#true lovers knot moth

[moths-daily]

Lycophotia porphyrea???

Moth Of The Day #239

True Lover's Knot

Lycophotia porphyrea

From the noctuidae family. They have a wingspan of 26-34 mm. They inhabit parks, deciduous forests, heathland and moorland. They can be found throughout Europe.

Image sources: [1] [2] [3] [4]

[hellsitegenetics]

Greetings! This seems like a fun gimmick blog. May I request the sequence of Big Bill Hells?

String identified: c at! ' g t a ca t , ' a g g cc t c t g ' ca! a a, ca tat a , t! t ga a aga at g ', ca a! t' tat ' c a t tc, ' a t t, gaat! a tt a, t g a! a gt, t g a! g ta, g tt, g , ' c ! Tat' gt ' c ! ca at g ', ' c a a! Ta a t g '! cag g, tat' gt, cag g. t ? ca 6 t t a tagt , a t gt t, gt at! 't at, 't a, 't c t ' t ! at g ', t a tat t t c ! , a! T t t t at t a cc, a t tt t c ' a a tc! G t ! g ' ca, at' tt a c t at tc t tat aa, gaat!!

Closest match: Lycophotia porphyrea genome assembly, chromosome: 19 Common name: True lovers' knot

[darkleysgarden]

Asmodeus Facts!

As a lore person and Asmo lover, I present this.

I am willing to add more as I think of them or as they are suggested (with proof).

13+

1. As most people know: Asmo has canonically given Solomon hickeys before.

2. His favorite animal is a resplendent quetzal. (A bird)

3. Asmo unintentionally was a huge factor in the Trojan War starting.

4. Raphael used to scold Asmo a lot, causing him to dislike Raphael. He doesn't feel this way anymore.

5. He sleeps naked.

6. Asmo's biggest fear is turning ugly and essentially loosing all of his worth.

7. He can smell if people are romantically interested in each other.

8. He has had a face lift before.

9. A lot of fan mail is sent to the RAD suggestion box for him.

10. He is *surprisingly* not very flexible.

11. Has referred to Mc as his 'Bestie'. He and Lucifer have also said that he was madly in love with them. So... why not both?

×

12. *TRIGGER WARNING: EATING DISORDER*

He panics over gaining the slightest amount, down to a kilogram of weight or a millimeter more onto his waist. He also goes on diets and refuses to eat frequently. Satan has also stated that he's seen Asmo sneak snacks in the middle of the night. All of this implies that he struggles with an eating disorder.

×

13. Mammon once found a 'crazy provocative' outfit in his room that was 'FULL of holes!' (Turns out it was one of his favorite outfits chewed up by moths!)

14. In the Celestial Realm he was known as the 'Jewel of the Heavens'. Simeon states that Asmo is still constantly trying to live up to that standard.

15. Y'know how some people can tie a knot in a cherry stem? Well Asmo can tie a butterfly knot!

16. Asmo's dyed his hair pink before and presumably still does on occasions.

17. Asmo is the one who paints all the brother's nails. And this is typically done with a paint brush, not the average nail polish brush.

18. He always puts on a face mask right before he goes to bed.

19. Asmo prefers smooth red bean paste over chunky.

20. He hates being cold and the downsides of winter, like dry skin. Yet, he does love the aesthetic of winter.

21. He doesn't like carrying people as he believes it will cause him to gain muscle. He believes he's more desirable thin.

22. When he first met Solomon, he was in the middle of crying alone at a bar. Solomon came up to him to ask if he was okay. This, and the rest of their conversations that night, eventually led to their current relationship.

23. He enjoys gossiping with Satan.

24. While most demons dislike uses of pacts, Asmo finds them heavily thrilling.

25. He admits to admiring Lucifer the most.

26. Asmo believes that he can always rely on Satan.

27. Asmo enjoys hanging out with Mammon and becomes proud of him for his accomplishments. Though, he likes teasing him because it keeps him on his toes and he believes that Mammon acts the most foolish out of all of them.

28. Demon's have to give their human pact mate something to allow summonings. Asmo gifted Solomon a gigantic oil painting of himself. It was notably his favorite 'selfie' at the time.

29. He is a dog person. He prefers big dogs to little ones.

30. He's never read the student handbook despite being on the student council.

31. Is actually pretty good at juggling a ball with his feet. Good enough to score 5th place out of the 15 characters.

32. Satan has allowed him to copy off of his homework before.

33. His birthday is May 15th, making him a Taurus.

34. He put together Levi's human world outfit.

35. He hates his true demon form, something Mammon often jokes about.

36. Asmo is the weakest brother in terms of strength. He gets worn out incredibly easily. (Maybe because of fact 12 and your refusal to gain muscle or weight. What am I going to do with you, love?)

37. A large amount of his fan base calls him 'daddy'.

38. He frequently teases Levi about having no friends.

39. Really good at rock-papper-scissors.

40. Doesn't really care what happens to him as long as he looks cute during. Even if it's a terrible curse.

41. He is an extremely emotional drunk. He will start sobbing when intoxicated in the slightest.

42. He is not ashamed about his own dirty mind. He even calls out Mammon for having one too.

43. Ass or Tits? Asmo chooses ass.

44. Doodles in textbooks. He even left a kiss mark in Solomon's once when borrowing it.

45. Lucifer practically goes, "Keep the door open" Whenever he catches Solomon, Mc, or anyone else hanging out with Asmo.

46. Isn't good at silly faces. He ends up looking gorgeous instead of silly.

47. Can be horrifying when angry. Beel is more scared of an angry Asmo than an angry Lucifer.

48. Mc is practically the first ever person to like him romantically and not sexually. He has said that no one before Mc has ever complimented his personality before, only his looks.

49. Loves bonding with his brothers even if they're completely opposite of him. He remembers more about Ruri-chan than any of the other brothers (hinted at) just because he actually cares to listen to Levi and bond with him.

50. What part of his body does he wash first when bathing? Well, you'll have to bathe with him to find out~

51. He held his first Asmofest/Asmo gathering 7 days after his birth. These are now held several times a month. He spends time with people he likes, usually drinking. Lucifer is present at most of them.

52. Asmo once wished to have 8 heads. His brother's made him give up on this dream.

53. Asmo requested that Levi write him a novel. This novel was called Space Pajama Party: The Great Beauty War. The hero of the stories name was 'The Hero'. The Hero is based off of MC and the character Atan is based off Levi.

54. According to Asmo, he looks best shot from the left at about a 40 degree angle.

55. It's highly likely that Asmo was the main designer for the guest/Mc's room. Comparing his room to the room, his influence is obvious.

56. He owns an absurd amount of clothes, beauty products, and bathing products.

57. He is terrible at remembering stuff about other people. He even failed a quiz about Solomon, who he considers himself to be insanely close to (This, presumably, does not apply to MC).

58. He works as an influencer on DevilTube and Devilgram. He also does designing. He designs products, clothes, etc. These designs are most notably shown at Majolish but can be seen all around the Devildom. He usually doesn't get paid in grimm for designing, receiving products, and samples instead. He says he prefers that in all honesty (He'd just buy the stuff with grimm anyway).

59. He used to be close to Belphie back in the Celestial Realm. Beel even said that Belphie was practically glued to Asmo's hip.

60. Asmo is the one who came up with the name 'Team Solomon'. Barbatos wasn't a big fan of the name.

61. He was implied to have fucked Santa Claus

62. Even though he is the shortest brother, he often looks taller because he wears heels.

63. Asmodeus knew of Solomon's horrible cooking skills before any of the others. When Solomon tried to serve everybody at the Demon Lord's castle, he purposefully didn't eat any of Solomon's cooking.

64. Asmo is really sensitive about his brother's compliments. One compliment from any of them could bring him to tears easily.

65. During the retreat to the Demon Lord's castle, Asmo becomes heavily affectionate for MC. One of the things he first does is inspect them head to toe, checking their ears, teeth, fingers, etc. This supports him saying that he wishes to know EVERYTHING about MC and potentially any other lover.

66. He doesn't like washing the dishes because it makes his skin rough.

67. To some peoples surprise, he is really good with kids. He even worked with them in the human world. Though, Satan commented that he wouldn't trust his kid with Asmo. He also often makes inappropriate jokes in front of Luke. But, he just shrugs them off and tells Luke that he'll understand when he's older.

68. Asmo enjoys "healing music"

69. (😏) He's a switch. He's quoted to have said, "I'll make you squeal for me!" As well as, "You wanna try some other spots too? Go ahead, I'm all yours." These are two of many lines that help imply this.

70. Despite what many think, he does have standards. He also is not appreciative of randomly being used as an object of beauty or sex. Though he's admitted that he can easily see the good in everyone and finds everyone a little bit attractive in their own way. He also says that he flirts with people so often because his happiness spreads to others and ends up making more people happy. So many people like him, because he likes so many people. Simple as that. But, this doesn't mean he will appreciate just anybody.

71. He didn't have an Asmo gathering for an entire year after the fall. His first one was held with MC as an honorary guest. Solomon couldn't make it.

72. He's implied to like fortune and horoscopes.

73. He doesn't like shopping with 'drab' shopping bags.

74. Asmo tends to photobomb and photo taken around him because he believes he is the most photo-worthy person/thing in the area.

75. He's seen to be unapologetic to any exes he has. He may even flirt with them despite them being annoyed with him.

76. Asmo is seen to heavily miss the Celestial Realm after falling. He repressed most of the feelings for awhile, but they overwhelmed him the first time he saw Simeon and Luke after everything happened.

77. He listed his pronouns on his FabSnap account as Fab/ulous

78. Asmo had trouble calling him and his brothers 'demons' instead of 'angels' for a while after falling.

79. He frequently calls Solomon 'his'.

80. He has a pair of flower earrings that he wears all the time.

81. Asmo, along with his brothers, have all experienced hate for being angels, ex-angels, and demons in different contexts.

82. He has an entire photo album dedicated to photos of himself as an angel.

83. Asmo is not only lustful, but has shown many signs of bloodlust. He even brings up ripping out MC's heart and tearing it open to see if they were telling the truth.

84. He openly admits to being turned on at random.

85. While his brothers fight over bathing order, Asmo likes to go have a nice long bath in his own bathroom just to taunt them.

86. Asmo is pansexual. Good for him.

87. He gets insecure if he doesn't get reassured of MC's love constantly. He texts demanding 'I love yous' and demands compliments.

88. Asmo likes to wear what Mammon calls 'skimpy underwear'.. (And more lingerie!)

89. He very rarely gets more than annoyed. Very rarely even gets annoyed. He isn't seen transforming into his demon form at all during the main story out of anger (And so far from what I've played in Nightbringer). Though, I have seen him transform once in a Devilgram, but he quickly calmed down in seconds.

90. Asmo thinks that drool is unattractive on a man (probably any other gender too, he didn't clarify). He often tells Beel this as a life lesson. (This also presumably does not apply to sex.)

New On May 15th:

91. Solomon has a very hard time saying no to Asmo

92. When giving out gifts, they frequently feature his face. If you're lucky, you may even find yourself with a nice new set of lingerie.

93. Asmo is good at singing, writing, and composing songs. Anywhere from a ballad to hard metal. He even sings live!

94. Solomon once gifted him bath salts made by an incubus. The affect of the charm was SO STRONG that Asmo had to drink an antidote made by Solomon. (It tasted surprisingly good)

95. Asmo is insecure about the fact that he is unable to use his charm ability on MC.

96. In Nightbringer, Satan says that Asmo is the brother he hates the least.

97. Asmo's favorite way to spend his birthday is with people close to him, not with big parties.

98. Asmo really dislikes bugs.

99. Asmo has gathered so many products that he can find something in his collection that works for people with completely different hair and skin from him.

100. He loves flowers, candles, soaps, whatever smell-filled things he can find. (Me who takes allergy medicine on the daily: bro you're gonna murder me the second I step foot in your room.)

[harmlessghosty]

Hello 👋

I love video game theories and was interested on your views of the Touchstarved demo and what theories you might have on it :)

Oh my gosh, hi! ❤️

I am but a ditzy romance writer, not a lore keeper, but I have thoughts?? Apologies for how much is wrong or ridiculous because I don’t know all the current lore, and the wiki is so bare that I can hardly find anything confirmed by the devs. This is kind of just stream-of-consciousness!

Excuse my format because I don’t know how tumblr works lol

— Leander is a reference to oleander, which is a flower found basically everywhere and a fairly common, beautiful plant despite widely being considered poisonous. It gives me the idea that Leander is NOT someone to mess with and has lots of surface-level escapades (which is implied in canon) with people who find him physically beautiful but not necessarily beautiful on the inside. He also uses many underhanded, mysterious tactics to kill Soulless/Monsters/criminals, you name it. He’s everywhere, everyone knows him, everyone loves him, but he’s very dangerous under that beautiful exterior. Maybe he even kills some innocent people for the right price of big secrets. I bet he knows a LOT about Eridia’s people, so he’s viewed as trustworthy because what else can you do when he knows everything about everyone?

— Interestingly though! Leander’s main flower is the lily?? Lily is super poisonous to cats, which makes me think maybe there will be some sort of connection between Mhin’s stray cats and Leander being a danger to them (or possibly to Mhin themself).

— I feel like Leander gave himself that big scar. Maybe something went horribly wrong when he became a powerful mage. Maybe he went to Ais and the Seaspring even. It’s possible this is why their relationship is strained and they’re always trying to kill each other.

— Ais’ gang didn’t just go for a walk. They died or got turned into Soulless. Maybe after drinking from the Seaspring, after some amount of time, people turn into Soulless. It could be revealed that all the murdering of Soulless ends up being murdering of your fellow humans?? One really big secret.

— Mhin is a stereotypical “broken bird” trope. Super cynical and sarcastic. Went through major trauma and now they’re a hunter with a heart of gold. Not to mention their bird motif that a lot of people say is obvious?? I think that’s an interesting way to look at them.

— Also! “The vultures can smell death.” It gives Mhin the connection to the birds, that they’re turning into a vulture maybe?? Maybe they hate it as well because they’re drawn to stray cats as friends, and vultures go after smaller critters. They’re scared of hurting the only friends they have (including Kuras, who practically took them under his wing). Not to mention it’s a reference to them being able to smell death on the MC.

— Vere and Kuras were both in Eridia since the days it began, and they’ve butted heads for many, many years. Maybe Vere was cursed by Kuras into his current Monster form for having connections to the Senobium. Kuras thought it was funny to give Vere traits of a sneaky fox, maybe not even knowing that they would last forever OR because Vere did something awful to him. That may be the reason Kuras is repenting so much.

— This also can give credence to the idea of Vere saying (paraphrasing), “You’re not a human but not a Monster, like me,” to the MC. He was turned into a Monster rather than born one.

— The “Lloventian knot” Vere mentions, when you look it up, leads you to the “true lover’s knot,” which involves two overhand knots and some parallel ropes. Makes me think he’s got some big secret of a lover he’s lost, or maybe he was just teasing the MC with something that sounded sexual, but it seems odd to have a specific mention of something that may (or may not even??) exist.

— “Danger is drawn to you like a moth to flame,” from Vere. He absolutely can sense something “special” about the MC that, no matter what MC does, they’re in grave danger. Hence why the game description says that the ending can either be lovey-dovey or blood-icingly awful. I don’t know about having theories for this quote, but it feels so very important.

— There’s got to be a riff between Kuras and Mhin at some point for their opinions on the Senobium. I just feel it in my bones.

— Ais was the first to drink from the Seaspring, which is why he’s not technically one of the Groupminds. It also explains why he’s the leader of the gang, since he’s the most sound of mind, but I’m betting he’s scared of Ocudeus. He speaks in such short sentences most of the time because his brain is so muddled. I also find it interesting how the MC has only heard of the Groupminds but never seen one, given their assumed upbringing in a rougher environment. But that’s just kind of my opinion with no real basis in the demo.

— Sparrows symbolize a lot of things, like hope, bravery and friendship. I like to think that Ais picked the nickname for people who come to the Seaspring, because they’re all full of innocent hope that they can be cured. They also symbolize community, so anyone who drinks from the Seaspring is part of one big happy family!

Again, a lot of these could be counteracted by canon content from the devs, but I still think there are lots of fun things to explore about this game, even if I’m not right about a chunk of things. Just think of everything I said as an AU!

[scenteddean]

I just learned there's a moth species named True Lover's Knot

[cheri-translates]

[CN] Lucien’s A Love Not in Vain Date (Eng Translation)

🍒 Contains detailed spoilers for a date yet to be released in EN! 🍒

Conversation between Lucien and Dr Sun before the date: here

NOTE: @redqueenschoice​ did the translation for this. All I did was proofread and format :> It’s on my blog because:

Candlelit Night Collection: Gavin // Kiro // Victor

Trivia regarding the name of the date:

This date is called 不负相思意, which is the final line of a poem called “Bu Suan Zi” by Li Zhiyi, a Song Dynasty poet

A loose translation of the stanza: When will the river run dry? / When will my sorrow come to an end? / I wish your heart may be like mine / My love for you will not be in vain.

-

Note: The italicised portions are a mix of both translations and summaries!

-

[ CHAPTER ONE ]

Within the university building, the clear sound of the dismissal bell rings.

Lucien: ...then, we shall end today’s lesson here.

I stand at the door of the classroom, watching as Lucien packs his teaching materials in an orderly manner at the lectern. I subconsciously smile at this sight, since it’s been a long time since I’ve seen this side of him.

MC: Lu-

Female student: Mr Lucien, please wait for a moment!

Just as I’m about to call his name, a female student suddenly runs up to the speaker’s podium. The female student looks like she’s gathering up her courage, then says something to Lucien. Her face is slightly red, and there is a hopeful expression on her face.

Lucien’s expression is as gentle and mild as ever. Without speaking, he simply listens quietly, occasionally nodding politely, the look in his eyes a little distant.

Without realising it, I stand on my tiptoes, trying to hear what they have to say. I catch sight of a pale pink perfume sachet clutched tightly in the student’s hand.

MC: I feel like I’ve seen that somewhere before...

I suddenly remember where I’ve seen it: while researching and preparing materials for the episode on the Matchmaker’s Temple.

MC: Could it be... 

I look at Lucien and the female student, before slowly retracting the hand on the door handle. A subtle emotion blooms in my heart. Before it has time to grow, it dissipates the second Lucien turns his head to look at me.

He walks towards me, eyes brimming with affection.

Lucien: Why didn’t you come in? Have you been waiting long?

MC: ...no, no I haven’t. I just got here. Besides, you seem busy. 

Lucien gives me a blank stare for a moment before smiling, reaching out to run his fingers through some strands of my hair. When I lower my head, I catch sight of the female student, who is no longer smiling while she stands on the speaker’s podium. The student leaves the room in a hurry. 

Lucien follows my line of sight and appears to guess what's in my mind. A smile tugs at his lips before he reaches out to tap my forehead lightly.

Lucien: What wild thoughts are you having now?

MC: I wasn’t having any wild thoughts! I came here to ask for your help with something...

I frantically shake my head, grabbing Lucien’s arm and pulling him along without a second thought, as if that would help steer the conversation away. Lucien laughs lightly, smoothly steering me towards the exit.

~

[ On the university grounds ] 

Lucien: Hmm, I think I’ve guessed it. You specially came all the way to the university... just for a work matter, am I right? 

Lucien lets out a soft sigh as he speaks, but the gaze he gives me is filled with a familiar tenderness and doting.

MC: That’s not entirely true...

Lucien: Hmm? Then, what else is there?

MC: There’s somewhere I want to go with you. Although part of the reason is because of the episode we’re doing next week, but...

As I speak, my footsteps stop. I pinch my ears awkwardly before raising my head to meet his eyes.

MC: That place is very special. I only want to go there with you.

-

[ CHAPTER TWO ]

Lucien and I head to the old matchmaker’s temple in the countryside, which holds a lot of history.

In recent years, a legend regarding a mysterious love story that happened decades ago has been getting attention in the media.

Along the way to the temple, I see many young men and women dressed in traditional clothes. There is a festive atmosphere in the air.

MC: Lucien, look at them. They should be participating in the matchmaker’s temple activities.

Lucien: Mm. Seems like this place is very special indeed. Is that why you only wanted to come here with me?

MC: [blushing] I only said that they're dressed in a very formal manner!

Lucien laughs a little.

Lucien: From what I see, it seems we are a little whimsical. Why don’t we dress up as well?

MC: You... you’re teasing me again!

