#i can just hear the anklet bells in my mind | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

duskamethyst · 3 years

Text

love.

a/n: happy valentines day! have this spicy content for now but if you’re looking for high-cocky bastard-suna, this ain’t it. sorry.

word count: 2.3k

genre: smut, nsfw, fluff

warnings: soft dom, orgasm denial

pairing: pro!suna x f!reader

summary: suna got you a gift for your anniversary. wonder why he likes it so much..

“hm? a bracelet?” you take out the shiny jewelry out from the crimson box, inspecting it in your hands. there’s a letter ‘R’ that gleams with its rhinestones and a bell that chimes as you jiggle it.

“close,” your boyfriend smiles when he catches the fascinated look on your face. “it’s an anklet.”

suna takes the ornament from you and drops down to his knees to fasten it around your ankle. he takes a good look at it, pondering briefly over how he made a good choice to get it for you as an anniversary gift.

you look over your ankle intriguingly, shaking it slightly to hear the bell ring in response.

“it’s so pretty!” you beam excitedly and kiss him in thanks as he raises back up on his feet. “then you have to put on the perfume i gave you too.”

suna raises an eyebrow, “perfume?”

“shit–” your hand flies over to cover your mouth instantly by reflex and you shake your head. “i didn’t say that.”

your boyfriend laughs as he takes the nicely wrapped present and shakes it in a feigned attempt to figure the not-so-mysterious content, “gee, i wonder what it could be.”

“oh, i don’t know. guess you have to find out.” you reply in the same sardonic tone, suppressing giggles as you watch him rip off the paper unceremoniously.

suna blinks once, twice at the box and glances at you before looking back at the box that is engraved with a name that he’s aware to be high end. he’s not very materialistic but he knows for sure that it costs more than you can afford for yourself and the thought of you forking out so much money on it makes his heart swell.

“well?” you grin sheepishly as you wait for him to say something.

“babe, this is..” he sighs, brushing a hand through his brown locks. “how did you even–”

“don’t mind that! put it on!” you chide.

suna shakes his head and chuckles as he opens the packaging to pull out the expensive bottle. he takes off the lid and takes a whiff of the manly scent, yet has no idea what the contents are. he guess he should wear it often if you like the scent so much, especially since you’re the one who chose it for him. he sprays the cologne on his wrist and rubs it with the other before applying it on the back of his ears.

you don’t remember how many bottles it took to find the one that you absolutely would like on him but you know you’ve made the right choice when the aroma has proven to suit his character very well; sexy and alluring.

“you smell so fucking good.” you sigh in content as the scent begins to fill your senses.

“is this your way of saying that i always stink?” he forces an offended frown but the slight upturn at the corner of his lips tells you it's only superficial.

“yeah, you reek. especially after your practice.” you tease before suna envelops you into a warm hug.

“but i won’t wear it to practice.” he mutters as he caresses your hair gently. “it’s a waste if the guys are the only ones who are going to smell it.”

“that’s fine. you can always wear it around me.”

suna pulls away to look at you, blankly staring at you with his dark and narrow eyes. “and, you shouldn’t be giving me expensive stuff. i won’t even mind if you didn’t get me anything. you’re more than enough for me.”

“but–”

“no buts.” he places a small kiss on your lips. “still, thank you for this.”

you smile and counter back with a kiss, “happy anniversary, rin. i love you.”

“i love you, too.” he taps your nose with his finger before picking you up off your feet and cradling you in his arms, making you squeal in surprise. “now that we’re done with that, time to put that to the test.”

“put what to the test?” you look up at him with curiosity as he carries you towards your shared room, leaving the empty plates of your homemade dinner behind.

“why do you think i got you something with a bell on it?” he grins slyly before throwing you on the bed and causing the bell around your ankle to chime from the result of the impact.

warmth creeps up to your cheeks as you put one and one together, “you wouldn’t..”

“oh, yes i will.” suna climbs on top of you, pale yellow irises swirling like flames as he gazes deeply into your eyes before leaning down to slip his tongue past the barrier of your lips in an amorous kiss. your hands find their way to his nape, pulling him closer to deepen the kiss.

suna swallows down your moans as he hastily works on taking off all his lower garments and grinds his erection against your sex, soothing the throb that he has been keeping inside his pants the moment he put on the ornament around your ankle since his mind just kept on wandering at the thought of how he has been wanting to put it on to good use.

he breaks the kiss to plant wet, soft kisses down your throat, suckling and nibbling on the sensitive skin that he knows will have you whining underneath him while his large, calloused hands massages your mounds through the flimsy dress.

“you’re so pretty,” he whispers against the crook of your neck as tugs down the straps off your shoulders and lets it fall on your arms. “i love you so much.”

with a little maneuvering of your arms, you manage to slip out from the band and allow suna to pull down the dress completely. your nipples harden from the cold air yet they find heat once he wraps his lips around one, tongue dancing and circling around the erected tit while he tweaks the other between his thumb and index finger that sends jolt of sensations down to your bundle of nerves.

your lips part in soft, heavy pants while your fingers seek refuge in his dark hair by tugging it lightly before he pulls away with an audible pop to suck on the other. his hand trails down on your inner thigh, drawing circles with his fingertips on the erogenous zone and purposely avoiding from tracing closer to your heated core.

“rin.” you whine while the bell resounds from underneath as you part your legs wider and buck your hips reflexively.

“hmm?” narrow, hooded eyes look up at you mischievously from below. suna unlatches his mouth, watching as the nipple perks up harder and becomes more swollen from his ministrations. “you’re ready for me, aren’t you?”

you feel your cheeks warm up, “i don’t know, why don’t you get down and see for yourself?”

“whatever you say, princess.” he chuckles and shifts downwards until his head is settled in the space between your thighs.

“shit, you’re really a mess down here.” he muses, thumb grazing against the dark patch that has formed on the thin fabric. “all from me just sucking your tits?”

suna tugs the sodden garment down, tongue darting out to sweep his bottom lip as his eyes dissolve into red of passion and lust. it’s more intense than you imagined, but an impassioned loop twists in your stomach as you study his next, calculated step.

shivers of pleasure rushes throughout your body the moment you feel his warm tongue flattening against your wet slits. with skills and practiced strokes, his tongue laps off your slick greedily before teasing and sucking on the throbbing clit. your toes curl and the bell rings as you attempt to close your legs together, but suna spreads them apart from crushing his head.

his lustful gaze fixes up at you, observing every twitch of pleasure and the way your lips part in soft, needy whimpers. you gasp at the abrupt intrusion of his long and slender fingers, yet you gladly welcome him as the muscles clench to keep him within.

“does it feel good?” he whispers, kissing the soft skin of your fleshy thigh when he notices your legs tremble.

“s-so good, rin.” you mewl, nails digging into the sheets while the fabric crumples in your fists as you find purchase. his fingers curl and drag against the spongy walls, making you keen in excitement that your hips begin to pump desperately to match his rhythm.

“you’re so needy.” a sense of pride soars in his chest, conscious of how much your pleasure lies in him and only him. he continues rubbing and digging, somewhat in search of something; certainly the spot that he’s aware that’ll make you beg for him hopelessly. and when he finds it, he doesn’t miss the way you tense up and giving him the drive to stroke the same spot mercilessly.

“shit– right there!” you look like you’d almost cry. the way your hips are jerking uncontrollably is telling him that you’re going to break soon and before that happens, suna draws away his fingers and you immediately throw a scowl his way.

“what?” his voice is taunting and he wears a smirk of a victor which makes you all the more frustrated.

you huff, “so mean. on our anniversary night, too.”

suna lifts himself off you to get out of his shirt. no matter how much you’ve seen him bare and naked, your eyes always marvel over his toned chest and chiseled abs; those he gained along by being a professional athlete since a couple of years ago. you lick your lips to return moisture on dry skin as you watch him pump his throbbing cock in front of you while he puts on an expression of bold seduction.

“you don’t have to look so scared. you wanted to cum so bad, didn’t you?” he sneers, obviously confident over how thick his cock is and how it can stretch your tiny little hole so good.

you roll your eyes playfully, retorting in a snarky tone, “oh, i’m so scared. please don’t put that thing inside me!”

his lips curl into an amusing smile, finding it endearing how you played along with his pretense. “don’t worry, i’ll treat my princess very gently.”

suna leans down to lick a fat strip of your essence and mixes with his saliva before propping up on his knees and dragging your body closer to him by the waist. he carefully throws the leg adorned with his gift on his shoulder and kisses on the side of your knee before fixing his dark gaze downwards, where he slowly guides and observes the way his cockhead slowly disappears into your dripping entrance.

a low grunt rumbles in his chest as the walls suck him in deeper, clamping around him like a vice and refusing to let go as he continues to bury his cock deeper inside your pussy. your eyes flutter close, lips part slightly as you revel the way he stretches you while the veins and ridges brush against your muscles deliciously.

“so good for me, princess.” he praises with a sharp breath, having you completely filled to the brim before he finally snaps his hips and making your body jolt in return. his pace is unforgiving and with the angle he has set you in, his tip keeps on pounding against your cervix.

the slapping of your skins fills the cold air, mingling with the sounds of your moans and the erratic chimes from your bell that he was so eager about. an unknowing grin etches on your lover’s lips as every jingle that fills his ear fuels up his ego and he finds himself to pound into you faster while the sounds behind him follow in accordance.

“hah– rin– so deep!” your orgasm is quick to build up from the prior interruption, the muscles in your stomach begins to tighten and your legs quiver.

“you hear that, baby? the bell telling you how hard i’m fucking you right now.“ he rams his cock senselessly to make the bell jingle wilder in a way to prove his point.

“rin– i–”

“baby wanna cum?” he coos, smirking down at you as the image of your writhing body ingrains in his mind.

you nod your head affirmatively, face contorting in one that expresses bliss as your mind swirls with excessive gratification. yet your eyes snap open as soon as you feel a sharp sting on your thigh.

he releases the pliant skin from between his teeth, “use your words, princess.”

“please–” you let out a broken cry. “wanna cum–” your toes curl with anticipation as you will yourself from coming undone before you are granted to do so.

“that’s– fuck– better.” he grunts, thrusts turning sporadic as you begin to squeeze and clamp down on him. “then cum, baby. you deserve it.”

suna brings up his thumb to your aching bud, generously pressing tight circles in order to push you over the edge and a wave of pleasure washes throughout your body as you moan his name in a chant. your pussy gushes around his cock, which makes it all more stimulating for the male and he pounces harder through your high in pursuit of his own orgasm while the noisy rings from the bell soon becomes white noise.

“that’s it– you feel so fucking good.” he feels his balls tightening before his cock twitches and he bites roughly on your leg as he shoots warm load inside your tight cunt. you squeal from the pain, wiggling your leg away and he completely lets go.

he chuckles lightly and gently rubs the dents on your skin, “sorry.”

once he’s sure he has emptied, he pulls out his softening cock and finds his place next to your warm body. you turn to face your lover and he gladly welcomes you into his warm embrace.

“i love you.” he whispers, pushing aside the damp and matted hair from your face to place a soft kiss on your forehead.

you hum in content, vision darkening as he continues to play with your hair soothingly while the sound of his heartbeat sings you a lullaby. “i love you, too.”

#suna #suna rintaro #rintaro suna #suna rintarou #rintarou suna #haikyuu suna #suna smut #suna fluff #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu smut #haikyuu fanfic #suna fanfic #r; writes

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five-rivers · 3 years

Note

Is there any way we could possibly convince you to write more of the Eldritch!Danny au? As it's own phanfic? This, of course, would only be done once you are under considerably less stress, and can comfortably put the effort into that, if there ever could be such a time whilst writing Mortified and Stars Aligned. It could even wait until one or both of those has reached a point that you deem them Completed™. I'm just immediately part of Sam's Cult XD

It’s been a bit, and this is kind of random, but...

Clockwork’s avatar pressed the food to Danny’s lips, and he bit down, hard. Juices dribbled down his chin as the food squirmed. He moaned in something like relief as the pressure in the venom sacs in the roof of his mouth lessened. He ate.

He kept Dreaming of himself with fangs and venom. Did that mean something?

A cold pressure under his chin forced him to look up. Clockwork’s avatar inserted another piece of food into Danny’s mouth.

Of course, it means something, it said. You are such a generous soul that you must give of yourself before you can even do something as basic and vital as eat.

Something about that didn’t sound right, but Danny wasn’t in a position to argue, not when he found himself so hungry.

Clockwork’s avatar fussed over him, feeding him more and more, past the point of mere satiation to the point where he felt bloated and slug-like. He wanted to curl up and sleep real sleep. The image of a caterpillar who, having gorged itself, began to form a cocoon, flittered across his mind.

You are a long way from metamorphosis yet, dear one, said Clockwork’s avatar. Come. I have something for you.

Danny followed the tug of the chained collar around his neck, blinking blearily, his footsteps just a little unsteady.

The careful direction of the chain led him to a small table cluttered with trinkets. Clockwork’s avatar leaned down to press its cheek against the crown of Danny’s head. Its cloak fell to either side of Danny, cutting off his field of view to the left and right, leaving him with only the table and the wall behind it.

A gift, said Clockwork’s avatar.

“Why?” asked Danny. It felt odd to speak here, and much more so in English, but he was still learning how to use his True Voice.

I wanted to give you something myself, before we celebrate your birthday.

“My birthday is ages away,” said Danny.

From some perspectives, perhaps. But we missed so many of yours. We must make them up before the next one.

There was something ominous there, but Danny just leaned into the avatar’s touch, unwilling to devote himself to interpreting omens.

Pick one, said Clockwork’s avatar, pick wisely. Gifts received in the Dream become part of you.

Danny nodded and opened his eyes (when had he closed them?) to look at the trinkets—no, the gifts—again. Gifts that, like all good gifts, came with strings attached.

There was something off about that thought.

But it didn’t matter. It wasn’t as if he could refuse a gift.

He reached out.

He picked the beaded pectoral necklace. Mostly because he was curious to see how it went on, what with the collar around his neck and all. Yes, this was the Dream, and multiple things could exist in the same place at the same time, but usually there was an… internal consistency, of sorts.

It turned out the answer was that the necklace merged with the bottom edge of the collar, which felt weird, but it was fine, because both were manifestations of Clockwork’s Love.

The unfamiliar weight of it hung strangely off his shoulders, especially given the counterweight that hung down his back, and forced him to alter his posture. He stood straight and… Well. Not tall. But to his full height.

Clockwork’s ticking sounded pleased. An echo of something where Danny’s heart once was agreed with that assessment.

When he left the Dream and went on with his life, it seemed as if not much had changed, except—

He felt more confident. More coordinated. He didn’t stutter as much. People listened to him more.

Even Sam and Tucker remarked on it.

Only a few days later, Clockwork called him back, reeling him into the deep Dream by the chain attached to his collar. He had another gift for Danny. A bracelet. Its weight joined that of the necklace.

Since you seemed to enjoy this so much, said the avatar, running its fingers over the faience beads.

And so it went.

Every few days, Clockwork would call him back and give him some new little adornment. A ring. A jeweled comb. An anklet. A brooch. A belt. Each gift seemed to smooth away some almost imperceptible flaw in his waking self, seemed to draw more eyes to him, more attention, more praise. People who would never give him the time of day before actually sought out his company.

He wondered. Each thing he was given was a display of wealth. Did that come across, somehow? Or was it simply gravity, the mass of his presence pulling in their regard?

The improvements weren’t just in his human life. The others were easier to fight, to distract and ward away. Their blows did not hurt nearly as much, nor did their ‘appearances’ distress him as much as they once had.

He noticed, too, the weight of what he wore in the Dream. Each ring, each bauble, made it easier for him to sink into the depths, made it harder for him to reach the surface.

Sometimes, after a return, he would like on the floor in his room, panting.

But he was growing stronger, too, and he hoped—

It didn’t matter what he’d hoped.

He could no longer reach the waking world. He tried seven times before the chain, vibrating with amusement, pulled him back to Clockwork.

We must celebrate, said Clockwork’s avatar, pulling a sort of woven metal sleeve over Danny’s right hand. It hooked neatly onto the rings on each of his fingers.

“Why?” asked Danny, barely holding himself back from falling to pieces. He had a responsibility to Amity Park. Not to mention, he wanted to live there with his friends and family.

Because it is a wonderful milestone, that you are too powerful to reach that place on your own. The avatar placed a crown of knotted metal on Danny’s head. This is what a cult is for, my little gem. To pull you up.

“What if…” said Danny, “I get too… heavy to be pulled up?”

Another milestone.

Except, no, Danny’s hand still hovered over the table, undecided. He let it fall back to his side and blinked, shaking his head to clear it of the vision that had just overtaken him.

Did it show what would be, what might have been? Or merely a possibility?

Reality splintered.

He put his hand down on a stack of folded white cloth, jostling the bells sewn to the hems. He didn’t actually know what it was, but it seemed harmless, and the fabric was soft.

It turned out that the cloth was a set of folded veils. The bells were weights, to make them hang properly.

Clockwork’s avatar helped him put them on in front of a mirror, since Danny had never worn anything like them before. The cloth was thin, diaphanous gauze. Where the veils touched the clothing he was already wearing, it whispered away, like it never was. In some places, mostly on his shoulders and back, for some reason, the veils merged smoothly, seamlessly, with his skin. It was an odd sensation, made more so by the fact that his nerve endings seemed to extend partway into the cloth.

Although, that might not be by design, but because Danny expected it. This was the Dream, after all.

Once all the veils were in place, the only pieces of his body exposed were his hands and bare feet. It was strange, looking at himself in the mirror through the sheer veils over his face and head. He almost looked like a ghost.

It was… it was kind of embarrassing, being dressed like this. The veils were the only things he was wearing, and even with all their frothy layers, he could make out the silhouette of his body beneath them.

He spun in place, just enough to hear the bells ring with high, clear tones. Like this, the subtle embroidery on the veils looked like feathers.

When he woke again, normal clothes felt rough and coarse against his skin in comparison. He gritted his teeth and bore it. He couldn’t very well walk to school in the nude.

“Did something happen last night?” asked Sam, surveying Danny up and down.

“Um,” said Danny, “yes, but why?”

“You look…”

“Mysterious,” said Tucker.

“Ethereal,” decided Sam. “But also…” She hummed. “Untouchable, maybe? I don’t know.”

Danny explained what had happened.

It was in the course of just messing around that they found another effect.

“Dude,” said Tucker, as Danny sat on his shoulders, “did you lose weight or something?”

“No?” said Danny, turning away from his sticky-note masterpiece on the classroom ceiling. “At least, I don’t think so.”

“You just seem a lot lighter than the last time we did this.”

They weighed him later, at Sam’s house. He was.

The next time he visited the dream, there were changes. One, the sensation in the cloth had extended. He could feel almost all the way to the ends of some of the shorter veils. Two, his form beneath the veils was less distinct. Softer. When he put his hand underneath them to check, his body felt softer, too. Three, he was glowing.

Of course, said Clockwork’s avatar, stroking its cold hand down his back in a way that made all of his new nerve endings overload. As the illusion fades, the truth may shine.

It did not elaborate, no matter how Danny pressed him. It did, however, pet him until he was left as little more than a pleasantly chirping puddle of veils and feathers on Clockwork’s floor.

He did not note the significance of the feathers until his next visit to the Dream, whereupon some of his veils had become wings, bells still attached and ringing with every motion. He spread them out and flew.

Flying was even better than he had imagined. Never before had he known such joy.

The changes continued, the form he wore in the waking world becoming progressively more and more alien to him, more grating and uncomfortable.

“That only makes sense,” said Sam. “You’re more than us. Being constrained like this can’t be good for you.”

Tucker nodded in agreement. “I mean, look at all of this.”

Danny looked around the cafeteria, catching several worshipful gazes.

“You don’t belong in a cage like this.”

“I want to be able to help,” said Danny. It had become easier, in some ways. It was as hard as ever to fight the others, but human aggression stopped dead in Danny’s presence.

“You’ll still be able to,” said Sam. “But Tucker’s right, you should be trapped here. You should in a high place… on a pedestal. Somewhere to give us hope. Somewhere we can look up to.”

He stood in front of Clockwork’s mirror again. There was a suggestion of a human body beneath the wings, but nothing more than that. Soon, even that would be gone.

Even as he thought it, he let his wings shift, forming a more spherical shape. The light at his center became blindingly bright, but Danny could still see the chains of Love attached to it that kept him grounded.

One of those chains pulled taught as Clockwork summoned him, not even bothering with the avatar this time. This time, Danny would be able to talk to Clockwork directly, and it would be fine, because Danny had shed that illusion of humanity and become more like Clockwork.

He entered Clockwork’s direct presence and—

Danny reeled as the vision simply stopped being something his mind could interpret. He felt a part of what he called his sanity crumble.

Perhaps… Perhaps not that one. Instead…

He chose the featureless white mask, lifting it with both hands. It was surprisingly heavy.

Clockwork’s avatar reached out, the sleeves of its robes whispering past Danny’s ears. Let me help you put that on, it said. It took the mask and flipped it over, brushing the broad, white satin ribbon out of the way with its thumbs.

Before Danny could think to protest, before he could decide if he wanted to protest, the mask was pressed against his face.

The soft inner lining fit perfectly snug against his features. Perfectly enough that it forced his eyelids and lips closed. The bottom edge of the mask cupped his jaw, preventing him from opening his mouth.

He could not see, with the mask on. Somehow, this surprised him. Part of him had expected to supernaturally be able to see through the mask.

This was inconvenient. On the other hand, not being forced to see the Dream and its denizens could be a boon in and of itself.

Clockwork’s avatar finished tying the ribbon. When you wear this, only those who know you will know you. And only those who you keep in place of your may have their knowledge progress.

Danny tested his ability to speak, first with human words and then with his True Voice. The best he could manage was a sort of hum.

I know you best of all. One cannot progress past completion. Remember, those who Love you will understand you, even without words. You will be allowed to remove the mask if it pleases you.

Danny nodded to show he understood, the weight of the mask making the motion more energetic than usual.

It took Danny time to learn how to navigate the Dream blind. The Dream was, well, Dream. It did not follow the usual rules of object permanence. Things Danny could not directly perceive existed only at the whims of others. While he was with Clockwork, he could have faith that things would stay mostly stable, but once he left, his world shrunk to echoes and what lay against his skin.

