beautyiswhatwedesir
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Make sure to read part 3, part, 2, part 1 before diving in the part 4.
looksmax.org
The hallway was deathly silent, lit only by flickering chandeliers overhead. Every step K Shami and Clavicular took was muffled by the velvet rugs beneath their dress shoes. They had long ditched the casual banter. This was the endgame.
They passed gilded portraits—Gandy’s most iconic PSL moments immortalized in oil paint—his first mogshot, his victorious runway over Drago, even his edit fanposts made by Becky tier accounts. But the air shifted as they approached the innermost chamber.
The Vault of Ascension.
There it was.
An obsidian door with a golden PSL crest. No guards. No noise. Just a subtle humming from within.
Both of them pulled together to open the huge door, there it was… the books.
But first, Clavicular reached into his butler coat, pulling out a small pouch of flour stolen from the kitchen.
He whispered,
“Step back. We’re not Chads—we can’t tank a tripwire.”
He blew gently across the floor and…
White streaks caught the air—revealing a deadly web of red invisible lasers.
Dozens crisscrossing, guarding the pedestal ahead.
K Shami smirked slightly.
“This is why no one ever got them.”
He cracked his neck, eyes locking in.
His 5’10 softmaxxed frame was finally an advantage. He took a breath—then moved.
He dipped. Rolled. Twisted sideways. Stepped between microgaps.
Each motion was deliberate. The lasers skimmed past his temple, his clavicles, his jawline.
Then…
He stood at the center of the chamber, in front of three black leather-bound books, resting on a glass platform.
Gold lettering read:
K Shami didn’t waste a second. He opened his coat and gently pulled out three replica books—identical in weight, texture, and gold font.
He inhaled.
One by one, he lifted the originals, using his left hand, replacing them ones he wrote and ones clavicular wrote too in his right.
Even the slightest pressure shift could trigger the vault alarm.
But K Shami wasn’t just a hardmaxxed high-tier normie with dreams.
He had studied ratio science, trained in mirror dodge drills, and spent months shadowing HTN butlers from his cousin’s wedding job. JFL.
The switch was perfect.
No alarm.
No sound.
The room stood still.
He slid the real books into his suit. Turned.
Clavicular raised his brows.
“You didn’t trip a single laser. Almost looked... Chadlite.”
“Cope,” K Shami whispered, smirking. “Hardmaxxers don’t move like I do.”
Clavicular snorted.
“You’re lucky you're flexy or you’d be subhuman in here.”
They both chuckled under their breath, stepping back into the shadows.
The mission was complete.
The Ascending Books were stolen.
And no one in Gandy Heaven even knew yet.
The gods had been tricked… by two TikTokers.
but that wasn’t further from the truth…
K Shami crouched beside Clavicular, eyes wide with boyish awe as he held the three stolen Books of Ascension like sacred relics. His hands trembled. The gold trim shimmered in the faint emergency lights of the vault corridor.
“Bro… look at this,” he whispered like a kid seeing a Supercar for the first time.
“This shit’s gonna make us PSL Gods. That’s for sure...”
He held the book and inspects the gold plated font, the credits, the feeling of the real leather… he can’t wait to open it
Shami laughed.
“Bro I’m gonna acsend so hard they’ll think I was born Gandycored. We’ll be better than Jordan. Better than Damon. We’ll be—”
Click.
He stopped.
He felt a cold ring of metal pressed against the nape of his neck.
K Shami’s eyes slowly widened, pupils dilating.
He turned his head just enough to see—
Clavicular.
Smirking.
Gun in hand.
Black glove steady.
to be continued.
K Shami and Clavicular Way to ascension (Fanfiction) Part 3
Please read part 1 & part 2 first to understand thr story. https://looksmax.org/threads/k-shami-and-clavicular-way-to-ascension-fanfiction-part-2.1438051/ Shami’s Car hummed quietly under the moonlight, parked beneath a canopy of trees a few hundred feet from the golden-lit mansion. Gandy...
looksmax.org
The hallway was deathly silent, lit only by flickering chandeliers overhead. Every step K Shami and Clavicular took was muffled by the velvet rugs beneath their dress shoes. They had long ditched the casual banter. This was the endgame.
They passed gilded portraits—Gandy’s most iconic PSL moments immortalized in oil paint—his first mogshot, his victorious runway over Drago, even his edit fanposts made by Becky tier accounts. But the air shifted as they approached the innermost chamber.
The Vault of Ascension.
There it was.
An obsidian door with a golden PSL crest. No guards. No noise. Just a subtle humming from within.
Both of them pulled together to open the huge door, there it was… the books.
But first, Clavicular reached into his butler coat, pulling out a small pouch of flour stolen from the kitchen.
He whispered,
“Step back. We’re not Chads—we can’t tank a tripwire.”
He blew gently across the floor and…
White streaks caught the air—revealing a deadly web of red invisible lasers.
Dozens crisscrossing, guarding the pedestal ahead.
K Shami smirked slightly.
“This is why no one ever got them.”
He cracked his neck, eyes locking in.
His 5’10 softmaxxed frame was finally an advantage. He took a breath—then moved.
He dipped. Rolled. Twisted sideways. Stepped between microgaps.
Each motion was deliberate. The lasers skimmed past his temple, his clavicles, his jawline.
Then…
He stood at the center of the chamber, in front of three black leather-bound books, resting on a glass platform.
Gold lettering read:
- “The Aesthetics of Power”
- “The Key of The PSL GOD”
- “Godhood Through Ratio”
K Shami didn’t waste a second. He opened his coat and gently pulled out three replica books—identical in weight, texture, and gold font.
He inhaled.
One by one, he lifted the originals, using his left hand, replacing them ones he wrote and ones clavicular wrote too in his right.
Even the slightest pressure shift could trigger the vault alarm.
But K Shami wasn’t just a hardmaxxed high-tier normie with dreams.
He had studied ratio science, trained in mirror dodge drills, and spent months shadowing HTN butlers from his cousin’s wedding job. JFL.
The switch was perfect.
No alarm.
No sound.
The room stood still.
He slid the real books into his suit. Turned.
Clavicular raised his brows.
“You didn’t trip a single laser. Almost looked... Chadlite.”
“Cope,” K Shami whispered, smirking. “Hardmaxxers don’t move like I do.”
Clavicular snorted.
“You’re lucky you're flexy or you’d be subhuman in here.”
They both chuckled under their breath, stepping back into the shadows.
The mission was complete.
The Ascending Books were stolen.
And no one in Gandy Heaven even knew yet.
The gods had been tricked… by two TikTokers.
but that wasn’t further from the truth…
K Shami crouched beside Clavicular, eyes wide with boyish awe as he held the three stolen Books of Ascension like sacred relics. His hands trembled. The gold trim shimmered in the faint emergency lights of the vault corridor.
“Bro… look at this,” he whispered like a kid seeing a Supercar for the first time.
“This shit’s gonna make us PSL Gods. That’s for sure...”
He held the book and inspects the gold plated font, the credits, the feeling of the real leather… he can’t wait to open it
Shami laughed.
“Bro I’m gonna acsend so hard they’ll think I was born Gandycored. We’ll be better than Jordan. Better than Damon. We’ll be—”
Click.
He stopped.
He felt a cold ring of metal pressed against the nape of his neck.
K Shami’s eyes slowly widened, pupils dilating.
He turned his head just enough to see—
Clavicular.
Smirking.
Gun in hand.
Black glove steady.
to be continued.
Last edited:
