Crazy Contest Mania Month!

Contest #1

A t-shirt that reads, "Fear not! For though I journey far into the archives, I shall return! (Famous last words of many)"

A mug that reads, "Hey, if you had dozens of people living in your head you'd need a lot of coffee too."

A mug that reads, "Coffee. The one gift Thuoth gave to the humans that Etaf didn't demand he get back."

Contest #4, Entry 1

Twilight sat and observed his king. He tried to ignore the weight of the shackles on him that kept him chained to the throne. It was easy, when Sunray was around.

The fallen prince let loose a small sigh, not unlike that which maidens secretly breathed whenever they gazed upon his raven dark hair, eyes of wintery blue that were as cold as his supposed soul. But those eyes took in only one other and it was none of the ladies who stole secret glimpses of his beautiful face when they visited the audience chamber. Twilight had eyes only for his beautiful younger brother. His Sunray. His king.

He hadn’t always gotten along with his little brother, of course. In hindsight, he painfully regretted the wasted time they’d squandered. But now Twilight had all the time of the world to be with Sunray. He could reach out, even now, and touch the young man’s pale, perfect-skinned hand where it lay resting on the throne. But he dared not. Not because of where they were or WHO they were. But because Twilight feared that Sunray would flinch away from him. He’d suffered the scorn of his people, the disappointment of his father and his mother. But he would die inside if his beloved brother turned away from him as well.

Oh, Sunray, Twilight thought, and sighed again as he shifted to better look upon his brother’s face. If only you knew how much you meant to me. It’s just as well that you have taken the throne. You are a better king than I ever could be. Wise, just, firm, beautiful… The prince licked his lips. He knew he shouldn’t have such thoughts about his brother. Perhaps he really was withered and corrupt in his soul. But if that was so, then why did Love burn her fierce flame whenever she was near him, like this? With a start, he realized that audience was coming to an end for the day. Normally, courtiers lingered but today they were ushered out in order to give the king some quiet.

Twilight sat up on his knees and peered at his brother’s face. “What troubles you, sweet brother?” His heart seemed light and it beat quickly. They were alone, which was rare, for Sunray always had a guard at hand.

Sunray turned his head and glanced at his elder brother shackled to the throne beside him. “I was thinking of you.”

Twilight could scarcely breathe. He wondered if he should dare speak lest his voice crack. But he managed a soft, whispery, “Aye? Why for?”

“I was contemplating the power I have over you. You know that if I ordered it, I could have you beaten or broken and none would fault me. I could even reach over and…” The king’s pale hands darted out and grabbed one of the chains that held Twilight and jerked it, forcing Twilight closer to the throne. “I could hurt you.”

“You could,” Twilight agreed, swallowing. Not of fear. But because he was so close to the object of his affections. He didn’t care if Sunray ever hurt him. If that made Sunray happy, that made Twilight happy.

“I don’t want to,” Sunray said, voice cracking a little. He sounded on the verge of tears. “You’re my brother, Twilight! I love you, I never want to hurt you. But nobody cares.”

“Don’t cry, dearest brother, light of my heart,” Twilight murmured. He leaned in closer, close enough to reach over and brush the backs of his fingers gently against Sunray’s cheek. He loves me! He said he loves me. And even though he knew it was likely not the kind of love that Twilight felt for him, it was enough to warm him from head to toe and take away all trepidation and shyness. “Your love is enough to make me feel like a free man. Say it again, and the weight of these chains will positively disappear. Ah, Sunray, don’t cry.”

Sniffling, Sunray turned and hugged Twilight closely. “I love you, brother,” he murmured again. Turning his head, he kissed Twilight’s cheek. Unthinking, only feeling, Twilight turned and his lips met Sunray’s.

Sunray’s lips were soft and supple against his, just as he had always dreamed that they would be. The faint perfume of him filled his senses as he breathed in deeply during their taboo kiss (ink, parchment, the robes worn by kings for many generation, and all the other little smells that made him think Sunray.)

His little brother pulled away first and the two stared at one another--the king, wide-eyed and shocked, a hint of hurt innocence about him and he with hungry, predatory eyes.

“We mustn’t breathe a word of this,” Sunray whispered shakily.

Twilight smiled, fainty, and moved in closer until their lips almost touched again. Sunray did not pull away. “It will be our little secret.”

“Yes…”

Twilight closed his eyes and kissed him again. It was more tender, this time, and they lingered over it. “Do you feel better now, little brother?”

“Aye, big brother.”

“Then go,” Twilight murmured and traced the soft curve of his brother’s cheek with his fingertips. “You’ve much to do. I’ll be here tomorrow after all. From now until forever. Always at your side.”

Contest #5

Kleio's Shop and Home (thumbnails provided, actual pictures are quite large so be warned)

Contest #4, Entry 3

((Forces, what the hell did I just write?))


Another ball, another night going through the motions of dancing and flirting and feigning discouragement in the face of his friends’ concern. He had to. Jonathan sighed and ran a hand through his fine, white-blond hair. They wouldn’t understand why he really didn’t need someone. He had someone, and they’d never take him seriously if he tried to explain it. Besides, he reasoned as he slipped into a darkened room, it was easier this way.

“My little secret,” he whispered, pausing to admire her form as she reclined against a pillow. The moonlight spilling over the bed seemed to grant her an almost ethereal glow, her jeweled gown creating a rainbow nimbus around her lean form. No feminine curves there, but Jon had never minded that. Her sapphire orbs sparkled up at him, a smile lurking in their depths. She knew why he was there.

