#orange beach al

[rentbyhost]

Pet Friendly, Water View 3 Bedrooms Bungalow for rent in Orange Beach, A...

[bwgif16-blog]

[apollos-olives]

is there region specific aspects of Palestinian culture? Like certain foods mostly eaten in the West Bank than Gaza, or outfits that are region specific?

hmmm yeah so gaza has a lot more seafood options. they have different recipes for fish and shrimp and whatever else they can catch. west bank isn't really close to the sea so seafood that's fresh isn't super available. gaza grows good peppers and spicy stuff too. i've never been in gaza so i can't tell if there's much else of the difference between west bank stuff and the things they have in gaza, but since gaza is closed off from a lot of things, west bank has a lot more food variety and options.

each city has it's own clothing designs!! clothes you'll find from gaza will be different than clothes that you'll find in nablus, for example. clothes you'll find in al-quds (jerusalem) will be different than the clothes you'll find in ariha (jericho). there was a post floating around on tumblr with an old palestinian woman showing each different design from different cities. tried searching for it for like 10 mins but came up empty. if anyone finds it pls lmk!!

i hope this helps!!

[dynamitebrokers]

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[cleanairservicesmi]

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[outdoorhardscapes]

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[gulfcoastmo]

Buy Your Dream Homes in Orange Beach, AL and Perdido Beach, AL

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[merakiui]

タコの花嫁。

yandere!azul ashengrotto x (female) reader cw: yandere, nsfw, non-con, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, arranged marriage, oviposition, breeding, royalty au note - in an effort to bring peace to two warring sides, you are engaged to the sea queen’s son.

If anyone is to blame for the abysmal diplomacy between the Land and the Sea, it would be your ancestors. Pompous and foolhardy, they thought they could rule the grand seas stretching out from the harbor, beyond weather-worn docks with their rotted, seaweed-strewn planks and briny fetor. The ocean was vast, unexplored territory—a dangerous, deceptive beauty harboring life far beneath unruly waves.

And your ancestors intended to claim it.

Sailors would recount tales of fishfolk—uncanny creatures who looked more marine than the two-legged mammals of the land. They’d raise mugs, each overflowing with ale, in drunken merriment, terrifying themselves with the mysteries of the deep, dark sea.

“It ought to give ya a proper scare straight to Davy Jones himself!” they’d say, voices lowered conspiratorially. “Soon as yer candle goes out and all ya’ve got’s the moon to guide ya… You’ll hear ’em slip through the water if yer listenin’ well enough.”

“You ever go and spy one up close?”

“I’d sooner see the Devil himself and let him keelhaul me before facin’ those cursed beasts!”

“The cut of their jib ain’t so pretty. Enough to give men like us a fright and we’ve seen all sorts of somethin’.”

“Monsters, I say! Monsters!”

Festivals were held to keep these beasts at bay—to prevent them from gathering the courage to creep up onto the land. Every year, during the summer solstice, pits were hollowed on the shore and bordered with stones. Flames licked towards the sky, red-orange fingers clawing for purchase amidst the stars above. Townsfolk would sing and dance late into the eve, bellowing songs passed through the generations. Children would skip up and down the beach, torches in hand, and cry out an old chant: “Fish for you and me are meant to stay in the sea! Should you see one on land, may the Heavens strike it down with a gentle, loving hand!”

Their excitement did well to ward off the fishfolk. Sometimes the lone child would spot one in the distance, peeking out from between the rocks before diving back under in a splash.

On land, humans were safe. On land, the fishfolk couldn’t catch them.

It was different in the sea.

Ships were destroyed in terrible tempests. The waves tossed them around as if they were nothing. Many sailors would find their demise at the bottom of the ocean, torn to shreds with shattered skeletons. Viscerally brutalized, they died with secrets on their tongues—secrets of the strange fishfolk who’d drag them down, down, down to a watery grave.

On one cold February afternoon, the octopus prince was brought into the world. In shadowed fathoms, a grand celebration was held. After so much time—misfortune after misfortune—one fry survived out of the entire clutch. He was round and soft and small, colored blue from exertion and fighting through the tug of the current to reach home. The Sea Queen met him halfway and embraced him, ecstatic tears in her eyes, for a mother’s love is stronger than any political power.

“My little Azul,” she said, stroking a hand along his cheek, “how precious you are.”

No ships were sunk; no lives were lost. It was a peaceful day for both the Land and the Sea. And it would continue to be so in the future. Every year on that same February, it was made a day of peace to honor the little prince.

A day of life, not death.

It was on that same February eleven years later when you were tossed into the frigid depths like a hatchling cast out of its nest. Similarly, your birth had been a wondrous occasion. Your parents brought five boys into the world, each just as adored as the last, but they had been hoping for a daughter. It was a miracle when their fervent wishes were finally granted. You were spoiled as all daughters often are, pampered and doted on by your family and the palace staff.

Your brothers, though protective and caring, were a troublesome and rowdy bunch. Kyffin was the eldest. Two years younger was Emyr, and another two years behind him was Owin. A year younger than him were twins Morcan and Martyn. They picked on you as all immature boys often do when caught up in sibling rivalries, aiming to be the only one their parents see. To prove themselves as the best, the strongest, the wisest.

So it was with a half-cruel heart that Emyr tossed you into the waves from where he stood in the rowboat.

“Only way to learn is with exposure!” he called down to you, watching as you struggled against the push and pull of the sea. 

“C-Can’t!” you shouted back, choking on salt and flailing about. “E-Emyr, I can’t—can’t swim!”

“Don’t be silly,” Owin added with a sweet smile. “It’s how we learned. That old sod threw us right in. You’re lucky it’s us and not him. He was awfully mean with it, wasn’t he?”

“Terribly so.” Emyr watched your struggling a moment longer and clicked his tongue. He held the oar out just before you could slip under, and you clung to it with shaky hands. “Come on—let’s get you up here. You’re not gonna get it today.”

“Fin got it on his first try.”

“Fin gets everything on his first bloody try.”

Relieved, your heart pounding like a drum, you peered up at your brothers. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get it…”

“Nothing to apologize for. You’ll get it one day.”

“We’ll keep trying until then. And once you do, we’ll throw you a big party.”

“Really? Will you really do that?” Your expression brightened, but your brothers’ faces darkened. They saw the shadow before you did. Saw the webbed hands reaching out, the serrated teeth glinting in a sinister smile.

And then—

Owin leaned over, his arm outstretched. So fluid was his motion that it took you by surprise. “(Name), grab on! Hurry! Before—”

The rest of his warning was muffled by the water. You hardly had any time to brace yourself when you were yanked under, your nails raking across the wood of the oar as you went with the force of the pull. Salt stung your eyes when you cracked them open, peering frantically at blurry surroundings. Teal-green specks slid silently through the shadows, mismatched eyes flicking over your form. And then there was a high, raucous sort of chittering. Like a dolphin’s cry, loud and piercing. You squeezed your eyes shut and pressed your palms against your ears.

It only lasted a few mere seconds, but it felt like an eternity trapped in the coils of a creature you couldn’t comprehend. One moment you were holding your breath and the next arms were hooked around your torso, and you were pulled up and into the belly of the rowboat. Your hands flew to your throat, and you coughed up seawater while Owin patted you.

“It’s fine. It’s…okay,” Emyr muttered, his voice shot through with fear. It was the most shaken he’d ever sounded.

Blood fogged in the water, staining the tip of his harpoon. He gazed down at his hand. A deep, jagged gash ran angrily from palm to wrist. He hissed and closed his fingers in a tight fist.

“We gotta get back,” Owin was saying, still rubbing soothing circles into your back. “I’ll row. You rest.”

“Not good,” Emyr said instead, shaking his head in dismay as he watched your attackers retreat.

