#jacob stone image

[lindseymcdonaldseyelashes]

The Librarians 2x7 - "And the Image of Image"

[frwalkwithme]

@jedijenkins got me back into the librarians mindset so I wanted to draw these two again

[tinyravenfeathers]

Watching the Librarians Season 2 Episode 7: And the Image of Image and the sheer fucking delight on Jake's face when Jenkins spills the tea on Dorian: "Yes, he was Oscar Wilde's best friend... ah, actually, more than friends."

makes my heart joyful every time.

[evilhorse]

WildC.A.T.s #11

[samnotsammy12]

Lmao Cassandra rolls her ankle and takes Jake down with her

and that’s why I never wear heels

[whateyescantsee]

When the Past Clings to the Present

Part Two

Summary: The past visited Remmick in his sleep.

Notes/Warnings: Some fluff with Remmick from his past. No warnings. Trying to flesh his character out some more. This is definitely before the movie.

I did include some Gaelic. Love of my heart: A ghrá mo chroí

Thank you so much for reading my tale for Remmick. He has certainly taken a hold. ❤️s, feedback, comments & reblogs are appreciated.

Puffy, white clouds glided across the clear blue sky and the sun was warm. He had snuck away from tending to the horses to just lay on the gentle hill by the ponds. Distantly, a toad let out a guttural ribbit. The grass was soft and thick under him. Tonight, he had planned to visit Avalina and her family. Perhaps, he’d bring her mother a pot of his own mother’s fresh honey. Yes, yes he would do that. He smiled imagining her response to the small gift.

“And what are you doing here Remmick?”

The voice was filled with mirth and laughter and as light as a bird’s song.

He shielded his eyes from the sun, and gazed up to brilliance of you standing over him.

He raised himself up onto his elbows.

“A ghrá mo chroí,” His heart beat steadily, as a dusting a pink filled your cheeks.

“I could say something the same, don’t ye cows need some attending.”

He gave you playful smile despite the soft admonishment.

You nodded, tucking a stray fiery strand behind your ear you sat down beside him, tucking your dress under you.

“The cows will get along chomping away at the grass in the meadow.”

“Sure they will love the horses, will enjoy trotting around.”

You leaned against him. It made him sigh.

“I missed, you Remmick. Two days without sight of you made my heart wilt and have no song.”

He knew you would. He had missed you, as well.

“My family needed me to tend to things. But I was going to pay a visit tonight. I will have a gift for your mother.”

He glanced at you.

“You will? Oh, I feel grand again.” Your face brightened and your eyes twinkled like precious stones.

“Good my love.”

Feeling strong, turning towards you he cupped one of your cheeks. His thumb gently caressed it. He eyed the dusting of kisses from the sun that sprinkled your cheeks. Drawing closer, he longed to finally kiss you.

You trembled, he gently pulled back worried he had offended you and been too bold.

“I’m sorry.” His voice hoarse, he swallowed hard.

“Oh please, don’t stop.” You said in a very soft voice, that a breeze could have stolen.

“I did not offend you?” He swallowed.

“No, I long to feel a kiss from you.”

He chuckled, it was deep from his belly. “Darling, I want to. I want to kiss you where the sun already left its kisses on your cheeks, on your lips that remind me of the most beautiful flower.”

His heart lurched painfully, as he caught sight of a cloud of men.

“Remmick, why…”

Your voice trailed off as a stillness came over him, a chill chased itself down his back.

“What is it?” Then you twisted beside him what had caught his eye.

“Who are they?”

“I don’t know.”

Off, far off was a bunch of riders on horses the dark fabric of their clothes swirled around them like smoke would around a fire.

*******

He startled awake, he bit back on the moan of pain that wanted to bubble forth at the time shared with Avalina. He rolled over. He looked at the crude wooden slates of the shed. No sunlight tried to slide its light between the boards. He easily sprung up from where he laid.

Looking in a corner, Jacob was hunched over, still soundly aleep. He was a young fella they had heard singing at a fair, in the industrious state of New York. His yearning for adventure is what made him follow him and the gentle of his young wife’s hips between the large beige tents. He knew how unusual and alluring the image he carried with him wherever he went.

He had tasted alright. A little too young for his liking. His blood had no maturity to it. Or perhaps, it was the disease that would have snatched him away in perhaps a year or two if they had not crossed paths with him. Now he was clear of it and could continue to sing with the mood high in the inky sky.

Those maladies didn’t bother him, just made the blood not as satisfying. So he allowed, his young wife eat her fill.

He glanced down at her now. Hair, like the earth under them framed her face. Sleep still held onto her.

Despite the gift he gave her, she had kept her good heart. Her nimble fingers that danced along a piano was what had drawn his interest to her, that wintery day when an innkeeper let him in. It was a welcome reprieve to the howling of the winds. He had desperately wanted to feed on at least the innkeeper but waited to see if there were other more tasty morsels also seeking shelter.

There had been and the way you, you easily wilted like a daisy in his arms, he knew he had to take ye with him.

Stretching, he ran his fingers through his dark strands. He longer for a bath. Now that he had grown accustomed to them, he enjoyed them. Going over to door, he felt the wood. The warmth of the sun was not there. He carefully pulled open the door.

The sun was barely there. The light blue of evening was blanketing the sky. He opened the door further and stepped out. He pulled his suspenders onto his shoulders. Sniffing the air, his smile crooked with his memories spread across his face. There was a gathering not far from here, they could all surely feed.

[eesirachs]

For a school assignment, I'm assembling an anthology around the theme of queer divinity and desire, but I'm having a hard time finding a fitting essay/article (no access to real academic catalogues :/ ), do you know of any essays around this theme?

below are essays, and then books, on queer theory (in which 'queer' has a different connotation than in regular speech) in the hebrew bible/ancient near east. if there is a particular prophet you want more of, or a particular topic (ištar, or penetration, or appetites), or if you want a pdf of anything, please let me know.

essays: Boer, Roland. “Too Many Dicks at the Writing Desk, or How to Organize a Prophetic Sausage-Fest.” TS 16, no. 1 (2010b): 95–108. Boer, Roland. “Yahweh as Top: A Lost Targum.” In Queer Commentary and the Hebrew Bible, edited by Ken Stone, 75–105. JSOTSup 334. Cleveland, OH: Pilgrim, 2001. Boyarin, Daniel. “Are There Any Jews in ‘The History of Sexuality’?” Journal of the History of Sexuality 5, no. 3 (1995): 333–55. Clines, David J. A. “He-Prophets: Masculinity as a Problem for the Hebrew Prophets and Their Interpreters.” In Sense and Sensitivity: Essays on Reading the Bible in Memory of Robert Carroll, edited by Robert P. Carroll, Alastair G. Hunter, and Philip R. Davies, 311–27. JSOTSup 348. Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 2002. Graybill, Rhiannon. “Yahweh as Maternal Vampire in Second Isaiah: Reading from Violence to Fluid Possibility with Luce Irigaray.” Journal of feminist studies in religion 33, no. 1 (2017): 9–25. Haddox, Susan E. “Engaging Images in the Prophets: Feminist Scholarship on the Book of the Twelve.” In Feminist Interpretation of the Hebrew Bible in Retrospect. 1. Biblical Books, edited by Susanne Scholz, 170–91. RRBS 5. Sheffield: Sheffield Phoenix Press, 2013. Koch, Timothy R. “Cruising as Methodology: Homoeroticism and the Scriptures.” In Queer Commentary and the Hebrew Bible, edited by Ken Stone, 169���80. JSOTSup 334. Cleveland, OH: Pilgrim, 2001. Tigay, Jeffrey. “‘ Heavy of Mouth’ and ‘Heavy of Tongue’: On Moses’ Speech Difficulty.” BASOR, no. 231 (October 1978): 57–67.

books: Ahmed, Sara. Queer Phenomenology: Orientations, Objects, Others. Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 2006. Bauer-Levesque, Angela. Gender in the Book of Jeremiah: A Feminist-Literary Reading. SiBL 5. New York: P. Lang, 1999. Black, Fiona C., and Jennifer L. Koosed, eds. Reading with Feeling : Affect Theory and the Bible. Atlanta, GA: SBL Press, 2019. Brenner, Athalya. The Intercourse of Knowledge: On Gendering Desire and “Sexuality” in the Hebrew Bible. BIS 26. Leiden: Brill, 1997. Camp, Claudia V. Wise, Strange, and Holy: The Strange Woman and the Making of the Bible. JSOTSup 320. Gender, Culture, Theory 9. Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 2000. Chapman, Cynthia R. The Gendered Language of Warfare in the Israelite-Assyrian Encounter. HSM 62. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2004. Creangă, Ovidiu, ed. Men and Masculinity in the Hebrew Bible and Beyond. BMW 33. Sheffield: Sheffield Phoenix Press, 2010. Eilberg-Schwartz, Howard. God’s Phallus: And Other Problems for Men and Monotheism. Boston: Beacon, 1995. Huber, Lynn R., and Rhiannon Graybill, eds. The Bible, Gender, and Sexuality : Critical Readings. London, UK ; T&T Clark, 2021. Guest, Deryn. When Deborah Met Jael: Lesbian Biblical Hermeneutics. London: SCM, 2005. Graybill, Rhiannon, Meredith Minister, and Beatrice J. W. Lawrence, eds. Rape Culture and Religious Studies : Critical and Pedagogical Engagements. Lanham, Maryland: Lexington Books, 2019. Graybill, Rhiannon. Are We Not Men? : Unstable Masculinity in the Hebrew Prophets. New York, NY: Oxford University Press USA, 2016. Halperin, David J. Seeking Ezekiel: Text and Psychology. University Park: Pennsylvania State University Press, 1993. Jennings, Theodore W. Jacob’s Wound: Homoerotic Narrative in the Literature of Ancient Israel. New York: Continuum, 2005. Macwilliam, Stuart. Queer Theory and the Prophetic Marriage Metaphor in the Hebrew Bible. BibleWorld. Sheffield and Oakville, CT: Equinox, 2011. Maier, Christl. Daughter Zion, Mother Zion: Gender, Space, and the Sacred in Ancient Israel. Minneapolis, MN: Fortress, 2008. Mills, Mary E. Alterity, Pain, and Suffering in Isaiah, Jeremiah, and Ezekiel. LHB/OTS 479. New York: T. & T. Clark, 2007. Stökl, Jonathan, and Corrine L. Carvalho. Prophets Male and Female: Gender and Prophecy in the Hebrew Bible, the Eastern Mediterranean, and the Ancient Near East. AIL 15. Atlanta, GA: SBL, 2013. Stone, Ken. Practicing Safer Texts: Food, Sex and Bible in Queer Perspective. Queering Theology Series. London: T & T Clark International, 2004. Weems, Renita J. Battered Love: Marriage, Sex, and Violence in the Hebrew Prophets. OBT. Minneapolis, MN: Fortress, 1995.

[loquaciousquark]

"Please don't leave me/I can't do this without you" from anonymous (caretaker - 20); "dance with me" from @sasskarian (flowers - viscaria); "come down/come back" from anonymous (flowers - Jacob's ladder).

3000 words, set mid-Act 3. I had too much fun with this one, so you'll have to forgive the self-indulgence.

—

“Say it.”

“Certainly not.”

“Say it.” Tav’s whisper had taken on the wheedling quality that it always did when she was laughing at his expense. “Please don’t leave me, darling. I can’t do this without you.”

“I’ll rot first,” Astarion snapped, and he heard Tav stifle a snort of laughter in her own arm. A few rustles followed as she clearly settled down to wait on the other side of the cell wall; Astarion guessed they were roughly back to back, even if six inches of solid stone separated them. He stretched out his legs in the thin, disgusting straw that covered the prison floor, crossed his bare ankles, and closed his eyes. “How utterly useless you are.”

“I’m not the one in Heapside.”

“For once in your life,” Astarion said bitterly, and he heard her laugh again. “Wretched, half-witted clod. Watching me paraded away by three Fists—three of them—for no reason at all. Not even an attempt to save me. An innocent man!”

“You stole a melon in broad daylight.”

“Half a melon. From an abandoned picnic blanket in the middle of the park without a single soul in sight to complain.” He curled his lip in annoyance. “I’d picked it up for you, darling.”

“Liar.”

She was right—he’d taken it as idly as Gale humming while he cooked—but Astarion was in no mood to entertain conciliation. “Well! As charming as it is to sit here and listen to you gloat, my dear, I apparently have a gods-damned sentencing to await.” He thumped his head back against the wall in annoyance. “Nearly two hundred years successfully avoiding this execrable place, and you have me slung in here within a handful of months.”

“I just wanted to share the joy with you.”

“Please don’t.”

“Shut up in there,” one of the guards said sharply. He rattled a cudgel against the bars of Astarion’s cell, then peered into the dim shadows. “Who the hells are you talking to?”

“Myself, darling,” Astarion drawled. “The best company one can dredge up in this awful place.” He rapped a knuckle against the wall behind his head. “Tell me, what’s behind here? Storage? Another cell?” He leered. “Somewhere you and I might be a little more…private?”

“Fink,” he heard Tav breathe through the cracked stone.

The guard flinched, blushed, and smacked the iron bars again. “Nothing for you to care about. Shut your mouth or I’ll shut it for you.”

“I suppose my fortitude is robust enough to endure the mystery,” Astarion said aloud, and the guard continued on his route, still grumbling. After a moment, with the last bare vestiges of his temper, Astarion hissed, “Well?”

A series of images raised themselves before his mind’s eye, like a cardsharp rifling through a trick deck. A loose stone about two feet to his left, displaced just enough for Tav to slide through a wrapped set of her lockpicks. A great storage chest in the middle of the main prison floor, made of oak and reinforced with iron straps, where all his stripped belongings had been stored. A view of the main room through a cracked door—the door to the privy hallway where Tav was hidden—and the pair of guards playing checkers at the back table, swords ready at hand beside them.

Excellent. He didn’t bother to work out a plan—they never seemed to come right anyway—but as he laid one surreptitious hand on the loose stone, he felt Tav hold it in place from the other side, preventing him from taking the tools. “Please, darling. Don’t be a bore.”

“Tell me you can’t do it without me.”

“I’ll shout your name to the bloody rafters if you don’t let go.”

“How stupid that I still love you,” he heard her sigh, and the stone released.

Ignoring the swoop his heart gave at that, Astarion quickly unrolled the leather and perused her tools. This part of his cell was exceedingly dark, and he had to pause with affected unconcern for a moment or two as the patrolling guard made another lap. Even so, he could see enough to be disgusted. “Ugh.”

“What?”

“Your tension wrench has a bend in the neck.” He grimaced. “And your long rake is missing altogether. Darling, you live like this?”

“Why would I need a rake when I have the half-diamond?” Ah, there was real irritation in her voice now. Entertainment at last. “And you bent the tension rod, remember? When you borrowed it in the basement of Sorcerous Sundries, after your own melted in that fire trap.”

“I don’t recall,” he said in that offhanded way that he knew infuriated her, and he tucked the rest of the rolled-up toolkit into his shirtsleeve. “Honestly! I’m amazed you’ve ever unlocked anything lately.”

The gasp of outrage made him choke on his own laughter. “Idiot!” she said, the whisper almost slipping into full voice, and then he heard a shuffle behind the wall. “You’re on your own. Tymora keep you in your escape, because I certainly won’t.”

“Come now, darling, don’t be petty.” Astarion paused, but there was no answering retort, no further whisper or step. He reached out with the tadpole, but it rebounded off her mind like a hammer off an anvil, and he winced at the recoil.

She’d wholly shut him out. She’d actually left him here in this Heapside cell by himself. He was shocked at his own dismay. “Tavish? I demand you come back.”

“I told you to shut up in there!”

Silence.

Gods. She’d left him. Two hundred years knowing himself utterly alone and friendless, and the betrayal still felt as new and agonizing as a white-hot poker between the ribs. Gods below. He wanted to rip out his dead heart and crush it. He knew he could get out easily with what she’d slipped him—knew these cells would be as porous as she’d described—but by the Hells, that wasn’t the point—

“What are you waiting for?” Tav hissed.

Relief crashed over him like an upturned bucket of water. “I thought you’d left,” he gasped, unable to pretend away the fear.

“I would never really leave you,” she said shortly, as if it were obvious. Her voice was a little further away, he realized, and a little lower, as if she’d crouched deeper in some shadow, but she was still here, still with him, and the tremendous comfort that provided was at once appalling and invigorating. “I wouldn’t leave my worst enemy here. Well—maybe Gortash, I guess. But you? No. Never.”

“Good,” Astarion said, thoroughly shaken. “I’d hate to have to snap this tension wrench the rest of the way.”

“I’ll snap your fingers if you do. Are you ready?”

“Naturally, darling. Do try to keep up.” He clambered to his feet, stretched, then went to the door of his cell, where he casually folded his arms against the bars. “Guard! Oh, guard! Come here—something’s the matter with my lodgings.”

“Tyr’s right hand,” the man sighed, circling the room’s central pillar to come to him. “You’re noisier than a fleet of jackdaws. What’s wrong with you now?”

“Any number of things,” Astarion said, letting the annoyance bleed through every word. As the guard reached his door, a shadow flickered behind him. It was gone in an instant, and a moment later one of the braziers on the pillar went out with a little puff of smoke. “I’ll settle at the moment for the straw, however.”

“The straw?”

He swept his arm grandly behind him. “Look at it! Thin, damp, and utterly reeking of piss. My dear boy, these aren’t fit conditions for a dog, much less a man.” He could barely make out the shape of the chest that held his belongings in the deepened shadows, but he thought he saw the lid lift an inch or two, pause, then lift a few inches more. “Oh! How curious…hm.”

The guard took a few hesitant steps nearer, hand on his cudgel. “What? What is it? What are you looking at?”

“Your eyes. They nearly glow in the lamplight.” He let his voice drop into his chest, low and rumbling, and turned his head so that the curl of his close-mouthed smile caught the torches. “They’re…beautiful. That’s all. Captivating, really.”

“What does he want?” called one of the guards playing checkers.

“Nothing, nothing!” Even in the dimness Astarion could see the man was blushing furiously. Gods, how easy it was to slip back into all of this, like reaching for some ancient tattered overcoat at the start of winter. Not warm, not beloved, not even attractive—just the only functional defense one had against freezing to death. “Captivating,” the man repeated, a little amazed, and then he gave a self-conscious laugh. “Oh. Because you’re—because you’re captive.”

Disgusting. A wit. Astarion snaked a hand between the bars and ran a finger up the man’s armored stomach. “And charming, too. What a pity.”

In his periphery, the lid of the wooden chest dropped silently shut. The shadow darted back behind the pillar while the man was staring cross-eyed at Astarion’s finger; a moment later Tav straightened up directly behind the guard, peering at Astarion over the man’s shoulder. Her eyebrows were raised in question.

The fight to keep his face still was monumental. Little idiot!

The man gave a startled, awkward laugh into the quiet and began to back away. Astarion hooked a finger in his collar like lightning and dragged him an inch or two nearer the bars. “You know, darling, this cell’s rather big for one person. A man might find himself lonely if he’s left here long enough. You know…” He licked his lips. “Frustrated.”

Tav rolled her eyes over the guard’s shoulder, but she noiselessly dipped away into the dark again as the guard stammered and babbled. After a few seconds Astarion saw the door on the far side of the room crack open, revealing a glimpse of stairs beyond, then close. He waited a few minutes more, idly toying with the guard’s belt as he murmured something nonsensical about candlelight, and then the door opened and closed again without a sound. Perfect.

“But you’re—you’re so beautiful,” the man was saying, and the very small portion of Astarion that was still listening gave a polished, tittering laugh. “I reckon I probably shouldn’t have—you know. Told you to shut up.”

“You’ll think of a way to make it up to me,” Astarion purred, and the entire prison rattled with a brief but deafening explosion.

Dust and grit cascaded down around them. Astarion’s guard didn’t yelp, but the other two did, and all of them waited in breathless silence for the braziers to stop trembling. The explosion had come from directly above the prison’s main room, and Astarion could hear shouts and calls of worry over many pounding feet.

“We’d better—” one of the guards at the checkerboard said, and she and her partner rose and hurried through the far door to the stairs—after unlocking it first, which Astarion found immensely satisfying. The guard at Astarion’s cell hesitated, glancing back and forth between Astarion and the door where they’d disappeared; eventually the fear won, and he trotted with one hand on his cudgel to the base of the stairs and peered up after his comrades.

As effortless and choreographed as a dance. The moment the guard’s back was turned Astarion had the lock undone, even with Tav’s wretched half-diamond and bent tension wrench. In a trice he was out of the cell altogether, the dagger Tav had slipped him via the guard’s belt firm in his grip.

She’d understood his need for a blade, even with picks in hand. She knew better than most the difference between being loose and being free.

Another brazier winked out with a puff of smoke. Astarion spared a precious few seconds to relock the cell door behind him—if she could do it, so could he, and it would be hilarious besides—and as he finished he felt Tav’s hand alight on the small of his back. He raised his arms for her to rebuckle his belt around his waist; in the same motion he returned her picks to their leather case and hooked the case itself to her hip. The belt’s leather tongue hissed as she drew it taut, and the returned weight of his sheathed knife was a comfort in itself.

The dagger he kept bare in his hand. For an instant his eyes fell on the guard still standing at the bottom of the stairs. The throw would be effortless, even in the dark. Simple. Clean. The smart thing to do, really.

But Tav wouldn’t like it. He knew she wouldn’t, as sure as he knew their next steps in this silent waltz, and with a grimace he turned away from the guard. She lifted her eyebrows again; he gestured impatiently, and she gave a slow, sweet smile before hooking a hand around his neck and pulling him down into a kiss.

Ah. An improvisation, and one Astarion enjoyed very much, even here. He sighed through his nose, the weight of the last few hours rolling away like the coins from a spilled purse, and he slid an arm around her waist. His own pack obstructed his way briefly, the straps far too long for her shorter frame, but she arched into his chest anyway with her habitual eagerness, and that was more than enough.

Gods. How easy it became to endure every trial the city might conjure up when he knew Tav would be waiting for him at the end of it.

“I have a confession, darling,” he breathed against her mouth. A second, much smaller explosion went off upstairs to a chorus of startled cries.

Tav’s eyes were bright with humor. “Hm?”

“As it happens, I’d rather not do this without you.”

“Mm,” she said, satisfaction thrumming through the sound, and she kissed him again.

Ah, but they were pushing their luck already. Despite every part of him yearning to cling to Tav until the prison came down around them, he released her when she pulled away, and when she led him by the hand back through the privy door he followed without complaint. She locked the door behind them; he broke the bolt in place. He’d very much miss seeing the guard’s look of stupid shock, but—

“Here,” Tav whispered in his ear. She slid aside a stone about the length of a finger, just wide enough for Astarion to peer through if he crouched a bit. “Found this about eight months ago.”

“The gifts you give me, my dear,” he breathed, and he felt her vibrate with laughter against him. It took a little jostling, but they managed to find a position where they both could see, and they watched together as the guard at last came back around the pillar, glanced over, and paused with comic confusion at the sight of the empty cell.

“Uh,” the man said aloud. He crossed to the cell door, jostled it, and then unlocked it with a key from his pocket. He stepped into the cell itself with a series of useless looks to the walls, the scattered straw, and inexplicably the ceiling, as if he expected to find Astarion clinging upside-down to the stone, then came out and stared helplessly at the empty room. “Uh,” he said again, much higher, and then with obvious panic he quick-marched himself up the far stairs and out of sight.

Still laughing, Tav led Astarion back along the privy hall, past the privy itself, and then through a small broken grating about halfway up the wall. It was a tight squeeze for Astarion, though he made do by pinching Tav’s ankles every time she paused, and soon enough they stood on a small stone ledge overlooking a reasonably finished portion of the sewers. Another much larger grate to their right let in a considerable amount of afternoon sunlight, and Astarion stretched catlike in its warmth.

“An acceptable rescue, I take it,” Tav said, watching him. That damnable smile still played over her mouth; Astarion wanted very badly to kiss it.

“A little lengthy, I thought,” he said instead, and settled for resting his fingers alongside her throat. “And it all involved me spending rather too much time with a very dull idiot. Though I suppose I can’t really complain, seeing as I am, in fact, free once more. Here, darling, for you. Never let it be said you found me ungrateful.”

“What’s this?”

“Only a small trifle,” he said, and watched with tremendous satisfaction as she opened the clinking bag.

“Astarion!” Her eyes lit with genuine delight, and she ran her fingers through the gold like water. “You lifted this for me? Really?”

“Every coin he had,” he said, and when she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek the satisfaction in his chest brimmed over into an ocean. “Besides, my dear, I suspect you’ll need it. How much alchemist’s fire did you use, anyway? I thought the walls might come down around my ears.”

“Every vial we had,” she admitted, and she gave him a proper, if woefully brief, kiss on the mouth. “I thought the first match hadn’t taken, so I threw three more. Thank Gond the mortar held. Here, take back your pack. It’s heavy.”

“And you’ve all the strength of a damp tissue,” Astarion said, but he lifted the pack from her shoulders. A glimpse of something beneath the half-latched flap made him pause. “What have you done?”

“I thought you might want it back,” Tav said, the picture of perfect innocence. “Seeing as it started this whole mess in the first place.”

“You ghastly thing,” Astarion said, fangs bared, and with a great deal of prejudice he slung the blasted sunmelon as deep into the sewers as he could. It bounced twice, then disappeared into a small algae-choked pond with a sploosh. “How fortunate you have other charms.”

“Yes,” Tav agreed, linking her fingers through his, and they climbed together from the sewers into the clean, sweet air of the sunlit afternoon.

—

end.

—

For the record, Astarion's melon incident is adapted from this series of in-game events.

[dearestdarkling]

😮

Jacob Whitby, 2012 Father "Maybe the poison drips through."

"Do you know him?"

She can't be sure she's not just seeing things. It's late December; the outside of the bar is cast in hazy darkness and the faltering glow of rusty streetlights, whisps of cigarette smoke filtering out the entrance. It's the type of night that can lend itself to a certain fellowship of the imagination. Maya, her roommate, bristles next to her and it's not hard to see why: there's a man staring at them from across the parking lot, alone. He's been staring at them for a long time.

She's about to turn away, shake off the thought - but he raises a hand in acknowledgment, stilted, awkward; like he'd thought about waving then caught himself. Eleanor's heart actually skips a beat.

"... Can you wait in the car for me?"

"You're not serious, Elle. Who the fuck is that?"

"I promise it's fine. Give me ten minutes." She gives her friend's shoulders an affirmative squeeze, tries for a smile. "Listen, if I'm not back by then, feel free to get as Veronica Mars as you want on me, yeah?" One thing about Maya: she carries a taser with her everywhere.

The brunette blows out a breath through her teeth and shoots the man another wary look. Eventually, she cedes. "Alright, fine. Ten minutes or so help me God, I'm sic'ing the whole precinct on you. Be careful."

Eleanor watches her get into her Honda, an uneasy sense of anticipation beginning to take root in the pit of her stomach. Her feet begin to move of their own accord in his direction and all the while she's straining her vision through the dark and the smoke, trying to make him out beyond a shadow of a doubt, because the chances of it being him...

Seconds later she's bridged the gap and they're standing two feet away from each other. Her doubts evaporate into the frigid night air; her father looks exactly the same as when she'd last seen him, fifteen years ago. Hasn't aged a day.

They stare in complete silence, drinking in the sight of one another, tense, like they're each expecting the other to strike at a moment's notice. He's wearing a suit and there's a casual sort of elegance there in the way he carries himself, but she thinks he looks tired. Pale. Eyes bloodshot. The hand he'd held up earlier has a tremor and given their spotty family history she assumes he's been trying to keep the drinking -- or worse -- at bay for a while. There's other similarities there, one more striking than the others.

"You look like your mama."

"You look like Charles."

And it's so true it feels like a gut punch. Jacob Whitby's got practically all the same features as his late son just older, more worn. The spitting image of what could have been. Maybe he recognizes the weight of that because he has the decency to close his eyes for a moment, both hands burrowing into his pockets.

"The cops looked for you, you know," she says, crossing her arms against the chest. "Had a running theory for a while that you did it. Spurned ex-husband, deadbeat father... fits the bill."

His eyes are back on her, a storm of dark blue. "Is that right? That what you think, Ellie? You think I butchered my own family, then rode on in here to, what? To finish the job? Is that really what you think of me?"

"I don't think anything about you," she says coldly. "Not anymore. I don't know you. You're... you're a seven year old's memory and a... sixteen year old's pipe dream. That's all. I don't know why you're here. I just know you're too late in every way that's ever counted."

Her father groans, rakes a shaky hand through his blond hair roughly, like he might rip it out. "Jesus Christ, I didn't come here to fight, alright? I came here to..." he looks around, searching for the right words. Pulls up short. Eventually, he casts his gaze down at the ground, kicks at a stone. "... Are you okay? Are you happy?"

Something squeezes at her heart. There's a long forgotten impulse here, a call to a younger self that she doesn't wish to answer. The daddy's girl who'd follow him around his study all day and steal his glasses, smushing them onto her face with a wide grin, imploring him to look, look, daddy! until he scooped her up in arms and did a whirl around the room while she screamed. Towards the end he never did look. The door to the study would always be locked, her father sealed away.

"... I'm getting there," she admits quietly, resisting the urge to call him on the guilty conscience. There wasn't a point in making this any uglier than it had to be. He'd take off again soon, leave her holding the weight of all these memories. Of the family she'd buried, the one he'd wiped his hands clean of. Story as old as time. "I've got good people in my life. School helps too."

"Yeah? What are you studying?"

"Chemistry."

He looks suddenly alert at this, scrutinizing her; she has the distinctly uncharitable thought that he might have her pegged as some Walter White-esque gold mine, the long lost daughter that can cook him up some drugs. She tempers this judgement, clears her throat. "What have you been up to? And don't say it's complicated."

He smiles. It looks just as tired as the rest of him. "The only people who say that are the ones who can't sit with themselves. I've never had a problem with that. I know what I've done, what I haven't. Life's not complicated, Ellie, it's all just choices, over and over and over again. And it all comes back around, always, just not quite in the ways you'd expect it to." The smile dies, overtaken by shadows. "I made a choice, Ellie. And I chose wrong. That's all there is to it."

Eleanor doesn't know what to do with this. There's enough guilt in her to fill a colosseum, she doesn't want to shoulder his too. She's got nowhere to put it. So she looks at him again, a quiet appraisal, and she can see that the tremors are getting worse and her heart gives another lurch because she recognizes that shaking; she understands that look on his face, the thousand yard stare and the itch for enough liquor to drown in, because she knows what it's like to want to be anywhere else but here, to wish you'd been put in the ground a long time ago. She can't absolve him of anything, can't quite reach for him either, but she gives it a shot. "... You need help, dad. I work at this methadone clinic near campus. The staff there is really great and they can get you set up with all sorts of resources --"

"Remember that book I used to read to you when you were little?" he interrupts, looking right through her. "Something about these two rabbits trying to one up each other, measuring their love for one another. Remember that?"

She stares. The corner of her eyes are prickling and there's something tightening in her throat, but she can't look away. She feels small. "Yeah. Guess How Much I Love You."

"That's right. Guess How Much I Love You. You were obsessed with it, wouldn't go to sleep till I read it to you every night." He steps forward tentatively, slowly, and cups one of her cheeks, holds her gaze to his. Everything melts away and she's suddenly six years old again, looking up at her dad, waiting for him to finish the story. When he talks his voice is strained. "I love you all the way down the lane, as far as the river. I love you across the river and over the hills. I love you right up to the moon and back."

Then his eyes change. There's a hard, cold intensity in them now and she feels her mind clouding over as his grip on her tightens, hard and purposeful. "I want you to forget all of this, Ellie. It never happened. You never saw me. The one thing I want you to take from it is that you're going to keep at your studies, you're going to stay in science, never deviate. You're going to stay on that path and maybe... maybe one day we'll see each other again. Now, turn around. Go back to your friend. Enjoy your life."

Eleanor turns slowly on her heel, dazed, as her father's hand slips away from her. She walks and walks and walks, feeling like she's forgetting something. When she makes it to the parking lot she looks back over her shoulder, expectantly. There's no one there.

[atiny-piratequeen]

Against the Tide: Eighteenth Dal Segno (Ch. 18 Pt. 2)

Pairing: Poly OT8

•❥ Rating: Explicit (18+)

•❥ Genres: Heavy Angst, Action, Romance, Fluff, Smut, Fantasy

•❥ Series AU Tags: Demon Pirates, Supernatural, Poly Relationship (mxm), Past and Modern Day AU, Mythology Au, Slow Burn, Slice of Life, College Au, Rock Band Au, Happy Ending Endgame

•❥ Chapter Tws: Migraines, Nosebleeds, Blood, Guilt, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Anxiety, Misunderstandings, Poison

•❥ Chapter Sws: Foursome, Consentacle Tentacles (lets go Whiro!), Temperature Play, Comfort Sex, Finger Sucking, Jacob's Ladder Piercing, Hair Pulling, Blowjob, Frottage, Bareback, Auralism, Scent Kink, Cum Swallowing, Biting, Dacryphilia

•❥ WC: 14.6k+ out of 25.5k

•❥ A/N: The blue hellsite's devs are full of shit and my chapter was too big to post all in one so now I have to break it up into two posts. It would be real lovely for my AtTiny enjoyers to make sure to reblog my work when they're finished :3 This was going to be the reveal chapter but it was already 25k so I decided to break it up. Which...was clearly the right option since tumblr's new posting limitations hates me and my big chapters lmao. Thank you for waiting and stay tuned :) Also, if you haven't yet, maybe check out my new universe Ataraxia while you wait for the next chapter?

•❥AO3 | Taglist Form (Please make sure your urls are updated and able to actually be tagged) | Commission Sheet𓆩⟡𓆪

•❥ ©atiny-piratequeen 2024. do not repost, translate, or use my works.