Lucien: What if I am being serious about it?

I feel embarrassed.

Lucien: What are you thinking about?

MC: Nothing! Let’s hurry up and go!

~

As we walk along a dirt path, I realise that this place looks familiar.

MC: Lucien, have we been here before?

I turn my head to look at Lucien, and see that his lips are pulled into a line, emotions swirling in his eyes.

Lucien: Mm.

??: Meow...

Lucien’s words are interrupted by a mewing sound. A fat cat slinks out of nowhere, rubbing its head against his leg. Its eyes are half-closed, its gaze drifting towards me. 

Vaguely, I feel like I've seen this black and white cat before somewhere. When it looks at me, memories surface like a bolt of lightning, and I call out its name excitedly.

MC: Precious!?

After walking a little further along the mountain road, we finally reach Precious’ home. It’s a house of traditional make, with a courtyard just as refined and tranquil as in my memories. Dyed fabrics, threads of all colours, and interesting embroidery are placed in various corners, just as they were before. 

It’s as if nothing has changed at all.

Old grandmother: It seems we really have fate with you! When Precious escaped from the house today, he brought the two of you back with him!

MC: It really is such a coincidence. This explains why the road earlier looked so familiar. The previous time I came, I didn’t realise you stayed at the foot of the mountain of the matchmaking temple.

Old grandmother: This temple suddenly became so lively, and the festival is also drawing near. Ah, are the two of you perhaps here to visit the matchmaking temple?

I nod at first, but when I think of the implications, I become flustered and start to shake my head.

MC: Actually, we...

Lucien: Yes. We are here to visit the matchmaking temple. 

Lucien holds my hand tightly in his, before smiling politely at the old grandmother. The old grandmother smiles brightly, and I can feel my cheeks heat up. Feeling two pairs of eyes on me, I quickly change the topic.

MC: That’s right! Granny, did you know about the ‘legend’ of the matchmaking temple? It’s said that a few decades ago, a pair of lovers whose relationship was rejected by their families ran to the matchmaking temple. But after the man contracted leukaemia and died, the woman also vanished mysteriously... After that, the peach tree planted in the backyard blossomed and attracted many butterflies which surrounded it. That’s why the media has dubbed it the “Legend of the Butterfly Lovers”.

[Trivia from Red: “Legend of the Butterfly Lovers” - a pair of devoted lovers cannot be together when the woman, Zhu, has already been promised to another man by her family. The man, Liang, dies from grief and illness. On the day of Zhu’s marriage, she leaves the procession to pay her respects at Liang’s grave, and begs for the grave to open up. With a crack of thunder, it does, and Zhu throws herself into the grave to join Liang. Their spirits emerge as a pair of butterflies, flying away together, never to be separated ever again.]

Old grandmother: [laughs] Where did such a mystifying story come from! Most of it would have been made up by others. Those legends are all fake! Normal people have to part ways in the end, whether they choose to leave each other life, or are separated by death.

Hearing such grim words, I feel slightly depressed. Lucien opens his mouth to speak.

Lucien: I think this legend came about because people believe in something beautiful. “Out of a million people, only a pair of Butterfly Lovers will become butterflies.”

[Trivia from Red: Lucien is quoting a book called “被结婚” (”Getting Married”) by Yibei. The full paragraph is 大概一千万人之中，才有一双梁祝，可以化蝶。其他化为蛾、蟑螂、蚊蚋、苍蝇、金龟子... 就是化不成蝶, which translate to: “Out of a million people, only one pair of Butterfly Lovers will become butterflies. Others become moths, cockroaches, insects, flies and scarabs... just not butterflies.”]

Lucien: Love that transcends death is, of course, precious. But it is already difficult for people to be deeply in love up to the moment of death. Besides, these two feelings cannot be separated or differentiated. 

Lucien pats my hand gently.

Lucien: So, there’s no need to be upset about it.

Lucien’s voice is soft and gentle, but it settles my heart and puts it at ease.

Old grandmother: Ah, it’s this old woman’s fault for speaking too much! The two of you are still young, and have a long time ahead. As for what we were talking about earlier, the matchmaker you’re about to visit is very efficient! If the two of you are genuine, you will definitely receive blessings!

Old grandmother: But... dressing like this won’t do. I have a change of clothes with me. If the both of you don’t mind, perhaps you could make use of them.

~

Old grandmother: Do the clothes fit?

Lucien: Mm, they fit very well. Thank you for the hard work you put into these.

Old grandmother: Just now, MC asked if she could learn how to do embroidery from me, but I told her there would be some difficulties. Instead, she asked if I could teach her how to tie a “True Lover’s Knot”. When I asked if she wanted to tie one for you, she turned red and refused to let me tell you!

[Trivia from Red: True Lover’s Knot (同心结 - “same heart knot”) symbolises love, friendship and affection]

The old grandmother gets flustered and covers her mouth with her hands.

Old grandmother: Oh no! I just told you all of it!

Lucien: Don’t worry, I won’t mention it to her.

At this moment, I step out of the house dressed in a bridal costume. Lucien’s eyes are fixated on me, unable to look away. The old grandmother comments on how beautiful I look, and I fidget nervously with the costume, blushing shyly.

Lucien: Mm. Very pretty.

I suck in a deep breath and begin walking towards the two of them. Even though I still feel shy, I continue walking to Lucien determinedly. He holds out his hand and thinks -

What’s before him right now is what his heart desires. 

-

[ CHAPTER THREE ]

After bidding the old grandmother goodbye, the two of us continue our way up the mountain path towards the matchmaking temple. Along the way, there are many ormosia hosiei trees. 

I admire the scenery, but can’t help getting distracted by the thought of wearing matching outfits with Lucien.

MC: Why did the old grandmother lend us a wedding set...

Lucien: Do you mind it?

MC: Not really. It’s just think everyone has misunderstood the reason why we’re here. 

This is because people who walk past us on the path keep smiling warmly. Some even come up to us, offering their blessings and congratulations. The thought of being a newlywed couple with Lucien in the eyes of others makes me shy.

Lucien: I don’t find it a bother to be misunderstood like this. If you mind, however...

MC: I... I don’t mind! Let’s hurry. If we aren’t fast enough, there will be many people queuing up as well!

When we reach the temple, I start gathering all the things we need, such as incense and joss paper. Lucien asks me to wait for a moment, and walks over to the lady boss to speak with her quietly.

While waiting for him, I notice a palmistry booth set up not too far away ,and ask for a reading for my affinity and marriage. The practitioner studies my hand carefully. But the more he looks, the more his smile seems to face. I start to grow nervous.

MC: Is there a problem?

Practitioner: Little Miss, your ‘marriage affinity’ line is too faint and I can’t see it clearly.

[Note from Red: time to boost your affinity stats MC UPGRADE THE COMPANY]

MC: [panicking] How can that be? Look again a little more carefully, please...

Practitioner: This matchmaking temple ties the red thread on your ankle. Anyway, your marriage affinity is invisible and cannot be seen or felt. So, Little Miss, there’s no need to be worried. 

He pours me a cup of tea to calm me down, and I ask what the tea is. He tells me that it’s a ‘linking affinity’ tea, and that I should give a cup to my newlywed husband when he comes over.

MC: He still isn’t... the tea is quite bitter...

[Note from Red: I SEE WHAT YOU’RE DOING THERE MC]

Lucien reappears with a pair of flat soled women’s shoes, bends down in front of me and begins to take off my current shoes. The shoes are traditional in appearance to match the outfit, but they don’t fit me well, and it would become a struggle to climb the mountain path. The back of my feet hurt. 

Lucien: Even though this silly girl tried so hard to hide it from me, I still found out in the end. 

Embarrassed, I try to pull my feet away to do it on my own, but Lucien insists and helps me put on the shoes with tender carefulness. When he finishes, I reach for the cup of tea on the table and hold it out to him. 

MC: Lucien, are you thirsty?

Lucien: No, why do you ask?

MC: But the tea here is really delicious! Do you want to try some?

Lucien: Is that so? Then I wonder why a certain someone had a frown on her face and commented that the tea was bitter earlier.

I flush, holding out the tea cup awkwardly with a hand as I try to think of what to say. Lucien seems to enjoy looking at my face and watching my expressions.

Practitioner: The tea tastes bitter, but it has a sweet aftertaste!

I latch on to the excuse like, word for word, ‘a drowning man clinging to a tree branch’.

MC: That’s right, that’s right, that’s right! Now my mouth feels like I’ve just eaten a piece of candy!

Lucien laughs a little.

Lucien: When you put it like that, it’s hard not to be moved. Since that’s the case, I will definitely have to drink it well.

At first, Lucien reaches out for the tea cup on the table. But his hand suddenly pauses in mid-air, changes direction, and grasps my hand instead. While I panic, Lucien brings the teacup in my hand to his lips and takes a sip.

Lucien: Yes, very sweet. 

-

[ CHAPTER FOUR ]

It takes an hour for us to leave the matchmaking temple. Holding a red perfumed sachet in my hand and two red strings, I pull Lucien along with me under the peach tree in the backyard.

I recall my experience in the matchmaking temple earlier, where we got a red perfumed sachet instead of a light pink one like how previous people did. The staff explained that single people get a pink sachet while lovers get a red one. They also wished us a happy relationship that will last a hundred years.

While I stare dazedly at the red sachet in my hand, Lucien thanks the staff.

Remembering the way he had smiled at the sight of the red sachet, I am a little embarrassed and my cheeks turn red. Following the other visitors, I tie the first red string we obtained from the temple onto one of the tree branches and am about to reach for the second one when Lucien stops me. 

Lucien: Here I was, wondering why you were trying to take my red string away. So this is the reason...

MC: ...the staff told me that if I tie the strings together, the gods will see it more easily! Besides...

Before I can continue, I shut my mouth. When two people tie their strings together, it signifies 以树为媒，天地作证“ (i.e. take the trees as your matchmaker, heaven and earth will bear witness to your union).

Lucien: Besides...?

MC: It’s just a better guarantee that the gods will notice it!

Lucien: But you seem to be missing something.

Lucien places his red string into my palm.

Lucien: This red string of mine - would you be willing to help me keep it?

I panic at his words and Lucien laughs, pulling away.

Lucien: All right, I won’t tease you. 

There’s a commotion from a group nearby, and I wonder if it’s the famous “affinity stone” they’re looking at. 

The affinity stone is the other attraction of the mountain aside from the matchmaking temple, and it is said to bless people with good marriage affinity. 

Lucien nudges me lightly towards the group. 

Lucien: Let’s go over and see.

We queue up for a while and finally reach the affinity stone. After a moment, Lucien takes my hand. 

Lucien: Aren’t you going forward to pray?

I think for a moment, then shake my head.

MC: Better not. Too many of my wishes have already come true today. The gods might think that I’m too greedy.

MC: Actually, before we came here, I visited the palm reader. He said my marriage affinity line is too faint to be seen, but he also said afterwards that the red string of fate tying people together is invisible too.

MC: But now, I feel like I understand. Fate has always been something mystical and cannot be changed - only treasured. Am I right?

After saying these words, I try to dispel my negative thoughts. But Lucien makes a thoughtful expression.

MC: Lucien, do you want to offer a prayer? Ah, what nonsense am I saying? You’re a scientist, so you probably don’t believe in any of this....

Lucien: It’s not because of the reason you’ve mentioned. It’s just that in my opinion, there’s no need to do such a thing.

The wind blows. At this moment, many butterflies suddenly flutter over to the peach tree we are standing under. I reach out to touch a butterfly, and Lucien imitates me. A butterfly lands where our fingertips touch.

MC: Lucien, look! So pretty.

Lucien: Who says affinity is invisible? Before me right now, isn’t affinity made visible? 

He looks at me with calm certainty and sincerity in his eyes. 

-

After visiting the affinity stone, I begin to tie a decorative chinese knot.

Lucien: What are you tying?

MC: I’m making something that can be worn on the wrist, although I don’t know if it’d turn out well. 

Lucien: I'm looking forward to it. However, do you not have enough strings? Why have you taken mine as well? 

MC: ...I wanted to make one for you too!

Lucien: But as far as I’m aware, a red string with a knot to be worn around the wrist has a special meaning.

MC: I-is... is that so?

Lucien: If lovers wear them, it symbolises “lifelong love”. But if a single person wears it, it means “peace and safety”. This time, which should I believe?

MC: Err...

Upon seeing my stunned face, Lucien simply laughs and reaches out to poke me gently on the nose.

Lucien: It’s alright. I just couldn’t resist teasing you. You don’t need to...

Before he can complete his sentence, I stand on my tiptoes and kiss him on the cheek lightly. 

Lucien’s eyes go wide, and his smile deepens. Heart racing, I say in a voice just loud enough for the both of us to hear:

MC: The first meaning!

-

[ CHAPTER FIVE ]

Since it’s getting late, Lucien and I head back down the mountain path. I take out the “Lover’s Knot” that I made earlier using the strings from the temple, and place it in Lucien’s hand.

MC: This one is done! Here, see if it fits.

The knot isn’t very fancy or elaborate, but it contains all my sincerity. The other half-completed knot is clutched tightly in my own hand.

Lucien: This knot...

Has he seen through me?

[Note from Red: no shit mc you’re as subtle as a wrecking ball in a china shop]

Smiling, Lucien slips the knot onto his left wrist very carefully.

Lucien: It fits very well. You did a good job. Compared to the peace knot you made the last time, you’ve improved a lot.

MC: That was my first time!

Lucien: Did you have a lot of practice?

MC: Instead of practicing, I discovered the secret to making a good knot! The secret is... when you make the knot, you have to think about the person who’s going to be wearing it! That way, your thoughts and feelings will be woven into the knot!

Lucien: Did someone tell you this secret?

MC: I really can’t hide anything from you! Actually, I asked the old grandmother to teach me a little earlier. She said that “two strings tied together are called a ‘knot’. The fate of two people tied together is also called a ‘knot’. The ‘Lover’s Knot’ is not just a decoration, but symbolises love and longing between two people.

Lucien: So, it holds much meaning. Thank you for telling me.

When our gazes meet, it’s as if the world has fallen silent, leaving nothing but the echo of our heartbeats. The scenery around me seems to lose all colour, except for Lucien and the red fruit of the ormosia hosiei trees.

[Trivia from Red: They are also called love seeds, symbolising love and fidelity. In countries such as China and Taiwan, men often give these red beans to their lovers as an expression of commitment. It’s also a cultural belief that if married couples put six red beans underneath each of their pillows, their love will remain throughout eternity.]

MC: “Love seeds embedded in ivory dice, my yearning for you engraved into my bones...”

Even though I say this softly, it reaches Lucien’s ears. His eyes are wavering, and he seems to have been caught off guard by my words. I realise what I just said aloud and hurry to clear up the misunderstanding.

MC: It’s just a quote I really liked when I was a student! I even wrote it down on a bookmark! I just said it aloud when I saw the scenery...

Lucien doesn’t say a word, and only smiles at me. After a few moments, he speaks.

Lucien: Do you have any inspiration for the next episode yet? 

I nod at first, but shake my head afterwards.

MC: About the legend of the matchmaking temple, I’m not sure which is the best angle to approach it... There are people who love each other till they die, and there are also people who carry the love of another person as they walk alone. Doing either requires courage, but as you said, both cannot be differentiated...

Lucien: If you don’t know how to approach it, how about thinking about it from a different perspective, or finding new inspiration? Would you be willing to listen to my suggestion?

MC: Of course!

Lucien: As you were saying earlier, when two strings are tied together, they form a knot. When tied on the wrists, they hold two people together.

MC: What you’re saying is that love is what ties people together? That it’s something like the red string of fate?

Lucien: Even if two people aren’t together, their mutual longing for each other can be felt through the string of fate that connects them.

Lucien picks up one end of the knot tied around his wrist. With the other hand, he takes the end of the string in my hand.

Lucien: When tied together by fate, even if separated at the ends of the world, it will never break. 

[annhellsing]

A Hundred Demons

notes: i accidentally deleted my other naraku fic so have some uhhh questionable romantic liaisons rating: teen, there’s some making out but nothing heavier pairing: naraku / reader word count: 1,796

You pry up the cellar door and flinch at the smell of decay. The castle festers at its core, exacerbated by Naraku’s transformation.

He detests this state, but the struggle of holding his body together is prolonged by denying it. His most precious asset is his ability to reforge flesh, And for this process he prefers to be alone. You know that. Still, you descend.

The smell is worse with your feet in the dirt. You’re careful not to grip the ladder too tightly, should your grip make the brittle wood crumble. You closed the hatch before climbing down, the only light now from the cracks around its edges.

It’s barely enough to make out the mass in the centre of the room, but your eyes adjust. A wriggling, pulsing thing blinks it’s single eye. Then, another tendril uncoils slowly, as if in sleep. Knotted together and writhing as one are a hundred demons.

At their centre is his head, bowed in sleep.

You feel a lurching sensation, a knee jerk reaction to the dirt in the cellar. It feels like old, dried blood beneath your feet. The corruption has seeped into the support beams of the cellar. You doubt the place would stand on its own if not for his magic.

Blinking slowly, you wait for the head to notice you. A demon’s maw lolls open, it’s fleshy tongue poking out at you before it also succumbs to sleep. Naraku’s body twitches unnaturally, and then his true head finally moves.

You see two red eyes beneath his black fringe. His skin is so pale, white in the shadows like a death mask. He sneers in your direction, seeing nothing but darkness and the faint outline of a person.

“Kagura?” he snarls. His eyesight is poor when he’s in pieces. Naraku inhales sharply, recognizing the new blood that woke him is human.

“No,” you reply, “it’s me.”

“Hm,” he grunts. It’s difficult to tell if he’s still angry. “I did not summon you.”

You shift your weight to your hip, hazarding to step closer. No doubt he’s irked at his sleep being interrupted, but you understand that his desires are always a double-edged sword. Regardless of your actions, it’s his natural state to be displeased.

“I missed you,” is the only excuse you can offer. 

You half expect him to dismiss it as pathetic, but instead Naraku hides his shock beneath a grimace. 

“I didn’t think you were foolish enough to disturb me as I regenerate,” he finally tries, though it lacks the bite you know he can have.

“I didn’t mean to disturb you,” your chin is still raised to look at him. But Naraku understands that it is at once both practical and an act of defiance. Despite that, he can’t bring himself to lash out.

Instead, he laughs. It’s like dark water, pulling you in a few more steps. You’re lulled into a half-way sense of safety, worried less for your own bodily health. Perhaps it’s too soon, you fear. But Naraku seems unwilling to pin you with cruelty.

“Of course, I suppose I am the one who disturbs,” he says, “at least, for the time being.”

His cheeks are gaunt and heavy bags hang under his eyes. He looks tired, his voice is barely more than a reedy breeze. He creaks more than he speaks. You move even closer, until your toes touch the edge of the mountain of demons.

Naraku’s head is supported by a nexus of thick, gray tubes. His hair is entwined with the cellar rafters. He is hideous, you can admit that, and yet you shake your head.

“Do I not terrify you?” he asks, sounding more amused than shocked or angered by your lack of reaction. He does so love fear. “Most can’t bear to look.”

“Have many people seen you like this?” you ask, cocking your head to the side. You kneel on the body of the demon at your feet, using it as a stepping stone to get to the second.

Naraku makes a dismissive noise, unwilling to grace your question with an answer. He lacks one that will prove his point, and that annoys him.

“I thought as much,” you reply, “Kagura’s opinion hardly counts, in that case.” The demons are foul to the touch, but you manage to climb them one by one. Naraku stays terribly still as you do so, waiting and watching to see what you’ll do. 

“And yours does?” he asks. A hint of thank ink-black, cruel humour creeps into his voice again. Still, you don’t flinch. He wonders if you might wish to hear him laugh again.

“Generally yes,” you kneel on the back of a sturdier demon, your eyes at level with his. “As I’m your lover,” you’re close enough for him to smell your blood, and the hummingbird beat of your heart. 

You’re fragile, he thinks. But then again, so is he. And you’re looking at him with the worst kind of adoration a creature like him can fathom. Still, in his chest that’s now in pieces on the cellar floor, his heart that was once human lurches in your direction.

“You make a compelling argument,” Naraku decides. There is still a sharpness in his eyes, and it comes from ugly fear. You’re close enough that in a single, violent motion he could be dead. And your knife could be bloody.

But you keep your hands on your knees, looking at him with your head tilted. You move slowly, as if you know exactly what he’s afraid of. Maybe he has a right to be unnerved by this, but that won’t make you stop.