“We’re still in our waters, right? We didn’t go past the boundary, did we?”

“Let’s hope not.”

“We didn’t, right?”

“Let’s hope—” Emyr paused, collecting his words. “Let’s hope those monsters were in the wrong.”

“Father’s gonna kill us.”

“If not us, the monsters.”

Both brothers looked towards you. Your tunic was torn, stained through with saltwater and blood. You shivered all the way to shore.

Following that mishap, an official meeting was called between the Land and the Sea. The King—your father—met the Sea Queen at the border. He stood proud on his ship, peering down at her with fire in his old eyes.

“Your Majesty.”

The Sea Queen was just as formidable as those who came before her. Her tentacles unfurled as one, and if you looked at them long enough they almost seemed to take on the shape of an obsidian-colored crinoline.

“I believe my mother and your father made the terms quite clear all those years ago,” she said, a wave lifting her to meet the King at the deck of his ship. “So then, with that in mind, there should be no reason for us to meet under these circumstances.”

Emyr and Owin stood just behind their father. You peered through their legs at the Sea Queen, silently amazed. You’d never seen anyone quite like her before. At least, not a real person. You’d seen her in storybooks, depicted as a fearsome beast with devilish features, and though there was something intimidating about her gaze and build she appeared understanding enough. Her grey skin was sleek in the morning sun, her long, silvery strands tied up and pinned with an ornate hair ornament. She looked beautiful in a magical, enigmatic way.

“I couldn’t agree more,” came the clipped response of your father. “Alas, misfortune has brought us here.” He stepped aside to allow her to behold Emyr’s bandaged hand. “Harm has befallen my son and daughter. I suppose you might have an inkling as to why they find themselves in their current state?”

She frowned, but you couldn’t tell if it was out of sympathy or some other emotion. “Perhaps one of them can give reason to the wound now marring one of my subject’s sons.”

Your father glanced overboard at the snake-like merman cradled in the arms of another merman. They looked near-identical, their features unmistakable. He glanced back at Emyr, his gaze hard. “Go on then. Explain yourself.”

Emyr stepped forward. “With wholehearted respect, Your Majesty, it was out of self-defense. Your kind—they attacked us first.”

“You were in our waters!” one of the mers exclaimed, pointing a clawed finger towards Emyr. “It’s all your fault Jade got hurt!”

Owin hurried ahead, his hands gripping the taffrail. “He’s playing it up! It was a graze!”

“He could’ve died! You almost killed him!”

“That is enough,” the Sea Queen said, jutting an arm out to silence both sides. “I understand everyone is hurt here. Our feud lies in misunderstanding.” She gazed at you next. “Little one, we have yet to hear your story. Do share.”

You glanced at the guards, at Owin and Emyr, and then at father. He nodded encouragingly. “U-Um!” Shyly, you approached the Sea Queen. “My brothers were teaching me how to swim. I don’t know anything about whose water is whose. I just wanted to learn how to swim.” You met the fierce scowl of the mer holding his twin brother and quickly looked elsewhere. “He grabbed me before my brothers could pull me up.”

“Because you were trespassing. Anyone who tresspasses ought to—”

“Floyd.”

At the not-so-subtle warning in his father’s voice, he shut his mouth and snarled. His brother—Jade—was handed off to their father, who assessed his state with a frown.

“He will live, but it will take time for him to recover. My son is right. Your son could have killed him.”

“Just as your sons could have killed my sister!” Owin shouted, glaring.

Floyd stuck his tongue out, remorseless.

“It is impossible to know which side is in the wrong,” your father began, turning towards the Sea Queen. “Seeing as both have been injured, I am willing to apologize on behalf of my sons.”

“What?!” Owin’s head turned towards his father. “You’re bloody mad! Have you not seen—”

“Father,” Emyr interjected evenly. “We have nothing to apologize for. We were within our waters. We had no ill will towards the others. It was completely innocent.”

The Sea Queen hummed her contemplation. “The boundary was drawn for a reason, decided upon by those who came before us, and yet it does more harm than good. It is not for safety’s sake. It is to keep us divided—to ensure that neither side will ever know peace.”

“And you’re implying that we get rid of it?”

She nodded, quite serious. Everyone looked on in equal parts shock and disbelief. “Why do we continue to fight? It does nothing but open old wounds, rendering them incurable. Innocent lives are lost in petty squabbling. And for what?”

To that, no one could offer a smart reply.

“Therefore I propose peace. A union to welcome a new era—one in which we embrace one another as allies without animosity.”

“A union?” Your father raised a brow, suspicious but willing to listen. “I suppose it would be beneficial. My people would be free to travel the seas at their leisure.” “And mine would no longer have to live in fear of being thoughtlessly slaughtered and taken as trophies.”

“Unbelievable,” Orwin muttered.

Emyr elbowed him. “Knock it off.”

“We’ll collaborate on a contract. One that dissolves the invisible boundary that has been the cause for so much suffering. In order to attain true peace, I shall offer you my only son.” She glanced at you and then back at your father. “Your daughter shall marry him when they are of age.”

“What?! No way! Ew! Gross!” Your voice came out shrill and you shook your head in protest. “I don’t wanna marry an octopus! No, I won’t do it!”

Your father stood in front of you. “She’s my only daughter. If something were to happen—”

“Which is precisely why I bring up this engagement. Should they be betrothed, we as their parents will promise to uphold peace to give them bright futures and they will act as the first example of a human-mer alliance. Unions between humans and merfolk are unheard of, but is this not the best way to foster harmony between the Land and Sea?”

“I won’t do it! No! Don’t make me marry a gross—” Emyr gathered you in his arms, holding his uninjured hand over your mouth.

“Let the grown-ups talk.”

Owin frowned. “I still don’t agree with this…”

Your father mulled it over, his eyes glazed in thought. “Very well. We will create a contract—an official peace treaty.”

Both leaders shook hands and planned to convene at the end of the week to discuss further.

You watched the mers depart, each one slipping under the sea. Floyd was the last to go, staring at you with a mean sort of vitriol. And then he, too, dove under.

“He didn’t mean it, right?” you whispered to Emyr after your father gave the order to turn the ship around and head for land. “I won’t have to marry an octopus, right?”

Emyr could only offer a commiserate frown.

“She’s a brat,” Floyd spits. “Stupid, evil Two Legs.”

Jade chuckles and runs his fingers over the scar. “I consider it an honor.”

“Yeah, well, I think it’s messed up. She’s the reason you can’t ever swim naturally again. While she’s up there in her pretty, little tower, safe and sound, you’re still hurting.”

“It’s not as much of a hindrance as you may think. I’m not weak, mind you.”

Floyd grumbles. “Still. She’s mean.”

Azul gazes up at the palace, sighing dreamily. “She’ll be my wife someday. That’s what humans call it, yes? Husband and wife… What wonderful words.”

It’s been one year since the peace treaty. Since then, humans and merfolk have made an effort to get along. This is the second time Azul will be meeting with you. He’s nervous. The first time you went out to sea to greet him, and he’d gotten so anxious that he inked right then and there. His mother entertained you from where you sat in the boat with your personal guard. It was a mortifying experience—one that had taken him months to recover from.

Now he’s going to try to meet you in the shallows. Try is the key word here. He’s scared, all three hearts beating as one. Is it too late to reschedule?

“I can’t believe you’re actually okay with this. You that lonely?”

Azul turns to scowl at both twins, but it’s mostly directed at Floyd. “I never asked you to tag along. Leave me alone.”

Jade smiles. “And let the Queen’s little prince swim to his death?”

“I can take care of myself.”

“Sure you can. But what about when Two Legs gets ya? What then?”

“She wouldn’t do that.”

