#ceramic water fountain

[it-grrl]

Beginning to suspect my elderly teenaged daughter (read: my cat)'s recent bathroom issues are arthritis/mobility related so we're trying out some joint supplements and a new litter box (switched from top entry to low front entry) for the first time in over a decade pray for us.

[lotro-tooltips-daily]

[americania]

Mediterranean Landscape - Concrete Pavers Here is an illustration of a large, full-sun backyard landscape with a concrete paver water feature in the Mediterranean.

[millionponds]

Photo of a mid-sized partial sun backyard mulch water fountain landscape.

[icanseethefuture333]

PAC: “My body is my temple” what your body wishes to tell you ⏳⛲️🔱

“Fountain baby, wash her, make it wet”

“Diamonds hit the sweat”

“Tattoo on her chest, yeah, yeah, yeah”

“I like when my remedies connect”

“That pussy and a bed, like angels in Tibet”

Trigger warning: this reading heavily focuses on body image and may contain content that is triggering or sexually suggestive, viewer discretion is advised.

Pile I:

Shufflemancy -

Movement by Hozier

Dash by Nmixx

Lalala by Naughty Boy ft Sam Smith

Connect with fire, Aromatherapy, Use Your hands, Two of Wands, Nine of Cups, & Four of Swords

"Dear, pile 1,

I hope you are doing well. I wish for you to be free with your body, for you have been blessed with the gift of movement. You are fortunate to have limbs that can twist and turn. Wiggle your hips, try to touch your nose with your tongue, be silly and stop being such a stiff all the time. I know you were told to "sit down" and "be still" as a child but it is time to express yourself in a way you were not allowed to before. Your inner child needs you, I keep them safe, stored inside your belly and in the memories of your brain. I want to tell that you are enough and I love your creativity! I want to be there with you, every step of the way. I, your body, am tense, I wish to embrace the warmth. Visit a spa and receive an aromatherapy treatment or lay on the warm sand. Why do you keep lying in bed? Your life is passing you by. You were blessed with a physical vessel that is capable of movement. I put an emphasis on this because I know you have been feeling fatigued and a lack of motivation. I know about those thoughts you have when you look at me, your body. You have features that you are confident about but I know that when you look at me, you find me simple, in comparison to a figure that might be more dynamic than I. I don't feel offended when you think these thoughts but I do hope that one day you can value me, your body. I know about the smoking or the desire you have to do it, I have no problem with it, but don't let it desensitize you from your senses. Getting high provides an outlet but it should not be used as a substance to escape from your problems (channeled song: High Alone by Sevdaliza). A coping method I would like for you to try is writing your feelings on paper and burning it. You are talented with your hands as well, please look into creating art or careers that involves craftsmanship. Take a pottery / ceramics class if you are wanting a new hobby.

Pile II:

Shufflemancy -

Indigo by Niki

Low by SZA

Alter Ego by Doechii ft. JT

Connect with Your Womb, Hydrate, Flow Like Water, Ace of Wands, Ten of Swords, & Seven of Wands

"Hello pile 2,

I am so proud of how far you have come! You are such a strong individual, I know the emotions that you store deep down. The side of you that the world does not see. You shine bright like the moon but I, your body, get to see your dark side. I know that you have goals and aspirations, you want to prove everybody who told you could never do it that they're wrong. There was a lack of representation for your body type and I know that when you were a teenager, this made you feel very self conscious. The rolls, the stretch marks, and cellulite that developed on your canvas was bound to happen, for that is the transition into adulthood. I know that you get upset sometimes at the level of weight, height, and density that I carry, but instead of letting these insecurities stop you, you have truly made a path for yourself and for others with similar a body type. You are growing and learning that the way to happiness is acceptance. Although, you hide behind a persona that is masked with confidence, people commend you for your ability to communicate boundaries, and how you comfortably express yourself through your style, but underneath this veil of deception, you are someone who desires love. You know that you are a successful and powerful being with immense sexual energy but there is a lack of vulnerability. In order to release these burdens and be more in touch with your emotions, connect with your menstrual cycle. Listen to what I, your body, am telling you to do during this time. Drink plenty of fluids and uptake your vitamins by eating fruits or making smoothies/juices. I know that you are dominant by nature but allow others to guide you in life and to provide you the help you need. If you are seeking a goal, the universe will place them into your life to assist you. "Be like water, my friend" - Go with the flow and see where the waves will take you. You should also take the time to go swimming or relax by a body of water (pool, lake, river, etc). Go buy that bikini or swimsuit you've been wanting to wear, you will look so amazing in it."

Pile III:

Shufflemancy -

On My Mama by Victoria Monét

I'm That Girl by Beyoncé

Bossy by Kelis ft. Too $hort

Connect with Your Ancestors, Ground Yourself, Build Strength, Temperance, Six of Wands, & The Emperor

"Pile 3,

If you expected me to be sweet like the other piles you are surely mistaken! I am here to give you the cold hard truth, I don't sugarcoat nothing. I, your body, am a descendant of your ancestors. Your shape was passed down from the maternal figures in your family. I don't care what other bodies look like, I know, that me, your body, is tea! I don't need to be hourglass, pear, or any other man made name of a body shape to be considered "sexy". These are illusions that the industry creates to make people feel insecure about themselves to get work done or buy products. You do not need any of that, you are gorgeous!!! I need you to wake the hell up and realize that. Those random body aches and cramps you get is because I am trying to get your attention when your ass ignores me. You will not look like those people you have been comparing yourself to, look at the beauty that your family possesses, that you possess. You need to ground yourself whenever you feel self conscious because of your reality. Those videos and images you see on social media are not real, it is a fake virtual world. You and I, are real, we need to reconnect, my love. Mediate more, do yoga, anything to bring your mind back to focus on you. You also need to be patient, if you wish to obtain a physical goal, you need to build endurance and strength. Quick fixes does not last and will only make the situation worst, invest your time in the gym. Bring your attention on balancing your masculine and feminine energy. You can highlight my qualities by sculpting me, your body. I am a piece of art. You need to learn to appreciate me as I have adored you, even when you reject me."

Pile IV:

Shufflemancy -

Summer 2020 by Jhené Aiko

Evergreen (You Didn't Deserve Me At All) by Omar Apollo

You Know Wassup by Kehlani

Connect with the Earth, Be Still, Beauty Ritual, Two of Pentacles (reversed), The Empress, & Knight of Cups

"Oh, pile 4,

You have been dealing with a lot. I know you are still recovering from that relationship, I feel it in our heart. Your world was turned upside down after being with them. Detachment is necessary at this time in order to heal, they never deserved you, and I am glad they no longer have access to me, your body - for we are too beautiful to settle for less. I hope you can see how serene life can be when you are single. The most precious time we have left on this planet is with ourselves, the memories we can make just by being on our own, and discovering the complex layers of our psyche. Allow yourself to be still in this moment in your life and reflect on how you are currently feeling. Do not focus on the past or the future but instead your present, for it is a gift. Spend time in nature or connect with animals, your nervous system will greatly appreciate it. You need comfort and relaxation at this time. Perhaps visit your favorite place or take a walk through the park, whichever you feel most comfortable with. It has been a while since you done something for me. I know you have not been feeling your best but it would be nice if we could a beauty ritual together. How about a nice warm bath with lots of bubbles and suds <3? You could paint your nails, do your skincare routine, massage your scalp, whatever makes you feel the most happy and beautiful. A little ASMR session could be fun as well. I, your body, wish to be your best friend. I look up to you so much, even though I have matured, I still feel like that little child playing in the sandbox or playing on the playground. Do you remember those times? Sorry, I sound nostalgic, hehe. Its just good to finally speak to you, I love you so much yet you never got to know till now, just like how Joy adores Riley from Inside Out. I want you to be happy in life. I know that things have been rough for you but I hope just like those moments where you cried as a child when you scrapped your knee, that this could be a healing process we can overcome, together. Take care, my lovely, pile 4. Love - Your body."

Pile V:

Shufflemancy -

Unfold by Alina Baraz

Step On Up by Ariana Grande

Tia Tamera by Doja Cat ft. Rico Nasty

Chanting, Pleasure, Create Art, Three of Pentacles, The World, & Two of Cups

"Heyyy, pile 5!

I'm not a regular body, I'm a cool body! I want to help you embody this mindset of being unstoppable and powerful. You have so much potential that needs to be put into motion. I want you to work on your stamina and start shifting into gear towards your goals. I hope you are feeling pumped - I know I am! I want you to walk into the room as if you own the place. You need to work on your confidence, straighten your posture, and keep your chin up high. Practicing affirmations or chanting lyrics from uplifting music could you get in you in good spirits. I want you to feel like the diva that you are meant to be. Also honey, I am still cute and perky, SHOW ME OFF! I love when people look at me, your body. I want attention and compliments just as much as you do. You are like a work of art, stop shying behind others and covering me up. Not to be brash but when is the last time you pleasured yourself?! Its been ages since I had a good orgasm. You need to learn to put yourself on the pedestal and stop only focusing on what make others feel good, when have you ever put yourself first? Exactly. I want you to march into that bedroom and focus on making yourself feel sexy. Adore me, wear lingerie, do something to get me excited! Its been a dry spell, so please make sure I am wet first and be gentle. I would like for you to to make me squirt for the first time (be gentle but not that gentle <3). My bad, is that too forward? I just want somebody to match my freak and you could totally do it. I am flirting with you? yes! That's how I want you to feel about me, your body. You should learn to paint, maybe even paint yourself nude, who's gonna judge? Nobody is there to see, unless you want them to see. Wouldn't it be fun if we went to a art class and allowed those peasants to paint us like the god/goddess we are? Not to brag but I know I'm good looking, teehee! In all seriousness, I want you to know that the opportunities in life are endless and you have so much potential sometimes that I don't think you realize it. I am so eager to explore my senses. I want you to travel different countries, eat some yummy food, create art, have a romantic fling, and make love everywhere in the house (if that's your thing I mean... no pressure). Anyways, what I am trying to say is be more adventurous, you don't always have to be responsible, isn't that what being young is for? How can you learn from your mistakes and gain wisdom if you are always wanting to be traditional and focused."