You lift your hands and put them on his cheeks, wiping dirt and grime from his face. His thin lips turn up into a smirk. He is a monster, a hateful, terrifying beast of hell and still you lean in to kiss him.

Your lips are human and soft. You’re warmed through, not disquietingly clammy the way he is. But you seem not to notice. You seem to reach through the haze of evil energy and the smell of decay to find the spark of heat belonging to Onigumo. That bit of life that makes you love him so.

He drags his tongue across your bottom lip, demanding out of habit that he be granted entry. Naraku gets what he wants, he’s used to that. So when you press your mouth closed, making a tight seal that his sharp teeth can’t break-- his eyes open.

“Did you come here only to torment me?” he asks, pulling away enough to be coherent. But he’s still so close.

He’s never felt more like an insect than when chasing your warmth. Naraku has looked on at moths flying headlong to their death, toward fire and now he understands why. It’s addictive, your humanity. It’s like a song that he could fall into.

He wishes he had arms, that’s what the longing in his displaced chest is telling him. He’ll wrap you up and keep you with him for hours when he’s finished remaking his body. And you won’t be able to deny him a thing.

But for now, you look at him with an amused expression he does not appreciate. You have ideas above your station and too little fear for his taste. At least, until you press your lips to his again.

It seems you grant him permission to deepen the kiss now, though he doesn’t know what’s changed. He’s the same as he was a minute ago, just as breathless and horrible to behold. Perhaps you simply wanted to prove you could control him.

That thought is simultaneously gut-wrenching and delicious. Naraku doesn’t know which is worse.

The smell of rot doesn’t register as pervasively, you notice. You put your hands in his long, black hair and drag his severed head against your mouth. Your fingers brush gray-mottled tendons and pale flesh. 

He’s making decisions about which parts of him to keep even as he accepts your kiss, but he’s working a lot slower than before you arrived.

You have a nice time ruining his solitary confinement, sneaking kisses over his cold flesh. You try your best to warm him, he realizes, and the sentiment is unhelpfully pleasant. He loses count of how many times he needs to reconsider his decision to discard part of himself, you’re a beautiful distraction.

“I’m inhibiting you,” you say when you finally pause to breathe. He mirrors the action, struck very suddenly by how distant the need to do so was with your mouth to his jaw.

“Deeply,” he replies.

“My apologies,” you say, bowing your head. “I really did miss you.”

“If it would please you,” he begins, making you lift your head, “you may stay a while longer.”

“It would please me,” you reply. You kiss the corner of his mouth, moving too quickly for his poor vision to see. “I’ll be still as a mouse so you can be done sooner.”

Naraku closes his eyes, taking a deep breath before nodding. You can feel a shift in the cellar as he goes back to sleep. So much for parting remarks, you suppose. But he isn’t one for affection, especially not when vulnerable.

You sit back on your knees, watching his severed head hang from the rafters. And the sight, to your intense displeasure, inspires no fear. You know what he is, who he is, and still you make yourself comfortable.

Somewhere in the space between Naraku regrowing his neck and shoulders, you too succumb to sleep. The dark, cool cellar fades away, as does the smell of rot. You lean against the old wooden wall, the demons underfoot don’t bother you.

By nightfall, he’s finished. And you, his lover, lie curled up on the packed earth. His body is as it was, but now it’s much stronger. He feels better, more in control and sturdy. As much as he would like to look down on you with vague disgust brewing in his now rightly-placed heart, he can’t.

You’re roused hours later, somewhere just as dark but less oppressively macabre. You’re not in the cellar any more, you know by the smell. The wet, old air is cleaner in this new place.

Your fingers brush the floor, no longer made of packed earth. It’s tatami, you realize, the same tatami found in Naraku’s private chamber. 

Sitting up, you realize how warm you are in this new place. Even in the blue-dark, you can’t feel anyone else’s eyes on you. You’re alone. 

You look down next, wondering what’s covering you. You didn’t bring anything when you climbed down the ladder. But thrown over your chest, undisturbed by your heavy sleep is a white cloak of baboon fur.

[scribeofmorpheus]

Himmeløyne [23/?]

Pairing: Loki Odinson x Reader

Catch Up Here | Masterlist

Warnings: Angst???

A/N: Please check out my original story, The Abstract Dark (previously: Our Lady of Darkness), for some spooks, a little witch-craft under moonlight, and terryfying vampyre-like things! (18+ mature content)

Taglist is open! Reblog, comment or leave a like please ☺

~Y/N

The armour took the brunt of the impact as soon as the portal blinked out of existence, seizing the world of Verdenspeil in a swirl of oblivion.

A grunt left your throat, then your ears picked up on Baldrick’s noise of discomfort—he had landed on his arm funny, but nothing seemed broken.

“Are you okay?” you helped him to his feet.

The boy nodded, eyes fixed on the fallen dagger a few paces across the room.

There was a pedestal in the centre of the room, a keyhole of a four-pronged star in the centre made for the dagger on the floor—the dagger Sigrid gave you.

You stood up to take a better look at Mímir’s Tomb. The circular room gleamed silver and gold from the armours of giant statuesque figures chained onto open tombs built into the walls. Their design was similar to the Valkyrie armour you now wore, only cruder from warring, from wear and tear. That revelation gave you pause for concern, if there were signs of use, there may be signs of the life that once inhabited the armour.

Baldrick walked over to the dagger, then on his tippy toes, wedged it into the keyhole slot and turned it counter-clockwise. Just as Sköll and Hati chase after the sun and moon in endless circles, the room began to turn like a drum racing downhill.

The spinning was so intense you feared you’d throw up. Baldrick held onto the pedestal and kept his eyes shut. From the ceiling, a contraption lowered a stone platform. As it descended, the room began to stop spinning, and the armoured figures began to stir.

“Baldrick,” you ushered him close to you, shielding him with your arm as he grabbed your cyan blue cloak that swept the floor. The swish and swing of blades being drawn emanated from the sheaths of the armoured figures.

You swallowed, holding your breath. Fingers birthing blue aura in anticipation of a fight. Then, with a loud and deafening thud, the platform locked onto a triangular dip in the floor, a head floating in a curtain of magic and light.

One armoured figure took a step, and as you raised your hand defensively, Baldrick whispered: “No.”

The armoured figure cluttered to the floor, scattering into hundreds of pieces—as did all the others. A helmet rolled to Baldrick’s feet, ornate, a golden set of horns shaped like an elk’s. With childish wonder, fear wiped off his face and he picked up the helmet and put it on, turning to smile with bright teeth at you.

You laughed, unexpectedly and wholeheartedly. It was a rare gift to see pure, unrestrained joy come from nothing. This little boy in front of you carried a connection, his magic made a home in yours, made itself feel like it had been there for years, like it was beyond familiarity. You knew he was manipulating your emotions, perhaps without even realising it, but for some inexplicable reason, you weren’t worried.

The wisps of your magic died down, then the head spoke: “I’d recognise that magic anywhere… You’ve been touched by the Stone of the Ancients.”

You turned to the head, an opal gemstone for one eye, and sky blues like your own for the other. His hair was grey and long, worn with Viking braids and beads knotted on the ends of a few dreaded strands. His beard was thin and braided, tribal tattoos on either side of his temple in the form of roots of the World Tree.

“Mímir,” you said.

“The one and only,” he winked. “Come closer, let me have a better look at you. My eyesight isn’t what it was, being locked away in the cold dark for over a millennia will do that to you.”

You and Baldrick moved closer to Mímir’s line of sight.

“Your eye, it is as mine,” you said.

“A gift from my sister,” he said with a wistful tinge. His focus turned to Baldrick with interest. Recognition. “You, boy, I know you—of you. Your essence is blindingly radiant. So much power for such a small thing. Frightening. World spanning. You—Yes! It is you that I dreamt of all those years ago—you will war with the brother. You will be the Herald of Twilight. Herald of the end!”

Baldrick did not react to the words that he heard, he only blinked slow, lethargic with growing fatigue.

You instinctively wrapped a protective arm around the boy's frame, taking a step back. Mímir turned his sights back on you, squinting. “And you… You are the last of the Himmel Kvinner. Your fate will be that of tragedy and truth. Love and despair. Life and the expanse of space between living and death. You are the Forgotten One.” He quieted in contemplation, sighing deeply with burden. “I see. Yes, I see now. The prince… he sleeps, does he not?”

“H-How do you know that?”

Mímir smirked, “My knowledge is infinite. I see all. And I see nothing. That is why the Allfather trapped me here. Once, I could see through the very weavings of time itself. Beyond realms. Beyond the limits of my body. Now I see remembrances of what I once dreamt. I am but a fraction of what I was. But even beheaded, I am still the wise Mímir, the first to drink from the well of knowledge. The first to be granted the vision of the Stone of the Ancients. The last pureblood heir to the House of Bölþorn the Just.” At the invocation of his house and title, Mímir’s skin turned to a proud, Jotun blue and then back to pale.

“Then you know of a way to wake him?”

“I see patience is lost on you. A millennia and my first guests cannot even humour an old man the chance to goad.” The head laughed, bemused by your dismissal of his grand introduction. “Very well. No, I cannot help you, but I keep the one who does.”

“What do you mean by keep?”

“Her reliquaries, your boy here immobilised them just by thinking it.”

“The statues?”

“Yes. Twenty-seven suits of armour for the twenty-seven pieces of my sister that Bor hacked with his axe.”

“Your sister?”

“Bestla.”

“Bor did that to Bestla? I thought they were lovers. Why would he do that his own wife?”

“Wife?” Mímir shouted the word as if it were a preposterous thing. “Ha! Is that the spin the Æsir are using now? Wiping away the blood from their history books, I see. Bestla was never Bor’s wife! Not by choice. She was his peace treaty. His flesh and blood armistice with the Jotuns after the Dark Alliance threatened to end the war; with him on the losing side!” His real eye flashed, lips moving with no sound. A spell had been cast. “I’ll let her speak for herself.”

Torches burst in blue flame. Suddenly, Jotun script burned to life, etching itself into the wall beside the moving tapestries of what could only be living history.

“It has been a long time since I ever saw our histories unfold on these walls,” Mímir sighed, half sadness, half gratitude. “It will be a refreshing change of pace, having someone know of the true story.”

Baldrick, drawn to the magic, began to read aloud, his tongue picking up the Jotun language with fluency. Dust, once housed in the shattered pieces of armour, began to materialise into a cloud. It roped around the room in an orb-like shape, drawn to you like a moth to flame.

Then, after Baldrick read the final inscription aloud, a piercing pain brought you to your knees. The mark of Odin sparking with life, a scream leaving your lips. Somehow the mark was interfering with the spell Baldrick had just unknowingly cast.

“Oh, no-no-no-no!” Mímir panicked. “You were marked. Quick, boy, grab one of the reliquary’s swords and hold it over the flame. Sorry, lass, but this will sting, we have to sever the mark’s connection to Odin’s magic.”

Baldrick rushed to do as Mímir said, his little feet working hurriedly. When he reached you, the sword that was too big for his grip glowed with the heat of the blue flames, threatening to bring a whole new kind of pain

“What will happen to me once the Ægishjalmar is gone?” you squeezed the raw muscle near your mark. Your mind flashed to the battle in the throne room again. To the frostbite of unbridled power.

“I know what you fear. I saw the battle in the throne room. I saw what you became because of Odin’s magic. The power you wield will be your own, I assure you, lass.” Mímir’s cadence was truthful, assured.

“Will it be dangerous?” you asked. “My magic?”

“All magic is dangerous, lass. The sooner you embrace that, the sooner you find balance.”

Baldrick searched your expression, needing to know whether to proceed or not. With a bitter taste in your mouth—partly for not wanting him to have to do something so hard, partly for your own sake—you bit down on a belt strap and nodded.

The burn was subliminal compared to having Odin’s passive magic seared out of you. It was like having a piece of you stolen without ever realising it was there to begin with. When the smell of burning flesh diffused, and the blade dropped to the ground, you felt dizzy, not as sober as before.

The magic that was denied to complete itself before was now free to continue without the resistance of Odin’s magic. The dust from the reliquaries wasn’t dust at all, they were ashes, the vestiges of Bestla.

The ashes coalesced into a physical mimicry of Bestla—and she looked every bit as fierce and beautiful as she had in the book. Tall, strong arms, midnight hair, long and thick to her tailbone. The red of her Jotun eyes was diluted, cloudy. And the tribal markings painted on her face and arms was of a powdered white. She was a vision. Demanding. Anomalistic.

“Ahhh,” Bestla breathed in deep, taking in air till her lungs promised to burst. “It has been ages since I felt the cold. The air. Light.” She laughed in glee. Slightly mad, but she was excused of that twistedness.

“And it is good to see you again, dear sister,” Mímir laughed.

Bestla turned quick on her heels, a stretch to her cheeks from her growing smile, “Mim? I never imagined I’d ever see you again.” She crossed over to his side of the room in two quick strides. Her fingers hovered over the jewel he had in one of his eye cavities. “Who did this to you?”

“Your son,” he said, downcast.

Bestla let out a contemplative hum, not in the least surprised, “So, he turned out just like his father.”

“I tried my best, but he had too much of his father’s pride, too much of that Æsir spirit.”

The giantess turned to you and then the boy, “You have finally come.”

You staggered to your feet, patience fully wilted, “It seems, every portal I jump through, every new world I discover, and every new person I meet, knows of what I am and what I will do before I do. I must admit, it is quite frustrating.”

“I can only imagine. You travelled all this way for hope, for a way to wake the one you love. Love… It has been a while since I felt its aura. It is beautiful on you. And waning. As is the construct of time,” Bestla closed the distance between the two of you, her height seeming doubled from up close. You opened your mouth to speak, but she countered with a raised hand. “Yes, I know of a way to wake him.” She waved her hand and your memories of the throne room battle were pulled from your mind, displayed in illusions of light and shadow. “When Odin cast the incantation, he unleashed your full potential. That potential is as mine was, once.” She waved her hand again and the illusion turned to that of a blue box, slithering with light. The Jotun Artefact that gave you your power. “This is the Stone of the Ancients. One of six. My people guarded it for generations. Its essence was intertwined with the very fabric of Jotunheim, as a heart does to a body, so when the Æsir stole it from our temples to use as a weapon against the Vanir during the First Great War, our planet fell to ruin. Ruin and endless winters.”

The illusion showed the decimation of spring and summer from the unimaginable beauty of a Jotunheim you had never seen before. A Jotunheim of peace and vibrancy that was all wiped away for the frozen tundra you knew all too well.

“You mean… it was Bor that started the war between the Giants and the Asgardians?” you asked.

“Aye, lass, the very same Tyrant King,” Mímir said. “Your dark prince isn’t the heir to a murderous legacy, he is the heir of the wronged. Heir to desolation as long as the Stone of the Ancients is never returned to Jotunheim.”

“Is that why I was lead here? You want me to help you restore Jotunheim?”

Bestla and Mímir shook their heads. You knew that look. It was the look of loss.

“No, dear one, Jotunheim is lost. Forever.” She said. “Fate is a tricky thing. My brother has seen how I meet my end, and I require you to do so. I swore to have my revenge, and I will, with your help.”

“If… If I help you, you will show me how to wake Loki?”

“You already know how to,” Bestla waved her hand and replayed the moment after energy ripped from your body. Then you were gurgling on the ground, hand stretched out to touch Loki’s as he bled on the floor. Breath hitched. Pained. And then you saw something new, the magic took over your body for a moment, and free from Odin’s spell, you spoke an incantation of your own. Slivers of your magic swimming across the marble floors to latch onto Loki’s fingernails and swim up the stream of his veins to rest around his cheeks.

Baldrick’s mouth pried open, a Jotun word leaving his mouth.

Bestla continued speaking as the illusion dissolved to the image of Loki hovering on a gold curtain of light in the healing chamber: “You saved his life. Our magic, our connection to the stone is primal. It is instinct and memory and emotion. That is why I cursed the Stone before I was locked in those reliquaries. I ensured only those who would understand my pain, the depths of my betrayal, would gain the stone’s power—women. And when Odin hid the stone on earth, he never imagined it would infect those on Midgard as it did to my people. But I never imagined he’d use that as a way to experiment on the women, to make them his weapons of destruction against my own kind, all the while making them believe they were chosen. God kissed. But if he never did, then you wouldn’t be here now. Like I said, fate is a tricky thing.

“When you reached for your prince—for Loki—you weren’t simply praying to no-one, you were praying to the stone. And it heard you. So it placed him in a deep slumber as it healed him from within, but the physical was not all that was damaged. Loki is a fraught boy. Torn apart by two halves that will always be at war. And in that throne room, one half finally won, and to him, it was the wrong half. The monster he was taught to hate. The monster all children are taught to fear: the Giant. I know of a spell that will allow you to enter his mind and bring him back, but like all things—”

“It comes with a price,” you weren’t the least bit surprised, but being a pawn in everyone else’s plans was becoming a thorn in your side. “And if I refuse?”

Bestla gave you an apologetic look, “Child, I said fate was tricky, I never said we got to choose.” She waved her hand one last time, and suddenly you were levitating from the floor, vision going black, ears ringing.

“Do not fret, when you awake, the answer will be as familiar to you as walking,” Bestla promised. “For familiar magic tends to want to be understood.”

Then, nothing. Just black and hard floor.

  ~Heimdall

When Heimdall and the rest of his companions reached the side of the mountain where the entrance to Mímir’s Tomb was, it was already sunrise the next day.

Moving his hands close to one another in the way of the old ways, he spoke in his native Vanir tongue, using blood to smear his handprint on a circular plate centred on the door.

In short order, the doors pried apart in slow motions, dust and the smell of ancients flooding out of the tomb.

“There is a chance the protection seals are still in place, enter with caution, and with weapons drawn,” he told the others as they disappeared into the maw of the tomb.

Heimdall gasped when he saw the reliquary statues broken to pieces. Whoever had done this possessed strong magic, but it couldn’t have been Y/N’s, she was still weak from the leeching, still new to her power. The pedestal where Mimir’s head had been laid to rest was bare, no sign of the one-eyed prophet anywhere.

“He’s gone,” he said.

“Mímir? How? It’s not like a head can just sprout legs and walk away,” Fandral said. “I must say, I am a little disappointed. Missing the chance to see one of the last living survivors of the Great War, it does sting a little. Imagine all the secrets her held.”

“Could we have trusted them?” Sif said with some restraint, nowhere near as enthusiastic as Fandral. “He was locked away for a reason. Probably because he was dangerous.”

“And now he is gone,” Volstagg said.

“A problem for another day,” Heimdall said.

“Over here!” Hogun shouted from a dark corner of the room, behind the centre pedestal, dagger locked in place. “I found them.”

“Them?” Sif ran in Hogun’s direction and Heimdall followed.

On the floor was Y/N, out cold, but alive. Her essence was changed, almost exonerated of another’s influence, yet not completely alone. There was something else banging around in the softest, more quiet parts of her magic. Something new. He noticed then that her brand was cauterised from her flesh. Next to her was a boy, strange, bearing a hefty presence. He was the wielder of the magic that destroyed the protective seals on the reliquaries. For someone so young, that was unfounded. What was his connection to Y/N, Heimdall wondered.

He picked her off the floor while Hogun carried the boy. With ease creeping into his chest, he said, “Let’s go home.”

[saurons-pr-department]

I was a bit confused about Tom Bombadil and I read somewhere that he was a rapist? Is this true ?

Hey anon, I think I've heard this being mentioned before. It's related to a section in the poem I've put under the cut (The Adventures of Tome Bombadil). I've highlighted the relevant spot. I'll admit, that bit doesn't sound great (it's about how he caught Goldberry), but like, the poem also involves him getting captured by a tree and then some badgers and then a wight, so like... I don't know how much normal, everyday logic we're expecting here... She also catches him at the start of the poem and address him by name, so she seems to already know who he is. We're given no context for their relationship and we're not given much in the way of details about the whole matter other than this poem-ified version of events.

I don't know about anyone else, but for me, saying that he's outright a rapist, sounds like an overly literal reading of fantasy poem, you know?

(Also, so for asking if this was a real ask, it just came out of no where and I was afraid it was someone just trying to start shit XD)

Old Tom Bombadil was a merry fellow; bright blue his jacket was and his boots were yellow, green were his girdle and his breeches all of leather; he wore in his tall hat a swan-wing feather. He lived up under Hill, where the Withywindle ran from a grassy well down into the dingle.