Floyd rolls his eyes. “You saw what her brothers did to Jade.”

“Because you tried to kill her.”

“Because she was in our territory!”

Azul huffs and pushes him away with a tentacle. “Regardless, we’re supposed to be on good terms now. You’ll break the contract if you try anything dangerous.”

“He’s right, Floyd.”

“Ugh. Whatever.” Floyd turns away, stubborn. “This is lame. I’m not stickin’ around.”

Jade lingers long enough to observe the way Azul lights up when he spots you on the stone steps. And then he disappears beneath the water.

Barefoot, holding your dress up and out of the way, you pad across the beach.

“Why are you here? I’m busy. My brothers are taking me into town.”

The smile that had been fighting to break out on his face frosts over. “Oh. I… Um…” Azul fumbles with the conch shell he’d collected on the way here. A gift for you. He made sure to study human speech patterns in the months leading up to this meeting. He’s fully prepared! And yet you look so displeased. “F-For you! I found it…”

You stare at the shell clutched in a dark tentacle. Tentatively, you reach for it. “Why?”

“Ah. W-Well, my mother says gifts are an important part of any bond. In the sea, we give gifts to the ones we care about. To friends and family and o-other halves…”

You turn the shell over in your hands. “We’re not friends.”

“Not yet,” he tries, but you shake your head.

“You ran away from me the last time we met. That’s not very friendly.”

His face flushes blue and he opens his mouth to argue, but nothing comes out. It wasn’t on purpose.

You’re already turning on your heel. “I don’t have time for this.” You toss the shell over your shoulder. Azul watches it land in the sand, just out of his grasp.

“W-Wait! I… I want to talk to you. Please don’t go. You’re going to be my other half one day, so I’d like to—”

But you’re already dashing across the beach to get to the stairs.

Azul deflates against the rock. Tears overflow in floods. Is it because of him? Is he to blame? Why don’t you want to be his friend? Is it because of the peace treaty? Why?

Why? Why? Why?

Azul doesn’t want to think negatively of you. Humans are sensitive creatures. He reads up on them in the palace library, poring over literature and textbooks in an effort to better understand you. But as the months pass and you seem to simply tolerate him for the sake of the alliance, he begins to suspect something.

It’s made apparent the next time he sees you, where you walk right past the beach to catch up with your brothers. He hides behind the rocks, two blue eyes following your figure until you’re out of sight.

Floyd was right. You are a brat.

And yet he can’t hate you.

On the eve of your eighteenth birthday, Azul meets you in the shallows.

Nowadays you send letters, preferring strained long distance over the personal intimacy of face-to-face relations. These exchanges are purely diplomatic. But now that he’s asked to meet with you, a rare occurrence, you’ve deigned to greet him in person. It’s the least you can do after he’s gone through the trouble to travel here. It’s been so long since you’ve seen him that he’s almost unrecognizable. You remember the round, baby-faced octo-mer from your childhood. The one who lounges against the rocks is leaner now—his features defined, jawline as sharp as his eyes. They cut through the gloom to find you.

“You wished to see me?” You’re in your nightwear, a silky gown with an even softer robe. A cool breeze blows across the beach, and you wrap your arms around yourself for extra warmth. “Azul?”

He hesitates, his gaze trailing up your legs. You’ve also changed a lot in the time you’ve been apart. You’ve grown taller, filling out in places he didn’t know humans could fill. What he’d give to hold you… His mother says he needs to be patient. Fickle thing that you are, you’re the reason he’s spent six years trying to appease you through letters—to win you over and be anything more than that “annoying octopus” you’re doomed to marry. Perhaps it would have been easier to act just as you do if it weren’t for the fact that he’d been elated at the premise of having someone to love. When his mother broached the idea in the days following her meeting with the Land King, he’d stared at her with wide, excited eyes.

“There’s a human girl who wants to be my friend?” he asked, to which his mother smiled and nodded.

More than a friend, actually, but then all he was focused on was finally getting to experience the one thing he’d never known or had: friendship.

Sighing, he foregoes formality and holds out a necklace. It dangles from the tip of his tentacle. Strung on a dainty, silver strand, pearls wink back at you under the moonlight. Azul averts his eyes, his cheeks a pleasant periwinkle.

“Happy birthday…”

“Oh.” You move in closer, taking the necklace from him. His tentacle pursues you, twining delicately around your wrist. “Um… What is it? Do you need—whoa!”

Azul tugs you closer. The sea laps at your ankles. Beneath a tapestry of stars, you meet his azure stare. His features are set with a determination you’ve never seen before.

“I want to start over.”

“Start over?”

“I’d like to be on friendly terms with you. We’re so cold. Distant…” Azul frowns, seeming unsure of what to say or do next. The tentacle laced around your wrist like a bracelet tightens its hold. “We’re to be wed one day. I want to make this work.”

You blink at him. He thinks he may have gotten through to you, having finally broken through layers of stone and ice, but then your nose scrunches and odium shimmers in your gaze.

“That’s impossible. I’m a human. How am I supposed to live with an octopus?” You shake him off with a huff. “I’m not sure what our parents think this will accomplish. I don’t want to be a pawn to be moved around for the sake of peace. I’m my own person.”

Azul’s expression sours. His lip curls up into a sneer. “Well, I don’t find it very enjoyable either. You’re not the only victim in this scenario.”

You exhale an exhausted breath. “Azul, I appreciate the gift, but it doesn’t mean anything if you’re only giving it to me to curry favor.”

I wasn’t, he thinks, but he doesn’t say that. Admitting it would be a weakness. Admitting it would mean coming to terms with an unrequited opinion.

“At least one of us is making a conscious effort.”

“At least one of us isn’t trying so hard. It’s pathetic.”

“You’re not obligated to accept my goodwill.” He smiles, smug. “Yet you do every time. I’d wager you enjoy my materialistic affections.”

“As if.” Despite this, you hold the necklace out of his reach when a tentacle flexes towards it. “It’s mine now.”

“So you are fond of my ‘pathetic’ ways!”

“I’m not!”

You jerk away with a vicious scowl, but your foot catches in the sand and you quickly find yourself tipping backwards. If not for the tentacles that coil around your waist to steady you, you would have fallen on your rear. Your chest heaves with adrenaline. Stunned, you stare at Azul.

“You…caught me,” you breathe, lips parted in awe.

“Did you think I’d let you fall?” He cocks his head at you, grinning playfully. “Why, I’d never! Unless it’s me you’re falling for, in which case I gladly welcome the—”

“You’re such a pest.” Untangling yourself from his grasp, which he allows without scrimmage, you step away from the water’s edge. He watches you secure the pearls around your neck, and his hearts stumble in his chest when you point an accusatory finger at him. “Don’t delude yourself with foolish nonsense. I have no interest in you.”

With an indignant harrumph, you start towards the palace.

“May we meet here tomorrow?” Azul calls out after you, testing his luck with what little chance he has.

“Don’t push it.”

“I’ll wait for you.”

“Good. Keep waiting, dummy!” You break into a sprint, hurrying off into the shadows.

Azul smiles at the empty beach. Whether or not you like him, it doesn’t matter. You’re to be his one day. You’ve always been, ever since he was eleven.

He’ll wait, even if you won’t show.

Ostensibly, twenty-one years wise, you’re getting married today.

Your gown is just as exquisite as your hair and makeup. Pearls cling to your throat and arms—classic wedding attire for merfolk. A thin veil shields the scheme in your stare.

This was an inevitability, but you’re determined to fight it until the end. No matter how quickly time seems to pass, you’ll do everything you can to stall and slow it.

Gripping a sharpened dagger in a resolute fist, you drag it through the long, sprawling train of your gown.

