. However, if you're looking for the most durable option that will stand the test of time, lacquer paint is your best protective finish. Lacquer paint is made up of nitrocellulose resin and solvents that dry quickly and form a hard film on top of the surface it's applied to. This results in an incredibly strong finish that can withstand scratches and wear better than any other type of paint. Plus, lacquer paint dries incredibly quickly which means you'll be able to complete your furniture transformation project in no time. If you want your furniture transformation project to stand up to a lot of use and last for years to come without worrying about chips or fading colors, then lacquer paint is definitely worth considering. Color options: Lacquer paint is a popular choice for transforming furniture due to its durability, shine, and versatility. One of the key benefits of lacquer paint is the range of color options available. Whether you're looking for a bold statement piece or a subtle update, there are many colors to choose from. One option is to go with a classic white or black lacquer finish. These timeless colors provide a sleek and modern look that can complement any decor style. If you want to add some vibrancy to your furniture, consider using bright hues such as red, blue, or green. These colors provide the best coverage and can make your furniture pop and add personality to any room. If you prefer something more subdued,clear lacquer or pastel shades like blush pink or mint green may be more your style. These soft tones create an elegant yet understated look that can work well in both traditional and contemporary settings. Variety of color options available in lacquer paints Many people don’t realize that lacquer paint comes in a wide variety of colors, giving you plenty of options when it comes to selecting the perfect shade for your project. Whether you’re looking to give your dresser a sleek black finish or add a pop of color to your dining room table with a vibrant red lacquer, there are endless possibilities available when it comes to choosing the right color for your piece. In fact, many manufacturers offer customized color options, allowing you to create a truly unique look that perfectly complements your home décor. Cost comparison: Lacquer paint is a popular choice for furniture transformation projects, but it can also be one of the more expensive options out there. When trying to decide on the right lacquer paint for your project, it's important to consider a few key factors that will affect the cost. These factors could include things like brand reputation, quality of ingredients used in the product, and even where you purchase your chosen brand. How much does it cost to use lacquer paints compared to other options? One great way to get an accurate idea of how much you can expect to spend on lacquer paint is by doing some comparison shopping. Start by researching different brands online and reading reviews of lacquered surface from other DIY enthusiasts who have already tried them out. Pay attention to things like coverage, durability, and overall finish quality when evaluating each product. Another thing to keep in mind when comparing prices is that some brands may offer larger or smaller cans than others for similar price points. Conclusion: When it comes to transforming furniture, maybe musical instruments choosing the right paint is crucial. While there are many different types of paints available in the market, lacquer paint stands out as the best choice for furniture transformation. Lacquer paint is a type of coating that dries quickly, no brush marks and provides a smooth finish. It is an excellent choice for those who want to give their old furniture a new look. One of the reasons why lacquer paint is the best clear coat choice for furniture transformation is because it offers superior durability and protection against scratches and chips. Unlike other types of paints, lacquer does not easily peel off or crack with time. Additionally, lacquer dries much faster than other types of paints which means that you can complete your project in less time! Another advantage of using lacquer paint on your furniture is that it produces a glossy finish that looks fantastic on most surfaces whether for interior wood surfaces or an alternative for an outside paint job. Read the full article

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generalpandabasement · 1 year

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Introducing the best selection of automotive paint for your next project!

If you’re planning to do some touch up work on your car this weekend, we have the automotive paint you’ll need! We offer an excellent selection of aerosol spray paint in all colors and finishes, from base coats to clear coats, with all-important matching abilities, so you can be sure that the rest of your vehicle looks just as good as it did when it came out of the factory, if not better! Check out our online store today and find the right product for your project!

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What are the benefits of using automotive paint?

Paint is an essential part of any car's exterior, and with our wide selection, you're sure to find the perfect color. Automotive paint is also a great way to add some personality to your vehicle. It's super easy to apply and dries quickly, so there's no need to worry about it getting on anything else in your garage or on yourself. We even offer custom colors that allow you to match any color you want. Our vast range of paints includes lacquers, enamels, acrylics, clears and more to suit every budget.

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You'll never have to think twice about finding quality automotive paint again; we've got everything you need right here!

How to choose the right automotive paint for your project?

Choosing the right Automotive Paint Supplies is not as easy as picking up any aerosol can. There are so many different types and finishes to choose from, it can be overwhelming. We want to make it easier by narrowing down a few things you need to know when buying aerosol spray paint: whether you are painting a car or some other type of vehicle, what color you want your finish to be and how much durability you need. When choosing between paint types there are two options:

-OEM Finish - Has a smooth glossy look that is like new after being applied

-Flat Finish - Leaves an even matte appearance and doesn't fade as easily with weathering exposure

When deciding on the shade of your automotive paint, there are a number of factors to take into consideration including: the purpose you intend on using the car for (such as if it's just going to be used on sunny days) or if you're looking for something specific such as metallic or pearl.

Our top picks for the best automotive paint

Picking the right paint can be tricky. When you're choosing between a few types it's not so bad. But when faced with hundreds of options, it can take hours to figure out which one is right for you. To make things easier, we have narrowed down our top picks to some of our favorite brands and colors to get you started on your search! Let's start with the basics: spray paint or brush-on? Spray paints are quick and easy because they come in cans that are ready-to-go. You just point and shoot, which makes them great for people who don't like a lot of prep work before getting their hands dirty. Brush-on paints are good if you want more control over how much product comes out or what area you're painting.

How to apply automotive paint?

It is important to prepare a clean surface before painting. Washing with soap and water, or using a detergent like Simple Green, will remove dust and dirt from the surface. Then, use a dry cloth to wipe away any remaining moisture.

Next, spray an even coat of primer on the surface in one direction. Allow it to dry for 15-30 minutes, then follow up with two coats of color (or as many as needed). Allow each coat to dry completely before applying another coat. A heavy-duty paint roller can be used to spread the color evenly if desired. Don't forget about small nooks and crannies that may need some additional attention. To reduce surface tension and minimize brush marks, apply one or two light coats of clear enamel to the edges of panels that are not being primed. You should always start with a light sanding after priming if you plan on doing any other work around your vehicle such as body work/painting repairs; this will prevent sandpaper scratches which could show through your new finish.

#Automotive Paint Supplies Christchurch #2K Spray Paint Near Me #Panel Beating Supplies NZ #Car Touch Up Paint NZ #Pearl Yellow Car Paint #2K Paint NZ

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prolinekitchens · 1 year

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Make This Wholesale Cabinet Supply the Long-Lasting Pride & Delight of Your Kitchen

Ideas for cheap kitchen cabinets Online

While designing a kitchen, cabinetry is the single most expensive item. Designers and carpenters in the modular kitchen industry are always looking for novel cabinet supply solutions that maximize space and materials at the lowest possible cost." Even while wood is the obvious choice for everyone, it is pricey, and designers are increasingly providing homes alternatives like medium density fiberboard, particleboard, and other artificial possibilities.

Some of the most popular kitchen Wholesale Cabinet Supply designs are here, all of which are long-lasting and are the pride and delight of their owners.

Wood and synthetic materials are used in conjunction

This beautifully built contemporary kitchen with a single long counter inlaid with blue granite benefits from seamless design and lighting that creates more space. Stylish wide rectangular oak cabinets work in harmony with lacquered cabinets that are just as appealing. Because the surface is easier to clean and maintain, these cabinets are more cost-effective than maple or pine wood cabinets in terms of maintenance. You can find them easily in the Cabinet And Countertop Stores Near Me.

White has a beautiful symmetry to it

Continuing the rectangular flow of design in this kitchen, the cabinet design is also rectangular. Visitors often comment on how costly the finish on these cabinets is, implying that the owner must have spent thousands of dollars putting this modular kitchen together.

Material with an expensive appearance that is made of medium-density fiberboard that has been coated with a plastic coating and baked to give it a sealed, glossy finish

Combination of wood and glass that is both elegant and functional

With just one glance at this light brown and blue kitchen, which has plenty of natural light spilling onto the counter, anybody will fall in love with it. The stained wood cabinets lend elegance and beauty to the blue-tiled floor, as well as bring balance to the whole kitchen space.

Cabinets in a rustic style with a granite counter

In this contemporary kitchen with little ornamentation, guests would never suspect that the stylish cabinets in front of them are constructed from recycled wood. The door design of these cabinets is comparable to the unpolished granite slab in the kitchen, and they are also the same size, which helps to maintain their rustic symmetry.

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Kitchen cabinets with a painted finish and a granite backsplash

These soft maple cabinets with exquisitely painted doors and big metal knobs are simple to use, making them suitable for even the youngest users. With enormous, comparable white-colored cabinets on the wall within easy reach of the chef, the symmetry of the space has been preserved.

The grey granite counter and backsplash provide a pleasing contrast to the white cabinetry, while the stainless-steel sink adds a contemporary touch.

The Final Thought!

White cabinets are the best option if you want to create a basic but stylish kitchen. The textured tiles on the backsplash in this modular kitchen cabinet design establish a clear separation between the top and bottom cabinets while enhancing the overall appearance.

The use of plywood, which is not only are Cheap Kitchen Cabinets Online but also robust and moisture-resistant, is essential to this design's suitability for tiny kitchens.

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beelur · 3 years

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fish sculptures!

#made from some cheap air drying clay i had laying about #painted with acrylic #and glossy lacquer as final touch...#art #clay #goldfish #napoleon fish

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yungidreamer · 3 years

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Fragile

Summary: It’s fall in Paris and the jazz club Le Chat Noir is bored immortal vampire Yunho’s favorite hunting grounds. Among the crush of bodies, there to see the show and dance the night away, San takes a seat at his table. Will San get more than he bargained for when he accepts a drink and a dance with the handsome stranger at the hottest place in town?

Wordcount: 5.9k

Content warnings: very much NSFW, vampire bites and blood drinking, references to casual sex with multiple partners, slightly subby San, slightly dom Yunho, oral sex, hand job, the risk of death, and two hedonists seeking pleasure with each other. It is heavily implied that both San and Yunho are bi/pan in orientation.

La Chat Noir, Paris France, 1924

Music flowed through the air of the club, moving languorously as if the smoke in the air slowed its passage. A faint buzzing sound hid behind it thanks to the low light of the new fangled bulbs that were tucked into sconces on the walls that mimicked the old gas lights that had been in use a mere decade or so ago. Such a small amount of time, Yunho sighed. Some days he missed their constant hiss, that sound just felt...calming. Like a constant whisper, telling the secrets of the nightowls and scoundrels who stayed out in the city during those hours that belonged to people like him.

Still, the place was as good a hunting ground as he had ever found. People didn’t change. They were always chasing that moment of pleasure that made their short existence worthwhile. Always drinking, gorging and *ahem* loving their way through life as much as their status and circumstances would allow. So small, so finite, so… fragile. It was sad really. They seemed to struggle, at odds with the desire to live like they only had today while, nearly simultaneously, trying to live those mere 100 years some of them might have. If they were lucky. Though why they would want to live so long as their bodies deteriorated with each passing day was beyond him.

Eternity was bad enough with eternal youth. When you had to age. Yunho shuddered.

Pushing through the crush of youth, Yunho made his way towards the bar. The smell of bodies, sweat and skin, mixed with the tobacco of cigars and thin cigarettes all of the liberated women kept between their manicured fingers as they drank and laughed. Over that drifted the smell of whiskey, wine, and whatever spirits the bartenders were deciding to experiment with tonight.

Perfumes swam by on the air that surrounded their wearers. Musk, ambergris, vetiver, and hints of the sharp floral notes of women who still wore the classic rose or jasmine. With each one that passed Yunho couldn’t help but pause for half a second to see how well it matched the wearer. Was it a scent that accentuated the character of whoever it was on, or was it a mask; something false they put on as they tried to pretend, just for tonight they weren’t some nameless bookkeeper on the third floor of one of the new steel and glass monstrosities that reached vainly for the sky?

In the back of the last room he found a small round table, flicking over the little card that said Reserved as he took his seat. It was his table, it was always his table. From here he could watch the throngs kick and sway on the open dance floor, or the beautiful dancers as they performed their numbers to the music of the band. He absolutely loved their outfits, all silk and beading, showing so much of their delicate skin.

Maybe some things are improving with time, he reflected, sipping his Southside. Little of the taste came through to his taste buds, but the chill of the mint slid down his throat and the sharp tannin of the lime was tacky on his tongue. Plus, his trifles seemed to enjoy the freshness it brought to his lips and who was he to deny them that last… little… pleasure.

On the floor in the glare of the spotlight two sisters danced in unison in their feathers and silk. The rhinestones on their belts and cloche hats glinted as they moved to the music, flashing lushous stretches of their shapely legs. This was their third night performing at the club and word had gotten around. The club had filled just a little more with each passing night with everyone who wanted to catch the appropriately risque performance. Gentlemen brought their friends, and occasionally, the lady they hoped to sway with the low lights, the free music of the jazz, and the sensual movements of the dancers.