•❥Network Pings: @kwritersworld​ | @cultofdionysusnet​ | @k-vanity​

•❥← previous dal segno                 next dal segno –>

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✣✤✣✤✣✤✣✤♖✣✤✣✤✣✤✣✤✣

April 1st

7:34am

-220 Days Remain-

✣✤✣✤✣✤✣✤♖✣✤✣✤✣✤✣✤✣

“Hold your head up. Keep your back straight. Slouching is unbecoming of a Prince.” 

Seonghwa opened his eyes, looking to his left, and spotting the form of his child self, staring at his old instructor. 

Ah, a dream. 

He watched his child self stand straighter, his grey eyes hardening as stared at his instructor, his jaw, as cherub as it may be, locking. 

“Yes, Teacher. I apologize.” 

“Perfect, Prince Seonghwa. Now, raise your sword. To be a leader, you must never show that you are tired. Never show weakness. Those who follow you will sense something is amiss and if their leader is weak, they will lose hope. Even if you know your back is against the wall, you musn’t show your subordinates. Always remember this.” 

Seonghwa’s child self gripped the practice sword tight, nodding as he once again began to swing at the dummy before him, keeping his posture perfect. 

The current Seonghwa watched his younger self before turning, exhaling gently and heading in the opposite direction. 

He walked through rustling trees and the scenery began to melt into something different. 

Intricate designs on the carpet beneath his feet, expensive paintings lining the walls of rulers before him. Beautiful vases full of freshly picked and tended to flowers. 

The hall stopped on two frames. 

One, burned to cinders, of his father. Through the ash and damage, Seonghwa almost could not recognize him. 

He, however, knew the hilt of that falcata well. 

The very one situated on his hip currently. 

Seonghwa grit his teeth and looked to the final frame in the hall of rulers. 

Staring back at him was an image of himself. Or, rather, his other self. 

Inky black hair, piercing ice blue eyes, the deep crimson streaks on his eyes and along his lips. A crown of ice sat atop his head. 

Seonghwa approached ‘himself’, staring into his own eyes. The painting smiled back at him, tilting its head slightly before leaning out of it and towards him. 

The ex prince did not shy away, even when ‘he’ reached out, grabbing his wrist and smearing paint all over Seonghwa’s it, right over his compass stone. 

Seonghwa glanced down before looking back at ‘himself’. 

Crimson lips opened. 

“Come. It is not these halls you wish to walk through, now is it?” 

Seonghwa opened his mouth to question ‘him’, but was yanked through the painting. 

He fell through the painting, careening downwards, eyes widening as the color began to fade around him. His ‘other’ self gripped his hand tight, a wild smile on his face as they fell. 

“Where are we going?” Seonghwa hadn’t opened his mouth, instead he heard his own voice echoing through the space they were falling through. The ‘other’ him glanced over his shoulder at Seonghwa before looking down. 

“The place we’ve been yearning. Even if its for a little bit.” 

Before Seonghwa could reply, the gray blur around him as he fell began to rapidly fill with color once more until it cradled him like a blanket. He could no longer feel ‘him’ holding his hand. 

Seonghwa did not know when he’d closed his eyes again, but when he opened him, he was…home. 

No, not the castle, not the house in Seoul…he was home. 

The scent of salt from the ocean filled his nose first, then the rhythmic sound of water splashing along the hull of The Utopia. 

Seonghwa felt his throat tighten as he looked around. 

“I’ve never cooked swordfish before, but I’m excited to try!” 

He turned his head, watching as Yeosang stood with his hands on his hips, admiring the giant swordfish Jongho and Whiro had hefted aboard. San and Wooyoung stood not too far off, with Wooyoung singing a song they’d picked up in the last port town, slowly forming a new set of knives for their beloved chef to hack apart the fish for easier transport down into the galley. 

“I don’t care what ya do with it, just make it good for all the damn effort it took for us to bring this big ass fish up here, yeah?”

“Don’t be so fucking rude when asking for something, jackass.” 

Yeosang smiled patiently as Whiro rose from Jongho’s skin, growling and starting another one of their usual arguments. 

“Thanks so much, Doc. I drank that concoction you gave me yesterday and I feel leagues better than I did before!” Sana cheered, slapping Yunho on the back before she rushed over to get to work, tying her hair back as she did. 

Yunho watched her go with a smile, muttering thanks to Geb as he checked his watch and startled. 

“Ah! I’m late! I have to feed Atlas.” He rushed past Seonghwa, smiling and waving at him before hurrying below the deck. Seonghwa waved back and continued walking, finding Mingi seated on a barrel, glasses balanced on his nose as he scanned whatever was on the report in his hands. 

Seonghwa felt his heart clench for a moment. 

He stopped in front of Mingi. His presence drew the boatswain’s attention in an instant, with Mingi peering up at him over the rim of his glasses. Once he realized who it was, he set the report down. 

The dark-haired man sent him a big, genuine smile. 

“Hey! We’re lookin’ good. I think I finally got the hang of the numbers Cap’n wants to keep while also being mindful of resourc-Oh!”Mingi stopped short when Seonghwa threw his arms around his frame. 

He looked at the First Mate with concern before closing his eyes and rubbing his back. 

“It’s not like you to slouch, Seonghwa.” 

“I just want to hold you again, it’s been so long. Please…please let me just hold you a little longer.” Seonghwa almost didn’t recognize his own voice as he pushed it out. Mingi hummed before looking towards the sky, exhaling a small, good-natured laugh. 

“You’ll hurt your back if you don’t stand up straight.” 

“To hell with my back. To hell with it all. I just want to fix this. I miss…I miss this. I miss us. All of us.” 

Mingi gently pulled him away, smiling at him and cocking his head. 

“I know you do. After all, if it were just him you cared about, wouldn’t you have run into him first?”

Seonghwa watched as Mingi hopped off of the barrel, standing taller than him and cupping his face. His rough thumbs wiped Seonghwa’s cheeks of tears that had yet to fall. 

“I need to get stronger.” 

“I agree with you.” 

Seonghwa stared at Mingi, his heart pounding as the boatswain leaned in. Instinctively, he closed his eyes, expecting to feel the phantom brush of lips against his own. 

Instead, Mingi placed his lips near the shell of his ear. 

“We are in the past, Seonghwa. Nothing is going to change that. You can only change the future.” 

Seonghwa exhaled shakily, holding Mingi tighter. He pulled the ex prince closer and set his chin on his shoulder. 

“Regardless of what has happened, what will happen. I want you to know something. Take it to heart, okay?” Mingi ran his fingers over the fabric of Seonghwa’s clothes, admiring it as he spoke. 

“What lies behind you and what lies in front of you…that all pales in comparison to what lies inside of you, Seonghwa. And this goes for all of us.” Mingi pulled away for the last time, stopping to steal a long awaited kiss from Seonghwa’s lips. He kept their heads together, staring into Seonghwa’s teary eyes before grabbing his report and turning. 

“Go on, you should see him before you wake up.” 

With that, he walked away from Seonghwa, leaving the ex prince there to collect himself. 

It took the blonde longer than he would like to admit, but once he did, he exhaled and turned on his heel, rushing through the bodies on the ship. 

He did not care for the fact that he ran through some figures, with them blurring into vague aberrations before returning to the familiar faces of his old crew members, going about their business as if they hadn’t been disturbed. 

He found him on the quarter-deck, his back to him as he checked the compass in his hand. 

Seonghwa flew over, hugging him tight, burying his face into his back and letting the tears he’d barely reeled in freefall from his eyes. 

The man grunted before he glanced back, chuckling softly and placing a hand on Seonghwa’s.

That laugh, that beautiful sound. 

“It’s not often I see ya cryin’. Can’t say I’m a fan of seein' ya all messed up like this when yer not feelin’ good.” Captain Hongjoong turned in his arms, kissing the top of Seonghwa’s head and then laughing when the prince pulled him into a desperate kiss with no fanfare. 

“Please, stay with me. All of you please don’t go again. I…I don’t want to wake up please just let me stay.” 

Hongjoong looked at him before he glanced off towards the sea. There was a pained look in his eyes, but it was gone a moment later, as he turned his attention back to Seonghwa. 

“I know it’s unfair, but I’m askin’ ya to stand up straight and be strong.”

Seonghwa felt pain in his chest as he stood up, watching as Hongjoong leaned over the monkey rail. He wanted to scramble to grab him, to yank him back into his arms, but the rational side of him knew if he panicked, he’d awaken from this much earlier than he was willing to risk. 

Not now. Please, not now. 

He just wanted to talk for a bit longer. Just to hear his lover’s voice. Seonghwa focused when Hongjoong’s voice carried over the sound of the splashing waves. 

“What do you think it means to be a Captain?”

Seonghwa stared at Hongjoong’s back for a long time, watching as he gazed down to the deck below. Occasionally, someone would look up, notice the man's watchful eye, and give him a respectful nod, a wave, a fist pat across their own chest in acknowledgment.

Seonghwa watched them silently. 

“I haven't the slightest clue, putois. I don’t…I don’t think I’ve done you any justice in your… absence.” Seonghwa cringed, glancing at the deck below his feet. 

Hongjoong laughed and leaned on the wooden rail, the wind sweeping his hair. A smirk pulled at the corner of his lips. 

“Ah, after all of this time, you’re still thinkin' with that Princely mindset, eh?  C’mon, Seonghwa, think out of tha box!”

Seonghwa’s lip curled but he held back the tongue lashing he had for him, instead watching Hongjoong shift from foot to foot, humming. 

“To me,” he started. “Every breath I take is for my crew. I would do anything for them. No pain is too great. No injury too grave. As long as I can move, I will ensure my crew is protected.”

Seonghwa looked down at the men shuffling about, lips slightly pursed. He could see Daniel gently motioning in a direction, followed by half a dozen members trotting down below the deck in mismatched harmony, carefree smiles on their faces. 

His eyes drifted back to Hongjoong.

“And what about you?”

Hongjoong glanced over his shoulder.

“What about me? I have this gift now. And with it, I protect my crew. My ship. I can be cut to pieces, but the moment I mend myself back, I will come back. Better. Stronger. This is what a Captain does. At least to me. No matter how much it hurts, no matter how much sleep I lose, I pledged to do right by my crew.”

Seonghwa hummed, closed his eyes, and let out a shaky exhale.

What it means to be a Captain, huh?

“I don’t think I have what it takes.” 

“I think that’s bullshit.” 

Seonghwa opened his eyes, and all seven of his lovers stood before him.  He looked around, his brows pinching together as his lip wobbled again. Hongjoong walked over to him, cupping his cheek. 

“I have to go, Seonghwa. It’s about that time, eh?” 

“No! No wait, please!”

“It’s going to be okay. I believe in you. I wouldn’t have trusted my crew with you if I didn’t. Don’t give up. Not when you’ve found me. Keep going.” 

“Hongjoong, I can’t, okay?! I’ve..I’ve ruined everything. Mingi hates me…you don’t remember us, please. Just…just let me stay-”

“It’s time to wake up, Seonghwa.” 

Seonghwa watched as the man before him changed, the shaggy chestnut mullet now a well trimmed and fluffy black and white nest of loose curls. Soft, honey brown eyes stared up at him and Seonghwa looked down at the image of the current Hongjoong. 

“I…I don’t want to wake up-”

The musician placed his hand on the center of Seonghwa’s chest. 

“Get up, Seonghwa.”

“No! No, no, no, just a bit longer-”

“It’s time to get up.”

Hongjoong pushed him, and Seonghwa found himself powerless to stop it, falling back with the image of his lovers staring back at him being the last thing he saw before he fell through the deck. 

Once again…the color around him began to fade to gray as the ship got further and further away.

And then-

“CHEESE WILL PERFORM LIFE SAVING MEASURES! EVERYONE STAND BACK!”

Seonghwa jolted up, the sensation of falling the second time triggering his instincts. In an instant, Cheese came storming towards him, knocking him out of his bed and onto the floor before pressing onto his chest. 

“Live, Master Captain Seonghwa!!! LIIIIIIVE!”

“C-Cheese, he’s immortal, he doesn’t need you to do chest compressions-” San frowned, brows furrowed. Whiro cackled from where he’d pulled himself up from Jongho’s skin. 

“No, no, please let him continue, this is fuckin’ hilarious.”

Jongho rolled his eyes and made his way over, picking Cheese up and frowning down at the oldest immortal. 

“Hey, you alright?” 

Seonghwa sat staring at the ceiling in shock for a moment before he pushed himself up into a sitting position. 

Jongho and Yunho stood closest to his bed, worried expressions on their faces. Wooyoung was not too far off, holding a bowl of cool water as Yeosang wrang out a rag, paused mid-way as he stared at Seonghwa, bewildered. San sighed, setting aside the smelling salts he had fished out of Yunho’s room, pursing his lips in concern. 

Mingi stood in the doorway, quietly observing. 

“You were…screaming and crying in your sleep. We couldn’t wake you at all. Are…are you alright?” Yeosang inquired, rushing over to place the rag on his head. Seonghwa momentarily forgot the nature of the very powers inside of him, instead relaxing the instant the cool rag touched his head. 

He was covered in a fine sheen of sweat and his eyes and throat stung, proof of the aforementioned screaming and crying episodes. Yunho ducked down and picked him up, setting him in his bed and holding a hand over his body. A faint green glow emitted from it as he seemed to check Seonghwa’s body with his powers. 

“Your vitals are good. It seems it was only a nightmare. However, I am detecting traces of-” Geb’s tender voice sounded from Yunho’s lips and Seonghwa shook his head, cutting him off. 

“I’m fine, Geb, please don’t worry.”

Yeosang clenched his fists.

“You’re doing it again. Why?”

Seonghwa’s gaze lifted to Yeosang, blinking in surprise.

“Doing…? What am I-”

“Did you know? Your scent changes when you lie. When you tell half truths, even. Everyone’s does.” Yeosang walked up, eyes blazing. Seonghwa stared up at him, pressing his lips together. There was a flash of something in his eyes, Mingi knew it well. The oldest of their group of immortals didn’t like to be challenged, and would usually respond accordingly. 

However, this time, as quickly as the look crossed his face, it was gone, replaced with a stone-esque poker face, albiet a bit too late for those who knew him well.

So…everyone in the room. 

“Yeosang, there is no need to be concerned.”

“Show me your side. Lift your shirt up, actually.”

“....”

“If there’s no need for concern, there’s no reason to not show me, right? My nose can just as easily be playing tricks, right?” He pointed to Seonghwa, eyes bleeding to crimson.

“Explain to me why I smell your blood, since there is no cause for concern, Park Seonghwa.”

A silence fell over the room that instantly made the air stifling. Seonghwa rubbed his tired eyes and let out an exhausted sigh before sending his lovers a smile that didn’t convince a single one of them he had pulled it together. 

“I…truly do not wish for any more fighting between us. I’ve been the reason for so much, already. They will heal. I’m sorry to disturb everyone so early. Thank you for checking on me. I…need to organize my thoughts and I will be alright.” He ran a hand through Cheese’s fur as he spoke to them. 

San looked down as he did. Seonghwa’s hand was trembling. 

“Seonghwa…” Yeosang realized his out of character outburst had made the man put up his walls again. A pang of guilt struck him hard and reached for him. Seonghwa caught his hand, turning it in one fluid movement and placing a kiss to his knuckles. 

“I’m sorry for worrying you.” He spoke softly, a sense of finality in his tone. 

Drop it, please.

“We’re gonna get him back, Hwa.” San sat on the edge of the bed, putting his hand over Seonghwa’s free one. The ex prince let out a small exhale. He turned his hand up, taking San’s in his and raising it to his lips like he had done with Yeosang’s. San didn’t move, his expression softening as Seonghwa brushed his lips over his knuckles and pressed San’s palm to his cool cheek. 

“I…I know. I won’t stop until I do. I want…to be a man worthy of guiding and loving all of you.” His normally sure and bold voice came out as a mere whisper. 

Wooyoung came to his side quickly. 

“Of course you are!” 

Seonghwa could sense out of his peripheral that Mingi was still there, watching quietly. He had the hindsight not to glance in his direction and risk sending the wrong message. Instead, he closed his eyes, speaking clearly as he held San’s hand in place. 

“Do not misunderstand. I do not say these words because I wish for any of you to feel pity for me. I say them because I have made grave mistakes and I wish to atone for them. Until I do, how can I look any of you in the eyes and call myself a leader? How can I call myself an adequate lover when I have let you all down so tremendously?”

Jongho glanced at Yunho, who seemed to have a comment on the tip of his tongue but refrained. A guilty look settled on his face instead. 

‘I’ve pushed him too much, Geb.’

‘Perhaps.’

“My actions and…the harm they have caused are my own. It is on me to right these wrongs. My body will heal from these wounds in time. With that being said,” Seonghwa got out of his bed, looking around everyone in the room. 

“I wish to try that trial once more. But I don’t want anyone to feel rushed or pressured into doing it instantly like we had before.” he ran a hand through his hair and nodded. 

“I will be down for breakfast soon, I just…I would like to shower first, I'm covered in sweat. Thank you all for checking on me.” He stood, gently maneuvering around Cheese so the canine didn't fall. 

His remaining lovers exchanged concerned glances at one another before Jongho reached for him, catching his wrist and sending him a smile. 

“Mind if we join?”

Seonghwa’s lips parted, before he glanced down, finding a shadow subtly looped around his ring finger, tugging gently. 