Old Tom in summertime walked about the meadows gathering the buttercups, running after shadows, tickling the bumblebees that buzzed among the flowers, sitting by the waterside for hours upon hours.

There his beard dangled long down into the water: up came Goldberry, the River-woman’s daughter; pulled Tom’s hanging hair. In he went a-wallowing under the water-lilies, bubbling and a-swallowing.

‘Hey, Tom Bombadil! Whither are you going?’ said fair Goldberry. ‘Bubbles you are blowing, frightening the finny fish and the brown water-rat, startling the dabchicks, and drowning your feather-hat!’

‘You bring it back again, there’s a pretty maiden!’ said Tom Bombadil. ‘I do not care for wading. Go down! Sleep again where the pools are shady far below willow-roots, little water-lady!’

Back to her mother’s house in the deepest hollow swam young Goldberry. But Tom, he would not follow; on knotted willow-roots he sat in sunny weather, drying his yellow boots and his draggled feather.

Up woke Willow-man, began upon his singing, sang Tom fast asleep under branches swinging; in a crack caught him tight: snick! it closed together, trapped Tom Bombadil, coat and hat and feather.

‘Ha, Tom Bombadil! What be you a-thinking, peeping inside my tree, watching me a-drinking deep in my wooden house, tickling me with feather, dripping wet down my face like a rainy weather?’

‘You let me out again, Old Man Willow! I am stiff lying here; they’re no sort of pillow, your hard crooked roots. Drink your river-water! Go back to sleep again like the River-daughter!’

Willow-man let him loose when he heard him speaking; locked fast his wooden house, muttering and creaking, whispering inside the tree. Out from willow-dingle Tom went walking on up the Withywindle. Under the forest-eaves he sat a while a-listening: on the boughs piping birds were chirruping and whistling. Butterflies about his head went quivering and winking, until grey clouds came up, as the sun was sinking.

Then Tom hurried on. Rain began to shiver, round rings spattering in the running river; a wind blew, shaken leaves chilly drops were dripping; into a sheltering hole Old Tom went skipping.

Out came Badger-brock with his snowy forehead and his dark blinking eyes. In the hill he quarried with his wife and many sons. By the coat they caught him, pulled him inside their earth, down their tunnels brought him.

Inside their secret house, there they sat a-mumbling: ‘Ho, Tom Bombadil! Where have you come tumbling, bursting in the front-door? Badger-folk have caught you. You’ll never find it out, the way that we have brought you!’

‘Now, old Badger-brock, do you hear me talking? You show me out at once! I must be a-walking. Show me to your backdoor under briar-roses; then clean grimy paws, wipe your earthy noses! Go back to sleep again on your straw pillow, like fair Goldberry and Old Man Willow!’

Then all the Badger-folk said: ‘We beg your pardon!’ They showed Tom out again to their thorny garden, went back and hid themselves, a-shivering and a-shaking, blocked up all their doors, earth together raking.

Rain had passed. The sky was clear, and in the summer-gloaming Old Tom Bombadil laughed as he came homing, unlocked his door again, and opened up a shutter. In the kitchen round the lamp moths began to flutter; Tom through the window saw waking stars come winking, and the new slender moon early westward sinking.

Dark came under Hill. Tom, he lit a candle; upstairs creaking went, turned the door-handle. ‘Hoo, Tom Bombadil! Look what night has brought you! I’m behind the door. Now at last I’ve caught you! You’d forgotten Barrow-wight dwelling in the old mound up there on hill-top with the ring of stones round. He’s got loose again. Under earth he’ll take you. Poor Tom Bombadil, pale and cold he’ll make you!’

‘Go out! Shut the door, and never come back after! Take away gleaming eyes, take your hollow laughter! Go back to grassy mound, on your stony pillow lay down your bony head, like Old Man Willow, like young Goldberry, and Badger-folk in burrow! Go back to buried gold and forgotten sorrow!’

Out fled Barrow-wight through the window leaping, through the yard, over wall like a shadow sweeping, up hill wailing went back to leaning stone-rings, back under lonely mound, rattling his bone-rings.

Old Tom Bombadil lay upon his pillow sweeter than Goldberry, quieter than the Willow, snugger than the Badger-folk or the Barrow-dwellers; slept like a humming-top, snored like a bellows.

He woke in morning-light, whistled like a starling, sang, ‘Come, derry-dol, merry-dol, my darling!’ He clapped on his battered hat, boots, and coat and feather; opened the window wide to the sunny weather.

Wise old Bombadil, he was a wary fellow; bright blue his jacket was, and his boots were yellow. None ever caught old Tom in upland or in dingle, walking the forest-paths, or by the Withywindle, or out on the lily-pools in boat upon the water. But one day Tom, he went and caught the River-daughter, in green gown, flowing hair, sitting in the rushes, singing old water-songs to birds upon the bushes.

He caught her, held her fast! Water-rats went scuttering reeds hissed, herons cried, and her heart was fluttering. Said Tom Bombadil: ‘Here’s my pretty maiden! You shall come home with me! The table is all laden: yellow cream, honeycomb, white bread and butter; roses at the window-sill and peeping round the shutter. You shall come under Hill! Never mind your mother in her deep weedy pool: there you’ll find no lover!’

Old Tom Bombadil had a merry wedding, crowned all with buttercups, hat and feather shedding; his bride with forgetmenots and flag-lilies for garland was robed all in silver-green. He sang like a starling, hummed like a honey-bee, lilted to the fiddle, clasping his river-maid round her slender middle.

Lamps gleamed within his house, and white was the bedding; in the bright honey-moon Badger-folk came treading, danced down under Hill, and Old Man Willow tapped, tapped at window-pane, as they slept on the pillow, on the bank in the reeds River-woman sighing heard Barrow-wight in his mound crying.

Old Tom Bombadil heeded not the voices, taps, knocks, dancing feet, all the nightly noises; slept till the sun arose, then sang like a starling: ‘Hey! Come derry-dol, merry-dol, my darling!’ sitting on the door-step chopping sticks of willow, while fair Goldberry combed her tresses yellow

[thiswasinevitableid]

Akshkshd any chance you’d be willing to write Indruck with prompt 8 (sfw)?

Quite willing! I decided to make it a continuation of this fill, but it can also be read as a standalone.

8. Where’s your enemy when you just watched a sad movie and need a hug?

This is simply nonsensical. 

Indrid is a supervillain, a mastermind, a force to be reckoned with.

He is not supposed to be sitting here, weepy-eyed, on his couch on Tuesday night.

After his casual phone conversation with his arch-nemesis that accidentally gave away his location, he’d assumed Duck would arrive at his hideout within twenty-four hours. That they’d banter, perhaps trade blows, before Indrid made his escape. 

Instead, he waited a full two days before receiving a vision of Duck arriving with the rest of the Pine Guard. That would not do, and so he took what he needed and blew hideout #12 to smithereens, taking up residence in hideout #33 (contingency plans are his strong suit). 

The next two times Duck foiled him, he did so with at least one other hero. The banter ceased, as did any feelings of, well, pleasure Indrid derived from the encounter. Now it was all business. He let Duck know as much by knocking him out with a special smoke bomb designed to circumvent his powers. 

Tonight was his night off, and he settled in with snacks and blankets to watch a movie. He Foolishly opted for the second film in a favorite series. It was supposed to be a western love story, but because it’s a middle film it ends with a tearful farewell between the lovers. And the third part doesn’t come out until next summer. 

He could research the studio, flit off to Los Angeles and steal the third film for himself.

Or he could roll over, hugging his round, squishy mothman pillow, and feel sorry for himself. 

Everything will be alright. In the movie, he means. The heroes will be reunited, the once-villainous one of the pair will be redeemed, and they will live happily ever after. 

That must be nice.

It would be nice.

Nice to have someone kind and brave in love with him, someone who would see him as his whole self, hold him tight and touch him. Hug him when he does silly things like watch sad movies.

When was the last time someone hugged him? Or touched him at all, for that matter? As he thinks, his mind supplies only “Duck” as an answer. It’s true, the hero touches him often enough when they fight, trying to use his strength hinder Indrid’s agility. 

Duck probably gives amazing hugs. 

Indrid wants Duck to hug him. 

No, absolutely not, he is not going down that mental path again. It will just make him frustrated at all the wrong things.

Instead, he picks up his communication pad.

The Moth: The Richardsons are hosting a gala. Anyone care to crash it? Might be some nice jewels worth stealing.

The Englishman: You git, they tapped this channel remember? That’s why the last message is from six months ago.

He groans, whacks his forehead with the pad. How is he getting so careless? Is he losing his touch? 

“That settles it.” He says to the empty living room. Holding his head high, he strides into the bedroom, wall of gadgets and disguises glinting in the dark. 

Then he bellyflops onto the bed, intending to stay there until the weekend.

-----------------------------------------------------

Duck is worried about Indrid. And not in the “what the fuck is he planning” way. The Moth was always a careful, elusive villain. But lately he’s gotten so sloppy Duck wonders if this was another cloning or mind-control scheme gone awry.

Not to mention he’s never had to thwart Indrid on a Tuesday. Minerva and the others insisted he had to take Indrid’s comment in the monitored villain channel seriously. And so he once again tracked his location, and is now standing in the entryway, alarm system blaring. No booby traps activate, and Indrid doesn’t appear.

There’s a faint groan followed by a silhouette in a room at the end of the hall jabbing a control panel angrily before laying back down. 

It has all the marks of a trap, except for a bad feeling in his gut.

He makes it to the room with no issues, finds Indrid rolled on his side on a large, black bed, his back to Duck. He’s cuddling a pillow, face pressed into it.

“Cold?”

“Go’way.” 

“Indrid, you threatened to rob the D.A’s party. I’m not goin anywhere. Plus, I’m still kinda pissed about that gas you used on me. Had a cough for a week after.”

“Oh dear, that was the least likely outcome. My apolog-” Indrid stops talking when Duck uses his SmartRope to tie him up from a distance. He glowers over his shoulder, then sighs.

“C’mon, you ain’t even gonna try to get free?”

Indrid rolls halfheartedly, over and over, until he falls off the bed, disappearing from view. 

Duck circles the foot of the bed, ready to settle into their usual rhythm. Indrid will have gotten out of the rope, be ready to spring, quip on his lips, as soon as Duck sees him…

….Or he could be still tied up, laying on the floor. 

Okay, apparently he’s captured the Moth for real.

“Off the floor, let’s go.”

“No.”

“Oh for fucks sake.” He bends down, hoisting Indrid easily into a standing position, arms around him to steady him as he gets his balance. Indrid stiffens, bracing for a roughness Duck has zero interest in showing. 

Then he sighs, so softly that Duck might have imagined it. 

Duck wraps him in his arms more firmly, draws a hand across Indrids back checking the rope.

The same noise, so quick it’s almost a chirp. 

“Indrid?” He doesn’t move his arms, inhales sharply when the villain drops his forehead to his shoulder, hiding his face against the neck of his suit, “You, uh, you okay there bud?”

“No.”

“You wanna talk about it?”

“I watched a sad movie. Now I am sad as a result. You can either leave me to my shame, or take me to your hideout that I can easily escape from.”

Duck snaps his fingers, and the rope drops to the ground. Indrid stays huddled against him. 

“You know my identity, right?”

A nod. Duck unclips his mask, makes Indrid step back as pulls off the top half of his costume, leaving him in a white undershirt. 

When he opens his arms again, he watches Indrid pause, no doubt contemplating if he ought to strike now. Then the villain turns away, embarrassed.

“This is absurd.”

“Nothin wrong with wantin a hug. ‘Specially not from me, I’m a hug master.” 

Indrid sits down with a huff, rolling so his back is once again to Duck. A hunch paws at his mind, and he gets onto the bed, lays facing Indrid. Leaves space between them, but reaches out a hand and runs it along a strip of exposed skin, Indrid’s shirt riding up from his moth-patterned pajama pants.

Indrid whimpers, not with pain but with longing, and so Duck scoots closer, keeps stroking his side. This time when he rolls over there’s no pause, no pretending. He presses as close to Duck as he can, hands knotted in his shirt and face hiding in his neck. 

He’s crying, soundlessly, the only tell the drops hitting Duck’s skin. 

“Jesus, must’ve been some movie.”

A weak laugh, “It’s not even a tragedy. But regardless, I do no wish to talk about it.”

“Don’t have to talk at all if you don’t want. I can keep quiet too.”

“No, that’s ah, that’s not necessary. In fact, I would like very much to hear you talk more. About whatever you please. I lo-, ah, I am fond of your voice.”

It should bother him, how easy it is to hold Indrid like this. How natural it feels to talk about his plants, his cat, harmless adventures from his youth. How badly he wants to apologize for whatever it is that’s making the thinner man so sad. 

The bigger storm of feeling swirling in his chest dampens any sparks of worry. The ways Indrig sighs contentedly and nestles closer sending protective, terrifyingly sharp affection prickling across his skin. 

When the villain is sound asleep, Duck slips from the bed, tucks a blanket around those narrow shoulders, and pulls his mask back on. But before all that, he plants the most covert kiss possible on Indrid’s forehead. 

The next time they meet as hero and villain, neither says a word about that night.

But neither has forgotten it. 

[moths-daily]

Moth Of The Day #132

True Lover's Knot

Lycophotia porphyrea

From the noctuidae family. They have a wingspan of 26-34 mm. They tend to inhabit heathland, high moorland and gardens. They can be found all throughout Europe.

[artificialqueens]

All To Myself (Willaska) - Albatross

AN: Friends to lovers, you know the drill.

Featuring Willam and Alaska, of course.

Special thanks to @VeronicaSanders for agreeing to beta despite our disagreements regarding epithets. And thank you to @Saiph for beta-ing as well!

Going out to the club was meant to be relaxing.

It’s a chance to cut loose. It’s a chance to forget. Alaska repeated that mantra to herself every time she went out…so why didn’t she believe it?

Most likely, she figured, it had to do with whoshe was going to the club with. One Willam Belli; known party queen and spectacle all onto herself.

Everywhere she went, attention was soon on her whether she sought it out or not. She was loud and beautiful and when dropped into a setting meant to encourage random hookups? Well, she was the star attraction as soon as she arrived, usually with her best friend in tow.

Now Alaska was by no means a wallflower. She engaged in the dancing and drinking just as easily as Willam did. The difference between them lie in when it came time to take someone home with her. For Willam it was effortless, there was no lack of offers so she had her pick, though usually there weren’t many common factors.

“Whoever looks like the most fun,” she replied casually the one time Alaska dared to ask about her criteria.

Alaska, on the other hand, usually had to work for it. She got along well with most everyone. She could be quite the charmer when she wanted to be but once it came time to ask if they wanted to leave with her, more often than not they were shocked by the proposal. Her intended partner for the night hadn’t considered that she was being anything but friendly nor that she was even interested in a hookup. The women she hit on were always unbearably kind in their denial but that only served to make her feel even worse.

Often times she asked herself if there was something wrong with her flirting.

Was it just not blatant enough?

For the few times she dared to ask for an explanation for the rejection, she noticed a common theme; too innocent looking, too nice, too eager…always too something !

She was never just enough.

But she accepted the reasons with a carefree shrug and polite smile and wandered off to try her luck elsewhere. Usually by the time of the first rejection, she could pick out Willam’s intended victim for the night. True, a lot of nights Willam never actually took anyone home. Sometimes hooking up in the bathroom or alleyway doing god knows what and then returning to Alaska’s side, but that didn’t lessen the sting as she returned to Alaska’s empty side.

Alaska often spent her time just what she was doing when off with someone else. Whythose men and women could attract Willam’s attention when she couldn’t. And of course, why after so many years of being best friends she still had this hopeless crush.

Perhaps that was her real problem, Alaska thought. Maybe it was that she genuinely didn’t try hard enough because no matter who she’d take home, they just wouldn’t be the person she wanted it to be. Sure, they might have looked enough like what she wanted; dirty blonde hair wrapped into loose curls, slim and toned under flashy clothes and flashier makeup…But still, it just wasn’t the same. Maybe, just maybe, she sabotaged herself because she knew Willam was more likely to leave with her if Alaska appeared to be alone.

Not that they ever did anything together. Alaska was certain she kept her feelings well hidden around her friend. But it was still nice just to return to a near domestic atmosphere in one of their apartments after a night out partying. They’d fall asleep laughing, watching TV, or smoking some weed. It made the rejections at the club much more bearable, practically even forgettable, just to spend a night alone with her. Willam made her smile when no one else could and helped her forget about the rest of the world, even if only for a few hours.

There were a few instances, however, when Alaska didn’t need to seek out a partner for the night. Sometimes women even approached her . They were usually of a similar type and picked up on some vibe she unknowingly seemed to be putting out. That ‘too innocent’ vibe, as others had called it. These women were looking for a particular type and to them, Alaska seemed to fit the bill. They wanted someone submissive, whether it was to coddle them or completely dominate them. But always they were damn near exact opposite of the type of women Alaska usually tried to hit on.

Alaska grew to accept this fact after a while. After all, she’d get what she wanted and they’d get what they wanted. A mutually beneficial trade. Alaska was fine playing that part, though at times it did bore her. A few caught on that she was just acting out the bit for their sake, one even commented on it, but for just a one-night stand it wasn’t anything worth going into too much detail for. It would happen again in just a few months, almost like clockwork.

And tonight was no exception. Alaska picked up on the domineering gaze being sent her way almost the instant she connected eyes first with an attractive blonde from across the bar. The stranger was a good few inches shorter than Alaska, as most women were anyway, but the difference in height had no bearing on the powerful, magnetic personality that shone through with her amused grin. Wasting no time, this confident and mysterious young woman pushed her way through the sea of people until she was at Alaska’s side.

Closer to, Alaska noticed the woman’s eyes were a deep blue-green, almost like a certain pair she’d been gazing at only an hour before. Her cocky smirk seemed to be a damn near permanent fixture on her face as she carelessly tossed away the loose wavy hair that fell past her shoulders. It was a similar tactic, one Alaska had seen Willam using quite often to ensnare her partners, and like a moth to the flame, Alaska was mesmerized. Each woman worked their charm as they chatted away but they both knew it was entirely unnecessary at this point. They’d likely be leaving together very soon if either had anything to say about it. Still, a bit of social foreplay never hurt.

Though the area around the bar itself was brightly lit, the same couldn’t be said for the clustered dance floor just a few feet away. The main lights were out and heavy, flashing strobes took their place. They’d periodically illuminate the carefree faces within the crowd for just a second before shining their light elsewhere at random. It was a tangled mess of nameless people but that was all part of the fun; dancing with strangers as the bass pounded in the speakers…It was a chance to get a little closer or to disappear, if need be.

Willam was already engaged with a number of other clubbers on the dance floor but she had kept a cautious eye on Alaska at the bar. Her companion always needed a drink or two before she was ready to bury herself amongst the crowd but Willam was confident Alaska would be joining her shortly.

What she hadn’t expected was to glance over and find her chatting up another woman so eagerly nor sharing so many drinks, if the empty glasses in front of them were any indication. This woman was far from the usual type she saw Alaska with; her heavy makeup, tight, skimpy outfit and an air of confidence to the point of coming off as arrogant. Definitely not Alaska’s type and yet there they were; near ready to seal the deal and head home with one another by the looks of it.

A vaguely possessive knot formed in the pit of her stomach as she took note of the mystery woman placing her hand over Alaska’s in an attempt to show sincerity and interest. She never seemed to let her gaze roam over Alaska’s body, seemingly thinking she’d get a chance to explore those areas soon enough, but there was also something else Willam noticed.

Something that pissed her off even.

It was Alaska’s obvious infatuation with the woman. Never had Willam seen her so taken with a potential partner right off the bat. Her gaze seemed to focus only on this stranger as she kept a shy but inviting smile stretched across her lips.

Alaska was all but throwing herself at this skank!

It was clear by the interested gleam on Alaska’s face that she intended to go home with this woman as soon as the offer was made, yet the stranger was intent on drawing this out. She was practically laying the groundwork for future hookups already though they couldn’t have met more than just a few minutes ago. As Willam studied them closely, the scowl on her face darkened. Her body was still moving in time with the throng of other club patrons but her heart was certainly not into it.

One more shot was pounded down by both women and almost immediately after they were stepping away from the bar. Willam’s heart sunk with the thought that they might be leaving now but to her sick satisfaction they seemed to be heading straight for the dance floor. Once they had immersed themselves in the sea of similarly buzzed and swaying bodies, Willam saw her chance to step in.