But when he did finally make it home and opened his eyes, he was able to fully understand what the mask gave him.

He could not see the nightmares and madness lurking just under reality. His sight was human. He turned to his mirror and saw not a monster, but simply his physical body.

He found himself weeping in relief. It had been so hard. Even if it was an illusion bought by ignorance, for the first time in far too long, he felt safe, no longer exposed.

Whether or not it pleased him, he might never take the mask off.

He walked to Jazz’s room to tell her the good news, only to discover he could not speak.

After some experimentation, Danny and Jazz determined that, when he wore the mask, his speech was as constrained in the real world as it was in the Dream. If he wanted to talk, he had to slip into the Dream to take it off.

It was inconvenient, but still. A perfectly hidden identity and relief from seeing were more than worth inconvenience.

With the mask on, he almost felt human again.

Before the school day began, he paused in the bathroom and braced himself. He had gotten away with being quiet at home, but at school, teachers would require him to answer questions.

He stepped into the Dream and reached up to untie the knot at the back of his head. It would not come loose. Danny pulled harder.

If it pleased him.

Well, it didn’t please him to be exposed in school. Beyond that… Danny suspected that Clockwork also had a hand in when he was allowed to remove the mask.

A few weeks later, the school psychiatrist diagnosed him with selective mutism.

“It almost makes sense,” claimed Tucker, gesturing at Danny’s ceiling, “if you think of it like a parent keeping their kid safe on the internet. Like, you don’t want their identity exposed, so you keep them from giving away personal information or talking to strangers.”

“That,” said Sam, poking Danny’s cheek, “or he wants your cute little face all to himself. What do you even look like in the Dream?”

“Like me,” said Danny. He raised a hand to touch his face. “I don’t know what I look like with the mask on.” The words came surprisingly easily. Before the mask, he’d worried that he’d eventually be unable to speak English, what with how difficult it was becoming to translate his thoughts to sounds.

Later that day, there was an incident. Danny couldn’t help. He couldn’t see.

(It was, however, very clear that the others could see him.)

(He couldn’t help but feel guilty.)

That night, Clockwork pulled him into the Dream.

There is someone I want you to meet, said Clockwork’s avatar as its fingers untied the mask.

“Who?” asked Danny as the mask came away. He nearly forgot his question as he once again took in Clockwork’s appearance. He had forgotten how beautiful it was here. Tears rolled down his face.

Your brother, said the avatar, gently leading Danny forward. I think you will get along. You both like masks.

It took a few minutes for Danny to distinguish this new presence from Clockwork’s, but once he did, the name came easily to his mind. This was Nocturne, the Dream Eater.

“Why is your mask different from mine?” asked Danny, because he couldn’t make a good first impression to save his life.

The mouth and eyes on Nocturne’s mask turned upward in humor. It plucked Danny’s mask from the hands of Clockwork’s avatar, and, to Danny’s simultaneous horror and delight, Danny discovered that he could feel Nocturne’s claws on the mask as if they were on his face instead.

That is because it is your face, said Nocturne, the one you show the world. Why wouldn’t you feel it when it is touched? When it is damaged? Nocturne ran his fingers down across the space where eye holes would have been in an ordinary mask, and Danny found himself forced to blink. For the other, it is because you are a child. I see and speak for myself. A child sees the world through their parent’s eyes. A child has no voice, but their parent speaks for them.

“Will it change when I get older?” asked Danny.

Nocturne laughed. You will not grow older. He moved forward suddenly, pressing the mask to Danny’s face, and putting one of his other hands against the back of Danny’s head. You will always be the youngest of us. The most… Human.

Is something wrong? asked Clockwork’s avatar.

“No,” said Danny, quickly. “It’s just hard to decide.”

You could have them all, it said, if it is so difficult.

Danny shook his head. “No, I just need more time.”

Maybe if Danny were human, this would be about getting the best deal, choosing the gift with the lowest price, but he wasn’t, and it wasn’t. This was about choosing the price he wanted to pay.

It surprised him, how much he wanted to pay some of them.

The set of bracelets clinked merrily when Danny touched them. They were four bands, each about two inches wide and a couple millimeters thick. The metal they were made of was smooth on the outside, but on the insides, they had the same fractal patterns as the collar.

The manacles are a good choice, said Clockwork’s avatar, approvingly.

Manacles.

Not bracelets.

Unfortunately, he didn’t think he was allowed to change his mind.

The manacles went around his wrists and ankles, each one closing with a snap. When they shut, the metal they were made of swirled, the hinges and seams disappearing to present a flawless surface and the overall shape shifting so the inside laid flush against his skin.

As soon as he closed the last one, and it finished altering itself, Danny felt a sharp pain through the center of his wrists and ankles, followed by a radiating numbness, as if a rod had been driven through each manacle, through each wrist and ankle, stopping only when it hit the other side. But the numbness soon faded, and as he flexed his hands and feet, he didn’t feel anything like that.

Still. The message was clear. The metal bands were not coming off.

Clockwork’s avatar took one of Danny’s hands, and examined the band. The metal, which had warmed against Danny’s skin, turned frigid under the avatar’s touch. For a moment, Danny’s vision blurred, and he saw a multitude of delicate chains leading from the manacle in every direction, connecting it to Clockwork, the other manacles, the collar around his neck and who knew what else. His vision cleared. A few long, silent minutes later, the avatar released him.

They were made with much skill. I hope you find them useful.

Danny nodded.

The manacles weren’t visible in the waking world, but Danny imagined he still felt them. Especially when he was doing things with his hands or feet.

‘Made with skill,’ indeed.

Lots of skills. Skills like drawing, writing, dancing, sign language. He didn’t trip or stumble any more but moved smoothly. It was interesting. It didn’t feel like the skills belonged to someone else. They were his, now, wherever they had originally come from. He knew how to do each thing he was doing, and he did them intentionally.

Still, his art (which he had always considered at least decent) was now scary good. He’d also outplayed Ember on the piano a few days back, breaking her hold on the people who had been listening. She’d been… rather upset about that.

It was worth it.

The string attached to the gift didn’t make itself known for a while. One day, while he was drawing, his wrists burned cold, and he found himself drawing something more than what he’d originally intended. The general subject was the same, but the skill put into it, the effort, was far, far greater. He’d meant to doodle a little, maybe for ten or so minutes before he went to bed.

Instead, it was hours later and if it wasn’t on the back of his French homework the drawing could have been hung in a museum.

It would have been the easiest thing in the world to imagine that he was being puppetted, controlled, that the manacles made him into a marionette, but that wasn’t what it felt like. Instead, it felt as if something had flipped a switch inside him.

He understood, then. The manacles granted him skills, but he couldn’t always decide when to use them. Or how much.

It wasn’t the last time it happened. He’d suddenly be seized with the urge to do something. Make use of some skill. And whatever he did when those urges settled over him was inhumanly good. Dangerously good. As in, attracting the wrong kind of attention good.

Those men in suits had been there for him, and he was quite certain that, if he had been perceptible to people foreign to Amity Park, they would have tried to take him. Tried, being the operative word.

More importantly, the mural he’d been compelled to paint on the side of the supermarket last night seemed to be attracting a following. He’d attempted to keep elements of the others out of it, but he knew they somehow slipped through, slipped past his attention, and into his art.

Sam and Tucker thought it was fine, though. He was inclined to trust them.

He was glad that the manacles did not seem to infer any violent or deadly skills. He wasn’t what he would do if they did and the urge to act turned into an urge to harm.

The manacles turned cold.

Perhaps he’d bake a cake. Something for Sam and Tucker, as a thanks for putting up with him.

Danny slumped against Clockwork’s avatar, who held him without complaint. These visions were mentally draining. They would be, what with containing weeks compressed into seconds.

Were they seconds?

The picture frame caught Danny’s eye. It was a picture of him, as an infant, being held by Clockwork’s avatar, the great expanse of Clockwork himself in the background. Danny wasn’t quite sure he knew the picture was of himself. Really, he’d been a generic-looking baby. But he did know.

He took the picture.

Nothing happened. He went home, woke up, and went about his normal life. On occasion, he would look at the picture when he dropped into the Dream. It warmed something in him.

It took him a month to realize he was aging backwards.

To be fair, no one else seemed to notice, either, even though the change was much more rapid than normal forward aging. Danny suspected they were being blocked from noticing.

No, that wasn’t quite right. They treated the age he appeared as the normal state of things, but they also treated him as if he were his apparent. Something which had bothered him all last week, even if he didn’t realize why it was happening.

It made it slightly more embarrassing that he himself had only noticed when he’d gone to retrieve a cup from the top shelf in the cabinet and couldn’t because he was too short.

Sam, Tucker, and Jazz were confused when he brought it up to them. They seemed to be under the impression that he’d always been a few years younger than Sam and Tucker. That he’d been skipped forward a few years to be in the same class as them. Danny had let the subject drop. He had no idea how to even begin fixing this. If it even could be fixed.

Every day, as he got younger and younger, he also seemed to attract more and more attention. Positive attention. People would smile at him, tell him he was cute, give him presents out of nowhere. Danny couldn’t say he hated it.

Until he got small enough for people to carry around. Which they did. Frequently. Without asking for permission. Even this wasn’t so much of a problem.

Until the cult.

Until the knife.

Until the sacrifice.

(And Clockwork was so thrilled to be able to raise him from infancy.)

He hadn’t decided yet.

How could he decide? They were amazing gifts. Terrifying gifts. Gifts he could not refuse. Gifts he didn’t want to refuse, at least on some level.

But this wasn’t about what he wanted. It was about what he could live with.

The pectoral gave him power and the respect of his peers but took away his ability to use those things in the defense of Amity. Although being powerful in the Dream was an idea that tickled at the shadows in Danny’s mind.

The veils gave him something he always wanted – flight – but at the cost of his humanity and individuality.

The mask would protect him, let him hide and return to a mostly ordinary life, but he would lose the chance to face his new existence on his own terms as well as some of his autonomy. Not to mention, his ability to actually help his people.

The manacles gave him skills he’d enjoy, but also made him a hazard for others.

The picture frame… Something twinged inside Danny’s chest… The picture frame gave him a new life with Clockwork, from the very beginning. But he’d lose everything else and kickstart an unmanageable cult.

He couldn’t give up his friends, his family, his human life. He couldn’t give up his ability to protect Amity. Perhaps all those things would fade from importance in his mind as he became more and more other, but for now they were razor sharp. That made his choice clear.

“The manacles,” he mumbled to Clockwork’s avatar. He could work around the drawbacks (even if part of him resisted the notion that the drawbacks were drawbacks).

The avatar stroked Danny’s hair. An excellent choice.

“How,” said Danny, trying to recollect his thoughts, “how do they work?”

Danny’s eyes fluttered as he saw the chains on the manacles again. The way they felt on his skin was just like what he remembered.

Skills that go unused are lost in the Dream. These find them and bring them to you, bind them to you, so they are never lost again. Clockwork’s avatar plucked one of the chains. It felt as if someone had traced their fingers possessively up one of his arms. Although some of the chains have other functions. It nuzzled Danny as something deep below in Clockwork’s depths began to chime. One can never be too connected to those they Love.

Danny woke in his bed and moaned. His pillow was wet with drool. Evidently, he had left his body behind this time. That happened, on occasion, when he went to the Dream. He was never sure how he felt about it.

He raised his hands up above his head. As expected, the manacles were not visible, but he did feel more… connected to the world around him. Being connected was good. It meant that what happened before wouldn’t happen again. It meant that he wouldn’t be lost.

He lowered his hands, clasping them over where his heart would have, should have been.

The connections, though, were mostly to Clockwork, who was as inhuman as any of the others Danny protected Amity Park from. Should that bother him? He thought of what Nocturne had said in the other timeline, the one where he had chosen the mask. He’d known, already, that as much as Clockwork protected him, he also kept him in a state where he needed that protection. Wasn’t it natural? Wasn’t it the desire to keep Loved ones close?

His breath hitched as he briefly felt the soothing mental weight of Clockwork’s Love increase.

It was fine, wasn’t it?

#danny phantom #eldritch abomination au #ask #answer #loved

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httphonsool · 3 years

Text

unpleasantly peasant

synopsis; in which king agust d is a backstabbing brother, and he just wants a wife he can control, but min yoongi doesn’t think he likes either of those ideas very much.

word count; 8.4k

time taken; too bloody long

warnings; cutting, blood, people die, heartbreak, angst, sexual activity is mentioned a few times, reader curses out a servant, yeah i think that’s all but please let me know if there’s anything else

notes; this was supposed to be out much earlier, a few months earlier actually, I’ve spent too long on this and I still feel that I could have done better, however I will be writing more often now, my serenity series is on hold for now, I’m writing a spy!jungkook au which I think you guys may be interested in ! Anyway I hope you guys like this, let me know if there’s anything else you’d like to see me write.

Seven years ago…

“You’re a bloody bastard, I swear on God,” Min Yoongi spits.

“And you are not the king.”

“But I should be…you were illegitimate, your mother left you at the feet of the throne, she was not married to our father yet you were still born, you have no fucking right!” Yoongi cries, pain evident, sliding his sword out of its sheath and slicing a cut down his brother’s eye.

And all he gets in return is a laugh, right in his face; just before two guards come take hold of Min Yoongi’s arms

“I told you. You are not the king. I make the decisions.”

“The fuck is wrong with you!? I took you in, took care of you, and loved you when no one else did! Even our father rejected you and I still loved you! You were my brother!” Min Yoongi bawls while he struggles to get out of the guards’ grips.

“And that’s why he’s dead. And you’ll be dead soon too. So I’d run if I were you, you’re being given the chance.”

“I hope the woman you wish to marry is the one that stabs you in the back the hardest. Though, I’d be surprised if you are still alive by the time that happens,” and that’s the last thing Min Yoongi is able to spit at his brother before he’s thrown out of his own home.

He doesn’t know when, or how, but he will seek out his revenge.

But right now his name was forgotten in a series of memories a woman would seek to delve in and retain many years later.

Seven years later…

Agust sits on his throne, lazing around, immersing himself in the golden, intoxicating paradise he unrightfully owns, one ear listening to the names of women whom he could marry, the other ear listening to his greed, smiling at the treasure around him.

“Kim Eunha, she…your majesty?” his advisor asks.

“No, tell me something else. I do not want hear about women, why marry one when I can be unmarried and have them all?” Agust chuckles, chuckles turning into full blown laughter. Oh, how obscene King Agust is.

Silence is marred by the filthy sound of footsteps and heavy panting

Loud footsteps carry across the throne room, a breathless man’s voice echoing and bouncing off of the walls.

“My lord, dear, there is a kingdom, in the far off land, they need our troops. They are willing to…” A small, pudgy man curled on the floor forces out, “they are willing to send you their daughter, her hand in marriage,”

“How far is this kingdom?” Agust asks.

“Twenty-one days, sir, we can make it in nineteen if we lessen breaks in between,” the man pants out.

“How old is this daughter of theirs?”

“Just turned twenty.” Ah, the poor girl is four years younger, so innocent, so pure, what a shame her purity will now be tainted.

It’s a shame she is having to give her freedom away this quick, but then again, not everyone is as lucky as to be as free as King Agust.

Not everyone is that obscene either.

And exactly nineteen days later Agust is circling around a fair maiden, examining closely her beauty, every inch of her skin.

And God this kingdom did not disappoint with their women, especially this princess.

Not a speck marking her skin, no flaws, she was perfect in every sense, in every glance, and that is what made the decision. Agust would provide the kingdom support, and power, in return, he would be gifted the kingdom’s first, and only, princess.

Agust doesn’t care about how the woman (barely a woman) feels- for him her beauty is enough to capture his attention more than any other woman has or ever will.

It’s like someone has hit him with a rock: he’s in shock with the pure, unmarred sight of her, his inside coiling in pleasure at the thought of marrying her.

Who cares if Agust didn’t want to marry? He does now.

Maybe it’s the way she looks, maybe it’s her posture, the pure innocence she radiates, but he, the King, truly, really, wants her, more than he has ever wanted anything ever before.

How sweet, how pure, is love at first sight?

In most cases, it does not get sweeter than the bliss you feel in a peaceful spring afternoon, for others it does not become bitterer than your relative’s final words.

But he does not care for the bitterness nor the sweetness; he cares for his future queen.

It’s a shame his love was bittersweet and toxic to the core.

19th July, twelve weeks before your wedding...

A man once told you that when you face times of trouble, you must stand your ground and work the situation through single-handedly, but you have never been strong enough to do so, or to exercise this practice. The only way you knew to defend yourself was through your words and your sword, in some cases the words became your sword.

But what do you do when you cannot use either?

You’ve never thought you’d end up walking around a palace that isn’t yours late at night trying to find an escape route, yet here you are, running around, the soles of your feet pressing against the floor with the cold marble being the only thing your sensitive feet can feel, it was not usually this cold at night back in your kingdom.

When you were first told the only way to save your country from being thundered by your enemy was to be gifted to a King, you accepted, you already knew your people came before you, but dear God did you make a mistake.

Yet now you’re to be wed to him. You’ve also been made into a mere dancer, someone that would be given no respect in your Kingdom, the anklet full of bells constantly ringing was the consistent reminder of your status. It’s almost like you’re a concubine. You have no power, and whereas you used to have enough energy to defend yourself, you know that if you try anything now you would end up in a position much worse than how you are right now, all because you gave yourself away.

And it was on your own accords.

You’ve never looked so pathetic, scurrying around, messing up your skirt and almost stabbing yourself with a sword strapped loosely with string (taken from the loose threads of your clothing) to the waist of your embroidered clothing, just to find an escape route.

The main doors aren’t a possibility since they’re guarded. You cannot leave through a window, there are guards surrounding the whole place, you’ll be caught and given a fate which is worse than death…so maybe-

A shuffling sound. It’s almost like leaves rustling.

You whip out your sword, cut yourself on the arm in the process, and slash it around only to be met with the hard, shattering clang sound of metal. You can’t think properly, you’ve never had to actually fight, especially not against a foreigner for God’s sake

Your body goes numb, your mind goes blank and all you can think is intruder, intruder, intruder, intruder. For all you know this could be your last breath.

And all of a sudden you’re pressed up against the wall with a blade against your throat, your own sword now on the floor and prayers flowing out of your mouth whilst you stare into the eyes of your attacker, a face so familiar but a feeling so different.

He looked almost exactly like your fiancé. He just has shorter hair, black, and from what you could tell in the faint glow of the moonlight, he has the same scar, but it looks prettier than his lookalike’s, there was a certain beauty about him, but you can tell he could not care any less than he does about being caught by you.

“Who are you? You’re not from around here.” Neither is he, he looks like he belongs with the peasants from the way he’s dressed.

“Neither are you.” You spit.

“Where are you from? Are you that bastard’s whore?” The boy leans in closer, pressing the blade of sword even harder against you until you have no more space left to move.

“I could kill you,” He tells you when you refuse to answer him; your vision goes blurry with tears threatening to spill. It’s not normal for you to shed tears; you’re used to holding it in because you have to set an example for the younger girls back home.

“You wouldn’t kill a princess,” You whimper, it’s like something clicks in his eyes immediately, grip loosening against his sword and swinging it back into place to rest at his hip.

“So you’re a princess? You’re useful,” a small smirk plants itself on the man’s face.

You shouldn’t trust him, but you cannot help it, he is the most normal person you’ve met in this place so far, in fact he is the only other person you’ve met and have talked to, so maybe you are just desperate, or maybe you are trusting your instincts too much, but you are already in a difficult position, it cannot get worse than this, than being stuck in a foreign land and having to marry a king who couldn’t give a shit less about you and your feelings, just his desire.

But something about him is comfortable; it tastes sweet, sweet like a summer’s day spent in the forest near your home feasting on the most extravagant delicacies your homeland could offer.

“What’s wrong with you? Why the hell are you so pathetically quiet? I thought you were a princess not a slave.” He spits. Oh, if only he knew. “And what were you doing? What were you doing in the middle of the night? Trying to leave? If there was a way out, you would have left by now.”

How does he know?

“Who are you? I’ll call the king, I’ll call his guards! Don’t even think about touching me.” Ah, you’ve finally regained some sort of brain. Though you are lying, you would not call the king, not when this man is your only hope so far.

“Shut your dumb mouth. I don’t want to touch you. Not when you are quite clearly his property,” he pauses, looking you up and down, a smirk etched onto his face, one you didn’t even mind, “though, you are a pretty sight.”

“No, I’m not his property, I am a princess, and I’d appreciate it if you could treat me with the same respect which you would treat your king with. Especially assuming that I am about to become his wife,” you step forward towards him, faking absolute confidence.

“Mm, but I don’t respect this king you talk about. I don’t respect manipulative fucks who use me to get what they want,” what is he on about?

“What?” You ask, confusion taking over your sense.

“You want to go back home?”

“Well obviously, isn’t this what we’re discussing?”

“Well…”

“Well what?”

“I’ll spoil it for you now: no. No, you can’t go back, you do not belong to your country anymore. I mean they basically sold you didn’t they? You no longer have any worth even there, let alone here.” He laughs, “so pathetic, really, but, if you really wanted to get out of here…” so this was what it was, this was what he wanted out of you.

And you are so pathetic, so stupid you’re actually giving him what he wants.

“Please. Tell me.”

“Hmm, help me rip his life apart. You’re a warrior princess. I know where you come from, what they teach you. Help me kill him.” Him? Who is him?

“Him?”

“Your beloved fiancé, my dearest, bastard brother,” He chuckled, “who else? You really think I look like him for no reason?”

Oh, in God’s name what will you do?

You are not one for battles and murder; you have trouble even lifting your sword before someone else does.

What are you going to do? Kill him in his sleep? Rip his throat from his body? Please, that’s absolutely ridiculous; you barely have the power let alone the strength.

Who even is this man, besides having the role of being the King’s brother? How come you have not seen him before?

“Who are you?”

“Are you that stupid? Are you that dumb?”

“I asked a question,” you step forward once more, regaining your confidence.

“So did I,” He spits, “I’m his brother, he threw me out of here, now I’m back, look, do you want to leave? Or do you want be stuck in a marriage that promises you nothing but pain?”

“Why are you telling me? I could tell my fiancé.” He steps into you, a dangerous glint in his eyes as he pushes you back into the wall with a hand wrapped around your neck.

