Let’s Knot (And Say We Did)
Sep
23
“Of course, I went to Chuuya!” Dazai beamed—right before he was slammed off the barstool by a furious small redhead with his hand pressed hard enough over Dazai’s mouth, he tasted blood.
What Might Have Been
Sep
22
He might have been someone important, might have been loved by a mother, a father, embraced by family before he became the human body wrapped around the power of catastrophe and destruction. ____ didn’t feel anything about that, or about the seal between self and the world, or about the seal between that vessel and the world, where people moved in the distant light beyond this blue grey glass.
dream of you (poem)
Sep
18
For F and Y
I dream of you when I shall sleep
and in my heart, all memories keep
of every day you loved me too
I will not stop from loving you
upon us (poem)
Sep
18
new days come upon us and find us waiting
hope springs anew within our beating hearts
that today, the daylight finds us saving
all our dreams, and promises come through
Golden Moment
Sep
18
The moment feels golden—light spilling between her fingertips as she giggles and leans in close to brush her own over his mouth. A trace of a sketched outline flares pink then falls to the charcoal-colored imprint of her hand against his face.
They’re breathless, and her hands are cold with the frost that accompanies his light.
Lightsculpt. Sketch. Two of a kind and it feels so sweet.
She doesn’t pull her hand away, leans in closer, kisses him with a warmth that surprises her. He answers her with a kiss returned, with his hand gripping hers—wrapped in light.
That Face
Sep
15
She hated that face. It wasn’t her own face.
Gray prepared herself each day without availing herself of a mirror. She could do up her hair without looking, clean even her face simply by feel, hide herself beneath a hood from shishou, from herself.
Her mother used to smile at her lovingly. The smiles had changed once she’d acquired this alien face. Everyone had been so happy—everyone but Gray.
And now…
“Shishou?”
“Ah, Gray.” He looked at her without looking at her, without wanting her to house someone else’s spirit, without wanting her to be anyone but Gray.
Gray smiled.
Speak to Me With Thine Eyes
Sep
14
Attolia raised his eyes to hers, and for a moment, Eugenides was staring at her, not her earrings. She did not change expression, she willed him to see, and then he did, frozen.
“Do you know what’s going to happen to you?”
It was everything spoken without words, an offer made and rejected under duress, accepted now for reasons that somehow no longer seemed purely political. But Eugenides had never needed her words to understand, had never needed words to make himself understood.
Even so, he found them, closed his eyes a moment, then stared into her eyes anew. “Yes.”
Eyes to See
Sep
14
She looked into those ugly eyes—all the pain and anger and fear that had built up in Kyo over years and years of knowing the truth about his own self—and saw him.
Not just the beautiful moments they’d managed to share. Not just his humanity lying over the top of this cat spirit. Not just the person and form that people loved, but the one they hated, the one that smelled and looked disgusting, even in the eyes of those who swore they loved him.
He saw it in her eyes that she saw him truly.
And stayed.
Beautiful
Sep
13
He had beautiful eyes.
From the first moment Violet saw the Major, she saw something she’d never seen before in the eyes that looked at her. She couldn’t name the feeling there, nor the feeling it struck within her own breast, only that when he reached for her, held her, she didn’t feel compelled to bite or hurt him. She didn’t feel threatened by his touch.
From the moment she looked in his eyes, they calmed and reassured her in a way nothing else had or could. She held onto her broach now and looked into that beautiful color—remembering.
Cold Winter
Sep
13
Cold winters, they said in the southern lands—before Heresh had ascended as Winter King. Now, it was cold winter. Everywhere.
He didn’t stay there. He tried to stop breathing out the cold long enough to feel for Arot’s pulse and heartbeat, reassuring under his too cold hands, then he took his friend back to the Summer Court and left him at the back kitchen door where he knew the servants would find him quickly.
He couldn’t stay.
Heresh was winter and wherever he walked, winter would be coldest. He couldn’t stay and let it break Arot’s inborn summer power.
So he wrenched his gaze from the dim but reassuring glow, like sunlight under Arot’s skin, and stared out at the snow falling on late summer woods, then began to walk.
North.
Lost in Space
Sep
03
Technically, Ekos wasn’t lost.
Hurtling end over end, nose over thruster through the cold deep in the dying light of a riftspace tidal wave. He only hoped the wave of byte and digit and signal flares he’d worked it in passed all the intended checkpoints.
He felt lost.
He’d destroyed the solar system, shredded riftspace throughout, and left the enemy squadron in smatterings and pieces. His own hull was damaged, engines not firing, adrift wherever he’d fall or riftspace would take him.
Ekos had been alone too long already, but now—
It burned within him coldly, he wouldn’t be found.
wake (poem)
Aug
22
wake me now, open my eyes—
my heart and mind feel locked inside,
and somewhere where my dreams are kept
is also where my light has slept
so wake me up, just as the sun
right before the day’s begun
my dreams (poem)
Aug
15
morning wakes my dreams again
can’t I take the world by storm?
I ache to be more, fluttering hard
against this silk cocoon
Hold Me Tight
Aug
14
“Isot?”
He hmmmed in response as he slid into bed, weariness making him slow and a little clumsy. It had been a long day of interviews with military and queen.
Ahure waited quietly. When at last his arm came around her, “What did they say?”
He’d asked to join the home guard—her post. His ship body was still strong despite five years of cold space and only what maintenance he could do in total isolation.
At the memory of emptiness, he shuddered.
Her grip tightened, grounding him, not empty anymore.
It gave him strength to answer.
“They said yes.”
The Morning After
Aug
07
Mikoto stood in the doorway to the bar, and Kusanagi just looked at him for a long moment before Mikoto shrugged and dropped onto his usual seat at the front.
It wasn’t his way to apologize. Kusanagi had been the one to tell him that ages ago.
“You’ve had that in your system for years,” Kusanagi commented. His voice was just slightly sharper than usual, more disappointed.
Mikoto leaned his head back. Kusanagi was too close to this, too close to Mikoto’s inability to protect Totsuka, and he’d be the first hit when Mikoto left him holding all the pieces. There wouldn’t have been comfort in Kusanagi’s bed.
Munakata should know this was the only warning he was going to get.
“Did you find the gun?” Mikoto asked.
Kusanagi studied him for a long moment, seeming to pack up his pain, his disappointment, his face and tone smoothing out to something both casual and dangerous. “Yes.”
bruises (poem)
Jul
26
For F and Y
I feel bruises
on my heart
that’s where you used to live
and where the fire started
just beneath the crest
of collarbone
buried in my flesh
just like my beating love for you
stronger than my heartbeat pulse
but every word you took to me
like knives and wounds you beat on me
bruised my heart
and now it cries
for you
Morning Touch
Jul
22
Skylight pulled the sleepshirt over her head and eyed her remaining clothes not in the laundry. With her habit of shoving in extra training sessions wherever they would fit, she had a bad tendency to sweat through shirts almost faster than she could wash them.
Math chuckled behind her, as if he could see the speculative look on her face (he could not). There must have been something about her stance that gave her away.
“Wash tomorrow,” she commented. Her spare supply was justified.
“Yes.” He got out of the bed behind her and fished down her second to last tank top. He paused, hand tracing over her back gently then over the line of her sports bra.
Skylight breathed evenly, slow and steady, but she felt warm all over.
He carefully lifted the shirt over her head and tugged it down over her shoulders, let her fit her own arms through the holes, but smoothed it carefully into place after.
She didn’t let him go for the overshirt before she dragged him close and kissed him good morning.