Pile VI:

Shufflemancy -

Focus by H.E.R

Cozy Girl by Baby Tate

Chill Pad Deluxe by Majid Jordan

Write a Gratitude List, Read, Make a Meal, Five of Pentacles, Seven of Pentacles, & Page of Cups

"I'm sleepy, pile 6,

I need a really good nap. Could we just stay in? I love being comfortable and relaxed in bed. To be truthful with you, and you might already know this, I am an introverted body. I do not like being in crowds or around other people for too long because it really zaps my energy :<! I prefer being at home, tending to the planets, and being in a zen environment. Could you make me a cup of tea? I would really like something warm and comforting to drink. I hope we can be in a environment one day that is something we always dreamed of - peaceful and zen, a sanctuary for us and our loved ones. I sound old fashioned, don't I now? I guess you could consider me an old soul, I am sorry if I hold you back at times from getting to know new people or make friends, I am still recovering from our past struggles. I also feel like I disappoint you at times. Could you please write about what you're grateful for when it comes to me, your body? I need to hear words of affirmation, for I feel I've been beat down enough by the world, I don't want you to hate me too, it makes me sad. I forgive you for all the times you ever been upset with me and whoever has hurt us. I think we should start over and get to know each other again. I want to help you with your health, I know you have gut issues. We need to eat out less and learn how to cook home cooked meals. It would be nice if we made a recipe book! I love your cooking, even if it sometimes taste a little funny. I feel childish, do you see me, your body, as childlike? I revert to this state to protect myself, I am so sorry, I'm very sensitive. If I could, I would feel like crying but that's a good thing, I could finally release everything I have been pushing down. Let's cozy up under a fluffy blanket, lay on our pretty head on big pillow, and read a book. Could you read me a bedtime story? Oh I would really like that. Maybe even buy me a teddy bear? I like to cuddle, it helps me fall asleep. I also like when you wear silky pajamas or t shirts with sweatpants, its the best combo. You are naturally so pretty. If I could hug you I would, do you mind hugging me? If I had a voice, it would be soft like Winnie the Pooh. I like tummy rubs. I am grateful for you taking such good care of me, I will do my best to support you. Thank you for all you have done and will do for me."

Pile VII:

Shufflemancy -

The Truman Show by Sylvan Lacue ft Xavier Omar

Insane by Summer Walker

Healthy by PRETTYMUCH

Spend Time with Friends, Make an Altar, Deep Breathing. King of Swords, Nine of Swords, & Page of Pentacles

"Breathe, pile 7!

Sheesh! Are you okay??? What's the rush, dude? You need to chill, I know you would like to accomplish your goals but you're making me, your body, sick! Forget about FOMO and catching up with others, slow and steady can still win the race. You have to be smart with how you use your energy. Instead of trying to tackle everything all at once, how about making a schedule and breaking it up into smaller tasks? It would help with all the stress you're experiencing. You are creating unnecessary tension in your life, stop comparing yourself to others, or feeling like you need to buy something because of a trend, you are missing out on special moments because you are in such a hurry to- well, grow up! You need to take some time to relax and interact with friends, I could use a really good belly laugh. Have a movie night with your besties and put the weight of the world away. I don't ask for much but all I ask is that you please take care of your anxiety before it becomes a concern. Making an altar with your favorite pictures and trinkets to calm you down could help provide you a safe space, you could even decorate it with flowers, candles, or string lights, whatever makes you happy! When you sit down at your altar, practice taking deep breaths, and empty your mind. This will provide clarity and help you calm down. If you need guidance or wisdom in life, please come to me, your body, before going to others. I can help you make the right decisions, pay attention to your intuition, and the signals I give you, for it might even save your life one day."

Pile VIII:

Shufflemancy -

Jealousy, Jealousy by Olivia Rodrigo

Splinter by FIG

Prom Queen by Beach Bunny

Sweet Treat, Sound Healing, Alone Time, The Tower, Eight of Pentacles, & The High Priestess (reversed)

"What's up, doll? I-I mean Pile 8!

I don't mean to pester ya. I bet you didn't expect me to sound like a new jersey housewife, eh? Or is it Harley Quinn??? Bugs Bunny?! Eh, whateva. Listen pudding. You are sweet as a cupcake, ooo wee! What a delight you are! You and me, doll, we make quite the pair, you know- given that I'm your body and all. Listen babe, you mind if I call you babe, sugar? I know you've been a bit down in the dumps for being "fun sized". Whether ya petite or a slim jim, what's it to ya?! Who cares if others got a bit more pushin' to the cushion? You're absolutely friggin' adorable! Keep it cute and perky. You're like Sandy Dee from Grease before she got the makeover and what not. The spice you need is that confidence Sandy got when she mustered up the courage to change up her look and join The Pink Ladies. You gotta show these fools you're not just somebody they could push around! Hun, to be frank with you, I'm really tense, I get all tough in the muscles because you're always being picked on and it makes me protective of you. It's hard for me, ya body, to let my guard down. . Bake me some goodies will ya? Whenever you're having a tough day, reward yourself with some treats. I want you to stop caring about how much you eat or where it's gonna go, you're perfect the way you are. Also why don't you listen to some music to unwind? Jam in your room, get a instrument, sing, listen to frequencies, do whatever brings you peace toots. As much as I am good at interacting with the peoples, I think it's time for us to get some alone time. We gotta start from the ground up because I know you're struggling with your confidence because of what happened to ya. Ya know- that traumatic event we don't really like to talk about? Yeah you know what I mean. I wish I could beat up those stupid bullies who made you cry. I know that from a young age, you always compared yourself to the popular kids and those celebrities from the magazines but doll, peaking early doesn't mean its gonna last forever. Being a late bloomer has its advantages, you have the brains and the beauty to match with it. I want you to know that you got something really special, kiddo! And I'm not saying it just because I'm your body. I want you to focus on building a career and getting a good education. Trust me when I say this, as you get older, I'm gonna spread out in all the right places, you won't even know when it will hit ya! I'll make it move like water, if you know what I mean, baby!!!"

Pile IX:

Shufflemancy -

In A Good Way by Faye Webster

Put Your Records On by Corinne Bailey Rae

How Sweet by NewJeans

Journal, Look to the Stars, Family, Wheel of Fortune, Ace of Pentacles, & The Fool

"Greetings, pile 9,

You have arrived to your destination! I find you to be so ethereal and beautiful. I hope you don't try to diminish your beauty by wanting to fit in, you look your best when you stand out. I like when you wear flowy clothing, it makes you sparkle like a celestial being from outer space. You should dressing according to the signs in your birth chart, it could help you attract abundance. Are you wishing to manifest your dream body? It is possible, for I, your body, are transformative. We constantly growing and changing in life. You should journal your thoughts and ideas, watch your goals come into reality. I want you to really shoot for the stars! Invest your money in taking care of your health. There are health issues that are genetic and run in your family, instead of fighting it, focus on taking care of yourself. Buying the right foods, supplements, and vitamins could be crucial at this time. I believe giving gifts and being generous to family members would help promote good spirits. If you are wanting to try something new lately, perhaps traveling, or going on vacation, now would be a good time to do so. I would like for us to go for a run, jog, or a walk! Let's visit places we never been to before, something magical is waiting to happen. I, your body, would also like a little buddy. Could we get a pet? So that they can accompany us in our jogs through the neighborhood, that would be fun!"

[forgetme-eternally-blissfully]

“So, babysitting?”

Alberu follows after the delinquent. From the record the vice-principal gave him access to, Cale frequently drinks alcohol, he often gets himself into a lot of fights, and he barely passed his classes at the end of the grading period. The teachers never call on him in class, girls and boys avoid him alike, and he is- supposedly- completely intolerable.

Which is why Alberu Crossman, who’s only a little older yet infinitely more mature has been assigned by the principal (his father) to get the troublemaker under thumb. Cale's father is quite wealthy, actually, and since there isn't much known about the successor to the Henituse family... it'd be bad if he had to be expelled.

Cale scowled. “Yes, babysitting, your highness. Please, leave if you must,” He jeers at Alberu, but internally he thinks, 'No, really. Please leave.' Otherwise, he might get caught in the act.

Of not actually being Cale.

Roksu aims a sour expression at Alberu, who returns it with a more flowery one. Acting as his twin for the day had been easy enough, mainly because being trash is great!- until Alberu Crossman strolled into his lunch period and introduced himself.

He is even following him out of the school to his job. Well, this job is Roksu’s and not Cale’s, but because he can’t ditch work nor can he get glib-tongued Alberu off his tail-

Well shit.

Thankfully, the kids call him hyung. Except Raon, who calls him human. Hopefully Alberu doesn’t look into it too much. If everything goes right, Alberu Crossman will be Cale's problem to deal with tomorrow. As it should have been.

“I didn’t know you liked kids, Cale,” Alberu smiles charmingly, walking side by side with Roksu. “Can you introduce me?” Roksu struggles to not put on his own disarming smile out of spite, instead plastering on a classic Cale Sneer™. It fits on his face perfectly, like he’s playing a character in a play.

They enter the building and ‘Cale’ guides Alberu to a colorful playroom, decked out in toys and a fountain of running water as the centerpiece (A gift from his father, who is still upset that Roksu doesn't visit more often). There’s a tray of fruits and oatmeal on the small table in the corner of the room, except not a soul to be seen. Picking up a bowl of oatmeal and finding the ceramic to still be hot, Roksu almost smiles.

Alberu frowns. Where are the kids he's supposed to babysit?

Roksu tells the empty air, "Come on out."

Three children appear out of nowhere in front of them.

“Hyung!”

“Human! You’re back!”

“Hyung, nya.” On examines Alberu some more.

All of the kids had been revealed the moment that Roksu spoke, as Raon unveiled the invisibility on them.

Raon runs up and grabs Roksu’s hand, who places it on his head, rubbing the black hair comfortingly. “Mm.” Raon beams at the affection.

“Raon, On, Hong,” they each look up at him at the call of their names. “This is Alberu Crossman, he is doing a report on my trashy behavior. Don’t be rude."

All three children become hostile immediately. “He isn't trash!”

On observes Alberu with an intense glare. Raon shifts under Roksu’s hand, his deep blue eyes glinting with magic. Roksu positions him away from the older teen’s view. Raon grips onto Roksu’s pant leg with a vengeance. Hong stares openly, offensive.

Alberu smiles at them.