The ex prince looked up, pressing his lips together to hide the small wobble. Gods, was he not done with the crying? Did it follow him into the waking world?

“C'mon.” Even Whiro regarded him with a tender tone, and Seonghwa found himself nodding, his feet slightly dragging along the cool floors. 

Mingi stepped out of the doorway as Jongho and Whiro ushered Seonghwa out.

“Seonghwa,”

The blonde perked, looking over his shoulder at Mingi. He rubbed his arm slightly, looking to the floor. Cheese had appeared at his side, rubbing against his leg before sitting at his feet.

“...Make sure to wash your face. It's…puffy. And, um. Drink water. So you don't get a headache. From the…crying and all.”

Seonghwa slow blinked at him before he let out a small exhale, the tears he'd been trying to force back down flowing from his face at the clear-albeit a bit awkwardly executed-words of concern.

“Thank you, Mingi. I'll be back soon.” Seonghwa’s voice somehow remained stable despite his tears (and the occasional laughs as he tried to wipe his face)

Jongho ducked down, looping his arm under the taller immortal's legs, picking him up.

“I got you. Just put your head on our shoulder and let us take it from here.” Jongho’s voice grew further from everyone as he carried Seonghwa down the hall.

Yeosang looked at the floor, guilt tearing at him. He quietly excused himself, cursing in several tongues as he maneuvered past his lovers. 

“I…I’ll make breakfast…”He trailed off, the usual excitement in his voice to do so gone as he jogged downstairs.

It wasn’t like him to lose his cool like that, but he could see the clear hurt on Seonghwa’s face and it was like watching a horrible accident in slow motion.

Still in the doorway, Mingi glanced into the room at the remaining occupants before ruffling Cheese's fur.

“Come on, let's go help Yeosang.” He nodded towards the stairs and Cheese happily trotted after him. 

In the bathroom, Seonghwa watched as Jongho and Whiro spoke back and forth to one another in Māori, moving about the room and grabbing different items. 

“Should we do a bath or shower?”

“Shower. I don't know if he's going to want to sit and be in his own head in a bath. Plus, foxy is making breakfast. It'd be rude to let it get cold by spending all day in the tub.”

Seonghwa couldn't understand a word they were saying, but he could tell they were working harmoniously, probably bouncing ideas off of one another.

“It's…nice seeing you two like this.” He softly spoke. Jongho perked for a moment before he extended his hand.

“We love you.” 

Seonghwa took his hand without hesitation, leaning into his space and holding his forearms gently. He pressed their foreheads together, staring into Jongho’s eyes. 

He noticed the right one had gone red, and his gentle smile grew as half of Jongho’s silken locks went blonde. 

“Couldn't wait your turn?” Seonghwa tried to jest but both of them cupped his face.

“I'm okay with sharing.”

“Just enjoy the pampering, pretty boy.”

Seonghwa ignored the latter response, closing his eyes and letting both tug him into a kiss. 

The two of them kissed him with a sense of gentleness foreign to Seonghwa. He was used to the demanding push and pull energies Whiro often put into his kisses, fighting without pause to control every aspect. 

Kissing Jongho was like approaching a newborn fawn in a way. He was far from the most delicate of the bunch. Still, Seonghwa always held in his subconscious the boundaries that the youngest had set in regards to his personal space and what did or didn't make him uncomfortable in moments in intimacy, even if he insisted on it being 'okay because it's you'.

Now, in this moment, Seonghwa felt he was being lead through the kiss. Their lips moved against his, and once he closed his eyes, he found he couldn't tell if it was Whiro or Jongho kissing him when the two had begun to switch off every now and again. 

A shadow wrapped around his hip, pulling him closer until Jongho wrapped a strong arm around his midsection, pulling him into the shower and pressing him against the wall under the overhead spray. 

Seonghwa cracked his eyes open, staring through a half lidded smolder. He was met one deep crimson eye and one dark brown one staring back at him, two toned silken locks clinging to Jongho/Whiro's body. 

"You two weren't kidding about sharing, huh? How long has it been since I've seen this?" Seonghwa spoke softly, a cool hand coming up to touch what was now Whiro's cheek as he kissed under Jongho's eye. 

"We'll take care of you. Don't worry ‘bout it." 

Seonghwa smiled softly and let the two pamper him, relaxing and giving himself up to them. 

For a little while, he’d just let his mind shut off. 

“Seonghwa, do you want to tell us what happened to cause these?” Jongho touched the purple splotches littering Seonghwa’s body, frowning at the wounds the ex-prince had been hiding underneath his clothes. 

“Training,” Seonghwa answered, cringing slightly as Jongho’s fingers brushed over some of them. He hissed slightly before avoiding the sharp gaze the Maori man (and Whiro) fixed him with. 

“Who did this to you?” Both of them growled out. Seonghwa shook his head and laced his fingers with theirs. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be taking care of me? If that’s your intention, how about you make me forget instead?”

The two of them leveled him with a stare before they moved in for a kiss. 

“Consider it done.”

Down in the kitchen, Yeosang stirred his pot with a conflicted look on his face. 

Everything around him seemed to be caving in on itself and he still felt they were leagues away from actually being ‘on the same page’. And he’d hurt one of the loves of his life.

How much longer was he going to be a useless backdrop while everything happened around him? If he stood aside and let the others do all the heavy lifting, he was nothing but a bystander.

He should know, more than anyone, the harm that causes.

The kitsune grit his teeth and set the handle to his spoon on fire.

“Y-Yeosang?!” Mingi’s voice made him focus and he put the fire out in an instant. 

“Sorry, I just…” He let out a frustrated sigh and took the apron off, tossing it aside.

“Mingi, most of it is ready, you only need to stirr it in ten minutes and then let it simmer for another five and then you can all eat. Don’t wait for me.” 

He spoke with an authority they weren’t used to as he made his way upstairs. 

He didn’t know what he was going to do, but he had to do something. Had to say something. Seonghwa was doing it again, taking so much on his plate in order to take the chaos off of the others.

But he wasn’t making it any better, putting him on the spot, lashing out at him…it broke Yeosang’s heart watching those icy walls go up. 

‘Communication, Yeosang. By the gods, talk to each other’ 

How much longer was he going to sit on the sidelines passively, hoping a ‘positive attitude’ and his cooking would continue to put bandaids on the problem?

Gods, he could hear his sister laughing at him in back of his mind. 

“Look at you, a big crybaby with no backbone. This kingdom can’t be led with anyone like you.”

The kitsune marched directly up to the bathroom, opening the door abruptly and coming face to face with Seonghwa covering his mouth, stifling noises as Jongho and Whiro washed him probably a lot more thoroughly for it to be considered ‘innocent’. 

“Gods above and fucking below-What is it?” Whiro grunted, barely hiding his annoyance. Jongho was a lot more understanding, turning his head towards Yeosang. 

“What’s wrong? Do you need us?”

Seonghwa seemed to have been sobered out of his daze, body tensing despite the swearing from Whiro at the immediate reversal of what he and Jongho had tried to do. 

“I…” Yeosang’s ears got hot as he stared, losing track of what it was he exactly wanted to articulate. Whiro noticed and rolled his eye, picking Seonghwa up unceremoniously. 

“Fuck’s sake, Foxy. If you’re gonna interrupt when someone’s in the middle of somethin’, at least have your shit together. Come on.” he stopped in front of Yeosang and tossed him over Jongho’s other shoulder. 

He carried the two ex princes unceremoniously down the hall to his room and opened the door with a shadow, dropping them both to the bed. 

Both Seonghwa and Yeosang bounced and Yeosang opened his mouth to let out a flustered serious of noises before he caught sight of purple splotches all over Seonghwa’s body and slowly-healing wounds. 

“My gods they’re worse than I thought-”

Seonghwa looked at them before looking away. 

“They’re from training, I’ll heal back up. Really, it’s not that bad.”

“What the hell training are you doing that you haven’t healed up the next day? You heal faster than I do; if it were a simple cut, they’d be gone. Who did this to you?” He panicked, looking at the splotches. Seonghwa glanced away. 

It’d cause a lot of trouble if he said he’d been poisoned by Hongjoong’s brother, wouldn’t it? He didn’t want anyone getting mad at Yuta. As much of a little shit as he may have been, he still only fought Seonghwa at his request. 

“I’ll be alright, please do not worry. These are just healing slower.”

Yeosang cupped his face and forced their foreheads together, staring into his eyes. 

“Why won’t you lean on us? Why do you keep putting yourself through hell alone?” 

Seonghwa’s eyes widened before he sighed. 

“Yeosang-”

“I hate to interrupt, I really do, but Whiro and I were trying to get his mind off of things and I don’t want things to spiral back into that right now.” Jongho cut in, moving to grab some bandages and salves from his dresser. Geb and Yunho had made sure every room in the house had it stocked. 

It was polite, but the message was clear; 

Get out if you’re going to upset him again.

Yeosang looked at Seonghwa and pressed his lips into a line. 

“Give me the salve, I’ll help.”

Seonghwa blinked in surprise as Yeosang began gently rubbing the salve onto various parts of his body, his concern shining on his face. 

“Let me know if I’m hurting you.” Yeosang muttered, hand shaking as he looked at the wounds. 

Now that he was focusing, they were slashes caused by some sort of blade…the edges of the torn skin were glowing faintly, and Yeosang worried his lip between his teeth. 

“I…I’m sorry…I lashed out at you and that was not…even remotely appropriate.” He spoke softly. Seonghwa’s shoulders lost a bit of their tension and he hummed, only hissing slightly at the sting of the salve.

“I understand. I’m sorry for worrying you.” He hummed. Yeosang pressed his lips into a line, eyes bouncing from wound to wound.

Who the fuck did this? Who the hell had….what he assumed was poison strong enough to slow down an immortal’s healing? Seonghwa’s healing was a league of its own, coming only after Yunho, Jongho, and their Captain. 

“Raise your head, Seonghwa.”

Seonghwa tilted his head back and let out a muffled noise of surprise when Jongho cupped his face, kissing him deep and slow. Yeosang’s ears twitched, glancing up a the men kissing above his head. Jongho held him firmly, tilting his head once and keeping Seonghwa locked in the intimate kiss without pause.

He could smell the way Seonghwa’s scent changed, sweetening subtly as he leaned into it a few moments after realizing Jongho was not giving him a mere peck.

Yearning. Need.

Yeosang liked this a lot more than the wilted scent that had clung to Seonghwa as of late. He’d…figure out what to do later in regards to easing the conflict in his partner’s heart. For now, he shifted his focus, wanting to match Jongho and Whiro’s energy when it came to distracting the blonde from his troubles, even if for a few moments.

His tails appeared and he curled one against Jongho’s waist, pulling him close before he leaned over to one of the gashes, pressing a warm kiss to Seonghwa’s chest. 

Each kiss left a lingering warm tingle to the ice prince’s body and he arched into both kisses, droplets of water rolling down his body. 

“S’pose we should dry him before moving on, hm?” Whiro reminded them, smiling devilishly at the dazed and needy look that had once again graced Seonghwa’s face. 

Yeosang waited until the Maori men moved away from Seonghwa’s lips before he leaned up, cupping his face and kissing him breathless, pushing him onto his back.

“Yeosa-mmff-” Seonghwa groaned, his hair clinging to his forehead and his neck as Yeosang poured all of his emotion into the kiss, tails stroking his arms, abdomen, and legs, leaving feather-like trails of warmth in their wake. 

“H-Hold on, wait-” Seonghwa blushed, cheeks ignting as he broke the kiss. Yeosang panted, holding his gaze, worry shining in his expression. 

“Did I hurt you?”

Seonghwa laughed gently, an alluring and sticky-sweet scent drifting off of him. 

“N-No.”

Yeosang tilted his head before a shadow worked its way between them, lifting him enough to get Seonghwa back in a sitting positon. 

“If that’s the mood you’re in, I’m happy to oblige. Let’s get you wrapped up, first.” Jongho’s voice cut in. Yeosang glanced down, his cheeks going beet red when he noticed Seonghwa had gotten aroused from the touches and kisses. 

“You don’t have to-”

“We want to, pretty boy. Trust me.”

Seonghwa’s lips parted in surprise before he looked down at Yeosang, a rare embarrassed expression crossing his face. Yeosang grabbed the bandages and began patching Seonghwa up, leaving kisses after each one. 

“I want to, as well. If you’ll have me.”

Jongho smiled and put his head on Yeosang’s shoulder.

“Now we’re on the same page.”

It took minutes before Seonghwa was splayed across Jongho’s lap, his chest rising and falling quickly as Jongho’s shadows stroked and caressed along his skin, tugging gently to leave him spread open for Yeosang to kiss and caress down his body. 

“Y-You don’t have to be so ge-gentle with me.”

“Really? Because you’re enjoying it just fine.” Whiro taunted, rising off of Jongho’s arms, taking his spot beside Yeosang between Seonghwa’s legs, kissing and biting at his thighs. 

Seonghwa let out a startled gasp before feeling Jongho’s fingers turn his head to kiss him, pressing flush against his back. 

“It’s okay. We got you.” Jongho muttered between his lips. Seonghwa whimpered before his hips jerked upwards, engulfed by the soft warmth of Yeosang’s mouth. 

Yeosang’s tails swayed and wagged gently, brushing along all three of the men. He kept his eyes up on Seonghwa, crimson eyes gleaming as he studied Seonghwa’s face. 

How long had it been since he’d seen this look?

The one the ex prince and First Mate wore well. The utterly ruined yet sultry expression that fit so well. His eyes rolling back, brows pinched together, tongue flicking out of his mouth-

Jongho reached around and tapped two of his fingers against Seonghwa’s lips, smiling in approval from behind him and kissing his shoulder as Seonghwa closed his lips around his fingers, licking and sucking as he spread his legs wider.

‘Gorgeous….’ Yeosang mused, swallowing around Seonghwa as he stared lovingly at the two. Whiro shifted from beside him, trailing rough fingers through his silken fur before he grabbed the base of them.

Yeosang jerked, nearly choking on Seonghwa’s cock as the deity turned his attention to him. 

“Stay focused, Foxy. Look at how good you’re doing.”

Yeosang shivered, feeling Whiro’s big hand tangle into his hair, guiding him up and down on Seonghwa’s length while holding him at an angle where he could see both Jongho and Seonghwa peering down at him. 

Yeosang felt himself throbbing before he moaned, sinking deeper and keening when he felt the head of Seonghwa’s cock brush against the back of his throat. 

“F-Fuhhh-”Seonghwa whimpered, drooling around Jongho’s fingers as he twitched. The shadows tightened around his thighs slightly before Whiro smirked, holding his head down for a few moments as he casually spoke to their blonde lover. 

“You’re making a mess, pretty boy. Been that long since you had something occupy your mouth?”

Seonghwa shuddered, body hyper sensitive. 

Gods, how long had it been?

“That’s not good. Knowing you, you haven’t even touched yourself, either?” Jongho sighed softly, biting and suckling his shoulder until a splotchy mark was left on the side of his neck. 

“H-Hadn’t crossed..nn..my mind. Been…occupied-”

“And that’s enough of that for now.” Jongho cut him off, using his free hand to come around and tease his nipple, making eye contact with Whiro across from then and tilting his head towards Yeosang.

Being connected like this had its perks and one of them was that they didn’t have to share their thoughts verbally. 

Yeosang hadn’t even realized Whiro’s hand was out of his hair until it returned to his tails, pushing them up and out of the way as he kissed and bit along the curve of his ass cheek.

Yeosang gasped and jerked, feeling those shadows tug his knees apart so he had better access. 

He glanced back at him, flushed and embarassed when the god spread him wide without hesitation. 

“Don’t worry about me, Darling. I’m just having breakfast. You focus on making our favorite blondie feel good.”

Yeosang’s tails flexed and trembled before curling around the three men in some way, shape, or form as Whiro’s tongue delved into him. 

Seonghwa cupped his jaw, sending him an adoring gaze as he moved his thumb lower, brushing his fingers over the slight bulge of Yeosang’s throat. 

“My darling fox. N-Ngh, thank you so much.” He praised him softly, thighs twitching and flexing in the shadows’ grip. Jongho smiled and moved his lips to his ear. 

“Your drooling all over yourself, Hwa.”

Seonghwa glanced over at him out of the corner of his eye, his teeth grazing along his fingers before sucking suggestively, curling his tongue around the calloused digits before sticking his tongue out between them, letting a bead of his saliva fall between them. 

Jongho narrowed his gaze at him, throbbing at the display. 

“I’m supposed to be gentle with you this morning, don’t make this harder on me.” 

Seonghwa’s lips quirked, challenging him with a subtle cock to his head. 

“I’m in your care.”

Yeosang’s voice drew their attention back between Seonghwa’s legs as he arched his back and let out a loud moan, trembling as Whiro’s tongue curled deep inside of him. 

‘Almost forgot how cute this one sounds’ Whiro’s voice echoed in Jongho’s head and he smiled, watching Yeosang’s eyes shine brighter, his tails twitching and wagging, going back and forth between clinging to them and jerking with each breathy and muffled gag and moan that came from his muffled lips.

