#Turquoise Women Earrings

[blingschlingersjewelry]

This beautiful, bold pair of Sterling Silver Drop Earrings make an eye-catching power jewelry statement!

With an exciting geometric design, a pop of vibrant baby blue turquoise, and a bold high polished filigree diamond shape setting, you'll never want to take them off!

Find these at online at Blingschlingers.com

[jewelrybystyle1]

Get Noticed with a Striking Turquoise Bone Necklace

Revel in nature's beauty with this 5-row turquoise bone bead necklace featuring gold matt balls, offering a unique blend of style and natural elements.

[shalomniscient]

@ the anon who sent in the fuckgirl feixiao ask, tumblr died on me and sent your ask into the void while i was working on it 💀💀💀 so i’m rewriting it as a regular post shdhskksks my apologies 😔😔😔 this has some abo themes and very generous usage of the ‘love at first sight’ trope. also do mind the tags !!!

cw. allusions to/mentions of slavery

feixiao likes to call herself the lacking general, for she lacks in rivals, regrets and worries. yet for all she enjoys this title, there are instances where it certainly does not apply. for example, she does not lack in loyalty, in strength and in courage. but perhaps most importantly, is thatshe very much does not lack in women.

the merlin’s claw has somewhat of a reputation for being a rather… notorious tomcat. it is not uncommon to find the general at one of the few turquoise pavillions dotted across the yaoqing. of course, these establishments are vetted and regulated by the responsible commissions, and any services provided within the walls of the compound are entirely legal. after all, it would certainly be quite the scandal if the general frequented a place outside the law for any other reason than to bring down its judgement. in any case, many of these establishments eagerly await the foxian’s arrival upon every victorious battle, which is when she arrives with her entourage of soldiers in tow, high off a win against the abundance devils. drink and pleasure and debauchery flow freely on these nights like lifeblood.

and in the middle of it all sits feixiao, the great general and the star of the show. she’s surrounded by courtesans eager for her attention, who giggle and coo and bat their lashes at each word she says. they’re pretty—naturally—and perhaps a little too well into their cups. the bolder ones reach out to touch her arms, bare of her coat, tracing their fingers over the muscles of her biceps. they breathe sultry promises into her ears, coy and inviting, but feixiao hardly hears a word, because she’s far too preoccupied looking at you.

you’re entertaining a group of her men, refilling their tankards and smiling politely as they babble drunkenly. she drinks in the sight of your profile from afar like you’re the only drink she’ll indulge in tonight, from the line of your jaw to the swell of your lips and the bare, exposed skin of your nape. her gaze lingers on your hands, definitely smaller than hers, and she wonders what it’d be like to lace them with her own. what it’d be like to feel them card through her hair, scratch the base of her ears, and cradle the curve of her cheek. something bone-deep aches in her, and she’s standing up and moving before her brain even catches up to her body. the whines of the courtesans she’s left behind don’t even register as she walks up to you, an unfamiliar but not unwelcome flutter in her chest.

(feixiao will later learn that what she feels is want. she doesn’t recognise it at first, because the first thing all slaves learn is that your wants are unimportant. but she is free now, has been for years, and this wanting in her chest is here to stay—and all it wants is you.)

so when you lift your head look at her, meeting her teal eyes, she’s completely and utterly gone.

feixiao has never believed in true mates. the childhood she had—if it could even be called such—could certainly kill any notion of fate or romance in a person. nothing could ever undo those scars, but something in her soothes at the sight of you and the scent of you that fills her nose, light and sweet like mint and honey. it settles on her tongue, and she swallows like she wants to drown in it. to feel it fill her lungs until it permeates into her blood. she runs her tongue under the pointed tips of her fangs, aching with want, before offering as charming a smile as she can muster and asking for your name.

you give it to her, and the rest, as they say, is history.

[sametsyun]

Beauty and the Beast

Shinazugawa Genya x Iguro Obanai's sister! OC

"Beautiful... Genya-san is very beautiful... I'm almost jealous of how bright you can smile..."

Strangers to frenemies, frenemies to friends, friends to lovers

tags: gore, blood, trauma, ptsd, insecurities, sexual themes, no smut, nudity, mdni, angst, platonic angst, abuse, self harming, eating disorders, sexual harassment, no use of y/n, oc x canon.

This gon be a full fic.

NOT AN X READER! I REPEAT! NOT AN X READER!

Prologue~ Chapter 1

Prologue

My brother was special as they said. From a long line of women only being born in the family, my brother was the first boy to be born after centuries. I didn’t know how he was so special or why I never see him.

I never understood anything in this family.

The sound of small footsteps pitter-pattering against the wooden floors were quiet and unsuspecting towards the sleeping residents of the manor. Tiny turquoise eyes peeked through a slightly ajar futsuma, looking out for anyone who could be awake. The door slides open and a toddler walks in, closing door behind her before carefully descending down the stairs.

There were many things I was restricted to do, many rooms I wasn’t allowed to go in. Had I not seen a relative of mine go into one of those rooms, I wouldn’t even bat an eye on it.

It was cold and dark when she reached the bottom. The usual wooden floors she would feel beneath her tiny feet were replaced with cold stones. Her eyes see nothing but darkness, yet her ears were quite sharp. She could hear something move not far from where she stood. Her feet followed the sound.

Had I not woken up that night, I wouldn’t have seen my brother.

An overwhelming scent entered her nostrils, making her scrunch her nose in distaste. It smelled of both new and old food. The further she walked the stronger the smell grew and her nose began to twitch at the gross smell. A small sneeze left her, unknowingly startling something near her.

A small glimmer of the moon shined through an open window by the ceilings of the basement. With the small amount of moon light, the girl looks up from her sneezing attack and turned towards the source of the smell with her nose scrunched up, only drop it once she sees what else was with the smell.

A small boy curled up against the wall with the strangest eyes she’s seen. The boy looked at her confused but still quite fearful. Upon seeing a new face, the girl’s eyes lit up with interest. Crawling up to the boy’s cage, she attempted to reach for him, her tiny hand barely even passing through the gap. Her big baby eyes glimmered with strange determination and interest for the boy.

He was confused.

He was confused as to who this tiny child was how she found him. With the small amount of moonlight, he wasn’t able to see her properly until she tried pushing her face through the gap. The fat of her baby cheeks smushed against the thick wood.

It was only then he was able to see her properly. Since she was a mere baby, he thinks it’s fine to get a little closer. So, the boy shuffles a little closer, and sits in front of her. The girl’s eyes visibly widened, reaching a hand towards him. The boy slowly reaches out as well, and their fingers touch.

They both smiled for the first time.

[caashmoneynae]

MY MASTERLIST. -> click here for more!

❦

HERE.

KING VON x @msinterlude 🤎

SUMMARY: in which Miya runs into a creep at a party & Von comes to her rescue. ✨

❦

"𝗥𝗘𝗠𝗘𝗠𝗕𝗘𝗥: 𝗪𝗘 𝗔𝗟𝗟 𝗚𝗢𝗧𝗧𝗔' 𝗦𝗧𝗔𝗬 𝗧𝗢𝗚𝗘𝗧𝗛𝗘𝗥 𝗧𝗢𝗡𝗜𝗚𝗛𝗧, 𝗔𝗟𝗥𝗜𝗚𝗛𝗧?" Miya's friend Imani asked, looking between the three girls in the car, as Miya sat in the passenger seat adjusting in her half-up half-down ginger locs and silently nodded her head while Kierra and Breanna vocally agreed, making Miya chuckle softly under her breath because she knew that none of them would end up staying together that night.

honestly, Miya wasn't a party person, so she didn't even know why she was going with her friends to a house party, but peer pressure was a motherfucker. at each party they've been to, the group would always end up splitting up and Miya would be left with one of her friends while the other two wandered off and couldn't be found until 30 minutes to an hour later, which was no longer a surprise to the light-skinned girl.

almost all of her friends would end up either tipsy or drunk, and she'd be the only one sober, which meant she'd have to take on a parental role to keep all of her friends safe from the creeps that attend parties for the wrong reasons. sometimes she didn't mind it, but other times it was annoying having to take care of three grown-ass women like she was their mother. however, as long as they were safe and sound, she couldn't necessarily complain like she wanted to.

Miya wore a brown, mid-thigh-length, spaghetti-strap dress, Imani wore a mid-thigh-length turquoise tube dress, Kierra wore a mid-thigh-length red backless dress that had strings that were tied around her neck, and Breanna wore a yellow two-piece that consisted of a crop-top and a mini skirt. each of them had a different style than the other, and it was evident in their outfits and hairstyles because none of them looked identical.

"if it ain't no fine niggas at this party, 'Mani, we gon' fight," Kierra threatened, raising a brow, as she crossed her arms and Imani chuckled while parking her car on the curb near the house, "i'an get all dressed up for some weak ass niggas, girl."

"you think i'ma bring you to a party where it ain't no fine niggas at? you think of me that lowly?" Imani pouted, resting her hand on her heart, "i'm hurt."

"you did it like twice before, 'Mani, ain't nobody forgot about that." Breanna laughed as Miya and Kierra laughed with her and Imani playfully rolled her eyes.

"playas' fuck up, a'ight?" Imani laughed, tucking her black tresses behind her ear, as she picked up her phone and checked her lips to make sure they were still glossy, "but i got the drop that it's gon' be some fineeee niggas in here from Von, and i basically had to beg him 'cause he talkin' 'bout some "i'on fuck wit' that gay shit, lil' folks." like, nigga, just tell me if it's  gon' be some good-lookin' niggas there or not!"

"you shoulda' knew his ass was gon' say some shit like that." Miya laughed, shaking her head, as the two girls in the backseat laughed with her and Imani playfully smacked her lips.

none of Imani's friends had actually met Von, they just listened to the stories she would tell about their interactions. but judging by her getting the drop that it'd be some fine niggas at the party, they all assumed he'd be there also.

the problem is... none of her friends even knew what he looked like, so they wouldn't even be able to introduce themselves to him if they "saw" him unless he spoke first.

"you right," Imani laughed, taking the keys out of the ignition and handing them to Miya to put in her purse since she didn't bring one, as she opened her car door and got out, "time to go nigga-searchin'!"

"shitttt, you got that right!" Kierra laughed, opening the back door and hopping out, her brown ass-length boho braids moving with her quick movements while she pulled her dress down and shut the door behind her before following behind Imani.

Miya and Breanna got out in sync, Breanna's honey-blonde low ponytail swaying back and forth as she got out. the two shut their doors and Miya let out a chuckle as she locked the car doors and put Imani's keys in her purse before zipping it up and adjusting the strap on her shoulder while she clutched it to her hip.

"this 'bout to be a longggg night."

—

the sound of Snoop Dogg's "Gin N Juice" blared into the large house as Miya and Breanna stood side-by-side, cups residing in both of their hands while Miya held her phone in the other.

just like she thought, the group had split up yet again, and this time it was Imani and Kierra who had wandered off, leaving Miya and Breanna to tend to each other. neither of them had a clue where they went and assumed they were most likely in the kitchen refilling their cups with liquor.

either that, or they were flirting with some random ass niggas they found because they thought they were cute.

nonetheless, the party was lame for Miya, and she didn't know how long her phone could occupy her before she went to search for her friends so they could all leave. she had gone through damn near all the apps on her phone and was now in her Notes app, sorting and deleting some of her notes to create space in her iCloud.

"aye, Bre', i gotta' use the bathroom! come wit' me real quick!" Miya yelled over the music, leaning closer to Breanna so she could hear her more clearly, as Breanna yelled back "okay!" and the girls went off to the bathroom, holding each other's hands so they don't get lost while Miya tossed her cup in the black trash can nearby.

Miya stepped inside the bathroom and locked it behind her as Breanna stood guarding the door so no one would go inside. the closed door muffled the loud music and Miya sighed in relief due to her incoming earache as she did her business, wiping her sex clean of urine before flushing the toilet. she washed her hands with the hand soap by the sink and was about the use the towel to dry her hands but paused, looking at it suspiciously.

"ain't no tellin' what somebody did to that shit." Miya mumbled to herself as she shook her hands dry and lightly patted them on her dress, being careful not to get her dress too wet in the process.

Miya adjusted her ponytail and watched it swing from side to side as she adjusted her breasts in her dress, protecting them from spilling out. she gently rubbed her temples with her index and middle fingers, preparing herself to be engulfed in the loud music for a second time.

opening the door, Miya thought she'd be greeted by Breanna, but she was unfortunately incorrect. Breanna was nowhere to be found once she opened the door, and this made Miya's eyebrows furrow in confusion and her heart drop to her stomach.

"where the hell..." Miya mumbled, yet it was inaudible due to the loud music and people around her, and she huffed as she ran her hand down her face, clutching her purse and phone tightly to her side while she began walking through the hall to try and find Breanna.

at this point, Miya was over the entire party. she just wanted to find her friends and go home, she didn't care about "enjoying" herself anymore. as long as she found her friends and left the party safely, that was all that mattered.

"ayo, light-skin! wassup with'chu, ma?" a man suddenly grabbed Miya by her wrist and pulled her towards him, making her face scrunch up in discomfort while she looked at the man, "you got a man, baby?"

"man, get offa' me. i'an interested in nothin' you sayin', take yo' hands off me." Miya retorted as she tried to snatch her hand back from the man but he tightened his grip on her, making her skin begin to crawl while the alcohol from his breath tickled her nose.

"don't be like that, light-skin, lemme' fuck with'chu," the man slurred, licking his cracked lips at the woman, as Miya cringed and tried to pry his grip off her wrist but to no avail, "you must ain't got no man, ma, 'cause if you was my bitch, i wouldn't let yo' fine ass out my sight."

"aye, nigga, get'cho hands off my girl, fuck you got goin', gang?" an unfamiliar voice spoke as the man carefully but forcefully yanked Miya's wrist out of the creep's grasp and nudged her behind him, confusing Miya even more but she was grateful for the help.

"oh, shit, m-my bad, Von, i'an k-know she was with'chu—"

"yeah, yeah, a nigga really ain't tryna' hea' all'at bullshit. keep it pushin', bitch ass nigga." Von retorted, bucking at him, as the creep flinched and quickly scurried away, nearly tripping over his own feet from how tipsy he was.

"Von? oh, so this is 'Mani's homeboy?" Miya thought in awe as Von turned to face her and gently grabbed her arm, analyzing her slightly-bruised wrist, "why she ain't tell me how fine this nigga is?"

Von wore a Dickies suit with a white tank top underneath his open top and white high-top Air Force 1s on his feet as an "O-Block" chain sat around his neck and jewelry rested on both of his wrists and his pinky finger, a red bandanna tied around his hairline while his two-strand twisted locs hung freely in his face.

if Miya's vibe hadn't gotten killed by that creep, she would've definitely shot her shot at that moment.

"you heard me, shorty?" Von's voice knocked Miya out of her thoughts as she looked up at him, subtly realizing the height difference between them.

"huh?"

"i asked if you was a'ight. you got a lil' bruise formin' right hea' an' shit." Von repeated, leaning down to her ear so she could hear him better, as his cologne flooded Miya's nostrils and she nearly melted in front of him.

"oh, my bad, i'm good. thank you for askin'." Miya assured, cracking a smile, as Von nodded his head and held out his hand, signaling for her to grab it and follow him.

grabbing onto his hand, Miya felt all her uncomfortableness wash away as her palm rested in his, following close behind him while he led her out of the crowded hallway and towards the front door. though Miya hadn't known him for long, something about him made her feel safe, and she didn't know what it was. regardless of what it was, she was grateful he showed up when he did, or Lord knows what would've happened to her.

the two walked out of the front door and Miya's eyes instantly locked on her friends. Imani and Kierra were flirting with what seemed like two men who were friends and Breanna stood by the car on her phone tapping vigorously like she was texting someone. suddenly, Miya's phone began buzzing over and over again, and once she checked it, she realized Breanna had been texting her the whole time and none of her messages had delivered until now because Miya didn't have good service in the bathroom or the hallway.

come to find out, Von spotted Breanna being hit on by the same creep that approached Miya, and he defended her and took her outside with Imani and Kierra, but because Miya's phone didn't have good service, Breanna couldn't warn her about the creep in time, so she sent Von back inside to go look for Miya because her intuition told her that something was wrong.

"aye, Bre', i got ha' fa' you." Von announced, making Breanna look up from her phone, as Von let Miya's hand go and Breanna quickly rushed over to the girl, engulfing her in a hug while Miya embraced her with a soft chuckle.

"you okay? you ain't run into that creepy ass drunk nigga, did you?" Breanna questioned, letting her go, as she tucked strands of her hair behind her ears.

"i'm good, Bre'. and unfortunately, i did, but i'm okay, i just got a lil' bruise on my wrist, that's all," Miya assured, showing the girl her bruise, as she looked up at Von before looking back at Breanna, "you should've seen the way he started stutterin' when Von came. if i wasn't uncomfortable as hell, i woulda' busted out laughin'."