"I'm visiting with Cale Hyung for today, nice to meet you."

Hong gasps suddenly.

“He-!” On gives her brother a look, and he clamps his hands over his mouth. Alberu feels a deep curiosity, as if something isn’t quite as it seems.

Roksu sighs. It’s going to be a long hour.

At the midway point, Alberu has easily disarmed the children. They look fascinated at the magic he shows them, while Roksu can only rub a palm over Raon’s shoulder as a warning to keep his dragon magic under control. He's still just a child that wants to brag. Everything is going well.

Bang!

“Hey Roksu! How was-“ Cale bursts through the door, bright red hair equipped with a shit-eating grin, wearing clothes far less fancy than his usual. He tenses up, frozen in place when he spots Alberu on the floor, politely sitting "crisscross applesauce" with the children. Roksu narrows a withering glare at his twin.

“… Roksu?”

Alberu looks at ‘Cale,’ sitting next to him, the one he's spent the entire day with, who is trying to send what must be the real Cale into the sun with his eyes.

“Ha… ha?” Cale winces. Roksu wipes his expression from his face.

“Cale-hyung, run! That’s the human’s bad look!” Alberu’s eyes widen as he watches the confirmed real Cale bolt back into the hallway and out of the front door. Alberu whips his head back toward the stranger behind him, who is a perfect replica of the Cale who ran like Hell. Cale has an identical twin?? Since when? Why doesn't he go to school?

Roksu levels an emotionless gaze at Alberu. “Hello, your highness. Don’t mind me.”

Alberu can only watch in astonishment as this stranger walks out of the playroom, with a smooth and deadly gait as he hunts down his twin like a predator would to prey. He recalls the look 'Roksu' gave him and it sends a shiver down the principal’s son’s spine. That gaze held secrets.

Something about this stranger is even more interesting than the sudden appearance of a twin.

On walks up to him, sitting down in his lap and looking into his eyes. “Roksu-hyung will be back soon, nya!” Hong bounds over and sits next to his sister, grinning widely. Raon huffs and looks at the door. He wants his human to come back.

[vidavalor]

Aziraphale

What's in a name?

Azir: Chosen one

Azira: "a rising star"; someone who will be successful

Pronounced as: "A zir, a phale"

Zir: Pronoun for a non-binary person

Phale: from the Middle English 'whal'/'hwal'/'wale'/'whale', used to denote any large, sea-dwelling mammal, such as walruses, porpoises, and whales.

Also: Phale: the sum of money or allotment of produce to be given to a landowner as rent

Phale: (spelled the same but pronounced "pah-lay") Tibetan word for bread.

Phale, frequently confused with Phiale:

Phiale: a shallow, ceramic or metal bowl, used for libations

Also: Phiale: a fountain in the entrance or front of a church, for blessing of water

Phale, from Phalera...

Phalera: A metal disc or medallion, usually worn on the breast as an ornament and as part of a military uniform

Also: Phalera: a genus of moth-- insects which are drawn towards light. Humans are ants; angels are bees; demons are hornets; flies are Lord Beezlebub's department...

Also: Phalera: a decoration for the harness of a horse, popular in ancient Rome

[m1male2]

The Antonina Fountain (160-180 AD) has been restored to its full splendor after centuries of pouring water like a waterfall.

This fantastic monument shows us the power and prestige of the Roman Empire and the wealth and importance that the city of Sagalassos (Turkey) came to have. Between the s. I and III enjoyed great prosperity due to trade and its ceramic production.

(Video ©️Arkeoloji Evreni)

[kingofthe-egirls]

SNAKEMAN: LUFFY x Y/N (stripper part 3!)

stripper au: part 1 part 2

(cw: sex, snakeman monster fuck, sad luffy but u help)

(a/n: uk how it is)

Songs: “Minimize” by B.P. Valenzuela

words: 1k

****

Luffy stalks towards you, as you circle the stripper pole in your sparkly heels. They’re the newest gift he’s spoiled you with: rhinestone heels with small platforms and black velvet straps. The crystalline shimmers reflect the studio lights as you twirl around the pole, letting your legs swing your weight slowly in circles. You’re wearing black exercise shorts and a lacy bralette.

Snakeman’s haki-armored pythons suddenly wind around your waist. He slows your spin, as you release your grip on the pole so he can reel you back into his strong chest.

He’s like, five feet taller than you.

You squeak, surprised at the sudden contact between your almost-bare back and his heated chest.

“Ssssuch a sweet pussy f’me, hah?” Luffy’s hissing, snakelike voice drops several octaves as he manhandles your shorts off.

His python hands find your pussy, cupping it with his palm. He rubs the heel of his against your clit, wasting no time before dipping his swollen, steel-like fingers inside your sopping pussy. He lets out a sinful groan.

“Shiiiiit, baby~,” He snickers from three feet above you. His muscles clench and contract behind your body as he maneuvers your thighs beneath both hands. Snakeman is an impatient, slithery version of your slutty captain.

His cock stretches you out perfectly.

“Ssssooo goooood~!” He hisses, his whines turning hoarse as he starts a slow and steady rhythm.

He’s fucking you like a monster: both large hands wrapped around your thighs as he spreads your legs as far as he can. He’s lifting you up and down on his cock, his head thrown back as he stutters and moans.

Eventually, he sits.

Snakeman Luffy is sitting crosslegged on the floor of the studio, still lifting you up and down his stretched-out cock. Like you’re his personal fucktoy. Like he’s never felt something so warm, so hot, so tight before. He’s hissing out phrases of pleasure, his compliments half-bitten off and chewed as he chokes through his own whining keens.

“Ssssuch a—such a good sex doll, huh sssweetie?” His tongue flickers against your ear, before wriggling its way inside. He teases your sensitive ears with his snakey tongue, and you find yourself cumming with reckless abandon.

He snickers as you writhe and moan.

You scrabble at his hair, your arm stretched up all the way as you try to reach his head. His Snakeman locks are silken: long and swaying as if there’s a breeze. He leans down a little so you can pet him easier.

“Snakeman doin’ a good job for ya?” He asks, whispered voice betraying the self consciousness he always so deftly conceals.

“So good~!”

He starts smooching the skin of your shoulder, as his Snakeman deflates.

He’s panting, ragged and worn after his exploits. He slumps against you, his limbs wrapped around your torso as he sniffles. His face is buried between your shoulder blades.

“S’not too—freakish?”

You gasp, swirling around to smother his face in your chest.

“Don’t ever say that!!!” You say in disbelief, scratching his hair as it slowly spikes back up to its usual shortness. His body is sleepy, deflated. His skin is paler than normal, as his breaths come raspy and hoarse. He stares up at you with big, pleading eyes.

“Snakeman’s sexy, right?”

He’s asking for reassurance, for sex-driven compliments and you can’t help but pour out your affections for him. The same way statues pour water from ceramic vases into fountains: endlessly.

“Snakeman is so sexy,” you encourage him, stroking his face. His eyes flutter shut, as his smile starts twitching up again. “Snakeman is sexy because he’s you.”

Luffy stares up at you with the pit of his stomach in hell. “No one’s—ever called me…sexy…before,” he confesses, his eyes shiny with tears. He scrubs at his face: at the side with no scar. “Stupid baby face,” he sniffs sharply, “M’short and scrawny, too…,” he whispers out his insecurities, staring at the floor.

You sit up, facing him.

“You are sexy. Inherently. Your voice, your scrawny, your stupid chubby cheeks. Your scar, your eyes. The way you move. You are sexy.”

You try to tell him, to get the message across, but something in his eyes says that he’s still seeing the weak, childish version of himself.

He sniffs.

“Makino said I’ve got owl eyes…,” he says miserably, scrubbing at his face. He stares down at the glossy studio floor with shadows over his expression. “Ace said m’so short no one would ever kiss me…and Uta—,” he hiccups, his eyes red and swollen as tears flow freely. He scowls.

“Uta said m’too ugly for her to stay steady with…she said she was just usin’ me fer kissin’ practice,” he speaks bitterly.

You grab both sides of his face, anger boiling inside you with heat you’ve never felt before.

“Who the fuck. Is Uta.”

Luffy stares at you, suddenly perked up at the sound of violence in your undertone. He sees you’ve gone so terribly still. Steel is flintlocked into your eyes. He shakes his head.

“Shanks’ kid…she was my crush, as kids…,” he wavers a little, still stung by her harsh critiques.

You grit your teeth.

“She. Was. So. Wrong.”

He stares, still not comprehending.

You sear him with a kiss that starts low at your gut. Center of your pelvic floor. Magma, molten lust.

“Sexy doesn’t begin to describe it. You’re so…so handsome. Your jawline, your bone structure…,” you grace your fingertips against his cheekbones. You trace the slight slope of his nose. “Your skin is so warm, and your lips are velvet. I—,” you shake your head, “Why d’ya think all those girls flock ta ya? Cuz you’re a wanted man? Cuz you’re strong?” You shake your head vehemently. You pour as much stripper-seduction into your words as you possibly can. “Nah, Snakeman. It’s cuz you’re so fucking sexy. Your hair is dark, your skin is warm brown, your muscles are defined, your voice is so—ugh!” You’re at a loss for words.

Luffy stares at you.

“Seriously?”

You swallow.

“Seriously.”

****

[useless-catalanfacts]

There are some toys that children always love. One of them is tiny versions of cooking utensils and dishes. Here's some of them found in Catalonia from different moments of history.

Left: A tiny vase and/or lid (3.2 cm long) made of thick ceramic. Local production, 4th century BC. Museu d'Història de Barcelona.

Right: Little cup (6 cm), made of thick ceramic. Local production, 4th-3rd century BC. Museu d'Història de Barcelona.

Two pitches and a toy pitch (12 cm tall) found at the bottom of a well. This well was built in the 15th century and was stopped using when the city hall built a water fountain in 1636. The pitches had to be lowered with a string, sometimes the string would snap or the pitch would hit the well's walls and break. For this reason, archaeologists found 145 broken pitches at the bottom of the well, and this toy. Little pitches used by children to carry water have been found before in Catalonia, but this one is so little and would be able to carry such an insignificant quantity that it could only be a toy. Museu de Banyoles.

Left: Tiny dish (1.5 cm), imitating the common brown ceramics with green glaze that were common at the time. Local production, 16th century AD. Museu d'Història de Barcelona.