“You don’t really want to marry him, do you? Look me in the eyes and tell me,” he whispers. You falter, he’s right, you were just looking for an escape route, he caught you, and of course you will not speak to his brother.

“I want out,” a tear makes its way down your cheek, “I’ll do whatever,”

“Don’t worry for it, it’ll be handled, princess…” his hand makes its way to your face, gently tracing the outline.

And this, this is how you know you are with the right man in the moment, the sense of comfort felt was unspeakable, it almost felt like…

You were supposed to marry a man who treated you like a whore, but now you are not sure whether you will be marrying someone at all.

And maybe this was the perfect way out.

You meet him a few times more, discussing the plan and strategy; these meetings being in the safety of your dimly lit chambers, a little bit more up close and personal, and honestly you enjoy this closeness.

And it’s unfortunate really, but you seem to have taken a liking for the bastard king’s brother, it’s almost pathetic that you’re discussing your escape plan.

“Have you eaten? Has he hurt you today at all?”

“No, he ignored me today,” truth be told, you’re not sure why King Agust is ignoring you as such, it makes you wonder is he maybe that you met his brother? Or maybe he was sick of you and sick of your voice, your dancing, everything, maybe he would finally let you go? Unlikely, but you still wished for it.

“He must have smelt me.” Truth be told, you’re not sure why you’re so surprised to hear this either.

“What?”

“He must have smelt another man’s scent on you, we need to be careful, don’t come close to me.” But you like being close to him, you haven’t felt so comfortable being close to someone in such a long time.

“But I like this, I like you.” You thought maybe this would fluster him, but his face remained void of any emotion at all.

“I don’t have time to be friendly, I’m here to keep you company simply so that you trust me. And we’re going to the market place tomorrow, I’ll sneak you out, don’t worry, he won’t even notice you’re gone.” His hand comes up and cups your soft cheek, stroking your cheekbone, “stay safe, princess.”

And then he’s up and gone.

What does he even do here? You wonder as you stroll around the market place linked hand in hand with the man who had promise to save you from an unwanted marriage, and as much of a dick he can be, he’s still so pretty to look at.

And you know deep down he is so much nicer than he’ll ever show to you in a public place.

You’ll never tell him but he’s ten times better looking than his brother, because at least he does not force you to do things solely for his pleasure, and at least he’s gentle, and at least he cares; at least he isn’t an idiot.

Or maybe he is forcing you into things...but you’re gaining from this too.

And besides, for some fucked up reason you feel way too much affection for him.

“You know...you never really tell me how you are, it’s a little scary,” you don’t tell him how you are either, but you know it’s only because he doesn’t care.

“I’m fine. And you?” You don’t understand why, but hearing him talk so straightforward, so politely, well...politer than he’s ever been before to you anyway, but it makes you laugh, a pure chuckle. “What? What is it now?”

“No, nothing, you were just...being polite, it seemed too sweet,” you giggle uncontrollably to the point the people around you start staring too.

“Sweet? I don’t do sweet, it sounds disgusting, I think what you mean is that I’m playing nice, and in that case, if it’s such an issue, I can go back to being a dick, if you would like, so you can dislike me all you want, I don’t care,” that’s a lot of talk for someone who doesn’t care, it only just makes you giggle more, until it finally settles in your head what he’s just said, you stop him from leading you further down the market, linking your other hand in his as well.

“I hope you realise that I never disliked you, Min Yoongi, not even in the beginning,” and that’s when the giggles erupt again, just at the sound of his name. You like that. You like his name, even if it’d been corrupted by a man who should not even have the right to say it.

Yoongi jerks his hand out of yours.

“God, the only reason I even held your hand was so that I wouldn’t lose you, not so that you can get all sickly sweet and sentimental, please keep that between us in private.”

And that only makes you giggle even more.

Dear God, this is going to be a long day, Yoongi thinks, he almost wants to drown himself right now with the way you just can’t stop giggling.

But at the same time it’s kind of endearing.

And maybe he loves it…just a little bit.

“You know, I have never visited a marketplace. Not once.” You tell Yoongi, he doesn’t actually care, he probably isn’t even listening.

“And you’re telling me....why?” Yoongi asks.

“Because I want to tell you, so listen, or God forbid I’ll have my people stake you,” you jokingly threaten him.

“Okay, princess, tell me, or ask me, whatever you want,” well you didn’t expect that one, but you’ll accept it either way.

“You said he threw you out...tell me what happened,” it’s not even a question, more of a demand, and you know he’ll tell you. Min Yoongi pauses, his muscles tensing underneath your fingers from where you gripped onto his arm.

“he killed my father, that greedy bastard killed my mother too, then he told me to leave or he’d have me killed so I can join my parents, and well I guess he didn’t have the heart to kill me, we were always close growing up, I always took care of him like he was my younger brother...because well he was, but then he killed my father, and my mother, just because he wanted the throne, because he was tired of being ‘second best’, I miss it, I miss him, but after what he’s done to the people, and me, someone has to dispose of him.”

“The people?”

“Well, look around you, does anyone seem happy?” You stop in the middle of the market, taking a full three-sixty-degree turn and looking at people’s faces, full of sorrowful expressions, sunken eyes and hollowed cheeks.

“They look so downcast, so unhealthy.”

“They are, he can’t take care of a kingdom, he was never trained for it, and he was just greedy for power and...Women and money, he takes so much money from us that we’re left not being able to buy food to feed our families, or whoever we live with.”

“If this is where you live, why were you in the palace that night?”

“Let’s say I’m lucky I lived there my whole life. I know a woman that I grew up with, she lets me in when I want to see her. I don’t think I could live without her.”

Oh. There’s a woman.

And he can’t live without her.

Then why does he act so affectionate in private?

“Anyway, you told me you wanted to introduce me to someone in the market place?”

“Yeah, we’re almost there, there’s several places I needed to take you,” Yoongi drags you all the way to a butcher’s stand.

“___, this is my friend, he’s a butcher….he also um, executes in his spare time,”

“Oh.” You state, a sense of confusion settling in your brain.

“I think you know why you’re here, ___,” Yoongi whispers your ear.

“You need a favour from me, son? A favour just like last time?” The butcher asks, despite his overall gruff look, his voice is much smoother and silkier than you would have imagined.

You don’t know what favour Yoongi asked, and you don’t want to know either.

“When’s the next execution?” Yoongi’s voice lowers, almost as if he’s asking a secret.

“Day before the King’s wedding, why? You need me to sneak you in?” The butcher asks, an untamed brow being raised.

“Me and my…” Yoongi stares at you, eyes softening, “…accomplice, will be hopefully running away.”

“Ain’t that a crime?”

“Exactly. We’ll be caught; I’ll make sure of it.”

“Son, why are you telling me all of this?”

“When we’re presented in front of you to be executed-” Yoongi, eyes him.

“He won’t execute ‘er, he’ll fuck ‘er, chain ‘er up, but he won’t kill her…heard he’s been too whipped for this soon to be bitch of his to be able to do something of the sort,” you gasp at the vulgar language the butcher uses, raising your hand almost as if to slap him.

“How dare you? How dare you use such vulgar-” Yoongi places a hand on your shoulder, your anger suddenly disappearing and transforming into nerves, Jesus Christ, why does he do that?

“I apologise, she’s not used to such areas-”

“My God, if I didn’t know any better I’d think you’ve both been meeting each other behind the King’s back with the way you’ve been looking at each other,” The butcher chuckled loudly, a hard blush covering both yours and Yoongi’s cheeks.

Was it truly that obvious how you were towards each other?

“Imagine if he knew my whole plan,” Yoongi mutters to himself, “he isn’t a quiet lad, he’ll go around telling everyone.” He places his head in his hands, sighing.

“Hmm, the way you look at me…” you tease, rolling over in your bed and squishing his cheeks.

“Oh, God.”

“How do you look at me…I know you weren’t too fond of me that first night…” you dreamily place your hands around his neck, he calmly grabs your hands from around his neck, and places them back by your sides.

The sting of rejection injected in you had never stung worse.

“I mean at least I don’t hate you. It could be worse. I could be like him; at least I’m not going to beat you because I get mad at you at times, at least I treat you as I should.”

Oh.

“Oh.” You state, tears welling up, it’s pathetic really, and why are you crying?

“I’m sorry.” Is he? Is he really?

“You act so strange sometimes, it’s like one minute you’ll caress me, and make sure I’m okay and the next you’re ashamed of me. Do you know how embarrassing that is?”

“I’m sorry, princess.”

You don’t reply after.

You don’t meet with him that night either, and he doesn’t bother showing up.

It’s midnight, and you’ve never been in worse pain…not after how you’ve been treated. On this day especially, the cut you accidentally made on yourself the night when you met the emotionally unavailable brother of your soon-to-be husband had finally made itself aware. The beating you got for accidentally marking up your skin was nothing compared to the deep cut he sliced on your shoulder blade in order to shame you for the stench of another man being found on you.

His proclamations of love meant nothing when he did this to you. He wasn’t a king he was a coward.

“Why are you not asleep?” You know who it is. He’s your only hope in this country, and with less than a week until you are to be wedded to his brother, you can’t afford to disobey him, not when you owe your life to him for saving you earlier.

His brother. His brother…a man that had absolutely no right to be on the throne, a man that treats you like exactly how a dancer would have been treated in your kingdom. He knows it too, what being a dancer for the king means in your culture; just the sound of bells wrapped tightly around your ankles was enough to strip you of your dignity, making you dance was just another way to ridicule you. All in all, nothing could prepare you for the slice his sword left just next to your left shoulder blade; nothing prepared you to be treated like a bitch on heat left to bleed to death later.

“It makes me uncomfortable,” you state, don’t let him know your weakness; don’t let him know your weakness, you’re stronger than that, are you not?

“Oh, really?” he doesn’t seem sympathetic at all, you can hear his footsteps nearing you, can see his face in the dim light of the burning lanterns scattered across your chambers as he sits in front of you, closer than ever before, and that is right when he draws his dagger out, using it to uncover the white netted shawl from back home that’s draped across your body, your mother gave it to you before she died.

What is he doing?

He moves his dagger into the burning candle wick, heating the blade. You are not quite sure what this man is doing, he could be about to kill you, he could be about to slit your throat, let you bleed out. Like what they did to the meat back home.

“I saw you dancing.” He states, sighing, the flame of the candle reflected in his pitch black eyes, “You dance well.” Now this man whom you trusted is just mocking you, does he not know how degrading it feels to be a dancer? To be stripped of your status, your name, and your home, your family only to be made a dancer for pleasure? For no other than the man who gave your father support in exchange for your hand in marriage?

“I’m a princess, not a dancer, I certainly shouldn’t be-” he presses his scorching hot dagger to the wound on your shoulder blade, pressing your head into his chest, allowing you to cry.

As much as the pain made you suffer, you couldn’t help but sigh with relief at the heat, tears escaping the seams of your eyes, and at the very least your wound will not be infected now. A small tickle, right inside of your ear, “You are not a princess, you are not royalty. You are a mere slave; if you had any noble status over here…you wouldn’t be dancing for that sick bastard of a brother. And if you knew what was best for you, you would run when I let you go.”

“Besides, I think your dancing is beautiful. Not for pleasurable purposes, I swear, princess, it takes skill to be as talented as you, you shouldn’t be mocked for it. I don’t see why it’s such tradition to be mocked for something as intricate as dance.”

It hurts the most because he is right; your status of being a princess means nothing to those in this kingdom, you’ll only be important once you are married to the poor excuse of a king yet you know that in this king’s eyes, you’ll only ever be his whore. But not if Min Yoongi steals the throne, then you could be free, even if it only leads to you wanting to go straight back to him, because over the past week, you’ve learnt how much you need him.

Yoongi presses the dagger harder against your shoulder blade, more tears escaping from your eyes, full sobs running out of your mouth, and all of a sudden the heat is gone, and so is the comfortable warmth of Yoongi’s embrace. You are unable to tell which one is more hated- you want him back either way.

Two dark orbs meet yours, and even in the dim light you admire his scar, only adding fire to his delicate, beautiful features, one that both brothers marked each other with-

For vengeance.

And it looks like Min Yoongi finally will claim his vengeance.

“Give me your hand, princess,” you are far too weak to give him your hand, so he takes your left hand himself, knowing that it is only adding to the pain in your left shoulder blade.

“I thought I wasn’t a princess? I am a slave…no?”

Yoongi plainly ignores your comment, placing his dagger in your hand.

A wave of shock passes through you. A man giving a woman his dagger back in your Kingdom meant much more than just a gift. It meant he was infatuated with you.

But Min Yoongi couldn’t.

“You may not be a princess to him, my brother may not respect your status but I will, and I always will, even after I’ve overthrown that son of a bitch, and even if you decide to leave me,” his fingers trace the outlines of your eyes, your nose, your jaw and finally, your lips. Contrary to his appearance, his touch is much softer than that of the linen used in the clothing your father used to have custom-made for you, his touch was softer than the soft hue of blue that painted the sky, and more comfortable than gossamer touching your skin. In return, you lift your left arm up, fingers extended, bearing the pain because infatuation is not delivered without at least some, and gently trace your finger over the beautiful scar left vertical across his eye. You are lost in the map of his undeniable beauty, so much so that you almost forget that you owe him for stopping an infection from forming in your wound.

“Take,” you pause, a searing pain bursting through your shoulder, Yoongi’s hand immediately comes to rub circles on your back, as you raise a fist clenched with your shawl, the same one your mother gave you, “this is a sign of my gratitude, for helping me, sell it I’m sure you’ll get money for resources or something, you can leave now if you must,” he blinks, facial features void of any expressions or feelings. And then it happens, rapidly, sharper than a blade, he swipes the dagger out of your hand and carves the lightest scratch beneath your collar bone which causes two more tears to trickle down your throat, the scratch is light, but still more than visible and you know you will be receiving a heck of a round of shame tomorrow when you see the king, he does not appreciate you being marked even further.

“How can I leave an untended wound? Isn’t that immoral?” He asks, “You realise, you still owe me one thing,” he trails off, and you can practically see the cynical smirk on his face.

“Me. I’ll gift you myself. I don’t want to marry him, so you take me instead.” You tell him, not a single second of hesitation, Min Yoongi stares at you dead in the eyes, all evidence of mischief and emotion drained from his face, taking your shawl and wrapping you in it, “Sleep, princess, it’ll be easier this time round,” clearly, Yoongi had no care for the way you felt.

“Don’t leave, please, I’d never leave you even if you let me go.”

But you didn’t expect the sting of rejection in your heart when he left. He didn’t want you. You misunderstood.

You are not wanted by Yoongi. And here you thought maybe someone really wanted all of you, but no, he just needs you for his damned plan.

Hand-holding seems like such a sweet, affectionate thing to do, but when you’re holding the hand of a man who clearly doesn’t care for you, it feels like more of a trap, especially when you have to announce a marriage to the people of his kingdom.

And it hurts worse when the man you’re seemingly in love with is standing behind a curtain, slightly visible only to you, staring at you with both admiration and pain evident in his eyes.

“…And to celebrate…grand execution…to rid our homeland of those who take it for granted…” you’re too focussed on your Yoongi, who’s staring ever-so cutely at you, emotions, for the first time in the period you’ve known him, showing.

It’s strange afterwards to say the least, there’s a slight look of betrayal on Yoongi’s face, and a sad sort of happiness in his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

“What for?” You ask him

“I’m sorry,” he repeats.

“Why?” you ask again.

“I’m sorry,” anger fills his face, tears drip down from his eyes, he pulls you into your chambers, gripping your face and squeezing it lightly.

“You better not change your mind about wanting to leave because if you do, God help me I will never let you leave,” he tells you, grabbing your forearm and squeezing your wrist.

“And what will you do? If I leave, what will you do?” You ask, tears rushing down your face, because maybe you were right. Maybe he did want all of you.

“I’ll find you, I’ll chase you-” he pauses, slipping the dagger hidden in your skirt out, dragging the tip of the dagger over the outlines of your face, and finally down to the surface of your throat, “-I’ll kill myself, and I’ll kill you too, and then maybe we would finally be at peace with each other, far off and away from Earth, with no one but each other.” a sad smile covers his face. If anyone were to be watching the scene they would have thought you both were psychotic, but you understood, he would never really kill you, but he’d never let you be someone else’s either.

You’re not sure where the sudden affection has appeared from as two nights before he completely ignored your statement about your love for him.

“…I’d let you kill me.” You let out a soft chuckle as he places a soft kiss against your forehead, taking his hands back and placing them on your waist.

“Even if I end up marrying him anyway, I’ll still spend the consummation with you.”

Yet, still, he doesn’t kiss you.

That night when Yoongi is ten minutes later than usual for the meeting in your chambers, something is off, something is different, smells different, there’s something wrong.

And all comes crashing down when he brings in a woman with him, neck bruised with her love bites, body stinking with the stench of his woman’s perfume. And you resented it.

Why would he do this?

“Princess, meet Jihyo, you may recognise her.”

“I do not.”

“Princess, I serve you breakfast each morning how could you not remember me?”

“I don’t care for you, I don’t care for him either, I don’t even care for myself.” You’re miserable, and you want him to see it, to see if he really cares.

But things were fine this morning? Had he not made it clear how he felt towards you? Why did he have to break you now?

“Jihyo will be helping you go the morning you run away, I’ve changed plans so that you won’t have to get hurt by him, I wouldn’t want to muck up on the day of the execution and have you executed, so I’ll be sneaking you out the morning of the execution, he’ll be busy so he won’t come seeking for you.”

“What the absolute fuck, Min Yoongi?”

“Princess-”

“Do you have no shame? I’ve confessed my never-ending love for you several times now, I’ve made it clear I won’t be leaving even if you want me to, so how dare you come in here with this whore of yours covered in marks she made and covered in her stench. You disgust me. You’re no different from your brother.”

Even Jihyo had nothing more to say.

“I knew you’d hate me in the end. But I’ll tell you anyways, my love, you’d be better off with someone in your own kingdom, and so you need to move on, and I, too, need to get you off of my mind before I make a decision I regret.” Yoongi says, refusing to make eye contact with you.

“No.”

“Doesn’t it hurt you? To see me marked by a servant, doesn’t it disgust you that my standards are lower? Doesn’t it make you want to leave?”

“It does, it truly does,” you weep, tears spilling, your heart heavy with pain.

You hate him, you hate him, you hate him.

“I’m sorry, princess,” Jihyo rushes out of your chambers.

“I won’t be coming to see you again, my love.”

And you won’t be trying to find him either.

Jihyo throws your minimal belongings into a weakly knit rucksack while you watch, staring intently, unwilling to move.

“Princess, he won’t change his mind, he wants you gone and far away…and safe.”

“I won’t leave.”

“But he wants you to, don’t you want him to be happy.” It’s sickening to think that this entire time he just wanted you for the crown, he didn’t feel anything towards you, and he just wanted his crown back.

“Princess, he doesn’t love you. Don’t you see what I did to him?”

“I hate both of you.” You get up and grab the rucksack from Jihyo, storming out, finding your way through the halls to the courtyard, where you know the execution is taking place, you may as well bid your King farewell.

You really don’t understand what you’re trying to do, you shouldn’t be doing this because it’ll ruin Yoongi’s plan completely…but there’s a fire inside of you that’s encouraging you to keep going, and you won’t stop yourself.

But maybe you should have because it hurts even more than rejection when you see Yoongi on his knees blindfolded, with his hands bound by rope behind his back and a blade swinging towards his neck. You’re frozen; this wasn’t a part of his plan, was it? He was supposed to have escaped the ropes by now, why is he still there? And he’s not even bothering to move?

And neither can you, your body’s unwilling to move; knowing that if you do you’ll regret it, it’ll pain you terribly.

But you end up doing it anyway.

“No, stop!” All heads turn to you as you swing yourself at your king, sobbing uncontrollably, lungs gasping for air, “Yoongi,” you breathe, slipping his blindfold off.

“Why are you here, you should have left when you had the chance-” the bruises on his neck were long gone now, and he no longer smelt like Jihyo’s wretched perfume, just how you preferred it.

“I should have known,” the king scoffed, “you bloody slut,” Agust drags you away from Yoongi using your hands, cuts and scrapes make their way onto your knees, drawing crimson liquid, “I should have known when I first smelt someone else’s scent on you. You’ve been having an affair behind my back haven’t you?” Gasps pass around the courtyard; you forgot you had an audience for a moment.

“N-no.” He slaps you, grabbing your neck and choking you.

“Don’t lie to me, whore.” The king presses his nails so hard they cut into your skin, “How long since you’ve been seeing him,”

“A couple of months, when I first came,” You cry, struggling in his grip.

“My brother of all people, seriously, you could have-” the both of you can hear the movement behind you; it’s a rustling noise, heavy breathing and it takes you back to the night you first met Yoongi. The king and you both turn your heads slowly to see Yoongi trying to free himself out of the rope. The king scoffs and bellows with laughter, ripping his hand off of your neck and pulling Yoongi towards him, dragging him by his shirt.

“Yoongi?” You call, knowing it could get you in trouble.

He never listens anyway.

You can hear the grunts and shoves, and the yelps of pain coming from both of their mouths, but you don’t watch.

You don’t watch as the love of your life gets beaten by his brother.

You don’t watch as you hear them struggle to kill, hear the punches and grunts and the violent matter being dealt with, because you’ve never been able to handle the mere sight of blood.

There’s a long silence before you hear the sheer sound of metal slicing someone’s neck open and you look up to see your king holding a bloody sword.

You knew what that meant.

But you couldn’t bring yourself to look at your ex fiancé’s body lying dead and cold on the floor.

The weeks go on by with a new king in place, the rightful king in his place. You haven’t talked to Yoongi since that day, scared to open your mouth in case he’d offer to send you back home, and you don’t want to go, you want to stay here, stay with Yoongi, so you’ll sit here quietly and play in this intense game of fear. He still invites you to eat with him though, tries to make small talk and smiles at you, but nonetheless, you remain ignoring him, barely eating and avoiding eye contact at all times.

There are times where you’ll be tempted to say something though, and tonight happens to be one of those nights.

“Is your room comfortable, I can have them give you a more comfortable room?” the bed makes my back ache.

“If you don’t like the food I can have them prepare something else for you?” the food’s fine, why won’t you just let me be.

“My king,” you hear a new voice, “we have some…enquiries shall we call it?”