“C-Close, hold on-” Seonghwa moved to reach for Yeosang’s head, trying to pull his hips back in a feeble attempt to still him so he didn’t cum down his throat. 

Two of Yeosang’s tails flew up the moment he did, grabbing his wrist and keeping him from stopping him as he looked up at him once more, holding his gaze as he sped his head up. 

“He’s doing his best to make you feel good, Seonghwa. You don’t have to hold back right now.” Jongho coaxed him, reaching down and cupping his balls, speaking into his ear once more. 

“Look at how desperate he looks, are you really going to keep it from him?” 

Seonghwa arched, body shuddering. Whiro rumbled from behind Yeosang, pulling away from the mess he’d made of his ass to lean over him, partially pinning him in place and grinning wildly up at Seonghwa as he took one of the kitsune’s ears between his teeth. 

“Don’t waste a drop, Foxy.”

Yeosang arched and swallowed hard the moment he felt Whiro’s canines clamp down on his fluffy ear. Everything was dizzying for the kitsune, the scent of arousal, need , and desperation along with everyone’s voices was driving him mad. 

Did none of them think about his poor heart? He could smell and hear everything tenfold because of what he was. 

If the deep, growling chuckle coming from the god currently pressing his cock against his ass as he suggestively caressed his throat where Seonghwa had made him bulge was anything to go by, he was sure they all knew exactly what the hell they were doing to him. 

The moment Yeosang and Seonghwa locked eyes again, the older of the two ex princes cried out in delight, arching his back as much as he could in Jongho’s strong grip, thick, sweet ropes of cum coating Yeosang’s throat. 

The smaller man let out a muffled moan, cumming messily onto the sheets below. Yeosang mewled, eyes fluttering momentarily as he swallowed each drop eagerly. It took a colossal effort for him to keep them open, but he wanted to drink in every expression on Seonghwa’s face. 

He slowly pulled off with a wet pop when he was sure Seonghwa had finished his first orgasm. 

The blonde sat there in a daze, panting with his legs spread wide by the shadows. Jongho kissed his shoulder, tracing patterns and symbols on his abs as he throbbed against the small of Seonghwa’s back. 

“Did that feel good? Your voice cracked for a moment.” He rumbled, leaving a biting kiss on the top of his shoulder. Seonghwa groaned and looked behind him. 

“You haven’t came yet. Don’t stop. Please,”

“We’re not done, Hwa. Far from it.”

While the two spoke and changed positions so Jongho could stretch him properly after getting lube, Yeosang felt a firm grip turn his head. 

He found himself staring deep into Whiro’s crimson eyes, and his breath caught for a moment. 

“Now, what’s a position fitting enough for the cute little cook that keeps all of us nice and fed mm?”

Yeosang shuddered and scanned his expression, lips parting before he closed them, shyness overtaking him. 

“Oh no no. You’re gonna tell me. Go on, tell me how you want it. I’ll do it, Yeosang.”

Yeosang would later reflect and curse himself at the way he’d gasped at Whiro calling his name. His eyes widened for a moment before he bit his lip and leaned close to his ear, shakily whispering to the god. 

In hindsight, he wasn’t sure why. The only one who couldn’t hear him would be Seonghwa. 

He was preoccupied with other matters, though, his cheeks going bright red when Whiro easily picked him up, setting him on top of Seonghwa with his knees at either side of Jongho’s hips.

The first thing both men realized with the new position was the temperature . 

Due to the nature of their powers, Seonghwa's skin and tongue always ran cold, while Yeosang was opposite of him. Both of them being chest to chest like this created an immediate back and forth between their body temperatures that made both of them writhe. 

Said writhing lead to both of their cocks rutting against one another. 

Both of them jolted again before Seonghwa reached out and grabbed Yeosang’s face, kissing him sloppily. Yeosang could tell he’d chilled his tongue on purpose and he responded in kind, raising the temperature of his own tongue slightly as he humped the older immortal. 

“Can’t have you forgettin’ about us, can we?” Whiro’s deep growling voice made Yeosang’s ear flick backwards, though he found himself unable to break the kiss. Instead, he subtly spread his knees wider, lifting his hips and raising his tails to present himself to the fractored deity. 

If the growl he was met with was anything to go by, his display was well appreciated. 

‘I’m going to fucking ruin him’ The god growled, still taking care to make sure he was properly lubricated. Jongho watched the two kiss on top of him and guided his own cock to Seonghwa’s prepped entrance, meeting Whiro’s gaze over both of their shoulders. 

There was a mutual understanding as they pushed into their respective princes at the same time. 

Yeosang groaned, nearly breaking the kiss if Seonghwa didn’t cup his cheeks, kissing him with renewed fervor as he clenched around Jongho’s cock. His eyes fluttered as each piercing rubbed against his rim before massaging along his walls once the ex gunner was fully settled inside. The kitsune rutting against him was equally delighted by the additional pleasure the piercings caused as Whiro’s cock mirrored Jongho’s, throbbing inside of Yeosang as he bit down on his ear again. 

“N-Ngh! S-Stop biting them, they’re sensitive-”

“That’s exactly why I’m gonna continue. Especially when you sound like that afterwards.” Whiro teased against the fur, grinding deep into him as he gripped the base of his tails. 

Yeosang’s eyes widened and he bucked, his cock drooling messily against Seonghwa’s as he swore in a different tongue. 

Jongho, on the other hand, reached around to hug Seonghwa’s midsection, keeping him from moving too much and possibly sliding his cock out. 

“You’re clenching me s-so tight. Mmm…fuck, I’m not going anywhere, Seonghwa, don’t worry. I’m right here.” He coaxed the ex prince into relaxing with his honeyed words, his hands roaming, calloused fingers mapping out Seonghwa’s body like it was the first time. 

Seonghwa finally broke the kiss, reaching behind Yeosang and fisting a handful of Whiro’s blonde locks, yanking him down roughly to kiss him as feverishly. 

Yeosang squirmed, effectively pinned between the god and the First Mate. His ears flicked, hearing every growl and groan directly beside his head as Seonghwa and Whiro bit and kissed at each other. 

“Y-Yeosangie~ Mmm-”

Jongho’s voice drew his attention and he looked down, finding the man had raised his chin, staring adoringly at him as he subtly puckered his lips. 

Yeosang didn’t hesitate, maneuvering around and eventually settling for pushing Seonghwa’s thighs up and folding him with his weight as he sought out Jongho’s lips.

Seonghwa’s moans rose an octave at the stretch, though his body was flexible enough to accommodate the new position, his heart pounding and his cock throbbing as he broke the kiss for air. 

Whiro growled, wrapping shadows around Seonghwa and Yeosang’s cocks, keeping them trapped together as he stroked them in time with his thrusts that began to steadily increase in speed until he was pounding the kitsune into the First Mate. 

“Yes! Yes yes please right there yES! ” Seonghwa had nearly began crying below them, his face screwed up in pleasure as different languages tumbled from his lips. Yeosang matched him, arching his back when he felt the shadows stroke them both faster. 

“L-Look at you two,” Jongho grit out, his grip on Seonghwa locking the taller man in place as he thrusted deeper and harder into him, searching for that sweet spot inside of him. 

“Pretty fuckin’ sight, yeah? Two pretty Princes moaning and makin’ a mess out of each other. And we get to see it from both sides~” Whiro’s voice was a deep, near feral purr as he tugged at the base of Yeosang’s tails, striking his prostate with one of his powerful thrusts. 

In an instant, Yeosang felt his vision go nearly white, arching his back sharply as a LOUD cry spilled from his lips, followed by him cumming all over himself, Seonghwa, and the shadows that kept their cocks together. 

Seonghwa’s eyes rolled, and he nearly arched and squirmed out of Jongho’s lap, had it not have been for the way the younger man tightened his grip, keeping him still as he rocked into him. 

“Don’t go anywhere, nn..right there, stay right there please please-”It wasn’t nearly as loud as the two (even three, Whiro was rather vocal with his growled out groans), but Jongho’s heated begging had shined through. Seonghwa’s hips bucked, thrusting against Yeosang’s as he clamped down on Jongho. 

“G-Give it to me, I’m here I won’t waste a drop c-cmon-” Seonghwa began babbling in his lust-drunk daze, grabbing Yeosang’s ass and keeping his cheeks spread for Whiro to see his own cock sliding in and out of the younger prince before he felt heat flood into him. 

Jongho bit down on his shoulder, eyes rolling as he came, the muscles in his thighs tensing as he felt it wash over him. 

Yeosang glanced down, watching the mess begin to coat Jongho’s cock. Whiro pressed against his back, the growl that left his lips vibrating through Yeosang’s very being as he chuckled. 

“Don’t worry, Foxy. I got somethin’ for you, too.”

Yeosang made the mistake of nearly questioning the got before he felt his prostate getting struck full force. He choked on his own breath for a moment, arching his back and crying out as Whiro looped his arms through Yeosang’s pulling them behind his back so he was arched and on display for Seonghwa and Jongho to see. 

Yeosang noticed this face and whimpered, his ass bouncing with every powerful thrust, unable to keep his eyes open as Whiro rocked up into him. 

“That’s it~ Mmm, such a pretty little fox for us, look at them, they’re practically drooling over themselves for ya~”

Yeosang still couldn’t open his eyes, drowning in the pleasure of each calculated thrust before he felt heat flood into him. His tails tensed, and he nearly passed out from the second sudden orgasm that slammed into him. 

It took a few moments…minutes…? For him to realize he had passed out momentarily from the pleasure. When he was able to focus again, he found Seonghwa was caressing his face lovingly, smiling at him. Yeosang stared up at him, panting as he cupped his hands over Seonghwa’s to keep him flush against him. 

“I love you.”

Seonghwa’s gaze softened and he leaned down to kiss him softly. 

“I love you too. Can you move or do you need a moment?”

Yeosang rose his head in confusion. 

“A moment?”

A slow, seductive smile crossed his face. 

“Darling, we’re not done.”

Downstairs, Yunho glanced up from his bowl, cheeks beet red. 

“Should I bring them some water…?” He muttered. Geb rumbled inside of him, considering making them some cucumber water or-

“We should let them have this time to themselves,” San spoke, washing his dishes. Wooyoung stood beside him drying them while Mingi ate quietly at Yunho’s side, eyes fixed on his plate, pushing around a piece of food. 

“You’re right.”/ ”We will need to see Seonghwa afterward, though. He may be convinced he will just power through, but I am concerned over the potency of the poison in his body.” 

The other three men in the room froze, eyes widening. 

“The what? ”

Upstairs, Seonghwa kissed the space between Yeosang’s shoulder blades as he held his hips, grinding deep into him at a near methodically slow pace. 

Jongho caressed the Kitsune’s face, his gaze soft and loving as he guided his head up and down his shaft, making sure he didn’t choke between his muffled moans. 

Whiro wasn’t too far off, claiming Seonghwa’s lips in a demanding kiss that made him lose his tempo several times before he’d reaffirmed his grip and continued. 

It had been…many moons since Seonghwa had been intimate with any of the loves of his life and Yeosang was quickly remembering that the taller prince was quite insatiable when he slipped into the waves of passion. 

Every mood was calculated, and every motion Seonghwa made when he was like this felt like a master chess move. 

He knew all of their limits and stamina, knew who could match his energy, who could surpass it, who may fall behind. Everything he did, it was to maximize their time together and leave them satisfied and honestly? Craving more. 

“Where is your mind, my love?” the chill of his breath fanned over Yeosang’s ear and he bucked, swallowing around Jongho in surprise. When had he and Whiro stopped kissing?

 Seonghwa chuckled, cold fingers roaming his body. 

“I can feel you tightening up, why don’t you let go for me? For us? We got you.” 

Yeosang had half a mind to remind the blonde that they were supposed to be doting on him , but all that came out was a pathetic whimper in need as he once again fell apart, sending a pleading look at Jongho that made him follow suit. 

Yeosang would be flustered to admit later that he’d lost track of how many different positions they’d shifted in and moved to before all three (or, rather, four) of them were satiated enough to collapse in a pile in the center of the bed. 

Yeosang panted, his hair unkempt, and bites covering his body. As he turned his ruby-eyed gaze to Seonghwa, he smiled, finding the man had actually been properly tired out and also was covered in the same bites (and scratches). 

Jongho ran a hand through his hair, looking at the two ex princes with a gentle look. He didn’t verbalize what was on his mind but Yeosang noticed the serious settle in his features as he idly ran his hand through both of their hair. 

Whiro returned to his skin, only after placing surprisingly tender kisses to each of them and holding a stare with them that was rife with words unsaid before he settled along their ex gunner’s skin. 

I love you

They knew the words well, even if the god hadn’t uttered it. It was in his eyes, it was in Jongho’s eyes as he continued to stare at them before he rolled his neck. 

“I should get Yunho and Geb in here. Have them get that poison out of your system.” He looked like he didn’t actually want to get up but he still did, stopping only when Seonghwa reached out to him. 

“Please….have him leave the marks be.” 

Jongho’s lips quirked for a moment. 

“I wouldn’t dream of telling him to get rid of them. If they’re healed in the process, We’ll just have to give you some more of them.” 

Seonghwa blushed before letting him go, closing his eyes and letting his eyes close. 

“Very well. Thank you.”

He left the two prince’s in the room to fetch the doctor. Yeosang gently rolled over, running his hand through Seonghwa’s damp hair and watching as he took a moment to open his eyes again, exhaustion clear on his features now that he wasn’t putting on the front of ‘everything being fine.’

“...I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to…be helpful. To try and walk beside you instead of behind you.”

Seonghwa’s tired expression began to sharpen, and he lifted his head. 

“Yeosang-”

“I won’t be walking behind any of you anymore. I swear.” Yeosang laced their fingers together and gave his hand a squeeze. 

“Standing on the sidelines being passive is everything I hated one of my sisters for. I…have done no better than her in that right. I will work harder to never, ever be that man again. So…let me take some of the burden, okay?” He gently caressed his knuckles. 

Seonghwa’s gaze softened, brows pulling up. 

“That goes the same for us.”

Seonghwa turned his gaze to the doorway, finding Yunho walking in quickly with Jongho in tow. Seonghwa moved to push himself out of bed, but Yunho placed his hand on his chest and pushed him back down, shaking his head. 

“Stay there. We’ll get the poison out of your system and heal the wounds your body has been trying to close.”

Seonghwa laid back down, watching as Yunho took a pair of bandage scissors to the wraps around his midsection, narrowing his gaze at the wounds. 

There was an unfamiliar noise that left the man’s lips has he stared at the wounds. He summoned a gerbera daisy and let it over over the wounds, his eyes trained on each one as the magic coming from the flower drew the poison out of each gash. 

They all watched as droplets of purple absorbed into the petals of the daisy. 

“It’s a poison that continues attacking. It’s no wonder your healing is slowed. It’s trying to attack even us through the flower.” Geb rumbled, looking over a the wilting petals of the daisy with a narrowed gaze. Seonghwa’s brows rose in surprise before he looked away from him the moment both the earth god and Yunho fixed im with a stern gaze. 

“When we find out who poisoned you-”

“That won’t be necessary, puppy. Truly.”

Yunho looked unsatisfied, lips pressed into a fine line as he stared at Seonghwa, drawing the last of the poison out and setting the daisy aside. 

He cupped Seonghwa’s cheeks and sighed, pressing their foreheads together. 

“You’re still doing things all on your own, you know.”

He lightly scolded him, though nothing but concern shone in his eyes for the blonde before him. Seonghwa stared back at him, his thumbs gently rubbing patterns in the blanket below him. He wouldn’t bother wasting his breath denying it, especially when they all knew it was true. 

Yunho heard Geb rumble in concern inside of his head and he sighed softly, pulling away from the blonde. 

“Seonghwa, I owe you an apology.”

Seonghwa’s brows furrowed. 

“Seriously, you all do not need to keep apologizing-”

“I told you you weren’t working hard enough and suddenly you’re out here doing reckless things, getting hurt all alone , keeping yourself awake for ungodly hours of time, all in the sake of ‘trying harder’, aren’t you? Is that not a direct result of me unfairly forcing my own inadequacies on you instead of acknowledging we all failed and we all need to try harder? Be better? I fucked up, and I’m sorry.” he pressed a kiss to Seonghwa’s head before pulling away, rubbing his thumbs over the man’s cheeks.

“We can…sit down and hash it all out a bit later. For now, you need rest. Between the poison and….your activities this morning, I imagine you’re exhausted, right?”

Seonghwa flexed his fingers, looking at his compass mark for a moment before he nodded, laying down and pressing his cheek to the pillow. 

“Then…if its all the same to you…I’ll rest a bit more. If you need me, please wake me.” He muttered, letting the threads of exhaustion and sleep finally lace into a net, pulling him into sleep not too longer after Yunho nodded at him with a tender smile. 

Once he was sure Seonghwa was asleep, his smile fell and he turned to the others. 

Yeosang looked equally exhausted, but he perked when he saw the frown cross his lover’s face. Jongho was alert and standing not too far off from the bed, a pair of sweatpants settled loose on his hips as he watched the three of them. 

“You all can rest. I…I’ll work on a plan-”

“Nah. How about we wait until we’re all up and about and make a proper plan of action this time?” Jongho and Whiro cut him off bluntly, finger tapping against one of Jongho’s biceps after he crossed his arms. 