Right: Tiny bowl (1.7 cm). Local production, 16th century AD. Museu d'Història de Barcelona.

Tiny jar (4 cm). Ligurian maiolica ceramic of the series "a tappezzeria" with "tre nuvolette" decoration. In the base, it has the Savona coat of arms used as a workshop seal. Even though this was made in Liguria (Northern Italy), this was found in Barcelona. At the time, there was a lot of commerce between these two places, particularly for ceramic chinaware, with many upper class families in Barcelona buying imported Ligurian dishes, plates, bowls... It seems like they also did it for their children. 16-17th century AD. Museu d'Història de Barcelona.

Tiny reproductions of common ceramics of the Early Modern period found in el Born archaeological site, 17th century-1717. El Born CCM.

Picnic basket (17 cm long), 1952. Museu d'Història de Barcelona.

Cooking tools toys: pot (10.5 cm), heater (3.5 cm) and whisk (12 cm). Second half of the 20th century. Museu d'Història de Barcelona: 1, 2, 3.

And thinking of our own childhoods, I'm sure we can all remember some more.

[honeii-puff]

All the mermaids have sharp teeth

In which Soren and Corvus talk Read it on ao3!

Seeing Soren brought a small sense of what he could only describe as relief. He was never one for fancy events and being surrounded by many people, but he was like a breath of fresh air in the midst of it all.

Callum had left them a few minutes later, weaving through the mass of people.

“Oh, actually, I got you something.” Corvus reached into his bag to find the small ceramic statue.

“You didn’t have to do that– I didn’t get you anything-” Soren started, his earfins flashing briefly. He wasn’t aware that mer fins were able to glow.

He’d write that down later.

“I wanted to. Plus, it reminded me of you.” He pulled out the small ceramic sheep statue, handing it to him.

Soren took the small statue and looked at it. “...I’m sorry, what is it?”

Corvus smiled. “It’s a sheep.”

He paused for a moment before laughing. “I’m sorry- I’ve never seen sheep before.” His smile, Corvus learned, was very cute. 

And very contagious. Corvus found himself smiling as well, analyzing the planes of Soren’s face.

He had a single light freckle on the side of his nose.

The right side of his mouth seemed to raise higher than the left when he smiled.

His thinner eyelid (membrane?) flicked up temporarily, one hand shielding above his eyes while he looked at the statue. “I didn’t realize they had horns.”

“Some do. None of the ones I’ve seen in person, though. Also, I figured the ceramic would make it so it wouldn’t float away easily.”

Soren looked at him, lowering his hand and sliding his inner membrane back over his eyes.”Thank you, Corvus. This means a lot to me.”

“I’m glad.” He tilted his head slightly, looking at Soren, and trying a little too hard not to look at the part of his chest exposed by the top buttons of his shirt being undone.

“Hey guys,” Corvus turned, seeing Callum walking over with a girl. She was a mer, with silvery-white hair and pale purple eyes. The whites of her eyes appeared to be a dark grey, with her pupils closer to the size of pinpricks than the normal size. 

“This is Rayla.” Callum gave Corvus a look that seemed to read please don’t embarrass me. 

Rayla looked at Soren. “Hey, Soren. Wasn’t sure you were coming up this year.” The look she gave him was more indistinguishable, her silvery ear fins flashing in an almost irritated fashion.

What was that about?

“Yeah, I almost didn’t. Came because of this guy.” Soren nudged his shoulder, and Corvus raised his eyebrows, looking at him.

“Really?”

He nodded. “Yeah. Not usually my scene.” Soren awkwardly looked away, the fins under his eyes fluttering slightly.

Something was up.

Corvus looked back at Rayla. Her earfins were a silvery-white, similar to her hair, but were more spiked on the ends. 

Was that a midsea mer thing?

He’d have to ask Callum about that later.

Corvus regretted not bringing his notebook with him here.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Rayla,” He said, breaking the silence. “Callum’s told me about you.”

“He has?” Rayla looked at Callum, whose face flushed pink, hiding his face behind his glass of sparkling cider.

Soren gave Corvus a questioning look. Wait are they-?

He gave him a subtle nod, and his fins flashed briefly, from what Corvus could only guess as amusement.

“Corvus and I will let you two have some space.” Soren grinned, pulling him away by the arm.

“Where are we going?” Corvus whispered.

“I have no idea.”

——————————————————————

The two of them ended up outside, in one of the many courtyards that the castle had. This one specifically had a fountain in the center, with hydrangeas growing around the stone base.

Soren’s fingers glided against the surface of the water, the both of them sitting on the edge of the fountain. The only light came from the moon above them, hanging full in the sky. 

Corvus noticed that the second eyelids over Soren’s eyes were now retracted fully. His eyes were closer to the color of the sea than he had originally noticed. Almost like an endless pool-

“Wanna come back down from the clouds, Corvus?” Soren laughed slightly, flicking a bit of water up at him. Corvus’ eyes refocused, feeling his face heat up slightly.

“Sorry. Just, thinking about something.”

“Want to share?” He tilted his head slightly, the fins under his eyes fluttering softly. The glow of his fins was brighter out here, probably due to the lack of light from elsewhere. The warm glow seemed to soften his features, making him seem more… ethereal.

“It’s boring,” Corvus assured him, looking back at the fountain.

“Not to me.” He nudged his shoulder. “Not if it’s you.”

He looked back at him, eyebrows raised slightly. “Really?”

“You are, by far, the most interesting person I know.” Soren paused. “Not that I know that many people, but you are.”

Corvus snorted lightly, “You sure?”

“Yeah.”

I was thinking about you.

“Trees.” He said without thinking. “I was thinking about trees.”

Soren’s fins flashed lightly as he smothered a laugh. “Alright, tree-man. What about trees?”

Corvus shrugged. “I dunno. I mean, I used to live in the middle of the woods on the border of Katolis. Lived there my whole life. It’s just… different, I guess. Not bad, just different.”

“So… you’re out of your depth.” Soren bit his lip slightly, shaking with laughter.

“I’m sorry, was that a sea pun?” He looked at him, a smirk gracing his lips.

“Yes, it absolutely was.” 

Corvus splashed him with a bit of water. “Illegal.”

“Hey-” Soren laughed, knocking his shoulder into his gently. “I thought it was quite inspired.”

He grinned back. “Yeah, yeah.”

[newbornwhumperfly]

through the frightening door...

oof, so this was an angsty one, folks. 😢😢😢 i went and made a sad prompt - @whumpmasinjuly day six: left behind -  even sadder than it already was and in the process, i penned a big part of my boy morja’s backstory, so i’m gonna tag the story crew on this one. 🥺🥺🥺

CW: Grief, death of a loved one, dehumanization, just…big sads in this one, folks.  

title insp. by the poem “my dead friends” by marie howe - “billy’s already gone through the frightening door, whatever he says, i’ll do.” 

~

Diathésimós don’t have graves. 

The fallen must pay for a grave, or their families must, and graves are, they say, costly. Plots of land which could hold a house or a slot of gardened flowers or a new statue does not need to hold a patch of dirt and a stone. The ashes are poured into the wind, as disposable as they were in life. It is rare that a family, if the dead still have one, can afford to pay for the body’s return. It is rare, indeed, for one to ask. 

That doesn't mean their deaths are not marked by those who knew them. 

There is a stone, innocuous and small, where the dead are honored. Some write names down on the stone. Others don’t bother. 

There is one marking, one stone, Morja waits to visit. Part of it might be that he doesn't have to leave until he does this thing he must not neglect. 

It’s more than just the stone, of course. It would be silly to think of that only. There are places Morja won’t see again where she would go. Where she took comfort. And not seeing these places anymore will be the drag of a knife out from where it lodged. And he will pack the spot with rags to stop it from bleeding, field medicine, how well he knows how to do that. How to plug up a wound and keep walking. Don’t stop. If you stop, you’ll fall. 

But there’s…a way only she could find something pretty in this place. Like, there was a spot by the fountain in the courtyard where a stubborn plant grew. And it would get ripped out, an eyesore, nobody intended for this little purple flower to grow between cracks in the base of that marble foundation. But the dirt underneath was strong, Morja supposes, and Roe encouraged it, is the thing. She kept nudging aside the little shiny seashells that surrounded the root - decorative, ceramic, gleaming, imported from some shop to look more perfect than real shells, no sharp edges or rough surfaces. Morja remembers what a real seashell feels like. No, he doesn’t. But his maybe-memory is rougher than the shells in this courtyard. He knows this, at least, in the way he knows when an opponent is about to strike. 

But the purple stays caught in a sunbeam, is the problem. The shaft of daylight through the pillars hits the water as it sparkles and it hits the flower too. The water from the fountain falls on the patch of land bared by Roe’s hands. Somehow, it stays and stays. Somehow, it outlives her. Everything else has, after all.

This is, of course, where Roe’s stone lies. 

Where else would Morja have put it? The dead are dead, of course they are. Gone is gone and bodies are bodies, hollow bullet casings, no powder, no spark. Useless to collect, more useless to hold onto. But Roe wanted a stone. She would have wanted a stone, probably, certainly, yes. 

It is past the alcove with the missing statue where Roe perched, sweat-drenched from long training, or bleeding from a hit, tucked into the space once filled by the bust of a marble head. The space has stayed hollow, still, and on a dark night like this, Morja could imagine, if he were to try, that the black lines of her body melted into the hole in the wall. That maybe she were there, long-limbed and tiny, clambering up in there to nap. 

He told her so often not to. 

What if she got caught?

Her bright, black eyes would shine and she would say that until the statue took her place, this was her spot. 

Hers. Like she’d laid claim to it. So stupid. Nothing was theirs, she could never understand that. 

Past the alcove, still empty, Morja’s quiet steps go past the vine full of berries he was never brave enough to eat. Never disobedient enough. Of course. She got hit for taking the berries and she got more careful at taking them. Those berries weren’t hers to take, just because she watered the vines. 

The rows of women (goddesses, Morja was told) tall and imposing and cool to the touch, their eyes looking down to keep watch on the garden, on its dwellers, and Morja would shiver sometimes when he was younger, passing by them, because what if they saw him misbehave? What if their marble fingers pointed at him in accusation? 