“As if I’d marry an octopus,” you grumble, cutting fine fabric until you’re permitted smoother movement. Gazing at yourself in the mirror, you scowl. “I’m no one’s bride.”

By the time the maids arrive to check on you, you’ve already stolen out the window.

The rowboat sways on choppy water. You’ve watched your brothers do this enough times to have the technique engraved in your memory. Your arms strain with the oars, every muscle screaming in protest, but you fight through the pain. The palace looks smaller and smaller with every passing minute. Eventually, you’re so far out that the land is but a mere speck.

It’s going well. You’re escaping towards a better future—a future without the octopus prince.

You glance towards the horizon. Your boat undulates with the waves.

You’ll miss your brothers, your maids, your personal guard…

Water slops over the edge. You yelp, startled. Have the seas always been so rough?

Despite everything, you’ll miss your father.

Just as you think this, your boat rocks to the side. You grab onto the edge to steady yourself, but it’s already too late. It tips over and you go with it, careening into the sea with a noisy splash. Twin shadows cut seamlessly through the murky water. You catch sight of a yellow eye before you propel yourself towards the sky, coughing and heaving once you break the surface. You grab onto the overturned rowboat, your dagger clutched in one hand.

You search the surface for them, eyes flicking to and fro in a frantic panic.

Somewhere… Anywhere… Where are you?

And then you find them, peering at you from the other side of the boat.

“Go on then,” you spit, glaring. “Kill me.”

Floyd bares his teeth at you. “This time I ain’t gonna leave a scar.”

“You know we mustn’t. That’s not why we’re here.” Jade smiles at you, but there’s something in his eyes that unnerves you. “Your Highness, you should know it’s poor manners to leave the groom on his special day.”

Floyd circles you restlessly. “S’not fair we gotta be nice when you’re so mean.”

“I’m not going to marry him.”

“I’m afraid you don’t have a choice in that matter.”

“What’d Azul ever do to you?”

You attempt to answer that before realizing the truth. Nothing. He’s done absolutely nothing but be kind and understanding and patient. And I took that, chewed it up, and spat in his face.

“If you used that brain of yours, you wouldn’t have thrown yourself to the sharks. We can’t get to you on land.” “But it’s fair game in the sea,” Floyd finishes, every syllable dripping with pride. “Stupid Two Legs.”

“I’m inclined to agree. You’re not the brightest human. A pity.”

“My brother should’ve gutted you when he had the chance. Maybe then—”

You see the whites of Floyd’s eyes when he strikes, launching himself at you with a clawed hand, sharp, pointed teeth aiming for your jugular.

This is it. You’re dead.

…or not.

The searing pain never comes, nor does the impending laceration. You cling to the boat and watch dark tentacles rise from the depths to close around Floyd, ensnaring him in a firm hold. He thrashes, snapping his jaws like a deranged beast.

“Let go of me, Azul! Lemme at her! She’s a bitch! I’ll kill her!”

“There will be none of that.” Azul tuts. “I don’t intend to marry a corpse.”

Jade swims over to you. “My feelings aren’t hurt in the slightest, Your Highness. If it weren’t for your status and connection to Azul, I’d have disemboweled you ages ago. Quite a relief for you, yes?”

You swallow your horror, allowing him to detach you from the boat so that Azul can turn it over. A tentacle curls around your waist, lifts you from the water, and places you back in the boat. You stare at your hands. They’re trembling. You can hardly hold the dagger properly.

It takes some convincing and a lukewarm apology from you, but Floyd promises to be good. He doesn’t do anything as you’re pulled back to shore, but he does stare at you for the duration of the trip, his eyes tracking your every movement. You press yourself into the belly of the boat, defeated and riddled with anxiety.

Your father isn’t pleased. When you see his enraged expression, the debate dies on your tongue. “You are to marry the prince,” he seethes, pulling you aside, “or else you jeopardize the peace of our kingdom.”

You’re washed and fitted in a new dress. Guards are stationed at all possible routes to prevent another escape.

When you walk down the beach to meet Azul in the shallows, your veil shields the sadness in your stare.

The ceremony carries on without incident. Floyd watches from the water, lurking like Death. You speak rehearsed vows in robotic monotone, mindlessly floating through the rigmarole like it’s second nature. Azul smiles at you through it all, sweetly smitten.

It’s a nightmare lived in real time.

Humans and mers alike congratulate you, cheering for this momentous occasion. Your tongue is numb by the end of it all. You’ve expressed faux gratitude so many times that it hurts to even force the words. And now, as night descends and the party kicks into full swing, you’re left reflecting on the day.

Freedom feels so far away. You’ll never know it again, will you?

Azul guides you away from the crowd. Firelight grows dim with the distance. Eventually, you find yourself taking refuge in a tiny inlet cut into the beach. A rocky outcrop hides you from the moon’s spotlight.

“I’m not upset,” Azul murmurs, curling a tentacle up your leg. “But Floyd is.”

“His brother’s the one who hurt me all those years ago.”

“That was before the union.”

“I’m not letting it go.”

“Perhaps not now, but you will. One day.”

You don’t believe him.

“Our people are at peace. Aren’t you pleased, my love?”

You shove him away, gathering heaps of your dress to walk in calf-deep water. “I’m not your love.”

“Legally, you are.”

“That means nothing to me. Absolutely nothing.”

Azul sighs. “Even now, after everything, you’re still trying to flee.”

“For good reason. I don’t want to be tied down.”

Azul inches closer. Another tentacle wraps slyly around your ankle.

“You’re so beautiful. I feel like the luckiest mer in the sea. To be able to call you my own… My beautiful bride.” He pulls you closer. You resist weakly. “Now that we’re alone I can finally tell you the very thing I’ve thought of ceaselessly for years.”

A tentacle slides up your leg, straying closer to your inner thigh. You flinch away.

“Azul, wait. I don’t want—”

“I love you.”

You squirm in his hold, attempting to thwart the tentacles that grab at your every limb. You trip over yourself in the process. This time Azul doesn’t catch you. Water laps at your dress, soaking through at once. He’s radiant beneath the moon. Dreading his touch, you scoot as far from him as you can get in the water, hoping to reach land. Azul seizes your wrist and pulls you into his arms. You fight him with more force.

“No… No, let go of me! Release me!”

“Why should I? You’re mine now. Is it not customary for a married couple to consummate their new bond? We do something similar in the sea.” A tentacle brushes your veil back so that he can look upon your pretty face. “I’d take you to a quiet space in the seagrass, lay you down in the sand, and then—”

“I don’t want that! No!” You lash out, swinging blindly. A tentacle shoots out to stop your arm before it can smack him. “Azul, please—”

“I was patient. I waited and waited in hopes that you might warm up to me. I cherished you in silence. I learned your language. Your customs. Your habits. I wrote to you. Traveled to meet you. And yet you look at me as if I’m a monster…”

It’s not the devastated look in his eyes or the edge in his voice that scares you. It’s the startling gentleness with which he handles you. Tentacles loop around your body, exploring beneath your gown. You wriggle in discomfort, yelping when suckers brush against the frilly garter secured around your thigh. Azul hums and holds you up in his tentacles, using two to spread your legs so that he may slide it from your leg.

“I wasn’t forceful. I courted you kindly. You accepted all of my gifts. You wore them proudly and I thought—I knew you would love me, too. You were mine from the moment our parents signed that agreement. And if you leave me, you’ll break a political promise and then our kingdoms will go to war and I’ll be sure to collect the heads of your family first. Each one of them, and you will watch as I bring ruin to the kingdom you love so fondly.”

“N-No… Please stop. Please.”