Yunho paused for a moment before he looked down at the exhausted blonde sleeping soundly, his brow occasionally twitching every now and again. 

“....Yeah. Actually, that sounds like a better plan. I’ll leave you two to rest, as well. Do either of you want any food?” 

While the three of them chattered, San made his way down the hall in the opposite direction, slipping into Seonghwa’s room and glancing around. 

He probably should wait until the blonde was up and about to do all of this, but San knew the ex prince well enough to know they would continue to dance around everything if he did so. 

San tried not to make it a habit to revert back to his old behaviors from centuries ago when his street smarts and quick hands could get him into whatever locked box or door he needed them to.

Tried to , did not mean he was above doing so. 

San scanned the room carefully before he found a box with a few papers sticking out from it. He made his way over to it, scanning the contents inside before humming and grabbing the papers, laying them out and reading through them. 

His lips pressed into a fine line the more he read before his eyes widened. 

He glanced behind him at the door as if he could peer through it before having a seat at Seonghwa’s desk, reading everything with increasing amounts of worry settling in his being. 

Outside, Mingi passed by the First Mate’s door, casting a sidelong stare at it. Cheese perked, sniffing once, twice, before wagging his tail, seemingly unbothered. 

Mingi, however, stared at the handle for a long time before he let out the smallest scoff and continued his way down the hall. 

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2:30 pm

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“Can…I ask your advice on something?” 

Miyavi looked up, stopping mid guitar pluck to look at Hongjoong as he stood in the doorway to his and his wife’s room. 

He sat up in an instant, setting the guitar aside and nodding. 

“Of course, little one. C’mere. What’s up?”

Hongjoong plopped down across the foot of the bed, his legs dangling over the edge as he stared at the ceiling. Miyavi looked at him curiously, waiting for his son to gather his thoughts. 

“I…I’m confused.”

“Okay, about what?” 

Hongjoong paused again, worrying his lip between his teeth. He wanted to blurt out to his father that he’d been having dreams that feel like memories, about the fact that he’d seen at least two men with some form of supernatural powers, gods are real and one of them is inside of his boyfriend and-

-instead, something else tumbled from his lips. 

“I only just started dating Yunho but I also feel an attraction towards some of the others.”

Miyavi blinked. Hongjoong blinked. 

It took everything in him not to facepalm. 

“...It must be overwhelming, yeah? All of these new emotions so suddenly.”

Miyavi hummed quietly, reaching over to ruffle his son’s two toned hair. Hongjoong let him, nodding quietly. 

“I…don’t know what to do…”

“What does your heart want?”

“Yunho’s the only boyfriend…the only partner I’ve ever had. I can’t just go ‘hey, we’ve been dating for about a week but your boyfriends look fine too’, y’know? That’s just…”

Miyavi laughed, smiling down at his son and tilting his head. 

“So be honest with Yunho, but also take your time. You know where your heart is tugging you, but you’ve got a good enough head on your shoulders to know that Rome wasn’t built in a day. It takes time. But the first step is to make sure you’re clear and on equal footing and understanding. Misunderstandings and secrets are the downfall to any relationship.” He pressed his index finger lightly to Hongjoong’s forehead until the younger musician met his gaze, nodding with a small sigh.

“You’re right…”

“Yunho looks like an approachable man, just be honest with him and reassure him your gaze isn’t wandering…it’s simply…mm…expanding? Yes, that makes sense.” He chuckled having paused to find the words for his analogy.

Hongjoong laughed lightly before he looked at him. 

“You….don’t think it’s weird?”

“Polyamory? Not at all. I just care first and foremost that you are safe and happy . You’re my son, I’d give my world to make sure you and your siblings are smiling and happy. I’ll be with you every step of the way to make sure that happens.” He smiled and watched as Hongjoong sat up, fixing his hair before a bit of the tension he was holding in his body was lessened. 

“I….I have more I’d like to talk about but I….don’t know how to word it yet. It kind of makes my head hurt when I think about it.” Hongjoong rubbed his neck. 

It wasn’t a complete lie, but still. 

Miyavi watched him silently. He had a good hunch on what it was, but that would be a far more treacherous conversation to wade into than relationship advice on rekindled feelings. 

“Whenever you’re ready, your mother and I are here to listen. Just let us know.” Miyavi stood and rolled his shoulder before setting his guitar back in its case. 

“C’mon, let’s head out for a walk, it’s a beautiful day out.”

Hongjoong glanced outside, blinking in surprise at the sunshine that had begun to peek through the clouds. He could’ve sworn the forecast said it was supposed to be overcast all day. He stood and nodded, smiling at his father as they made their way to the door. 

“Let me get my shoes, then!” Hongjoong darted out and Miyavi laughed, sticking his hands in his pockets. 

“Slow down, we have time.”

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April 3rd

5:30am

-218 Days Remain-

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Seonghwa sat up, rubbing his neck and sighing. Today was the day. The scent of cinnamon off to his left nearly distracted him from his thoughts.

He had to go train with Jaemin and see if he could come up with a method to-

“Oh, good, you’re awake.” 

Seonghwa’s eyes snapped to the corner of the room, landing on San as he smiled from ear to ear, his eyes crescents. 

“San…?”

“Good morning, handsome. Slept well?” 

Seonghwa’s brows furrowed as he looked to the man sitting at his desk, a bright smile on his face. 

“What…?”

San held up the papers, head tilting. 

“Planning to go train all on your lonesome today, hm? Do you even know what today is?” He inquired. Seonghwa’s lips pressed together, racking his brain. 

It didn’t bother him that the younger man had gone through his papers nearly as much as it did that he had missed something important. 

April, it was April, he’d been in his own head so much, had he missed someone’s anniversary or-

“CHEESE CANNOT WAIT ANY LONGER. HAPPY BIRTHDAY CAPTIAN PRINCE SEONGHWA MASTER SIR!!!!! CHEESE HAS COME WITH GIFTS!”

Seonghwa had a sense of dejavu as Cheese threw himself onto his bed once more, landing on his chest. A muffled groan came from his left and Seonghwa finally clued in to the others in the room. 

Yeosang was beside him, ears twitching as he rubbed his eye. The groan came from his left, as Yunho lifted his head, squinting into the room at the excited dog. 

“Cheese, its so early….”

“Why is everyone in my room?” Seonghwa inquired, sitting up more and spotting Wooyoung curled up in Yeosang’s arms, still asleep. 

“To make sure you don’t try and do something silly like go off fighting whoever it is you’re fighting on your birthday .” San set the papers down and sighed, leaning on the table.

“I’m sorry for snooping, but I don’t…like seeing you with these dark circles and slumping from exhaustion. You’re…working really hard, aren’t you? At least for a day, let’s all take some time and decompress. We can talk about your findings and train together, I’m still pissed I got my ass kicked so easily…but above all else, we need to do better to take care of each other.” He tapped his finger against the table and smiled at Seonghwa. 

“So, will you join us for the totally not at all planned birthday celebration?” 

Seonghwa laughed softly, petting Cheese and nodded. 

“Where’s Jongho and…?”He trailed off, leaving the tail end of his inquiry open ended. San’s smile faltered slightly, brow ticking in subtle annoyance before the look cleared up. 

Seonghwa caught it.

Ah, Mingi probably didn’t want to share a room with them, so Jongho stayed with him so he wouldn’t be alone.

He sighed, shoulders dropping before he was immediately distracted by Cheese thrusting his snout in his face.

“CHEESE HAS TRAVELED OVERNIGHT TO GET THIS.”  

Seonghwa tilted his head and watched as Cheese nudged his palm open. Once Seonghwa obliged him, he dropped a spear-tip shaped piece of ice into it, tail wagging. 

The ex prince cocked his head, looking at it in wonder. 

“There’s some kind of…power surging through this. What is this, Cheese?”

“CHEESE TOOK A TRIP TO THE LAND OF FROST GIANTS AND ASKED LADY SKADI IF CHEESE MAY HAVE SOME ICE! Cheese is friends with Kaldr so she said yes. She is a very nice lady.”

“I’m sorry, did you say the land of the frost gi-”

“ HAPPY BIRTHDAY!”

Seonghwa stared at the dog, aghast. He really needed to keep track of him when he went running off. In the meantime, he looked down at the shard, rolling it around in his palm. 

“....thank you, Cheese. You’re a very good boy.”

Cheese’s tail stopped wagging in an instant and he stared at Seonghwa for a while before pressing his head to Seonghwa’s. 

“Cheese…is not the smartest Cheese, but Cheese loves his masters very much and will do anything to make them happy. Happy birthday!”

Seonghwa laughed softly and made room for the dog to lie down on his chest. 

“Fine…if you insist, I’ll take the day off. We should sleep in.” He nuzzled the canine and San smiled, moving to lie beside Yunho. 

“That’s a lot more like it.”

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    10:30am

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“You look handsome.”

Seonghwa smiled softly, looking at himself in the mirror. Yunho, San, and Wooyoung had bought him a new outfit. 

Wooyoung adjusted the black turtleneck on the taller man, brushing his fingertips over Seonghwa’s jawline. There was a matching black thigh-length pea coat that was left open. His pants were form fitting-also black-, with shimmering chains dangling from his belt hoops and pockets. 

“You look like a model.” San nodded in approval and Yunho held his hand out, creating an ice blue flower to tuck into his chest pocket. 

Seonghwa smoothed his hands over the clothing, smiling. San had styled his hair, brushing his bangs out of his face before smiling and pointing to the seat. 

“Yeosang said he’d do your makeup, then we can get going.”

The blonde would be lying if he said it didn’t feel good, to be doted on by everyone. It reminded him of when he was a prince, the days he’d spend seated on a cushion between his mother’s legs as she gently combed and brushed his hair. 

“Mon bebe, such beautiful hair. Not a knot in sight. One day, you won’t need your mother to brush your hair.”

“No, Mother, I will always want you to…it feels nice and you always have this pretty smile when you do.”

Seonghwa felt himself tearing up, startled as Yeosang paused with a brush hovering over his cheek. 

“S-Seonghwa…?” He frowned, leaning away from him. Seonghwa blinked before straightening up. 

“Apologies. I was…thinking of my mother.” He smiled and sat down, pulling Yeosang into his lap. 

“I will sit still, continue.”

Yeosang straddled him, wiping his tears and carefully doing his makeup. He’d learned a lot in the time they’d spent with Hongjoong and his friends. 

Honestly, he was surprised Seonghwa agreed to let him do this for him. The older immortal held his hips and sat in silence, his eyes trained on Yeosang. 

“It's truly amazing.” 

Yeosang blinked down at him. 

“What is?”

“It’s been centuries, and my heart still flutters when I’m this close to you all.” He reached up and caressed Yeosang’s cheek with the back of his knuckles. 

“No matter how many moons have came and went, I still love the seven of you with my whole heart.”

Yeosang bit his lip, feeling his eyes get misty before he stole a kiss from Seonghwa. 

“D-Don’t make me cry, dammit. I’m trying to dote on you.”

Seonghwa chuckled and nodded, not saying much else as he stared at the kitsune.

When they were finished, Seonghwa walked downstairs, looking around subconsciously, counting the heads. 

He paused, eyes landing on Mingi, and he perked.

“Are you coming?”

Mingi cast a glance at San, arms crossed. San stared back, cocking a single brow at him.

‘Someone wouldn’t leave me alone until I did’./ “Yes. It is your birthday.” He answered, rubbing his ear and toying with the strap to his satchel.

Seonghwa fought back the way his smile nearly faltered from his face. Everything in his body language screamed that he didn’t really want to go out. 

He took a breath and pushed down any of those emotions and walked up to Mingi. 

“I appreciate you getting dressed. I…know you’re not very fond of me anymore, if you don’t want to come out, it’s alright. We can…reschedule? Or maybe I can break the day up so you’re not left alone?”

San bristled behind him and Jongho frowned, pushing himself off of the wall he’d been leaning against. 

“Hold on-”

“I’m not going to force him to come. I know Mingi has been hurt the most by me in these years, he has every right to not come with me.” Seonghwa spoke firmly, glancing at the others one by one before looking back to Mingi. 

Mingi held his gaze for a long while before sighing softly and rubbing his neck. He felt the gaze of everyone land on him and it immediately made him feel ill.

“I’m going. I…don’t have a gift for you, though. I’m sorry.”

Seonghwa’s smile softened. 

“Are you sure? I will not take offense if you don’t want to?”

“Staying cooped up in the house isn’t going to help me get out of my own head, either.” 

Seonghwa smiled wider, gently touching the back of Mingi’s hand for a brief moment. Mingi didn’t pull his hand away and Seonghwa took it as a small victory, turning to the others. 

“Alright, gentlemen, where are we going?”

Yunho placed his hand at the small of Mingi’s back, making sure he was truly alright before smiling at Seonghwa. 

“Let’s get in the car. We got an idea from Hongjoong and the others.”

One by one, the men walked out of the home with Cheese faithfully trotting beside them. 

San followed Mingi with his eyes, pressing his lips together in a frown before taking his place at Wooyoung’s side as they piled into the car.

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12:30 pm

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“Woo~ Well hello handsome~” Yeonjun whistled, their hands on their hips as the group of immortals walked up to their human friends. 

Seonghwa bowed in greeting, smiling at the others. 

“Oh, are you all going to enjoy this day with me?” 

“Of course, you’re our friend now!” Moa beamed, handing him a wrapped gift. 

“What is this?” He inquired. She smiled and put her hands on her hips. 

“It's a set of earrings! We all pooled together and had them made for you in a jiffy!” 

He opened the box, surprised by the green stones. He took a close look at the pattern in the snowflake-shaped stones and blinked in surprise.

They looked like feathers.

“It's a seraphinite stone. They bring out the color in your eyes.” Chungha told him, rocking on the balls of her feet. Seonghwa’s eyes softened as he put the earrings in. 

“Snowflakes, eh?” He smiled. 

“I suggested it.”

Seonghwa turned his attention towards the back of the group, watching as Hongjoong came up to him. His heart squeezed and he looked down as Hongjoong stopped in front of him. 

“Snowflakes. And why did you choose that shape?”

Hongjoong scratched his cheek, his free hand barely hiding a different bag from you. 

“Something about you just…reminds me of the night of a fresh snow. It’s cold, and for some people, it appears to not be very welcoming but it's actually one of the most beautiful gifts nature gives us. Ah, sorry, that sounds really cheesy-” He went beet red and handed him the bag, his ears burning in embarrassment. 

Seonghwa blushed, as well, looking down at the bag. 

Inside, bold red letters stared at him. 

“What is a…’Lego’?”

Chan looked at Hongjoong in confusion. 

“You got him a Lego set?”

Hongjoong blushed as Seonghwa pulled out one of two boxes. 

“I got him two, actually.”

Seonghwa stared at the first set. There were over 300 pieces to the set and a bunch of small little…animal mascots?? on it.

“This is…cute? I never expected something like this as a gift. Do I just assemble-”He choked on his own words as he looked at the second box.

Seonghwa’s hand shook subtly as he picked it up, staring at the second large Lego set. 

It was a pirate ship. 

“It…felt right. Sorry if its childish.” Hongjoong muttered. Seonghwa bit the inside of his cheek, his lips trembling as memories hit him like a brick. 

-”This ship is my pride an’ joy, Hwa. Everyone aboard it is essential to her smooth sailin’. Tha’s why a good Captian needs to take care of his crew like he does his ship.” 

Seonghwa rolled his eyes, listening to the short Captain once again boast about his ship to him. 

Seonghwa’s kingdom had more impressive ships, that much was for sure. He also found it interesting, a ship being ran by women fleeing their lives in lieu of one on the great blue sea. 

One misstep and they’d all be hunted down and destroyed, but oddly enough, Seonghwa had never seen a happier bunch. 

“Putois, you don’t need to sell me on this ship. I’ve already agreed to sail with you on it. I wouldn’t still be on it if I thought it would fall apart.”

Hongjoong laughed and leaned over the rail, the wind blowing his bangs wildly.

“Maybe, but I’ll keep singin’ her praises until you love her, Seonghwa.”

The blonde stared at him for a long time before coming to his side, arms brushing as he leaned against the rail.

“....I suppose she is quite beautiful, Captain.”-

Hongjoong let out a noise of surprise as Seonghwa pulled him into a strong hug, tucking his face into the crook of his neck. 

“It makes me very happy to know you got me gifts despite knowing me for such a short period of time. I will cherish them for the rest of my life.”

Yeonjun pouted from behind them and Changkyun cleared his throat. 

“We should go inside. We have a lot to see.”

Seonghwa looked up at the art museum and smiled. 

“Let’s go. Its been quite a while since I’ve been to a museum.” 

“We found one that will allow Cheese, too. Are you excited, little dude?” Felix inquired, petting Cheese. Cheese wagged his tail, walking directly beside Seonghwa, ears perked and alert. 

“THIS PLEASES CHEESE GREATLY, HUMAN.”

The boys bit back their laughs at the energetic hound and walked inside. 

Seonghwa found himself enjoying the pieces between scanning the crowd, making sure he had laid eyes on all of his loves and their friends. 