Roe looked up and tilted her head, one foot angled like the goddess with a bow and an arrow, elbow crooked just so, Roe so good with her aim, as good a shot as Morja, even so young. Her palms swipe sweat off, passing over the flat expanse of her torso, tugging at the close-fitting training shirt, and twisting it to match the ripples in the fabric. 

It will wrinkle, Morja fretted quietly.

Do you think I could pull off a look like that? Roe asked, 

The marble’s paint is fresh and gleaming, blue cloth draped elegantly over one shoulder, baring the breast beneath the other, her body small and yet powerful, royal, gold glinting on the folds of her skirt and the twists of her sandals. 

I don’t think we could ever wear anything that…nice, Morja had answered. 

Of course she could have. That’s what he should have said. He didn’t want to raise her hopes. He didn’t- she would have looked royal and powerful as Athena. 

The huntress looks down at Morja, out when he should not be, and he doesn't shiver anymore. He doesn’t quail before imaginary eyes as he kneels at the base of the fountain, the moon shining silver on the purple petals. Other hands have pushed the shells aside since- since the stone was placed behind the blossom. The crude shape of an animal drawn with a shaky hand, white paint on a black rock, traces the outline of tiny hooves, spindly legs, the body of a deer. 

Morja doesn’t know who drew it. It’s beautiful. And he cannot take this stone. This is- it’s tradition and he has to respect it. It would feel wrong to move this stone as stones are not to be moved. 

But he looks at it for a long time. Kneeling on the cold stone, the mist of the water landing on him and wetting his face, taking the role of the tears he cannot shed. The stone and the flower blur before his eyes but that’s just because he’s tired. He’s so tired. 

Maybe…maybe the alcove did belong to her, in a way. She was the one who used it. Maybe the fruit on the vine was hers to sit under, to eat from, unafraid. Maybe this flower was hers because she’s the only one who gave a damn about it. 

Morja doesn’t want to leave the stone. The flower. The alcove and the statue. Fuck, he doesn’t want to leave this stone. What should I do? Who will- nobody will tell me to go. Nobody will, they never will, how can I go when I’m going on my own, when nobody has sent me? How can I leave this behind? How can I leave her behind?

But…she isn’t here. And Morja can’t be, either. Can he? He can’t take this stone. And he can’t stay and watch over it. 

Morja stands, every muscle in his legs protesting, sharp and tingling, at rising. It hurts as much to stand up from kneeling as it does to kneel. But he stands anyway. Leaves the stone under the fountain, behind the flower. 

Roe has gone. 

It is time for him to leave the stone and go as well.

~

oof, i hope y'all enjoyed this important piece of juicy tragic backstory, this glimpse behind the curtain. 😢😢😢💔💔💔

taglist: @haro-whumps @much-ado-about-whumping @whump-tr0pes @whumpthisway

@i-eat-worlds @redwingedwhump @straight-to-the-pain @wolfeyedwitch @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight

@whumpzone @whatgoeswhumpinthenight @whumpster-draganies @lave-whump @whump-me-all-night-long

@suspicious-whumping-egg @tears-and-lillies @kixngiggles @scoundrelwithboba @stoic-whumpee

have a very merry whumpas y'all! 💖💖💖💖

@whumpmasinjuly-archive

[officialstrawhat]

Hello again! Here is the next chapter in my Multi fic :)

As always I hope you like it! I'm currently finishing up the Zou Arc so if I get something wrong sorry :P

Gif is not mine.

The Rose of Dressrosa-Chapter 2

Trafalgar D. Law x Fem!Reader

Summary:

After King Riku is dethroned, Doflamingo takes you under his wing and asks you to follow only one strict rule, "do not leave the palace alone". However, your sense of adventure is too great.

Law had only one thing in mind... Revenge. And you seemed like the best way to do that.

Warnings: Dark themes, manipulation, death, murder, creepy doffy

Word Count: 1.2K

Chapter 1

Seven Years Later…

In the outdoor courtyard of the palace of Dressrosa. Palm trees swayed in the wind, in an ornate fountain water splashed delicately back into the tiled ceramic bowl. And It is there you stare at your dark-haired opponent as she points her pistol at you.

“Give up, Y/N?” She smirked. 

“Not a chance,” you raise your arms in the normal fashion, showing off your bracelets wrapped around each wrist. At the top of the bracelet was a small circular container that was filled with the richest cultivated soil in Dressrosa. Once your hands were in the right place it dispensed the soil out and when it did… “Grow! Parodia! Magnifica!” 

Rapid gunshots were fired as large cactus balls with the spikiest thorns grew rapidly from the cascading dirt. You extended your arms and shot the weaponized flora toward your opponent, stopping the bullets that were heading in your direction.

Baby Five’s eyes widened at the incoming siege and somersaulted out of the way.

“Not bad.” she rose to her feet, dusting off her hands. 

“Not bad at all” a voice from behind you. Turning you saw the man who had raised you. “Your technique has improved.”

“Young Master, ” You greeted, bowing your head slightly. “I didn't know you were back.” you added nervously.

“Just returned.” the warlord told her, you noted the stern tone laced through his words. “Come, I want to have a word.”

You looked back at Baby Five who gave you a reassuring nod. Though that didn’t make you feel any better.

You did as you were told and followed him through the palace to the library. You knew what this was about. He was going to give you “the talk”, again…

Following him into the library, you still hadn't decided how to play this.

“Have I not made myself clear?” He asked darkly, closing the large door.

“I don't know what you mean?” Playing dumb it was then. 

“Don’t lie to me,” He moved closer to you, reminding you again how he towered over people. “Why is Diamante telling me that you went into town- Alone - Again.” With each word the veins on his forehead grew.

When you said nothing he continued, “You can not just leave the palace without an escort. You know that.”

“I just wanted to explore.” You finally say looking up. 

This is exactly what he did not want to hear. “Exploring”, would ultimately lead to learning things that were best left in the dark. He leaned in closer to your face, “And you may, but not alone.” 

“But Doffy, I can take care of myself. You’ve seen me fight, I’ve gotten better!” You assured him.

“This has nothing to do with that.” He shook his head, anger rising.

This didn’t make any sense,“Then I don’t understand why Baby Five and Dellinger can go out by themselves, but I can't?!” 

“BECAUSE I TOLD YOU SO!” he shouted.

He didn’t need your shocked eyes to tell him how he was coming off, he knew, he felt the mask slipping. You had only ever seen him yell at others but never you. He had always been patient with you.

You watched him reign in his anger, as he placed fingers onto the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath. After a few seconds passed, he finally spoke again, “Do you remember what I told you when I first brought you to the palace Y/N?” 

You nodded, crossing your arms and looking away, “You said you would keep me safe.”

“And I intend to keep my promise.” He placed two fingers under her chin, turning your head back to face him. “Over the years Y/N you have grown into a cherished member of this family. I’d hate to see anything happen to my Rose.”

You felt a chill roll down your spine. It's not that you hated the nickname he had given you when you were younger. You used to love it in fact. When you younger it saddened you whenever he chose to call you by your real name.

But recently there was something about the way he said it now… You just couldn’t put your finger on it… 

“Now tell me that you won't leave this palace without permission again.” 

“I won’t leave without permission” you told him, “I’m sorry, Doffy.”

The words were like music to his ears, releasing your chin, he bent down and kissed where your hairline met your forehead. 

“Good girl.” he said, with a large smile on his face he booped her nose, “Now if you’ll excuse me I have to make a call.” 

Turning to leave you, he walked to the door opening it with ease, “Oh and Y/N,” he paused to stare at you through his red tinted sunglasses, his smile gone. “Don’t make me have this conversation again.” 

And with that he was gone. You let out a sigh, cursing Diamante's name. Though luck may have been on your side. Doffy seemed to be under the impression that you had only left the palace once while he was away, which was far from the truth. You’d just have to be more careful next time.

As you made your way to the library door, a book caught your eye just by chance. It made you stop in your tracks, and take a few paces back. Once in front of the collection you reached for the book pulling it out of the neat and ordered shelf. How had you never noticed until now? 

“Tales of Grand Adventures,” you whispered, as memories of Sea Kings, ships, pirates and treasure are revived in your mind. You ran your hand over the gold colored letters and noticed the ‘Volume II’ before sitting on the padded bench and began to furiously turn the pages of the book. A smile graces your face as you remember the woman who would read you similar stories at bedtime.

----

Trafalgar Law had been on Dressrosa for less than a week and could tell something was off.

These toys gave him the creeps and everyone seemed far too cheerful for his liking. He had told his crew to stay off shore for the foreseeable future. He couldn't risk the Donquixote family catching wind of him in town.

It had been a long time since he had seen Donquioxte Doflamigo in the flesh. Law had thought once upon a time there was no one greater than Doffy. But he was older now, wiser, stronger. And if he was going to avenge Corazon he had to be strategic about it.  What could he do to hurt the Warlord before finally taking his revenge. He contemplated this as he sat disguised at a cafe, the two old crones chatted relentlessly at the table next to him. 

“Oh it seems like our Rose is at it again,” one said. 

Law looked up to see a figure dressed in a gray hood, going into a bookstore. 

“The King will be displeased,” Law heard the other say as he sipped on his espresso. 

“I heard he hates it when she leaves the palace.”

“I have no idea why. She is so beloved by the kingdom-”

“And no one loves her more than the king,” She then lowered her voice, “You have to think about it Marta, enemies of the king could be lurking in the shadows as we speak. I couldn't think of a better way to hurt our king than something happening to our Rose.” 

They continued their conversations but for Law the way to revenge was clear. He would pick the petals off of this ‘Rose’ one by one.

And then he would kill her…

Next Chapter

Taglist: @rebeccawinters

[roselyn-writing]

A/N: I’m tired of looking at this chapter; so IF there is typos or errors please ignore it 😁.

Chapter 22

A/N: I’m so tired of looking at this chapter. IF there are typos and errors please ignore it. Tw: death.

“Woe and Blessings”

Happy birds chirped loudly as they stood on a white and golden ceramic, Elegant three-tiered bird fountain inspired by Roman architecture. The fountain is spacious, and big enough for a lot of birds, The water cascaded generously through each layer, birds of various colours and sizes were standing on fountain, and some birds leaned their beaks and drinked happily to quench their thirst, Other birds swam in the water to cool themselves after a tiring, long journey.