“I’ve waited ten years for you.” A tentacle hooks around your panties. You thrash again, shaking your head at him. He remains unconvinced, watching with gleeful eyes as your nudity is revealed to him. “And aren’t you an angel? Oh, you’re so pretty…”

Like your hopes, your panties are cast aside.

The tip of a tentacle prods curiously at your pussy. Your breath hitches.

“W-Wait! You… You can’t.” His eyes find yours, and you swallow the rising sob. “T-That can’t go inside… It won’t fit. It won’t—”

Azul smiles. “Of course it will. The human body is capable of marvelous feats.”

Even though it’s pointless, you struggle. “I can’t! Please… Azul, I’m scared. Please don’t do this…”

A lone tentacle slides into your hand. Thoughtless, you hold tight.

“My love, there’s no need to cry. I’m not going to hurt you.” He brings you closer, kissing your tears away. “I’m here for you. I’ve always been here, even when you didn’t seem to need me.”

You hiccup, your chest heaving. It’s not lonely for long, for he pulls your dress down your shoulders. Your breasts spill free and are quickly cradled in cold hands. Azul watches your expression with an intense focus while he rolls your nipples between his fingers. You grit your teeth, refusing to respond. But then the tentacle between your legs finds your clit and a sucker affixes to it, suctioning slowly. You gasp and throw your head back, bolts of pleasure racing up your spine. It happens in a white-hot flash. You slacken in his grasp.

Azul laughs, astonished. “Did you cum? Already?”

“Nooo,” you whine, closing your hand around the tentacle once more. Another one strokes your cheek. “You’ve had your fun. Now let go of me…”

“What a silly demand.”

He tugs on your nipples. You groan, lashes fluttering. “Ooh… Stop. No, stop it… Don’t touch there. Not—haa… Not there!”

“You’re so sensitive.” He drags the underside of a tentacle along your cunt and shivers. “And so wet… Is this your season? Do humans experience such a thing?”

You’ve no idea what he’s referring to, but before you can dwell on it he leans down to take your perky bud in his mouth. Your free hand grabs at his hair, pinning him to your chest. His tongue laves across it, warm and wet. You shouldn’t enjoy it so much, and yet you can’t stop yourself from crying out.

He hums against your skin, beaming like a devil. You can’t hate him. He’s your husband. He’s yours. You shouldn’t hate him.

You’re falling apart in his tentacles, grinding down to chase the bliss provided by the underside of the appendage clinging to your pussy. The sinful squelch of skin on skin fills the quiet inlet. The scent of sex and salt intermingles. It’s wrong and it’s right. It’s instinct, carnal and corrupt. Azul groans against your breast, your teat between his teeth.

“Az—ooh!” You tug on his hair, insatiable. Your brain is fogging over with lust. You don’t want to lose yourself in this madness. You can’t. “N-No more… No more.” 

But he’s not listening. He pinches your other nipple between his fingers, and that’s all it takes for you to unravel.

In the aftermath, the tapered tip of a thicker tentacle squirms between your thighs. Mindlessly, you spread your legs and lift your hips for him. It presses in shallowly, a jarring experience.

“Not inside—don’t! You can’t!”

Azul pulls away from you, his expression scrunched in woozy ecstasy. “Why not?” he mumbles, smiling stupidly. “You’re my bride. It’s only fair…”

Before you can bicker, he kisses you. His tongue pursues yours in a sloppy tango. You lick into his mouth, desperate and dazed. Lost in a sea of salacity, shipwrecked on an island of forgotten inhibitions.

The tentacle pushes through rings of tight, slick muscle. Tears spring to your eyes. It feels weird and foreign, so unlike your fingers. He holds you close, minding his strength and pace. It fills you slowly, reaching places you’ve never been able to feel. The lust numbs your senses and gives way to something animalistic—a base desire you’ve suppressed. Azul rocks the appendage deeper until it’s pushed up against the entrance to your womb, squeezed snugly in your warm walls.

“I-It’s in…” you mumble once he’s broken the kiss, a strand of saliva connecting your mouths. “It’s really…inside me…”

Azul kisses your cheek and pets you with a tentacle. “We were made for each other.”

Surely not, you think, but it feels so when he draws back and thrusts in. Maybe he’s right.

He fucks you gently, savoring every single sound you make. He tells you he loves you, whispers it over and over like it’s prayer. You nod dumbly, grabbing at his hand to hold it. The both of you are gasping in unison, chasing cloud nine. In just a few more deep strokes, his tip bullying its way to your womb, he finally finds his end. A thin substance fills you up in plentiful amounts. Distantly, you think it’s water until he drags your hips further down. Your mouth drops open in a strangled scream as something round and gelatinous passes through. It settles in your womb, and you know right away that it shouldn’t be there.

You panic. “W-Wait… Wha—Zul… Stop… No, I don’t want—”

“It’s all right,” he breathes, his mouth on your shoulder. He soothes you with soft shushes and even softer kisses. “You’re okay. I’m here.”

You dig your nails into the tentacle curled in your palm just as a second orb squeezes through. He groans, his eyes squeezed shut.

“Finally…” He pants, a wobbly smile stretching on his delirious countenance. “Finally, my love, my dear—oh, my beloved bride!”

He cradles you like a mother would a newborn. You lie there as he fills you, your voice hoarse from babbling and bewailing. These things—little orbs of jelly—are stuffed into your womb, and by the time you surpass twenty you lose count and blank out, trembling through yet another orgasm. You’re not sure how many more he has left or how many more you can possibly fit. It feels too good to think about that.

“Bigger. They’ll get bigger. You’ll look so pretty—round and full and soft.”

Dizzy, you glance at the bloated dome that is your belly. Your gown strains over it, an impressively deceptive size that you almost mistake for pregnancy. That’s when it clicks. Eggs. These are eggs.

“I’ll make sure they survive. All of them—as many as I possibly can. I’ll stay by your side. I’ll keep you content. I’ll fill you with love—so much love—an abundance of it, and you’ll never know emptiness again,” he rambles, resting a tentacle over your distended middle.

It’s not just a senseless sweet nothing. It’s a promise.

[creditableheating]

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[b1acksh33p999]

Aesthetic of your Venus sign:

🔥Aries: Red lipstick/red clothing, fireball whisky, Broken promises, dedicated love, spiked apple cider, city lights.

⛰️Taurus: a warm cup of tea, healthy communication, loving demeanor, soft browns, high expectations, loyalty beyond words.

🌬️Gemini: blue eye shadow, surfing, tan lines, hot girl/guy summer, tiny tank tops, freckles, wine coolers, boat parties.

🌊Cancer: lace, warm tea on a chilly night, pina colada on a beach, unspoken promises, protecting children, strong family ties, elegant yet playful.

🔥Leo: diva, celebrity energy, big hair, bright clothing/makeup, independent personality, deep red/magenta, boundaries, loud voice.

⛰️Virgo: neat, conservative style, political chic, browns and white, small/ delicate jewelry, lipliner and lipstick, soft winged eyeliner, wine tasting, low key freak in the sheets, shiny hair.

🌬️Libra: blue and purple, full face of makeup, still looks good after a night of partying, wavy hair, trendsetter, versatile style, rocks the current trend, glitter, natural beauty.

🌊Scorpio: black and deep red, maroon lipstick, strong winged eyeliner, Halloween night, cemetery chic, tarot cards, rooftop sex, planetarium.

🔥Sagittarius: city lights chic, bright and fun aesthetic, yellow/ orange/ pink, adventurous, multiple partners, bedhead, museums, NYC nightlife.

⛰️Capricorn: churches, pastel colors, relaxing at the beach, red apple ale, monogamy, a walk in the park, unspoken boundaries, vintage style, lifetime of loyalty, clutch bags.