"he did the same shit when i was in there, niggas don't ever learn they lesson, girl," Breanna chuckled, analyzing her wrist and gently holding it in her hand before letting it go, "lemme' get the keys off you, My'My, i'm 'bout to go sit in the car 'til y'all ready to go."

Miya took her purse off her shoulder and handed it to Breanna as she took it and walked off to the car, digging in it and grabbing the keys while she unlocked the doors and slid into the passenger seat. as if on cue with the car door closing, Von and Miya locked eyes, a shy smile creeping onto Miya's face while she broke away from his gaze and glanced at the ground.

"thank you for steppin' in back there with that creep. if it wasn't for you, i would've had more than just a lil' bruise." Miya thanked him as Von chuckled at seeing her purposely avoid his gaze and cracked a small smile.

"you scareda' me a'sum'?" Von joked as Miya's smile slightly widened and she laughed, their eyes locking for a second time while Miya slightly fiddled with the strap on her dress, "but that ain't nun', Miya, i'm just doin' what a real nigga 'posed to do, y'know what i'm sayin'? niggas ain't 'posed to be doin' no ho ass shit like that to no female."

"duh, i know that, but still... thank you for bein' there, Von," Miya smiled as Von smiled at her and nodded his head, "any way i can repay you for your heroic act?"

"yeen' gotta' do nun', shorty, it's cool," Von assured, pushing his locs out of his face, "but since you offerin', lemme' get'cho numba' and lemme' take you on a date."

"...you fo'real?" Miya hesitantly asked, raising a brow, as a large smile slowly spread across her face.

"i'm deadass, shorty. i'an call you my girl fa' no reason," Von chuckled as Miya's brows slightly furrowed before she quickly realized that he did say that when he came to her defense, "plus, i gotta' make sure you straight at all times, ma. can't have no otha' random ass creepy niggas fuckin' with'chu, gang."

"mhm... i guess," Miya joked, blushing, as Von laughed and she held out her hand, wanting him to give her his phone, "where you gon' take me, Von?"

"now, why would i tell you that, ma?" Von chuckled as the two swapped phones and exchanged numbers, "i want it to be a surprise. it wouldn't be a surprise no mo' if i told you where i wanna take you, Miya."

"okay, you got a point," Miya laughed as she took her phone back and her eyes locked on his contact name, "Von 🦁", making her smile before she turned her phone off, "it's gettin' late, i should probably go get my girls from them random niggas over there before they get kidnapped."

"aye, my niggas ain't no kidnappers, girl. 'Mani and Kierra in good hands," Von chuckled, catching Miya off guard because she had no idea he and her friends' acquaintances were connected, "but you should be gettin' home anyway. you got a curfew, lil' mama."

"oh, please, boy, i'm grown as fuck," Miya playfully sassed as the two laughed before Miya turned her attention to her friends, "aye, lover girls! time to go home!"

as if on cue with Miya's words, Breanna started up the car, the headlights shining into the front yard while Kierra and Imani came stumbling over to the vehicle with drunken smiles on their faces.

"well, i got kids to take care of. see you later, Vonny." Miya joked as Von chuckled and the two embraced each other in a warm hug, his hand gently grabbing her arm and kissing her bruised wrist before the two parted ways.

"let me know when you make it home and i'ma call you, a'ight?" Von asked as Miya smiled and heard a car door shut, making her glance behind Von to see Imani and Kierra in the backseat.

"I will."

[thevampiremarie]

Magindara

When invaders threaten your home, life, and people, you, a sirena, strike a desperate bargain with Dream of the Endless to save them all.

Dream of the Endless x mermaid!reader, one shot (for now)

Tags: war, gore, torture, death/murder, mentions of SA, slavery, things that generally come with colonialism

Inspired by the episode “Jibaro” from the Netflix show Love Death + Robots. This one shot draws heavily from Filipino mythology, culture, and history. I ENCOURAGE and INVITE people who don’t come from a Filipino background to read this story and enjoy! There is so much beauty to be had in cultures of color, for everyone. Just as I have read many stories steeped in Greek, Celtic, Norse, medieval England, etc cultures, without coming from those backgrounds, I humbly ask you do the same and entertain this little fic. Thank you. I may write a follow up if there’s interest. Glossary at the end.

-

From the banks of your river, you can hear the horses.

Metal plate clangs and screeches against itself, swords jostle in their sheaths, and shields bump where they rest on armored backs so loud that you want to scratch your sensitive ears out, just to make the sounds stop.

Your ates and kuyas hide deep below in the caverns known only to your kind. When you close your black eyes, you feel them tugging at the edges of your mind like little lights in the deep darkness of the sea. They believe that will be enough to save them.

Only you have braved the surface, because only you know what these strange men upon their strange beasts want.

They want the gold in the dark, fertile earth. You don’t understand why - it’s just shiny metal. Only the dwarves under the hills covet it. But the men who ravage your lands and your kin like wildfires, grasping everything and destroying it in the same breath, care very much. They want the never-dying orchids that line the banks and the brilliant emerald green vitality bursting from every leaf and vine that could keep a mortal alive for a thousand years. They want to feed their glory on your broken bodies. They want to take the people you protect for slaves, the women shamed and disgraced and the men subservient and humiliated.

You’ve seen it for yourself.

You’ve tasted the water of streams running red with blood, the iron like acid on your blue tongue.

You’ve swam farther and seen enough to make you hate. Families torn apart, children with their hair cut off and given names in an ugly language, forbidden to speak their own - the same language you speak. Fathers dragged onto large ships, larger than a butandíng, never to return. Altars burned. The men put your red sisters who live in the balete trees, their hair tangled with vines and lovely, fierce, flickering yellow eyes, to the flame. You witnessed their dying howls and curses for vengeance.

Some of the white-haired annani have already begun to clip their pointed ears, tear the crowns of flowers from their hair, and even cut out their tongues so as to lock away the magic these men desire, never to be spoken again. “There is no place for us,” Those tall, graceful elves told you. “We will be gone in a generation, by sword or by starvation.”

They’re coming.

The jungle is quiet as it has never been in a thousand years.

You could no more hide your tail, glittering blue and turquoise, with long, sweeping fins like ferns, than you could hide the long sweep of hair that reaches your waist, or the ink-black lines embedded on your skin, painting your face, your neck, and your arms with the story of your people and your home.

The calls that echoed from the depths of the river have stopped. It seems that your family has accepted that you won’t come back.

You look at your webbed hands, test your claws against your flesh. What is one magindara to a hundred conquistadors?

When the men spear you, they won’t just be slaughtering a mermaid. They’ll be killing the stories you keep. Centuries of stories. Countless names. Each pearl around your neck is a tribe, full of the old songs of grandmothers and the new rhymes of babies. You’re draped in thousands of shimmering strands of pearls.

You may not be the cleverest, or the most beautiful, or the one with the sweetest voice…

But you can be the bravest.

“Lord Morpheus,” You intone, frowning as the syllables ripple wrong and harsh from your throat.

You’ve never spoken to any of the gods beyond your islands before. “Dream of the Endless.” All you can do is hope and pray this one listens and comes to you in time. Will they be kind? Will it be merciful? Will he, or she, save your home?

Perhaps such a god does not exist at all, and you are praying to wind and sunlight, and soon your guts will color the cerulean water purple and black. The strange men will defile your body, no doubt. A week ago, you crawled from your river to cut down the corpse of a long-gone ate from a stake, jagged holes ripped into the tail of her corpse that made you vomit and her dead eyes full of pain.

Once you’d laid her to rest in the water, she dissolved into nothing. “Prince of Stories,” You sing. That is what faces everything you’ve ever loved if you fail.

“I beg you, save us. Save our stories, our dreams. We call for your aid.”

The men bark at each other. Any moment now, they’ll see you, your hands raised and your face tipped towards the heavens, inky flowers blooming on your forehead and cheeks and crocodile teeth tattooed on the sharp line of your jaw.

A new quiet falls over the world. Like nighttime, when things are resting, not dead.

You have called, and I answer.

A being stands on the banks of your river in the shape of a man. His hair is blacker than Bakunawa’s maw and his eyes are filled with gold and silver stars brighter than any you’ve seen before. His pale skin carries no markings.

He is as grotesquely, menacingly beautiful as the razor’s edge of shark teeth, as a great python curling in a tree, as an eagle with its claws stuck in the beating, bleeding heart of a monkey.