The garden unfurled like an ocean of the greens to the visitors, it is vast, and breathtaking. magnificent garden. Majestic trees of every conceivable variety stood like sentinels, their branches intertwining as if they were hugging and greeting each other, a living canopy of emerald and jade, Vibrant flowers and roses carpeted this magnificent garden, they differs in colours, vivid hues — Scarlet, lilac, and azure — dotted the landscape like jewels strewn by some careless jeweller.

Amidst this splendid lush; huge marble columns rose like ancient warriors, their pristine white surfaces etched with rich Roman patterns and designs that spoke of elegance and sophistication. Golden and white furniture with exquisite designs dotted the garden, It varies from tables to chairs, benches and pedestals, to anyone who wants to rest and enjoy the scenery.

This is Sire’s Aham shinging garden after all; All are welcome, save for evil, careless and cruel people, He won’t accept them at all. They’d ruin the garden he worked hard to create. This wonderful and breathtaking place is the product countless centuries of round-the-clock work, and unrivalled dedication to build such a wonderful garden.

To Sire Aham, the garden was more than mere flora and fauna — it was the very essence of his soul made manifest. Each delicate flower, each towering tree, even the tiniest of details spoke volumes about the Protector’s dedication. The Light Protector — in his infinite wisdom and power. Made this holy and heavenly place for the people, whose heart untainted with evil and malice.

His magical spells and his heavenly pure energy contributed to make this place, his personal sanctuary — also, a sanctuary for those whose hearts tired from sorrow, For those who seeks hope and wisdom, They can attend this place to witness its glory, and chat with the great protector himself.

If anything, Sire Aham isn’t selfish, He isn’t anything but — he would share this heavenly sanctuary with the people, with those pure hearts and gentlest of souls, who could truly appreciate the breathtaking splendour that surrounded them — a splendour that whispered of worlds beyond mortal’s comprehension.

The mighty protector clad in white and golden robes that fit his muscular built and towering frame. He placed his palm on one of the biggest and ancient trees he’d cared for. The very first tree that he and Queen Balkees planted after saving her people from the monstrous giants that once hunted her people for food. With eyes heavy with sorrow and love, The mighty protector smiled sadly as he remembered her, his first wife — the one he’d pledged to protect and rule with. She was beauty and the beast. The warrior Queen of Virginia; known as the mighty Balkees.

He wouldn’t lie to anyone but he gave each tree and each rose a name. Surprisingly, his hands were uncalloused from ceaseless time he spent on caring for this garden.

Shortly, The towering trees and the beautiful flowers swayed gently by the breeze that blew through, as if to caress them with its soft and sweet air. Sire Aham, blessedly transferred his heavenly energy across the breathtaking spacious garden, the trees and the lush had eagerly accepted his holy energy. In answer, they swayed gently at his direction. shortly, the garden grew more beautifully with his holy magic.

Immediately, the place erupted with a loud chorus of gasps and murmurs, the sound filling the air with an atmosphere of awe and joy. Their mouths formed an ‘O’ shape as they witnessed this holy scene.

Not long after they witnessed the breathtaking moment, Sire Bilal and Sire Kilam came in tow.

They greeted the mighty protector, they bowed and placed their fists on their hearts — the traditional greeting of Virginians, A slient nod came from Aham, The great protector of Virginia.

Immediately, The people quietly walked away from the place, They knew it’d be a private matter to be discussed by the great protecter and his friends. It is but a small act of gratitude and respect from the people towards their beloved and great Protector.

Sire Aham, who is at this moment, sat at his comfortable, spacious desk made of white and golden ceramic, embellished with intricate geometric patterns.

Sire Bilal, The aspect of time and astrology, he approached the protecter respectively. He gazed at his friend — and most importantly, his protector and leader, with all respect and kindness he could muster in every fibre of his being. Sire Bilal is truthful and genuine when it comes to showing love and kindness to people. Let alone his protector and hero.

The aspect of time and astrology could simply be described as: Kind and brave man, along with his signature appearance; Tall and tank-like, he has flawless cocoa skin, A particularly notable feature is his deep-set, large, his sky-blue eyes, he let his pearl-blonde shoulder-length hair loose. An impressive Roman nose-shape that tells so much about his heritage, and lastly, large ears and full lips.

He wore long silver white vest, underneath it long-sleeved silver and gold top adorned with different paisley patterns; It fit his muscular torso perfectly, long sirwal white pants and golden leather mughals shoes that decorated with red and black beads. Sire Bilal despite his simplicity yet he is fashionable and desirable among many women in Virginia.

Meanwhile, the same thing could be said for the current aspect of twilight: Kilam Moryre, He is also a tall, handsome man, considered by many of Virginian women. Yet he is known for his handsome and his extraordinary yet charming appearance.

Approximately, standing at 6’6, Kilam Moryre; is a handsome man with extraordinary charm, He is a kind man with intense emerald-green eyes, warm ivory smooth skin — a strong jaw that can easily swallow iron and spit out nails. Short and smooth, slightly messy pecan hair, his bangs fell on either side of his cheeks gracefully, as they contorted his hard cheekbones. He’d dressed as the same clothing as Sire Bilal but with different colours and patterns.

They bothed glanced at their leader, who seemed to be sipping his favourite jasmine-tea that he produced magically only moments prior before they start speaking to him. Both Sire Bilal and Kilam grinned at this.

Quietly, Sire Aham placed his tea cup on its saucer, while simultaneously maintaining eye-contact with his friends. He was waiting patiently for what about they’re going to tell him.

The one who’d spoke first was Sire Bilal, as the older one of the two, primarily, due to adhering traditions and customs of Virginian heritage.

As he chatted; his tone is filled with concern, he told the great protector about his protégé, Hakeem, a gifted student who, despite his abilities and skills, lacked the most important virtues and aspect must possess: patience and humility.

It was for this reason that he had come to Sire Aham himself, and sought his counsel, in hopes of guiding Hakeem, or even offering an advice to help him in this matter. It is indeed a worrisome situation, Sire Aham pondered. The latter intently listened as he interlocked his fingers together in contemplation, he leaned forward in his chair, and his focus solely on Sire Bilal as he continued to speak about his situation.

Kilam’s handsome face betrayed a mix of understanding and concern as he listened carefully, He was well aware that this no-nonsense situation. To have an arrogant protégé is every teacher nightmare. Thus, this matter demanded their utmost attention and seriousness.

After long moments of intense silence, Sire Aham finally spoke: “Thank you for coming to me, Sire Bilal, this matter is indeed worrying and I will provide you the necessary advice and assistance, so rest assured,” Sire Aham’s voice is firm and steady, it betrayed no concern or worry.

Sire Bilal nodded in agreement, “Yes, we must do something before his arrogance leads him astray, He has potential but it must be guided to the right direction.”

Sire Aham nodded solemnly. “'I have some ideas in mind that could prove effective. But first, we must understand why Hakeem has become so arrogant. Perhaps there's more to his behavior than we realize,” He began, his tone is benevolent yet authoritative. “Surely, There is something, this bad attitude is stemming from, like insecurities? Perhaps? Or maybe a defense mechanism?”

Sire Bilal pondered as he scratched his jaw. “Maybe that is the reason,” he said, still scratching his jaw.

Sire Aham smiled benevolently as he placed his hands on his desk and glanced at his friends, He is glad to help and offer advice for those who’d needed it. “Well then, I wish you all the best, Sire Bilal,” Sire Aham spoke, his tone is laced with benevolent.

Sire Bilal bowed in gratitude to the Great Protector. “Thank you, Sire.”

He smirked “My pleasure.” He glanced at Kilam. “Do you require my help in something?”

Kilam immediately raised his hands and shook his head. “No, Sir, not at all,” he muttered.

The Protector brought his cup to his lips “Alright then.” Then he leisurely sipped his favourite jasmine-tea.

With a nod of respect to their leader, Sire Kilam and Sire Bilal quietly left the garden, leaving their leader to have private time and to enjoy his tea in tranquility. He mentally thanked them as he’d appreciated some alone time in his magnificent and beautiful garden. The trees, the flowers and the birds, and even the small ponds, it all brought peace and joy to his benevolent soul.

As the two Sires made their way out of the shining gardens of their venerated leader, Sire Bilal and Sire Kilam engaged in conversation as they walked, Kilam, In particular, was quite chatty about his fondness for a particular tea-house in Al-Mahumdah city, Describing it as the finest tea in the city, He likes it alot, he’d always speak frequently about it.

Sire Bilal wholeheartedly chuckled. “Lead the way, old friend.”

Malrūn is known as the city of ancient evil and demons. The red-crimson sky looms above, casting a sanguinary hue over the city known for its wickedness and evil. Buildings of obsidian and brick rise into the crimson-tinted air, their gothic castles and homes resembling black thorns. The city's borders are encased in a dancing wall of fire, eternally flickering but never dying out. No being know how this unholy ring of fire came to be.

This city of darkness, hatred and damnation, known as a hellish place in this beautiful world. Its streets are filled with sinister shadows and twisted structures of black and flaming carmine. Even the sky above is a swirling maelstrom of flame and blood, as if the very air were steeped in hellish malevolence. Beyond the city limits, The very presence of the city is an oppressive, malevolent force upon the soul. The thick atmosphere filled with a rancid smell, as it is blood and sweat combined together.

Yet, The denizens are unphased by the horrors of this place – they are pretty much used to live in it. And they go about their sinister business like some spooky spectres in the silent night.

They move with silent, ghost–like grace through the city’s dimly lit streets, the air thick with spookiness that doesn’t match the silly Halloween spooky nights – it is much scarier and much more haunting.

The baleful light of the city’s is merely ever-present, and it is hauntingly casted a few monstrous shadows on the surrounding buildings, And a few bloodcurdling shrieks then and there — As if they reverberated from the underworld itself.

Right now, in some specific building in this cursed city. Stood none other than Vamonessyia herself, though usually. She’d be on her daily night escapades doing what every other succubus does with mortal men. However, she stands alone, A solitary figure amidst the shadows and the unholy stillness that pervaded the city. The red sky hangs above like a baleful omen, casting an ominous light upon the place.