“You’re supposed to be enjoying yourself.” Wooyoung’s soft voice drew his attention as he stopped beside him, looking at a set of blown glass animals. Seonghwa looked down at it, humming. 

“I can’t help it. No matter where I go, I find myself looking for the seven of you.” He answered honestly. Wooyoung glanced over at him, gently taking Seonghwa’s free hand, rubbing his thumb over his knuckles. 

“There’s always been something so…inspiring about the way you say things, Seonghwa.” He rocked on the balls of his feet, guiding Seonghwa and Cheese to the next painting. The three of them looked at the goofy art, with the card beside it explaining that it was made by the art director’s pet cat running across their paint and then the canvas. 

“There have been plenty of times, especially as of late, where I find myself at a loss for words or lacking the proper ones to say.” Seonghwa spoke honestly but Wooyoung shook his head once. 

“You still have this…unwavering determination I’m honestly jealous of. It takes me so long to get the words out for things I want to say and by time I’ve gathered the heart to do so, the words get caught in my throat.” 

Seonghwa put his arm around Wooyoung’s shoulders, pulling him closer. 

“If its about not speaking up when Mingi and I would argue, do know I do not hold it against you, or anyone. My behavior, the cause and effect they have created, are my own fault and its no one else’s fault but mine. If there’s anything our Captain has instilled in me, it’s an unwavering, bullheaded and sometimes idiotic determination to charge forward towards what you believe in.” Seonghwa ran his cool fingers over Wooyoung’s shoulder, putting his head above his. 

“Even if it hurts, even if I get tired, I won’t ever give up. You all are worth fighting for, and come Hell or high water, I’ll repair what was lost.”

Wooyoung looked up at him, lips parted, before he closed his mouth, standing on his tip toes to press a small kiss to the corner of Seonghwa’s lips. 

“I…have a lot to learn from you all. But I’ll get the courage and get on the same level as you one day.”

Seonghwa chuckled and guided him to the next one.

At some point, Hongjoong beckoned them over, pointing to a painting of a large wolf in a snow storm that was made entirely of different shades of blue.

Yeonjun stared at the painting in delight, chattering about different painting techniques to Chungha. Seonghwa stopped beside them, the art reminding him of the painting he had made for his beloved all those centuries ago.

“This one grabbed my interest,” Hongjoong explained, looking up at it with a gentle smile. Cheese carefully approached, nuzzling Hongjoong’s hand and wagging his tail when the pianist gently gave his head a pet. 

Seonghwa took in the brush strokes, staring into the eyes of the wolf for a long time before he nodded. 

“It is quite eye-catching, isn’t it? I wonder what kind of story it has to tell.”

“Cheese thinks Cheese is a more handsome doggo than the painting doggo. Though Cheese wonders if the blue doggo has blue toe beans.”

Seonghwa snorted quietly, looking down at the dog incredulously. Yeonjun perked, tilting their head. 

“Your dog is very chatty today. Isn’t that right?” They grinned, bending to pet Cheese. To them, it simply appeared to be gruff dog babbel. Cheese’s tail wagged and he licked Yeonjun’s face. 

“You have no idea! Cheese can talk faster than any doggo!”

Seonghwa smiled fondly at them before noticing Hongjoong’s hands, slightly wringing the bottom of his jacket as he stared at the painting. 

“Hm…would you like to go on a walk with me, Hongjoong? I’m a bit famished.” Seonghwa offered. 

Hongjoong perked and nodded, smiling. 

“Have you not eaten yet? C’mon, there’s a food court around here somewhere.” He looked towards Wooyoung and Yeonjun, but the former waved a hand kindly. 

“Go, go. I’ll bring Cheese over to the others so he can keep looking at exhibits.” He beamed. Yeonjun arched a brow at their friend, but Wooyoung hooked an arm under their arm, dragging them off before they could say a word. 

Seonghwa watched the trio go before turning his attention back to Hongjoong. 

“I’ll follow your lead.” 

Hongjoong walked through the art exhibit, only a few paces in front of Seonghwa. He slowed after a minute or two, rubbing his neck. 

“I…want to ask you something.”

“I figured you wanted to speak with me. What is it?” 

Hongjoong stopped, reaching and touching Seonghwa’s wrist over the compass mark he knew was there. 

“I…know you all, don’t I? Somehow…and you all know me.”

Seonghwa could see the frustration settle in his brow, and he knew the smaller man had probably been having the beginning pulses of a migraine. Seonghwa hummed, flipping his hand and taking Hongjoong’s. 

“I am learning a lot about you, yes. It’s very pleasant.” 

Hongjoong looked at him in confusion, staring at their hands. 

“But…That’s not what I mean. Not ‘me’ but-”

“It doesn’t matter much to me if I knew you before or if I’ve just met you now. My feelings are the same.” 

The two toned man’s eyes widened, staring at him in surprise as Seonghwa chuckled and brought his hand up to his cold cheek. 

“It’s my birthday, yes? May I be selfish and ask to enjoy this time with you without stress and worry? Even if its only for the day, whatever hard conversations may come, they can come on another.”

Hongjoong cleared his throat, feeling flustered as he moved his hand. 

“I’m going to get flustered if you talk like that.”

“Is it the worst thing if you do?” Seonghwa laughed gently and moved to the vendors selling food. Hongjoong watched him before he snapped back to reality and shuffled after him quickly. 

The two sat together, quietly people-watching as they ate some rather generously sized crepes. Hongjoong’s eyes were fixed on Seonghwa’s side profile more than the people around him, though. 

He really did look like a prince. His face was all sharp angles, yet they had a…soft quality to them that had the musician idly thinking he’d be a great idol.

“Did you do your makeup today?” He spoke without thinking and Seonghwa cut his steel gaze at him, humming as he licked creme from his lips. 

Hongjoong would admit to no one that he followed the motion like a hawk before looking back into his eyes. 

“Yeosang did. He’s learned a lot from Chungha, it seems. He was happy to try it on me so I let him. I’m not displeased.” 

“You look… really good.” 

Seonghwa chuckled and took another bite of his crepe, chewing thoughtfully. Hongjoong felt embarrassment creep into him once more. He’d asked Seonghwa to come with him, but now he was at a loss as to how to proceed now that Seonghwa had gently steered him away from prying on this whole…memory business.

Instead, he shoved a bite much too big to be considered polite into his mouth to keep himself from blurting out anything else in embarrassment. 

Seonghwa stared at him before he covered his mouth to keep himself from possibly spitting out any food as he laughed. 

“Dun lauf at meh!” Hongjoong struggled, cheeks round as his face went beet red. Seonghwa laughed harder still, joy shining in his eyes as he looked at the goofy two toned man in front of him. 

“Ah, apologies apologies. You just…you look very cute.” He smiled, one that reached his eyes as he put his head in his palm, staring at Hongjoong in a way that certainly didn’t help his flustered demeanor.  Seonghwa took in his appearance, cheeks rounded and his mismatched hair falling over his forehead as he tried to avoid his gaze.

"Küçük çizgili sincap~” 

Hongjoong blinked in confusion, swallowing his food before he squinted. He had recognized when Seonghwa had called him a small ferret before, but whatever he had said a moment ago went right over his head. 

“What did you say just now?” 

“Oh, nothing.” Seonghwa stood, a triumphant smile on his face as he turned away from him. 

“Shall we head back, küçük çizgili sincap ?”

“What are you calling me? Hey! Park Seonghwa-ya, wipe that smile off your face, what did you call me?!” Hongjoong complained, following close behind the blonde as he walked away. Seonghwa smiled, glancing at him out of the corner of his eye. 

“Oh, just something just for you.”

“What does that mean? Seonghwa? Hey, don’t speed up your paces! God, why are your legs so long- Seonghwa!!”

✣✤✣✤✣✤✣✤♖✣✤✣✤✣✤✣✤✣

Meanwhile…..

✣✤✣✤✣✤✣✤♖✣✤✣✤✣✤✣✤✣

“THAT ASSHOLE FORGOT ABOUT OUR ARRANGEMENT!”

Jeno watched as Jaemin cursed and swore up a storm, referring to the blonde ex prince. He glanced at Renjun and the man waved a hand, indicating he’d pay Jaemin’s ire no mind. 

“I’m sure there’s a good reason. Take the time to prepare.”

“I’m gonna wring their damn necks, wasting my damn time!”

Renjun rolled his eyes. 

“You’re the god of it. Just make more time.”

“Easy for you to say!”

✣✤✣✤✣✤✣✤♖✣✤✣✤✣✤✣✤

Taglist----

-----

@jacksons-goddess-gaia @kimnamshiks @atiny-dazzlinglight @angel0taiyo @gettin-a-lil-hanse @aeyla @eversionic @itsatinyworld @unatempesta-dipensieri @lonely10vely @yunhosblackgf @not-majestic-bluenicorn @moonmin-miya @snowstaytiny @delphinium3000 @just-a-starfruit @skmoonchild @allthestarsrcloser @im-what-iam @stayatinyfics @smallfrye @atinyteez @bangteezbaby @seomisaho @kirisimpma @chaos-ground-writing @daniblogs164 @yunhofingers @stormiestories @billboard-singer @asyamonet22 @perfectlysane24 @drunk-on-hwa @shingisimp @xuxibelle @twistedsiren @heesuncore @dreamyinception-world @justatiredhuman @serialee @eribear23 @spooo00oky @shymexican @stardragongalaxy @horizonmoonfics @ateezswonderland

[lindseymcdonaldseyelashes]

The Librarians 2x7 - "And the Image of Image"

[instruth]

The Journeys Of Perseverance

(11th in the Celestial Series … to be continued)

He walks—he perseveres, distinguished

—through rocky terrains, tough winding

paths, crossing deserts dry, stormy seas

A voice, crying in the wilderness, alone

A messenger, often rejected—a forerunner.

Always present when needed, pointing out

leading, guiding the pilgrims and travelers,

suffers shipwrecks, beaten, kicked, stoned

Yes! But he always gets up, he pursues his

cause, his duty, his calling and his mission.

On earth, his name is John, the other self

—a human he protects, his counterpart

Together they travel, John & Perseverance

Knighted in Heaven, “Your name is written

—you are a citizen of my kingdom. Listen.”

“Rejoice not you have power over demons

Rejoice rather, your name is written here.”

Perseverance was thus sent to John—his initials imprinted in all his books: J. P. Lee

“Go! Walk safely, my Walking Tabernacle.“

heaven’s stair ascends

through trials, faith, and daily prayers

guiding lost children

©Johnny J P Lee

22 April 2025

HAIBUN: Gogyoshiren20 + Haiku 5-7-5

Photos Credit, Unsplash Images

—————————————————————-

Notes:

(References on pictures posted: Jacob’s Dream; Walking Tabernacle is merely symbolic to represent something divine. “Do not rejoice that you have power over the demons; Rejoice rather that your name is written in heaven” is biblically accurate)

[casual-tarot]

Closure on Your Situation

A song to listen to during this reading: Jacob and the Stone by Emile Mosseri

Pile 1

I'm hearing "burning briges." I think there's someone that was once very important to you that you're cutting out of your life. Spirit is telling me that this had to happen, it was an inevitable change that was always going to be part of your journey. It's an ending that was always going to come, that was necessary, and that's ok. Good things will be coming.

Maybe that's what you needed to here, that this time in your life, as heartbreaking as it is, is making room for something new, better, to come in. Maybe you'll get a new job offer, or a raise/promotion, maybe you will meet someone new. No matter your situation, something good is coming, and you should be excited.

This person that you cut out from your life likely didn't have the best intentions, or maybe they just weren't right for this part of your journey. They needed to leave to make room for new things, or so universe could teach you some sort of lesson. Not in a malicious sort of way, I myself lost a friend recently, and I realized it was spirit's way of telling me that I needed to set firmer boundaries, which would in turn lead something new into my life(we share similar stories, maybe you needed hear mine, and thats why I was called to tell you.)

Either way pile 1, keep strong! Keep going! It's going to get better, bright things are on the horizon, remember that. You're likely still learning spirits lesson right now, if you need more clarification I recommend looking into other readings. Whatever it is, spirit is proud of you because you're growing! I hope this helped.

Confirmation and signs: taurus, Gemini, Neptune, trident, Virgo, Leo, water, fire, water and fire together(complimentary and opposed), opposites, opposing sides, north node, moon, 1, 11, 111, 1111, 7, 77, 777, 8, 88, 3, 33, 6

(Note: I completely forgot what image pile 1 was when doing this reading, so it makes even more sense now lol.)

Pile 2

I'm getting the vibe that you're leaving something behind, and that it's scaring you. Maybe you've decided to leave a job or a partner or maybe you've decided to move. No matter what it is, I think the thing scaring you is that the people in your life won't approve. Whatever you're leaving is likely "safe" in the sense that yes its easy, but it doesn't make you happy. Maybe you yourself are doubting your choices because of that same reason. Safe doesn't always mean good. Now I'm not saying to go and do anything too drastic, but sometimes being impulsive can be a good thing.

For example I have a friend that decided to leave our hometown and go live a couple cities over, even though her friends and family all mostly live over here. She seems happier then ever with her decision, and free. And we still get to see her whenever shes free(if thats something you're worried about, leaving your loved ones behind). Another, smaller example is that I had impulsively decided to cut my hair, despite knowing my old haircut made me look "prettier" and knowing I'd have to deal with my families reactions. I don't regret it, I love my hair now, it finally makes me feel comfortable in my own skin.

Excuse the rambling lol, I just felt called to tell you that, maybe you needed proof that it's all going to be ok. You need to do what makes you happy, not anybody else. You're the one who has to live with it after all. I choose the thing that makes you smile. I hope you get to be happy and confident in your choices like we were, pile 2. I'm rooting for you.

Confirmation and signs: losing or leaving a job, 111, Taurus, Virgo, Capricorn, Leo, Aries, Sagittarius, 333, 666, 888, 777, earth, pentacles, money, finances, financial gain or loss, fire, creativity, passion, wands, venus, Fertility, femininity, accepting yourself, confidence, venus in furs, loving yourself, sensuality, sexuality, Pluto, rebirth, transformation, coming into your own, caterpillar-cocoon-butterfly, change, the moons, Cresent moon, first quarter moon, taking action, controlling your own destiny/fate

(Note: While editing this, I realized I referred to you as pile 3 a couple times, maybe you felt drawn to that pile as well! Go check it out if you feel called to.)

Pile 3

(It's 11:11 as I write this)

You seem to be feeling extremely guilty about something, maybe leaving a situation or person behind. It could be quitting a job or getting out of a toxic friendship, either way you feel selfish and not worthy. I'm getting the feeling that you think this is all your fault, blaming yourself for everything. You don't even feel safe in your own head at night when you need to rest, where you feel like you should be able to sleep it off. Your plagued with thoughts of what you did "wrong" here.

Let me tell you something pile 3, you didn't do anything "wrong" here. Whatever this is that's plaguing your thought, it's not your fault. Whatever situation you left, you left for a good reason. It was no longer serving you and/or was actively hurting you.

I feel called to tell you a story from my own life. Recently, I lost a very close friend of mine. We suddenly grew apart and I was plagued with doubts, wondering if I had done something wrong, if it was my fault. It's been months since I left them and cut them out of my life, and now I realize it was them. They suddenly pulled away and made it so I felt guilty about it, made it seem like it was my fault. It wasn't, they were just being cruel, even though I don't think they intended to. But I needed that to happen, I needed to realize they were a toxic person in my life and to be free of them. Now I feel better then ever, and I feel bad for the past me, who thought it was all my fault. I felt so alone. I fell into a deep depression and wouldn't tell anyone what was going on until I had cut that person out. But I'm glad it went through it, because it made me better for it, it made life better for me.

And if, IF, for whatever reason, you think you did make a mistake, no if's and's or but's, then that's ok too. We are human. We make mistakes sometimes. It's ok. We can grow from that too.

I'm sorry you're going through whatever it is you're going through pile 3, but know that it's not your fault, and you didn't make a mistake. It's ok. You're growing, and that means change. It means growing pains. It means leaving things behind. You will get through this pile 3, even if it takes some time. You will become better from this. This isn't your fault.

Confirmation and signs: fall/autumn, winter, change, end, snow, falling leaves, changing leaves, grey skies and cloudy weather, Aries, cancer, Sagittarius, Libra, 333, 666, 444, 1111, 999, earth, pentacles, stars, stars in the night sky, twinkling/sparkling stars, crying, rain, creativity, sickness, bed rest, hospital, rivers and creeks, forests, fire and flames, passion, hope, it'll all get better, it'll all be ok, the moon, the night, the night sky, The moons spirit, the moon Goddess, New moon(that made me emotional lol), change, venus, accepting yourself, inner peace, Jupiter, fate/destiny, this was meant to happen, it will all come to fruition soon, it will all come to an end soon, don't blame yourself, change is coming,gifts from the universe, unexpected gifts, gifts disguised and tragedies.

(Note: I feel like you may have been called to pile 1, if so check that one out too.)