You feel the weight of his gaze on your brow heavier and hotter than the sun on the longest day of summer, burning out the truth in your heart. “I would bargain with you, Dream Lord. For my people, and my land, and my home, which I love more than my own life.”

What would you have me do? When Lord Morpheus speaks, his voice pours through your mind ringing like the purest, clearest freshwater.

The many jewels around your throat, pearls, sapphires, rubies, diamonds, plates of beaten gold, click as you swallow nervously.

The dream king stands so tall that he could touch the sky if he reached up. And he doesn’t look away or blink. You can’t read the inhuman planes of his face whatsoever, you can’t find any familiar sign in his long limbs that might bring comfort. For all you know, you’ve spelled your doom.

“Keep them alive. Keep our names and spirits alive. Bring our stories into your kingdom so that we won’t be forgotten. That is what the men want. They want to raze us to the ground and rebuild the world in their image but we will not go.” You pause. “We will never, ever go,” You growl, fierce and deadly, around a mouth full of fangs. In your words you pour the horrors you’ve seen, combined with the beauty surrounding the two of you.

The hot, muggy air, the warm rain, the scent of night-blooming jasmines. Orange mangoes, bursting with sweetness, bamboo sticks clacking as joyful youths dance in and out of them, laughing gaily. Rolling drums. Bright feathers tucked into black hair. A toddling child reaching out to her grandmother with a chubby-cheeked smile, pressing the back of the withered, ancient hand against her little forehead. Love, so much love.

I have not walked these lands before.

You found traces of Lord Morpheus scribbled in the margins of paper and in the back alleys of lost dreams. Your last and only hope.

When you went to Diyan Masalanta, she wept and showed how the soldiers bound her hands. When you cried out to her brother, Apolaki, the sun god called back and said the invaders took his shield.

Bathala is gone. Mayari is gone. Lakapati is dead. The conquistadors stripped her naked, cut her ribs from her chest, and planted her bones in the fields they set their slaves, your people, to work.

“They say you are Endless. You preside over all beings in all places. Please, I beg you, preside over us. Are we not worthy of your favor? Do we not deserve to live in your dreams and nightmares?”

If Lord Morpheus refuses you, you’ll cut your throat before you let your enemies have you.

He tilts his head like he can hear your thoughts. One shining hand stretches out, almost as if to touch your face. You sing prettily, little siren. You draw back with a start. Why is there hunger in his voice? A hollow, all-consuming, terrifying hunger?

You know what it feels like to starve when the fish are scarce. This is leagues away, a typhoon to your trickle of rain. Shadows bloom under his hollowed cheeks. His pupils eclipse his brilliant aquamarine irises.

He’s-

He’s aching.

Morpheus flashes his bone-white teeth as he bends at the waist to examine you further. His gaze traces your tattoos, your large, frightened eyes, and your body beneath the necklaces and bracelets.

As scared as you are, as convinced that you’ll bleed the instant his fingers brush your blue-streaked skin, your numb lips move.

“I vow to you now, Lord Morpheus, before every god and being I know, that should you render us this aid, I will give you anything within my power to grant that you wish.”

Anything?

“Name it, my lord, and it shall be yours.” With that, your eyes flutter shut as you await his judgment.

You can’t hide from him, even in your mind. You don’t see him, but you feel a straining pressure build where he prods at you, pushing on the fragile edges of your being like he’s cracking a duck egg. He claws and scrapes until-

I will aid your people.

You open for him like a sampaguita flower. Dream of the Endless picks through your soul like he’s picking blossoms, you feel how much he wants with every brush, every long moment where he sticks his fingers in and relishes the feel of you. Nothing has ever touched you like this before.

He’s on his knees on the riverbank, the dark soil pressing into his clothes. His hands clench the rocky edge of the bank. Your wet hair sticks to your back as you rise up, close enough that you can count his night-black eyelashes. There’s a dizzying amount of them.

“Thank you. Thank you. Salamat-po. And your price, majesty?”

You’ll do whatever he wants. Does his thirst demand souls? You’ll harvest them by the dozen. You can picture Lord Morpheus unhinging his jaw, swallowing those soldiers whole. Their swords wouldn’t even scrape him going down. Riches? You have no use for them if you’re dead. He can take every speck of wealth to be had.

You. I want you.

Your sisters and brothers wail. They sense the foreign king tearing at the flesh binding you together. They feel him taking a knife to your indigo heart and cutting it loose from your body. Your head tilts back as you gasp for breath and see him hold the organ aloft. Dark blood trails in rivulets down his wrists.

“I-“

There are no creatures like you in my realm. So I shall have you, in every way that I wish, and you’ll obey. Those are my terms.

Your tail lashes in the water as if you fight hard enough, you can swim away. The cavity pulses with searing, unholy pain. You’ve made a mistake. You’ve summoned- He is an aswang, a devil, a soul-eater, you’ll never see your home again, you’ll never touch the water you’ve known since birth.

Lord Morpheus brings your heart to his mouth. His lips are beautifully-formed. You can’t find it in yourself to hate such a wondrous creature. Even your amethyst ichor looks more beguiling when he’s covered in it.

It was never a question. “Yes, my lord. I accept these terms.”

His white teeth stain purple when he sinks them into your heart.

-

Glossary:

Ate (ah-tey) - sister

Kuya (koo-yah) - brother

Butandíng - whale shark

Balete tree - very cool large tree native to Southeast Asia

Annani - elves from the stories of the Ibanag people, who look like humans with pointed ears. They are kind guardians of the forest and often share healing knowledge with humans if treated with respect.

Magindara - mermaids from the folklore of the Bicolano people. Beautiful half human, half fish guardians of rivers/streams/lakes/the oceans, who sing to lure fisherman and warriors to their death but leave children unharmed.

Bakunawa - a great mythic serpent and god/goddess of darkness. Various myths place Bakunawa responsible for eclipses.

Diyan Masalanta - Tagalog goddess of love, war, childbirth

Apolaki - Tagalog god of the sun and war, patron saint of warriors, soldiers, modern day patron saint of Filipino traditional martial arts (Kali/eskrima/arnis) practitioners

Bathala - the Tagalog supreme creator god

Mayari - the Tagalog goddess of the moon, war, revolution, and justice. She fought her brother Apolaki for dominion over the heavens.

Lakapati - the Tagalog goddess of fertility, food, bounty, balance, and prosperity. She represents both male and female and has both male and female genitalia. Patron saint of queer/trans people.

Sampaguita - the Filipino name for sambac jasmine, the national flower of the Philippines

Salamat-po (sah-lah-maht poh) - thank you (utmost respect) in Tagalog

Aswang - overall name for the malicious/demonic/monstrous beings in Filipino folklore. Vampires, zombies, ghouls, organ eaters, cannibals.

I hope you guys liked this! Let me know if you have any questions or want to read more from this.

[whumpninja]

This one’s a bit vague when it comes to being a prompt fill but I LIKE it so who CARES. I TOLD you I would maybe write Traitor but from Tomás’ perspective and I DID it. (Traitor is a historical two-shot that you can find on my masterlist!)

Prompt used: Whumptober, alternate prompt- regret

Featuring: held at swordpoint, mentions of execution, uncertainty, mark of shame, sword cuts, blood

Whumptober Day Eight: Hero

In the heat of the moment, there had been anger. Anger, and fear, and the racing heartbeat that told him he had to survive, he had to fight, he had to win this because it was more than just his own life if he lost.

And he had won. He had won, and now the anger and adrenaline had faded.

Tomás couldn't name what he was feeling now. He had the governor's son in the dust at his feet, and he had thought this moment would feel triumphant but it just felt...numb. He had a sword in his hand that didn't feel like it belonged there.

My father's sword. At the throat of his murderer's son.

Mateo Rivera had changed since Tomás and his mother had been exiled. He was taller, leaner, all sharp edges. He was dressed like royalty, in a gold jacket and black shirt and a beautiful turquoise medallion, at odds with the villagers in their faded finery and clay beads. His eyes blazed hatred in a way they hadn't when the two of them were children. He was fierce and angry. But Tomás was stronger, and better with a sword.

"Tomás!" Fidelia's voice. She ran to him, and he held her close, relieved that she was there. Fidelia had been the one to fetch him from the desert, to spur him on to fight the governor, and then to fight his son. Tomás knew little for certain anymore- everything kept changing so quickly- but he knew that he loved her. And she had kissed him at the feast, so he was reasonably sure she loved him back.