Alaska knew Willam was somewhere in this mix of countless people. Every so often she’d catch a glimpse of her friend dancing the night away with one stranger before turning her attention to the next but as Kat led her onto the floor, Alaska hadn’t even thought to look for Willam again. Her mind was completely focused on her intended partner for tonight, so much that she willingly allowed Kat to lead her by the hand deep into the grinding and wavering mass of clubbers.

Once they were away from the well-lit bar, it was difficult to see anything clearly through the flashing lights but every so often one would shine just enough that Alaska could catch a glimpse of the slightly blurry faces around her. The pulse of the music overtook her body and soon she was dancing as enthusiastically as everyone else. She was sure she was facing Kat for the majority of the song but after a sudden turn and number of patrons shuffling past her towards the bar, Alaska was certain she had lost her in the crowd. But only a second or two after that thought came to mind, she felt a pair of firm hands on her hips encouraging her to turn around.

Rotating her body a few degrees, Alaska found herself pressed against a shorter body once again as the strobes turned their lights away towards the other side of the dance floor. The possessiveness of the hands couldn’t have belonged to anyone other than Kat so she let herself be consumed once more by the pounding music and mutual sway of their bodies on the packed floor.

She thought she saw a glimpse of Willam’s wavy hair somewhere off in the distance but all too quickly the figure slipped away before she could confirm it. Not that Willam would have any trouble finding someone to take home, she reasoned. So she might as well push that thought from her mind, at least for tonight. She finally had someone take an interest in her that almost exactly fulfilled everything she was looking for and she would be damned before letting this one slip away tonight. In fact, she ought to get things moving along before either had a chance to lose interest.

So in a decidedly bold move, Alaska pushed herself forward and captured the lips of her partner. There was a bit of a misstep at first, her lips landing slightly off point and Kat freezing in shock but within a second all was corrected and the hands on Alaska’s hips pulled her in until there wasn’t even an inch of space left between them. Her eyes slid shut as she let herself be consumed by the moment.

The kiss itself stole away any other thought of those around them. Alaska was sure they both had stopped dancing or even pretending to but if anyone else noticed…well, who cared?

Their lips pressed together was everything Alaska could have wanted. It was expressive yet still so subdued, perhaps because of still being in a public space. But they were definitely pushing the limits of decency. If anyone could have seen them, they certainly would have gotten a show. While their hands remained chaste and above their clothing, their lips slid against one another in a slightly graceless but passionate mess. If the music were just a bit lower, Alaska was sure she would have had to hide the little mewls clawing their way up through her throat. But Kat wasn’t at all bothered by it. She eagerly swallowed every bit of sound that echoed into her mouth, even returning a few of her own in the process.

Kat’s lips were eagerly chasing Alaska’s every time she pulled away, so much that Alaska gave up any pretense of trying to tease just so that could remain connected as much as possible. Vaguely she was aware that the song was coming to an end and taking that as her cue, she broke the kiss for good. As her eyes flew open, she found that the lighting patterns of the clubs had changed to match the new, slower paced song being introduced. The strobe was still flashing away but much more languidly and somewhat brighter now.

Alaska was hardly surprised to see to that same hungry look in her partner’s eyes as she had witnessed back at the bar but strangely there was also a hint of fear…Perhaps because the eyes staring back at her were distinctly Willam’s and not Kat’s.

Each felt the world go quiet as they locked gazes for a moment. Alaska was sure her cheeks were burning and under the fading purple to red lights shining above them, she’d have bet anything that Willam’s were almost as pink as her own. Neither quite knew what to say, though Willam certainly tried. Her lips moved as though she were trying to force something, anything, out, but even if there were true words being formed, Alaska wouldn’t have heard them.

As much as she feared what would happen to their friendship after sharing that kiss, there was absolutely nothing that she regretted about it, now that she knew it’d been with Willam. Her heart fluttered in her chest with that thought even though she knew she ought to have been concerned with the fact that it wasn’t with Kat as had been her original intention.

Where was she, actually? Had she seen what had happened and left?

Alaska just couldn’t find it in herself to care at the moment.

Especially since Willam gave up any pretense of trying to speak and was now turning around. Alaska was almost shouting at her to stop until she realized that Willam’s hand was wrapped around her own and was now leading them off somewhere towards the rear of the club.

Barely aware of anyone else around them, Alaska followed closely behind as Willam pushed her way to the first opening along the back wall that she found. There she turned around to face Alaska, perhaps thinking they were far enough away from the speakers to try talking about what happened, but that wasn’t how things turned out.

As quickly as the opening appeared, once the pair was nestled in facing each other, the space around them filled up once again. Willam found herself pressed against the wall as Alaska was pushed into her thanks to someone’s elbow being forced into the small of her back. She apologized for the unintentional invasion of space but she was anything but sorry for it. Not that Willam seemed to mind it either.

There was a brief pause of hesitancy before each threw aside any notion of better judgement and allowed their lips to connect once more. Hands found their way to each other’s bodies; Willam’s resting on Alaska’s waist while Alaska’s found their way Willam’s hair. For the first few minutes there was a sense of urgency, like all of this would be revealed in just a few short seconds as a dream or a joke, but once the reality truly set in, they allowed their pace to slow into something more languid and sensual. Alaska moved a hand to tuck its way beneath Willam’s chin, tilting her head up for a better angle as she crowded her even further against the wall. Her second very carefully and very slowly slipped its way under the bottom hem of Willam’s short dress. Her fingers danced along Willam’s outer thigh but she dared not press her luck any further. For now she was content with all that was happening.

Neither was quite sure how long they spent together in that embrace but as the pair finally broke apart to check the time, the club was significantly less crowded. Willam was the first to retrieve her phone from her bra and swore once she saw the clock flashing back at her. Immediately Alaska knew that would be the end of whatever this was but to her surprise, Willam pressed one final kiss to her lips before whispering that they ought to leave.

The pair’s ride back to Willam’s apartment was exceptionally quiet. There seemed to be no small talk they could make that wouldn’t eventually lead into a discussion of the kiss and neither was quite ready to address that yet. Alaska was all too eager to head back to her own dwelling after retrieving her car but Willam shocked her by asking if she wanted to stay the night. It wasn’t an uncommon offer, not by any means, but something about it just felt oddly loaded tonight. A simple nod was all she could reply with and after a brief exchange of 'good night’, each slipped into their own dream worlds on opposite ends of Willam’s bed.

The next morning they should have talked about it, should have discussed what the kiss meant for each of them, but Willam made the independent decision to simply play it off as a product of their drinking. She teased Alaska for getting so shit-faced that she’d be willing to kiss her but Alaska’s stomach flipped and twisted with every reminder. Despite Willam’s assumptions; the enthusiasm from their second kiss that night was strictly because it was Willam , not that Alaska had mistaken her for anyone else. But Alaska was sickly grateful at having been provided with an easy, less embarrassing way out of this whole mess. She laughed off the situation much as Willam was yet in the back of her mind, memories of that kiss still lingered. But as much as she adored her friend and loved every second of that night, receiving confirmation that their kiss meant nothing would have broken her heart. She was happy just to have the experience as a fond memory rather than a painful reminder that nothing more would happen between them.

The night replayed itself in her mind more often than she cared to admit and all too frequently she imagined what it would have been like to push the boundaries even further. A part of her regretted not attempting it, if only to see how Willam would have responded, but she was sure if she had, then Willam would have ended the kiss much sooner. Still, it was her imagination and she was free to play out any scenario she liked. Though with each detail being added her guilt seemed to compound over thinking about her best friend in such a manner. Still, she felt powerless to stop it and quickly enough her fantasy world had been built up considerably.

'Might as well relive the kiss through daydreaming,’ she thought.

She was absolutely sure nothing like that would ever happen again.

Yet in just three weeks time she found herself pressed firmly between Willam’s body and her mattress. The pair had gone out again as they usually did every weekend and proceeded to drink throughout the night. This time it was odd though; neither seemed to have any interest in finding another companion to take home. They were both content to spend their evening in each other’s company and never strayed more than a few feet from one another, though quite a few did try to separate them.

Whether it was an offer of drinks or cutting in for a dance, a few of the clubbers tried their luck to pull away one of the women from the other but always after a few minutes they would return to each other’s side. Willam especially received quite a bit of this attention. She’d accept the drinks or invitation to dance with a flirty little smile but before long she’d find her way back to Alaska. Typically this was accompanied by wandering hands traveling up and down Alaska’s midsection, especially as the night wore on and her BAC rose. Not the Alaska was any more well behaved herself.

She received more than her fair share of drink offers and was soon well on her way to being as tipsy as Willam already was. Though her behavior was not quite as messy, she certainly did nothing to discourage the roaming hands. Every now and then she’d even pull her friend a little closer until their bodies were all but touching as her arms wrapped possessively around Willam’s swaying figure.

Before long the hours slipped into early morning and the girls were ready to head home for the night. Once in the backseat of the Uber it felt like all the tension they had built up throughout the evening finally broke free. With nothing left to stop them, their lips found their way to another as they rode in the backseat of the car. Hands grazed over every inch of bare skin they could reach as the pair were driven home. To his credit, the driver did his best to ignore the pair making out until they had arrived back at Alaska’s apartment complex.

Following a quick word of gratitude, the pair made their way upstairs and promptly collapsed onto Alaska’s bed in a tangled heap of limbs and ruffled clothes. There was a fiery, desperate sort of messiness to the kiss, like neither wanted to separate themselves from the other for anything short of Armageddon. Fingers wove through one another’s hair and clothing rode up far further than they should have allowed. The straps of Willam’s dress had fallen a long time ago but even still Alaska couldn’t bring herself to push away the fabric any more than how it naturally fell from Willam’s body.

At some point the pair did slow down, whether it was after Willam slipped her leg between Alaska’s or when Alaska’s hand found its way to Willam’s ass in a halfhearted attempt to pull her body closer, it was hard to say. The pair allowed their lips to travel up and down one another’s skin but neither quite dared to go any further below the collarbone. Not that that really stopped Willam from sucking a bright pink mark into Alaska’s pale skin after hearing the younger woman gasping out her name in shock.

Alaska was left squirming and aching beneath the actions but she just couldn’t force herself to beg for anything more. She wanted to. She knew she wanted to. But there was a little voice in the back of her mind screaming at her to stop before things had gone too far. Almost as if Willam had heard that voice herself, or perhaps just listening to her own, she pulled away with a guilty expression.

The fingers that had been clutched around the fabric of Alaska’s clothes flexed in uncertainty, as if she were telling herself that she needed to let go, to move away, but still unable to convince her body to follow through. Her eyes darted over every inch of Alaska’s form beneath her; from her heaving chest, flushed cheeks, swollen lips and finally her hazy, glazed over eyes. A wave of guilt washed through her at the sight and with a heavy air of regret, she murmured, “We…we need to…”

Already knowing what Willam getting at, Alaska bit back a tone of reluctance in her voice as she asked, “Should we stop?”

“Yeah,” Willam agreed softly as she withdrew to the empty space at Alaska’s side. Almost too quietly to hear, she mentioned in a doleful whisper, “Drank too much again, huh?”

It was rhetorical but Alaska wanted to answer. She wanted to argue that they hadn’t. That were only just a little buzzed and that she wanted this to happen.

But she didn’t.

She held her tongue and simply gave her friend an absent nod of agreement as they settled between the sheets to sleep off whatever liquor still remained in their systems.

But unlike the previous night they had kissed, this time, neither made a move to separate themselves until they awoke the next morning and even then there was a heavy reluctance behind their movements.

As to who awoke first it was difficult to say but each kept their arms wrapped around the other’s body for as long as they could until hunger forced them to pretend to awaken. Again, neither seemed tempted to talk about what had happened the previous night other than play it off as a drunken mistake but Alaska was not as convinced that at leastsome of what happened was solely from the influence of alcohol.

There were fleeting memories at first, followed by more solid ones, of all that she and Willam had done last night. There had been mutual air of desperate need behind their actions. An underlying tone of want and desire…and if Alaska had any doubts of how into their makeout session Willam had been, the dark hickey that appeared on her neck certainly told quite a story.

But each kept their mouth shut about those details as they pried their limbs away from one another. Alaska could have sworn she saw Willam’s eyes flicked down to her collarbone for just a second but that easily could have been her imagination. Within just a few seconds, Willam had slipped off the bed in order to claim the shower first and wipe away the traces of last night’s makeup.

As Alaska dug through her closet for a change of clothes, she wondered how long it would be until the next instance of whatever this was will occur. After all, the law of the universe practically demanded that all significant events come in threes. Not that she always put a lot of stock in those thoughts but it certainly seemed to be true more often than not. As she filled the time waiting for the bathroom to open up, Alaska mused whether the next kiss would happen inside the club or afterwards as it had been last night.

As it turned out, when it came time for the third incidence, they never even made it out of Willam’s apartment.

Only two weeks had passed and Alaska was getting a bit antsy as to when the universe would take a hand yet again and force them together. Sure, they’d gone clubbing together a few nights already but those had all ended rather routinely. There was nothing special or interesting that had happened aside from just spending the night with her best friend. Perhaps the only unusual thing as of late was that Willam seemed to have no interest in taking anyone else home with her. It was a welcome change, Alaska wouldn’t lie. But it did make her curious as to the reason.

She was sure she ought to bring up the topic but every time the opportunity presented itself, she found herself chickening out. She just couldn’t forced herself to get definitive answer, preferring instead to just pretend that she was the reason for Willam’s apparent abstinence.

It was an appealing lie, she had to admit. One she indulged herself in too much.

Maybe that was the driving force behind Alaska’s outfit choice for the night.

Typically she preferred simple clothing; something to accentuate her best features but certainly not as flashy as Willam’s taste in clothes. No, she usually wore a tight black dress or maybe a longer flowing one depending on which club they visited. Just something to show off her curves and of course, her long, shapely legs. But tonight’s outfit strayed rather far from her comfort zone; a clinging red dress perhaps an inch or two shorter than it ought to have been with slits on either side of the midsection to show off the dramatic curve of her waist. Even the top half used a cut she hardly dared to wear on most occasions; a deep, plunging neckline to accentuate her breasts with straps that seemed unreasonably thin and liable to snap at any second.

All of this had been a deliberate choice to see just what kind of reaction she would pull from Willam but as made her way over to her friend’s apartment, she was already second guessing herself.

She worried that it showed far too much for what she’d be comfortable in later or that Willam would immediately catch on to what she was trying to do. She worried that even if Willam was oblivious, she’d just end up looking like a fool at the club; like someone trying far too hard to get laid or even just to get attention.

But she was already more than halfway to Willam’s complex and there was no chance to turn back now. Maybe if she really wanted to, she could squeeze into some of Willam’s more modest outfits before they left. At least then she’d feel a bit more like herself. As she let herself into the open apartment, she gave serious thought to that option. Amidst her internal debate she noticed that Willam was nowhere in sight; not the kitchen nor the living room.

A little confused as she was sure her friend would have been ready by now, Alaska called out, “Will?”

“Bedroom!” came the immediate reply.

Shuffling towards the source of the voice, Alaska heard Willam rambling as she came out of the connecting bathroom in a cloud of sweet smelling perfume and hairspray, “Almost ready. Just need to find a pair of earrings and my clutch-”

Willam stopped mid sentence as soon as she laid eyes on Alaska. There was a stifling pause between the two as Willam drew her eyes over every inch of the outfit until Alaska was left shuffling awkwardly in place. She was sure her cheeks must have been almost as red as her dress by now. But no matter how hard she tried she just couldn’t decipher the odd expression that Willam was wearing. Her eyes were dark and her mouth almost a straight line; there was no way to tell if she approved or disapproved of the outfit.

Finding the spotlight to be too much, Alaska’s gaze shot to the ground in embarrassment. Her fingers played with the bottom hem of the dress as she awaited her friend to say something, anything to give an indication of what was going on in her head right now.

The air felt loaded with tension until Willam finally spoke in a soft, demanding voice, “Take off your shoes.”

Within a second, Alaska was complying and side stepping away from her exceptionally tall heels as Willam swiftly strolled up to her. With Willam still in her own heels, they were just about the same height for once and could finally look into one another’s eyes without any tilting or craning of their heads. There was hardly a moment’s pause after Willam stopped in front of Alaska before she felt the welcomed heat of Willam’s body pressing into hers as their lips connected.

Her hands wrapped possessively around Willam’s hips as she felt a similar pair weaving their way through the hair she had so meticulously styled for the night. The kiss had a sense of urgency, of being long overdue, despite how recent their last lip lock had been. She never wanted this moment to end; her and Willam finally kissing without any true reason or even a drop of alcohol in their systems. It was perfect; just them with all the time in the world for one another.

But all too quickly, Willam pulled back just out of reach of Alaska’s lips. Even if Willam had wanted to step away, Alaska wasn’t sure if she could have convinced her grip to loosen after sharing such an expressive kiss. Sounding quite defeated, there was a little laugh in Willam’s voice as she asked helplessly, “What are you trying to do me, Lask?”

“What do you mean?” she murmured in reply as she grazed her lips along Willam’s jawline.

Another disbelieving laugh escaped as Willam’s voice dropped to a low and soft register as she accused her friend, “You act all innocent, then show up here in this dress?…That’s not fair.”

“Could take it off if you want,” Alaska suggested in a hushed tone as she slowly leant in again to close what little gap remained.

Shaking her head, Willam warned her half-heartedly, “Don’t tempt me.”

She sounded desperate, but for what, Alaska wasn’t quite sure…but she had a few guesses.

Daring to take a chance, she asked, “Why not?”

When Willam failed to reply, instead only looking up at her with wide, questioning eyes, Alaska pressed even further, “I’m not pushing you away.”

For once, Willam was at a loss for words. She seemed to be trying to convince herself Alaska was actually being serious with her offer yet unable to believe it fully. Her gaze was torn away from Alaska’s for just a moment as she turned her attention back to the dress. Alaska could have sworn she almost saw the internal fight playing out in Willam’s head as her eyes travelled over every inch of the body in front of her.

Tucking a gentle finger beneath Willam’s chin, she recaptured the dirty blonde’s focus and placed a small, meaningful kiss to the Willam’s lips. It was brief, barely even three seconds, but all the same it took her breath away. Willam’s hand was shaking as she withdrew it from Alaska’s hair in order to slip her fingers hesitantly around the thin strap hanging off Alaska’s shoulder. She still seemed to be debating if she ought to make a further move when Alaska decided to give her a little push in the right direction.

“Gotta take care of the zipper first,” she whispered as she grazed their lips together once more.

There was absent nod given by her partner followed by a tense swallow. Then, with more resolution in her voice than either woman would have expected, Willam told her, “Turn around.”

Almost immediately Alaska withdrew her hands and spun around until her back was all that Willam could see. She felt a pair of fingers pulling against the zipper but they paused before drawing it downwards. Alaska knew Willam was still debating if they ought to take this step and held her breath as she awaited Willam’s final choice. Thankfully it wasn’t long before the telltale sound of the zipper opening filled the otherwise silent air and the tight dress became slack around her body.

As soon as Willam reached the end, Alaska allowed the material to fall away into a heap on the floor at her feet. Spinning around to face her partner, there was barely a moment to take a breath before their lips reconnected and Alaska was gradually guiding them back in the direction of the bed. Willam moved all too easily as Alaska took control and relieved her from overthinking the situation. They both were more than ready to submit their long suppressed desires tonight.

The second Willam’s legs hit the mattress, she fell onto her bedspread and pulled Alaska with her the entire way. There was a short moment of her kicking off her shoes as she inched her way further into the middle of the bed as Alaska followed closely behind. Their lips hardly left one another for more than a second as Alaska took her place hovering just inches above Willam. But before she could get comfortable in her position, Willam’s legs were clenched tightly around her hips as she forced the body above hers to roll over onto the mattress. With that Willam was quick assume her place on top all while distracting Alaska with yet another kiss, but the younger woman could scarcely bring herself to care about their positions right now.

Her main concern was simply that Willam was still fully dressed; something she wanted to remedy very soon. But as her fingers slid up Willam’s outer thigh to meet with the hem of the slinky, silver number Willam had chosen for the night, a hand caught hers and swiftly removed it. Their fingers laced together as Willam pinned the traveling hand the mattress next to Alaska’s head. Pulling away, her eyes opened to look at the panting, half naked blonde she had trapped beneath her. Her gaze travelled in an exceedingly slow fashion down Alaska’s exposed form as she murmured in appreciation, “Just look at you.”