“Yes?” Yoongi responds, placing down his cutlery.

“The previous king never married, the country’s been missing a queen for a long time now, it would be in your best interest to marry, don’t you think?”

“Mm, very well, who do you have in mind?” Yoongi responds. Is he fucking joking right now?

“There are many suitors who are interested…how about Miss Areum, she is your acquaintance since childhood, no?” Unwillingly you growl, extremely un-ladylike but you couldn’t help yourself.

The king can’t help but chuckle, a handsome chuckle at that, too.

“I think Princess ___ would make quite a perfect queen don’t you think? If only she would talk to me, then we could discuss it further.”

“Really?”

“Ah, so she does have a voice? I thought my queen-to-be lost her voice for a while.” Yoongi laughs and it’s a pure, joyous laugh, not cynical or evil like your late fiancé’s.

“I’m sorry, I was scared you’d be reminded of how you wanted to send me back if I spoke.”

“I only wanted that for your safety, princess, but the threat is gone now.”

And for the first time since the death of your fiancé, you laugh and you eat a full meal.

The days go on by yet again, winter approaches with heavy thunder and not a word has been spoken about your lover’s subtle marriage proposal, you wonder if he meant it at all.

So far you’ve spent your days scurrying around helping servants, making yourself useful, running around the market place and sewing. Yoongi doesn’t approve of you mixing with people in the market place, scared you’d get hurt or make a scene due to your uneasiness in the country; you ignored him per usual.

But yesterday whilst helping the servants with their tasks you saw Jihyo, and you couldn’t help but feel for her; you cursed out her name when she was really just doing her job, it’s not like she wanted to take part in hurting you, but she did anyways. So you talked to her, though you wished you hadn’t; you wished you hadn’t seen the hollow look in her eyes and the sallow skin on her cheeks: she was suffering, starving probably, and you wonder why Yoongi doesn’t do anything about it since he claimed he was so much better than his brother.

“Jihyo?”

“Oh, Princess!” She smiled, bowing her head slowly, weakly, and her smile didn’t meet her eyes.

“Jihyo, I wanted to apologise for cursing you.”

“Don’t worry about it!” why she was being so positive when quite clearly your words had cut through her, you had no idea, but you knew she was hurting as much as the other servants were, but she looked worse than all of them.

“Jihyo, you need to eat.”

“I have, I ate bread for lunch, Princess,” she sighed.

“Ah, my queen, I wondered when you’d come see me, I’ve been missing you, you know? Today I realised I still haven’t even kissed you.” Yoongi claims, wrapping one arm around your waist and the other he swung around your thighs getting ready to lift you, but you stop him.

“Yoongi you’re king now.”

“Yes.” He says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“You need to raise the servants’ wage.” You state. He stays silent, thinking for a moment.

“You know, I was so wrapped up in our stupid little plan to kill my own brother, I didn’t even think about what I would do if I were king.”

“Then figure it out, and then you can kiss me, and marry me too, if you wish.”

You wish Yoongi had figured this all out before so you could be happy together now, but unfortunately for him you won’t be marrying someone who hasn’t even thought of the people of his kingdom, you won’t let him be selfish like his brother.

As time goes on and as summer solstice passes you notice the changes, the cheerful workers and servants that pass you, and you can tell Yoongi’s stuck to his word, and this time when you see Jihyo, you’re not worried for the sake of her health, she looks healthy, and she has a ring around her fourth finger.

“Jihyo, is that really you?”

“Princess! You seem much more mature since the last time I’ve seen you.” Jihyo giggles.

“I’m sure I do…is that a ring? Who from? Are you married now?” A sick feeling rises in your stomach, though you knew Yoongi loved you, or had some sort of feelings for you since he still hadn’t properly confessed his love for you, you still couldn’t shake off the fact that Jihyo had marked him at one point, and while it may have been to convince you to leave, the image of it still bothers you.

“Not quite yet, but I’ll be married off by the end of this month to some rich family in the south, I’ll be gone,” a sigh of relief passes through your lips, “though, I will miss you, princess.” Blood rushes to your cheeks, painting them a flowery pink colour.

“I’ll miss you too, I hope your husband treats you well, Jihyo.” You smile at her, knowing that this was Yoongi’s doing, if he hadn’t raised their wages maybe Jihyo would still be looking as sickly and as weak as she was before.

“It is the king’s doing, you know? So maybe you should go see your lover, princess, maybe you’ll be married off by the end of this month, too.”

And maybe you will go see this lover of yours.

“My king? I’ve missed you.” You drag out your words to tease Yoongi, watching as a blush creeps up his cheeks.

“Can I finally kiss you now? Are you happy with what I’ve done?” He slowly reaches his hands forward and rests them around your waist.

“I saw Jihyo today, she’s getting married off did you know that?” You ask him.

“I didn’t, I haven’t talked to her since…the time in your chambers…” his voices drifts off, your heart feeling heavy in your chest. Yoongi places his fingers under your chin, kissing your forehead, “I’ve never doubted your love for me, I suggest you don’t doubt mine for you either.”

“That’s easy for you, I’ve laid my heart bare for you to see, yet you took advantage of that and played with mine this whole time.”

“I’m sorry for that, my dear, but you know I’m not amazing with women.”

“You were pretty amazing with Jihyo.” You shouldn’t have said that.

“Don’t do that, don’t bring her into this, you know why I did what I did.”

“I don’t want to be played with; your brother did that well to me.”

“If I was my brother I wouldn’t have listened to you. But I did listen and look how happy everyone is.” He’s right, you know he is.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” He questions, brushing stray hair strands out of your hair.

“Okay,” you laugh, pushing yourself onto your tippy toes.

Yoongi gently grabs your face, pulling you towards him, and the moment your lips touch; you fall weak at the knees, all that wait was finally worth it as you both fell to the floor stripping off your clothes as you do so, and when Yoongi picks you up to carry you bridal style to his bed, he pauses, muscles tense.

“What’s wrong? If you don’t want to do this we don’t have to.”

“Oh, I forgot to ask you if you wanted to marry me.”

Needless to say you said yes.

#yoongi x reader #yoongi #bts #bts fanfic #x reader #min yoongi #bts angst #bts imagines #angst #daechwita #royalty #jimin #jungkook #taehyung x reader #taehyung #oneshot #imagine

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bellatrixobsessed1 · 4 years

Text

Kissing Dead Pearls (Part 9)

The first time she had gotten in trouble, that she remembers is when she had wandered down to the beach without asking first.

It probably wouldn’t have been so bad had she not wandered away from the beach and onto the boardwalk as well. She couldn’t help it, the sights, the sounds, the smells...they were all so enticing. There was a cacophony of them and they each called to her. The first sense that had enticed her to wander further from the lighthouse was the smell of cotton candy and an aroma of grilled hamburgers. This was a time before La-bsters had truly been established. She’d been able to resist until the scent of ice cream added itself to the mix. At this, a five year old Azula was sold.

On stubby and wobbly toddler legs, she shuffled alarmingly fast towards the bustle of the piers where she was greeted with an almost overwhelming bombarding of sensory cues. The clang of a bell on the hour as sailors changed shifts and docked and hustled about. She heard the spray of water on wood as teenage boys hosed and scrubbed the piers down and the ruckus of rope sliding and frustrated cussing while a team of girls and boys helped anchor and clean newly home boats. She could hear waves smacking against the columns holding the boardwalk up and the shouts of merchants as they fought for tourist money. She could hear the bickerings of lost tourists and the cheerful yelps one one of them spotted a dolphin that had swam too close to the summertime traffic. She heard the sizzle of a grill and the rush of a bike as it whizzed past.

It was a myriad of brand new sights as well. Palm fronds, she first heard the earthy rustle of them brushing against one another, flapped in a hot breeze. Strings of light in all colors, but mostly a golden-yellow illuminated restaurant patios and curled around palms. There were dancers in beaded skirts with shell anklets and men and women eating fire. There were fireworks that blotted out loud reggeaton music and a large and slowly turning faris wheel. There were bikes and rollerskates of many brands and toned teens carrying surfboards, discussing final summer plans and how they weren’t quite ready to go back to Port Tui-La High. Vendors sold rapidly blinking, flashing lights of blue, green, and red. The LED contraptions were hats, wands, and cheap jewelry. The same vendor sold glow sticks and wore two arms full of them and several necklaces of them. All across the boardwalk she spotted kids with them and she wanted one of her own.

But she hadn’t the money, she hadn’t even the conception of money. Not that it was much of a problem. The vendor patted her on the head and handed her several glow sticks. He told her to thank her father for running the lighthouse and looking out for the sailors. His son was a sailor.

In retrospect, it was probably he who’d phoned the lighthouse to let her parents know that she was wandering the boardwalk unattended. He bribed her to stay put with a large ice cream cone and a plate of onion rings. She’d sat their kicking her legs on a stool that was much too tall for her.

That was how she met Toph. Evidently, the girl also stumbled away from her parents. Though this was an accident. The three year old, born blind, had lost hold of her father’s hand and then lost all bearings.

The poor vendor had his hands full that night. Azula doesn’t remember what they’d talked about but she remembers not quite grasping what it meant to be blind and kept trying to show the girl lights with different brightnesses, hoping that if she found something bright enough, Toph would see it.

Ursa showed up before Poppy BeiFong and refused to let her stay and talk, because she was in a lot of trouble. Once home Zuko chuckled as she received her second scolding and Ozai sent her to bed with a promise that she’d be spending the next several days in her room instead of on the beach with Zuko and Ursa.

She probably wouldn’t have gotten in so much trouble had she chose to take her excursion in daylight hours.

.oOo.

His arms are folded over his chest and he wears a decent scowl. Zuko can tell that she wants to shout at him, to tell him that, maybe if he’d been home she would have been able to tell him that she was leaving. She knows, as well as he does, better than to talk back to him.

“When was I supposed to have done that?” She mutters despite her knowing. “Perhaps when we had lunch?”

Their father’s face is split between hurt and anger.

“I’m going to find Sokka. Zuko can’t stop me and you can’t stop me either.” She pulls out of his embrace. He is reminded again of how close she and Ozai used to be, it is in her posture and on her expression. They fold their arms the same way, they shoot the same glare at each other, with the same creased brows and the same frown. The same, sturdy and stubborn stances.

Stand offs between the two, though rare, never end well. Especially not for Azula. Zuko firmly grips her shoulder and mutters, “please just let him have the last word for once.”

She shrugs him off. “No. Not this time.” Azula grumbles. “I’m tired of doing his job for him while he goes off and fucks around in some soddy bar! I don’t want to spend another summer upkeeping the lighthouse instead of going to pool and beach parties. I don’t want to manage his finances…”

“Azula.” Ozai growls. It is a warning. The one Zuko usually receives before earning himself a solid slap.

“You made me a promise.” Azula declares. “You said that we’d spend the day together, like we used to.”

He can hear the hurt in her voice and suddenly he understands why she is so eager to leave. He doesn’t think that it is just about Sokka. If things can’t be how they used to, she’d rather forget them entirely and start something new.

“I am your father, I give the orders. You life in my house and under my rules.”

She gives a sarcastic and bitter laugh. “Is it your house?” She asks. “I work for it, I pay the bills.” She looks to him, “we pay the bills. Right, Zuko?”

Zuko swallows, he doesn’t want to get on either of their bad sides. No matter what he says he will find himself on someone’s bad side and if he says nothing at all, both of them will look down on him. So he supposes that he might as well state the truth. He nods, “we’ve been keeping the lighthouse together.”

Ozai’s upper lip twitches into a scowl. “The both of you wouldn’t have that lighthouse to live in if not for…”

“Great grandfather Sozin.” Azula cuts him off. Both he and Katara flinch as Ozai’s hand lurches forward. He must not have had that many drinks because he doesn’t strike her. Though he grabs her wrist with a much stronger grip than necessary.

Katara seems to relax but he is no less tense. He has seen Azula take on their father before. She’d done it when he was in one of his drunken rages. And she’d done it on his behalf. Mostly Zuko took the brunt of Ozai’s drunk aggression. That time Azula had taken it for him. They’d gone to a party...snuck out to it. At first he’d claimed that he had been worried when he’d come home to an empty lighthouse. But that worry turned to anger all too quickly. Words that he can’t quite recall had been exchanged. But he does remember one thing. He remembers Azula yelling, “maybe if you did make her mad, she wouldn’t have gone sailing that day.” Something had snapped and soon Azula was on the floor, the corner of her mouth split and her jaw already swelling. Zuko remembers her shaking and Chan coming to step in front of her as Ozai loomed closer. Chan could only do so much, he found himself on the floor next to her before she was yanked to her feet and practically dragged across the beach in front of the entire party.

Azula hardly ever cries. And never in front of people. That night she was weeping as he tugged her along, she’d stumbled and tripped in an attempt to keep him from dragging him any further.

He was arrested that night and he’d very nearly lost custody of them.

Everyone knows better than to talk about it. Azula likes to pretend like it hadn’t happened at all.

Zuko knows that this is why Azula has gone quiet. Why her hand his shaking in their father’s hold. Why she is looking up at him with dread and anger. Something flickers in his eyes and he drops her hand. She hastily retracts it and rubs her wrist with her other hand. Zuko can tell that it is already reddening, that it will probably be bruised by tomorrow.

He can now tell that their father is at least a little intoxicated. But not enough for it to not register, that he’d hurt her. “Azula…” he begins.

She is athletic. She is fast. When she runs, she won’t be caught. Zuko has never seen her run so fast, even the sand doesn’t hinder her as she kicks up clouds of it. He doesn’t know where she is going and he isn’t sure that she knows either. She just wants to get away from Ozai.

Katara wraps her arms around Zuko, her eyes are tearful.

.oOo.

Ozai watches her bolt down the beach. He thinks to give chase but decides that it is better if he doesn’t. He rubs his hand over his face. He was only angry because he thought that he was going to lose her. He couldn’t lose her. But he has.

He loses everything he loves and maybe he should just let her go.

He tries not to think of the night that he was arrested, but that night is etched into his mind. He thinks about it more often than not. Her face; how utterly shocked and horrified she had looked, staring up at him from the floor.

There was no sense of pride or power in seeing that terror on her face. There was only shame. But at that time, shame turned to anger and he was yanking her across the beach as she kicked and screamed. He is certain that she had pleaded with him to stop, told him that he was hurting her, but most of the night is a blur.

He recalls having dragged her across the beach.

It was after that night that she began looking at him differently. With mistrust and sometimes barely concealed fear. She mostly avoided him in the months to follow and she hasn’t entirely warmed back up to him, not that he has made it easy.

“I can go after her.” Katara offers.

Zuko nods, “Yeah it’s probably better if you do it.”

Ozai rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands. He wishes that things could be the way they used to be. He wishes that his children wouldn’t look upon him with dread. Katara makes her way in the direction that Azula had fled.

“Zuko.” He begins.

Zuko only shakes his head, “I’m going to visit Mai or TyLee.” He doesn’t look him in the eyes as he stuffs his hands into his pockets and starts for the pier.

Ozai looks at the boat bobbing in the water. Is he really so bad that they had to run?

#Avatar The Last Airbender #Azula #Zuko #Ozai #Sokkla #Sokka #Katara #Fanfiction

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lwjstiletto · 4 years

Text

wangxian au where lwj is a popular hand model and wwx is an independent jewellery maker [Part 1]

[Twitter thread version]

wwx is a go-getter kind of guy. he likes pretty things and pretty people. so his job is a win-win in that he makes pretty things for pretty people— well mostly

lately all his brain has churned out is designs that only the very nice old ladies in his neighbourhood indulgently buy from him

he’s grateful for it but nevertheless it’s been disheartening looking for the elusive muse for his next project

jiang cheng only sighs whenever he mentions this and rants about how if wwx just LISTENED to him and actually put effort into commercialising his bestsellers instead of hyperfocusing on one body part/gem/technique and hopping from one product to the next; and in general just making his business a chaotic mess where clients couldn’t guess what he would put out next, that he would have a better shot

but ofc wwx sighs even more at this and just goes ‘but jiang cheng~’

what kind of argument even is that? but jc lets it go bc wwx supplies him with endless half-finished projects that are complicated-looking enough to give his students a good challenge when drawing still life

so anyways, wwx is still making old lady jewellery and being generally pitiful when he stumbles across an intriguing article on twitter

—•—

lwj on the other hand has been fastening and unfastening his cufflinks for an hour straight. that’s pretty much status quo for hand models who have to spend hours on end either doing repetitive gestures or holding completely still

lwj doesn’t mind though, he has always had steady hands and dextrous fingers, practically an advertiser’s ‘wet dream’ as his agent, nhs, puts it

said agent pulls him aside when it’s finally time for his break. nhs looks harried, which isn’t out of the ordinary, but he’s also not meeting lwj’s eyes which sets of alarm bells in his head

“okay before i tell you,” nhs starts without prompting, “promise not to fire me.”

lwj doesn’t narrow his eyes, but the twitch of his eyebrow is close enough, “i will be fair.”

“that’s not a-“ nhs sighs, “good enough i guess. do you remember that photoshoot you did with da-ge a few months back?”

lwj nods. how could he forget? it had been... an experience for sure. it was a photoshoot for a book cover for a popular teen novel

and while lwj didn’t meet fellow hand models often, he had come across other ‘parts models’ as they were called

spending the better part of two days caressing nmj’s abs was... by far not the most unpleasant job he’d had as a hand model

nhs holds out a copy of the novel for him to see. the cover they used is from the second half of the photoshoot where they took a few wider shots

lwj sees nothing wrong with it. it’s a standard cover, if a bit lewd due to all the... ab touching. in fact the entire cover is just nmj’s abs and wide shoulders

lwj doesn’t think his hands serve any other purpose than obstructing the view in the poorest attempt to keep it pg. still he fails to see the problem

nhs wrings his hands together, “there was a blog post about it. do you know anyone named su she?”

lwj thinks for a moment, then vaguely recalls the name with a sinking realisation

—•—

wwx is still thinking about the article when jin zixuan comes to drop jin ling off at his apartment. unprompted, wwx asks him, “do you think i could sell feet pics?”

he can see jzx’s soul leave his body as he drops jin ling’s overnight bag on the pavement. wwx’s favourite new hobby is dropping these bombs on jzx and watching him dissociate from reality as he tries to answer wwx’s insane questions with logic

being a father has changed him. a few years ago he would have just slammed the nearest door in wwx’s face

“why... do you want to sell feet pics? is your business not going well?” jzx asks, and actually looks concerned. well, now wwx feels bad

“my business is just fine.” wwx says grumpily

“really? jiang cheng and yanli seem to think otherwise.”

“you eavesdropped on them didn’t you?”

jzx is entirely unashamed, “i’m just concerned.”

“again, my business is fine!”

“you know if you ever needed money-“

wwx turns jzx around and pushes him towards his car, “don’t you have things to do? get jin ling out of the car seat, it’s getting late.”

since the peacock has acquired immunity to his teasing by straight up being ~nice~ to him, it’s only fair that wwx sends jin ling back with so many new toys that they will take up at least a whole corner in his unnecessarily gigantic home

—•—

lwj meets his brother for iced tea at a cafe near huaisang’s office. lwj does not like iced tea but has deliberately kept this from his brother because lxc loves it and has made it his personal mission to try every iced tea flavour he can get his hands on

it is also the easiest way to lure his brother out of his busy schedule. lwj knows lxc would take time to meet him anyway, but he wants lxc to indulge in something he likes once in a while

“wangji, you seem restless.” lxc says, concerned

lwj takes a tentative sip of his black currant iced tea. it’s abhorrent

“do you remember su she?” lwj asks

lxc, “the one from your cello class?”

lwj nods

“the one who broke his string and his bow in the same day?” lxc asks, almost looking amused

lwj winces, “yes.”

“did he ever come back to the class after that?” lxc asks

lwj shakes his head, then taps the glass with a gloved finger

“has he been bothering you again?” lxc asks seriously, “if he has-“

“it’s-“ lwj sighs, “complicated.”

before lxc can make assumptions, lwj unlocks his phone and shows it to lxc

lxc reads silently for a minute or two, then his eyes widen. “he posted this on the novel’s discussion forum?”

lwj nods

“how did he even-“ lxc says, then pauses in thought, “is it because of the cello class?”

“mn, perhaps.” lwj says, “he saw the book cover i did with huaisang’s brother. he is a fan of the novel.”

“so he went and researched the models who were on the cover?” lxc frowns, “how did he even find that?”

“my name is public information.” lwj says, “it would certainly be hard to find, but it is available nonetheless.”

“are you going to be okay?” lxc asks.

“i am worried it will impact your reputation. my job is not... conventional.” lwj doesn’t meet his brother’s gaze

“wangji, that is the least of my concerns. you did not want to do conventional modelling by choice.” lxc says

he isn’t wrong, lwj hadn’t wanted to have his face photographed, it had never appealed to him. no matter how many compliments he received on his looks

his popularity started and ended within the advertising circle and nhs never offered him jobs he didn’t want. putting a face to his popular hand modelling career was not an ideal situation

especially since it had reached a lot of the novel’s fans who’d begun discussing him on other social media platforms

“i will handle this.” lxc says, “this is not right. you especially drew up contracts with advertisers to avoid this situation.”

“brother-“ lwj starts

“he should not have posted pictures of you.” lxc isn’t even drinking his iced tea, lwj notes

“it is already out. there is not much we can do.” lwj says reasonably

lxc doesn’t quite seethe but he doesn’t touch his iced coffee again

—•—

wwx finally admits to himself that he may be experiencing a slump. he hasn’t touched his tools in two months and his work bench has acquired a thick layer of dust on which jin ling drew a frowny face with his fingers then immediately tried to lick them

and what does one do when lacking motivation? harrass his brother in his cushy office at the university of course

to his credit, jc lets him prace around and poke at his things for a solid ten seconds before snapping at him. which means he and jyl must actually be worried about him

“wei wuxian” jc says through clenched teeth when wwx has pushed the paperweight on his desk to the very edge, trying to see how far jc would let him take it

ah, so not worried enough to break into his house at night, wwx notes

“so, do you think i could sell foot pics?” wwx uses his favourite new icebreaker

jc puts his head in his hands like wwx put the worlds’ weight on his shoulders. if he listens closely, he’s sure he can hear a repetition of ‘why why why why’ in jc’s head

“why...” jc forces himself to say

wwx shurgs with a grin, “i read an article about it. apparently a lot of people are into feet.”