The more free spirited women came in small groups, and very occasionally, alone. Finally they were allowed to go out as they pleased, they could have jobs, smoke, and support themselves. The freedom was well deserved, if not always well or wisely used. Then again, who was he, or anyone else frankly, to tell them what to do with that freedom. Over the centuries he had certainly seen plenty of men squander that precious thing called freedom. Perhaps, if fate had changed by just a hair, he would have been one of the poor souls, living and dying in a flash, leaving barely a trace of his existence. But, fate had chosen a different path for him and instead he had seen centuries pass before him, time flowing like a rushing river. It was all much the same even if he could never step into the same stream twice.

“Do you mind if I sit here?” A voice asked, rising just high enough over the hum of the room to reach his ear. Yunho looked up to find a young man with sharp features standing near the back of the chair on the other side of the table. A quirk turned the corner of Yunho’s lips as he gave him an assessing look. It was brave of him to come and ask to share the table; it reeked of a confidence that Yunho liked.

“Please,” Yunho gestured to the chair, sitting up just a shade straighter. The young man nodded, gracefully slipping into the black lacquer chair. He was dressed in a fashionable suit in crisp black and white, perhaps stylish but not rich. Yunho didn’t think he had seen him before; he seemed like the sort he would have remembered. His hair was dark and glossy, almost like the chair he had taken a seat in. It was cut in a clean, modern style that made him look like he belonged in a place like this. His face was lovely, high cheekbones and smooth creamy skin that seemed to shine from the inside out with that warm glow that only health and youth could bestow.

“Are they as good as they have been hyped up to be?” The young man asked, keeping his narrow, dark eyes on the ladies in the spotlight.

“They are good,” Yunho agreed, leaning in so he didn’t have to raise his voice to be heard. He sipped from his glass, held with a blase confidence using only two fingers, eyes staying on his table companion.

“They’re beautiful,” He commented, sparing a glance for Yunho as he too leaned in towards the table.

“They’re pretty enough, and lovely in their shape,” Yunho agreed, though his eyes seemed unwilling to look back at the subjects of whom he spoke.

“The music is quite good as well, isn’t it?” He asked, trying not to look like he had noticed the gaze on him.

“It’s… intoxicating,” Yunho agreed. “Can I ask your name?”

“San,” the young man answered. “Choi San.”

“Hello San,” Yunho extended his free hand over the table to him. “I’m Yunho.”

“Nice to meet you,” San took the extended hand, giving it a firm, confident shake. Yunho held onto the warm hand just a couple of seconds longer than he ought to, enjoying the dry warmth of the other man’s palm in his. San let him, only drawing his hand back when Yunho let go.

“Are you new around here?” Yunho asked, curious about the man across from him for a number of reasons.

“Just moved here a few months ago,” San nodded. “Got my first job as a law clerk. The money is good enough and if I do well enough the prospects for promotion are good.”

“How fortunate you are,” Yunho smiled, tipping his glass to him encouragingly.

“My parents were happy enough,” San gave a small chuckle. “After all they spent on my education, they feel like I owe them nothing less.”

“Such dullards aren’t they,” Yunho commiserated. “Stuck in the past along with all of their ideas and mores.”

“Well, they certainly wouldn’t think a place like this is where I ought to be spending my time or money,” San agreed, happy to have found a comrade in arms.

“What’s the point in youth if you waste it shut in offices and school rooms,” Yunho asked rhetorically, a hand under his chin.

“Exactly,” San gave a single nod. “I work hard. I can spend my free time doing something fun, whatever that may be.”

“Is this your idea of fun?” There was a teasing edge to Yunho’s voice, like the cool touch of a blade as it brushed flesh without cutting it.

“Not sure yet,” San sat forward, giving Yunho an assessing look as he moved his chin to rest on the heel of his hand. “It’s my first time here, but at least the company seems promising.”

“Would you like something; a drink?” Yunho questioned, emptying the last of his drink from his glass.

“I can--” San started to stand before Yunho stopped him, simply raising a hand and, a moment later, almost as if she had been conjured from nothingness, a waitress appeared beside them.

“Two more,” Yunho said, passing her the empty glass. Without a word she nodded and walked away to do as she had been bid. It didn’t take long for their drinks to appear and Yunho picked his up, offering a silent toast to San before taking a sip. San followed suit, bringing the drink to his lips.

“This is quite good,” San said, looking at the drink again, after having had a taste.

“Isn’t it?” Yunho agreed. “Refreshing.”

“Yes,” San nodded, taking another sip as he noticed the light dim as the spotlight was snuffed. As the dancers left the floor he observed, “They were decent but maybe they didn’t quite live up to the hype.”

“Life rarely does,” a jadedness filled Yunho’s tone.

“Do you really find life here so dreary?” San felt a sympathy for him, slightly sad that the other man seemed to feel the world was so dull.

“Often,” Yunho admitted. “But sometimes there is a glimmer of intrigue to things.”

“I hope I won’t find myself so easily bored by the attractions of life here,” San chuckled.

“Don’t worry,” Yunho promised. “I’m a bit of a special case. I have perhaps seen too much to find fascination so easily anymore.” The band struck up again and the lights raised enough to allow people to get up and make their way onto the dance floor. Couples made their way out onto the floor that had been the platform for the performance. The low light and the slow jazz made the room feel small and intimate even as the couples brushed against one another on the dance floor.

“Would you like to dance with me?” Yunho asked, leaning as close as he could to whisper the question.

“Can we?” San’s eyes widened slightly at the suggestion.

“No one judges here,” Yunho assured him. “Look.” He gestured out to the floor and San’s gaze followed. Nestled in among the pairs of men and women were a few pairs of girls, arms clinging as they danced closely, and men swaying in each other's arms. Surprise flickered across San’s face. These things, they just weren’t usually done, and yet…

“Shall we?” Yunho stood up and extended a hand to San. For a beat, he just looked at it. Did he dare? Pressing his lips into a hard line, San stood up and took Yunho’s hand. With a victorious grin, Yunho led San out onto a dim corner of the dance floor.

San hadn’t noticed just how tall Yunho was when he was just sitting across from him. It was only when the other man pulled him more tightly against his body as they squeezed in among the other pairs, that he noticed how Yunho towered over him by a decent amount. San swallowed past his nerves and snaked his arms around the other man’s waist and chest.

Yunho held him close, pressing the side of his jaw to the other man’s temple and breathing in the smell of him. Everything about San was warm and vibrant including his scent. He wore no cologne, not trying to disguise himself or be anything more than he was. Beneath the faint smell of soap was the scent of him, of his skin. Cedar and sage with notes of grapefruit and lime, and somewhere below that was something warm and masculine… like the old leather of an armchair in a study that had taken on a hint of the cigars that had been smoked there over the years.

Yunho’s mouth practically watered, knowing that San would taste so very good. He would be warm and nourishing, bringing Yunho that little step closer to feeling alive again. It wasn’t that he missed that fragile mortality that he had lost so long ago. Rather he loved that heat. The borrowed, clandestine taste of vitality. He could have both if he chose; immortality and that feel of his heart beating in his chest. Well, for a moment at least.

One song bled into a second and a third as an hour ticked by nearly unnoticed by the pair. The couples around them came and went, getting a little more drunk and a little more boisterous as the time passed.

“Would you like to go somewhere?” Yunho murmured into the shell of San’s ear before pulling back and hooking his finger under San’s chin to bring his eyes up to meet his own. San gave a brief nod and Yunho smiled, leaning down to brush a barely there kiss to the corner of San’s mouth.

“Your place?” Yunho proposed, offering an inviting smile. San nodded again, his gaze falling hungrily to Yunho’s lips. Leading the way through the crowd, Yunho took them both out onto the street, hailing the first passing cab.

Yunho pressed San back against the door to his apartment in the dimly lit hall of his floor. He let out a small moan as he fumbled in his pocket for the key he knew was there. Yunho’s lips on his were insistent even as they moved at a leisurely pace against his own. San had always had wants, desires, but never dared to act on them. Women were pretty, they were attractive, too, but there had always been that part of him that couldn’t help but watch as a confident man walked by. That confident swagger of a guy who knew exactly how sexy he was; it just set something in his stomach tingling.

San pulled away when he finally felt the cool metal in his palm, just enough to work the key in the lock with his slightly shaking hands. The door popped open and Yunho pushed them both inside the small studio that was San’s place. It was dim, only lit at the moment by the shine of the streetlights outside the single window on the wall opposite the door. Clicking the door closed behind them, Yunho pulled San tightly against him. He was hungry for him in more way than one.

San groped for the switch on the wall, reluctant to pull away from the embrace of the other man. He was afraid if he gave them too much space, a second to think at just the wrong moment, whatever was going to happen… wouldn’t. Giving up on the switch, San guided the other man towards the small brass framed bed located towards one side of the room. He pulled him along, guiding him without pulling away until he felt the edge of the frame hit the back of his calves. Dropping to a sitting position on the bed, San started fumbling with the button at the waist of Yunho’s pants.

“There’s no rush,” Yunho chuckled, putting his long elegant fingers over San’s, stilling them.

“Sorry,” San said quietly, thankful for the darkness that would hide his blush, or it would have, to someone other than a vampire. Yunho found it charming, almost quaint, how eager and yet shy he was. This clearly wasn’t a regular thing for him, unlike Yunho. It wasn’t that any warm body was good, but almost any would do and some he felt better about leaving half drained in some dark room than others. He’d try to be careful with San, after all, it might actually be nice to see him again sometime and that couldn’t happen with a body in the morgue.

Yunho took a seat, the springs of the bed creaking under their combined weight. Leaning in, Yunho cupped San’s cheek, guiding his face back to his for another kiss. San gladly leaned in to his slightly chilled lips, something he attributed to the chill of the fall weather outside.

Yunho’s fingers brushed over his cheek and down to hold the side of his neck, feeling the soft, warm pulse just below. Following the same path as his fingers, Yunho’s lips brushed over the flushed skin until he found the right place. He licked, his teeth gently running over it, testing the other man’s reaction. The last thing he needed was to have him pull away, rip the tender flesh of his own neck open with a careless yank. When San only moaned and tilted his head to give the other man better access, Yunho took that as permission to have just a little taste.

As he sucked in a small bit of San’s flesh into his mouth his hand traveled down over the other man’s chest to tentatively rest on the growing erection still hidden beneath the soft wool of his suit. San sucked in his breath but didn’t pull away. Yunho bit down, feeling the trickle of blood spill into his mouth as he palmed San’s member. He felt it twitch as he fed from him, pleasure slinking through him with each gulping tug of Yunho’s mouth as he drank. He needed just enough for now, enough to warm his skin and fill his aching member to fullness. Tonight he wanted to have everything. With a lick he closed the cuts on San’s neck and pulled back to look at him, still flushed, still beautiful in his youthfulness.

San took a deep breath, the ripples of pleasure still rebounding in him. He couldn’t help but wonder why he had stopped. Had he done something wrong. Feeling inexplicably tired, he had to make an effort to open his eyes and look up into the gaze of the man beside him. Yunho smiled down at him with lips that San would swear looked a little sweeter, a little fuller, a little pinker than they had a few moments ago. It’s the aphrodisiac of the pleasure, it’s all in your head, he told himself.

“Can I touch you?” San asked, his dark eyes searching Yunho’s for signs that he was having second thoughts.

“Please,” Yunho agreed, guiding San’s hand to his now full erection. San went to his knees on the oak parquet that covered the floor of his apartment. His fingers, still feeling a little shaky, went to the warm black bone button that held the waistband of Yunho’s pants closed. It only took a second for him to slip the fastening through the slit in the fine fabric. With his fly open, Yunho lifted his hips to allow San to pull the clothes on the lower half of his body down and off, letting them pool around his ankles as the other man took a moment to gather his courage. Not yet ready to look up as butterflies fluttered in his stomach, San took a moment to gently pull off Yunho’s shoes, socks, and pants, carefully placing them near the foot of the bed on the floor. He turned, finally looking up to see Yunho, his shirt half unbuttoned from his collar down, leaning back casually, his long, hard dick framed by the inverted V from the last button on the placket as it opened down to the lower hem. He had never seen anything so tempting in his life. From the muscled smoothness of his chest and the breadth of his still covered shoulders, to his thick muscular thighs, Yunho was temptation.

“Won’t you taste me?” Yunho asked, running the fingertips of one hand up the inside of his thigh. San nodded, scooting forward and sitting on his heels to bring himself just a little higher between Yunho’s legs. Using one hand for leverage, San wrapped the other around the base of Yunho’s cock and brought it to his lips. He had never tasted another man, but, having been on the other end of such a thing more than once, he had a fair idea of where to start. Taking just the head into his mouth, he swirled his tongue around the tip. Yunho let out the sweetest low, rumbling moan San had ever heard.

The hand on Yunho’s thigh dropped so that San could reach down and stroke himself lightly, needing just a little relief, a little sensation as he strained against his pants. When Yunho’s hand caressed his cheek, San opened his eyes to look at him up the plane of his body. A shock of lust pooled in his stomach and he slid his mouth further down, watching pleasure flow across the features of the other man, lit only in profile from the dim light outside. The dimness and quiet of the room somehow made every sound, every movement just that shade more intense.

“You have a wonderful mouth,” Yunho complemented, a breathlessness suffusing his voice. Part of San wanted to say thank you, but most of him just wanted to show the other man just how good his mouth was. Sinking down until the tip brushed against the back of his throat, San tested his limits. He wanted all of him, he wanted to devour him with pleasure, but Yunho was not small. He wasn’t even average, if San would have taken a guess based on himself and on peeks he had gotten of others. Yunho was big, and even when he had sunk down until he felt him fill his mouth and brush the soft skin at the back of his throat, he had barely taken 2/3rds of him in.

San bobbed up and down a few more times, practicing letting his jaw move loosely over Yunho’s length as he built up a slick of saliva that eased his movements. Trying again, San sunk down to see how far he could go, pushing past that discomfort to feel the head slide down against the back of his throat. A tickle built in his throat and tears pooled in his eyes as he pulled off to cough.

“It’s okay, sweets,” Yunho leaned forward, cradling San’s teary cheeks in his hands. “I know I’m big, it feels good even if you can’t take it all.”

“I—” San started before the tickle built back up and he had to cough again, sniffling as his nose ran slightly from the sensation and his tears. “I know, but I like the feel of you, I like the way you slide into me.”

“Just don’t force yourself,” Yunho agreed, swiping away the tears with the pads of his thumbs. “We have time and those sweet lips feel wonderful wrapped around me.” San nodded, blinking away the blur to his vision a few more times before he parted his lips and took Yunho back in his mouth, a little more cautiously this time.

Sliding his head up and down what he could take of his length, San sucked and licked and tasted the salty treat that was Yunho. As he worked him, he could taste the gooey tang of his pre-cum coating his tongue now and again as his pleasure built. Yunho watched him, eyes hooded as the sight of San throwing himself into what he was doing with near abandon added to the rising tide of pleasure that was flooding him.

San still pushed himself, diving down the length of Yunho until he couldn’t struggle past his length and gagged or had his throat spasm at the invasion. Each time Yunho groaned, often twitching at the sensation of the muscles in San’s throat stroking him. When he managed to slide him particularly far down his throat he was rewarded with the sight of Yunho throwing his head back and letting out a breathless gasp.

“Ahh, fuck,” he panted, one hand gripping the sheets and another fisting in San’s soft hair. “I’m close… I’m so close.” San took this as encouragement, moving faster, then, going as deeply as he could and pausing for as long as his body would let him. It took only a few times of San repeating this to push Yunho over the edge and he was rewarded with the feel of the pulsing gush of the other man coming down his throat. It was warm and slick and moved slowly as it slid down into him, savoring the sensation.

“You’re an angel,” Yunho praised, guiding San off him and bringing his pink, swollen lips to his own for a kiss. He licked away a little of the saliva that glistened on the lower lip of the man still kneeling between his legs. He could still taste a little of himself there as well, an enchanting addition to the sweetness of the other man’s hot lips.

“Can you touch me?” San asked, steadying himself by putting his hands on Yunho’s spread knees.

“Come sit with me,” Yunho coaxed. San nodded, wiping the dampness off his chin and he pulled himself up. He started to move to take a seat beside Yunho on the bed, but, catching him by the wrist, the other man guided him to sit between his spread legs. Yunho’s hands went to San’s chest, pressing him back against him. San relaxed in his arms enjoying just the moment of being held in the other man’s long and lean arms.

“Do you mind if I undress you?” Yunho asked, running his hand down over San’s taught stomach. San nodded, using his own hand to press Yunho’s more firmly against his own body. Yunho chuckled, pressing a kiss to the other man’s temple before he freed his hands to start working on removing the slightly rumpled looking suit. His fingers were quick and efficient with the buttons at the front of his shirt, flicking them open with barely any effort. When the shirt was completely open, Yunho slid it and the jacket off San’s muscular shoulders, bearing his smooth and muscular chest to the room. Yunho hooked them both to the nob of the headboard, letting them hang so they wouldn’t get any more wrinkled than they already were. When that was done, he brought his hands back to San’s smooth body, letting his palms run over the line of his ribs and down to his hips, before making their way forward to the fastening at the front of his pants. Yunho couldn’t stop himself from running a teasing hand over the front of his trousers to feel the tempting length just barely hidden there.

“Lift for me,” Yunho instructed when he had undone San’s pants and hooked his thumbs into the waistband of both his pants and underwear. San eagerly lifted his hips, pushing his weight onto his hands and feet to allow Yunho to slide the fabric down and let his erection spring forth. When he put his weight back down, Yunho pulled him back into the V of his thighs and against his half bared chest as San kicked off the last of his clothes.

“Can… can you take off your shirt?” San asked without turning around, having felt the abrasion of the round buttons against his shoulder blade.

“Of course,” Yunho pressed a kiss to San’s bare shoulder, then leaned back enough to finish opening the last of the buttons before taking his shirt off and tossing it onto one corner of the foot of the bed. With both of them fully naked, Yunho scooted back until he could feel the wall against his back, scooping San into the cradle of his body so that he could resume his exploration of his form.

“Please touch me,” San breathed, leaning his head back against Yunho’s broad shoulder. “It feels like I’ve been waiting so long.” San’s restless hands moved up and down the textured length of Yunho’s hard thighs.

“I will, sweet,” Yunho soothed. “I just want to get to know you.” San could feel the smile that pressed against the side of his face as Yunho spoke. He felt harder than he could ever remember feeling and his body begged for release. Yunho could sense his impatience. It was written into every squirm and the tense line of his body. “Shhhhh,” he soothed, rubbing his nose in the loose locks of San’s hair.

“Just hold me, there,” he pleaded, guiding Yunho’s hand to his length. “You don’t have to move yet, but just touch me.”

“Alright,” Yunho agreed, his hand loosely gripping San’s hot, hard erection. It was soft under his hand, like velvet or suede covered steel. San let out a tense sigh, closing his eyes and enjoying the way Yunho’s slightly cooler hand seemed to envelop him. Keeping his grip light, Yunho moved his hand up and down, letting that first hint of sensation tingle over San’s nerves, half teasing and half relief. His other hand held San to him on his chest, just the tip of one finger moving to abrade the hardened nipple it could reach. Goosebumps rose on San’s skin and he shivered under the combination of sensations. San’s fingers gripped Yunho’s thighs just above the knees with a careless strength that would have left fingermark bruises on anyone else. Luckily Yunho couldn’t bruise, not that easily at least, and he loved the feedback that was telling him he was touching him just right.

“Tilt your head a little,” Yunho coaxed. “I want to reach your neck.”

San gladly tilted his head to the side, his member twitching just at the memory of the sensation of whatever he had done to his neck before. Yunho brushed his lips over the pulse in San’s neck as he began to move his hand a little faster, his grip just a little tighter as he did so. San moaned and shifted impatiently under the touch. Everything felt so good and he wasn’t sure why. It hadn’t been that long since he had been satisfied and by more than just his own hand. And it had been good, she had been good. The faint memory of sucking a soft nipple on the soft mound of a breast fluttered through his mind, as transient and insubstantial as a leaf caught in the draft of a strong gust that dies as quickly as it rose.

The sensation of Yunho running the pad of his thumb over the slick slit of his tip brought him back to the present. San sighed, his toes curling at the sensation. Pleasure washed through him, stealing his breath and stopping his mind from focusing on anything outside of the circle of Yunho’s arms.

Yunho’s lips teased the soft skin just under San’s ear, taking in his scent as he waited for the moment to bite. He wanted to feed at the moment he came, extending that pleasure and sweetening the taste of his blood with the rush of adrenaline and delight. Slowly increasing the pace of his movements, he varied his attention between stroking the whole length and giving the tip special attention, careful to not go to the point of over stimulating it.

“I’m so close,” San brought a hand up to hold the back of Yunho’s head as his lips sucked harder at the skin of his neck. “Please, whatever you did before, I want it again.”

“Patience, sweet,” Yunho hummed against him. “Almost there. Almost.” In a moment the pleasure suddenly crested and San held his breath as that first second of pleasure shocked through him before Yunho bit down. The bite magnified the sensation, making it reverberate through him with the resonance of a pitchfork struck against a hard surface.

Yunho sucked and fed, pulling every ounce of pleasure he could from San as he did so. San seemed frozen under his touch, unable to do more than just feel the power and the delight as it danced along every nerve in his body. It only faded as his limbs grew heavy and black spots began to float in patches in his vision.

Yunho closed the wounds and pulled away when he felt and heard that tell-tale stutter in the beat of San’s heart. He could continue. He could draw out that pleasure until the thudding stopped. It would be so easy and San was such a willing victim. He would never find it in himself in that moment to utter the word stop. It just felt too good. But Yunho did, he pulled back, holding San as he went limp, losing consciousness and falling into a blackness that was deep and quiet.

His heartbeat was slow but steady and Yunho was relatively certain that he would wake sometime tomorrow, perhaps sore and surprised to feel so hungover when he only had that one drink. Yunho gently laid him down in the bed, drawing the covers up over his beautiful naked body, making sure that he was in something that looked like a comfortable position. As he looked down, in his chest, his heart moved faintly in something that could almost be mistaken for beating. Almost.

Picking up his clothes, he carefully redressed, trying to look his best, despite a few wrinkles and creases that were too stubborn to be pulled or brushed away. He paused at a mirror, smoothing down his hair again, leaving it almost looking untouched by the events of the night. Casting a glance back at the man lying so prettily unconscious in the bed, Yunho couldn’t help but smile.

Going over to the desk, Yunho shuffled through a few drawers before he found a small pad of paper with a page he could rip out to scribble something.

I hope the morning finds you well, he wrote in a flowing hand that belied his age if someone paid enough attention. If you ever feel like a repeat performance, you know where to find me. He signed the bottom of the page with an ornate Y before picking up the page and folding it in half. Taking a moment, he neatly arranged San’s discarded clothes in the hopes it would make his morning just a little bit more pleasant. He pocketed the key taking it from San’s pocket where he had slipped it after letting them in. Taking the note, he slipped it into one of San’s shoes, sure that it would be secure there and not lost in the shuffle of papers that might belong on one of the counters in his home.

With one last caress of the other man’s cheek, Yunho stood up and quietly made his way to the front door. Slipping out into the hall, he clicked the door shut behind him, turning the key in the lock before dropping it back inside though the mail slot. With a fresh vigor and a skip in his step, and with the faint smell of cedar and sage clinging to him, Yunho made his way out of the apartment building and onto the cool, damp streets of Paris in fall. It really had been the best night he’d had in ages. With any luck, someday soon, that sweet, fragile man would step back into Le Chat Noir and back into his life. Until then, he’d have to be satisfied with other passing fancies and the memory of a very lovely night.

Masterlist

#jeong yunho #choi san #ateez smut #ateez scenarios #ateez #halloween #ateez the black cat nero #vampire yunho #yunho x san #kpop smut #kpop scenarios #yunho #san

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fromthedust · 3 years

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DANCE IN RED II

gypsum compound, wood, acrylic, dichroic glass, colored glass, unglazed ceramic, gold leafing, cast aluminum, lacquer - 32½"x 8⅝"x 1¾"

This is one of several sculptural paintings I did for a show here in the local museum on the theme of RED. I built the wooden cradles with white pine 1x2s and 1/8-inch plywood scraps — whatever size the plywood scraps were became the size and shape of the cradle. Then I mixed-up and applied ‘compo’ — a compound that I had used as a custom picture framer back in the ‘90s. There are many recipes for making compo, usually involving gypsum plaster for body and some sort of water-based liquid (white glue/latex paint/polymer medium) as a binder. The particular mix for this was about 2 parts plaster, 1½ parts water, ½ part mostly Elmer’s Glue with some acrylic Flowtrol paint conditioner mixed-in. The compo is mixed and applied fairly quickly as the plaster starts to set within 15 or 20 minutes. At first it goes on fairly liquid lick a thick paint, but very soon it has more of a peanut butter consistency which is where most of the texture is created. The upper part in red was done with strokes of my fingers, then towards the bottom I came back with a couple of sizes of toothed chisels dragged through the thickening compo to create the ridged textures. Then the cradle covered in compo is let to set the plaster and then allowed to dry for several days. After all the water has dried-out the compo feels the same temperature as the table it rests upon — if it feels cooler than the table it needs to dry longer.