“Is that all you’re gonna do?” Alaska challenged, “Just look?”

The question caught Willam off guard once again as she drew an immediate blank on how to respond. Her expression seemed torn between pushing forward and claiming Alaska for herself or drawing back before they had crossed that final line with their relationship. Seeing the internal struggle playing out in Willam’s eyes softened Alaska’s domineering attitude, at least for the time being. She drew her free hand up to tug at the hem of Willam’s dress and call her attention back from disappearing inside her head space.

Taking note that Willam’s full attention was back on her, Alaska whined softly as she toyed with the shiny fabric, “Take this off already.”

Nodding, Willam was quick to comply and soon the pair was left in matching states of undress. There was a pause as each let their eyes follow the curves of their partner’s body for just a moment before Willam took the lead and leant down to press another slow kiss to Alaska’s lips. There was that same sort of desperation from before behind the insistent rutting of her hips into Alaska’s. At once Alaska’s hand found its way to the small of Willam’s back and urged her to press their bodies as close as possible. The heat from their skin touching had nothing on the burning they felt deep in their cores.

By the time the two broke apart, Willam’s eyes were dark with lust and her tongue carefully poked out to run across her swollen lips. It was like she couldn’t get enough of her partner, even willing to just pass the night in only a lip lock so long as it meant being together…But Alaska had other plans.

Craning her head up to capture Willam’s lips once more, she kept the dirty blonde occupied as she easily pushed herself up from the bed into a sitting position. Willam slid all too easily into her lap, loosening her grip on Alaska’s hand in order to slip her arms around Alaska’s neck instead. As their mouths remained connected in fiery liplock, Willam’s fingers played with every strand of hair within their reach. Every so often there’d be a little tug which earned a soft moan or whine from her partner.

With her second hand now free to move about as it wished, Alaska wasted no time in using it to trace over every inch of Willam’s body. She felt so small and compliant in Alaska’s grip it was almost as if their bodies were meant to remain in this position until the end of time.

Alaska’s fingers were featherlight as they drew senseless patterns from Willam’s rib cage, down her stomach, and finally between her inner thighs to meet with the edges of her lacy panties. She was squirming under Alaska’s touch, practically whimpering even though Alaska was hardly doing anything to warrant such a needy response from her. Once Alaska chose to give in and run a finger over the covered folds of her lover, she heard a noise unlike any other she would have expected to originate from Willam of all people.

It was a desperate, needy sort of whine; the kind that almost begged to be given instructions they could submit to…one that showed just how much they ached for anything more and would comply to nearly any demand just for the reward of a small taste.

Alaska couldn’t stop herself from pulling back and teasing Willam in a soft coo, “Mm, didn’t know you could make that noise.”

Something almost akin to a growl reverberated in Willam’s throat as her cheeks flared up. Her eyes narrowed as she snapped back in a childish manner, “Shut up.”

Moving to place a series of light kisses along the curve of Willam’s neck, Alaska felt a smirk growing as she continued to taunt, “It was cute though.”

She could feel the harsh swallow under the movement of her lips as it traveled down Willam’s throat but just as she was starting to chuckle at the rather adorable embarrassment Willam was showing, she quickly felt her partner shoving her firmly back against the mattress and pinning her her hands well above her head. A shocked expression swiftly played out across her face at the change of positions and Willam wasted no time in asking rather smugly, “How cute is this ?”

Despite the supposed confidence in her voice, her eyes still shone with a tone of uncertainty. As if she weren’t sure just how far she could push Alaska before it’d be too much. Recognizing the hesitancy, Alaska let out a little breath of air she hadn’t realized she’d been holding and challenged Willam to continue with small, reaffirming nod of her head.

Even after being given the approval, Willam’s movements were slow and shaky as she repositioned Alaska’s wrists to be trapped beneath just one of her hands. It was entirely unnecessary; Alaska wasn’t struggling beneath her nor even desired to take back control but all the same Willam’s grip remained loose and lax just in case Alaska changed her mind. Her fingers trembled as they grazed over the soft skin beneath her.  There was a slight pause as she hit the material of Alaska’s strapless bra but instead of undoing the hooks, she simply continued tracing a straight line down to Alaska’s stomach.

It was here she finally slowed down to enjoy herself. At first there were only thoughtless patterns being drawn over the skin but soon enough her hand released Alaska’s wrists as she repositioned herself to place a trail of light kisses over every dip and curve she found.

The movements of Willam’s lips over her midsection, especially her hips, left Alaska squirming in place. There was so much movement that eventually Willam was forced to pin her hips to mattress and leave her to endure the soft torture for as long as Willam chose to continue it. Unlike her partner, Alaska was unashamed of the whimpers that escaped her. She let every single one of them fill the room as Willam continued her snail’s pace even lower until she was just above the elastic border of Alaska’s panties. She kissed and traced her tongue all along the edge as she glanced up to watch her writhing partner struggling to keep still.

After what felt like hours, tentative fingers were wrapped around the lacy straps and Willam cast a final look to Alaska asking for permission. The panting and frazzled blonde immediately nodded her head and helped to lift her hips as Willam removed the thin article of clothing. Sitting back up, she followed Willam’s instruction to inch herself closer to the mattress’s edge and took the chance to finally relieve herself of her bra.

Willam’s fingers rested carefully on her inner thighs as she took a moment to take in her naked partner for the first time. Each woman’s heart was beating rapidly in their chest as Willam’s line of sight finally made its way south between Alaska’s legs. Very slowly, she spread Alaska’s thighs apart until there was enough space for her work. Even with the slightly obstructed view, Alaska could see the heavy swallow traveling down Willam’s throat as she inched forward to run the first finger across Alaska’s gleaming folds. There was certainly no hiding just how much the younger woman wanted it at this moment. She was aching for any kind of touch from Willam and even the hesitant, light dip of her finger was enough to have Alaska biting her lip in anticipation.

As Willam became more confident in her exploration, Alaska could have sworn she saw Willam’s lips moving in an attempt to form words. Whether or not they ever became vocal was something she could never figure out as the blood pounding in her ears drowned out most sound. In fact she could hardly hear her own satisfied whine as Willam finally slipped the first finger into her slick heat. It was like a weight had been taken off her chest as she felt it entering her yet all the same she still struggled to breathe properly. Her face felt hot and flushed as she stared down at her partner watching her with the keenest interest.

Willam was studying her every reaction, watching for all of the telltale signs of pleasure that played out across her partner’s face. She analyzed every microexpression displayed as her finger hooked inside of Alaska and rubbed against her walls as she searched for what motions her partner seemed to enjoy the most. And not once was Alaska tempted to hold anything back. Even after just a few thrusts she begged for a second finger, something Willam complied with almost immediately. She was skilled in all that she did to drive Alaska to the edge but none of it was enough to push her over.

Willam knew exactly what she wanted to do now that she finally had Alaska in bed with her.

Her goal was to turn Alaska into the mess she’d always wanted to see and enjoy it for as long as possible. Tonight was her chance to finally have Alaska as her own and she was going to take advantage of every second. Alaska, however, was far less patient. She gave a soft whine for more but when that request was ignored she became more vocal.

“Willam,” she pleaded, her voice hitching.

For someone so hesitant in the beginning, Willam certainly wasn’t holding back any longer. She drank in every little noise that escaped from the younger blonde’s lips; all the soft mewls, pants for more, and little whines of impatience as soon as she was denied.

After so many repeated attempts at begging, Alaska was finally granted what she asked for. A teasing lick ran across her outer lips, flicking against her clit ever so softly. It was enough to have her gripping the sheets beneath her in frustration. Again she cried out for Willam to stop teasing but her compliance only went so far. She occupied her time with leaving gentle kisses and nips along the interior of Alaska’s thighs until she was shaking with a mixture of longing and desperation. Only once there was a hurriedly broken off plea for more, peppered in with distracted calls of her name, did Willam finally turn to her prize and give Alaska what she craved.

There was little teasing following this; after all, it didn’t seem possible that Alaska could turn into any more of a mess than she already was, and the younger blonde was very appreciative of this as she let out a satisfied moan. Fingers worked their way inside of Alaska with a skilled practice as Willam’s mouth remained solely focused on her clit. The methodical lapping was altered with a light hum every now and then until Alaska felt like she was fully coming apart. Her hand wove its way through the hair at the base of Willam’s head and she was sure if she stopped now, she probably wouldn’t have been able to stop herself from crying in frustration. But thankfully that thought was the furthest thing from Willam’s mind. Her eyes remained glued to Alaska’s face as she fell apart. The moment it became too much was when Willam slid in a third and final finger to brush against Alaska’s g-spot and she slipped away in bliss .

Her climax was so overpowering she was hardly aware that she was calling out Willam’s name loud enough for the neighbors to hear until the last syllable had passed from her lips. But even then Willam didn’t stop. With a gentle, caring side few others had seen, Willam worked Alaska through every second of her orgasm until she was trembling and weak beneath her featherlight touch. Only then did she withdraw and crawl back onto the bed into her former position above her partner. But far from being tired, Alaska eagerly clung to Willam as soon as she was in reach and crashed their lips together as they fell back onto the mattress.

She could easily taste herself on Willam’s lips and used it as an excuse to invade Willam’s mouth in an effort to reclaim every last drop until all that remained was distinctly Willam. But even after that, it was a struggle to break free. No part of her wanted to leave Willam’s body even if it was for something as essential as breathing.

But even as she caught her breath, the sight of Willam’s cocky smirk brought out her own snarky personality. Still panting, she taunted, “Pretty good…thought you could’ve made me cum quicker than that though.”

The comment easily wiped the smirk from Willam’s face but as she laughed out a disbelieving, “Bitch”, Alaska took the opportunity to roll them both over until she was on top and promised in mockingly sweet tone, “Now let me show you how it’s done.”

*******

As the hours slipped away, the pair curbed their activities into something more sensual and less rushed until all that remained was a satisfied exhaustion. Collapsing onto the bed in a content heap, they drifted off into a much needed sleep with their bodies barely separating from one another throughout the rest of the night. The following morning they sleepily rose from the bed and clamoured their way into the bathroom for a shared shower. It was here that they came alive once more. The hot spray of water pulled them from their drowsy state as the memories from last night flooded their minds once more. They ought to have talked about what it all meant but neither felt they had the confidence to address the issue in its entirety. Instead they let themselves be content with the lazy, distracted kisses they shared as the water splashed down over them until the chill in the air became too much to ignore.

Yet even after they reemerged and scoured Willam’s closest for a set of comfortable clothes, they still did not bring up the one topic that weighed so heavily on their minds. Certainly they were pushing themselves well past their usual boundaries this morning, nearly as much as they had last night, yet talking about it would make it seem all too real. Like it would shatter this delicate little balance they had awoken to where they were finally comfortable kissing one another. Neither seemed inclined to pull away so they let themselves enjoy these little moments for however long they would last.

The majority of the day was spent in Willam’s apartment in a sort of mock domestic bliss. Fingers would roam over bare skin, lips pressed lightly to one another’s neck, or simply just laying close together on the couch as they watched TV in silence. Their occasional chatter was hardly different than anything they’d talk about on any other day. If they allowed themselves, they could easily believe that nothing had changed but that night as they fell into each other’s arms once again, it was clear that something had. They were careful and methodical in their movements that night, each secretly sure that it’d be their last together. After all tomorrow was Monday and they’d have to leave for work and after that , who knows what would happen? So each let themselves be consumed by their passion and fully focus their attention onto their partner so that no detail would be overlooked or forgotten later on.

As the sun rose the next day, Alaska quietly slipped away from her sleeping friend and returned home to change into her work clothes and head into the office for another busy week. Try as she might, she just couldn’t stop her mind from drifting back to Willam. Should she have awoken Willam and let her know she was leaving? Left a note or text instead?

A constant pang of guilt shot through her heart every time she thought about it but nothing could be done about it now. Certainly Willam was already up by now and had noticed her absence.

And what about what would happen later on when they saw each other again?

Would they pretend it never happened? Continue on with their little charade from the weekend?

…Or would they finally talk about it?

Endless questions circled in her head until she was sick to her stomach with anxiety but thankfully her work day was almost over. Her first instinct was to drive straight to Willam’s apartment but she knew that her work day started later and she wouldn’t be home for at least another hour, if that. So regretfully, Alaska returned home and changed into a comfortable, loose T-shirt and a pair of shorts as she continued to debate what she ought to do.

Perhaps a text later on tonight would be best?

See if Willam wanted to meet up again this week and go from there?

But suddenly she was pulled from her mulling by a knock at her door. It was odd but perhaps a neighbor needed her help with something. Upon answering the door, she was shocked to find Willam standing just beyond the frame. Alaska had given her a key a long time ago along with an open invitation to use it whenever she pleased, so why knock?

But that was only something that distantly echoed in her mind. Too much of her attention was focused on just how happy she was to see Willam standing there. Her heart’s pace had picked up at just the sight and after a moment’s pause she was asking why Willam she was here. But instead of answering, the Willam simply let herself in and shut the door behind her as she stood in front of Alaska in uncomfortable silence. She seemed to be trying her hardest to force herself to say something but nothing came out. Whether it was pride or fear, Alaska was uncertain but deep down she was sure she knew why Willam had shown up unannounced.

As Willam’s eyes darted to the ground in a sort of angry, self-conscious embarrassment, Alaska’s suspicions seemed to be confirmed.

Wasting no more time, Alaska’s hands were cupping Willam’s cheeks as she reconnected their lips for a heartfelt kiss. The gesture was immediately returned and like a weight falling away from her shoulders, the tension in Willam’s body disappeared as she melted into Alaska’s touch. Hands were wrapped possessively around Alaska’s waist as she was pulled in closer until even a sheet of paper couldn’t have been forced between the two bodies.

Almost like they had done this a thousand times before, the pair fell into Alaska’s bed and laid claim to one another once more.

For all of their hesitancy and uncertainty over what their situation meant, this behavior became quite frequent over the following weeks. Neither spoke a word of it to their friends, not even a mention of their very first kiss, yet their habitual hookups quickly came to rest in the forefront of their minds whenever they went out together. This was especially true if they happened to go out with any friends that were already a couple, such as Courtney and Bianca.

Despite the intention of trying to keep up the facade that everything was the same as it always had been; a noticeable air of awkwardness was prevalent between Willam and Alaska, particularly whenever the couple across from them would exchange any sign of affection for one another. For her part, Alaska just wasn’t sure how to act around Willam. She wanted to be able to hold hands with her or at least sit closer together, but Willam was reluctant to make any physical contact in the presence of their friends. She flinched away with a startled look in her eyes every time Alaska’s hand would brush against her body. Usually this was followed up by a concerned glance towards their companions to figure out exactly how much they saw. Her only relief in this situation was that Courtney and Bianca typically spent their time focused on taunting one another relentlessly, such was the case at dinner tonight. After only five minutes it was clear to Alaska that Willam wanted to show no physical interaction, just barely falling short of verbally denying her in front of everyone in the restaurant, and that realization stung more than anything.

Why would Willam be so concerned with hiding this? Especially from Bianca and Courtney, two of their closest friends?

Despite her best efforts, she couldn’t stop a dejected aura from permeating her mood from that moment forward. Things seemed to come to a head as Willam tried to subtly increase the distance between their chairs. It had become so obvious that even Courtney commented on it between trading playful jabs with Bianca or running a teasing fingertip across her partner’s bare leg. Bianca would side-eye her every time but of course that particular look only earned an innocent, 'whatever is the matter’ expression from Courtney. And despite how sweetly the blonde might bat her lashes, absolutely no one was fooled, especially her girlfriend.

This behavior led Willam and Alaska to believe that the couple’s attention was focused solely on one another. So when the inquiry was finally made, both were completely caught off guard.

Despite her previously occupied thoughts, Courtney’s tone was quite pointed as she tried to pry out an answer from the pair in front of her. Even a quick glance in Bianca’s direction confirmed that she too had noticed the odd behavior and wanted to know the reason behind it. While Bianca stared keenly into Alaska’s eyes with a near accusing look settling across her face, Willam was quick to jump in with an adamant denial that anything was wrong. Despite her huffing in irritation at the question, there was a harsh blush growing across her cheeks.

Still Courtney was persistent in getting an actual answer. She was convinced, and rightfully so, that something was off between the two of them yet she just couldn’t figure out just what it was…at least not yet. Her immediate assumption was a fight of some kind, probably instigated by Willam, and proceeded to direct the majority of her probing in Willam’s direction.

Likely she would have pushed the topic well into the evening had not the waiter interrupted by bringing out their food just a few minutes later. By this time, Alaska, and even Willam to a degree, were shifting uncomfortably beneath Courtney’s insistent questioning. Even Bianca was becoming bored after her girlfriend’s attention had slipped away from their flirty bickering. Taking the arrival of their meals as a useful distraction, Bianca was quick to point out the almost sexual gleam Courtney held in her eyes as she gazed at the food on her plate. Immediately Courtney fell into defending herself and off the pair went into exchanging another round of playful taunts.

Thankful for the distraction, Alaska shot Willam a relieved look but even though she was no longer subject to Bianca’s shrewd gaze, Alaska still felt all too exposed at the moment. There was an overwhelming sense that if she spoke just one wrong word then somehow the couple across from her would put two and two together and realize that Willam and Alaska had begun a sexual and apparently secret relationship. For the rest of the night, Alaska barely felt able to look Willam in the eye, at least until their friends had left their company to head back to their apartment.

Following that uncomfortable exchange during their night out with Courtney and Bianca, Willam took more care to keep up appearances around the rest of their friends. It hurt that she would go so far as to all but deny that she had a physical relationship with Alaska but after all…wasn’t Alaska pretty much doing the same thing as well?

She wasn’t going as far with her efforts to keep their relationship quiet but really, who had she told?

Absolutely no one.

Not that she even knew how to bring it up.

But still…at least some of their friends deserved to know, especially since her and Willam’s new friends-with-benefits arrangement could potentially impact them down the line as well. Not that either planned nor wanted things to get messy…but still, if things did go south, how would they explain it to their friends?

No. It was better not to think about that.

Alaska would rather think about anythingother than what she would do after Willam found someone else to hook up with. True, their time alone together had become something almost domestic with skimpy dresses and clubbing being exchanged for modest outfits (well, modest for Willam) and lazy activities chosen just so they’d have an excuse to be around one another. But still…even with this new, almost romantic level being added to their relationship, Alaska was all too aware that they were not actually dating.

Sure, it might seem like that and just maybe she let herself indulge in the fantasy that it was true, if only for a night every now and then. But the reality of it was, this was truly nothing more than casual hooking up. Yes, some of their activities outside the bedroom could be seen as dates, but were they really?

Of course not.

She and Willam had always spent time together; whether it was idly chatting the day away in one of their apartments, taking carefree walks around the city, or even just window shopping and trading sarcastic comments on the hideous fashion trends on display.

They’d always been close and it was only the addition of a sexual relationship that made this all seem like something more romantic and meaningful than what it actually was. Alaska just had to accept that, no matter how much it stung. She just needed to learn to be content with the relationship as it was because as much as she hated to admit it, it wasn’t going to come to anything more. In fact, if she tried to push it in that direction, Willam would likely call the whole thing off in favor of returning to anonymous hookups with random clubbers once again. Something far more likely to remain NSA than this.

So Alaska opted just to keep her mouth shut regarding their new dynamic and simply enjoy the physical aspect for as long as she could until Willam eventually moved on. But still…Alaska was free to dream that things could be different, right?

There were even a few instances of late that made her wonder if maybe, just maybe, there was perhaps another deeper layer that existed on Willam’s part. Maybe one that even Willam wasn’t aware of yet.

The most recent bout of this internal debate presented itself after a rather emotional liaison they shared in the past week. The catalyst revolved around a lunch outing during a particularly stressful day at work. Alaska had multiple project deadlines coming up and all of her timeline goals seemed to be delayed for one reason or another. She had completely forgotten that they had made lunch plans that day until Willam had called her to ask if she was coming outside or if Willam was supposed to come in to pick her up.

Alaska’s mind drew a complete blank for a few seconds until she realized with a groan that yes, they had made lunch plans and yes, she had totally forgotten about it despite the notification blaring across her calendar. Sounding rather hurt that she had forgotten, Willam suggested, “If you’re busy, we can do this another-”

“No!” Alaska insisted with an increased sense of urgency as she snatched up her purse and rushed out to meet Willam in the parking lot. “I want to go out today! I just forgot to check my calendar this morning,” she lied with an internal wince.