He kissed her again now, careful not to lose his grip on the sword. And then he turned back to his enemy. "It's over," he announced, pitching his voice so the entire crowd could hear. "You've lost, Rivera." It was meant for the whole family of them, though he directed it at the son.

The villagers burst into life, cheers rising to a deafening pitch. "What now, Tomás?" a shopkeeper called out. "What do we do with these traitors?"

Why are you asking me? Tomás thought blankly.

It must have shown on his face, for the baker spoke next. "You're the hero of this village. Whatever you think is best, we'll do."

The governor, of course, said something insulting. Tomás barely heard it. Am I truly their hero? Is this decision really mine to make?

A farmer, grinning, said "We have rope handy. We could have all three strung up before sundown."

Tomás turned on him. "I am not Governor Rivera," he replied sternly. "There will be justice on the governor and his wife, but not without a fair trial. Is that agreeable to you?”

"We trust you, Tomás," someone else promised.

Tomás breathed out hard. Why is this so difficult? "Good. Then you can take former Governor Rivera and his wife to-"

"Wait a minute!" broke in another shopkeeper. "I can wait to watch the ex-governor pay his dues, but the boy tried to steal away Fidelia. He’s drawn your blood, Tomás." There was a cut in Tomás' arm, staining the sleeve of his shirt. He hadn't even noticed. Fidelia was there in moments, pressing a handkerchief against it.

"Our beautiful Fidelia was nearly forced to be the bride of the governor’s brat," added one of the women. "Surely that deserves punishment here and now.”

Tomás' heart pounded. What are they expecting me to do? Kill him?

A death in the midst of a swordfight would have been different. But a cold-blooded murder- an execution- Tomás couldn't do that. He couldn't.

Fidelia stood on her toes to whisper in his ear. "Tomás...I don't want to see him die. Can't you do something? There has to be something that will satisfy them."

Think of something! Tomás told himself. An idea came to mind- it was harsh, but it would appease them. He hoped.

He raised his voice again, tried to make it sound like his father's voice had sounded once, before it was silenced by the governor’s sword. "Townspeople!" he called out. "The Rivera family has failed you! They had a chance to be good, selfless rulers. Instead they overtaxed you, stole anything of value you possessed, and nearly drove this place into a famine. Were it not for Fidelia’s brave journey into the desert to bring me my father’s sword, this village might have been choked to death in the grip of the Rivera family. They are traitors! And while the former governor and his wife will face their own judgment for their crimes, their son will be marked as a traitor here and now.”

He met Mateo's eyes beyond the sword point. If there was fear there, he hid it well.

"Will you struggle?" Tomás asked. He needed to know. If Mateo fought him, Tomás could very well end up stabbing him in the heart.

Tomás had seen enough people run through with a sword.

Mateo glared up at him almost scornfully. "No."

Tomás steeled himself, cutting away the shirt and jacket and medallion first. Mateo, true to his word, held still. Tomás gritted his teeth as he cut into the younger man's chest, writing a symbol with blood as his ink. He cut deep enough to scar, but no more.

Then he pulled Mateo up and out into the circle of villagers so they could all see what he had done.

He'd carved the letter T- the symbol for a traitor- into Mateo's chest.

There were murmurs of approval from the townspeople. The governor looked murderously angry. His wife was very pale, although she kept her head high and said nothing.

Tomás stood there in the middle of them all with a bloody sword in his hand, unsure of what to do or say next. He stared at the drops of red blood in the dust. Am I a hero now? he thought to himself, and did not know the answer.

[savanaclaw1996]

A Whole New World With You-Jamil Viper x Fem! Reader!

My submission for the Jamil Summer Competition by @merotwst and @cvlutos. Hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Yasmina Silk Fireworks Festival spoilers, mentions of Chapter 4 spoilers!

Word Count: 1,760 words.

Enjoy!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------When Grim heard about the summer fireworks festival in the Land of Scalding Sands that is to be hosted by Kalim, he demanded that they take both him and (Y/n) to the Land of Scalding Sands.

Jamil was incredibly reluctant about this, of course. On one hand, he really wanted to bring his lady crush, aka (Y/n), over to the Land of Scalding Sands to tour around his hometown, to see the fireworks and to spend time with you.

But on the other, he was going to be extremely busy with the festival preparations that he wouldn't have time to do all of that. Of course, none of that went unnoticed by Kalim.

He was aware of Jamil's growing crush on you ever since you saved him from his Overblot during winter break. He was happy that Jamil had found someone to love. And so, he pleaded with Jamil that he wanted to show (Y/n) the wonderful lifestyle of his hometown.

Finally, with great reluctance, Jamil relented, mostly to stop both Grim and Kalim from whining his ear off. Having to deal with six guests sounds exhausting enough. The last thing he wanted was to suffer another headache.

However, he was secretly happy that you get to come along with them. He honestly couldn't wait to show you around his homeland, and he hoped that getting to spend time with you would be worth the hassle.

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

When Kalim and Jamil, along with you, Grim, Trey, Cater and Malleus, arrived in Silk City, the center of the Land of Scalding Sands, you marveled at the sight around you. The buildings, the canal, the bridge, and the palm trees. It was as if you were suddenly transported into an Arabian fairytale.

"Wow! I never knew Silk City would be this beautiful!" you exclaimed. Jamil felt a sense of pride when he heard your praise about the city he grew up in. As he and Kalim explained the geography, history and economy of their country and their ancestors, you listened with great interest. There's a lot of really interesting stuff to learn in Silk City.

After the seven of you arrived at the Al-Asim manor, Kalim decided to have you, Trey, Cater and Malleus dressed in the traditional outfits of the Land of Scalding Sands as a surprise to make them remember their trip and to have them feel the history of their country.

And so, Trey, Cater and Malleus, including Jamil all got themselves dressed in the Scalding Sands traditional outfits. "I'm done!" you called out as you emerged, wearing your new outfit.

As everyone looked, they were all stunned by your appearance, but none were more stunned than Jamil. Your (h/l) (h/c) locks were tied into a ponytail in two sections with matching peacock-green bands. You wore a turquoise bandana centered with a sapphire gem adorned into it and a long transparent veil behind your hair. Two large golden earrings and a matching necklace completed the finishing touch.

Jamil never thought much about beautiful women in his lifetime, for he had seen many beautiful women in Silk City. However, you were completely different. There was something about you that caught his eye. What was it? He couldn't put his finger on it.

As he watched you walking towards him in an elegant manner, you looked like a royal princess, similar to the beautiful princess in tales of old...

"Jamil-kun, your mouth's hanging open." Cater pointed with a laugh. Jamil immediately closed his mouth. Why was his mouth hanging open? Was he really that stunned by (Y/n)'s beauty in your new Scalding Sands outfit? What was going on with him?

Jamil blushed with embarrassment. He had to be careful, lest he embarrasses himself more. (Y/n) then took notice of his fancy outfit and smiled at him. "Wow, I like your outfit! You look like a prince. So handsome." you complimented.

That did it. Jamil blushed darkly at your compliment. Him? A prince? Ridiculous. There's nothing princely about him. He's merely a servant. Nevertheless, he appreciated your compliment.

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

Before long, Jamil escorted you, Grim, Trey, Cater and Malleus to the Camel Bazaar. There, Grim saw a shawarma stall and drooled at the delicious food. Jeez, that cat monster, he's always thinking about his next meal. You were pretty hungry yourself, as were your friends.

So Jamil ordered six shawarma for the seven of you, but then he noticed that his was missing. As Trey counted heads, the group saw that the thief who stole Jamil's shawarma was none other than...

"Hmm, what's wrong, Jamil-kun? Your lips are quivering." Cater said with a smile as Jamil stared bug-eyed at the dark-haired girl standing next to Trey with his shawarma.

"NAJMA?!" Jamil screamed. What was his little sister doing here?! He didn't have time to deal with her! "Go home, Najma!" he said sternly. But Najma was offended. "So cruel! And I just came all this way to deliver you a message from our father." she said with a pout.

(Y/N) chuckled. When Najma pouted, she certainly takes after her brother. "Why don't we let her come with us?" you asked. Jamil crossed his arms. "Absolutely not!" he yelled. He didn't want to start taking care of seven people all at once.

"Oh, come on. I would love to get to know her better." you said. Najma beamed at you with shiny eyes. "Really?" she asked. When you nodded, she smiled happily. Jamil groaned. This is going to be a long day.

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

Najma was so happy that she got to see her big brother. And she was quite surprised that he brought a pretty girl with him. Who is she? She has to know!