🌬️Aquarius: white/silver/ turquoise, goddess aesthetic, aesthetically pleased by shades purple and blue with hints of black, hot gothic chic, versatile style, commitment issues, ice cold water.

🌊Pisces: silk, sunsets, nature, waterfalls, open toed shoes, comfortable aesthetic, purple/ gold, animal lover, sunrise on the beach, waffles and ice cream, vacation vibes, healing hearts, mending broken promises.

[stardewremixed]

🎆 Fireworks Headcanon 🎆

(And subsequently Independence Day ones since this is 4th of July where I'm from).

Alex- not really a big fan but would toss around the gridball on the beach while waiting for them to start. Super nostalgic about the picnic though. Used to do that with his mom. All the favorites (and Granny doesn't disappoint). Carries the basket out and helps her setup and even tries to get Grandpa George in the spirit by asking about his old war stories.

Abigail - loves them and would raid her dad's secret (illegal) stash to get the big ones to set off with Sam. Drags Seb into her shenanigans. Ends the night with a big bonfire on the beach, telling scary ghost stories. Who's afraid of the big bad wolf? Not this gal.

Elliott - Earlier in the day, he's a bit annoyed by the sudden appearance of so many people on the beach. He wanders off to contemplate a poem about patriotism and glory. Might crack open a pale ale at the Stardrop before heading to the waterfront. He is a romantic so of course, he loves fireworks! Preferably in a little boat out in the ocean, away from the crowds. Maybe stealing time with Farmer (or if not in a relationship, with Leah).

Emily - has a little fireworks dance! Magic! Trying to pull Haley outside to enjoy but her sister won't budge. Emily is passing out little flags to her friends and neighbors. And she's decked out in patriotic colors, handmade bandana and hair bows and all.

Harvey - is too busy treating the idiots who set off fireworks and got burned to really enjoy them. Might start some "sparks" of his own if Farmer comes to drag him outside to enjoy. *wiggles eyebrows* They are far more exciting than fireworks (and something about these fiery lights in the night sky is romantic... or at least that's what someone once told him). Absolutely sipping wine coolers once he's off duty.

Haley - smoke messes with her hair and makeup and clothes and no... that would be a hard no. But she does enjoy holiday sales earlier in the day, stocking up on her favorite treats, athleisure wear, and cosmetics.

Leah - She's moderately interested in fireworks, and may feign more interest for the sake of Elliott. Wanders off into the forest to enjoy quiet. In honor of the "rebel spirit," she skinny dips in the Cindersap Lake and embraces "one with nature" vibes.

Sam - loves them! He's probably setting off the big (illegal) ones. Don't tell Lewis. Organizes a beach volleyball game, pulls in Seb and Abi, Alex, and maybe even Penny, but promptly gets distracted when he remembers he's supposed to rehearse for the official town ceremony. He also plays the national anthem (rock ballad style, of course), and tears up every time.

Maru - will try and explain all the scientific properties to you - how fireworks actually work. Robin will remind her not to bore you to tears. Demetrius is so proud of his little girl. What else is new? The smoke bothers her eyes a bit though during the actual show so she may just turn in a bit early.

Sebastian -gets dragged into shenanigans with Sam and Abigail. Slinks off to steal a smoke on a dark corner of the beach. Ducks out early to go watch old movies in the cool of his basement. It's too noisy and hot out there anyway. He would, however, be up for snuggles.

Shane - meh! Sells them at JojaMart. Would toss around a gridball with Alex first for kicks and giggles. Could prove his superiority in a hot dog eating contest. Probably burns off an eyebrow trying to set a firework off for Jas (and plays it off like it's no big deal).

Penny - enjoys them, but is busy trying to corral Vincent who wants to get too close and Jas who's a little scared (and upset about Shane being injured). Earlier in the day, she gets pulled into Sam's beach volleyball game. It's a good opportunity to wear her cute orange bikini. While she's always nervous about showing skin, today she's feeling a bit braver.

[missameliep]

Bonds of Sea and Fire - Part 2 (Blades of Light and Shadow)

Book: Blades of Light and Shadow

Pairing: Tyril Starfury x Arwen (MC - F!Elf)

Summary: How can trust be forged? At the Wraith's deck, Arwen and Tyril have a conversation under the stars.

Word count: ~3.000

Rating: G

Notes:

* English is not my native language;

* Characters belong to PixelBerry;

* This takes place between chapters 6 and 7 from Blades of Light and Shadow - Book 1.

This is my submission to @choicesaugustchallenge hosted by the lovely @lilyoffandoms - Day 10: late night talking under the stars

At the deck of the ship, Imtura was on her natural environment. Not a member of the pirate crew would dare blink at one of the instructions the captain shouted.  

The Wraith’s sails, filled with a fair wind, spread like wings, taking them away from those cursed islands until they vanished. The sunrays peppered the waters with a shimmer that rivaled the fae fishes’ glow, and there was so much beauty in the world one could risk forgetting the dangers lurking not only in the shadows. 

The waves were like mischievous kids, crashing against the hull and spreading a salty misty all over the deck, heaving the ship high into the air just to let it fall and catch it once more.

The motion was harsher than she’d like, however Arwen was confident. Confident the ship would carry them to the shore no matter the weather. A confidence born from the faith on Imtura’s abilities and determination to find the missing shards and bring Kade back.  

The challenges faced were enough to seal the bond and she came to trust not only her, but all the companions – even if the feeling might not be mutual when it comes to one of them. Her gaze, like in so many occasions these past days, was instantly drawn to the other elf of the party, cleaning the blade of his sword at the opposite side of the deck.

With a heavy sigh, Arwen lets her head fall back on her crossed arms. Eyes on the blue sky and on the passing white clouds, she tries to relax, but her mind constantly drifts to the two shards inside her satchel. Two more to go. At least a week’s journey until Undermount after beaching.  

Hopefully, they’d find the next one there. 

Hopefully, she’d also find the answers to questions of a lifetime. Her heart races with the idea of finally be among her own people. Her people. What a change would it be! 

While the sun gently sinks on the horizon, its golden rays set the sky ablaze; the blue welcoming all shades of orange and red. 

The first star appears, and dusk announces the time of joyful songs, chatter and games. Bottles of the strong orcish ale are passed from hand to hand, while the sound of seagulls is replaced by extraordinary tales, laughter and music.   

The party of adventures eagerly joined the crew, except for Tyril, who does not seem to share the same enthusiasm or friendliness. The elf managed to keep himself the further away from the buzz without jumping ship. After days spent at the sea without a moment of quiet solitude, she supposes he’s reached some personal limit. 

While Threep was gnawing the third fish on a stick, Nia smiled listening to all sorts of anecdotes and jokes, blushing at the obscenities spilling from the sailors’ mouths and Mal’s as well. The man is not intimidated by the orcs towering over him and sat at the improvised table for a game of cards.  

Mal winked at Arwen when she caught a glimpse of one card tucked into his shirt, and she stifled a chuckle at his audacity or sheer recklessness before returning the gesture. Their flirtation, she notices, assumes more and more an air of camaraderie. 

Her contemplation is halted when the bench squeals with Imtura’s weight. The orc slumps beside Arwen with a smirk, gulps the ale and offers the bottle to the elf. 

“Enjoying the sail, landrat?” 

“I’ll be fine as long as there are no storm and no more grobtars,” Arwen quips.  

The orc let’s out a loud guffaw and with a massive hand pats her shoulder. “Worry not! Just good weather ahead. And trust me, if those grobtars know what’s best for them, they’ll avoid the Wraith for a long long time...” 

Besides them, the alcohol blushed Nia’s cheeks, and loosen Mal’s tongue, who shares the most passionate narratives about his deeds and conquers, who involves a lot of flirting his way out of trouble. 

“What’s wrong with that elf friend of yours?” Imtura asks, tilting her head in his direction. “Afraid of the sea, is he?” 

Arwen shrugs, unsure if the orc is concerned about Tyril or annoyed by his aloofness like the rest of the crew seems to be.  

Listening to the exchange, Nia suggests someone should invite him to join them for a cards game and cast a not-so-subtle look at Arwen. She wonders if Nia noticed the fleeting glances exchanged between the two or assumes she’s got a better chance at talking him into accepting the offer for being an elf herself. Either way, she accepts the challenge.  

Without a word, she takes the bottle, stands up and unconsciously rake her fingertips through her windblown hair, combing it back in place as much as possible. 

The wooden floor creaks beneath her feet when she approaches him, who glances over his shoulder acknowledging her presence. 

Tucking stray locks of his long hair behind an ear, his gaze follows her attentively, and by his expression and the absence of a scowl, she chooses to believe her company is a welcomed one.  

Tipping the bottle of ale at him, he purses his lips and shakes his head.  

“My senses must be sharp.” 

“Imtura says we can expect nothing but good weather,” she replies leaning against the railing beside him, but keeping some respectful distance. 

“The sea is untrustworthy,” Tyril confides.  

There’s bitterness when the elf utters the last word that is not missed by her keen senses. After the past days of companionship and fighting side by side, she hoped his opinion of the party would have changed for the better. Or mostly, his opinion of her.  

“Is it only the sea you do not trust?” she asks and grimaces after gulping the strong ale. 

Mulling at her words, he fixed his gaze at the starry sky. 

“Have you ever seen a swordsmith working?” 

Even though it was an unusual question, Arwen confirmed she had seen many times the blacksmith at Riverbend forging all sorts of objects. Closing her eyes, she could almost feel the heat in the air and hear the clang of metal on metal. 

“The craftmanship requires not only strength, but mostly diligence and a great dose of patience. The swordsmith cannot hurry the process otherwise the blade might flake and shatter… Trust, I’ve learnt, must be forged like a sword. And one cannot be certain it is perfected and will withstand until it’s drawn and tested. Peace is not a good test for a sword, like a smooth sea does not make a skilful sailor,” he concluded in his grave tone without meeting her eyes. 

“Trust, friendship and loyalty, I believe, can be forged by different and unexpected means.”  

Her statement is met by a quizzical stare that lingers far too long to be ignored.  

“You think I am naïve.” Her words break the heavy silence that fell upon them. 

Something crosses Tyril’s face, and he shakes his head to deny her assumption.  

“I do not, but...”  

There’s a long pause and she struggles to not fill the silence.  

His gaze flicks from her face to the infinite dark sea surrounding them, and she almost expects him not to complete the sentence. But he speaks again and when he does, his words are drowning in sorrow. “If you freely offer your trust to the undeserving of such gift, they’ll take it for granted and won’t hesitate before stabbing your back...” 

His body has become so rigid with tension that if not for his long raven strands blown by the salty breeze one could mistake him with a statue. While he stares at the sky, she wonders which kind of betrayal stole his faith in others. 

“What do you suggest then? Should I mistrust everyone including yourself?”  

Her questioning sound a lot like teasing, which partly is her intention to try and light the mood. However, judging by the seriousness of his expression contemplating the sky as if the answer could be hidden among the stars, he considers it worthy of a genuine answer. 

“Trust no one outside your house.” He pauses and his gaze turns away from the sky to meet hers. “I learned it from my father once I was old enough to stand on my own feet. Your house and your blood – those are the sole things that matter and upon which you can rely on...” His face remains impassive, but his voice wavers with emotion and she struggles to control the urge to reach for his hand. “I suggest you consider the advice from someone who’s seen what happens if one loses sight of that...” 

Sipping the ale, she cast a longing glance at the sea and thinks of her life at the nurturing community of Riverbend. Such a long way from where they are now! Her thoughts return to Kade, her only family. His blood is not her blood, but her fate and his are the same. They were united to share the kind of sincere love that would take either of them to the ends of the earth to save the other, just like she is doing now. 

“Not some advice easily taken...” she mutters the words hoping they’d disappear into the throat of the bottle. “Not when you’re twice orphaned....”

His eyes widened for the briefest moment, a glimpse of sorrow crossing them, before he uttered an attempt to apologise in what she assumes is part of Undermount’s fine etiquette.  

“It was a long time ago...” she dismisses with a forced smile, despite the hollow in her chest that aches more frequently than she would let anyone suspect. “With no house to have my back... I guess my experience and perspective on the matter might be a little different from yours...”  

He nods, and his gaze contemplates her face until he averts his eyes. “I suppose.”  

She releases a breath, thankful he does not press on.  

When she looks back at him, Tyril’s chin tilted up, exposing his elegant long neck, and his gaze is fixed on the stars again.  

Maybe he’ll speak of the constellations, she hopes; maybe he’s lost in thoughts that are not meant to be shared with her, which would be less desirable. Her heart aches, fearing to have this moment abbreviated. 

Arwen takes another swig at the ale, building the courage to bring another topic and encourage him to maybe speak more of himself. She doesn’t exactly know why, but she craves to learn more... Probably because he’s an elf and holds the knowledge she so long desired; or maybe that’s just what she keeps telling herself to not think about the other reason for her eagerness... 

She licks her lips, and a warm smile curls them.   

“May I ask you a question?”  

His long black hair sways when his head turns, and his eyes return to her face. It’s difficult to determine if it’s the sight of him and his piercing eyes or the sea that makes her sway gently. 

“Are you a poet, Lord Tyril of Undermount?” 

“Excuse me?”  

“A poet,” the words slowly roll from her tongue.  

“You mock me?” he scowls, and she stifles a giggle. 

His face is always ready to respond with indignation, as if expecting to always meet the worst in those around him. It’s amusing, but also makes her wonder the depths of the loneliness this mindset brings. The frown is back, and she'd like to erase it with a kiss, right between his eyebrows, to help erase whatever poisons his mind.   

“Mock you? Absolutely not,” she stresses the negative word and heaves her hands in theatrical surrender, unable to supress the grin parting her lips. “I’d never dare mock someone who could slice me in half like butter and not break a sweat!” And look like a gorgeous angel of death while doing so...  

“I’d never draw my sword against you!” his response is quick and apparently more truthful than he intended.

The butterflies on her stomach almost flee through her mouth, taking her voice away with them, but she whispers, “You wouldn’t?”

He coughs and covers his mouth.  

“Don’t be absurd!” he scoffs. “Everyone knows that is not the appropriate punishment for mockery and slander according to the elven code!” 

“Oh, right,” she utters with sheer disappointment. 

The graveness of his expression gives way to the slightest twitch of his lips, and that’s when she sees it: the small, almost imperceptible smile, and the glint of mischief in his eyes.  

She gasps, “Was that... a joke?” 

“Everybody knows I do not joke about such matters. Or any matter at all.” His face is still quite serious, but his voice not so much. It wavers as if he's struggling to contain the laughter bubbling inside. What would it take for him to let it out? “Beware, if you sustain those false accusations, you might face time in the dungeon...”

“Oh! We don’t want that, do we?” she teases.

The amusement reaches the corners of his eyes. 

“Wow! You cracked a joke and evaded the question... I’m impressed, Tyril!” 

“Ludicrous allegations are not worthy a rebuttal,” he finally says, his words coated by a lilt of a laugh and his lips slightly curled at the corners. But it isn’t enough. She needs to see him smiling, unabashedly baring his teeth, cackling with her... so relaxed that his beautiful blue skin would be freed of the soft lines marking the area in between his eyebrows.

“Too late! I already have evidence.”

“Evidence?” he echoes.

Grinning, Arwen moves a little closer, tilting her chin up to meet his gaze.