When completely dry the compo is coated with several coats of a clear acrylic polymer medium like Minwax Polycrylic to seal it. Then acrylic artist’s colors are used to paint it — usually I apply the colors in layers. In this case the whole surface was painted red and when the red had dried I came back with flat black latex which I came back and rubbed off with a clean rag while it was still fresh to allow the red to come through on the high points. When the black had dried completely I came in and cut the rectangular slot in the upper portion, touching up the red on the edges to match. On the back side I built a little box to hold the gold-leafed ceramic with the textured surface, and on which rests the wavy dichroic glass rod. The red ceramic square was fitted so as to appear to float above the surface of the painted compo, as was the cast aluminum ‘spill’ on bottom left. The tiny red glass rod was fitted protruding out from under the spill, and a horizontal stroke of gold leaf applied on top.

Clear gloss lacquer was applied to two rectangular areas on the flat black to contrast with the matte surface, making it appear darker. The smaller rectangle of lacquer was made to appear to overlap the red ceramic square by washing a glossy black on the upper left corner of the matte red square.

The final step was to attach the edge-polished black glass strip (with a little bit of sandblasted frosting at left) onto the compo (the painted surface of the compo was carved away slightly to bare compo, then silicone was used to adhere the glass in place.

#my artwork #art by me #sculptural painting #Don Dougan #compo #red

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virlath · 4 years

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Sera and the small painted box

One of the burning questions I’ve had since DAO is, what exactly was inside the painted box we stole from First Enchanter Irving’s room in the Circle Tower?

I had an epiphany the other day reading more into The Calling, and what follows is a pretty wild theory about Sera, the small painted box, red lyrium, and her connection to Andruil.

spoilers for everything, get your popcorn, and byo tin foil; the rabbit hole goes deep.

The small painted box

Before the Inquisition and during the events of DAO, Sera was around ten years old, ‘playing with small painted boxes and burying stuff [she] stole’ in Denerim.

Based on her dialogue in DAI, it is strongly hinted the small painted box as part of the Friends of Red Jenny quest in Origins is associated to Sera’s childhood.

The quest seems like a standard fetch and deliver quest and it starts when you find a small painted box in First Enchanter Irving’s personal room in the Circle Tower.

You then find the following note on a traveler when you are ambushed by Zevran:

The task was never promised to be easy. You said you could enter the Circle Tower, and you were believed. Find the small painted box in First Enchanter Irving's office and deliver it to the door marked in Denerim as agreed, or be prepared to find yourself hunted across Ferelden.

--Friends of Red Jenny

(There is a sketched map of several doors. It requires the box to be placed on it to block out false leads.)

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A large shadow and a child’s laugh can be heard from behind the door when the deal is done, a clear hint that Sera was involved in this quest somehow. (also note the large shadow and change in air pressure when the door is opened...). After delivering the box, the quest is complete and you go on your merry way.

But what if the quest was something more? The item in the box was clearly important enough to warrant a manhunt if the person failed to deliver as promised.

What if the entire quest was a blip in a string of events throughout history hinting at bigger schemes going on behind the scenes?

What if what was being carted around and stolen by the Jennies was in fact an enchanted red lyrium dagger previously used by First Enchanter Remille in The Calling?

The ebony black dagger

The Calling by David Gaider is a prequel book to DAO and recounts Maric’s journey into the deep roads as his party uncovers the Architect’s plans prior to the events of Origins/Awakening.

To cut a long story short, an ebony black dagger is a major plot item in the book, used by Duncan in the final battle to defeat First Enchanter Remille who was using blight magic taught to him by the Architect.

Reading the story with the hindsight of DAI and Tevinter Nights, I am convinced the ebony dagger in The Calling is made from the same type of magic as the red lyrium idol. I also think there is a good chance the ebony dagger is what was contained within the painted box that we stole from Irving’s room and delivered to the Red Jennies.

Duncan first steals this dagger from Remille’s room in the Circle’s tower at the start of the book. A reminder that the story is set in 9:10 Dragon, 30+ years before the events of DAO.

Duncan was about to start searching the desk more carefully when something tucked away at the bottom of the wardrobe caught his eye. Something glittering amid a pile of rolled-up linens. Hidden. A slow smile crept across his face as he knelt down and moved some of the rolls aside. This revealed a red lacquered box, longer than it was wide and with a small golden lock. Very fancy, the sort of thing one might keep jewelry in, he thought.

Ignoring any warning thoughts about magical protection, he examined the lock closely and then reached into his belt to retrieve two fine pieces of wire. The lockpick was small enough to do the job, he figured, and as he quietly plucked away at the lock mechanism he was pleased to see he was right. It resisted him with click sounds until finally it gave way and released. Cautiously, he pulled it out and opened the lid of the box, half expecting it to explode.

It didn’t. Duncan gasped as he looked in the box to see an ebony-black dagger lying upon red silk. The entire dagger seemed to have been carved from a single piece of glossy stone, looking almost as if it was made of glass. Was it obsidian? He had heard of such a material but never actually seen it before. The hilt was beautiful, delicate ridges leading up to a pommel carved into a roaring dragon’s head. As he lifted it out gingerly, he saw what looked like red veins within the black blade, tiny cracks along its surface. He would have thought it was blood, but running his finger along the side told him it was perfectly smooth. Not a stain or blemish.

Now this was worth stealing. This was something special, something that the First Enchanter prized enough to hide within his own chambers...

Chuckling with amusement, Duncan slid the blade into his shirt. Where the smooth metal touched his skin he felt a tingle. Not unpleasant, and almost warm. It made him like the weapon all the more.

Read the entire excerpt above and compare the description to the red lyrium idol in the 2018 teaser...

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..and tell me THE DAGGER AND THE IDOL ARE NOT MADE OF THE SAME THING.

Also, note the red lacquered box the dagger is found in.

This is a pretty big deal - not only because it’s now obvious red lyrium enchanted items have clearly been floating around a lot longer than I thought (way before the fifth blight even), but also because there is a very good chance Sera has come in contact with the same red lyrium enchanted dagger in her childhood.

Whether this was by fate, chance, or something else (Andruil perhaps? I’ll get to her later) is anyone’s guess, but I have a hunch her biggest fear, the Nothing (or the Void), is connected to her mysterious past and the reason why she is so scared of confronting her truth.

Prior to this revelation, I always assumed Sera’s painted boxes were like a child’s hobby to pass time. But there is actually nothing in lore stopping the boxes from being containers for stolen items, including being a red lacquered box.

The Jennies have been around for well over a hundred years (possibly longer) and Sera somehow rose in the ranks at a very young age. Could her involvement in procuring this item as well as her natural talent for bows sped up her promotions?

The thing that sells this theory to me is that First Enchanter Irving actually replaces Remille after he is defeated in The Calling.

It is easy to assume Irving inherited Remille’s magical belongings including the box and the dagger. Coincidentally, the painted box is found in the First Enchanter’s room both times.

Furthermore, the Red Jennies in DAO clearly knew whatever was inside this box was important, and they were very specific with their instructions.

You said you could enter the Circle Tower, and you were believed. Find the small painted box in First Enchanter Irving's office and deliver it to the door marked in Denerim as agreed, or be prepared to find yourself hunted across Ferelden.

Remember during the time of the fifth blight, literally no one knew anything about red lyrium, let alone the blight or even darkspawn for that matter. Most people were even dismissing the idea of a blight entirely! So how was it that the Jennies knew this dagger was significant enough to warrant a manhunt over it?

Enchanted red lyrium

While we’re on the topic of the dagger, let’s talk about red lyrium for a bit.

Thus far only enchanted red lyrium has been able to nullify the effects of the blight/red lyrium. This can be seen with Sandal’s rune in DA2, Dagna’s rune in DAI on Samson’s armour, and possibly even in Tevinter Nights to nullify the piece of the Black City, called Dumat’s Folly.

I’m convinced the ebony dagger is similarly made of enchanted red lyrium, because Remille initially allied with the Architect on the premise they would taint the entire world, but he never planned to follow through with it. He was only interested in the power of blight magic, and so needed a way to counter the Architect to betray their alliance.

In the final battle against him, no ordinary magic could counteract Remille’s spells. Only Duncan was able to slice through the shadows with the ebony black dagger before it ‘consumed him’.

Desperate, he stabbed at the shadow with his dagger. Better to carve off his own flesh than be eaten whole by this magic. To his surprise, he didn’t stab himself. The moment the blade so much as touched the shadow, they recoiled from it. He began pressing the blade with frenzied haste against his body wherever the darkness touched him, and each time it retreated.

Within moments he had escaped, backing against a wall and breathing rapidly. Terror raced through him as he stared at the inky black pool that lay just a foot from him, now sizzling.

...The dagger almost pulsated now. He stared at it as realization slowly dawned on him. He had stolen this from the First Enchanter’s quarters, something the man had hidden away...he’d hidden it from the prying eyes of the templars and the other mages. It was made of the same magic that the Architect had taught him!

...

The mage unleashed a sphere. It flew at Duncan, making a shrieking sound as it sailed through the air, and when it reached him he closed his eyes and swiped at it with the dagger.The shrieking turned into a burst of sound that resembled a wail, and he felt a wave of coldness wash over his skin. It was like being dunked into a freezing pool of water, but he didn’t slow and he wasn’t hurt.

The dagger’s enchantment also protected Duncan from the brooches Remille gave to the party at the start of the book to ‘hide them from darkspawn'. The brooches did work as intended, but unbeknownst to them the brooches also accelerated the taint within the wardens which allowed the Architect to track them easily.

This was why Duncan hadn’t been affected by his brooch like the others had. His skin had never corrupted, he’d never heard the Calling, all because the dagger’s enchantment had protected him.

To be clear, it’s never explicitly stated what the painted box in DAO looked like or if anything was even in the box, however I would guess it probably does contain the dagger considering it was left in Remille’s chest after he is killed. Presumably it was later retrieved when the tower was cleaned up and forgotten about thereafter.

I do wonder why Duncan never thinks to retrieve the dagger for inspection though, considering he and Fiona are later recalled to Weisshaupt to report on the Architect’s powers. The wardens take an interest in studying the brooches Remille gave them, so it’s bit of a mystery as to why they didn’t think to inspect the dagger as well. Duncan isn’t a mage so perhaps he wrote it off as some custom enchantment Remille cooked up and tied to him personally.

And to be fair, no one really had much first-hand knowledge of fighting the darkspawn and the blight for centuries before this, so maybe it was simply an oversight from everyone. Blight magic was and still is a huge mystery because rarely anyone has seen it and lived to tell the tale. The dagger also only activates around blight magic so to most people it would just look like a static glossy black dagger (with red veins through it).

Where did the dagger come from and why did Remille have it in his possession?

It is never explained how Remille obtained the ebony black dagger in the first place, but given the fact he first met the Architect in the Fade I’m going to guess a separate third party got wind of his alliance and offered him an alternative deal.

Perhaps the Red Jennies were involved behind the scenes and they helped plant the dagger in Remille’s room. Perhaps the mastermind behind this scheme hinged their bets on the assumption Remille would choose sole power over an alliance with the Architect because that is what they expected him to do.

Taking this idea one step further, I believe the mastermind behind this could very well be Flemeth herself, who warned Maric a blight was coming way back in The Stolen Throne. Remember, she’s been around a long time and knows the hearts of men.

"Men's hearts hold shadows darker than any tainted creature."

How could she have known about a future blight if she did not have prior knowledge of the Architect’s plans?

Personally, I believe she has been playing a long game of “chess” with various third parties throughout history (the “Old Gods”) in an attempt to seek out her revenge/end-game.

The issue of the blight is the most pervasive problem in Thedas and it’s becoming increasingly clear to me that Flemeth’s main opponents in all of this are the “old god” whisperers who have been whispering in the minds of men since the veil was created.

I think the Architect (and the rest of the darkspawn magisters) are pawns to higher beings impersonating the Old Gods with the end goal of tainting the entire world. The old god dragons are a different matter entirely - third parties caught between the power struggle of blight vs. no blight, and are unfortunately for them, magically sealed within their prisons underground.

Solas loathes the idea of the Grey Wardens killing off the old gods preemptively the instant he catches wind of it, yet this same idea is explored by the Architect way before the Fifth Blight. I believe Flemeth and Solas are on the same page with regards to this and they both know slaying the Old Gods preemptively is a bad idea.

Flemeth says herself she nudges history, or shoves it when required. But she also says things happened that were never meant to happen.

Perhaps she tried stopping the fifth blight by making the enchanted dagger available to Remille, but the unknown factored in and the Architect managed to get away before he could be killed.

When the Architect preemptively started the fifth blight by awakening Urthemiel, she sent Morrigan with the HoF so she had a chance to preserve the old god soul.

And after the events of DAI, her ‘shove’ to history is passed on to her lackey, Solas, because all her chips have been lined up in the previous 40+ years of plotting and manipulating.

As for the dagger in question, a few questions remain.

Do the Red Jennies still have the dagger in their possession and where is it now?

Did Sera come into contact or use this dagger at any point after the HoF delivered it in Denerim?