“into... feet...” jc says

“yeah like they get off-“

jc holds up a hand to stop him, “i get it. did you come all the way across the city to ask me this?”

“yes and no.” wwx says, “i wanted to ask if you could draw me some.”

“some... feet...?” jc is going to kick him out soon, wwx can feel it

wwx places his chin in both his hands and tries to look pitiful, “isn’t it better than me buying foot pics? think of how that would reflect on you if anyone found out.”

jc feels a headache coming on, “please tell me you’re using them as reference to design anklets or something.”

wwx laughs, “of course! what did you think?”

jc glares at him, “i will ban you from campus.”

wwx bothers him a bit more and then gets thrown out more gently than he has come to expect from jc, still not sure if jc will actually fulfill his request

and maybe it’s because his luck has been down for too long that life took pity and decided to throw something good at him, he turns the corner to see one of the most beautiful men he has laid his eyes on

his attention is focused on the folder in his hands, and it’s late enough that there are no students milling the corridors. this is probably why the aforementioned beautiful, stunning, abolutely breathtaki- man manages to walk straight into wwx

several things happen at once. wwx sees it coming unlike the other person, so he reaches out to steady him. turns out there isn’t much need of that because the man gets his bearings back alarmingly fast for someone caught by surprise

the folder in his hands does not have similar balance though, and falls to the floor, splattering it’s contents halfway across the hallway

the man looks... well neutral, but the speed at which he drops to his knees lets wwx know that it’s not something he wants wwx to see

which, of course has the opposite effect. when wwx looks down to see the photographs that have not yet been put back into the folder- he is left speechless for once

the immediate and most obvious explanation is that this guy is an art student who is using these pictures as reference... but of course wwx’s first thought is Oh mY gOd this guy has a hand fetish because his talk with jc is still fresh in his head

once that thought is in his head, wwx notices a number of things in quick sequence

this dude looks uncharacteristically nervous for an innocent art student, and he’s wearing GLOVES like a CRIMINAL who’s STEALING pictures of those pretty hands from an art class for his own pleasure

art students don’t wear gloves, especially not in the middle of summer! and no one can possibly require that many pictures for just one body part

satisfied with his reasonable conclusion, wwx opens his mouth to accuse the man only to realise that he is upright once again with all his stolen pictures securely in his folder

“are you stealing those?” wwx asks straightforwardly

the man actually does seem to be caught off-guard for longer than two seconds this time

then he proceeds to walk past wwx

“hey wait!” wwx blocks his path again, “i get it, you know? we all have needs and i’m totally not judging you for it. but there are sites for this stuff.”

the man finally looks at him, and wow he’s even more attractive than wwx first thought and his eyes are so pretty and- he walks past wwx again

wwx, yet again, catches up to him and decides that walking beside him is more effective. “good quality photography like that is usually quite expensive you know?”

the man continues to ignore him so wwx grabs the folder in his hands and gives it a good yank

“what are you doing?” the man finally speaks. even his voice is nice. wwx is sure people would send him hand pics for free if he asked

“returning this to the rightful owner.” wwx holds the folder out of his reach

the man takes a deep breath, then pulls at one of his satin gloves- SATIN, how did wwx not notice that- and holds his beautiful hand up to wwx’s face

wwx’s brain immediately short circuits as he thinks ‘maybe ~I~ am the one with a hand fetish’ because that’s... one pretty hand

one... familiar hand. the same even tone, smooth skin and long, elegant fingers with perfectly manicured nails...

while he stands there, gaping like a fish, the man snatches the folder out of his hand and starts walking away with quicker strides

by the time wwx’s brain reboots and the realisation finally sinks in- he has finally found the muse he has been looking for- the man is already gone

—•—

lwj admits that he is... slightly stressed out, and is definitely showing enough signs of it that nhs has caught on

“you went to visit wen qing yesterday.” it’s not a question so lwj doesn’t answer. “did you perhaps run into an old acquaintance?”

lwj shakes his head, “it is not what you think.”

this sparks curiosity in nhs which is a toss up between better and worse than the implication that lwj’s stress stems from accidentally meeting su she at the university

“did you run into a fan?” nhs asks and it’s actually a reasonable concern since lwj wants to avoid even being /known/ at all costs

lwj shakes his head. he trusts nhs which isn’t as surprising now as it had been to him years ago when he had agreed to give nhs free reign over the work he chose for lwj

“somebody from the university knows of my identity.” lwj says finally.

nhs seems to think it over, “it was inevitable. even after taking down the blog post, people are still curious about you.”

lwj wants to tell him that it’s actually his fault but he stays silent as nhs continues his train of thought.

“you’re exciting because people have seen you without actually seeing you. you’ve worked with big brands and celebrities and it normally wouldn’t spark interest-

- but unfortunately for you, you are attractive. it will die down after a while, we just have to ride it out for now.” nhs concludes.

lwj nods, feeling reassured. nhs is usually right about these things, which is why lwj regards him so highly

he has a video shoot for some fancy kitchen installation company after that, and he tries not to think about the man who accused him of stealing his own pictures while he very slowly chops a mango on the surely unsanitary granite counter

he’s working with a photographer he knows well, one of the best in his line of work. song lan has a good eye for what would look enticing in an advert and doesn’t make him do weird, suggestive things like kneading dough in slow motion. lwj suppresses a shudder at the thought

after cutting enough magoes to feed ten people, the shoot finally wraps up and one of the PAs on the set holds out a basin for him to wash his hands in

the warm water is soothing to his aching fingers and he lets his hands soak but not for longer than a few seconds to prevent his skin from pruning. he then rubs the special concoction that is his version of the best moisturiser and puts his hands in soft cotton gloves

song lan comes to greet him after and expresses his sympathies about his pictures making rounds on the internet

lwj’s eyes widen ever so slightly, “you know of it?”

“my boyfriend is a fan.” he says with a fond shake of his head, “otherwise i’d have no idea.”

luckily before lwj can start to panic, nhs trots up to them and the conversation ends there as he’s dragged to his next shoot

—•—

“for the last time, i don’t know your ‘guy with pretty hands’.” jc says, exasperated. “what’s with you and body parts nowadays? if it’s a kink thing.. please rethink your life.”

wwx sighs. he knew going to jc was useless, but at least it confirmed his suspicion that the guy isn’t an art student

however, that makes the task of finding him and then begging him to model wwx’s jewellery harder. because yes, wwx has spent the last five days cooped up in his workshop making complex hand chains

now if he only had more than a memory to draw inspiration from...

it’s frustrating. wwx should have at least asked for his name and number. how can he be this stupid?

“very easily.” is jc’s reply to this

“jiang chengggg.” wwx whines, “i have to find him or my creativity will die a horrible death.”

jc looks like he is ageing before his eyes. “if i ask around the staff will you promise to only come to my office during emergencies? you’re freaking my students out.”

“yes!” wwx agrees enthusiastically, then frowns. “freaking them out? i’m so nice to everyone!”

“you tried to get at least five of my students to draw your pretty boy from description.” jc deadpans, “they think he’s a criminal.”

“a criminal after my heart, aha!” wwx says with finger guns.. and gets thrown out by jc for his efforts. it’s less gentle this time

a few days later, jc calls him, “apparently ‘his identity needs to be protected’. is he actually a criminal?”

“he was wearing gloves...” wwx mutters, “i’m kidding! not about the gloves, but i don’t think he’s a criminal.”

jc makes a doubtful noise on the other end. “well, whatever. so yeah, anyway, i can’t get wen qing to tell me anything. you can come bully her yourself if you dare to.”

“why does it have to be wen qing?” wwx groans, “she’ll roast me on low flame before she tells me anything. why couldn’t it be wen ning— wait. wen ning probably knows him too. jiang cheng i’m a genius!”

jc hangs up on him but it doesn’t dampen his spirits at all. he’s so close to finding him.

—•—

shoots where he has to hold objects for an extended period of time are already unkind to his muscles, but holding objects with /postures/ is even worse. his fingers are so stiff after his seven hour shoot with swarovski that when one of the assistants on set hands him a cup of warm tea, it slips right through his grip and shatters on the ground unceremoniously

everyone freezes, and then start to buzz around him, asking if he is feeling unwell or if he needs to sit down. because lwj never drops /anything/. it’s in his job description NOT to drop anything

god, lwj hates jewellery shoots the most

nhs hears about this, ofc. lwj suspects he can be at multiple places at a time. so lwj is neatly packed into a SUV and sent away to get a relaxing massage and manicure

lwj would usually put up a fight but his muscles have been aching for days and nhs has theatened to text his brother at least three times this week. he doesn’t want to risk a fourth

wen ning, the meek but kind masseuse greets him with a bow, “lan er-gongzi, are you well?”

lwj nods, and is about to ask about wn as well when he hears the door of the masseuse parlour bang open behind him

“you!” comes a shout and lwj turns around, alarmed

the man who accused him of stealing his own pictures is standing there, pointing a finger at him

“if i was unclear the last time, i did not steal those photographs.” lwj says

the man seems stunned for two seconds, then frowns. “steal.. i know that you didn’t steal them.”

lwj nods, then starts to walk further into the parlour- except for the hand that grips and brings him to a stop. lwj would usually rip his hand away, but the slight pressure sends pain shooting up his arm

and lwj definitely didn’t realise how stiff his muscles were until then. he must have made a noise, a mixture between surprise and a wince, because the man lets go immediately

“are you okay?” he asks, looking alarmed

lwj closes his eyes to compose himself

“wei-gongzi, what are you doing here?” lwj hears wen ning ask

“i came to find him.” the man replies

lwj’s eyes open in shock. find him? does he know of lwj’s identity? is he a fan of the novel? this has gotten way bigger than either lwj or nhs predicted if people are actively seeking him out

“i think you have misunderstood.” lwj says, projecting a calm exterior even though he’s feeling a little cornered. cornered.. by a single person... what has his life come to?

but today it’s one person, next... he doesn’t even want to think about it. he has never wanted to be in the public light and does not want the /crowd/ and god forbid- the /noise/ that comes with it

he had gotten comfortable in the happy equilibrium of popularity and anonymity- the only thing which had lured him into accepting this job and has kept him in it thus far

... and it seems to be crumbling right before his eyes

“what? no i haven’t. i wouldn’t forget your face.” the man says, “hey stop running away-“

but lwj is already walking past him to exit the massage parlour. he needs to call someone. nhs most probably. or a cab.

the other man is speedy though, and blocks him right at the door, extending his arms and legs to cover the width of the opening as if lwj was thinking of sneaking around him. (he was, but that’s not the point)

“okay maybe i’ve come across as creepier than expected.” the man says, “but i swear i just want your hands!”

[wen ning shakes his head furiously in the background]

the panic lwj feels must be enough to be showing on his usually blank face, because the man backtracks

“i mean- no- that came off as even creepier oh my god. i’m not a serial killer, i promise.”

[wen ning makes a big X over his head with his arms]

the man takes a deep breath and actually seems to think before speaking this time, “hi, my name is wei ying. i’m a jeweller by profession. what’s your name?”

“move aside.” lwj says.

“do you promise not to run and actually hear me out? because it was so hard to track you down, god, it took me a week!”

[wn texting nhs: pls come and save lwj i think he’s about to faint]

“a week...” lwj says, “you tracked me down for a week?”

“no! i mean yes but not in a stalker way!” wwx seems to be having a mini meltdown, “you know just nice good ol’ asking around about the cute guy i saw at the uni... not... stalking...”

luckily lwj’s phone begins to ring, cutting wwx off. [wen ning is very thankful for this. he doesn’t think having the police here would be good for business]

“brother.” lwj says, still a little strung up

“wangji, i’m almost there.”

“what?”

“huaisang told me you were ill,” lxc says, “and i was in the area so i told him i’d take you to the doctor.”

lwj turns to give wen ning a scathing look. “he exaggerated. i’m fine. you don’t have to come here.”

lwj doesn’t think his brother will take the fact that he has acquired a stalker well

“i’m outside.” lxc says

lwj resists the urge to sigh. he’s going to strangle everyone in this room, then himself

“i’ll be there in a minute then.” lwj says.

“i’m making my way to the parlour.” lxc says, disregarding him completely

“brother i can walk.” lwj says calmly. murder is on his mind.

lxc hangs up on him. lwj actually sighs this time.

“if you don’t want my brother to report you, you need to move aside.” lwj says to wwx.

wwx opens his mouth as if he wants to continue to dig himself into a hole, but then moves aside degectedly

then he removes a business card from his wallet and puts it in lwj’s shirt pocket.

“you can look me up, i’m not lying. i really am a jeweller and i’d like to work with you.” he says

before lwj can protest, lxc is already at the entrance, carrying what looks like half the pharmacy in a paperbag

“wangji.” he greets, and then pauses to nod politely at the other men, “let’s go.”

lwj follows him silently

—•—

wen ning sighs and flips the sign on the door to ‘closed’ resigning to the fact that wwx will remain a permanent fixture on his floor for a while

“so you thought he was a creepy thief and now he thinks you’re a creepy stalker?” wn asks.

wwx, who has told him all of this between groans, groans again.

“do you... want a free massage?” wn offers

“yes.”

lwj fights the urge to touch his shirt pocket while in the car with lxc.

“you need to go to the hospital wangji, you don’t look well.” lxc insists

“i will eat every medicine in that bag if you drop me off at huaisang’s office.” lwj replies

lxc looks alarmed, “you’ll definitely need to go to the hospital then.”

“i will eat every medicine in that bag if you /don’t/ drop me off at huaisang’s office.” lwj amends, neatly closing all the loopholes

“at least let me come with you.” lxc says in his last ditch attempt to find out exactly what has left his brother so rattled

“i will eat-“

“fine okay. i just worry about you, you know? you never tell me when something is bothering you anymore.” lxc says

“if it is important, i will tell you.” lwj says. he doesn’t want lxc to worry but also doesn’t want to lie.

lxc nods, accepting this, then turns the car around

—•—

“wei wuxian.” nhs raises an eyebrow at the card lwj has placed on his table. “this is the man who has been stalking you?”

lwj nods.

“are you certain?” nhs asks, looking conflicted.

lwj gives him a look.

“okay, okay! just making sure!” nhs says, raising his palms in defence.

“you know of him.” lwj states.

“well,” nhs says, “he didn’t lie to you, he really is a jeweller. he is very elusive though. he tends to drop these groundbreaking collections every fall and then disappears.”

lwj tries to align the man he met today with this talented, cryptic jeweller persona. if they really are the same person, then perhaps unhinged genius fits him better.

“if he’s serious about working with you...” nhs gets a gleam in his eyes that lwj doesn’t like. this is /not/ how he pictured this conversation going. he’s slowly but surely developing a migrane

“look, i’m never going to force you to do anything.” nhs says, “but will you let me speak to him first? i want to know if this he’s the real deal of if we need a restraining order.”

restraining order. this is escalating way past lwj’s mental capacity at the moment.

nhs seems to see that, “you need to go home and rest. i’ll have a masseuse meet you there. let me handle this.”

he says it with such firm conviction that lwj has no choice but to trust him, so he nods.

[Part 2] [Part 3]

#wangxian fic #wangxian #lan wangji #wei wuxain #lwj x wwx #lan zhan #wei ying #the unatmed #cql #mdzs #my fics #hand model au #long fic

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greatchildarcade · 4 years

Text

Short Stories that blows your mind.

Story name: TOFFEE

Written by me!

Toffee:

Many incidents happen in human life, but people cannot remember all of it. Some remain in the memory and some are lost in the world of oblivion. I may not remember all the events that have taken place in my short life , but one event that I cannot forget even when I try to forget it again and again but it is like a vague picture of sadness floating in the door of my mind . Maybe I will never forget this memory!! Today I will talk about that memory which is very sad and painful .

Shyamalpur is a small village. The village looks very gallant and decorous with the ceremony of palm and coconut trees. Blue sky over the head with expansive green paddy fields below , the winding paths, shrubs on both sides of the road , songs of cuckoos were heard in morning and evening. In the morning the aroma of the flowers wafts in the cool gentle breeze!! Palash flowers falling spread over the road and turned it red . A small river flows to the north of the village named 'Champa' . On both sides of the river a group of white cranes sit in an alliance in the hope of hunting. Biku, the fisherman with his small boat fishes in the river till late night . His 'Bhatiali' song floats in the air and could be heard from afar! In the evening when the lamps are lit in the houses in both sides of the river , the sky lamp floats in the sky , moonlight plays in the water of the river at night !! On the banks of Champa was 'Chhabi' aunt's small house. Only her two-year-old son was the lifeblood of her life. 'Bhavananda' was Chhabi mashi's spouse worked as a little clerk somewhere in Kolkata. He used to come home once a month with his family expenses and leave for Kolkata on Sunday afternoon. Mashi lived alone with her son in a small mud house but at the touch of her hand the mud house really turned into a picture. The walls of the room and 'Tulsi Mancha' beside the house was beautifully painted with 'alpona' there were some flowers next to the Tulsi mancha, a few Chrysanthemum aparajita flowers bloom every evening and morning . A bamboo fence around the flower trees surrounded in a circular manner. There were two bellflower trees on either side of the fence lots of bell flowers bloomed and the smell filled the whole house. Aunt was a very beautiful woman to look at. Her name Chhabi which means picture, actually approved her beauty! She had curly hair up to her waist, very fair complexion. She used to wear red 'bindi'on forehead and 'alta' on her feet. At times she roamed around wearing anklet and the sweet sound of her anklets kept the house inebriated.

She was not too old, maybe within 24 to 25 years. His son was as good looking as his mother. The baby was 3 years old with fair complexion, curly hair, big dark eyes and his and his Limbs were soft and fluffy his face was like a lotus flower pure and innocent Mashi use to put a big Kajal Bindi on his forehead anyone would love to hug the baby and take him in their arms the innocence in his face fascinated everyone his name was 'Utsav'. Utsav means festival. Mashi affectionately called him by this name. To every mother her son is a source of joy and celebration maybe that was the reason why Mashi named her son so. When Utsav's small feet moved towards her mother's lap the sounds of his anklets tingled my mind. I caressed him everytime I visited their place.

Like every other day I was going to school by the path beside mashi's house , I saw Mashi was teaching the baby to walk.

From a distance I saw Mashi raising her arms and calling the boy to come and Utsav oncestruggling to walk, was falling once with his two legs and again getting up smiling and walking towards his mother's lap. Mashi wrapped Utsav around her arms and affectionately kissed him on the face . Mashi took the milk bowl in front of his face to feed him, Utsav gripped the bowl with his tiny hands so the milk flipped out on his face. Utsav kept smiling at this and her mother cleaned his face with her saree.

Mashi used to love me a lot . Often she asked me to visit their place.

On one Thursday , for some reason it was a school holiday. So I went to Mashi's house . She gave me a slip to sit on . But I did not find Utsav there, so I asked her, "Where is Utsav ?? I cannot see him!!" Mashi pointed her finger at the room. There I saw him with a small nursery rhyme book and he was reciting some poems. As soon as I called him, he ran to me and sat on my lap. He started pulling my hair with his small hands, I felt so good but still I pretended to Mashi and said you see Mashi your son is so naughty!! he is pulling my hair! Mashi said to Utsav , "lokkhishona lokkhi bapon, don't pull her hair, it's hurting ". Then and there Utsav left my hair and got down from my lap and went to her mother.

The baby was trying to go to her mother's lap but since Mar she was busy cooking she said but I am cooking pesh for you it is your favourite Na actually it was Utsav birthday that's why I was invited after completing cooking both the dressed Utsav with the new cotton dress made by maa she herself Utsav was so happy having that dress that he kept on showing his dress to everyone then we we had lunch Utsav enjoyed the Paresh with body fit him while sitting Hona lap on her mother's lap he laughed screamed hopped and again kissed Mashi I had a great time over there on one day on one Tuesday we had half day in school I went back home early in the afternoon while going back I found Mashi a sleep and Utsav was playing with his dolls on the Vishwakarma puja I went to Kolkata and came back home at night probably around 8 or 8:30 p.m. moonlight fell on marshes house and through the window I could see Mashi trying to put Utsav to sleep by singing Ghum parani Mashi pishi so I didn't knock them . After a few days I went back to Kolkata again in the Durga Puja. Before departing I met mashi and Utsav. Utsav asked me , "My toffee??" I assured him that I will definitely bring him good toffees as I come back from Kolkata.

Almost one month later , I returned home from Kolkata. I went to mashi's house but saw no lamps were lit. The house was totally in darkness. I thought they might have been asleep so I started my journey back home. My home was on the other bank of river Champa . As I boarded on the boat to cross the river I heard a weeping sound. I focused on the sound and exactly heard a woman crying, but it suddenly disappeared .

Next morning I went to the river bank while my mother was still asleep. But I found some people standing in a huddle and mourning over someone's death . Moving ahead of the crowd, I find Chaabi Mashi. Her lifeless body was lying in the quagmire! Har clothes were grubby , a bunch of her curly hair lying in the mud was untidy and baffled. She jumped into the water and died .

Mashi was no more !!!

Immediate after realizing this my mind became filled with tears. I wanted to cry but holding back my emotions I asked a man beside, "Where is her son?? Utsav? " The man said, "Her son?? He had died long back" .

Hearing this I couldn't hold back my tears any more. I burst out into tears and screamed , "O my dear Utsav!!" I asked the man, "How did he die ?" The man said, "His mother was cooking when Utsav was playing with his dolls. The toddler came to the river bank and accidentally slipped and fell into the wwater. The demon Champa dragged him away, he sunk in the river forever . From then on the woman was mentally distorted. She came to the river bank, cried every night and left in the morning. Yesterday also we heard her weeping and this morning we find her dead! Maybe out of the sorrow of her son's death she jumped into the river and died!

The toffee I brought for Utsav remained in my hands!!

I will never be able to see Utsav in my entire life this grief will stay with me forever I don't know why I but I couldn't threw away the toffee I was feeling like to hug Utsav, take him into my arms and kiss him and say , " See dear! your didi has brought you the toffee you were waiting for! "

As the usual days I was going to school by the side of mashi's house. The house don't have the beauty and daintiness like before! The house is crumbling. Many flowers have bloomed in the trees a lot of weeds have grown around the house. Bhavananda left his job in Kolkata and came here a few months back but he too died a few days ago due to serious illness .