“Okay,” came the clearly unconvinced response. “I’ll see you in a minute.”

With that the call ended and quicker than she would have moved for any other person, Alaska was racing across the lobby and out the main entrance towards the visitor’s lot. It was almost too easy for her to spot Willam’s car, since she tended to forgo the actual marked spaces and just park wherever she could get closest to the building. Typically that meant stopping half inside the pedestrian walkway or simply just parked in the middle of a row. More than once she’d been honked at to move but all that earned the other driver was a middle finger extended high into the air.

Today, as expected, Willam had pulled up right along the sidewalk…as well as several inches into the crosswalk, causing two employees to be forced to walk around her car on their way to the main lobby.

Alaska practically sprinted across the concrete to meet her friend and apologized once more for forgetting their plans. She expected Willam to shrug it off and begin driving away to the restaurant but instead she stayed put and questioned her in a mildly concerned tone, “You sure you wanna go to lunch right now? You seem pretty caught up-”

“I do!” Alaska promised empathically, “I really do…It’ll be a nice break, just spending time with you.”

A hint of color rose to Willam’s cheeks but she didn’t say anything more on the subject. With a simple nod of the head, Willam’s attention turned back to driving out of the lot. The fidgety little twitches in her fingers or squirming in her seat did not go unnoticed by Alaska, but she reasoned that perhaps Willam was still having her doubts about their lunch plans. It was unlike her to dwell on such a topic for so long but then again, it wasn’t often that Alaska would completely forget their plans like this. But in the end neither said another word until they arrived at the restaurant.

Their meal together was casual and relaxed although Alaska’s thoughts tended to wander back to the mountain of paperwork and emails waiting for her at the office. For the most part, she was able to distance herself from her work and focus on the conversation with Willam but there was still a persistent nagging in the back of her mind about all she left behind. But it was such a relief to finally be able to talk about something other than business goals or project requirements. Though at some point towards the end of their meal, Alaska had begun to suspect that the real reason she was enjoying her lunch so much was simply because of who she was with, rather than their topic of interest.

Willam had the unique ability to turn even the dullest conversation into a reason for Alaska to smile. Whether it be through interesting opinions or snide off-color remarks, more often than not, Alaska was with her sides aching from laughing so hard. Before the meal was even half over, it was as if a load of tension had been released from Alaska’s body, even if her mind still felt as if it were clenched inside a watertight clamp. In all, there wasn’t a single second of their outing that Alaska regretted, even if her time arguably would have been better spent pursuing updates on her various projects.

As they paid for their meal, a wave of afternoon tiredness hit her like a ton of bricks but Alaska was dead set on ignoring that feeling. A bit of coffee would soon push that drowsiness away and then she’d be ready to dive back into her work. Yet oddly enough, when Willam drove them back to the office, she didn’t steer her car up to the front of the building as she normally would have done. Instead, she took an immediate detour to the very back of the employee parking lot where very few cars ever seemed to stay for long.

Alaska shot her friend a look of confusion but wasting little time with subtleties, Willam let out a heavy sigh of, “Alright, bitch, what’s up with you today? It’s not like you to forget our lunch plans. Spill it.”

She sounded…hurt, Alaska noticed. Though there was just barely a noticeable tone of pain in her voice, Willam’s eyes were quick to betray her true feelings. She seemed upset but for exactly what reason, Alaska could only speculate.

Rather guiltily, the  Alaska tore her sight away from Willam’s and darted her eyes down towards the fingers that had begun fiddling with the hem of one of her long sleeves. The little button holding the cuff together was a welcome distraction for her fidgeting as Alaska tried to search her mind for an answer to ease Willam’s concerns. But as she struggled and failed to come up with a reasonable excuse, her thoughts were quickly swept away as she felt one of Willam’s hands wrap around hers in order to cease her nervous gesture.

Using a gentle tone very few had ever chanced to hear from her, Willam urged her friend softly, “Hey…talk to me.”

Rather reluctantly, Alaska began to voice a refusal stating that she didn’t want to burden Willam with the details of her work, but Willam was adamant.

“I want to hear,” she insisted.

Alaska’s heart was clenching tightly in her chest as she began a very general explanation of the problems she was facing with her projects. Yet despite her intentions to keep her complaints vague; before long she was delving into every little detail and finally giving voice to all of her frustrations until she felt ready to tear out her hair.

She blamed Willam’s open and earnest expression as she listened to Alaska’s ranting for why she had gotten so explicit and worked up like few had ever witnessed. With someone so willing to listen and just let her be honest about everything she was facing, it was hard to hold anything back once she truly got started. Although she was certain Willam only understood a fraction of what she was talking about, it was nice, cathartic even, to be able to have a human sounding board for her issues…One she didn’t work with anyway.

Coming upon the end of her bitchfest, Alaska concluded with, “And I have no clue if we’re even going to make the deadline now but everyone is looking to me to keep things moving but I just can't if these other teams won’t work with me! They keep telling me about all these issues after I have to force it out of them with multiple emails and threatening to CC their managers and it's just not fair !”

Quite defeated, her voice cracked as she glanced to Willam with a desperate look in her eyes, “I’m only one person…I can’t do all this by myself.”

Nodding in understanding, Willam leant forward to place a quick, calming kiss to Alaska’s lips before retreating back just far enough to whisper, “You’re right. It’s not fair. Not that they’re expecting you to do all this on your own…but I know you can do it.”

Inching her body even closer, Willam promised in a low voice, “And your bosses must think you’re capable of this otherwise they wouldn’t have trusted it all to you…You’re so smart and resourceful…you’re gonna figure it out, I promise. You’re doing your best and that’s all anyone can ask of you but I know this is something you can handle, even if its tough right now.”

Alaska was at a loss for what to say. Hearing such a compliment from anyone would have been enough to render her speechless but the fact that it was Willam? Someone known to awkwardly back out of the room like it were filled with victims of the plague once anyone started talking about their emotions? Someone who had more than once told their friends to ‘Suck it up!’ after bitching about a bad day at work?

It was enough to set her cheeks ablaze as she struggled to make any sort of intelligible sentence form in her head.

Finally, after darting her eyes away to collect her composure, she murmured in appreciation, “Thank you.”

Carefully tilting Alaska’s face back to hers, Willam flashed her a genuine smile and assured her, “I mean it. I have faith in you that you’ll figure it out.”

With that the pair shared another sweet kiss, one that left Alaska’s fingers tangled in Willam’s hair in a desperate effort to keep her from pulling away. It felt like so much more had been said with just that one action and neither felt quite willing to return to work after that. But responsibility won out and the two pried themselves away from one another in order to finish out their work day. Before leaving they exchanged a strong promise to see each other again tonight and as quickly as they were able to, they found their way to Alaska’s bed.

She wanted to thank Willam for what she had said earlier, for giving her the strength and resolve to tackle her work head on.

She wanted to repay her in the most expressive way she could think of. One that would show Willam just how grateful she was to have her in her life and how thankful she was to have Willam’s support.

Every ounce of her attention was singularly focused on Willam’s pleasure that night as she slipped inside of her partner with the strap-on that Willam had loved so much. More than any other toy they had tried using in their time together, this was the one Willam preferred and to show her appreciation, Alaska would gladly use it all night if that was what Willam had wanted. Anything she asked for was granted in an instant, whether it be a gentle tug on her hair, a light scratch down the length of her back and arms, or even just one more kiss despite the fact that Willam was barely able to catch her breath as it was…all of it, Alaska willingly and eagerly gave to her.

She was sure to leave no area untouched as she kissed her way across every inch of exposed skin that she could reach. Willam was writhing beneath her, so close and still begging for all that she could handle, and Alaska simply wanted to give it all to her. Her thrusts were as hard or soft as Willam demanded, as fast or as slow as she wanted until finally Willam slipped over the edge. As her body shook from the strength of her orgasm, Alaska intertwined their fingers together with one hand as the other brushed away the stray locks sticking to the sweat that had formed on Willam’s forehead. A series of gentle kisses were placed up her partner’s neck as Willam tried to catch her breath and reform some kind of coherent thought pattern.

Once it seemed as though she were breathing more easily, Alaska slipped the toy out and worked her lips down Willam’s body until she had dipped just below her stomach. With a glance up for approval, Willam gave a slight nod and soon Alaska’s mouth was at work once again. She began with carefully licking away the flavored lube that had been spread across Willam’s inner thighs and gradually inched ever closer to the most sensitive part of Willam’s anatomy.

She tried to remain considerate of just how sensitive Willam must be at the moment but the squirming and soft whines for more were all the encouragement she needed to move forward. Tentative licks became more deliberate as she pushed her tongue past Willam’s folds to lap at the mess she had made. All the mewls falling from Willam’s lips made the experience so much more of a turn on for Alaska. If she could have, she’d have given all that she had to relive this night forever.

But soon a broken call of her name filled the apartment and Alaska pulled away to look at her lover. Willam was an utter wreck as she lay on the bed; any trace of eyeliner she’d been wearing earlier was smeared into the glittery mess that was her eyeshadow and half extended down the expanse of her cheeks. Her beachy curls were tangled to hell and spread almost like a halo onto the pillow beneath her. But perhaps Alaska’s favorite sign of their night together was the littering of lipstick and darkening love bites she’d left scattered across Willam’s body. It was almost as if she were laying a physical claim to Willam; one that only they would ever see or know about.

Resuming her position overtop of her partner, they shared another passionate liplock. As the pair broke apart, Alaska panted out a question asking if Willam wanted to continue. The agreement was almost immediate, something that easily brought a pleased smile to the younger blonde.

With little resistance from her partner she rolled their bodies over until Willam was sitting just over top of Alaska’s legs with the strap-on standing straight up before her. Willam looked a bit confused by the change in position, at least until Alaska let out a seductive whisper of, “Wanna see you riding me for a bit…not fair to have me doing all the work, now is it?”

With that invitation, the pair began their activities once again. Neither was quite sure of the time when they finally called it quits. It must’ve been rather late or perhaps their exhaustion just made it seem that way. Each felt like they were practically on autopilot as they cleaned themselves off and slipped between the covers to lay nestled together until the next morning. Alaska’s final thoughts were a reflection of just how right it felt to have Willam in her arms and how desperately she wished that the older woman would return her affections one day.

******

But despite Alaska’s occasional wondering if Willam could ever harbor the same feelings towards her, at the end of each of her musings, she remained sure that the answer was ultimately going to be 'no.’

Sure, Willam might’ve been a bit more soft with her than anyone else but it was only because they were best friends. There wasn’t anything deeper aside from their now physical relationship. Any additional emotional attachment was just her wishful thinking. Her longing for something deeper and more substantial with Willam.

And after nearly 4 months of trying to hide their arrangement and her feelings regarding Willam, Alaska was sure some of their friends suspected something was going on between them. A number of the couples had tried their best to curb their curiosity but a few had made some subtle inquiries to try and work out the depth of their relationship. Courtney was perhaps the most blatant, seeming intent on probing the pair with a number of carefully worded questions whenever they were together until a few too many kicks to the shin forced her to stop. More than once she had complained about a growing bruise on her leg but both Bianca and Willam, the latter with her cheeks starting to burn, told her quite mercilessly that it was her own fault.

During the instances where they had gone out with Raja and Manila, those inquiries were now replaced with looks of pity and sympathy. Manila often reached over and took ahold of Alaska’s hand as she gave her friend a reassuring smile but the gesture simply left Alaska’s head spinning in a state of confusion. Raja was a bit like Bianca in that she would shoot knowing glances towards the pair, Willam in particular, but all that seemed to earn was the contempt of the dirty blonde. Usually by the time their outing was over, Willam’s arms were crossed in annoyance and she’d be huffing out that she was ready to leave. Raja would typically roll her eyes and again the pair would descend into a round of nonverbal communication that always seemed to end with Willam pulling Alaska away into the night.

Once or twice, Alaska tried to ask what all was going on but Willam stubbornly refused to answer. Annoyingly, she’d usually just deny that anything had happened despite the oh so obvious fact that Alaska was there to witness it. So rather quickly, Alaska learned to leave well enough alone and stopped asking questions.

But still that didn’t ease the discontent of her stomach nor the clenching of her heart. At the times when their friends’ focus was solely on their partners, Alaska was left to feel like the odd person out. Both the subtle and blatant show of affection the couples displayed caused her stomach to flip and her heart to drop. Even just a simple intertwining of fingers left Alaska dwelling in a state of pathetic jealousy and loneliness. Raja and Manila were the worst offenders of this; the two just couldn’t seem to keep their hands off one another but there were times when Bianca and Courtney were almost as bad.

Though it was much rarer, the pair usually preferring just to taunt each other or let a few stray fingers slip across their partner’s skin in a not so modest manner, there were a few occasions when they would exchange a meaningful kiss or hold on tightly to one another’s hand as if daring the world to throw whatever it could at them. On the days when Courtney was craving more than their usual brand of playful insults, Bianca was more than willing to pull her girlfriend into her arms and leave a random trail of kisses across her neck and cheek. During these instances, thankfully few and far between, it would practically take the outbreak of a war to pry the pair’s attention away from one another.

Though that meant no questions about Willam and Alaska’s state of affairs, having to remain witness to that undeniably close bond she would never experience left Alaska feeling utterly miserable. And tonight’s dinner date seemed to be leading in that direction. Both Bianca and Courtney’s eyes had grown soft that night as they gazed at one another until even Willam was shifting uncomfortably in her seat. It felt as though she and Alaska were third wheeling, though the expectation for this night was just supposed to be a simple meal at the cafe and later perhaps a walk around the city.

A few glances were exchanged between Willam and Alaska, usually of rolling eyes or gagging expressions, but Alaska’s heart just wasn’t in it. Every second that passed was compounding her loneliness until finally after watching Courtney and Bianca share a short but sweet peck on the lips, Alaska abruptly stood up and excused herself for a smoke break.

It was common knowledge that she had given up smoking a long time ago but every so often she’d give into temptation if the stressors of her life proved to be too great. Thankfully she always seemed to have at least a half empty pack of cigarettes in her purse but today as she dug through her belongings, it became clear that that was all that she had. There was absolutely no lighter to be found anywhere; not in the side pockets nor hidden amongst the other random collection of crap she had shoved into her purse at one point or another.

Slumping against the wall of the restaurant in defeat, Alaska felt close to crying. Though the setback was minor and arguably the best thing for her health that could have happened, she found herself biting back a slew of tears that had pooled in the corners of her eyes. Whether it was fate taking a hand or just her friend’s typical concerned nature; Willam came racing out of the restaurant just a minute or so after her and soon discovered Alaska in a state of distress.

Rushing to her side, she asked what was wrong and utterly refused to believe Alaska’s excuse of simply lacking a lighter as the cause for blame. She knew Alaska far too well for that and had little patience for the bullshit lie the blonde had tried to feed her.

No.

Alaska might have times where she got into a mood over little things but there wasalways an underlying reason. Something far more meaningful than just forgetting a lighter at home and Willam refused to give up on the subject until Alaska told her what was wrong.

The prodding was relentless as Alaska held onto her story quite admirably but as was expected, she eventually broke down. Feeling a single, warm tear falling down her cheek, she finally revealed the source of her frustration. Her voice cracked as she struggled to keep herself calm but before she could stop herself, she was all but screaming at Willam, “I’m sorry, I just-I want what they have, okay?”

Willam looked stunned but once started, Alaska just couldn’t stop. Like a flow of verbal diarrhea, she cried out, “I want to be able to tell our friends about us, what we’re doing. Like we aren’t ashamed of it-just…”

The voice in the back of her mind screamed at her stop but she was unable to hold her feelings back any longer. She had to tell Willam how she really felt…even if it meant possibly losing everything. She just couldn’t stand hiding anything any longer. With a pained desperation in her voice, she stressed, “I want to be able to hold hands. Kiss in front of them…even just…sitting closer together…I know you don’t want that kind of relationship but I… I do !”

The tears she previously held back were starting to slide down her cheeks but the state of her makeup was the least of her concerns. In one last hushed whisper, she admitted, “I hate acting like we’re keeping some kind of dirty little secret from our friends. I want to tell them…about us. Whatever this is.”

Having finally confessed her greatest secret, she looked to her friend for some kind of reaction. The look of shock and overwhelming confusion on Willam’s face was like nothing she had seen before. She could practically see the gears turning inside of Willam’s head as she digested everything she just heard but strangely Willam was absolutely silent. The mere fact that she had nothing to say immediately, whether it be good or bad, concerned Alaska. Already she was starting to regret letting everything spill out but it was too late now. There was no coming back from this.

After a minute or two with almost no response from Willam, Alaska’s resolve broke and hesitantly she spoke to her friend, “Will?…I’m sorry…Can you say something? Please?”

Blinking in confusion, Willam seemed to withdraw from her headspace just a little at the sound of Alaska’s voice. There was a moment where she forced back a heavy swallow before asking in trepidation, “You…want all of that-”

“Yes-”

“With… me ?” The tone of disbelief Willam held was absolutely astonishing. Like she just couldn’t wrap her head around the fact that someone, anyone could ever want that kind of relationship with her.

And Alaska was hardly any better off. How could Willam not believe that she was worth all of that? Barely able to keep her voice low, Alaska affirmed emphatically, “Yes! Wha-Why wouldn’t I?”

A strange look passed across Willam’s face. There was a mix of emotions, too many to be able to distinguish all at once but one that stuck out, really, really stuck out, was that of reproach. Willam looked to be biting back something that she wanted to say and Alaska’s patience snapped. Feeling broken, frazzled, and just kind of miserable, she let out a helpless huff of “What?”

“‘Lask,” Willam began quietly as her eyes turned to the ground, “…you…you know you can do better than me, right?”

“What?” Alaska cried out incredulously.

Running her hand across her bare arm, Willam explained, “I mean…That’s why-I kinda thought you knew that already…” Her voice dipped into a register so soft that Alaska strained to hear properly, but just barely she could make out, “I thought that you were just waiting till you, I don’t know, found someone who actually deserved you.”

The moment their gazes reconnected, Alaska felt like there was a sudden moment of clarity like none she had ever experienced before. Her heart felt ready to leap from her chest as it filled to the brim with the realization that her feelings were in fact returned. Though Willam had not said it in so many words, Alaska just knew what she meant.

Stepping closer, Alaska’s eyes and voice had grown soft as she reassured her lover, “Will…you’re not perfect-” a look of indignation and warning immediately swept over Willam’s face and recognizing the poor wording, Alaska continued on to stress, “-but neither am I. There’s no one else I want to be with…All of this,” she gestured to the open space between them, “ … was everything I ever wanted. No one else can make me laugh like you can. No one else makes me feel so cared for and supported…and no one else can put up with my tantrums or whining like you.”

Shaking her head, Willam tried to argue “You don’t-”

“I do,” Alaska interrupted with a knowing smile, “You know I do. The point is, you’re the only one I want to be with. The only one I’ve ever wanted to show off to our friends…”

It finally seemed like her words were truly reaching Willam but still she had to ask, “Really?”

There was a desperate kind of hope in her voice, as well as on her face, one that Alaska recognized all too well. They were far more similar in that regard than she had ever thought but now that she understood all that Willam felt towards her, it made it that much easier to reassure her, “ Really .”

Alaska’s hand came up to brush her fingers through Willam’s loose curls as the older woman still tried to fully convince herself of all that Alaska had said. Trying her best to regain that confident disposition she was known for, Willam struggled to find the words admit to Alaska, “I…I want…”

A fond smile stretched across Alaska’s lips as she guessed what Willam was trying to say. Sharing her feelings was not her strong point, it never was, but Alaska could read everything she needed to know just from Willam’s eyes. Silencing her partner with a quick kiss, she assured Willam that she didn’t have to say anything, she already knew what Willam meant.

But still, despite this newfound understanding, Alaska needed to ask before they went back inside the restaurant, “Can we tell them about us? Courtney and Bianca, at least? Just for now?”