“The sword was a good metaphor. Fits a trained warrior like yourself, but hints you got the heart of a poet hidden in there…” She points at his chest, and his eyes narrow, but not in a menacingly way; there’s a hint of amazement at the gesture. When one of her fingertips lightly touches the armour over his heart, Tyril visibly swallows, despite not drinking anything. 

A teasing smile plays on her lips, appreciating the way his cheeks have darkened again, tinting themselves in that lovely shade of lavender she’s fascinated with. Would his cheeks be soft and warm against her fingers? 

“And since you did not deny my assumption, from now on, I’ll be picturing you writing poetry late at night, pen in hand, eyes squinted in concentration... Warrior by day, poet by night...” 

He takes a deep breath and a step away from her, then sharp words fly from his tongue, “How could I make time for poetry when the Shadow Court is spreading their corruption in these lands? Endangering the entire world? I could never waste precious time with such frivolity!” 

“Can’t you do both?” Her lips roll inside her mouth, and she moistens them, giving them both time to contemplate the idea. “Can’t you allow yourself to be overwhelmed by the beauty in the world, love and whatever else moves you... without losing sight of your quest? I believe it can be a motivating force to achieve greater things...” 

“You assume much about myself, including that I would have any talent for poetry...” 

“I’m certain you do, and I envy you.”  

A wistful smile curls her lips when she remembers the first time she saw the sea at Port Parnassus, the way her heart filled with so much joy and craved to have Kade’s talents and compose a song to immortalize that feeling, to share it with him once they are reunited.  

“When I first saw the sea, I was just...Wow!” She waved her hands to try and convey all that excitment. “My first thought when my brain stopped screeching was 'Gods, I wish Kade was here!'” She takes a deep breath, and leans forward, letting both her elbows rest on the railing, the bottle held close against to her chest. “If he were there, he'd have the perfect words... and five minutes later he'd pop a new song and just capture that moment... you know? But he was not there... I was and it seemed like a waste of prettiness... What will I tell him?” She shrugged. “The sea was huge... and blue... and... I don’t do metaphors! And I'm physically uncapable of rhyming!” 

“Maybe you underestimate your capabilities...” he said softly when she stopped rambling.

The bottle almost plummeted into the dark waters, and she took it to her lips once more, before speaking again.

“Kade is the storyteller, the singer... My talent with words is from an entirely different nature.” She winked at him to make sure he understood what she meant by that, and he looked away, which usually is not what happen when she does that with her charming smile.

“Hey! Kit, are you and Elf boy coming over or what?” Mal question rings in the air and she’s reminded of what she came to do in the first place.  

“Would you like to join us? We’re playing cards, sharing tales…” 

A mere glance at the groups, and the crease between his eyebrows returns and looks even deeper than before.  

She risks a pat on his arm, and says softly, “The swordsmith needs something to work on...”  

Tyril’s eyes flick to her face, and his reluctance slowly vanishes. With a nod, he accepts the suggestion and follows her towards the improvised table. 

“Oh, look!” Nia cries, “How fortunate! Mal was about to tell us of the encounter with Duke Erthax!” 

“Listen closely, elf boy, you can learn a thing or two!” 

Tyril halts and Arwen looks over her shoulder.  

“Does your party really requires a thief?”  

“We’ve been through this,” she huffs amused, “you cannot throw Mal overboard.” 

The elf sighs.  

“May I?” Tyril asks, pointing at the bottle, and she hands it. The elf coughs loudly after taking a swig not anticipating the pungent taste, drawing the attention of the group who failed at pretending not to pay attention at the two of them. 

“It’ll get better.” She pats his arm lightly. 

“The taste?” he snorts. “I certainly doubt!” 

“Everything.” She winks and receives the bottle from Tyril’s hand.  

When he crosses the last steps and takes a seat with the others, she smiles to herself, celebrating this small victory, anticipating the others certainly to come. 

[dynamitebrokers]

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[zhongrin]

i store the memories of you in a locked box

◇ characters ◇ zhongli, xiao, kazuha, al haitham

◇ tags ◇ word vomit, very abstract

◇ a/n ◇ literally me keeping a note and just jotting down what reminded me of them.

𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 ⬙ 𝑡𝑎𝑔𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡

reading books with rain pitter-pattering outside. hand kisses before you leave the house. petrichor and licorice. stopping by to listen to an erhu performance on a bustling subway station. the soft tinkling of gemstones against each other. clean pressed laundry. glittering topaz. a beautiful bird’s feather. a crowded cafe and yet nobody exists but you two as you give each other your undivided attention. freshly brewed osmathus tea. “dearest, i ran you a bath.”. waking up at dawn. low humming of an old nostalgic song. the sound of liquid trickling into a teacup. gold and amber. golden rings. reading glasses. the slow taps of fingertip against a desk. comfy leather armchairs. long strolls along the night beach. relaxed walk within the city in daytime. a lover’s embrace. walking arm-in-arm. gentle hand tucking stray hair to its rightful place. low chuckles. controlled, amused laughter hidden behind gloved hand. ‘disappointed but not surprised’ stare. polished shoes and immaculately pressed suits. hidden tattoos. sincere and straightforward declaration of love. “thank you for coming into my life.”

forehead kisses. the howling wind in a thunderstorm. the chilling breeze after the rain. bright moon in the starless night sky. the smell of hair dye. the sound of flute in the distance. the tick-tocks of an analog watch. cracked and imperfect jades. two sides of the same coin. “how are you this cute?”. exasperated sighs. amused chuckles. the embarrassment that hits after a particularly unexpected snort. dark undereye circles. sleeping until noon. taking catnaps throughout the day. forgetting to eat for 8 hours. watching over each other. silent footsteps around the house. piggyback carries. fuzzy blankets. pretending to not notice the other is crying and lending a shoulder to cry. the slowly rising steam of a hot drink. restless nights. lazy mornings. lazy afternoons. when it’s sunny out but cool inside as the sunlight filters in through the glass onto the spot you’re cuddling on. secretly exchanged looks. jade bracelets. field of flowers. “you are my sun.”

morning breeze coming in through the open window. the orange hue of sunset. whistling a tune. raspy good mornings. a stretch of a grassy field. jasmine flowers. soft laughs. falling asleep against each other on airport lounges. subtly exchanged knowing glances and smiles. the sound of paper turning. kissing each other’s scars. temple kisses. a relaxing bubble bath. making your own bath bombs. aimless strolls. hiking the small hill behind your house. camping. forest. stargazing. fingers intertwined around each other. well-used and tattered sneakers. “will you grant this humble servant the honor of escorting you, my liege?”. surprise kisses. soft lips on the back of your palms. packing a suitcase. spontaneous adventures. the smell of a new city. the art of reading analog maps. drunken confessions. finding new selfies of each other on your phones. beachside walks. “in you, i found my home.”

smell of parchment. yellowed pages of a book. dewdrops. “i’m glad we ran into each other.” quill pen against paper. morning sun touching the blades of swaying grass. warmth of fire against the cool night air. the various textures of leaves. black coffee. coffee stains. aromatic spices. crisp colognes. ocean breeze. the glint of a blade. sound of water rippling. hidden ravines and waterfalls. muffled music through headphones. reading books while holding hands. reading the same book while cuddling. wordlessly flipping to the next page because you know he’s finished reading. relaxed sighs. exasperated sighs. tree branches crunching under your feet. piggyback rides. forehead flicks. a steadily growing collection of plants. silently watching cityscape at night. sound of campfire. “you’re a book i never want to finish reading.”

© zhongrin | 2022 ◆ no repost. reblogs much appreciated. feel free to reach out to submit suggestions, feedback, comments, or if you just want to talk!

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