Today there is no one in that house !

Son and mother's laughter can no longer be heard there ! A few red- blue flowers on the stock of the Chrysanthemum Aparajita tree blooms every morning and evening. Seeing those flowers on the lap of the trees I aggrieved, "O God ! why did you destroy the trees and flowers of that house ?? how beautifully the baby flower had bloomed in the Mother's lap - Utsav giggling in mashi's lap.

After losing them why did you just keep those bell flowers blooming? You drop them too. Having flowers in a house with no mother and son is just a ridicule! "

- by Shreya Paul

#special collections #beauty #nature

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claihn · 4 years

Text

Impulse

[[ Warning: Bugs. Violence. Language. ]]

“So... you're not mad?” Two shadows flickered against the wooden wall opposite from twin flickering candles. The lights rested upon a table nestled against a window frame and a blanket of stars twinkled behind the glass. The familiar scent of the ocean, leather and spice blanketed Kini like an old shawl that threatened to tempt her into relaxation. This was a quiet place that was absent of confusion, muddling ideas and loud voices. “No,” A'khato rumbled. His large, calloused hands navigated a roll of bandages with meticulous precision around his sister's fingers. Her other arm was already fully wrapped with snug support that covered the entirety of her hands all the way up to her elbows. She winced when he brought a cloth, saturated in pungent minty mix, and wiped at some of the blistered lacerations. The area was then patted dry before he went to work again, little by little bandaging up her injuries. “Why?” Kini couldn't help but whisper, biting her lower lip. Her watery blue eyes surveyed his stern features, noting how there was an edge to his expression, but it was distant. Almost satisfied. His medium-length, wild cut locks of ebony hair were tousled in various directions and the charcoal paint on his cheek was smudged to the side. His motions paused and his lips pursed at her question, until he dragged his gaze up at her with a flicker of annoyance. Kini winced an apologetic smile and ducked her head with ears flattening sideways. Oops. “You've always been impulsive. Do better next time. This mistake could've made you useless, and don't let it slow down your work.” He reprimanded her, although his words were flat and bored sounding. He went back to navigating the bandages. The silence between them grew palpable, as was the knowledge that both siblings knew the question was unanswered. He'd given a response, of course. Yet just as A'khato could read Kini with little trouble, so could she pick up on his tells. He was calm, but he was too focused on simple motions. His tail was actively twitching back and forth. What aren't you telling me? She knew better than to prod an agitated King. At least this time.

She had her back pressed against the warm, stoned wall of the hallway. He smelled like ale and herbs, especially as he crowded his body against hers. Pudgy, greedy hands wandered over her frame and Kini could feel his breath against her right ear. It made her flinch and she'd asked him politely to leave that side alone, but for some reason people always mistook her. Clearly she trembled because she enjoyed it. She flinched because it was sensitive. She was just playing coy. I hate it. Her eyes were glancing past him though, and instead she absently nodded at the words he was mumbling. Something about smells and fancy clothes. It was hard to hear when he was mouth breathing against her right side instead of her left. She found herself focusing on the light beneath the crack of the doorway that led into the living room. Kini could faintly hear the deep, baritone voice of her brother along with a higher, barked voice of the woman he was meeting with. This was a job that her brother had asked her to come along as a temptation. Almost like old times, except now he thought she should be better as a “professional” distraction. Kini didn't mind. It gave her a flutter of happiness to be of use on one of his missions, even if it was a boring one without any fighting. Those were always her favorite. She enjoyed using her magic to assist him, while he killed anything that stood in his way. He was a force of nature. A force of nature that sometimes she was lucky enough to protec-no. Assist. Behold. Adore. “Fucking distracted?!” The man hissed as he gripped the top of her shoulder and gave her a shake. Kini's eyes snapped back to attention to flash him a delicate, apologetic wince. “S-sorry! I just thought I heard something. You seem very nice.” She bumbled out the words, although the stuffy man sneered in response. His fingers dug a little more into her skin, while the other scrunched up the airy, cotton fabric of her skirt and began to roughly yank at it. Once, twice and then the sound of tearing along with the painful stretch of the opposite side cutting into her skin announced the gaining success of his goal. “Even dressed up all fancy, guess you're still just a novice whore, huh? That's fine. You're gonna be here a loooong time. Plenty of suns, moons to train you to be a real slut.” His eyes glittered darkly and Kini felt a lump rise in her throat, even more than his pressing weight. “N-no. I'm j-just here as my brother's assistant. When he's done, I have to leave too. I already have a jo-” Her words were cut off by a barking laugh from the man. His greasy fingers on her shoulders instead moved to her neck and he leaned into the motion. Kini acted on instinct and drew in a quick, squelched gasp before a pressured strain began to build in her face from the lack of air. “Stupid kitten. Your brother is going to die here tonight. All this is just a wasted effort and he just brought a little prize for our game. So jus-”

The man was still talking, but the rest of his words drizzled away. Perhaps it was the frantic pounding of her heart or the pressure in her ears. Your brother is going to die. Why was it always her brother? A furrowed brow from a stranger. A clatter of knives. A bite to the neck. Desperation. Panic. A murmur of disapproval. Warm, questioning words between sips of honey-mead. Isolation. A threatened hand. I need him. My savior. My King. Don't take him away from me. Don't take him away from me. Don'ttakehimawayfromme! DON'T FUCKING TOUCH HIM. Kini's eyes widened as they locked onto the man, but there was no flicker of fear. There was a heavy pause of staring into the eyes like an unhinged doll before silvery blue light spilled from her pupils to engulf her vision. She grabbed the man's arms, nails digging like a vice with a false sense of strength. The warm, pleasant air of the room plummeted like a stone and the man felt an annoying, tiny bite upon his wrist. Then another upon his elbow. Two near his hands. Two became four, four became twenty, twenty became a hundred and the biting pinpricks rapidly dominated his body. Kini stared blankly at him, ignoring the growing chill of his body as rime formed upon her own arms, harmlessly blossoming here or there upon the man's own bulbous form. He, however, stared in horror as skittering, chittering bugs of all shapes and sizes burrowed their way out of his skin. They tore through muscle, wriggling and bulging just underneath flesh. Thousands of legs tickled at every inch of him, both inside and out. They filled his lungs. They consumed his tongue. They crawled over his eyes and churned in his stomach. The man screamed, threw Kini to the side and fled to the door. He battered against it once, twice and three times before he broke his nose but managed to get it open. A'khato and the woman inside both started from where they sat across from each other at a dining table. The man barely made through the entrance before he collapsed on the floor, spasming and spittling at the mouth. His scream was silent, skin sickly but otherwise alive even if he looked blankly to the side from his new slobbering spot upon the floor. No bugs. No blood. Only flecks of inconsequential ice.

Kini's eyes had returned to normal and she staggered through the doorway, leaning against the frame. Her face was blanched, breath heavy and her partially rimed arms hung loosely at her sides with spidery, dark bruises along their lengths to compliment the smattering of bleeding blisters. Yet her expression was cold and unflinching. The collapsed piece of garbage went completely ignored in favor of looking to her brother, voice deadpan. “A'khato, they're trash.”

“Do you want me to be mad at you?” A'khato's voice broke the silence when he finished bandaging her arms. He peered up at her, searching. Kini quickly shook her head. She noticed the yellow, gold and black bracelet that he wore around his wrist. The ribbons had been carefully braided until they were thickly corded with a flat, obsidian gem nestled in the center. She closed her eyes, drew in a deep breath and made a show of wiggling her fingers with a wince. “G-good as new!” He rolled his eyes and rose from his seat, gesturing to the bed. “Rest here. When you leave tomorrow, don't be stupid and bother with your bag. You can get it another time.” A'khato sighed, rubbed the back of his neck and stretched languidly a moment after. His footsteps carried him to the doorway where he paused and glanced over his shoulder back at his sister. Golden eyes narrowed into slits and a sinuous growl formed into words. “Don't do that ever again.” He left. A muffled clatter of plates announced his location in the kitchen a few minutes later. She ducked her head and found toes wiggling to jingle the bell attached to her thin anklet. He hadn't waited for the answer, but she was grateful for the mercy. They both knew it was an empty promise to make, but even so- Kini couldn't help but capture a sliver of happiness from it.

#RP shenanigans #kini #writing #ffxiv #balmung #crystal #oc #a'kini khotan #a'khato tia #The Risk #Truth & Error

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talesfromthegameff14 · 4 years

Text

Wreckage

[Warnings: Reference to violence, child and adult arguing]

Aya stood between the kitchen and the overturned dining table, eyes focused on the door until the wail of a very upset baby broke through the heart shattering pain that gripped him. Unsteady, the Uyagir took a few steps towards the stairs, not realizing just how hurt he was from the brief tussle with C’tolemy. That was why his reflexes were slow when Terbish came hurtling at him from the office where she had been spying. <”WHAT DID YOU DO TO PAPPO?!? WHY DID YOU MAKE HIM LEAVE?!”>

Normally her barreling into him had little impact, but this time he didn’t have time to brace himself. He barely managed to turn his hip so her small hands hit that with all the force she could muster. It sent Aya stumbling to the side, trying to keep his balance as his head swam from cracking it against the pillar when Tolemy tossed him away. <”I didn’t...”> <”YES YOU DID! BRING HIM BACK!”>, Terbish’s voice was high pitched, shrill as she yelled and dashed forward to push Aya again. <”I want my Pappo!”> She connected with her uncle in a rush of fear fueled fury. <GO GET HIM OR HE WON’T COME BACK LIKE MAMA!”> The tears came then, wild and heart wrenching. The young girl stared up at her uncle as if daring him to defy her, adopting the stance Kojhin had taught her to throw a punch or a kick without thought. This time it was the kitchen bar that kept Aya from tipping over entirely, the guilt from Terbish’s words hit harder than her shove to his thigh. He gripped the wood hard enough for claws to score it, matching the gouges C’tolemy left on the floor and leather seats, when he fought Aya with the single minded purpose to leave. <”He’ll come back.”>, he replied sharp and hoarse, staring back at Terbish even as his heart whispered that it was a lie. <”What if he doesn’t!? They said she’d come home too and SHE DIDN’T!”> She charged him again, desperate to make him go get C’tolemy. This time he had enough presence of mind to catch her and lift her up off of the floor, pulling her against his chest to try and soothe. <”He’ll come back Terbish. Your Pappo loves you, yes?”> <”So did Mama!”>, comes the distraught wail as small fists beat at him ineffectually. <”She didn’t come back. Make him come back!”> The wail rung in Aya’s horns, adding to the pounding headache he was just starting to become aware of as adrenaline steadily faded from his system. The entire time Mede’s cries from downstairs became louder and louder as well, the boy not used to being ignored for this long. <”Stop yelling Terbish, I’ll get him back.”> <”NOW!“> Physically recoiling from her yelling in his face, Aya sets Terbish down and snaps at her, <”Stop yelling!”> <”BRING BACK PAPPO!”> He didn’t think, too much pain had his patience in shreds, his hand came up and back. <”I said to be quiet Terbish!”>, the words growled down to her. The girls eyes went wide and she turned and bolted, going down the stairs as fast as she could. <”Don’t hit me! I’ll be good! I promise!”>, was cried out between loud sobs that she was trying very hard to stop. He said to be quiet, she had to be quiet, she had to be good. The Uyagir takes a half step to follow her when the fear in Terbish’s voice and eyes clicked. Abruptly the man froze in place, horrified gaze fixed upon the stairs. It’s several heartbeats before Aya’s hand dropped to his side, balled into a tight fist, claws dug into skin, eyes squeezed shut as he struggled to regain some semblance of calm. <”What did I almost do?”> The whisper was strained and shaky, ending with him bring the back of his other hand across his eyes. A few more deep breaths and he reached up to the linkpearl, shaking more now. It was all so wrong, so very, very wrong. <”Dunrai? Can you come home now please. I, I need your help.> He managed to keep his voice even, but from his husband’s immediate response it didn’t do anything to keep the other man from worry. <”I, yes. I, please come home.”>

~~Later that Evening~~

As steady as always, Dunrai got both Terbish and Aya settled for the evening. Food and a story for the girl, healing and a story for Aya, before the exhausted Dazkar fell asleep himself, back cuddled up against his husband’s side. Aya almost had Dunrai put him to sleep, but at the last moment changed his mind, feigning sleep until he heard and felt the even rhythm of Dunrai’s breath once he finally drifted off.

Wedging the pillow in various angles so he can manage it, Aya shifted onto his side, eyes focused on the door to the bedroom. The house was too quiet. There was no familiar creak of a light footed miqo’te on the floor boards, followed by the jingle of anklets that was an almost ever present music these days. A way to know that C’tolemy was there, and to ensure that he never accidentally snuck up on Ayanga which was very much appreciated by the Uyagir. It had taken a while to get used to the bell like sound, to sleep through it as it was normal. Now that it was gone? He couldn’t sleep either. Aya kept hoping to hear the door open up to be followed by the chime of jewelry that the slightest creak or bump from outside had his eyes opening back up and looking upwards at the ceiling. The brief flash of hope each time that happened crashed down lower and lower every time the soft jingle never followed it. C’tolemy was gone. And despite Dunrai’s assurances, Ayanga wasn’t convinced that the Seeker was ever going to come back. [Dunrai belongs to @dunrai-ffxiv C’tolemy belongs to @ala-mhinyan]

#OC Stories #tw: violence #ayanga uyagir #also Khenbish #featuring terbish #heartbreak incomming #IC drama best drama

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cloudycrystalkpop · 5 years

Text

Starfall

pairing characters: Zitao + the coven of VIXX

summary: clan of delphi au | Tao finds himself in the midst of the mysterious coven of vixx

warnings: a touch of hoodoo

words: 1.6k

The small bells over the door chimed in greeting as he stepped into the apothecary. The tall man behind the desk glanced up. His pointed features and scowling eyes gave Tao a feeling he wasn’t very welcome.

“Excuse me,” he stepped up to the counter, offering the man a smile. “I was told there was a fortune teller here.”

The man didn’t speak for a moment, not bothering to look up at Tao until he had finished crushing the leaves in his hands.

“He’s busy at the moment.” The scowling man’s voice was much higher in pitch then Tao had expected.

“Ah, that’s alright, i don’t mind waiting.” Tao turned at sat himself in a chair in the corner of the room.

Looking around, he observed the atmosphere of the place. The walls were a deep navy blue, with accents of a metallic gold in the trim. The ceiling sparkled like a dancing night sky. Behind the deck were many walls lined with shelves, each home to a different plant. Midnight flowers and dark ferns hidden from the bright golden light of the window.

Tao’s eyes fell to the hallway as he heard footsteps.

“Taekwoon~ have you seen that little rabbit i found earlier? Oh god if Hyuk finds that thing there is no telling what he might-“ the man stopped his sentence as he entered the front room, spotting Tao instantly. “oh hello! I didn’t see you there.” The man’s voice was higher in pitch and he spoke with a friendly smile.

The scowling witch, Taekwoon, passed a glance at the new man, nodding to Tao and where he sat in the corner. The new man seemed to understand.

“you are here for a fortune telling?” The brighter man turned to Tao as he stood.

“yes, if you please.” Tao nodded politely. The man blinked at him, studying him closely, before a small grin traced his lips and be breathed the faintest chuckle.

“alright, he’s back in the garden. If you would please follow me.” He held back the many strings of beads that acted as a door. Tao stepped through and found himself entering the world M had called home for so long.

The two tall men watched this stranger from the shadows. His heels clicked and the fur he wore ruffled in the slight wind. This stranger certainly looked expensive. His hair was perfect, not a strand out of place, and his eyes nicely rimmed in black to match his perfect nails.

“that hast to be him.” The younger spoke.

“what are you thinking Hyuk?” The elder asked. Hyuk grinned a devilish smile.

“if he really wants to be Mori’s mentor, let’s see if he can handle a little spook shall we?” Hyuk’s eyes sparkled at the idea of mischief.

Tao followed the man out and into the garden. The area was bright, countless plants grew there, all thriving and full of life. The flowers seemed to stretch just a bit more as the man before him walked passed. He didn’t have to be an Oracle to tell, this man had fae blood.

“Hakyeon, there is a man here to see you.” He called out into the darker part of the garden. A moment later, the Seer amerged.

“thank you Jaehwan.” He nodded to the fae as he turned to leave, offering Tao another smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“come along Zitao, have a seat.” Tao shouldn’t have been surprised at hearing his full name, but it still caught him off guard. He followed the mans instructions and sat at the small table.

The table was a dark black marble, with glowing golden specks in the perfect formations for constellations.

Hakyeon sat across from him, resting his elbows on the table and resting his chin on his folded hands.

“she’s still running i imagine.” The elder spoke calmly. Tao swallowed. He wasn’t really intimidated by other seers anymore. But this man before him, the whole vibe of this place was just so... different.

“i, need some help.” He hated those words. So many years he’d spent independent, and one child has brought him to a loss.

Hakyeon smiled at his words.

“it isn’t everyday i find a Delphi at my doorstep asking for advice on mentorship.” The elder man chuckled.

“she found you, found your coven, she chose you and trusts you.” Tao squared his shoulders, gathering his confidence. “i need to earn the same trust, but she won’t let me.”

“indeed, Mori trusts myself and my coven mates greatly.” Hakyeon nodded, closing his eyes. “but you are mistaken if you believe i was her favorite.”

Tao paused.

“Mori needs someone, to be her friend. She needs someone like her. If it had been only me she felt close with, she would have moved on a long time ago.” Hakyeon smiled as he watched the younger man before him put all this together.

“she is... rather fond of that alchemist.” Tao mumbled quietly. He quickly raised his head to look the other man in the eyes “you know what that boy is, right?”

“i know he doesn’t fully know himself.” Hakyeon laid back in his chair. “they are still children, still learning and discovering who they are.”

Tao took another breath. While he knew all of these things, he didn’t seem to be remembering them while actually trying to convince her.

“you shouldn’t take her rejection so harshly. How many times have you actually spoken to her?” Hakyeon raised his brows at the man before him.

Tao fell silent at this question. The sound of laughter came from outside the hedge. Hakyeon breathed a sigh as Tao jumped.

“you’re too much of a coward to even try and talk to her!” the cause of the snickers poked his head around the hedge.

“Hyuk, i thought you were chasing that little white rabbit?” Hakyeon scolded the youngest for his eavesdropping.

“Jaehwan screamed at me, so i let him go.” The man shrugged. “i guess i’ll start walking through the woods again, i really do need a pelt.”

Tao scanned the young man before him. Youngest of the coven, darker in arua then the members he’s already met. He had a smile behind his eyes that sung of trouble. The dirt and blood under his nails combined with the stitching on his jacket, sung quiet hymns of a hoodoo witch doctor.

A woven bracelet he wore reminded him greatly of another he had seen. An anklet worn by Mori with the same colors and patterns, the only slight variation was the beetle charm on his as opposed to the key on hers. It had been quite a while since Tao had seen beetles in magic.

This man’s craft was sand and desert based, while Mori’s was from the deep marsh.

Tao was distracted from his thoughts by a fluttering feeling on his cheek. he brushed away the moth, causing it to float down to the table. the three men watched at the moth slowly died, it’s wings falling off and turning to ash.

“how... odd.” Tao swallowed hard, staring at the insect. he felt his heart pound in his ears, that moth should’ve been fine, nothing happened to it. was it because it touched him? was it happening again?

another snicker came from the younger man.

“now Hyuk, was that really necessary?” the scolding voice of Hakyeon pulled Tao back to the present. Hyuk reached down, placing his hand over the pile of ash. a shiver ran down Tao’s spine as the air around the witch became heavy. when he lifted his hand, the small moth was resurrected, fluttering back into the air.

“come on now, it’s just a bit of harmless fun.” Hyuk chimed. Tao looked up at the young man, watching him closely. suddenly Mori’s friendship with this man added another layer of depth. the mischief in his eyes ran all too familiar to Tao.

“resurrection is quite a specialized gift.” Tao spoke, leaning back in his chair. “you may want to be careful, there is always the possibility, of mistakes being made.”

Hyuk’s sparkling eyes narrowed at the oricle.

Tao stood from his seat, offering Hakyeon a polite smile. “thank you for the reading sir. i have much to think about.” Hakyeon watched him closely, nodding at his words. “now gentlemen, i will be on my way.”

“Hyuk, how about you show our guest out, hm?” Hakyeon nodded to the younger man. Tao clenched his teeth, as the witch began leading him back through the guardan.

Hyuk didn’t say a word as he lead Tao to the gate, but just before the oricle could step through, he grabbed his fur coat, yanking him back for a moment.

“excuse me! this is very expensive-” Tao was cut off by the dark tone in the hoodoo witch’s voice.

“no matter what you and your cult believe about covens, Morganna is our little sister. we are her home and family. and if i find you have done something to harm her, something to disrespect her, i promise you, you and your cult of oracles will have nightmares of the horrors we have in store for you. in this life and the rest to come.” he stared the man down, his eyes bubbling with warning.

Tao was silent, simply watching the man.

“you have my word, she will never be held against her will.” Tao’s voice was steady as he shoved the other witch off him. Hyuk snarled, but backed away.

Tao watched at the witch doctor wandered back into the shadows, disappearing back to the coven ground. there was a lingering feeling of weight on his chest. he had a sinking feeling, a part of him knew, that moth was more than just a test. it was a warning.

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ecoamerica · 25 days

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youtube

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

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thewitchwithoutvoice-blog · 6 years

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REINTRODUCING

Aoi Shibunuri

“If I told you about her, the princess without voice, what would I say?”

Hello everyone! Aoi has gone through a bit of a change, and by that I mean she’s an entirely different race now. She was a Raen but I just wasn’t really...feeling it. I tried giving Midlander a go for a few days and holy biscuits does it feel amazing. Also Hyurs...under appreciated. So, I already posted one of these for the Raen Aoi, but I can’t for the life of me figure out how to edit the post itself so I will be reposting it instead of reblogging so that it isn’t a nasty block of text on top of another. There won’t be any changes really, expect for some physical changes. She’s still the same person, just a Hyur now. Thank you for taking the time to read this ^^

NAME: Aoi Shibunuri

AGE: Twenty-Six

RACE: Hyur (Midlander)

GENDER: Female

SEXUALITY: Demisexual

DISABILITY(s)?: Yes, she is mute from birth.