"So, Jamil, is (Y/n) your girlfriend?" she asked. Jamil blushed furiously before he pressed his finger to his lips and shushed her harshly. "Don't be ridiculous! She's not my girlfriend!" he said. "She's just a classmate from school." But Najma wasn't fooled.

She noticed the way Jamil would softly smile at you as he talked to you. He had never done that to any girl before he enrolled in Night Raven. So that would mean...

"Could've fooled me, big brother. It's so obvious that you like her." she said with a teasing grin. "Najma..." Jamil said, giving her a warning glare. "Alright, alright." she said, holding her hands up in surrender. However, she still had one last remark.

"You know, I'd love to have her as a future sister-in-law one day." she said. "NAJMA!!!" Jamil shrieked with a red, flustered face. Najma Viper has the last laugh.

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

Jamil spent the rest of the day showing you and the group some food stalls and souvenir stalls. It was such a strange feeling. Jamil had never felt like this before. Strolling through the market with your crush, it's almost like a...

A date?! Jamil quickly pushed that embarrassing thought out from his head. "Get a grip on yourself, Jamil!" he silently scolded himself. He was a servant to the Al-Asims. He was always busy, he never had time to fall in love with anyone.

After his Overblot incident back during winter break, he tried to find ways to punish you for ruining his plans, but after seeing that you were willing to help him to make his work easier, he soon found himself enamored by you, despite trying to resist his feelings.

After catching the thief that stole the USB drive for the fireworks launchers, Jamil sat beside you as the two of you watched the fireworks paint the starry night sky with bright colors.

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

You then turned to Jamil. "Jamil, there's something I've been wanting to tell you." you said. "What is it?" he asked. "Well... you've worked very hard giving us a tour of the bazaar. I really had a wonderful time." you said.

Jamil smiled. Hearing that meant that it was worth the hassle if you had a wonderful time. "As long as you fully enjoyed yourself, that is above all." Jamil said. "For me it became a very... memorable day."

"Well, I did have fun. Silk City is amazing." you said, looking at Jamil. "Don't look away, watch the fireworks. Especially since I went through the trouble to bring you here. I need you to spread the world that the fireworks of the Scalding Sands are amazing." Jamil said.

"The fireworks are amazing, but there's something, or rather someone, far more amazing than the fireworks." you said, not looking away. "And who might that be?" Jamil asked, raising a suspicious eyebrow.

You smiled at Jamil before you leaned towards him and kissed him right on the lips. Jamil flinched as you pulled away from him, his cheeks burning red. "You, Jamil." you replied. "She kissed me! She KISSED me!" his mind shouted and his heart beat wildly in his chest.

"You're the most amazing person in the world. Spending time with you is the highlight of it all." you whispered tenderly. For a moment, Jamil said nothing for his mind and heart were racing.

He couldn't believe it! His crush had kissed him right on the lips! Was this a dream? No, it couldn't be...! Another kiss on the lips snapped him out of his shock. He looked as (Y/N) smiled sweetly at him. "I love you, Jamil. Now and always." you softly whispered.

"In the future, we'll go to wherever you want to go. Let me share a whole new world with you. Now and forever, I'm yours, Jamil."

An elated smile slowly crept over Jamil's lips. This isn't a dream. All his life, he had nothing to claim as his own. If he ever found a girlfriend, he would have to give her up to Kalim as his future wife.

However, you came along and banished all of those unpleasant thoughts from his head. You gave him his very first kiss, proving that you chose him over Kalim. A surge of joy leapt in Jamil's heart as he kissed you back so passionately as the fireworks exploded in the sky.

A sudden shrill whistle pierced the air, making the both of you pull away from each other. "Whoo! Way to go, (Y/N)!" Cater whooped as he held up his phone, likely having captured the whole event on video. "What a cute couple you two make." Trey added with a mischievous smile.

"I knew you two were meant to be together!" Najma added joyfully. "Congratulations, Jamil!" Kalim cheered. Jamil groaned in embarrassment as he glared at the group. "Those guys... I swear I'll get them for this later...!"

[hannibalzero]

blast from the past

Charthur dabble!

🦌🦬🦌🦬

Heading into the general store, Mary Linton…or was it Gills again?

Windowing was such a hard time.

Mary gave a nod to the man that held the door open for her. She had come to Valentine to get her brother Jamie to come back home.

Daddy and Jamie had a fight.

…again.

Just wanting sometime to do, going to the general for a sewing book. Mary spotted a familiar black hat with a fired rope but now had beads on it. That handsome back, strong and broad. Worn blue jeans that showed off the cowboys-

Mary hand to stop herself for a moment.

She was a church going women after all.

But it couldn’t be.

Arthur Morgan, all grown up.

Not the boy she almost ran away with.

Almost married too.

But he was standing next to the sewing books, looking down at a set of paper dolls. One in each hand. Brow furrowed as he chewed on a tooth pick, trying to make a decision on something he had no understand off.

Mary wished she had pulled her corset a bit tighter now, taking out her compact she tuck a bit of hair behind her ears and checked her powers. She looked fine, not great but acceptable.

Finding her voice, Mary made her move.

“Hello Arthur.” She said,

Those same blue eyes of the boy that loved her so, looked to her as a grown man. Time had been kind to Arthur, age had made him handsome. Strong and well a man of the west.

Surprise lit up Arthur’s face. “Mary Linton, it’s been’a long time.” Arthur greeted shuffling the books of paper dolls to his chest as he tipped his hat, a ring caught Mary’s eye. She had no clue what material it was but turquoise was imbedded in it. “You look well.”

“It’s…Gill’s again…” Mary shuffled

“Sorry to hear that.” Arthur gave a nod of his head. “What brings you, here?”

“Oh um, Jamie. He’s bound and determined to set up an apple orchard. Dropped out of school, daddy if awfully upset.”

Arthur nodded and looked back to the paper dolls at hand.

“Do you? Live here?” Mary asked

“Naw, passin’ through.” He looked to Mary now. “Can I ask ya somethin? Need a women’s opinion.” Arthur asked surprising Mary, maybe Arthur has changed? He used to jump at the idea of helping her.

Mary blinked “I suppose.”

“My littlest is about ta be four, been wantin’ paper dolls like her big sister. But there are so many? Ladies and pets…cuse she loves critters. Or maybe the babydoll one? She’s fascinated because we have a new baby comin’. Should I just buy paper and make her some?” He showed the two boxes to Mary.

Mary was very surprised now. Arthur had married? He has children? She cleared her throat.

“If memory serves you are a wonderful artist. I would suggest making the dolls. She would probably like the ‘critters’ you’ve drawn better than the pets. She is a Morgan.” Mary was baiting the man to see if he was married. “How many children do you have?” She asked

Taking the advice Arthur nodded and set the packages down before picking up the cardstock and colored pencils along with wax paper. “Thank ya, I have two. Oldest is almost seven she’s a handful my Dyani, then I have my little girl Awinita. She wants to be like’er sister so badly.”

“You married an in-“

“Mary Gills, don’t you start.” Arthur warned “you married someone too.” He pointed out. Taking out his pocket watch and checked the time. Taking a breath Arthur forced himself to relax.

“Good seein’ ya, wish ya all the best. I gotta get going.” Arthur went to pay, this also surprised Mary. She couldn’t help herself grabbing Arthur’s arm.

“Arthur, I still think of you fondly.” She had no idea why she blurted this out. “Would you..ever consider…”

Arthur pressed a finger to her lips. “Now Mary, we had our time. Did I love ya with everything I had? Yes. But..I got me someone who loves me…even when I was beaten and broken. I love’em too, makes me a better man. I got my girls, gotta baby comin’ and a life. A honest one too.” He moved his hand away now.

“Ya understand?”

Mary looked down unable to meet the man’s eyes. “Forgive me, I…suppose I just needed to…truly see if things were over.” She blinked as a thought hit her.

“Man?” She mumbled to herself as Arthur paid and practically ran out the door. A hand on his lower belly.

“Arthur Smith! ya damn fool. Got to think about Charles again and ran ya mouth.” Arthur grumbled to himself heading to the horse stables where his family was.

[urbane-figment]

[ID: a digital illustration of Yukong and Caiyi from Honkai: Star Rail, two women with fox ears. Yukong has long teal hair, while Caiyi has brown, shoulder length hair. They're both wearing aviator uniforms, Yukong in purple and Caiyi in turquoise. Caiyi is sitting in the Yukong's lap, cupping her hands around her neck. They both look tenderly at each other, as in the background paper lanterns float around them. /END ID]

My entry for the Honkai: Star Rail WLW Zine, Lilies of Eternity! It's totally free and you can get it here~!