Will the dagger come into play in the future as an alternative way to counteract blighted creatures or even Solas or the evanuris?

Does the red lyrium idol act similarly to the ebony dagger, given the fact it has been described as a ritual blade in Tevinter Nights and possibly was the weapon Merrill spoke of in DA2??? Massive implications if so.

Sera is an echo of Andruil

I am convinced Sera is a wisp or echo of Andruil and she’s retained jumbled up bits of her memories and abilities from ancient Elvhenan.

The theory has already been well explained in great detail here so I encourage you to check it out:

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Sera’s connection to the ebony dagger from The Calling is very suspicious to me, because there is strong evidence Andruil had been dabbling with the blight and the Void, so much so Mythal had to steal her memories from her to cure her ‘insanity’.

If Sera hosts even a wisp of Andruil (which I strongly believe she does), was Andruil ‘killed’ like Mythal at some point in time and is only now just reforming as Sera?

Is Andruil now trying to help rid the world of the blight instinctively after seeing the devastation it caused first hand?

I disagree with the notion that Sera being Andruil cheapens her character. To be honest when I first heard the theory I didn’t want to buy into it either. It felt too convenient and on-the-nose. But there are simply too many coincidences and foreshadowing that I can’t ignore anymore. There is definitely something special about Sera.

If anything having this theory confirmed would strengthen her overall character arc and the DA universe as a whole to me, because there is still so much potential for her character by the end of Trespasser. Solas says himself, when spirits die they can reform if their spirit form was strong or if the memory was shaped by other spirits.

Sera is a character that is easy to hate but in my opinion, one of the most self aware and insightful characters in the series. She says herself around the start of the game that she wants to see what’s true for herself.

She was raised as an Andrastian but deep down she knows there’s more. If you read her journal her problems reconciling her religious upbringing is constantly on her mind.

If Andruil really did have her memories stolen by Mythal and her memories are now slowly coming back, triggered by the events of DAI, the big question is whether or not she can eventually face her greatest fear of the Nothing (the Void) to move forward and come to terms with her past self- a part of her she is clearly trying to lock away.

With the blight and red lyrium looming over Thedas, if Sera were to confront her nightmares and memories based on Andruil’s prior knowledge, she could be a very useful ally to have in uncovering Solas’ motives and objectives, how to navigate the Void, and potentially even help to stop the blight.

Personally, I have always felt Andruil was one of the gods who actually wanted to do good, but was manipulated by the people around her for power and so she eventually succumbed to the institution she was in.

Perhaps Sera’s spirit is Andruil but also something more - an echo that actually remembers its past and what it was like to be corrupted by power because that memory and experience left such a strong impression.

Perhaps Mythal’s sapping of her strength and her reformation in Sera finally allowed her a chance to reflect on her past actions and make instinctive decisions to be a part of the Red Jennies and join the Inquisition to protect the little people instead.

This would explain why Sera hates nobles so much, and why she asks a romanced Inquisitor for reassurance they are still themselves at the end of it all. ‘I just need you to stay you’.

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She’s seen power corrupt people first-hand and this is why she believes in the chaotic, undefined hierarchies of the Red Jennies, because she doesn’t believe in glorified rulers with nobles at the top anymore. Which funnily enough, is very much in line with Solas’ thinking.

Remaining questions on her I would love to see addressed in the future:

What was the shadow behind the door in Denerim with Sera? What was even going on in that room that the air pressure inside felt different when the door opened? It sounds magical. And remember, Sera hates and is terrified of magic.

If Sera was involved in smuggling out the ebony dagger from Irving’s room, what did she do with it? She was only around ten years old at the time - why was she even dabbling with this item to begin with?

What is she so afraid of in the Void when she’s never even really been there? (presumably, maybe she forgot or blocked it out of her memory)

Why does she experience deja-vu and why can she sense the veil when she’s not a mage?

Has she blocked out parts of her memories because her dabbling with the ebony black dagger in her childhood caused her to remember too much of her past self?

When she describes the sky as ‘feeling like falling’ is that how one enters the Void? By falling up into the sky of a titan?

And why is she so afraid of a romanced Inquisitor falling into the Void? Her vision/nightmare foretells the Inquisitor’s death and fall into the Void after the battle with Corypheus but what if it foretold a future event, something we may possibly see in DA4?

Personally I believe the events of DAI particularly the Fade and The Temple of Mythal triggered certain memories within Sera that reminded her of her past and the consequences of her actions.

I believe she knows what the Void is and how to wield it’s power, but she’s afraid of confronting the truth because the knowledge of what it can do to a person truly terrifies her.

When you are corrupted, you forget your sense of self, you forget all sense of time and even past conversations, and you even forget your true face.

#dragon age #da theories #da4 #sera #andruil #the calling #the blight #duncan #remille #irving #flemeth #mythal #small painted box #the circle of magi

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jenovahh · 4 years

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Comm 08 - Grand - NSFW

Rating: NC-17/Explicit Tags: Fem!WoL x Elidibus, Enemies to Lovers, Smut, Penis in Vagina Sex, Fingering Commission from twitter from a user who wanted to remain anonymous! ===========================================================

“It’s a bit late to be coming one’s room this late, is it not?”

Your eyes have yet to open as you hear the telltale sound of the rift yawning wide. Unbothered, you lie relaxed on your bed in the Pendants, dressed in a silk nightgown that seemed incredibly luxurious for someone as hardy as the Warrior of Light. And usually you would wear more practical sleep wear…

But he didn’t have to know that.

“Would you prefer I whisk you away before your companions in broad daylight?” The voice is masculine, the baritone of his voice rich like brandy and soothing like menthol. “If you have grown so bold…”

You hold up a hand to stop his speech, finally turning to face him on your side, not bothering to retain your modesty as the silk glides on your skin, riding up your legs. The nightgown usually reaches your calves (and it wasn’t like you didn’t have shorter ones), but even you can hear the slight hitch of your intruder’s breath.

Would that you could see the expression to go along with his gasp. Unfortunately, that insufferable, red mask is in place. Robes of white trimmed with gold shimmer in the low light of your room, clawed hands resting casually at their sides. Your eyes focus on rosy lips, watching how a pink tongue swipes over them quickly before a clawed hand reaches up to cover it as he clears his throat.

“Elidibus.” You acknowledge, choosing to not answer his question. You never liked thinking hard on what your friends would do should they find out you flirted (which, at this point was putting it lightly) with the enemy. They could never understand, you had convinced yourself in your deepest nightmares, plagued by visions of a past you could not fathom. Visions you were not sure if they were your own, or perhaps--

“I admit, I was expecting you to arrive earlier.” You sigh, moving to sit up. You can feel his eyes on you beneath that mask; feel how his gaze trails across the bared skin on your shoulders, the hair thin straps of your gown the only thing protecting your modesty. “Had you not come when you did, I would’ve closed my eyes to rest for tonight.”

“Then pray forgive my tardiness,” Elidibus breathes, extending a clawed hand. “I would make it up to you, should you still give me the chance.”

You stare at the offered hand warily, feeling an abrupt surge of hesitation roll through you. All at once does the weight of all the teasing, the sly looks and wayward glances feel like they’ve caught up with you. He could easily spirit you away, never to return, having played the long con to earn your trust and have you play right into his hands. The Warrior of Light disappearing in the middle of the night in what was supposed to be the relative safety of her room…

“Having second thoughts?”

His voice is teasing, taunting. Bait, and a knock at your pride. Your thoughts must be written on your face, your inner turmoil an open book. He knows as well as you do that he is powerful; an ancient. Magic that mortal eyes have not seen in millenia, powers that your mind could not possibly comprehend.

But he is taking the same risk, is he not?

You have struck down two of the three, unsundered Ascians, leaving only the one in white, The Emissary as the sole survivor. You've rolled it around in your mind how he could possibly bear to be here given that fact, knowing full well you have slain his brethren and could do the same to him.

"Do you think me afraid?" You huff, standing to your bare feet and closing the distance between you. Placing your hand in his, the cool metal of his claws nearly stings against your warmth. You do not flinch, giving nothing away.

"Warrior of Light? Eikon Slayer?" He scoffs, somehow knowing the adverse effect your titles have on you. "I do not offer fear. Merely...understanding."

You nod, running your fingers along his leathery gloves, tracing nonsensical patterns. You gaze at him from beneath your lashes, feeling how he tenses. "What shall we be understanding tonight then?"

Even beneath his cowl you can see his throat bob as he swallows. Being able to have him on edge in this way is far more of a power trip than dangling white auracite in his face could ever be. "You and yours seem to think us some unfeeling harbingers of doom," he starts, finally encircling your hand with his own. His claws bite into your skin just enough to be painful, but not enough to draw blood. "I thought I might follow in Emet-Selch's example, and show you what you fight against."

Before you can ask any further the void opens wide, and so do your eyes as your stare back into its inky depths. He gives you no warning and pulls you forward, your instinct making you dig your feet into the tile of your room, but his grip is too strong and you are pulled inside. Strangely, the darkness feels like a caress, its magic whispering across your skin like how the smoke of burning incense crawls along the floor. It feels like an eternity until you are pulled through to the city of Amaurot, still as pristine as Emet-Selch had left it. A chill washes over you, your body releasing a light shudder that does not escape your...companion's notice.

"Would you like a cloak, perhaps?" He offers, his hands already weaving dark fabric into existence. You stare at it warily, pouting as you do.

"Had I known where you would take me for our outing, I would've dressed more appropriately," you snark, taking the cloak from him. The material is softer than silk, so thin that it almost feels like water in your hands. With a smirk, you give him a sly look. "Would you assist me in putting it on?"

"Are you shards so incapable of the simplest of tasks?" He questions, and you swear you can hear an upraised eyebrow. Clearly you needed to be a little more...forward.

"Hardly." You snort, moving to put it on yourself but just as you move it lifts from your hand and drapes itself around you. Despite how sheer it is the warmth it provides feels akin to the pelt of a mammoth. "Thank you." You murmur shyly, pulling it closer to yourself.

Tucking his hands behind his back, Elidibus begins to walk. "This way, Warrior of Light." It is only due to your many encounters with him that you can hear the resentment which taints your title. "I doubt Emet-Selch spared the time to explain the structure of the true world."

"He did not explain much at all," You murmur softly, giving him a weak glare. Despite yourself, you follow behind him, gazing up at the tall towers that somehow reach further below past your sight.

As the two of you walk, he explains multiple functions of buildings, drawing you further into his world. Even though the recreation was of Emet-Selch's making, leaving it subject to misremembrance, it was so accurate that even Elidibus could traverse it easily. Listening unlocked a deep sorrow within you, a hole you could not quite place.

"Where did you frequent," you ask, cutting him off mid-explanation, "in your spare time?"

He pauses to look at you, studying you from behind the safety of his mask. "What makes you think I had such time available?"

"From our encounters I have gleaned you are a man devoted to duty," Almost bordering on obsession, you add mentally, "But I would be a fool to think that in a world where you were nigh immortal, that you didn't have something as mundane as a hobby."

He allows himself a brief chuckle at that, his hand raising slowly. "You are more perceptive than most," he compliments, dark magic swirling around you, transporting you once more. As it fades you find yourself in a grandiose auditorium, curtains made of the finest velvet lining its walls, seats trimmed with gold. You spin in small circles as you take in its splendor, in how elegant it looks. It is a wonder how it manages to flaunt such wealth yet does not look gaudy or tacky in any way.

"Before I had assumed the mantle of Emissary," Elidibus begins, causing you to face him. His voice carries through the space easily, his dulcet tones practically surrounding you. "I would oft hold concerts."

Your eyebrows raise in surprise. "You were a musician?"

"Am, Warrior." he tuts, waggling a finger. Just as he finishes the motion with a wave of his hand does he create a grand piano from thin air. Its glossy wood shines in the stage lighting, the black lacquer so polished you'd think you were looking in some twisted mirror. "Are you familiar with the arts?"

Biting your lip, you circle the piano, wishing to touch it but afraid of getting even one smudge on its surface. "I do not have time for such things," you admit, well aware of the irony.

He's aware of it too, an infuriating smirk gracing his pouty lips. "Then allow me this lesson," he makes a grand sweeping gesture with his arm as a piano bench weaves itself into existence, taking a seat with all the poise of a professional. "Let us see what untapped talent lies within you."

Feeling too much like you've lost the high ground, as you move to sit you take care to allow the robe to part, reminding him of what lies beneath. You cross one leg over the other, the silk riding up your thigh and you can hear a claw scrape against an ivory key. "By all means," you purr, daring to even scoot closer to him, leaving barely an ilm from his shoulder to yours.

"There seven notes, and therefore one key for each note, and they are the white ones," he explains. "They repeat themselves, from A, to G."