MARITAL STATUS: Single

SERVER: Balmung

physical appearance ––––

HAIR: Dark brown. Slight wave near the ends of her hair. She had shorter hair but it has grown quite long since. It has reached a bit past her hips currently. She likes to keep it down most of the time but sometimes styles it with the casual half up half down, sometimes a half french braid, leaving the rest to flow down her back. If she’s working, she likes to tie it up into a bun or a ponytail.

EYES: Watercolor gray, depending on lighting, they can look endless and pitch dark.

SKIN TYPE: Darker shade of caramel with very soft skin and vitiligo from head to toe. She has flecks of moles here and there throughout her body. She enjoys bathing in oils so she has a healthy glow to her skin.

HEIGHT: Five feet Two inches

BUILD: She has a small amount of tone to her body, a bit thin with wider hips and a full top, an hourglass figure to be precise.

DISTINGUISHING MARKS: Head to toe, she has Vitiligo. She has two beauty marks on her face and then one on the edge of her lower lip on the left side.

COMMON ACCESSORIES: Flowers, she enjoys having flowers in her hair and always seems to have fresh ones. She usually has her nails painted with rings adorning her hands. She always has one special ring she does no take off for any reason other than in her home, she was told it was her mother’s. Anklets, the prettier the chiming bells, the more skip to her step. Occasionally, she’ll wear a necklace, but not too often. She carries a satchel with medical supplies, herbs, potions, inkwells, gauze, quills and her journals. She also carries a one-handed wand on her person at all times in case of emergencies.

personal –––-

PROFESSION: Wandering healer/conjurer currently. It has been about a year and a half since she retired from the Adders as a combat medic. If she isn’t wandering, she always takes the time to visit home…Gridania. The Central Shroud is one of her favorite places to be, she’ll often mediate there, gather herbs and supplies, or enjoy being around the greenery.

HOBBIES: Reading, her head is always in a book. Her home is filled with books, stacks here and there in messy piles. She enjoys taking care of plants, much of her home is filled with them so often she will be watering them and possibly getting more (even though she knows she shouldn’t). Aoi enjoys dancing, she can get lost in it, but it is something she does when she is alone. Aoi plays the harp as well, she learned at a young age and finds it soothing when she feels stressed or anxious.

LANGUAGES: Common and Sign Language

RESIDENCE: Her home is a small apartment that she occasionally visits in between her wandering, she is not one for having large homes, she enjoys having a smaller space. It is filled with plants and books, in a corner, she keeps her large harp so that she can entertain guests. (But really...oocly I was given one by a friend in Shirogane but icly, I like it in the Lavender beds as she very much loves Gridania).

FEARS: Drowning. She never learned how to swim because she was so caught up in her studies while growing up, and whenever she was prompted to, she brushed it aside. She has other tiny little fears such as neglecting her duty of traveling around and healing and caring for others. She is not a big fan of insects such as spiders, anything creepy crawly makes her uncomfortable. Heights make her extremely uncomfortable as she can be clumsy, that and she feels dizzy being in high up places. She doesn’t like the feeling.

relationships –––-

SPOUSE: N/A

CHILDREN: N/A

LOVE INTEREST(S): It is...complicated.

PARENTS: Both mother and father are deceased. She was raised by her aunt from a very young age of about a year old.

SIBLINGS: She has no brothers or sisters, she grew up as an only child.

OTHER RELATIVES: The only living relative that she is aware of, is her aunt.

PETS: She has none currently, but she won’t easily admit that she kind of thinks her plants as pets.

traits –––-

extroverted / introverted / in between

disorganized / organized / in between

close minded / open-minded / in between

calm / anxious / in between (depends on situation)

disagreeable / agreeable / in between

cautious / reckless / in between (depends on situation)

patient / impatient / in between

outspoken / reserved / in between

leader / follower / in between

empathetic / unemphatic / in between

optimistic / pessimistic / in between

traditional / modern / in between

hard-working / lazy / in between

cultured / un-cultured / in between

loyal / disloyal / in between

faithful / unfaithful / in between

additional information –––-

SMOKING HABIT: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess.

DRUGS: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess.

ALCOHOL: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess

possible hooks –––-

- If your character is an Adder or was associated with them, she was a combat medic for them before she retired! She will most likely approach you if mentioned, badger you if you are taking care of yourself and properly getting rest in between missions or shifts.

- If your character is mute or selectively mute and knows sign language (or just knows sign language in general), she will automatically approach with clear excitement in her eyes and a big smile! Her main form of communication is through writing, she does not meet many who know sign language so when she does actually meet those that do, it is a shock to her, a happy one!

- She is a wandering medic, so she is always aiding those that are in need of assistance, be it healing, child birth, or a serious injury, she will approach, very worried but ready to get to work immediately.

- These are just some thoughts I’m throwing out there, situations that I think my character would respond to, to give an idea (it’s super early and I haven’t slept..so they are not the brightest ideas). I am open-minded, if you are interested, don’t even hesitate to throw some of your ideas out there too, I would love to hear what you have to say as well! Working together to come up with an awesome hook or plot is the best part! ^^

what I’m looking for ––––

- Honestly, any kind of contacts! Be it friendships, job offers, rivalries, etc! I mentioned above that I was also looking for an RP FC so, if any of you are in need of a healer (additionally an alchemist, gotta level that up for RP purposes, same for botany), shoot me a message and give me some information about your FC and what you’re all about!

- I mentioned that I’m an open-minded person, so if you got ideas, shoot them my way, I love seeing what people can cook up, and it helps give me an idea of what I can too depending on the person(s) that approach me (character-wise, like personalities, backstories, what sort of plot you’re informing me about and how Aoi would fit into it).

✓ Will do temporary incapacitation, temporary imprisonment, walk-ups

✓ I don’t mind doing RP that is a bit dark, I like being pushed in different directions and it’s fun to explore. Things revolving voidsent (very little knowledge of it though, if you have the patience to give me some lore tips and pointers, I don’t mind one bit), drugs/violence/alcohol/language, I don’t mind at all, as long as it comes naturally with roleplay.

- As for longterm RP, I am not too sure about it, one way to find out is talking to me about it and giving me an idea of what you had in mind (especially if they involve long-term incapacitation, long-term imprisonment, or long-term disfiguration).

- I don’t mind lore bending at all, not one bit, as long as it isn’t anything too crazy or displaced. It is fun to be creative! So as long as it works and flows nicely with everything.

✗ I will not do ERP or anything involving rape. I don’t at all mind having my characters naturally building a romantic relationship (comes along with roleplay, fan of slowburn sort of stuff), but ERP is not my cup of tea so I’m putting this out there now, don’t ask me later, my mind won’t suddenly change.

oocly, I am –––

I am a fairly chill roleplayer, I enjoy in-game roleplay but I don’t mind at all if you would like to use Discord as well. It’s very convenient! I enjoy all sorts of RP as I mentioned above, if you would like fast-paced, I will do my best to keep up and adapt, I am more of a paragraph roleplayer and enjoy putting in a lot of details into my posts, but like I said, I can adapt, I’ve been roleplaying for about 11 years, I’ve been all over the place.

Don’t worry about responding to me asap or roleplaying with me constantly, like I said, I’m a laid-back person, plan with me, gush about characters and stuff, take your time. There is no rush, after all, we’re all here to relax and have fun! So if anything is troubling you, don’t hesitate to approach me about it!

I am on CST, and am usually on most of the time, my sleep schedule is all over the place so I’ll be on during the day, afternoon, night…like I said…jumpy sleep schedule. >w<

you can contact me via ––

Tumblr Messages!

Discord: Aoi Shibunuri#4857

In Game: Aoi Shibunuri

PS: Totally didn’t nab this from my friend, @ijazrahalffxiv, *sweats*, I don’t really know where he got this template from so the mysterious template shall continue it’s journey onwards!! Thank you for your time :D

#repost #ffxiv hyur #ffxiv #ff14 #balmung #balmung server #balmung rp #lfrp #lffc #race change #hyur #female hyur #hyur midlander #ffxiv rp

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vajranam · 3 years

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Vajrasattva

Vajrasattva: How to Purify Negative Karma Negative actions will be purified if they are admitted. An admission must incorporate the Four Powers. From The Four Powers Sutra Admission must incorporate the four powers (stobs bzhi): 1. The power of regret, which is to have remorse for all previously committed negative actions 2. The power of applying remedies 3. The power of turning away from evil 4. The power of reliance 1. The power of regret is to feel remorse for what you have concluded is (a) meaningless, (b) fear-inspiring), and (c) necessary to be quickly separated from. Think that all the negative actions you have done—to defeat your enemies, to protect your friends, for the sake of wealth, and so forth—were committed only for the aims of this lifetime. When you die these things will not accompany you, but your karma will follow you like a shadow. You have under-gone great difficulties to accomplish those things and yet there has been no result for you but fatigue. The Questions of the Householder Shrīdatta Sutra says: Parents, siblings, children, and spouses, Servants, wealth, and relatives Will not go with you after death, but your karma will follow you like a shadow that doesn’t depart. THE VAJRASATTVA MEDITATION INSTRUCTIONS From among the four powers, the supreme is to rely on the meditation and recitation of Vajrasattva. This being the case, conceive of yourself in the ordinary way and visualize on your head a PAM (syllable] that changes into a white lotus. Above that an A changes into a moon disk. Above that a HỮM changes into a white five-pronged vajra whose middle is marked by a HŪM. Light radiating from that makes offerings to the noble ones and benefits beings. The light returns, transforming (the vajra) into the form of the bhagavat Vajrasattva, in essence your root guru. He is white, with one face and two arms. With his right hand he holds a five-pronged vajra to his heart in the gesture of praise, and with his left hand he gracefully rests the handle of a bell on his hip. He is seated in the bodhisattva position. His upper and lower garments are of various types of divine silk. His hair is bound up in a topknot, the top of which is adorned with the guru Akshobhya. He is adorned with ornaments made of precious substances: a crown, earrings, short necklace, upper arm bracelets, wrist brace- lets, anklets, belt, long necklace, and others. He is beautified by the major and minor marks and radiates boundless light. His (form) appears yet lacks any inherent nature, manifesting like an image reflected in a mirror. Visualize in his heart center a moon disk, on top of which is a white HŮM. This is surrounded by “OM VAJRASATTVA HŐM,” fol lowed by "OM VAJRASATTVA SAMAYAM...SATTVA ĀH." (Both mantras garlands) are white, like strings of pearls, and circle clockwise. Light radiating from these invokes the gurus of the ten directions and three times, yidams, buddhas, bodhisattvas, dakas, dākinis, dharma protectors, and guardians, who then dissolve into Vajrasattva on top of your head. Regarding him as the embodiment of the sources of refuge, recite: Guru Vajrasattva, please cleanse and purify the negative actions, obscurations, faults, and downfalls of my self and all sentient beings, whose numbers are as vast as the extent of space. Having thus supplicated, a white stream of wisdom nectar drips from the seed-syllable, mantra garlands, and moon in Vajrasattva's heart center. The white (nectar) completely fills his entire body. The excess flows slowly from his right toe, like water being poured from a jug, and enters your opening of Brahmā. All the negative actions, obscurations, sickness, demons, broken and impaired samayas, unfavorable conditions, and impurities that you have accumulated in your succession of lives throughout beginningless time in samsāra are swept along in the form of pus and blood, soot, or black sludge, just like chaff being carried off by a billow of water. Leaving your body through its two lower doors, sense orifices, pores, and finger tips, this black (mass) winds downwards and dissolves into the powerful golden ground. Think that your body becomes purified, resplendently white, and completely filled with wisdom nectar. The excess rises up and touches Vajrasattva's foot. Thinking in this way, recite the hundred-syllable and six-syllable mantras as much as you can. At the end, join the palms of your hands at your heart and say: Protector, through ignorance and delusion, I have transgressed and broken my samaya. Vajrasattva, please grant me refuge. Vajra-holder, The embodiment of compassion, I take refuge in you, leader of beings. I admit and confess all broken and impaired root and branch samayas of body, speech, and mind. Please Grant your blessings so that my negative actions, observations, faults, and downfalls may be cleansed and purified. Following this supplication, think that the guru Vajrasattva on top of your head is pleased, smiles upon you, and says, "Child of good family, your negative actions, obscurations, faults, and downfalls are cleansed and purified," thereby giving his assurance. With that, he melts into light and dissolves into you. Think that Vajrasattva's body, speech, and mind and your body, speech, and mind become inseparable, like water poured into water. Rest in that state without any reference point (mi dmigs pa). When a thought arises, seal (the practice) with dedications and aspiration prayers, dedicating the roots of virtue to awakening, and enter into the activities (of postmeditation). THE SIGNS By meditating in this way, signs of the purification of negative actions and obscurations may arise. Your body might feel light and you may need less sleep. You may feel happy and joyful. You might also have dreams of bathing; being naked; expelling, eliminating, or vomiting pus and blood from your body; wearing white clothing, and so forth. Furthermore, dream of vomiting bad food; drinking yogurt or milk; seeing the sun and moon; moving through the sky; seeing blazing fires, water buffaloes, dark and powerful people, or the sangha of bhikshus and bhikshuņis; (seeing] trees that give milk, elephants, or bulls; ascending a mountain, a lion throne, or (the roof of a palace; listening to the dharma, and so forth are all signs of having purified your negative actions and obscurations. It will not do to stop (practicing] when such signs arise. You must continue to exert yourself in meditation. Excerpts from: HH IX Karmapa, Wangchuk Dorje’s, “Ocean of Definitive Meaning” (Ngedon Gyamtso) THE CHAPTER ON DIRECT PERCEPTION OF VAJRASATTVA FROM THE GUHYAGARBHA TANTRA Samantabhadra and sentient beings are gathered indivisibly in immaculate existential space, and in order to demonstrate experientially the direct perception of Vajrasattva’s face, deliberately, Samantabhadra speaks: In direct perception of this mundane world, where things are never what they seem, where all is delusory enchantment, like hallucination, seeing all and everything as a continuity like the reflection of the moon in water, that is the buddha’s pristine awareness, and a flash of undivided recognition of that gives us a unitary experience of total presence. A finger snap of ungrounded limitless space, in timeless existential space, the here and now, that is Vajrasattva wielding an utterly inviolable vajra. When vision and conduct are in sync with direct perception, we see his face in the intrinsic purity of the mandala. That boundless existential space is oneself in a union of utter purity, and all is spontaneously awakened. Whoever experiences this realization he is seeing with the eye of pure awareness and he sees the immaculate matrix of being, and he is utterly inviolable, adamantine, imperturbable. Intrinsic existential space radiates clear light which is the immaculate voice of pristine being (sattva). In that recognition is direct perception of his face. With this spontaneity of perfect equipoise, the mind is filled with the magnificent self-sprung mandala of the Five Tathagathas, the five aspects of awareness, and in this unitary mind free of subject and object contemplating the buddhas’ radiance as nothing at all, without seeing or hearing or any sensation, here is the clear light of pure awareness of intrinsic presence and everything is realized as intrinsically empty and in reality there is no substance whatsoever. Just as the victorious Buddha sat as a focus in the middle of the hosts of Mara all gathered around the bodhi tree, miserable in their state of malignancy trying to cut the tree but quite unable, so is Vajrasattva: when oneself is at one with samadhi that is direct perception of the vajra-face. The mind filled with Vajrasattva, samadhi saturated with radiance, everything becomes his vajra-nature, and since he is everything, nothing can harm him; with oneself and sattva inseparable action accords with whatever appears, and the vision and activity of oneself and sattva are one and that is direct perception of the vajra-face. Now, the immaculate mandala of reflected images: conjoined by means of the coarse and tangible (thabs) apprehending sensory distinctions, perfect insight (prajna) is realized and the non-dual connection of means and insight is sublime skilful means. All and everything as the space of that manifold insight, all appearances and existence, everything whatsoever, unmoving from the intrinsical here and now, are neither existent nor non-existent and their being and non-being are indivisible: all is gathered into the space of existential sameness and such a communion never coming into being, everything, in that way, inseparable from sameness, is inviolable. That is the abode of sattva and the supreme order who realize that, their status in accord with sattva, they see directly the vajra-face. All transforming illusion, the psycho-organism and the elements of perception, is one in the suchness of the ground of being, and illusory appearances, all reflected images, lack any substance in their very nature; yet that very absence of substance displays multiplicity: the five aspects of the psycho-organism are the Five Tathagathas, sense organs and conciousnesses are the bodhisattvas, the objects and times are the goddesses the four concepts of the self are the four wrathful male guardians, the four extreme views of eternalism and nihilism are the four wrathful female guardians. That awakened mind – known as intrinsic presence – all as existential space, Samantabhadra, that is Vajrasattva. Whoever recognizes that, his buddha-mind in harmony with sattva, He sees the vajra-face. All things, all experience without exception, can be expressed by representational name, word, letters and sound, but like all those letters, names and sounds nothing whatsoever has any substance. That very absence of substance appears as multiplicity, the nature of appearances is nothing at all; although there is a constant stream of creativity it is no-thing and that is immaculate. The utterly inviolable here and now is not insensate matter; it is radiantly clear light, and Vajrasattva abides there. Whoever recognizes that is a member of the supreme order, and indivisible from the vajra-order he has direct perception of the vajra-face. The eminent man or woman with high creativity can realize the meaning of such universal identity; but the result is intangible, for the place in which enlightened mind exists is like a womb or an egg. Although unreal, obscurations do arise, and just as in the process of their creation they dissolve so the forms of thought are abandoned instantaneously. In that way he is empowered by all things and he becomes a being of the sublime order. Identical to Vajrasattva, the supreme siddhis are perfected in him; he attains the blissful pure land, supreme wisdom becomes his display, and he is an exemplar to gods and men; he is empowered in body speech and mind and whatever he imagines is actualized. He is mastered by the four boundless states, his activity everywhere is supreme awareness of bliss, and he has reached the place where suffering has ceased – the suffering of birth, old age, sickness and death. Reaching the supreme vajra-status, through the blessings of great compassion he leads all beings without exception into that vajra-order. Annihilating the hosts of Mara, taming the passions impeccably he turns the wheel of dharma; to all beings without exception he teaches the nature of impermanence in a way compatible with their every path – to the shravakas the way of the arhat, to the bodhisattvas the way of the self-born, to the spontaneously originated buddhas of the unsurpassable approach, inviolable existential space. Without moving from intrinsic existential space he reveals to everyone immutability, and all paths without exception are accomplished in that space. Thus he spoke the vajra-secret word! The word spoken by himself to himself! VAJRASATTVA’S ABODE The Basic Scene I bow to glorious Vajrasattva, Secret Wisdom! These things were once spoken: The Tathagata is a fully perfected Buddha who dwells eternally in a magnificent pleasure that is like the sky. His body, speech, and mind are like vajras. He is a spontaneously formed potentate, indivisible from the totality of Vajrasattvas. He beams out like a thousand suns in a most extraordinary way. He is the unique essence of all things. His magnificence cannot be separated from any of them. This glorious Vajrasattva, the unity of all the Buddhas of the three times, lives in the abode of Akaniṣṭa, a dominion of the Dharma that is not to be exaggerated or demeaned, in a crystal palace made of the blazing wisdom of awareness. It has no boundaries or center, and is equal to the dominion of the sky. The most secret of secret wisdoms has the measure of a magnificent all encompassing pervasion that has no extent or limits. It is profound and subtle. Its nature is difficult to understand. Nothing touches it, and it is neither depleted nor augmented. It is ornamented with a countless vast diffusion of jewels, equal to the end of the sky. The Great Perfection, the Blessed One, dwells in it. The above section “Vajrasattva’s Abode” is an excerpt from Chris Wilkson’s, The Great Tantra of Vajrasattva: Equal to the End of the Sky THE VAJRA – FROM LONGCHENPA’S PRECIOUS TREASURY OF THE WAY OF ABIDING How Marvellous! The Vajra of self-knowing awareness is timeless awareness blazing everywhere. The naturally manifest Vajra without characteristics blazes in all directions. The radiantly fearless Vajra is supreme emptiness. The immaculate Vajra of what is subtle and coarse blazes intensely. The great Vajra crown is all-pervasive emptiness. The limitless Vajra is not conferred, but naturally perfect. The limitless Vajra is samaya that is beyond being upheld. (from Longchenpa’s “The Precious Treasury of The Way of Abiding” Padma Pub, Richard Barron translation.) The Song of the Vajra Unborn Yet continuing without interruption, Neither coming nor going, omnipresent, Supreme Dharma, Immutable space, beyond definition, Spontaneously, self-liberating. Perfect state without any obstruction, Existent from the very beginning, Self created, without location, With nothing negative to reject, And nothing positive to accept, Infinite expanse, all pervading, Immense, and limitless, unbound, With nothing even to dissolve Or from which to be liberated. Present beyond Space and Time, Existent from the beginning, Immense dimension of inner space, The radiance of clarity is like the sun and the moon, Self perfected, As indestructible as the Vajra, As stable as a mountain, As pure as a lotus, Strong as a lion, Incomparable bliss Beyond all limits; Illumination, Equanimity, Peak of the Dharma, Light of the Universe, Perfect since the very beginning. From “The Song of the Vajra”, An Oral Commentary by Namkhai Norbu Rinpoche, Edited by Gina Perini HUNDRED SYLLABLE VAJRASATTVA MANTRA Common Tibetan Pronunciation Phonetically OM BENZA SATA SAMAYA MANU PALAYA BENZA SATA TEY NO PA TEETA DREEDO MEY BAWA SUTO KAYO MEY BAWA SUPO KAYO MEY BAWA A NU RATO MEY BAWA SARWA SIDDI MEY PRA YA TSA SARWA KARMA SU TSA MEY TSEE TAM SHRI YAM KURU HUNG HA HA HA HA HO BAGAVAN SARWA TATAGATA BENZA MA MEY MUN TSA BENZA BAWA MAHA SAMAYA SATU AH The Hundred Syllable Vajrasattva Mantra in Sanskrit OM VAJRASATTVA SAMAYA MANUPALAYA VAJRASATTVA TVENOPATISHTA DRIDHO ME BHAVA SUTOSHYO ME BHAVA SUPOSHYO ME BHAVA ANURAKTO ME BHAVA SARVA SIDDHIM ME PRAYACCHA SARVA KARMA SU CHAME CHITTAM SREYAH KURU HUM HA HA HA HA HO BHAGAVAN SARVA TATHAGATA VAJRA MA ME MUNCA VAJRI BHAVA MAHA SAMAYA SATTVA AH Lama Zopa Rinpoche on The Meaning of the Mantra Note: This is not a literal translation of the individual Sanskrit words of the mantra. You, Vajrasattva, have generated the holy mind according to your samaya. Your holy mind is enriched with the simultaneously-born holy actions of liberating transmigratory beings from samsara. Whatever happiness and suffering, good and bad, happens to me, by my pleasing the holy mind, never give me up and guide me. Please stabilize the realizations of the paths and bhumis, including the happiness of the upper realms, actualize all actions and the common and sublime realizations, and make the glory of the five wisdoms abide in my heart. More Detailed Vajrasattva Mantra Translation Word by Word OM VAJRASATTVA (TIBETAN: BENZA SATA) Vajra (vajra: indestructible/adamantine/diamond like thunderbolt-irresistible force/illuminating/shatters the darkness) Sattva (essence/first/ Sat-truth/true-real/being/non-changing/state of being tattva-principle/axiom) SAMAYAMANUPALAYA (TIBETAN: SAMAYA MANU PALAYA) Sama (equal/same/match) Samaya (agreement/covenant/meeting or meeting place/coming together) Manu (wise/archetypal being) Manas (mind) Anupalaya (to be guarded or kept/maintained/preserved) Alaya (place/abode/In the Lamdré teachings it refers to the indivisible union of awareness and emptiness) VAJRASATTVATVENOPA TISHTHA Vajrasattvatvena (vajrasattvaness/as vajrasattva/the qualtity of being a vajra-being) Upa (towards, near to, by the side of, with, stood near, be present, approach, support, revealed one’s self or appeared) Istha (reverenced/loved/respected/regarded as good/beloved/sought/pleasant/worshipped/desired/cherished) DRDHO ME BHAVA Bhava (to be/for me) Drdho (steadfast/firm/steady) Is steadfast for me SUTOSYO ME BHAVA Sutoṣyaḥ (is a compound of the prefix su – meaning “well, good, complete‟ and toṣya from √tuṣ meaning “satisfaction, contentment, pleasure, joy‟) Is well good and complete contentment pleasure and joy for me SUPOSYO ME BHAVA Supoṣyaḥ (is again su – but combined with poṣya from √puṣ meaning “to thrive, to prosper, nourish, foster‟) Is nourishing me ANURAKTO ME BHAVA Rakta (fond of/attached or devoted to/enamoured/beloved/coloured/dear to me/blood – close to Raga which means the act of colouring, to dye, affection) Is dear to me like my very blood SARVASIDDHIM ME PRAVACCHA SARVA (each/universal/every/all) Siddhi (perfection/readiness/hitting of a mark/fulfillment/attainment) Prayaccha (give/grants/bestows) Iccha (wish/desire/want) It bestows upon me and is the greatest of all attainments, universal perfection, complete fulfillment SARVA KARMASU CA ME CITTAM SREYAH KURU SARVA (each/universal/every/all) Karma (volitional action/active) Ca (and) Me (my) Cittam (mind/thought) Sreyah (Śreyah is from śrī which has a huge range of connotations: ‘light, lustre, radiance; prosperity, welfare, good fortune, success, auspiciousness; high rank, royalty’) Kuru (to make, to do) and every and all of my actions the very essence of my mind is radiant and generates good fortune HUM (from OM AH HUM – OM purifies body, AH purifies speech and HUM purifies mind) HA HA HO (laughter of realization) BHAGAVAN SARVA TATHAGATA VAJRA MA ME MUNCA Bhagavan (Blessed one) Sarva (essence) Tathagata (Buddha) Vajra Ma (mother) Munca (freedom/release) Hail, the blessed one, the very essence of all the Buddha’s, the indestructible mother of my freedom VAJRIBHAVA MAHASAMAYASATTVA Vajri (active expression/embodiment/becoming of the indestructible/adamantine/diamond like thunderbolt-irresistible force/illuminating/shatters the darkness) Bhava (state/feeling/spirit) Maha (great) Samaya (agreement/covenant/meeting or meeting place/coming together) Sattva (essence/first/ Sat-truth/true-real/being/non-changing/state of being tattva-principle/axiom) (Embodiment of the mantra) The very essence and experience of the adamantine indestructible state is now being experienced AH (from OM AH HUM – OM purifies body, AH purifies speech and HUM purifies mind) Vajrasattva’s name translates to Diamond Being or Thunderbolt Being. Tibetan Book of the Dead – Meeting Vajrasattva From the field of reality’s expanse, uncreated and pure, Within a celestial palace,which is a seminal point [of light], pure, unceasing, and radiant, Through the natural expressive power of one’s own mind, uncontrived and empty, Intrinsic awareness, radiant and empty, arises in the form of Vajrasattva, [seated] upon a bejewelled throne adorned with lotus, sun and moon [cushions]. [Vajrasattu is] white, radiant, with one face, two arms, and a smiling countenance; The right hand holds a vajra at the heart, [Symbolising the union] of awareness and emptiness, The left hand supports a bell [resting] on the hip, [Symbolising the union] of appearances and emptiness; And the head [is adorned with a garland of] perfect buddhas, [Representing] the five enlightened families of Those Gone to Bliss. Thus, [Vajrasattva] manifests in the form of the Buddha-body of Perfect Resource, [Exquisitely] adorned with silks and jewels, Seated in the posture of royal ease, With the right leg extended, and the left drawn in. [Radiating] at the heart is the seed-syllable HUM, Surrounded by the Hundred-syllable Mantra: Then [maintaining the recognition of] oneself as vajrasattva, In the celestial palace of one’s own precious heart, One clearly discerns a seminal point [formed of] the five lights, Whose nature is the five pure essences [of the five elements], [And from this], the thirty-six peaceful buddhas radiantly manifest, Amidst a radiant and vibrant mandala suffused by the five pristine cognitions, Their bodies composed of five lights, the unimpeded [union of] emptiness and radiance, [Seated] upon a tier of lotus, sun and moon [cushions], Supported by lion, elephant, horse, peacock and civarycivaka [thrones]. Vajra Samaya 💎 This is Tibetan monks chanting the Vajrasattva Mantra: https://youtu.be/sjKbwelO3Lg This is a sweet western chanting of the 100 Syllable Mantra: https://youtu.be/-pieYR3AfR0