She stood alone in the shadows of the cursed building, her gaze fixed upon the crimson sky above. Her slender figure is outlined against the flickering embers that encircle the city, casting dancing shadows upon the stone walls. Her eyes, a mixture of sensuality and cunning, seem to reflect the very flames that burn eternally beyond the city's limits. She is a succubus in every sense of the word, the embodiment of alluring darkness and sin.

Normally, The Succubus would be found in the colourful places, Like the Virginians’ cities or any other kingdom in this world. She’d be drawn to the vibrancy of life. But on this particular night, something compelled her to be in this very building, the heart of the cursed city of Malrūn. She was well aware of the dark and sinister history of this forsaken, ugly place, and the knowledge of it only served to heighten the sense of unease that filled the air.

The ebony-haired succubus silently meandered around the cursed building, she quietly and soundlessly stepped in every corner and room. She took a few glances then and there as if she is reminiscing this place. Contemplating if she misses the former beauty of Malrūn – and somehow, A faint feeling in her cold heart yearned if not missed the old Malrūn. The once vibrant, beautiful city known as ‘Korotúba’ before the demons took over it and made it in their image.

Having lived for thousands of years, she had witnessed countless important events of this world. Yet the memory of the corruption and downfall of Korotùba seemed like it had happened only yesterday. She remembered the city as it once was, a place of beauty and grandeur. But now, it was nothing more than a hollowed out shell of it’s former glory. A mere shadow of its former self — no trace of the former beauty or glory remained. All that remained was the ring of fire around the city’s borders that never ceases to burn out — the endless cycle of sin and despair that had devoured the city for centuries.

She crept silently, her footsteps light and soft against the stone cold floor. Her sharp eyes scanned the area, taking in every detail. A few inches away, she’d spotted a demon guard, his breathing slow and steady as he slept. He had fallen asleep, no doubt while on watch in that particular place. She knew she had to retrieve the keys without rousing him. She crept closer, her movements slow and deliberate, the sound of her breath barely detectable in the still air. She had noticed the keys softly and soundlessly dangling from the guard’s belt.

With a blood-chilling grin, her hair had sprang to live like a serpent – doubling ten times its usual size and length, and reached out – strong and thick ebony tresses soundlessly moved towards the sleeping guard; and plucked the keys from the guard's belt, silently delivering them into her waiting palm.

She clutched the keys tightly in her palm, her fingers wrapping around the cool metal. She padded silently towards the door, the soft whisper of her footsteps barely noticeable. With a single, smooth motion, she inserted the key into the keyhole, and a soft click echoed through the air. Vamonessyia cast a quick glance over her shoulder, checking if the demon guard had awakened. Miraculously, he was still sleeping peacefully, completely ignorant of her presence. Seizing the opportunity, she wasted no time and quickly slipped inside the door, as she continued to venture deeper and deeper into this horrid place. As some random thoughts ran through her mind.

Her thoughts abruptly came to a halt when she stood before the ancient-looking door, she smirked, Its surface covered in runes. With a quick flick of her delicate hand, the door creaked open, and she stepped into the dark and dusty room beyond. The rancid stench of decay assaulted her nostrils, and she scowled in disgust. Even her heightened senses were being overwhelmed by the sheer foulness of the atmosphere. Cobwebs clung to every corner, and loose bones were scattered about the floor.

To say this chamber is horrendous and stenchy is an understatement, the stench of rot and decay quickly began to overwhelmed her, and she desperately wanted to take the thing she’d sought and leave the place.

The raven-haired succubus ould barely contain her disgust as she stepped further into the chamber. The smell of decaying flesh and rot was almost overpowering, and she had to swallow hard to keep from retching. It was clear that this room was a place of suffering and death, and the thought of what had taken place within these walls made her skin crawl. She quickly pushed her revulsion aside, however, knowing that she had come here for a purpose. The sooner she found what she was looking for, the sooner she could leave this hellish place.

Vamonassyia quickened her footsteps as she moved further into the morbid chamber. With each step, the dry bones of countless victims were crushed beneath her heel, the sickening crunch echoing in the stillness of the room. Though she tried not to linger on the sight, she couldn't help but notice that some of the bones were unmistakably human, while others were not. She coldly glanced at the dry, crushed bones for milliseconds. Then she pressed on, deeper and farther into that foul chamber.

The atmosphere within the chamber grew more oppressive as Vamonassyia moved deeper into its depths. The walls seemed to close in on her, and the air was thick with the scent of death. The stench of decay hung in the air like a heavy miasma, and the shadows that flickered in the dim light seemed to dance like sinister phantoms. Despite the gruesome surroundings, Vamonassyia pressed onward, her eyes fixed on her goal

As she continued pressing deeper into the dark chamber, she became fully aware of the gruesome surroundings. The walls were littered with dried bloodstains, and the air was thick with the reek of death. Skeletons, some whole and some in pieces, were scattered across the ground, creating an eerie carpet of bone and decay. The shadows in the dim light danced and flickered around her, further adding to the foul atmosphere of the place.

Eventually, she had found what she is looking for. A multiple ancient-looking grimoire stands lined together in a perfect measure. Seemingly, some of them are empty but thankfully, The one she is looking for is there. Vamonassyia's heart quickened. She scanned the rows of worn leather-bound tomes, noting that several of them were empty. But there, amongst the collection, she spotted the one she had come for. As she reached for it, her fingers gingerly flipping the ancient yet unworn pages. The grimoires were even older and more ancient than she’d realized, with their wooden stands still sturdy despite the passage of time. The runic symbols etched into the covers and pages were unfamiliar to her, but she cared little for their significance.

Despite its age, the grimoire she held in her hands was surprisingly well-preserved. The cover was made of ancient leather, worn and tattered but still in a fairly good condition. The pages within were yellowed and brittle, but the writing was still legible. The runes that adorned the book were written in a language that she didn’t recognize, their meanings hidden from her. Nonetheless, the book seemed to exude a sense of power and knowledge, and she cradled it in her arms as if it were a priceless treasure.

The pale-skinned Succubus felt a mixture of excitement and trepidation as she held the ancient grimoire in her hands. It seemed almost miraculous that the book had survived the passage of time, and she couldn't help but feel a sense of wonder as she gazed upon its weathered cover. She ran her fingers over the faded runes, feeling the power contained within the pages. The mystery of the unknown language only added to the book's allure, and she felt a sense of anticipation in her chest as she prepared to read it.

But she’d closed the ancient grimoire with a loud snap, Feeling a sense of triumph washing over her. A sly smirk tugged at the corners of her red-blood lips. Now that she had succeeded in her mission, she needed to get out of this foul place once and for all; then she flicked her hand, a thick scarlet smoky cloud enveloped her, and in a sudden burst of swirling red smoke, letting out a loud ‘poof’ sound as she teleported from the desolate chamber, then she materialized in her favourite place. Her vibrant and colourful palace; nestled among some Virginian mountains.

Ready to proceed with her vicious plans.

To Aliyaa Aepel; life is meaningless now. Her father – the only person who loved her and cared about her is gone. Her estranged mother did nothing as she greeted the people in the funeral with an expressionless face – a face that Aliyaa no longer recognised. She quickly wiped her tears from her eyes as she’d look at the attendees. She feels like a lost ducking without her mother; but her situation is quite a little different, she lost her father – not her estranged mother.

Aliyaa's tormented mind floated away, drifting into a blank and empty space deep within her mind. She felt lost, unsure of her emotions and what to do. Just two days prior, she cried her heart out in her room; engulfed by a sense of hopelessness. She felt utterly powerless, as if she'd never be able to move forward after losing her father. She missed him dearly, the void of his absence a constant ache in her heart.

Aliyaa whimpered as she bitterly wiped her tears with her sleeves; she felt as though she was drowning in her own sorrow, consumed by grief and despair. To her, Life had become a hollow abyss, and she couldn’t envision a future where she could find happiness again. She missed her father sorely, and the pain of his loss seemed like an unbearable weight on her soul that she would never be able to shake.

The young woman felt as though the light had been extinguished in her life, leaving only darkness and despair in its wake. She found it impossible to fathom a future where she could find joy once more, as the weight of her father's death weighed heavily on her heart.

Her wariness was palpable, her tear-stained face and sore throat bearing testament to her constant weeping. She’d still clung desperately to the idea that she was living in a an endless and horrific nightmare, a torment that had consumed her for whole to days. The anguish of her torment psyche had left her incapable of grasping the brutal reality that now enguled her existence.

After the funeral concluded; and all those present paid their respects to Hadi Aepel. As her estranged mother silently cleaned the room where the attendees used to be, Her estranged mother taking her time in cleaning the room; where once the attendees were in.

Left alone with her daughter in the sepulchral silence that had descended upon the abode, Aliyaa’s estranged mother, a specter of her former self, moved with a ghostly vigilance through the chamber where the mourners had once congregated. Her fingers, like skeletal tendrils, grasped at the detritus of the occasion - cast-off handkerchiefs, forgotten floral tributes, and similar things - as she worked to restore some semblance of order to the room; she silently and momentarily looked her eyes with her daughter.

A few days had passed, Aliyaa still find herself ensconced within confines of her chamber. Still mourning her late father, recalling every memory and moment where the two would spent together from shepherding, eating, playing and even talking together in heartfelt conversations.

The void he left behind seemed too vast to fill, leaving her to drown in a sea of sorrow that seemed impossible to escape.

Eventually, Aliyaa had finally emerged from her room, her stomach loudly protesting its neglect. The young woman, consumed by her grief and misery, had become apathetic towards her own well-being, neglecting herself due to her grieving. It was a familiar pattern; people often did strange and dangerous things when overcome with sadness – neglecting themselves, depriving their bodies of food, and so on.

She moved quietly into the kitchen, her long, wavy black hair bouncing lightly with each step. With practiced swiftness, she quickly prepared a simple morsel of food - a piece toasted bread and some cheese.

Aliyaa grabbed a plate, setting it on the counter before quickly grabbing a slice of bread and some cheese. Swiftly, she put them together on the plate, creating a light snack. She paused for a moment, her brow furrowing as she tried to shake off the numbness that had settled over her soul. She knew her body needed nourishment, but the idea of actually eating wasn't particularly appealing. But she knew she had to do something, so with a resigned shrug, she picked up the plate and headed back to her room, determined to at least partially satisfy her growling stomach.