You lose yourself in his lesson, watching with mild fascination at his careful instruction. If he had other plans by bringing you here, he has surely lost them for he is so caught up in teaching you properly. You find yourself wishing you could see the skin of his hands beneath those gloves, and you catch your eyes drifting to the movement of his lips more often than they should. Unfortunately, it seems that your advances thus far have gone undetected, so you decide to turn on the charm.

Closing that small gap between you, you gaze at him from beneath your lashes, lips parted in a pout. "Would you play something for me?"

If your question is not enough to stop his lecture, the warmth of your body against his own is. His hood casts just enough of a shadow that you cannot see his eyes still, but you can feel the deep intake of breath. "I have nothing to play that you could possibly recall." He defends, tongue darting out to swipe at his lips.

"Does one attend a concert solely to hear things they have heard before?" you counter easily, going as far as to lay your hand atop his own that still rests on the keys. "Show me this skill you claimed to have."

However, Elidibus is not as prideful as Emet-Selch or even Lahabrea, and your barb bounces off. "I have nothing to prove to you, Warrior." His voice is firm, but non-threatening.

"Then why did you bring me here?" you question, pressing even closer to him. Your cloak has slipped from your shoulders, revealing your supple skin to glow under the stage lights. "We are enemies before we are companions. What brought you to the Warrior of Light's rooms to steal her away,"

Before you can finish the sentence he's pressed his lips to yours as best he can with his damned mask in the way. It takes you by surprise, but his sudden confidence gives way to hesitation, and you easily take control of the kiss. "Zodiark help me," he breathes, even though between the two of you, you're the only one who needs the air.

You reach to try and peel back his hood but his hands are like stone as they catch your wrists in their grip, the points of his claws pricking your skin. "That is an intimacy you've not yet earned." Despite the underlying threat in his voice, you can hear the hunger, the unabashed desire suffusing his words.

"How does one go about it then?" You rasp, pressing your chest against him. "How might I see the man beneath the mask?"

"I am no man," he rumbles, guiding your arms to link around his shoulders. "But I am not immune to...worldly pleasures. Even if it has been some time."

"It sounds like you've devoted yourself to duty too much," You comment, instead choosing to place kisses along his jawline, feeling how smooth his skin is. "Perhaps I may provide a distraction?"

"A distraction," he echoes, his hands trailing down your sides, feeling the curvature your nightgown refused to hide. "Very well."

Hands at your hips, he urges you to leave your spot on the piano bench to straddle his lap, the skirt of your gown riding even higher. His hands are gentle, but greedy, a shuddering sigh passing his lips as he gives the meat of your thighs a testing squeeze. "Has it been long for you?" you ask out of curiosity.

He huffs a bitter laugh. "Even in days of eld have I ever focused on my duty." Through with words, he brings your lips down to his own, slightly hesitant until past experience catches up with him, as if relearning how to nock a bow. He tastes divine, all dark, forbidden magic, cool under the heat of the lamps in the rafters. He wrenches control of the kiss suddenly, nipping at your lip, coaxing your tongue to twine with his as his hands push your gown up higher.

While most would fear his claws, the feel of them dragging up your skin only serves to make you quiver under his touch. Your hips roll against him, both from your own need driving your actions and to regain the upper hand. You succeed in pulling a gasp from his throat as his hands grip painfully tight, hard enough to elicit a whimper of pain that has the claws vanishing before you can speak against it.

“I liked those,” you comment, allowing him to tilt your head back to taste the skin on your neck, his tongue a mix of ice and fire as he licks a slow line along your collarbones. Unsure what to do with your hands, you give a desperate tug to his robes. “This is rather one-sided, don’t you think?” You give another roll of your hips, feeling the imprint of his length between your thighs.

“The privilege,”

“Is not yet earned, yes, I too, have ears,” you sass, grinding down harder, moaning as you feel just how rigid he is, feel how hot and hard he is beneath his robes. “I have bared my soul to you, Elidibus. There are a precious few who have known me this way.” With cautious fingers, your play with the hem of his hood. “Just for tonight.” You whisper, slowly pushing it back.

He lets you, lets the hood rest against his back to reveal long hair that you aren’t quite sure if it purple or silver or perhaps even both. You waste no time taking the strands between your fingers, feeling their softness, their silkyness, this move somehow igniting your passion even more as you press into him for a deep kiss. He groans deeply into your mouth, his hands in a rush to divest you of your robe. You won’t move your hands from his hair in favor of him pulling the gown off, so he simply turns it to mist, baring your nude body to his hungry eyes.

As his mouth trails lower, so do your hands, surprised to see his robes melt away with each thread you touch. Ilm by ilm, milky, unmarred skin is bared to your curious eyes, finding him lean and fit beneath his clothing. His skin is smooth, inhumanly perfect, silken to the touch as you run your hands across his torso as if you had never felt up a man in your life. Just as his mouth reaches a breast, your fingers graze across his pants, the threads evaporating and revealing his length, your hands immediately seeking out the prize you sought.

He seems to be painfully hard in your hand, a small glance between the two of you shows that the head of him is red to the point of nearly being purple, and you tut to yourself. “This won’t do,” lowering your hips, you slick him with your wetness, his arms clutching you to him as he gives a full body shudder.

“By Zodiark,” he rasps, totally breathless. You hum, pleased, glad he doesn’t notice how much your own sex quivers with how much you need him.

“Your piano playing is very well its own brand of foreplay,” you admit, gliding yourself along his length. There’s no way he wouldn’t slip on in, but still you raise yourself just enough to slip a finger inside, pausing your grinding.

“Have you always talked so much,” He growls, pressing a finger of his own inside you, making it your turn to gasp. His finger is longer, thicker, just the right amount to spread you for him in what must be his haste to get inside you.

“You don’t talk enough,” You laugh, arching your back as your walls flutter around his finger. You give him control, allowing him to slip a second finger inside. “Twelve above,”

“Silence,” he grunts, curling his fingers just so inside you. He give you little time to catch your breath as your toes curl from the sheer pleasure, leaning you back against the ivory keys, uncaring of the dissonance that rings throughout the auditorium. With hurried, yet careful movements, he lifts you high enough to sit atop them, placing himself between your thighs. There are no words as he guides himself into your wet heat, the groan torn from his throat nearly enough to send you over the edge.

“Elidibus,” you gasp, back arching off the glossy wood. Your arms clutch him by the shoulders, looping around to bring him down for a needy kiss as he slowly begins to stroke, pumping harder and harder until he loses himself in chasing his end. Your lewd sounds echo in the auditorium, your gasps and sighs making a lovely duet next to his grunts and groans. You take in everything; the way his lips are parted, how fiercely he grips your hips to bring you down on his cock.

His mask.

Reaching up, your finger tips brush his mask just barely before a hand grabs your wrist in a death grip, his lips pulled into a frown. “Don’t,” There is almost a desperation to his voice, a plea.

“Elidibus,” you whimper, reaching up with your other hand, lifting the mask ever so slowly. “Let me see you.”

He doesn’t stop you, the mask scattering into the air like petals, revealing the sharp features that most Ascians seemed to share. His eyes are similar to his hair, silvery and purple and so godsdamned beautiful that an inner part of you weeps. “Elidibus,” you choke out, pressing close to press your lips to his, moaning into his mouth at his renewed vigor. “Oh gods,”

He presses you down against the piano, eyes focused on your face as you come apart. He doesn’t stop his assault, his eyebrows furrowing as he comes near his end. He begins to lean forward, but you stop him, cradling his face in your hands so that you may watch him fall apart. Rapture overtakes him, your title a broken cry on his perfect lips, the feel of him coming deep inside paling in comparison to seeing his face as he is dragged under by the waves of ecstasy.

It is quiet in the afterglow, your hands caressing his face, allowing him to finally rest his head on your shoulder. Your fingers, light as a feather trail up and down his back, your lips press soft kisses to his skin. “Well?”

He is silent still, almost uncharacteristically so. You wait however, giving him all the time he needs. “It has...been some time.” He admits, caressing your hips just as tenderly.

“A good distraction then?” You ask, nuzzling your head into his neck.

He nods, choosing not to speak still. You do not mind it, deciding to not let words cloud this moment, especially when you know that when it is all said and done, only one of you may live.

#Elidibus #FFXIV #Final Fantasy XIV #ff14 #Final Fantasy 14 #Comms #writing commissions #commissions #ffxiv writing

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furniturerefinishingnyc · 3 years

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Furniture Refinishing: How to Properly Clean and Refinish Your Furniture

Furniture Refinishing at home is not always as easy as it looks. Sometimes you may be under the impression that you have all the tools you need to refinish your pieces but it ends up looking like a disaster. When this happens, I always recommend people to take the precautionary measures before they start doing any refinishing on their items. One of the most common mistakes homeowners make is not using the right type of material for their project. For example, if you want to paint your piece, I would suggest that you use an oil based paint and never use water based or latex paint. The reason for this is that water-based paints will only leave a watery residue and will most likely leave stains behind.

Another mistake people often make when doing furniture refinishing at home is over doing the task. It is necessary to plan what changes you intend to make to your piece before you actually start doing anything. Plan how you are going to do all the work you need to do before you start with the project. You do not want to mess up your project because you did not plan properly.

To truly know how to refinish furniture and keep it looking new, you need to learn how to clean it. There are many ways you can clean your wood furniture. Some people prefer to do it manually while others prefer to use a vacuum cleaner. However, you should learn how to clean the piece properly so you can be assured that your efforts will be successful.

It is also necessary that you learn how to properly hang pieces that you have already refinished. If they are not properly hung, they will most likely look shabby. This will make your project not only a waste of time but it will also be a waste of money. The best way you can achieve this goal is to ensure that you place them on a stable surface when you are doing the furniture refinishing. If they are not comfortable enough to stand on, you may need to bring in another piece for them to sit on. click here

Before you start doing your furniture refinishing, you should ensure that you remove any loose or rotten woods as well as stains and damages. You should also clean all the knots and dents in the wood so they do not stand out. After you have removed everything from the piece, you should then inspect it closely so you can ensure that you are starting off on the right foot. Start off by sanding the piece to smooth out all the rough edges. Do this until the wood appears uniform in color.

When you have finished sanding the piece look at the finish you have chosen. If it is a clear lacquer finish, you should clean it with a cleanser that does not contain any form of chemicals. Once you have cleaned it, you should apply a thin coat of lacquer to cover it. However, if you want a glossy finish, you should apply another coat of lacquer. This will allow you to give the item polish once again so it appears beautiful.

It is very important that when you are doing your furniture refinishing, you take special care to avoid scratches. As such, you should use the best quality of sandpaper that you can afford. You should then make sure that you have good quality strippers so that the items you are sanding off will not leave any scars when you are through. If you use sanding pads instead of the strippers, you may find it harder to remove all the scratches from the furniture; however, if you use the best quality strippers, it will be much easier to give the pieces of furniture they needed refinishing.

Finally, when you are done with the refinishing process, you should put on your natural bristles hand cream so that you can wipe it onto the surface and leave it there for at least a day. When this is done, you should then rinse the entire thing under running water to ensure that everything is thoroughly cleansed. You should then put on your eye goggles so you do not accidentally touch any of the chemical in the cleaner when you are doing the cleaning process. Remember to use a good quality cleaner as well as good quality gloves so that you can keep yourself safe from chemicals.

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strangerstuffandthingsimagines · 5 years

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Degenerate Beauty Queen (Robin x Fem!Reader)

Summary: An old friend of Steve’s ends up having more in common with Robin than she thought.

Strolling into Scoops Ahoy with torn black tights, a red kilt with a safety pin lamely fastened at the slit, and the sleeves of your white uniform blouse rolled up to your elbows, you scanned the store for Harrington only to be met with disappointment as he was nowhere to be seen.

Being back in Hawkins was the last place you wanted to be, but anywhere was better than Lady Loretta’s Boarding School, which you had spent the past year at. It had been your parent’s idea in “getting your life back on track” after stealing and crashing a Hawkin’s police car into the quarry, and “beating Tommy H to a pulp”.

Finally, the line fizzled leaving you and the girl behind the counter in peace. Sweet was a simple word to describe this stranger, but nothing about her was simple in the slightest. For the first time since last October when Nancy Wheeler had rejected you on the porch of Tina Young’s house, you felt something that wasn’t anger or guilt - you weren’t quite sure what exactly it was that stirred in your chest, but it excited you as much as it scared you.

“Hey.” you breathed, picking at the polish on your nails as you eyed the cute, freckle-faced girl. “Is Harrington here?”

Ever so slightly the girl’s lips parted and her brows raised as she stared in awe at you, completely taken by the way the collar of your blouse had flipped up and the buttons were undone just low enough to draw the eye, but high enough not to reveal anything you didn’t want to be seen.

“Huh?” she swallowed roughly, straightening up in her spot. “You want hazelnut ice cream?”

“No, I want Harrington,” you smirked, truly soaking up the attention her eyes were giving you. “Cute outfit by the way. Is Harrington dressed like that too?”