Jonathan leaned down to kiss the smooth side of her neck—now there was a curve he did like—and murmured, “The ball’s ended, but let’s not linger here. The training rooms will be empty tonight.” Not even Emerald would be there; she’d likely be spending the rest of the night with her bard.

Her assent was unspoken, but the weaponmaster knew he had it. She went unyieldingly into his arms and pressed a cool kiss to his cheek before resting comfortably against his neck. It was risky, creeping into the palace halls with her in his arms. If anyone saw them, they would know something strange was going on.

“We could get caught this time,” Jonathan whispered, his arms tightening around her as he crept down the familiar path toward his “domain.” “Nobody would blame you, but I-- If they knew, if they saw….”

He gave a little shiver and his breath caught as she nuzzled the side of his neck. As much as the Ice-Wind berated his students for taking unnecessary risks in battle, he couldn’t deny that taking chances was exciting. Tension, adrenaline, desire, fear, knowing that at any moment, someone just might walk through the door….

It was probably a good thing nobody ever came to him for relationship advice.

They made it to the vacant training rooms without incident, and Jonathan gave a quiet sigh of relief before pushing her away to admire. She was beyond merely petite, but radiated strength rather than frailty. She stood proud as he trailed his fingers down her supple neck and swept them over firm shoulders. She knew as well as he did, that he was the one who would be undone. She enjoyed his attentions, but he melted at hers.

Really, he reflected, as his touch roamed lower, the only “delicate” thing about her was her gown. That would have to go, of course. But as his fingertips skimmed the edge of her neckline, her blue orbs seemed to darken and look very pointedly at his attire. Jonathan bowed his head in defeat and stepped away while she leaned against the wall to watch him disrobe.

His motions were slow and deliberate, though he didn’t try to make a show of it. The slow pace was a tease enough for the both of them. The weaponmaster shivered as the soft material of his formal dress slid over his skin to land unceremoniously in the floor, and he knew without looking that she was gazing at the scars crisscrossing his body with pleasure. Not because she liked to see him hurt. He could never love someone who took pleasure in his pain. No, to her, his scars were a sign of strength and survival, and he saw the approval reflected in her orbs when he looked back at her.

“My lady,” he murmured as he stepped up to her once more. This time, she let him undress her, and sighed as he slid the gown down her thin form. He set it aside with much greater care than he had his own clothes, laying it on a bench rather than allowing it to touch the floor.

He drew her to him, shivering at every light touch on his flushed, fevered skin and pressed gentle kisses to her neck and shoulders. “Dance with me,” the Ice-Wind said. “I’ve had to put up with strangers all night.” He couldn’t quite keep the plaintive note out of his voice, and her sapphire orbs glinted with amusement as she allowed him to place his hands.

The flowed effortlessly across their makeshift dance floor, Jonathan more relaxed here and with her than he could ever be at a ball, no matter who his partner was. Even without music, they moved in perfect harmony with one another, sweeping through the training room with unconscious grace, even as the Ice-Wind grew more acutely aware of the air caressing his skin and his lady’s bare form dancing before him.

Finally, the distraction of his own mounting desire forced him to misstep and they came to a stop, him kneeling to pant with a mixture of need and exertion, and her resting quietly, just within reach as she waited for the one word they both knew would come.

“Please.”

Her touch trailed everywhere, gentle and teasing, Jon’s skin so warm, it would have taken a Fire’s hands for a touch to not feel startlingly cool. He flinched and squirmed, clawing at the ground with one hand as the other tried to guide her to where he needed her.

“Please, please….”

The touch was there, and he closed his eyes, resting his forehead against the floor as she took her time with him…and then a sudden, forceful movement made his head snap up and he choked back a startled, pleasured cry. That wasn’t right, she couldn’t-- But she was there, and the way she had him made standing impossible. There was a gentle pulling back, and then a hand was over his mouth to muffle his cry at the next motion.

“Shhh…. Don’t wake the palace, Jon.”

He made a fist and bit down on it as blunt nails tickled down his back to where she was touching him so intimately. OhLoveohLoveohLove….

They weren’t alone. And she was-- And she was—

“Oh Love…,” he choked out.

After that, there was nothing but sensation. Not the gentle building he was accustomed to from his lover, but firm and purposeful touches that she seemed all to happy to give at the behest of the unexpected third party, who wasn’t shy at all about giving him a firm stroke or grope of her own.

At last he was spent, and once he’d come back to himself, face flaming with not only the situation, but how shamelessly he had reacted to it (Oh Love, had he really begged them both?), he raised up and turned to look behind him.

Emerald was sitting on one of the benches, carefully cleaning the hilt of Jonathan’s sword. At his movement, she looked up and smirked. “If you’d wanted a little romp in the training rooms, you should’ve just said.”

“I….” Jonathan cleared his throat and tried again. “I thought you were with Marion.”

Emerald shrugged. “Left the ball early, wore him out early. I came here to do a little swordplay.” She smirked again. “Guess I did.” Before the weaponmaster could reply, she set the sword aside and got to her feet. “I should probably try to get some sleep, though. You, too, unless you’d like me to tell Kleio where to find you.”

Jonathan turned crimson and started grabbing up his clothes. Emerald watched him for a moment, and, laughing, left the room. He yanked his pants on and pulled his shirt over his head before picking up his sword. The weaponmaster noted the almost smug gleam in the polished sapphires on the pommel and snorted.

Maybe next time, he would ask.