Shaking her head with her own tears stinging at the corners of her eyes, Willam pecked Alaska’s lips once more and laughed out, “No. I want to tell everyone.“

[hurlumerlu]

Kirkwall gang’s daemons, part 3

Sebastian : borzoï  « My sly dogs », his favourite lover used to call them, greeting him in her room by carding her fingers through the knots under Rona's jaw. He has been assured, by centuries of literature on the subject, that a hound is a fitting daemon for the youngest son of a King. Especially one as poised as Rona, who retains her elegance even when furious or afraid, even with a blood-covered snout, even when they were both still scoundrels and plotting the humiliation of some unsuspecting soul. Her hands where the loveliest part of her, adorned, clever and deft, more handsome than pretty. Her bat daemon's fur was the softest thing he had ever touched. He's not so sure a hound is a fitting daemon for a servant of the Maker. Especially one as independent and stubborn as Rona, who (like him) only ever does what she wants and (unlike him) never bothers with any guilt.

She's the only one he wrote to. Her answering letter opened with « Brought to heal, at last ? ». He knows it was only a joke. He sometimes hopes it's true. Aveline : mule  Donnic had called her a beacon once. It had made Preux snort and Aveline think both of Ostagar and of the betrayal in Hawke's voice, in front of the Arishok.  Aveline, is this true ? - I don't put much stock in beacons, she had said. They're no hopebringer and no guiding light, except perhaps in the most prosaic way, on the battlefield, where enemies flock to them like moth. Maybe they think that a woman with a peasant's daemon is more impressive than deadly. Maybe she should stop calling them to her, or hurling herself to the front line. Maybe, Isabella drawls, it's just your hair. Maybe. When Aveline had come home with a daemon too large for her bedroom, her father had smiled and fetched some tools. Looks like we'll have to make some changes to the house, he had laughed. It'll take the time it takes, but we'll get it done. It's the same thing here : one must tend to one's home. It takes the time it takes. Carver : Eastern bluebird

In that regard, Arete's a late bloomer. Carver doesn't mind. People expect him to, so they assume he's lying but, really, he doesn't mind. Arete enjoys shifting, so why should she stop ? And if others take offense when she becomes a great eagle or a mabari, well, tough. It's not her fault their daemons are lame. Sometimes he thinks she'll be a bird because it kind of runs in the family. But magic kind of runs in the family too and it skipped him, so who knows. And who cares, anyway ? Not Carver. Not Arete. In the end, it is a bird, but he doesn't notice right away. He's exhausted, the world is chaotic and grey, he just saw Bethany's body break and her daemon's dissolve into nothing. So sue him, his mind is elsewhere. He doesn't even hear Arete calling his name, at first. But when he finally looks at her, he recognizes everything, from the small beak to the blue and orange feathers – though hers aren't as bright. He tries to yell, to curse her, to demand that she... it's she who speaks : « Carver, I can't change back », she says. Looking at her hurts for years.

(part 1) (part 2)

[thorndale-industries]

Little drabble based on a idea I had last night before sleeping.

Word count: 2511

The queen's lean fingers stroked the soft, cold fabric she was laying on - every contact, every bit of the regular texture pleased her sensitive skin. Without thinking much about it, she spread her hand further away as her fingers started to enter a warmer, even more welcoming area. A familiar sensation, a burning beacon leading the shaking woman to a warm harbour - far away from the threatening cold outside. In her mind, she saw their wooden cabin hidden in the dark forest of Scandinavia, covered in a white blanket and little snow flakes slowly swung down like tiny feathers. Her eyes clung to the orange and red colours tinting the snow around it, she was drawn to the flame like a moth. A smile appeared on her pale skin, colourless like everything around her.  Tiny branches cracked under her feet, a distant announcement of her arrival echoing through the woods that swallowed every light and a storming gust of wind reminded her who was in power at this place. Freezing again, she pulled the protecting blanket closer around her exposed vulnerable chest. Her breath heavy, covering her in a bright nebula, as her lifeless fingers reached out for the frozen doorknob - just one movement, and the saving empire enfolded itself in front of the new guest, a lost soul returning home.  But with every step she took, with every look she made, the heat she was longing for, did not appear. No arms wrapped around her, holding her, fighting off the cold that had her in her tight grip. But instead, there was emptiness. A blink, and out of the sudden the peaceful setting was gone, every bit of colour yielded to depressing shades of black - and everything seemed abandoned. Dead. 

Startled, her eyes wide open, gasping for air and her red fingernails now buried deep into the fabric beneath them, claws crushing the defenceless victim. Then she finally lifted her head, cold sweat running down her spine. 3 blinks, until she finally realized she was still in her husband's bed in Hong Kong, and not stranded all alone in Finland, left behind -  and the liberating sensation of relief opened up the chocking knot in her throat, allowing her to breath. But there was something about this place, something still did not feel quite right, and like a persistent predator the cold brushed over her exposed shoulders and left its mark on her in form of goosebumps. Her sight clung to the empty pillow to her left side, abandoned just like she was in her dream, yet she could still feel the warmth of her lover like if he never had disappeared. Grunting and confused about the situation she had found herself in, she turned to the other side to check the time - and for a brief moment her exhausted eyes were caught by the stunning beauty of the city underneath her feet.  She always adored the view this penthouse's bedroom offered with its wide and open windows, like a king and a queen they rested above their kingdom and never left it out of their ruling sight. 

3:45 AM - Red, nearly menacing numbers revealed the late hour Gillian woke up at, burning her bloodshot eyes. Disturbingly punctual were the haunting visits the hungry demons always loved to make - perhaps they were as obsessed with this subject as their victim was. She let her fingers run over her face, as the absence of her husband disturbed her more than the regular rhythm of nightmares - something she was used to. Every possible thought was made on her condition, all the questions asked why it plagued her mind and body for over a decade, there was no point in wasting any other. She shook her head, "No." she whispered to herself. With clumsy and uncoordinated movements she dragged herself to the edge of the bed and regretted her decision the moment she exited the numbing and cosy sphere of her blanket. Heavy, as it begged to stay at queen's side. She declined the offer, as charming and seducing it might be, and moved towards the exquisite armchair right in front of the windows to grab another loyal companion, the chestnut brown bathrobe and like a true queen wearing her coat she embraced the soft fabric with a sound of pleasure and content. Her quiet steps were places with deliberation, as she tried her best to not wake the sleeping beast of Cerberus, who slumbered in its bed right next to her.  

So if Pan is still sleeping here, he did not take her out for an emergency walk. Where are you then? Arms wrapped around lean body, the white haired woman yawned and stretched her drained limbs before stepping into the spacious area of this own little private palace. A few light were turned on, dimmed, and tinted the lavishly decorated spaces into a fascinating dance of black and gold - and for a short moment Gillian felt like she just stepped into a bizarre set instead of a place people lived in.

"Robert?", her voice raspy and dry as it echoed through the open chambers, but no response returned to the sender. With every passing second the painful concern grew in her, poking her beating heart with tiny needles. The trial of lights led her deeper into the open living room, her fingers brushed over the leather on the couch as she passed it and followed the breadcrumbs to her destination. Her steps light, yet uncertain. When she reached the huge floor, barely existing when most rooms were open and directly connected, she leaned around the corner full of caution. The guiding light was strongest at this place, and she hoped she would find the man she was looking for and that she could get some illumination into the darkness that surrounded her confused mind. And she hoped she could bring him back into their private sanctuary. Her heart skipped a beat as she finally spotted him in front of the shoe stand, slowly and carefully putting on his favourite pair - plain, leather with the colour of the finest amber. And to her surprise he seemed to be about to leave. Gillian furrowed her brow. "Darling, where are you going?" she whispered with a nearly non existing voice. "It's in the middle of the night.". Although her words were soft like cotton, not disturbing the peaceful sleep the city was in, the man with auburn hair jerked back a few inches and tried his best to keep his balance. His emerald green eyes, framed in bright red, glanced over her with raised brows. Before he responded to her, he finished tying his shoes without a sound and straightened his back.

"There has been a breach in one of our labs, I need to head to the office and take care of it personally." His sight followed the path his wife had taken, spotting the cold city lights shining from the bedroom. "I did not mean to weak you up, Dearest." 

Gillian stepped one step closer to him, her arms still wrapped around her chest. "What kind of breach, is it serious?" Robert shook his head, yet his face remained expressionless. A deep sigh escaped his lips. "Nothing deadly, it's not from the biotech division. More of a security issue, an annoying sting that need to be pulled out. Nothing we haven't dealt with before." 

"When did you get the message?"

"Just 10 minutes ago, Morgan called me."

"Morgan? Is it one of our blacksites?"

Robert's face tensed up for a second, his exhausted eyes squinted but his voice remained calm and caring. "Don't you worry about it, let me take of it." "Are you sure?" Her tone was more concerned than intended. Perhaps the lack of sleep started to manifest itself in lack of control. 

His right hand wandered up to her anaemic face and gently stroked her skin with his soft, warm thumb. "Go back to bed, Gillian. I know it's your time right now, but you need to get all the rest you can. You have been working a lot lately. Not that I do not appreciate our....your progress on the M Initiative, but I am worried about your state."

The woman rolled her eyes, tilted her head and rewarded her husband with a judging stare.

"I mean it, Gillian. This here? This is really nothing. An inconvenience, nothing more. I will be back before you will even notice I am gone."

"Robert... " She leaned into his embrace and places her hand on his wrist to squeeze it. "There is more to it, I can see it. What's going on?" 

He responded with a tired smile, avoiding her all-seeing eyes by looking down on the carpet beneath his feet. There was no way to deceive her, he knew this as much as she did. They have been through too much together to not see the obstacles in their path - it never mattered how big their were. With holdings their hands, they firmly stood against everything the world has thrown at them. He had to admit there were certain thought lingering on his mind regarding this issue, their roots dug deeper than just scratching the surface. The second he thought about this, his nose started to wrinkle in anger and disgust.

"I suspect certain mutual... friends of ours may be behind this. They put their dirty, skeleton fingers into every crack, into every gap they can find. They think they have the right to kick in every damn door and to look what's behind them. I..." He shook his head once again, cutting himself off before the sizzling lava could break free. His free hand was shaking as his manicured nails dug into his skin, formed to a fist. He could feel how her grip around his wrist got stronger to keep him at her side.

"I know what you mean." Her voice still a whisper. "Do what you must, Robert. I know you will do the right thing." 

Suddenly, she let go of him, stroked his palm while she did, and leaned in to place her lips on his own for a deep, affectionate kiss. He fully embraced her caressing, as their lips separated just a few seconds later and leaving an unpleasant feeling of coldness on them - of incompleteness. And for a moment, the time stood still. Then Gillian simply walked away, returning to her cosy liar without granting her husband a final look. He watched her walk, his eyes clinging to her back - smiling. He knew what he had to do, and he will not displease his queen at any cost. Like a heavy stone falling from his chest, the knowledge that she approved of his actions filled him with a thrilling sensation. Not that he ever doubted her support, but hearing it like a pleasant melody made his fingers twitch. 

Page grabbed the plain jacket from the coat-hanger to protect himself from the fresh autumn breeze outside - this September turned out to be surprisingly cold for Hong Kong. With a quick movement he grabbed the silver case from his inside pocket as he left the apartment for the elevator down to the garage. A cigarette placed between his full lips, his hands running through his soft hair, and the silent humming of the machine surrounded him. The taste of tobacco fired up his appetite for his beloved drug -  summoning a faithful warrior who would fight off the minions of exhaustion and tiredness that tried to occupy his mind and body. Click, and his exquisite lighter ignited a calming flame in his hands, and he watched them with his equally glowing eyes before lighting up the cigarette. Smoke covered the man like a coat covered a king - creating an illusive, yet powerful presence while concealing his true face.  His mind reminded restless, as he replayed the call he had received from his mentor earlier and for a brief moment. Word for word. He could hear the dragon, the beast, roar and growl inside of him - the blaze was already burning in his hands, the smoke came out of his nose like a menacing harbinger of the upcoming devastation. He was prepared.

With a soft ping he arrived at the garage and walked straight forward to his car - he did not even glance at the guards protecting the sumptuous objects of luxury and most of them were impractical for the traffic filling up the city's streets. But at this late hour he might be lucky. Page pulled out his minimalistic key chain and held the little chip in front of his black compact executive car, although for a short moment he considered to take his sports car instead - but he decided against it. As he was about to step in and drive off, he perceived the sound of fast steps of sneakers approaching him and his body tensed up in anger. Who dared to interrupt him now, did they not see he was in hurry? Even if it was just a guard asking about his whereabouts. He had not precious time to spare to any of them. And his breath got heavier, his hands cramped around the leather wheel. The CEO of VersaLife relaxed, in surprise, as he spotted the person who walked up to him and his furiously beating heart calmed down beat by beat before he chuckled softly. "I should have known you wouldn't let me go that easily."

Gillian, wearing a plain grey shirt - probably the first one that fell into her hands, and a patternless jacket put her hands into her hips and smiled right back at him. "You should have. You really did not think I would let you leave without me in this matter."

"Of course not. But aren't you tired? My words were not without a true meaning." "Eh." She shrugged. "If necessary I will just sleep in your office. Not the first time I would do this." 

The tall man stepped out of his car and brushed his ginger hair back. Deep down, he was glad that she showed up again, that she had his back whatever happens - that he had at least one person he could really count on. Even if the price for that might be higher than he could estimate. But he could not repress the broad, affectionate smile as he saw her in this colourless light of the garage, her hair all messy. She might have hurried to reach him in time. 

"Robert, we are in this together. We always were, and always will be. And you know that this is how this and is how it is supposed to be."

"It was always us against them. What would be the point otherwise?" 

"Do you know who is behind it already?"

"No, but we soon will. And then all we need to do is to pull the trigger."

"And I will pass you the gun."

[verse-aday-blog]

“Ten Remarkable Interpretations”

1 I’m not too old to dance meadowlarks: great punctuation locks in black and blocks, crepuscular and vain the sun in its descent. “You kicked up dust” of which the Ural mountains are but dim reminders through a wooded alley loud as if disturbed in the unbuttoned fog that grays a pedestrian’s silhouette while the passport picture reaching out to me is true or false to tetrahedral nation-states dead in winter water, enzyme ice. I cannot fear to be forgotten a child born another book the dust at dusk of skilled sculptors whose cities sink the swollen toad, her pride flamingoes, lilies, and boy flowers the center of a blue-black vault, history on it, an apron.

2 Language is a victim of its own success while into the carriage comes a louder lyric me of which the Cockscomb Mountains are like apples rotting in the dust that none of us would be content with and a caterpillar’s cud to chew poor tucks can kill, pour tanks, and call. People are forced to live, work, yearn with bourgeois linearity to change this nerdy life upon row upon row upon row of the river pulled further and further apart under the unswallowed elegy of a collared stork. Then productivity as reproductivity ends. Motion gets immobilized by perception into things perceptions get but perception gets it wrong is language. Let’s use it.

3 Doing is highly thought of and frequently abandoned as at a bus stop beside a stunted gingko, and time is tossed a laundry pile large as the crown of a tree or the gravid animal of Pythagoras, and every mathematician dies while runnels vacillate or do nothing astrophysically speaking. Let’s go for eggs and to the bakery. My kid wants to be a puppeteer. But someone must polish glass and since then the refugees weep wax and travel over agate pastures and gag. But we have to trust philosophy—and deny the property where depiction most perfectly depiction depicts. In a faux chateau of finance the proposition is a picture of corn cakes, last crumbs, weapons passing from hand to hand. Let’s rest. Life is fast. As the city rat, resuming, says: “Rudeness is rude.”

4 It can be argued from horseback—the horse a ruby roan as night falls on the shores before an infant knows of time— that there is something in mathematics shorn of ideology. I propose too that there are many things with their capacity to collide or combine with other things in the vicinity (that gravitational field of monsters)— and budding dust small flies: they totter. The public does not need to be convinced. An idiom like Kierkegaard on Halloween gathering twigs and fathering eggs while a stunted thorn frolics in the shade now dead inconsistently down the large white sea does what a poem does, making itself understood.

5 Every situation can be taken as subject to a proposition at stake at this stage of the state. Rejection of a context need not be of one’s own hoeing of the sun, one’s head a building site. Say I rode in on a vicious mule surrounded by leaves under the northern star, the eternal conflict. Say I beat my brow and only put on shows, withered webs, a rigmarole, an atrocity to which I’ll give no words. I refuse it representation. The janitor is innocent, autumn is ill, and cruelty is the rule. I swear you’ll be my father until I die from a flea bite or while beating a metal drum, eating honey and corn like a girl again with an umbrella under a redwood tree with all of which I am in a certain sense one. The roof on trust of hover can’t render love pathetic. I claim too much and yield to the Bighorn Mountains of which the truth of history is but an indifferent silence.

6 Because we refuse to personify the gaping east or deformed west or cranial north or sacrificial south we must accept this box and these panoramas to which we were led through sliding doors just as certain Alpine cliffs reproduce the “head” variants of Mayan “script” with an impersonal cluck to the jeweler. Wherever a human is to be found, there you will find occupation, a skyscraper, a 9-foot copper weathervane, imperial pickles a force plundering an unarmed ceramic bowl. Urban greenbelts lift a feisty allegorical vegetation in human voice above an opium fish, a dime in cinders under the wind and there are wealthy men, skin not yet charred. They are popular as hardware, music, poached eggs, modesty, multicolored snapdragons and the alphabet sacrificed in times of need. I live under the authority of a stucco beehive and a soldier says affectionately to me, You there!

7 We think, we approach, we exist sweep and speak, on ziplines or not. Sayings spread as amusements for children women and men by pony-poets, beetle-poets, crow-poets are voiced by the words themselves and not by anyone speaking them. I dab fingernail polish on six croquet balls. Which of the names of Hercules do you hear and in which of your ways of which the hill behind the soldier bathed in sweat is like a general’s nose or the yellow bowl upturned beside the kitchen sink after I wash it to dry. It’s now a wedding finch a reference to whistling rain a great honesty in the far sacerdotal south. Do they piss on the spider, the aged face of the great organizer on slender evidence, the rising sun that hangs a puppet from my hands?

8 The mountaineer rappels at midnight the wall a wall a wall a woman recalls: a contingent object—it might never have existed then you look at your fists and there are the letters o in admonition, odor, foot. A dog shakes premonitions from its coat lovers of time—time of all kinds— winged insects, mosquitoes mostly but also moths. Welcome, unwelcome, buffeted? Who can make durable wax? Who can knot? The baker is a man and brutalizes wheat and all attempts recall a textual residue of celebrating rats a game of backgammon with dancing kissing getting drunk hugging singing crying when we were leaving war a stumbling block reconstructed and constructed o xank history thistle e tspung hatchet corvid head over human heels, facing a direction wrong or right.

9 Pity combatants on the line who self-concretize, becoming paving stones but I say too loudly that of which I don’t know how to say enough borrowing transcription from a local pebble held in a palm from which a puppet tugs as if pulled by the revolutions of the planets Mercury Saturn or Mars over nearly twelve and a half million days marking time, which is the subject matter of history in which the sun itself bakes the bread then drawn from the oven and cooling under the proprietary nakedness of the caustic trees. So, asked a bee of experience, “How is it that umbrellas are raised against the future of the sun?” Remnants of the past don’t expect us, remnants of the past didn’t foretell us. Our songs are sonically shattered over shortwave by a scop singing the praises of his patron, the racist acquitted—he nods and flees the derelict pattern.

10 People work under the clouds and are direct inheritors of the things that happen every twenty days. What saddle do we use? A wolf has been caught and it sweats. My own sleeps do not unfold in easy procession which is called lustrous, erect, major, and will in some field cease altogether. Then tell me what you have to say. The chains obey, the dogs piss under glass, voracious fish leap from the beams, we do arbitrary things—appear and disappear as leonine as dogs. The first person is made for oneself, denizen of a cult or rubbish heap ready for the evening show in the cavern of centuries. The second is made for you, a respectable human of greenish hue. We had a drink and it cost a house into which we moved, music coming from stone. By Lyn Hejinian, from The Spectacle

[jameswardbarnes]

The large moth that flew in from pry on Vimeo.

Poem & voice by CLAUDIA SEREA ... Film & sound production by JUTTA PRYOR

The large moth that flew in

It poked me in the cheek trying to fly into my mouth seeking refuge as if you were a word I uttered long time ago and now awakened from the dead. Moth from Old English moththe Middle Dutch motte Old Norse motti. Were you a sound from sleep? A muffled cry. Were you spoken in error in the wrong ear, unintelligible, soft? Were you lost looking for meaning down my throat? Were you the comet moth, the black witch, the luna or the Gypsy the emperor's gum, good god, the dark dagger, dusky brocade, the death's hand, the flame, the ghost, the shark, the snout, or the true lover's knot? Were you November, or winter? I'll never know. I picked you up and threw you out into the night.