Oh, the woes of a cute girl lusting after Steve Harrington and not even glancing her way - a feat Robin knew far too well since the godforsaken incident of Tammy Thompson in sophomore year.

“Harrington, you’ve got a visitor!” Robin called, stepping away from the counters as her gaze dropped to the graffitied toes of her converse shoes.

“Who?” he asked, sliding open the window that separated the back room from the storefront. His eyes widened in surprise before his jaw nearly dropped on the floor. “y/n? You’re back!”

Strutting around the counter and hopping over the small gate that separated the patrons from the employees. You walked passed Robin and allowed your Strawberry mist to overwhelm her senses. She watched almost sadly as you and Steve just stood before one another, neither saying a word. Robin wondered if you’d kiss him tenderly, and what your lip gloss would taste like on the tip of his tongue.

In one swift movement, your arm wrapped around his neck as you tugged him toward you - trapping Steve Harrington in a headlock.

“Why the fuck didn’t you write to me in the last three months?” you growled, albeit playfully, as you rubbed your knuckles against his head. “You little shit! I was bored out of my mind!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” he panted, which led you to free him from your grip. “Shit, have you been lifting weights or something? I got busy doing this shitty job, just ask Robin.”

“Uhh-” Robin stammered as you turned your attention over to her with an amused look playing on your lips. “Uh yeah, yeah our boss is shit. He leaves us in charge while he’s out of town. Wh-which is like every week.”

“Alright, I’ll let it slide.” you gave in, settling against the back counter as you hoisted yourself up and onto it. “Only because of Robin.” you smiled, shooting a little wink her way.

“So you two aren’t…?” Robin trailed off, her lips parting to show the whites of her teeth as she looked at the two of you - It could’ve been a trick of the eye, but you swore she had blushed in your presence.

“Oh, God! No, no, Stevie and I are just friends by circumstance,” you explained, exchanging grossed out looks between you and Steve. “We hated each other for months.”

“It’s true.” Steve shrugged, pursing his lips to the side as he nodded, sitting opposite of you on the other counter. “That is very true.”

“What was the circumstance?” Robin quirked a brow, amused by how two completely different people managed to become friends.

“We liked the same person.” You sang nonchalantly, swing your feet two and fro. Robin’s brows furrowed as she let your words process, trying to figure out if she had heard you correctly. “Then that person broke our hearts and the rest is history. Right my boy?”

“Yes, she’s the ol’ ball and chain, that’ll probably drag me down to the bottom of the quarry someday.” Steve sighed, locking your foot between his ankles to stop your fidgeting.

“Oh.” was all Robin could manage.

There was a silence in the air, settling amongst the three of you for far too long.

“Ugh!” you craned your neck back with a groan. “We gotta do something, I need to go get drunk and out of this god-awful uniform.”

“Well I can’t, I’m closing tonight, all by myself.” he pouted with a pleading look in his eyes. “Wanna stay here for another six hours and keep me company after Robin leaves at five?”

“As thrilling as that sounds, and believe me I’m enthralled by the idea, I better get home before my parent’s figure out I didn’t go to my nan’s house straight away from the train station.” You sighed theatrically as you slid off the counter. “Call me, Harrington. I missed your dumbass.”

Just as you exited the threshold of the store, you spun around one last time, offering a military salute his way - It had become a one side joke between the two of you, as Steve had been convinced you were sent to military school for the first month of your stay.

And just like that, you walked out of the store, leaving Robin weak in the knees and Steve with a sore scalp and messy hair.

Robin tiredly trecked through the mall shamelessly in her sailor costume as her shift had come to a close. She’d be lying just a bit if she didn’t feel bad about abandoning Steve for the rest of the night, but alas she had already done her eight hours, and his hell had only just begun.

Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, Robin began frantically sifting through the keys on her keyring for the one that fit her bike lock, though it was no use. Beneath her breath she let out a string of curses, trying to think back to where it could have possibly fallen off.

“Looking for this, birdie?”

Spinning around on her heels, still crouched by the bike rack, Robin was surprised to see you leaning against the pillar of the mall’s entrance. With a cigarette between your lips and the missing key held out like an offering, you watched her like a cat would a mouse. The evening sun glowed behind you like a halo, and the smoke from your lit cigarette melded into the blinding light.

“You dropped it on your way out, I thought I’d meet you out here to give them back,” you admitted almost nervously as if you had completely read her wrong earlier in the ice cream parlour. As you closed the space between the two of you, Robin got to her feet despite her legs turning to absolute jelly whenever you were around.

“I could be wrong,” She quirked a bow as she brushed her palms against the navy fabric of her shorts. “But I feel like you were waiting for me.”

“And if I was?” you asked lowly, not taking your eyes off of Robin as you brought the cigarette to your glossy lips.

“Well, then, I would dare to ask why?” Robin challenged, an amused grin pulling at the corner of her lips as her fingertips brushed against your palm, taking the key back from your clutches. “Or is it just my lucky day?”

“Look’s like your luck just ran out, birdie.” Inching closer and closer, the toes of your black lacquer shoes nearly touched that of her sneakers, only did you look away when your gaze dropped to the back tire of her bicycle.

“Huh?” she breathed, hypnotized by the shapes your lips made when you called her ‘birdie’.

“Your bikes gotta flat,” you repeated, pointing your long, black painted fingernail toward the issue at hand. The gold bangles that clinked together around your wrist may have irritated Robin had it been adorned by anyone else, but from coming from you it was simply beautiful.

“Aw shit!” she seethed, kneeling back down to take a closer look. “Some asshole slashed my tire.”

“Can you still walk it? I have a spare tire you could use…” you offered, a sympathetic look washing over your features. “My house isn’t too far from here, and I never ride my bike.”

“Are you sure?” she asked, not wanting to be a nuisance. “I can pay you for the tire.”

“No, I don’t want your money.” you sighed, plucking the key back from her hand, and began away at the bike lock.

You didn’t want money, you just didn’t want to be alone.

Walking down Cornwall Street, the two of you slowly walked in silence save for the squeak of her flat tire. Over and over again, you replayed the scene in your head, looking, searching and wondering “had there been something there?”

Had Robin simply humouring you in a friendly way, or had it been an undertow of flirting, the kind that couldn’t outright be shown in a town like Hawkins.

While you worried yourself sick about the details of your earlier interaction, Robin was left awestruck by the fact that she was walking alongside the most beautiful girl she had ever laid eyes on. You had spent more time looking at her than any girl had before, even in the presence of Steve “The Hair” Harrington. A roll of thunder had startled both of you out of your intrusive thoughts, resulting in your hand tightly gripping her wrist as she clung to the handlebars of her bike.

“Sorry.” you murmured, quickly letting go. “Stupid thunder made me jump.”

“No, no that’s…cool.” she nodded, trying as hard as she could to remember the feeling of your skin on her’s. The cold drops of rain offered relief from the warmth of her burning cheeks, perhaps the perfect interruption.

“C’mon, we can wait out the storm at my house. Yeah?” you said, nodding toward the last house on the left.

The two of you giggled like maniacs, getting drenched by the summer storm as you ran down the street.

Abandoning the squeaky bike in your driveway, Robin followed closely behind, nearly dripping over the sopping wet shoelaces of her sneakers that had come undone. As the hem of your skirt bounced with every step, Robin felt as though this had all been some sort of daydream. That if she truly opened her eyes, she’d be back in the ice cream parlour and still be hypnotized by your strawberry mist.

“Hurry! I’m freezing.” You let out a strained laugh, as you lifted the heavy glass of your bedroom window. “Thank God I live in a bungalow, otherwise we’d be scaling the side of a two-story house-” pursing your lips to the side, you looked over your shoulder playfully. “I’m sure Steve has told you about his Wheeler house escapades.”

“I can’t believe that dingus was the hot shot of the school. I swear every girl liked him.” she rolled her eyes, glancing away from your bum as you hoisted yourself through the window, leaving your skirt to lift.

“He’s not so bad once you get to know him. He’s just a dork with a lot of hair.” you laughed, reaching through the threshold to grab onto her forearms and help her through. “Watch you’re head, God only knows how many times I’ve smashed my skull on it.”

There was something about sneaking a girl into your bedroom the left a giddy feeling in your stomach, and you swore you never wanted the feeling to fade. You were careful not to make too much noise - not that it mattered, it wasn’t like your parents were home to hear - you were simply a creature of habit, through and through.

“Sorry if it’s kind of a mess, I haven’t been here in months.” You admitted, though there wasn’t much of a mess to complain about.

Your eyes followed Robin as she looked at the polaroids tapped to your vanity, and the cracked picture frames that sat on top of your dresser. A rather grumpy looking girl wearing a dress with far too many ruffles and purple eyeshadow with sparkles that could be practically seen from Saturn seemed to catch her interest.

“Is this you?” she grinned, shocked to see you dressed so glamorously

“Unfortunately. That was from freshman year spring fling. I was supposed to go with Nancy and Barb but um, I don’t know, they kind of bailed on me last minute.” you cringed, reaching up into your closet, and pulling out a pile of clothes. “You’re gonna catch a cold if you stay in those wet clothes. Let me get you a tee and some shorts.”

“Oh, okay.” she swallowed roughly, glancing down to the black lace bra that seemed quite apparent beneath the wet, white blouse. Fumbling to catch the oversized “Hawkin’s athletics” shirt and loosely fitted shorts, Robin stumbled over her words as she tried to thank you.

As Robin excused herself to change in the small, connected washroom, you flopped backwards and hummed with content, practically sinking into your mattress - never again would you have to lay on the stiff cots at Lady Loretta’s Boarding School. Shimmying out of your skirt and tights, and undoing the buttons of your shirt before slipping into your favourite sleep shirt.

“You should’ve been in band, you would’ve fit right in-” Robin had quite literally been a loss for words, unable to finish her thought as the mere sight of you in your long shirt, taking a swig from the flask you had left in your bedside table, and your hair damp with rain.

“Hmm?” you hummed, gently wiping your mouth with the back of your wrist. Looking down at your flask, then back to Robin, you held it toward her. “Want some?”

Now Robin wasn’t much of a drinker, not much of a drinker at all really, but the more she sipped and the more you laughed at her jokes, she began to understand the appeal. The more she drank, the less she worried about the little anxieties that had plagued.

By the time the flask was finished, you were both tipsy, curled onto your sides nearly nose to nose beneath the purple covers of your bedspread and the storm raged on - the rain pelted against your window almost violently, and yet it was so soothing you could’ve fallen asleep.

“They were always closer in our little trio, Nancy and Barb, I mean.” You whispered with half-lidded eyes, gently tracing shapes on the fabric of your pillow. “I always wanted just a sliver of Nancy’s attention. But her attention went from Barb to Steve, and then Steve to Jonathan…but never to me…never like that.”

Robin remained quiet for the first time since the brandy had set into her system, no longer giggling at everything, no longer as tipsy as she swore she was.

“And then you looked at me in that stupid sailor outfit, and for the first time,” your voice wavered, blinking away the hot tears that had begun to well in your eyes. “For the first time, I felt something. I felt something that wasn’t anger or-or rejection. I looked at you and I knew you were looking at me the same way.”

Clenching your teeth together, you stared in horror as Robin failed to say anything at all. Your heart stopped, you were certain it had.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m drunk and-” your words became muffled as soft, supple lips pressed into yours.

Hesitantly at first, then hungry and frantic all at once, Robin kissed you as if it were the first and last time she’d get the chance. The palms of her hands were a bit clammy as they cupped at your cheeks and neck, but you didn’t mind, not in the slightest. The blood drained from your knuckles as you took a fistful of her shirt, almost afraid of the feeling that built in your chest.

Finally pulling back to breathe, Robin found herself unable to open her eyes, in fear that this had all just been a pretty dream - but it hadn’t. You still laid in front of her with a dreamy look plastered on your face, and your lipgloss had tasted like raspberry on her mouth.

#stranger things #stranger things 3 #stranger things imagines #robin x reader #maya hawke #robin stranger things #robin stranger things imagine #robin x you #stranger things fan fic #scoops ahoy #maya hawke x reader

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whatdoyouexpectthistime · 4 years

Text

Heaven Hath No Fury: Two Endings

XIV. Their own free will.

Bowing was not in the nature of either the Minister of Wishes or Punishments, but the weight of each god’s guilt in the face of Miho’s admonishments was considerable.

“Make your choice,” Mieke growled, itching – it seemed – for them to resist so she could justify a bloody approach to their mission.

“We…” Leon began, but Zyglavis finished for him.

“… have bowed enough,” he stated carefully, and continued more quickly when the Goddess of Canes Venatici sharply lifted her chin, “but…”

He stepped aside, leaving Leon alone before the throne room doors.

“But,” Zyglavis repeated, “you are right. Punishment is long overdue.”

With deliberate ceremony the doors swung inward, and hand in hand, fingers entwined, Miho and Mieke stepped past Leon and Zyglavis into the throne room.