After she ate and moved to her room; her estranged mother stopped her. Aliyaa timidly looked at her mother. She was cold, emotionless, and emotionally strained.

Farrah, the beautiful Virginian woman with striking ember-eyes and silky thick black hair that glistened when the sunlight hit it. She is the daughter of an esteemed Virginian merchant. ‘Azer’ that was his name.

Farrah quietly made her way to her daughter. Her steps quiet and calculated. As soon as the gap were closed between them; she’d raise her hand and slapped her daughter across the face.

“It is your fault!” She cried, tears streaming down her cheeks, As she proceeded her slap her poor and shocked daughter. “He SHOULDN’T have brought you here!”

Aliyaa’s eyes widened, she timidly placed her hand on her reddened stining cheek. Brought? She thought, what is she talking about? She said within herself her thoughts raced on her already tormented mind. No, she is lying! I’m my Father’s daughter!

Farrah’s face contored in pure rage and hatred Her once beautiful face turned into a scorned scowl of fury. “Yes, You are NOT our daughter!” She venomously hissed, Then her fist balled up into a fist and struct her daughter straight on her face. Her anger and her fury fueling her blows. “You are just a baby he brought to take care of!”

Aliyaa gasped as she stumbled backward, barely balancing herself from falling down her knees under the weight of her mother’s merciless blows. She felt the sting of her mother’s hand against her already throbbing cheeks. The pain was sharp, but it was far less than the pain she felt in her heart at her mother’s cruel words. Why? She thought. Why is she doing this to me? She wondered as tears welling up in her eyes.

“Mother… please,” she begged her. Her tone landen with hurt and hope, She glanced at her mother. Her eyes filled with tears. “Please..”

Farrah scoffed in her disgust. “If he hadn’t brought you: he’d still be alive!” Her tone full of hatred and contempt. Then she slapped her daughter again.

Aliyaa moaned in pain as she held her cheek; looking up at her mother; silently begging for mercy. Why, she thought again. She wasn’t like this!

Farrah approached again, her hand already balled up into a fist, poised to strike again. But this time, something inside Aliyaa clicked. she had enough of everything: pain, torment and her mother’s merciless blows. Fearlessly, she’d pushed her mother.

Farrah yelped as she stumbled backward, momentarily surprised and shocked by her daughter. then she scowled at her daughter. Without giving her daughter a chance, Venomously and furiously, she lunged at her daughter.

She tried to tackle her but Aliyaa was quick on her feet. She dodged her mother’s attack, sidestepping to the side and leaving her mother to stumble on empty air but the older woman wasn’t easily deterred.

“You brat!” She hissed at her daughter again, her hands trembling with fury. “How dare you lay a hand on me?” She’d lunge at her daughter again but Aliyaa was agile and nimble, easily slipping out of her grip like a nimble cat.

The corridor became a chaotic whirlwind of motion as Aliyaa continued to dodge her mother’s wild attacks. Her heart thundered in her chest like a galloping horse, adrenaline fuelling her every move. She had never experienced anything like this before, her own mother attacking her with such frenzy and anger. Her own mother didn’t use to be like this!

As the woman continued to fight each other. Their struggle took them to the grand staircase of their mansion. They’d push and shove each other. Each determined to overpower the other, like two cats fighting over a morsel of fish. And then, almost unexpectedly, Aliyaa made her final move to her mother. She’d push her mother causing the older woman to cry as she’d stumble and lose her balance. Over and over, she tumbled down the long, and grand stairway her body screaming in pain as it crumbled, bones shattered as she fell on the hard steps then she fell down with a painful thud.

Lastly, The older woman’s body halted, landing with a loud smack on the hard floor at the base of the stairs. Her face was upturned, facing her daughter’s face. Her eyes were dead and cold as her gaze was accusatory.

Aliyaa stared down at her mother’s corpse. Her heart frozen in shock. She hadn’t meant for this to happen, her ember-orbs widened as she’d scanned her mother. Silently praying that her mother was still alive. Praying that she hadn’t caused her own mother’s demise.

Her heart hammered in her chest as she took a tentative step down the stairs. She wanted to go to her mother, to see if she was alright, but she was also afraid of what she might find. She carefully made her way down the remaining steps, her eyes fixed on her mother's bruised and broken form.

When she finally reached her mother's side, she knelt down and tentatively reached out to touch her. Her hand hovered over her mother's battered form, unsure of what to do. She gently shook her mother's shoulder, her voice quivering as she whispered, "Mother...?"

But there was no response. Farrah's body remained still, lifeless, a chilling silence filling the air. Aliyaa's heart constricted in her chest, the reality of what had just happened washing over her like a cold wave. She had hoped, prayed, that her mother would be fine, but now, as she looked at her mother's motionless body, she knew the truth. She had caused her mother's death. She had pushed her down the stairs, and now: she is gone.

"Mother...please...please say something," she whispered, her voice barely a whisper. But her mother remained silent, her body limp and lifeless on the cold, hard floor.

"Please," she pleaded again, her voice cracking as tears welled up in her eyes. Her mind whirled, trying to come to grips with the terrible truth that her own actions had caused her mother's death.

She tried to shake her mother again, to coax some sort of reaction, but there was nothing. The only sound was the quiet, eerie stillness that settled over the room. Aliyaa's mind was filled with a storm of emotions, and yet, one thought stood out: What have I done?

Aliyaa stood frozen, her eyes wide and her heart pounding in her chest. In the distance, she heard a familiar voice. Her grandmother's. Her mind spun, trying to make sense of the situation. What's going on?

But then the sound of her grandmother's gasp echoed through the house, followed by the older woman's anguished cry. Oh my Farrah! Aliyaa's breath hitched in her throat as she realized her grandmother had found her mother's corpse.

She needed to get away, to escape this horrible reality. Without a moment to waste, she hurried to her room, quickly packing a small bag with essentials: clothes, snacks, and the money her late father had given her.

With her bag in hand, she made her way to the backyard gates and slipped out into the cold, black night. She didn't look back, unable to bear the sight of the sadness and misery that she had left behind.

[cryptid-stimming]

Mosaic Tile House Venice, CA

[Image description: a 9 gif stimboard; from left to right.

First line: A close-up gif panning over a glass door made from a mishmash of different cuts of coloured glass. A gif panning around an analog clock on a wall; mirrors & ceramic pieces, coloured letters, jewellery and other small trinkets are mosaicked all around the ticking clock face. And a gif of an outside structure's underside (the structure looks a little like roots) covered in mirror shards.

Second line: A gif of a porcelain cow skull with glass red eyes set in a pillar with mosaicked shards of mirror and ceramics. A gif in the pov of someone as they walk towards an intricate gateway, the gate has flowers and wavy interlocking painted metal. And a gif of water bubbling in a mosaic fountain, ceramic animal figurines are mosaicked into the back of the fountain alongside ceramic tiles and shards.

Third line: A gif panning down and over painted colourful tiles on a garden pathway, a gif of people reflected walking in a mosaic broken mirror (the shards are set in almost a starburst type of pattern). And a close-up gif panning over a glass door made from a mishmash of different cuts of coloured glass

End of image description.]

[drowning-in-cacophony]

Count The Days

Written for @flashfictionfridayofficial Prompt 257: Count The Days

Count the days.

Go on. Count them. Flick your fingers down the calendar like rifling through a box of worn lovelorn letters, feel those moments slip under the tips like autumn leaves from a tree. There’s nothing to be done about them falling away: it’s gravity, it’s inevitability. The heat death of a universe: our universe. Neither you or I can halt the progression. Not even if you beg, promise or swear.

Count the days. Make the most of them.

               Early mornings, because why waste time sleeping when every hour is precious, a shining diamond cupped in our hands? The rising sun plays out against the walls, a golden stained glass. Beautiful, bittersweet. You hold me, I hold you, my tongue stuck. Glue against the top of my mouth; your hair perfume in my lungs. The sun traces a path across the paint.

                Late nights, because even these hours are dreadfully precious. Crossed legged, bending foreheads towards each other. Your skin, warm under mine. Your hands, delicate and wound in henna, cradled. So soft, the light tungsten and backlit, your eyes shadowing pools on mine. Assurances in the twist of your lips, sad understanding in the weight of your words.

               We wonder together, and wonder apart, but never wander away. Not yet, not when there are still days to be counted. A timer stitched into our hearts, a deadline bomb that no technician can defuse. Moments wasted to the shower, water thundering down, rain inside ceramic. Moments stolen by gritty eyes dropping shut, snatches of troubled darkness in between all this limited light. You drag a hand down the kitchen counter, I fry up an omelette, the eggs bubbling softly. Your hair, tumbling down one shoulder. To memorise it or enjoy it – that’s the question now.

               Walks through the neighbourhood, stories as numerous as the stars above on your lips. Filled to bursting, your throat, my mind, and our hands are intertwined and your shoes scuffed. The velvet above is probably beautiful yet it’s only you I’m staring at, basking in it all. The stars are millions of years old; even they have timers, hurtling towards their burn out. Maybe this is what we’re in, the moment of the supernova. Blinding bright, and blinding painful, before it all comes compressing down to explode again.

               Count the days. The calendar getting thin now, a line of neat blue crosses fluttering about like wishes in a fountain. I scoop the water in the sink, let it trickle between my fingers. You with your arms around my waist, lips pressed between my shoulder-blades. My heart throbs, a beat straight to you, a private demonstration of the reason I breathe. It’s you, you, you.

It’s always going to be you.

               Dawn, dusk, curled up in our bed. Dips on the covers where our bodies have dug in, permanent reminders of our flesh. Declarations that we were here, and you take us to the cliff’s edge to stare out at the wild sea and carve our names into stone. It won’t wither, won’t chip away like the scores we bore into the harsh grey. Our declaration, a vandalization to all that is natural.

You reach out, a little finger twisting. It fits to mine like the sea to the cliff’s face.

The sunset, all its vivid colours burning over the kitchen tiles. Leaning your head in my lap, gazing at the dust motes gently swirling through the air. Little molecules, all burst apart, and a stirring hand parts them only for them to fly together again. Your eyes are heavy, hard to meet. My fingers tangle in your hair, ropes to tie us together. As if that was all that’s needed to stand in face of this.

Count the days; we do nothing but count them until there’s nothing left to count at all.