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swordandflame · 6 years

Text

Rider Challenge #3

I tacked Bloodletter carefully.

I always consider this the most dangerous part of my day, because it involves being near a restless and eager capall with my hands full.

His breakfast is his biggest meal of the day.

All of Bloodletter’s tack is black. For one, it looks good against his buckskin hide and provided looking good won’t kill me, I’m a fan of it. Two, black is for safety. Defense. Banishing negativety. Death is pretty negative, as is maiming.

It also doesn’t show blood stains, should worse come to worse. Do you know how often I’ve gotten hit with blood spray?

Yeah.

Anyway. A black saddle, small and light, with stirrups I can easily kick out of. It’s work with silver, in a pattern of delicate chains (I bind you) twisting along the edges.

His bridle echoes that pattern, this time twined with feathers. It’s bitless. I never want to get my fingers near enough to his mouth to properly seat a bit, thank you.

On this, his training tack, bells are on both side of the bridle. When we race, they will only face the sea. Don’t hear the song, ssh listen to me, listen, just listen.

I weave strands of stone beads into his mane. Stones of the earth, gathered far from the sea (or as far as Thisby gets, which isn’t very.) Stay here, stay on the beach, remain on the sand.

Simple black ribbon laced with silver for the tail, because no one likes being whipped by beads. Anklets of woven sea grass with, you guessed it, more stone beads and silver bells. Seriously, stay on the fucking beach.

Despite all of my preperation, I keep to the cliffs the first few days. The beach is madness and death at first. Better to let the sea do some culling, lest I get caught up in anything by accident.

There’s always fewer people later on, for one reason or another.

We mind our own business and run as dawn breaks over the sea. Bloodletter snorts and bucks and twists, until I tap his shoulder with my braided seagrass whip.

I remind him, I’m in charge.

I do not die.

He flows like liquid gold across the earth.

@thescorpioracesfestival

#thescorpioracesfestival #Willow and Bloodletter #TSRF2017

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rrrawrf-writes · 7 years

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stuff i wrote at work 11.1

titled: How Long Will It Take Until Eli Punches Winn?

continued from pt. 1 | pt. 2

"No one told me we were looking for a person."

Eli glanced over his shoulder at Winn's comment, then frowned. The younger man had his nose buried in MI's copy of the case file, the one Winn wasn't supposed to look at. Eli hadn't enough noticed it leaving his messenger bag.

He reached over and plucked it out of Winn's hands.

"I thought you already knew. You told me you read the files."

"Just the DSA's," Winn said. He had tendency to fidget, Eli noticed, playing with the edge of his hoodie sleeves. "Why are we looking for a person, too?"

Eli sighed. He'd decided to take Winn through the back door, since going out the front would probably just result in Kawai ambushing them both.

"Secondary client," he explained. “We were originally hired to find Dr. Maddock. Our contract intersected with the DSA’s case, so we took that as well.”

Winn arched his eyebrows. “They just handed you a DSA case.”

“Well, no.” Eli turned a corner, coming up to the door to the back parking lot. A security badge scanner was mounted on the wall next to it, and he started patting his pockets for his ID card. “They gave the case to the Liberty Guard. And the Liberty Guard gave you to us.”

He checked his jacket pocket for the third time, wondering if he had left his security badge in the interview room, when Eli heard a beep. He looked up at Winn, who held Eli’s ID badge up to the door scanner.

It flashed a green light at them and unlocked. Eli frowned as Winn handed back his badge, with a bland, “You dropped this.”

Eli seriously doubted that. Sighing inwardly, he tucked the ID card in the inside pocket of his jacket. Winn slipped out ahead of him, glancing around the parking lot. On second thought, Eli checked for his car keys as the door swung shut behind him, then sighed.

“Hey, I need my keys back.”

“Whose motorbikes are those?” Winn asked, looking off to the side of the parking lot. Eli had to think for a moment, because first of all, none of his coworkers owned a motorcycle, and second of all, he couldn’t even see the bikes. They were hidden by a white-painted moving truck.

“Company’s,” he said, catching up to Winn before the ex-convict could skulk his way over to the motorcycles he really shouldn’t have known about. Eli hoped he could ‘find’ more than just bikes. He reached out to grab Winn’s sleeve, but the other man sidled just out of reach. “My keys.”

“Can I drive one?” Winn glanced over his shoulder at Eli, and shifted once more out of range. Eli started to think that this was going to become a thing.

“No,” he said firmly. Eli took a quick step forward, and this time, managed to snag Winn by his sleeve. The ex-convict tensed up instantly, and tried to pull away.

Eli wrapped his hand around the entirety of Winn’s bicep. “Keys.”

Winn glared at him sidelong from underneath his hat. “That little blue car?” he guessed. “I can’t work in a car. Let me ride a bike.”

Eli let out a puff of air. “I can’t let you you, you gotta stay in sight while we’re working. Kaplan said.”

Winn looked up at Eli, rolled his eyes, then pointedly lifted up the hem of his ragged jeans. A smooth black tracking anklet blinked green up at them with every second.

“Jackie gave you lot the code?” he asked in a dull voice. “You can watch every bloody step I take.”

Eli almost felt bad for him. He shrugged. “Sorry, Vinn. That’s what Kaplan told me.”

“It’s Winn. With a ‘w.’ Look,” Winn complained, “I get carsick. And I can’t work in a car, they’re too slow and I don’t have a license, anyway.”

Eli snorted. “What made you think you were driving?”

Winn shrugged, or at least, as best as he could with Eli hanging onto his arm.

“You just find things, right?” Eli decided that since Winn still wasn’t giving up his car keys, he would just take the ex-con over to their assigned vehicle. It was pathetically easy to haul Winn along. “Why can’t you do that in the passenger seat?”

“Let go,” Winn said, trying to dig in his heels. Eli did not heed his complaints until they reached the dark blue four-door.

“Tell you what,” Eli said. “If you can act like an adult today, I’ll let you ride one of the motorcycles tomorrow. Now, where are my keys?”

Winn tipped his head back towards the building. “You dropped them back there while you were manhandling me.”

Eli stared at Winn, then looked back. The sun glinted off a pair of keys at the far end of the parking lot.

Sighing, Eli let go and started the trek back. He was just stooping to pick the keys up when he heard running footsteps.

Eli watched as Winn ran across the asphalt, hopped up onto the hood and then the roof of Javed’s car, and vaulted right over the high chainlink fence that surrounded the parking lot.

He was pretty sure Winn threw in that extra flip just to show off.

Eli caught up to him outside a small cafe. Winn tracked the blue car as it circled the block, looking for a place to park, and then kept mental tabs on Eli himself as he walked back down the sidewalk.

The big man was on the phone as he walked; Winn waved his remaining half of a sandwich once Eli spotted him.

“All right. Thanks, Mickey,” Eli said to thin air, and then pulled a bluetooth device off his ear and frowned at Winn. “Did you steal that?”

‘That’ was the green motorcycle Winn currently straddled, propping his elbows on the handlebars.

“You barely know me, and you’re already accusing me of theft,” Winn said with a pout. Eli scoffed.

“Where’d you get it, then?”

“I rented it.” Winn straightened up, cramming the last few bites of his sandwich into his mouth all at once. Crumbs sprayed from his mouth as he added, “Like a law-abiding citizen.”

“You’re not a citizen, and you obviously have issues with following the law,” Eli pointed out. He eyed Winn critically. “Can you even afford that?”

It was a valid question. The motorcycle was a newer model, pristine, and only made Winn look even shabbier than usual by comparison. It couldn’t hold up to his own bike, of course, but it was green and the fastest model available.

Winn shifted forward to pull a credit card and the accompanying paperwork out of his pocket. He handed it all to Eli. “You dropped that.”

“I don’t think I did.” Eli, for the first time so far, sounded annoyed. He took the credit card first, flipping it over, and pursed his lips. “This is my company card.”

“Yeah. For on-the-job expenses, right?” Winn shrugged. He could have taken Eli’s personal card, but his black eye still hurt from getting punched by two of Mercury Independent’s personnel, and that probably would send him back to prison. Eli seemed better than the others - maybe he’d let this slide.

Even with that assumption about Eli’s character, Winn couldn’t stop himself from planning an escape. He watched as Eli flipped through the crinkled and stapled packet of papers, detailing the rental agreement, Winn could start the bike in a second, but Eli stood directly in front of him, and it was a busy street. As the silence stretched on, Winn shifted his weight, started to ease his weight onto his left leg in case he needed to run after all.

Eli sighed and stuffed the paperwork into his pocket. “You really need the bike?”

“You really need me to work?” Winn retorted. Eli hesitated, then sighed again.

“Fine,” he said. Winn dragged his mind away from marking out the nearest alley that he could escape down. “But if you run off like that again, I’m shipping you back to Boston.”

Winn sat back on his bike, grinned, and kickstarted the engine. “Let’s get to work.”

But before he could go anywhere, Eli leaned his elbow on the handlebars and matched Winn’s grin with one of his own.

“One condition,” he said. “I ride with you.”

Eli regretted his decision.

Winn drove like a maniac. The bike could, legally, carry two people - but there definitely was not room enough for the both of them. Nevertheless, Eli tried to minimize contact between them; he’d noticed Winn’s tendency to maintain person space (except, of course, when he was picking their pockets), and he tensed up whenever someone touched him. Right now, Winn was stiff as a board, and trying to kill them both.

They should have crashed at least eight times, and ran a number of spotlights - but even when Winn squeezed them in the narrowest spaces possible between two cars, not even the sleeve of Eli’s jacket brushed against them.

Winn never even said where they were going, and as they idled at a red light after nearly an hour of aimless meandering, Eli grew increasingly certain that the ex-con was just screwing around. He was about to say so, when Winn stiffened.

He looked to the right-hand turned, as focused as a dog who had spotted his prey. Alarm bells went off in Eli’s mind as he saw Eli ease his thumb over the switch for the right-hand turn signal. “Vinn, we’re in the wrong lane -”

The second the cross-traffic stoplight turned red, Winn punched the accelerator. Eli wrapped his arms around the smaller man as they cut in front of an entire lane of traffic, narrowly missing a head-on collision with a semi-truck still in the act of turning.

“What are you doing!” Eli shouted, though he could barely hear himself over the cacophony of car horns blaring at them. He felt, more than heard, Winn laughing.

“Lean left, you fat bastard,” Winn shouted gleefully over his shoulder. Eli started to think that he deserved another black eye.

Winn committed several more traffic felonies before they finally escaped downtown traffic, zooming down a street leading into a quieter part of the city. At last, they rolled to a stop in an empty parking lot, facing lines of rundown storage units.

“All right,” Winn said, “get off.”

Eli couldn’t move for a few more seconds, because he still wasn’t convinced they hadn’t been run over by a semi-truck after all. He shook a little even when he finally slid off the motorcycle. Winn relaxed, dropping his shoulders with a long exhalation.

He then shook himself like a dog with fleas. “I can’t do that again,” he warned Eli leaning against the handlebars. The motorcycle engine still hummed.

Eli let out a hoarse laugh. “You can’t? I had a panic attack.”

“Why?” Winn scoffed. “We weren’t going very fast, you’re too fat to get up to any real speed.”

He stretched his arms above his head, arching his spine. Eli’s gaze fixed on the back of Winn’s sweater as it rode up with the motion. Eli thought he’d felt something during the insane bike ride, but now he could see the imprint of a gun, where the hoodie pressed against the small of Winn’s back.

“Anyway,” Winn said, “I’ve done my part. Ring me when you’re done, and I’ll come get you.”

“Wait,” Eli said, as Winn revved the bike engine. Eli wedged his foot - now fully titanium - just in front of the rear tire, and grabbed the back of the seat. Winn shot him a dirty look. “Why are we here?”

Winn groaned loudly. “You told me to find the weapon,” he said, “so I found it. Go get it.”

“Where is it?”

Winn threw an exasperated gesture towards the rows of storage units, each with an identical blue roll-up door, and surrounded by a high chain-link fence.

The two men glared at each other. In a flat voice, Eli said, “You want me to go search through a million locked boxes while you go dick around?”

Winn shrugged. “No one said I had to help you get the thing -”

He cut off with a yelp as Eli grabbed the front of Winn’s sweater and dragged him bodily off the bike.

“Where is it,” Eli said. Winn gave him a bad-tempered shrug.

With a slight growl, Eli asked, “You expect me to believe you can track down a little girl from Boston to Charleston, but you can’t tell which storage unit here has a WMD in it?”

Winn wriggled out his grip, lip curled with disgust, and turned towards the bike. Eli reached over and yanked the keys out of the motorcycle’s ignition, pointedly sticking them in his pocket.

“Yeah, I can,” Winn said, “but I’m not about to fight off a couple thugs for it.”

Eli arched his eyebrows. “Thugs?” he repeated. “When were you going to mention that?”

Winn rapped the back of his hand against Eli’s chest, flashing him a crooked smirk. “You’re a big, strong, tough-lookin’’ bloke,” he said, “you would’ve been all right.”

Eli caught Winn’s hand before he could pull it away. He held it to his chest and gave Winn a tender smile. “That’s so nice of you to notice...and super gay.”

The smug look dropped right off Winn’s face; he turned beet red and looked somewhat panicked. “What - I didn’t mean it like that -”

“Too late, no take backs.” Eli cheerfully dragged Winn towards the gate. “Who’s in there?”

Winn tried to escape Eli’s grip, setting his heels against the asphalt, but let out a squeak of pain when Eli squeezed his wrist.

“I don’t - I don’t know,” he said. “Let go of me, you -”

“Tell me what you can.” There was a smaller, foot entrance to the side of the larger vehicle gate into the storage area. Eli absently jingled the chain and padlock keeping it shut, while Winn fruitlessly tried to twist and pull his hand out of Eli’s.

“There’s two - three,” Winn corrected himself sourly. “One just stopped to talk to the other one. What’s wrong with you bloody country? They all have guns.”

Eli gave him a flat look. Winn stared back at him, as if he wasn’t packing a handgun at the small of his back right at that very moment. Eli rolled his eyes.

Winn added, “Two people unloading a car at the far end. They probably aren’t with the others.

“We’ll wait a moment for them to leave,” Eli decided.

“Why?”

“Collateral damage.” Eli looked down at his phone, shooting off a quick text to Mickey and Javed: At hector’s storage on 5th, W says its here. “Don’t want to involve anyone that we don’t have to, especially if those guys really do have guns.”

“I said they do,” Winn grunted. After a second, he added, “If you can stop holding my hand for a minute, I can get us inside.”

“Does it involve double-flipping over the fence?” Eli cast the flimsy chain-link barrier a critical look. “Because I don’t think it would hold my weight.”

“Maybe you should try this little thing called ‘exercising’,” Winn muttered. “I can pick the lock.”

Eli could also pick the lock, but he just nodded and let go. Winn made a show of shaking out his hand, nose crinkled in disgust, before pulling a couple of wires out of his pocket.

He had the padlock open before Eli could even blink. They rewound the chain around the gate after slipping through, and then Winn jerked his head to the side. “This way.”

Eli had them wait a few minutes in the corner made by two perpendicular rows of storage units, until they could hear the rattle of the vehicle gate open, and a car rumble through it. Winn announced, “Those other people are gone.”

They prowled down another row, until they were only one corner away from the two people lounging in front of the storage unit in question. the third, acxording to Winn, was inside the unit itself.

“So, what’s your plan?” Winn asked in a low voice.

“I’d like to apologize in advance,” Eli said.

“What?”

“Distract them for me.” Eli reached up under Winn’s sweater, grabbing his pistol. In the same motion, he pulled the gun out of Winn’s holster, and then shoved the man around corner. Winn stumbled into full view of the storage unit guards.

#stuff i wrote at work #winn #eli #mi #mercury independent #superpowerverse #iwrite #i realize that there is a lot of manhandling in my stories that wouldn't actually go over very well in real life #oh well~~~#i stayed up an hour past bedtime to type this up so y'all better APPRECIATE THIS

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