[gripefroot]

Would love to see Ace in Alabasta...

Being a man meant hunger.

Being a pirate meant stealing. 

He’d been both long enough to source vulnerable stalls as second nature: which shopkeeper was distracted by other customers, which marketplace guards were lured on duty by pretty women, which wide-eyed child left to tend the family stalls while mother or father walked away to carry out other business. He avoided those on principle. No food, no matter how hollow his stomach, was worth leaving a child vulnerable to a temper. 

Whistling, Ace made his way down the dusty street with his pack on his back and his head held high. Another strategy: everyone suspects the lurker in the shadows. No one suspects the smiling, good-natured fellow stopping for a chat. One that admires the produce but puts it back, and when you turn away another item has slipped into his pocket. 

The stalls offered only thin victuals. A difference in only a few weeks. When he’d first made it to Alabasta, food had been accessible, if not bountiful. Now mushy apples were confettied with flies and bread made a thump on the dusty sand when fumbled.

He paused. A child sat on a stool in the shade, gnawing on an orange rind. Darkened by the shade cast by a striped awning that had seen better days; holes casting bright sunlight on the pouches of spices arranged on a table. The spices had been spread out, likely to seem like there was enough to cover the entire table, but it made the empty spaces seem larger. 

The child stared at him, orange lowering from his mouth. Pulp stuck to his lips. Ace grinned, tipped his hat, and went on. 

Well, maybe if he waited until tomorrow…

Another hungry night was survivable. He’d eaten a stack of meat-filled bread the day before and left without paying. And been promptly run out of town, rather enjoying the exercising but he would have enjoyed it with fewer scimitars brandished at his back. 

The sun was hot. Too hot. His shoulders itched. Absently he scratched at them, making the burned flesh sting. Instead of food, shade. Fortune smiled on him: ahead, away from the market posh houses bore towering walls of turquoise and amber, rising from the sand. Ace whistled his way past the first few, nodding at the guards who eyed him as they eyed all strangers. At the end of the road, when the expanse of blue sky and yellow sand met on the horizon, he turned abruptly. 

Last house out of town was never the richest. Almost never guarded. With a heave he jumped up to grab the top of the stone, burning hot in the sun. He scrambled up, boots scraping off dusty plaster from the stone. On the ledge he stopped in crouch, casting his eyes over a withering garden and a crooked house with crooked shutters. 

Perfect. Ace dropped over. 

May as well have a funeral for these trees. No leaves meant no shade. He wasn’t desperate enough to cower beneath broken branches. His boots thumped on a worn stone path, which took him around a dried up fountain and empty garden beds. Ace frowned. Well, he hadn’t expected much. Absently he scratched his shoulder again, this time flaking away dead skin. 

No noise had come from the house, which meant he was safe. For now. Something itched his ears: he scratched those, too, but the itching remained. Not a feeling, a sound. He tilted his head before realizing it was a hive of bees, and it wasn’t far. 

Bees. Bees meant honey. 

So he’d get a snack after all. 

Humming now, for himself and no one else, Ace found the hives within seconds. Next to the bones of a pagoda, curtains moth-eaten and faded; two once white-washed crates with bees crawling over the top and sides. 

He grinned, lifting the first lid off. White waxy honeycomb oozed golden honey, the sweet fragrance all the more pungent in the heat of the afternoon. Ace swiped his pinky through the honey, bringing it to his mouth to suck it off. 

“Jackpot,” he muttered. 

His treasure was a foot-long frame positively dripping with the unctuous gold. He settled down with his back at the junction where the western wall met the walls of the house before sucking the honeycomb dry, swallow by swallow, leaving nothing sticky as bees flew lazily around his head as if offended by his pilfering but too hot to do anything about it. 

“Thank you for the fine meal,” he said, to the bees at large, when the frame was clean. His hands needed cleaned, but with no water…the honey had made his throat burn from sweetness. Ace upturned his canteen over his mouth, letting the tepid water make a futile stand against the burning. Better than nothing. 

The water disappeared from the sand and stone of the garden floor almost as soon as it fell. Soon no trace of his washing remained, sucked dry from his skin by the merciless heat. He capped the canteen, swinging it back to hang at his waist. 

Swiiiish. 

Swiiiish. 

He cocked his head. From the desert? The street?

Swiiiiiiiiish. 

No. Closer. The house. So it wasn’t abandoned, after all. 

Abandoned by the rain that had abandoned the country. Abandoned by any sign of gardeners. But not abandoned by…

Dust puffed in the air from the second floor terrace of the house, shimmering against the azure expanse before drifting down to settle on a bare tree. Swiiiish. Another puff. Swiiiish. Another puff. 

With the final cloud of dust he saw a pale-blue, tattered sleeve holding a broom. 

The sweeping came closer. Closer still. The figure, barely visible between peeling columns, didn’t look particularly tall, even from below. Maybe a servant, but he doubted it. If he had to guess, based on the Alabasta he’d encountered over the last few weeks, it would be a hungry child from a once-great family, the fading-away of old blood to the sand. 

The dust made it to his nostrils, making them tickle. Once more and it settled on his arms. Ace drew in a ragged breath, and gave a shriek. 

The responding scream put his to shame. By the time it tapered off he was already howling with laughter, hat tipped up to show his victim that he meant no harm, that it was only a joke. 

Something hard whacked his head. Ace yelped again, but for real, shielding himself from the battered attack as the broom smacked into him again and again. Sand and dust were everywhere, tickling his face and skin and sticking where he hadn’t cleaned the honey entirely. 

“Ouch!” 

“Serves you right! You menace!”

He grabbed at the broom, bristles cutting into the flesh of his palms. Good humor threatened, he glared up at his attacker, but only saw a pale, pinched face between the terracotta balusters. Not three feet above his head, but he could see when the eyes of his attacker widened. And the precise shade of them. 

The broom gave a yank. Ace held on. 

“I only want to know who to thank for my delicious meal,” he said. 

“What—” The face pushed out further between the balusters. Not a child, as he’d half-expected, but a woman, the same pale-blue fabric over her head but not quite containing all of her hair. “You ate my honey!” 

“So I have you to thank?” Ace grinned. 

Her brows drew together, another futile yank on the broom. “Thank the bees.” 

“I already did. And now I thank you.”

“If you really want to thank me—” She puffed, seizing her end of the broom with both hands for an enormous yank. It did nothing. Ace’s smile broadened. “—give me bread or butter or water or something.”

“I can do that,” Ace said. 

She stopped pulling on the broom. Mesmerized by the shifting emotion on her face (irritation to surprise) he didn’t notice the silence falling between them like a shroud. She stared at him. He looked back. 

“Do you live here alone?” he asked. 

She shook her head, fingernails picking at the fraying handle of the broom. “I live here with my grandma. My parents died, but I—” Another shift. Stunned, horrified: the woman stood abruptly, dropping the broom to clatter on the stones of the garden. “Who are you! Get out!” 

At least she didn’t have the broom to start hitting him again. Ace stood, stretching his arms overhead with a yawn. He scratched his belly, ridding it of dust. The shadow of the garden wall stretched its fingers, heralding the lengthening day. The market would be open a while yet. He might be luckier on a second pass. 

Ace bent over to scoop up the broom. He proffered it to the woman, half-hidden behind a column and regarding him with wary eyes. “Here,” he said. 

Like the shadows, the moment stretched. He smiled, taking a step closer. The broom brushed against her skirt on the tile floor. She sucked in a breath, bent at the knees to pull the broom out of his hand, and within two blinks she was gone. Not even a flash of blue fabric remained. 

Ace watched the darkened terrace a while longer, anyway. Still smiling. 

He whistled as he jumped over the garden wall, craning his neck at the shuttered windows on the face of the house. Not a single one moved, not even when he whistled low like the call of a bird. Too bad. 

When the sky was struck with an indigo brush, cooling the relentless desert like an unfurled petal, Ace left a stack of steaming bread on the front step of the house. He pounded a fist on the door, stepping back. Already behind him he could hear shouts; it hadn’t been his best thievery, all in all. But if the woman didn’t take the bread now…and it was found on her doorstep…

A shutter above his head clattered. 

Ace cupped his hands around his mouth. “Come and get it!” he hissed. “Quick! Before they find it!” 