[idylls-of-the-divine-romance]

Hi, hope you don't take this as an accusation or anything but about the take you rebbloged about how christians shouldn't perform witchcraft because it treats God like someone to recieve things from and that that's how many pagan religions treated their deities... Does that mean you don't support any type of paganism? Again, not trying to accuse you of hate but i'm curious about your stance in all this, since i had heard opinions about progressive christians to other mayor religions but not to the types of beliefs we call paganism

Hi, Anonie. No problem I got you. 

To clear the first things first: I do understand that transaction is not the way all pagan religions work (and also that the delineation of religions as “pagan” and “not pagan” is uh iffy). Paganism is broad and complicated and so sweeping statements tend to fall apart. 

But yeah. I’m not really “against” paganism in any way. There’s a pagan witch that I follow on another website and I really love her content about literature and Greek mythology/literature, as well as her perspective as someone who is ex (Calvinist) Christian who still tries to respects Christianity. And I do “support” paganism in the sense that, if in my country one of these pagan religions was being oppressed, I would advocate for their rights to freedom of conscience. As all Christians should for practical reasons if not obvious ethical ones. 

But orthodox Christian theology says there is no salvation from slavery to Sin and Death and Decay outside of Jesus the Messiah of which the Church — as an immortal multiethnic family/sociopolitical community of other centered life giving intimate and sacrificial love, existing in both the seen and unseen realms — is his body, to which he is attached but not bound. This is my (imo much better) version of St Cyprian of Carthage’s extra Ecclesiam nulla salus. Anyone who is not baptized into Jesus the Christ is not saved. Jew or non-Jew, poor or rich, male or female — all are enslaved to the cosmic tyrant and all need salvation by Jesus of Nazareth. 

As for progressive Christianity, if one claims to be both “progressive” and “Christian” than they are making a claim that (1) on the political sphere all religious affiliation or lack thereof is equal and (2) that in the spiritual sphere all other claims to divinity, the good life, the Ultimate, or whatever any ideology preaches or teaches — any claim that is in opposition to the proclamation “Jesus is Lord” (“Lord” being a claim of divinity and supremacy) is false. One cannot be Christian and pagan, and no follower of Jesus Messiah can preach or promote paganism. Or Hinduism or atheism or Islam or Sikhism or literally anything outside Christ. 

The worship of any god or lord outside of the God of Abraham, Creator of all things seen and unseen, is strictly forbidden. And yes, classical Christianity does believe in the existence of gods (unseen spirits): the divine counsel/sons of God, the messengers, living creatures, the adversary, the principalities and powers, the injurious spirits, the saints (it’s complicated but yes, the all who are in Christ and with Christ but not in their physical bodies are unseen spirits who pray on our behalf). When praying to unseen spirits who are not the God of Abraham and Isaac and Jacob, there are a few options

they are worshipping nothing. Just prostrating before wood or stone or water. 

they are worshipping injurious spirits and/or principalities and powers. Dangerous. They are oppressive and dark and violent and also the reason my country is going to hell right now and are dedicated to decreation — the act of dragging God’s goo creation back into nonorder and nonbeing. 

There are, technically speaking, a few more possibilities but these are incredibly rare and not worth delving into. But yeah. I am definitely against paganism in the sense of being against the violence of spiritual beings against beautiful images of God. 

[33-108]

The peculiar Process in the Shaping of the magical Child.

- Jacob Boehme

The Course of Christ upon the Earth is a real Type how the new Child is nourished in the Mother's Womb after its Conception, as is before mentioned, and attains a vegetable Life, and grows up to the Time of its right Soul's and Spirit's Life; and how the Child arises from the Parents Essence, and how in the Enkindling of its right, viz. of its own Life, it casts away the Parents Vegitta and Working; and how a new Plant, viz. a new peculiar Operation, does now arise according to the new enkindled Spirit's Property, whereby the Child is more noble than its Parents, understand as to its outward Life.

But perhaps some rude clownish Sophister might meet with this Treatise, and draw a strange Understanding from it, in that I write of a Soul in the vegetative Life; but let him know that we do not understand the Image of God, which was Formed into a Likeness according to God [to be] in Metals, Stones, and Herbs; but we understand the magical Soul, how the Eternity, viz. the Deity, imprints and pourtrays itself into its Likeness according to the Model of its Wisdom in all Things, and how God fills all in all; we understand the Summum Bonum, the good Treasure which lies hidden in the outward World's Essence as a Paradise.

When Christ in his Childhood grew up in human and divine Property till he was twelve Years old, he went with his Mother Mary to the Feast at Jerusalem, and went into the Temple among the Scribes, asked them, and hearkened to them, and gave Answer to the Questions of the Teachers; but when his Parents returned home, supposing him to be among the Company, he remained Purposely behind among the Doctors, and followed not the Intent of his Parents, but the Divine Will, till they came back again, and sought him; and then his Mother said to him, My Son, why hast thou dealt thus with us? Lo! thy Father and I have been seeking thee sorrowing. Then he said unto them, How is it that you have sought me? wist ye not that I must be about my Father's Business? And he went home with them, and was subject unto them.

In this Figure we have the Type of the Wills of the inward and outward World, how they are in one another, and against one another, and yet are but one: Even as in Christ there were two Kingdoms manifest; one which was wrought unto God's Will, and broke the outward World's Will of its Parents, in that Christ tarried behind contrary to the Will of his Parents, at which they were troubled, which the divine Will in Christ knew well enough; and the other Kingdom, viz. of his Parents Will, broke the divine Will, that he went home with them, and was obedient to them according to their Will.

This Figure shows the Magus, that he shall find two Wills in his Purpose, which he thinks to carry on; one will not be obedient and subject unto him, viz. the divine Will; and yet if its own peculiar external Will shall rightly apply itself thereunto, and only seek the dear Child Jesus with Mary, with Desire and earnest Sorrow, and not earthly Pleasure of the Flesh, then the divine Will will be obedient to him, and go home with him, and be used according to his good Pleasure.

Secondly, it shows him the two-fold Working and Will in all Things; and if he will be a Magus, and according to his Will turn the Will and Essence of the good Property out of the inward into the outward, then he must be first capable of the inward, viz. of the divine Will, otherwise he cannot change the inward Will into the outward; as Christ was not obedient to the external Will of his Mother till she sought him with Grief and Sorrow of Heart, and turned her Will into God's Will, and wrestled in his Compassion with God's Will, as Jacob the whole Night, till the Lord blessed him, and God said unto him, Thou hast wrestled with God and Man, and hast overcome, or got the Victory.

Also let the Magus know, that he need not go about to implant the right Will to Perfection from without into his Purpose; it is already in all Things; only he must introduce a divine desirous Will according to the Thing's Property into that Thing which he takes in Hand, which wrestles with the divine Will as Jacob, and blesses the Will introduced to God's Will, that the divine Will yields itself freely into the Hunger, or inclines itself to the Desire, and makes the imperfect Will (which earnestly presses into his Compassion) perfect, and then it is rightly said, Thou hast wrestled with God, and hast overcome; then thy Purpose obtains a transformed Body, which is heavenly and earthly.

Observe it! It is the first Beginning to Baptism, and so you are fit and prepared to the Baptism, and not otherwise, else you baptize only with the Water of the outward World; but the true Magus baptizes with the outward and inward Water: If he has a right divine Desire in him, then God's Will in his Baptism is the first glimmering Tinder in Mercury, so that the Life enkindles Death, viz. the Mercury shut up in Death, and begets divine Desire; even then Mercury begins to Hunger after divine Essence, and does his first Miracle, and turns the Water into Wine, as Christ did after his Baptism: This is the first Tincturation in the dead Corpus in the Power of Baptism, that the Vegitta, or Working energetical Life, obtains another Property, viz. an Hunger of Love, wherewith she embraces her Bridegroom, viz. the Fire-Source, that he is enkindled in her Love, and changes his cold deadly Wrath and Will into a fiery Love-Will:

Then the mortal Water turns into Wine (a Sharpness of a Fire and Water-Taste,) out of which at last comes an Oil to another Baptism, after the Manner and Disposition of the Artist, viz. according as he intends and begins; after the Magus has joined the Virgin and young Man together, then Christ, viz. the Bridegroom, is led with his Bride into the Desart, and tempted of the Devil.

Here is the Trial whereby the Artist is proved by God what he seeks with his Baptism; for here is the Proof in Paradise to try whether the Bridegroom be not too bad, for the Virgin calls her Love upon him, and invites him, if he receives it with Desire, and gives his Will thereinto, then she gives him her Heart and Will wholly: This is the heavenly Tincture, which gives itself into the enkindled Anger of God (viz. into the Curse of the Earth when God Cursed it) that is, into the Mercury enclosed in Death, which is the Bridegroom, for the Seed of the Woman, viz. the heavenly Tincture, must bruise the Head of the Serpent, viz. the poisonful Mercury, in the Property of Death, and change his Poison into Wine, and then the Virgin receives the Seed of the Bridegroom, and not before.

The Desart is the earthly outward Body, where Mercury is tempted; when the Devil appears to Mercury, and Plagues him, and assaults him in his fiery Essence, then must the Virgin come to help him, and give him her Love: Now if the Mercury eats of the Virgin-like Love, that is, of God's Bread, then he may stand before the Devil; and at last the Angels come to him, and serve him; the illuminated Magus will well understand what is meant by the Devil.

Hereby let the Magus in the Temptation (seeing the whole Marriage stands in the Devil's Temptation) have a careful Eye upon his Purpose; and if the Angels do not appear in forty Days Space, then is his Purpose in vain, therefore let him look, that he suffer not too fierce a Devil to tempt, and also not too weak, lest Mercury become Light, and desire to continue in his own poisonful Death's Property, and devour the Baptism as a Wolf, and the old one remains.

As soon as he espies the Forms of Angels, let him bring Christ out of the Desart, and let the Bridegroom eat again his own Food, and dismiss the Devil, that he may no longer Plague him, and then Christ will do many Wonders and Signs, at which the Artist will Wonder and rejoice: Then he has nothing to do, the Bride is in the Bridegroom; they are already married, he need only make their Bed ready, they will warm it well enough themselves; the Bridegroom embraces the Bride, and the Bride the Bridegroom, and this is their Food and Pastime till they beget a Child.

But if the Artist will needs be so diligent as to warm the married Couple s Bed, then let him have a Care he do not anger and enrage them in their Love; what he begins he must go on with, only the Bridegroom is wonderful: He has continually two Wills, viz. an earthly Hunger after God's Anger, and an Hunger after his Bride; therefore he must always have his own earthly Food given him, but not into his Belly, but magically, that so he may satisfy only his own Will's-Hunger; his Food is his Mother that begets him, as it is before mentioned.

In brief, the whole Work which Men speak so much and wonderfully of consists in two Things, in an heavenly and in an earthly; the heavenly must make the earthly in it to an heavenly: The Eternity must make Time in it to Eternity: The Artist seeks Paradise; if he finds it, he has the great Treasure upon the Earth: But one dead Man does not raise another; the Artist must be living, if he will say to the Mountain, Arise, and cast thyself into the Sea.

When the Incarnation of the Child begins, then first of all Saturn takes it, and then it is dark and disesteemed, and is contemned and derided, that such a Mystery should lie hid in such a mean Form, there Christ walks in a poor simple Form upon the Earth, as a Pilgrim, and has not so much Room and Propriety in Saturn as to lay his Head: He goes as a Stranger, as if he were not there at home.

After this the Moon takes it, and then the heavenly and earthly Properties are mixed, and the vegetative Life arises, and then the Artist rejoices; but he is yet in Danger.

After the Moon Jupiter takes it, who makes an Understanding in Mercury, viz. a pleasant Habitation, and gives him its good Will, and in Jupiter his enclosed Life, viz. Mercury is quickened, who takes it with its Orb, and forces it into the highest Anguish: And then Mars apprehends it, and gives the Fire-Soul to Mercury, and in the Flagrat of Mars the highest Life enkindles itself, and separates itself into two Essences, viz. out of the Love into a Body, and out of the Fire into a Spirit; then the Life of Love in the fiery Flagrat sinks downwards, and appears beautiful, but it is Venus, a Woman: Then the Artist supposes that he has the treasure, but the hungry Mercury devours Venus, and the Child turns to a black Raven; then Mars afflicts Mercury in himself, till he grows faint, and yields himself to Death: Then the four Elements depart from him, and the Sun receives the Child into its Property, and lets it forth in a Virgin-like Body in the pure Element; for in the Property of Mars the Light is enkindled, and the right Life is born, and stands in the pure Element; no Anger nor Death can destroy it.

It seems strange in the Eyes of Reason, that God has kept such a Process with the Restoring of Man in Christ, that he appeared in such a poor disesteemed Form in the human Property, and was reviled, mocked, scorned, scourged, crucified and slain; and that he was buried, and rose again out of the Grave, and walked forty Days upon the Earth before he entered into his invisible Kingdom.

Reason is so blind, that it understands nothing of the eternal Birth, it knows nothing of Paradise, how Adam was in Paradise, and how he fell, and what the Curse of the Earth is: If it understood this, the whole Process were manifest to it: As the eternal Birth is in itself, so is also the Process with the Restoration after the Fall, and so likewise is the Process of the Wisemen with their Philosopher's Stone, there is not the least Tittle of Difference betwixt them; for all Things originally arise out of the eternal Birth, and all must have one Restoration in one and the same Manner.

Therefore if the Magus will seek Paradise in the Curse of the Earth, and find it, then must he first walk in the Person of Christ; God must be manifest in him, understand in the internal Man, that he may have the magical Sight: He must deal with his Purpose as the World did with Christ, and then he may find Paradise, wherein is no Death.

But if he be not in this Birth of Restoration, and walks not himself in the Way wherein Christ walked upon the Earth, if he steps not forth into the Will and Spirit of Christ, then let him give over and leave off his Seeking; he finds nothing but Death, and the Curse of God. I tell him plainly and faithfully, for the Pearl of which I write is paradisical, which God does not cast before Swine, but gives it to his Children for their Play and Delight.

And though much Might be mentioned here, that even Reason Might obtain open Eyes, yet it is not to be done; for the wicked would grow worse, and more full of Pride; therefore seeing he is not worthy of Paradise, and also cannot enter thereinto, no heavenly Jewel shall be given him: And therefore God hides it, and permits him to whom he reveals it, to speak of it no otherwise than magically; therefore no one attains it, unless he himself be a Magus in Christ, unless Paradise be manifest in his internal Man; and then he may find, if he be born to it, and chosen by God.

[talonabraxas]

The Transmutation of Jacob Boehme

“I did not climb up into the Godhead, neither can so mean a man as I am do it; but the Godhead climbed up in me, and revealed such to me out of His love, which otherwise I would have had to leave it quite alone in my half-dead fleshly birth.”

(Jacob Boehme, Aurora, VIII, 7)

Four years prior to the birth of John Bunyan, a shoemaker named Jacob Boehme died in the village of Goerlitz, Germany. Throughout his adult life Boehme had supported his wife and children by laboring at a rough and dingy workbench. But he was more than a cobbler; for as Alexander Whyte observes, “While working with his hands, Jacob Boehme’s whole life was spent in the deepest and the most original thought; in piercing visions of God and of nature; in prayer, in praise, and in love to God and man.”

Under the spell of Paracelsus, Boehme had in his youth taken a keen interest in alchemy. But in his maturer years, disillusioned with what he came to regard as the groundless claims of the science of transformation, he began increasingly to attach a spiritual and eternal significance to its conceptual framework. In the process his outlook altered radically; yet when speaking of this profound inward change, he naturally reverted to the language he knew best – the argot of the old spagyric art.

There was a difference, however. For now when he referred to the Philosopher’s Stone, Boehme no longer envisioned a magical catalyst possessing the power to turn one substance into another. Instead, he understood the Stone as an image of the New Birth. And so it happened that Jacob Boehme, shoemaker and alchemist, abandoned his efforts to transform lead into gold and exchanged them for a quest to be transformed in the inner man.

In the story of The Sword of Paracelsus, Morgan’s father, John Izaak, finds himself compelled to follow a similar quest. This part of the tale is, admittedly, wrapped in shadow. Yet as it unfolds, one thing becomes sufficiently clear: it is largely under the influence of Jacob Boehme that Izaak has set out upon his journey – inspired, we may imagine, by passages like the following:

“The eternal fire is magical, and a spirit, and dies not. It is the same fire as a dying, yet there is no dying, but an entrance into another source, that is, out of a painful desire into a love-desire …”

(The Signature of All Things)

“For man’s happiness consists in this, that he has in him a true desire after God; for out of the desire springs the love. And the love tinctures the death and darkness, that it is again capable of the divine sunshine.”

(Ibid.)

“He that will not seek thereby a new man born in God, and apply himself diligently thereto, let him not meddle with my writings. I have not written anything for such a seeker, and also he shall not be able to apprehend our meaning fundamentally though he strives never so much about it, unless he enters into the resignation in Christ. For the way is childlike, plain and easy.”

(Ibid.)

“Awaken in me the fire of Your great love. Ignite it, O Lord, so that my soul and mind may see these evil beasts and kill them by means of proper, true repentance and Your power.”

(The Way to Christ)

“If love dwelt not in trouble, it could have nothing to love.”

(The Supersensual Life)

This is the true alchemy as Jacob Boehme — and John Izaak — understood it.

[ Artist • Jakob Böhme ]