The greeting the they received was less than gracious, with not a word uttered before a sphere of light, large enough to engulf both goddesses, came barrelling toward them.

“Not unexpected,” Miho dropped, raising her free hand.

Just her palm touched, and a tingle raced through her body as the King’s energy began to diminish, shrink until it was little more than a tiny golden pearl dancing over her fingers.

“Have you nothing to say?” Miho asked, her voice a surprisingly restrained whisper.

“Let me rip an answer from his throat,” Mieke snarled, more eager for carnage than Miho it appeared.

“Then he’d be dead, his suffering short,” Miho pointed out, closing her fist around the bright bead of power.

Quick hiss.

A few sparks.

It was gone.

“I cannot be killed,” the King proclaimed haughtily, then flickered his gaze to Leon and Zyglavis who had moved up to Miho’s right shoulder.

“What’s this?” the King sneered. “Mutiny?”

“I may be the Minister for Wishes,” Leon declared, “but of all those you have wronged in your existence, she most deserves retribution.”

“Do you truly believe she will not steal your stars also?” the King questioned, holding his ground, but when Zyglavis added his piece, there was far less certainty in the celestial monarch’s eyes.

“For my failure to protect her, to stand up for her, to rescue her,” Zyglavis began, “my very own betrayal – I would give her my stars is she requested them.”

“Outrageous!” the King exclaimed.

“But it will be your stars I’ll be taking, Morthwyl.”

All but Miho and Mieke seemed stunned at the pronouncement of this name.

None had heard it before, and yet instantly they knew Miho had spoken the true name of the King of the Heavens.

In shock and horror he stumbled back against his throne, eyes bulging – for her knew the implications.

All confidence fled.

Miho had him exactly where she wanted him.

“Miho!” Karno shouted, he and the other gods running to join Leon and Zyglavis.

“Leave it,” Leon commanded. “It’s over.”

“Yes, it is,” Miho agreed, stepping up to the King, whose attempts to flee were quashed by Mieke.

“Morthwyl,” she said, a hateful word, “give me your stars.”

There was absolutely no hesitation, and just like that, Miho’s tormentor surrendered his power, his immortality, his everything.

And Mieke no longer needed to keep him from running. His body slumped pathetically to the floor at Miho’s feet, all the shine, the luminescence of his presence void.

Slowly, Miho turned to the now sizeable crowd behind her – not just the zodiac gods, but others who now peered at her, flabbergasted – and smiled as she inhaled.

“Now what?” Scorpio asked, blunt as ever despite his mortality.

“Now, I banish this miserable creature to a mortal life on Earth,” Miho replied in a strong, clear voice, looking from god to god, “give you all back your stars, and leave the zodiac gods to govern the Heavens in a way – I hope – that will not necessitate my returning here again.”

“What?” Krioff blinked, and everyone else was just as stunned.

“You’re not going to take the King’s place?” Ichthys blurted, and Miho raised a brow.

“Would you like me to?” she queried, and it was clear Ichthys didn’t know how to answer that question without digging himself into a hole. “I never desired power for power’s sake,” she explained, and there was silence but for the deposed King’s whimpering, “only what I needed to exact my revenge, and prevent this malevolent wretch from causing further suffering.”

“But,” Teorus began, but the rest of his sentence failed when Miho swept her arm in a dramatic arch, starlight floating majestically from her fingertips and coming to rest within the eyes of those to whom they belonged.

Perhaps now – if they all worked together – they could overpower Miho and Mieke and hold them accountable for their act against the King, but the crowd merely parted as Miho stepped toward the exit, Mieke behind her dragging Morthwyl by the collar.

“Where will you go?” Zyglavis asked quietly when Miho reached him, and she paused to look him in the face.

“Away,” she responded, “but never truly far. So don’t fuck this up.”

That was all the goodbye anyone got. The Heavens fell quiet, still, the calm before a storm of insecurity perhaps, but at least freedom from tyranny.

In the wake of their triumph, Miho and Mieke laid together, their legs entangled. Blissfully Miho raked her fingers gently through Mieke’s hair, savouring the silky sensation and the softness of her lover’s breath against her breast.

“Think they’ll come looking for you?” Mieke wondered aloud, before kissing against one of Miho’s nipples.

“In the afterglow of victory, you want to talk about them?” Miho scoffed, but her indignation was exaggerated.

“I just want you to be safe, to be free,” Mieke grumbled, tilting her head back to look up into Miho’s face.

“I think we’ve made a pretty good argument for leaving us alone,” Miho smiled, bring her lips closer to Mieke’s, “but if they’re stupid enough to disturb the peace, I’ll destroy them all.”

XV. Made to kneel

Miho’s shadow cast a deep darkness across those at her feet. With their knuckles pressed to the glossy, marble floor outside the King’s throne room, Leon and Zyglavis found it impossible to rise, to move, to defy – though they had made their decision to stay loyal to the status quo.

Even though it was pointless.

“There was a time,” Miho said, eyes cast down at her brother, “I wanted to kill you, Leon.”

Her fingers slipped slowly through his hair, brushing his bangs up then tilting back his head so he could see her standing over him.

“A part of me still does,” she told him thinly, leaning down to whisper. “The ruination of a life, for the ruination of a life.”

“Miho, don’t,” Zyglavis barked, and her head snapped to him, her fingers curling in Leon’s hair and gripping tightly.

“Don’t what? Exact appropriate revenge upon the brother who handed me to a monster on a silver platter?” she growled, and it was echoed by Mieke snarling. “Do you know what he did to me, Zyglavis? How I held my heart so tightly bound because I didn’t want anyone to think for a second I used my power to steal away their free will for my own desire? That is what Leon did – snapped his fingers and had me sprawled, writhing beneath the furious thrust of the King and made me want it!”

Her exclamation was accompanied by the sudden rise of Leon’s body, and as if he was weightless, Miho flung him aside with such force his body cracked and imprint in the marble wall.

Before he could even let out a winded groan, other gods, including the enfeebled Karno, Krioff, Huedhaut and Scorpio came running down the wide hall in their direction. But they all slid to a swift halt when Mieke’s form bulked out into the celestial form of the Goddess of Canes Venatici, and snapped threatening jaws that barred their path.

“She will eat you,” Miho warned with a smirk. “Or at least chew you up and spit you out again; I don’t think she finds you any more tasteful than I do.”

“Miho,” Zyglavis entreated once more, redirecting her ire.

“He’s sitting in that throne room knowing full well what’s transpiring here,” she sniggered, glancing to the large doors behind Zyglavis’ back. “And he will leave you to languish at my mercy because he is a coward.”

It would have been the perfect moment for the King of the Heavens to burst onto the scene and prove Miho wrong – but he did not.

“Cling to that hatred you’ve developed for me, Zyglavis,” Miho began again, reaching for his cheek with her palm sizzling, “because…”

“Hate you?” he frowned, and it was not as a result of imminent pain. “What you’re doing is madness, but whether you believe me or not, I hate myself more for playing a part in what led you here.”

“Your self-deprecation is wasted on me,” she spat, enveloping him in flame and finally more formally announcing her presence to the King.

Zyglavis’ charred body cartwheeled through the immense doors, then skidded across the mirrored floor before slamming into a vacant throne.

The King stood beside it, and didn’t even look down at the smouldering body to his left. His pale eyes staring straight ahead and meeting Miho’s fierce gaze.

“That is quite enough,” the King’s voice rang out, and though his stance was strong, not a single soul missed the tremble in his voice.

“Oh?” Miho chuckled, stepping through the debris alone, while Mieke easily held any resistance at bay. “What now, my love? My greatest, deepest, desperate love? Enough? No no, not yet.”

As she cleared the crunching splinters of lacquered wood and crystal, the King began to gather his strength in blazing wafts of bright divine energy. It gathered from places older than anyone could remember, even the King himself had forgotten perhaps, but Miho seemed entirely unconcerned.

She stood, relaxed and waited.

“Majesty…” Zyglavis croaked, shakily raising himself up on one elbow, his uniform smoking, his skin charred. “Please… she…”

“She has NO power here!” the King roared in an absolutely unheard of display of raw public emotion.

“In one word, I will have all the power,” Miho whispered. “You will give me your stars as willingly as I once gave myself to you.”

“There is no such word,” the King growled. “And I will give you nothing but the end of your miserable existence,” he added arrogantly.

Though his voice had gathered some strength, there was still a kernel of doubt.

“Hmph,” Miho smirked, then admitted, “I nearly gave up. When I couldn’t find it buried anywhere in the Heavens, in no record or archive – then I realised you’d never have allowed it to be recorded.”

“Miho,” Zyglavis entreated once more, and in the split second her gaze shifted to him, the King launched a massive sphere of pulsating power at her.

For a second she was engulfed, muted by the potent luminosity, until tendrils of green flame wreathed in glittering, slithering, aqua shards broke through and revealed her unharmed at the centre.

“You knew if anyone ever discovered your true name,” she persisted unfazed, walking a slow, menacing path toward her target, “they could bring you to heel, and so I abandoned my fruitless quest to find it. Instead…”

“You have nothing!” he laughed, but Miho hadn’t quite finished her sentence.

“… I’m going to give you a new one.”

Any clamouring noise behind them died. All out in the corridor beyond Mieke, who still held back those who might defend the King, fell still and silent.

“Impossible,” the King gasped, readying another attack, greater fury building in his movements until Miho was but a few arms lengths before him.

“We shall see,” she smiled, eyes sparkling galaxies. “The former Goddess of Fate’s influence over what things are and will be, was the first thing I took – the power to re-write fate, after that.”

“It’s not…” the King actually stuttered, stepping backward.

“So I name you…”

All strained to listen, but only Miho and the King himself heard the name she whispered.

His eyes grew wide and the light around him shattered like glass then dimmed to nothing.

“Now give me your stars, you malodorous creature,” Miho hissed, pinching his chin harshly and pulling their faces close. “Then get on your knees and beg for your life.”

Tears touched the chalk of his cheeks, but with his true name on her tongue and in her mind, the King could not resist Miho’s command.

It was more of a slump that dropped him to the floor, shuddering and utterly pathetic in defeat.

“Please,” he murmured in a hoarse appeal, “spare me.”

Though he had done as she asked, Miho was still caught in the moment of receiving stars unlike any others she had stolen. Her senses expanded everywhere, every tiny little corner, and flooded her mind and heart with an almost overwhelming feeling of omnipotence.

“Spare you?” Miho parroted, her voice now carrying with it a dark reverberation. “No.”

As curt as the word itself, was the snapping of barbed, shadowy wires sprawling from Miho’s body and stringing the deposed tyrant up by wrists, neck and ankles.

A spectacle, a demonstration and a warning to any who might consider further overthrow.

“This era ends with you,” she snarled, biting the end off each word.

Then she tore him apart.

Whatever matter made up the former King of the Heavens was ripped asunder. Joints popped, bones broke, and blood sullied the regal décor of the throne room. Mushy piles of what could no longer be recognised as belonging to either man or god, hit the floor and quivered before melting into pools of silver that quickly evapourated.

Exhaling a slow breath, Miho closed her eyes – the moment had been such a long time coming, she wanted to savour it.

“Now what?” Scorpio called from beyond Mieke, the only one to raise his voice amid gods who still had their stars but were stuck dumb by what they had just witnessed.

“Mieke,” Miho dropped, and the huge dog returned to her human form before striding to take her love’s extended hand.

“What difference does it make to you,” Miho said, kissing the back of Mieke’s hand before drawing their bodies together, “if your puppet strings are pulled by a king, or a couple of queens?”

Staggering to his feet and clutching his slowly healing chest, Zyglavis peered at the entwined goddesses as they kissed – passionately, fearlessly.

“She really killed him?” Ichthys piped up, and Karno nodded slowly.

“Looks… like it,” he exhaled, sweeping his eyes to Leon whose head hung.

“What do we do?” a nervous god queried somewhere in the crowd.

“What do you do?” Miho laughed, her voice carrying to every ear in the Heavens. “You do exactly what you’re told, just as you always have.”

Grinning, Miho led her most loyal partner to the throne and sat, before the Goddess of Canes Venatici draped herself comfortably across a welcome lap.

“And,” Miho went on, sifting her fingers lazily through Mieke’s hair, “for you impotent zodiac gods, I have a whole host of ways for you to entertain me.”

“Can we have the King back now?” Ichthys whimpered. “Please?”

“Nope,” Miho snickered flippantly, lolling her head back, “but, little fishy, I guarantee that as each day passes you will wish for his return more and more.”

“And shame we control the wishes now,” Mieke added with a wide grin.

But it was Miho who had the final words.

“And the punishments.”

WHICH ENDING DID YOU LIKE BETTER?

#scm #star crossed myth #scm fanfiction #king of the heavens scm #leon #zyglavis #scorpio #drama #angst #miho wins

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