He’d have to leave town. A disappointment, really, but risks were risks. They rarely paid back in fair hands. Behind the door he heard an iron bolt pulled aside, the squeak of long-neglected hinges. He took another step back, hands open and free to show no danger. 

“Go!” The woman appeared, blue fabric clenched in her hands to cover her hair. But it didn’t cover her face, or her smile. “They’ll cut off your hand if they catch you.”

Sharp little thing, wasn’t she? Ace laughed, a firework in the night. The bread was bundled up in the woman’s skirt before she pushed the door closed again, the slip of her smile his last sight of her. 

Risks were risks. 

And a smile was worth being run out of town.

[goddess-aelin]

Accidents Happen

For Rowaelin Month Day 2

@rowaelinscourt

Masterlist

Word count: 1.7k

Warnings: having a bad day

Rowan Whitethorn planned to start his day like he always did, a cup of coffee in hand and no ambition to be more social. And then his coffee machine had to take a crap and his need for caffeine outweighed his social aversion, especially if he was supposed to deal with his hellion of a boss. Working from home had its perks, he supposed, especially since it gave him time before his 9AM meeting to run down to the corner coffee shop and pick up a fresh cup of coffee. That didn’t mean that he particularly wanted to put pants on and trudge the block to the overstuffed cafe.

But he did it anyway. Ten minutes later, wearing the comfiest sweatpants he could find and bringing nothing but his wallet and his phone, Rowan was standing in the ridiculously long line winding throughout the tiny cafe. The smell of fresh grounds was inviting even if the amount of people was not. The cafe had a certain charm, though. The mismatched chairs and exposed brick walls featuring art from local artists made Rowan not mind the crowd as much.

When it was his turn, he gave his order, left a generous tip, and stood to the side to wait for his drink to be called. Luckily, the wait time was short and just for that simple fact, Rowan fished out a few more dollars and threw them in the tip jar. These poor college kids probably weren’t getting paid as well as they should have been considering the way they were working their asses off.

Wrapped up in the contentment of finally having the familiar warmth of a coffee in his hand, Rowan completely missed the blonde woman standing behind him. Naturally, when he turned, he walked right into her. And so, apparently, did his coffee. All Rowan could do was watch with widened eyes and an apology on his lips as the stain gradually spread down the front of the woman’s white shirt. Rowan slowly brought his gaze up to meet hers, her turquoise eyes enrapturing him from the first glimpse. Well, fuck. Not only did he spill his coffee on a poor, innocent bystander, but she just happened to be one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen, too.

Even Rowan’s distraction couldn’t hide the simmering anger the woman was barely containing.

“I am so–”

The woman cut him off by holding a single hand up, palm toward him. The woman repeated the gesture again, giving a slight pushing motion to her hand to make him back away slightly. She left without another word. And Rowan, well, Rowan was confused as hell.

A very sweet employee took the now empty coffee cup from his hand, throwing it in the trash and already beginning to mop up the mess he made. Rowan felt helpless though he mostly felt terrible for the victim. Hopefully none of the coffee got on the woman’s skin given how scalding the liquid had been.

A quick glance to the line told Rowan that, no, he would not have time to reorder another cup. His meeting was in less than 15 minutes and he had to get back to his apartment. Rowan pushed through the crowd that amassed toward the door, avoiding the spill he caused, and left through the exit. He started making his way back to his apartment. Correction. He would have started making his way to his apartment had a sobbing sound not hit his ears.

Sure enough, the woman from the cafe was huddled on the edge of the sidewalk about 10 feet away from the coffee shop, her bag laying haphazardly next to her and her heels kicked off. If Rowan was a normal person, he would have walked right by her and got to his meeting on time. But Rowan was, well, Rowan, and his guilty conscience would not allow that.

He shot off a quick text to his boss, telling her he would be a few minutes late because of an emergency and stepped up to the still-sobbing woman. What was the best way to approach her? A ‘hey are you okay?’ seemed to be obviously wrong and tapping her on the shoulder was a big no considering he already felt like he violated her space enough today.

In the end, he settled for a simple, “Excuse me.”

The woman turned her head, her now red-rimmed eyes glancing up to him. Once she realized who he was, she let out a huff of breath and he could have sworn she rolled her eyes before putting her face back into her hands.

“If you don’t want to talk to me, that’s fine. I just wanted to say that I’m sorry and I didn’t mean for that to happen in there.” Though she didn’t answer him right away, her breathing at least slowed and her hands dropped away from her face. He took that as a good sign. Once again, he thought that normal people probably would’ve given up and walked away. But he caused this. And he would not be the reason someone was crying on the sidewalk, at least not without trying to fix it.

Maybe he was overstepping and maybe he’d regret it later, but he decided to take a seat next to her a few feet away.

“I…the coffee didn’t burn you, did it?”

The woman gave him a wary glance but after a few seconds, shook her head ‘no.’

“Is there anything I can do to help you? I can run and get you a new coffee or napkins or...if you need–”

“I’m fine.” Her voice was hoarse from crying. She cleared it a few times before attempting to speak again. “It’s just been a bad day. Bad week.” She let out a humorless laugh.

The wheels in Rowan’s brain started turning. “Wait here.” He held his hands up in supplication while getting up from the curb. “Just…wait here. Please.” He gave a half smile before running back inside. To his delight, the line had gone down considerably and he only waited a few minutes to reorder. The barista remembered his order from a few minutes before and also, luckily, remembered the woman’s order, as well. He threw in a few pastries for good measure and was on his way back out the door in no time.

To his relief, the woman was still outside, though she moved to the bench a few feet down the sidewalk. Her eyebrows raised slightly as she noticed him coming back with more than a few treats.

“This is for you,” Rowan said as he passed her the large coffee cup that smelled like it had way too much sugar in it. Once she took it, he opened the bag of pastries, their sweet aroma wafting toward the woman, whose eyebrows only went higher.

“I know you still have the stain on your shirt but I hope this at least helps make your day a little less…terrible. I really am sorry.” After a few moments of the woman still not saying anything, he started to get up and make his way back home.

“Wait!”

Rowan turned slowly, his eyes meeting hers.

“Why?” The question was barely a whisper. “Why would you do this for me?”

Rowan’s brows furrowed. “Because I was the cause of this. I spilled my entire coffee cup on you. The least I owe you is a new cup and maybe some money for dry cleaning.” She huffed a laugh at that.

“You don’t owe me anything. It was an accident, one that was just the icing on the cake of a very long, very stressful week.” She shrugged. “Accidents happen.”

Rowan slowly sat back down on the bench. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Once again, the woman’s brows furrowed and confusion crossed her face.

“You want to listen to me talk about my problems?”

“I mean, obviously you don’t have to. It just seems like you might need a listening ear.” He shrugged.

“ O…kay. Well it started when I found my boyfriend in bed with my boss.”

Rowan almost spit out his coffee. His eyes slowly gazed toward her and he noticed the small smile playing on her lips. “What a way to start a story. Seriously?!”

The smile that crossed her face did…funny things to his insides to say the least. “Technically that happened a few months ago but I did run into him on Monday, which started all these terrible events. Then my cousin, who was visiting for a while, left to go back to Caraverre, my new boss is turning out to be a total creep, I got gum stuck in my hair from someone on the train and had to have an impromptu haircut, and well…here we are.”

“Gods. I’m so fucking sorry.” Rowan couldn’t help the guilt that washed over him.

“Don’t be. It really wasn’t your fault.” She started to get up, Rowan following suit. “Well, I guess that I should get going considering I have to stop at home before going into work.” Rowan gave her a sheepish look. “Thanks for the coffee and muffins…and for listening. You know, I don’t think I ever got your name.”

“Rowan.” He stuck his hand out for her to shake.

“Aelin.”

“Aelin,” he repeated. He liked the way her name easily rolled off of his tongue.

“Well, Rowan, this may be presumptuous of me but would you maybe…want to meet up sometime? You know, if me word vomiting my baggage didn’t scare you off.” A slow smile crossed Rowan’s face.

“You didn’t scare me off. If anything, it should be you who’s scared off, what with spilling my coffee all over you. “ He gave her a sideways smile. “But yes, I absolutely would love to meet up again.” She gave him another one of those room-lighting smiles.

After exchanging numbers and going their separate ways, Rowan couldn’t help but walk toward his apartment with a little pep in his step. He was definitely about to get an earful from his boss about being late but it occurred to him that he didn’t really care. Not when the reason he was late was so worth it.

A/N: My writing is a little bit rusty but I hope this was fluffy enough that it makes up for it! I have a few other fics planned and I’m hoping that this productive streak continues

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