#Bronze Flower earrings

[sparkledlotus]

★Pretty handmade vintage style earrings featuring Czech glass beads w/black & bronze inlay flower seed pods & amethyst butterflies w/rhinestones in an antiqued brass finish. Earrings are completely designed by me & all beads are hand wire wrapped w/extra care & attention to detail★

You can find this in my shop here:

https://sparkledlotus.etsy.com/listing/1691262046

Thanks for looking!

•~♡~•Tracey•~♡~•

🪷•°Sparkled Lotus°•🪷

#etsyhandmade #etsygifts #etsysale #etsysmallbusiness #artists on etsy #etsyshop #etsyuk #etsystore #etsyfinds #etsyseller #etsy #handcraftedearrings #handmadeearrings #handmadegifts #handmadejewelry #handmade #handcrafted #beadedearrings #flower earrings #butterfly #butterflies #flowers #flower #butterfly earrings #vintage #antique #brass #bronze #gifts #giftsforher

[reinaaleera]

For BeGenerous 2023.

#jewelry #cabochon #green #bronze #earrings #natural stone #flower #labradorite

[mechanisedbrainrot]

MECHANISMS REF IMAGE MASTERPOST

Okay, so I put together refs for each of the mechs as best I can. I tried to avoid anything in a show lighting, but sometimes it can't be helped. Notes will be underneath each section

Whole cast

Ivy is the only character leaning on the wall in the second image, but is roughly as tall as Ashes

Jonny D'Ville

Jonny in earlier shows like TTBT wears a black shirt underneath instead of the white. He occasionally has red or black painted nails and his goggles are either black or bronze. He has a black 7 of diamonds. He often holds a mic - which is a Shure Super 55

Drumbot Brian

He usually has just the flower in his hat, but sometimes it's replaced with RAM or his drumsticks. His goggle has a very small crack at the base. The rings seem to be a bit of a motherboard and screws? The visible heart is something I can only find in one picture, but it's cool

Gunpowder Tim

Sometimes wears jeans instead of dark brown trousers. His eye scars are more geometric than Jonny's, and he has dark eye shadow around the eyes where Jonny uses just eyeliner

Raphaella la Cognizi

The top is three layers: a white/cream shirt, a brown puffy shirt and a a top layer which has a halter neck. Occasionally one or both of the undershirts won't be worn (see HNOC liveshow). Tights can be blue or black. Light up wings from DTTM

The leggings/tights are sometimes black and sometimes deep blue

Ivy Alexandria

A few different outfits, in liveshows they're also wearing some outfits not shown here - but always black and red with a waistcoat of some kind.

Nastya Rasputina

The necklace is a little cat :3

Marius von Raum

Kneepads in DTTM. The cards are a jack and ace of hearts. Necktie either has a white or gold pattern on it, but they don't always wear it. The green jacket has a tailcoat

The Toy Soldier

Hair varies a lot. Sometimes it's worn down, in a ponytail or hidden under the hat. Sometimes nails are painted red or black

Ashes O'Reilly

In live shows they often wear this eyeliner which has thick bars that go behind the ears - but I couldn't find any clear pictures of this. Though their outfits changes, always mostly black with some red in the hair

Dr Carmilla post can be found here

I hope this was in some way helpful to anyone who wants to draw the mechanisms. If you have questions feel free to ask me in the ask box and I will do my best to answer them and provide some photos <3 have a great day

#the mechanisms #mechanisms #mechs #the mechanisms band #jonny d'ville #gunpowder tim #drumbot brian #marius von raum #the toy soldier #ivy alexandria #nastya rasputina #raphaella la cognizi #mechanisms reference #mechanisms art reference

[shiny-jr]

✦ damnation [ the vizier's vassal ]

– Summary: When you commit a crime, you receive a punishment. This is especially true in your society. No matter the crime, your punishment is the same: banishment. But to where you will be sent in exile and how miserable will it be? No one knows, because no one has ever returned.

– Warning: Yes, this is a yandere thing. Gender-neutral reader.

– Characters: Kalim Al-Asim, Jamil Viper.

– Note: Please enjoy this post! Hopefully everything is okay, since I just copy and pasted from the quiz and skimmed.

– Pages: 42

– Not satisfied? Try looking here for the quiz to take it yourself and see where you end up banished!

The Diviner   |   The Vizier's Vassal   |   The Raven Retainer

Feathers. Colorful feathers tickled your nose. A woven shawl sat on your shoulders with vibrant colors and macaw feathers along the clip that held it in place above your collarbone. As your vision readjusted to the scenery, you could make out an old desert city stretching out as far as the eye could see, until it met over the horizon with the starry night sky. It was nothing like the court you were in moments ago. Instantly everything came flashing back to you, the trial, the judges, your punishment. This was your punishment. “Holy shit.” 

“Is something wrong?” 

You looked to the side, surprised to see a servant placing a tray beside you. You were on a balcony, a beautiful grand spacious terrace where the arches were decorated with ivy and walls of flowers while pillars of flames provided light and there was a large water fountain in the center. You were laying on the edge of that fountain, when you pushed yourself up and looked around. That’s when you noticed your clothes had changed too. Somehow your simple change of clothes from before had become easy-to-move-in loose trousers and a simple tunic, but with the colorful shawl over your shoulders that resembled wings. “What? What the hell?” 

“Is there something wrong with the food?” 

Food? You looked down at the tray the servant had brought, surprised to see a plate of kofta with a chalice of water. The delicious smell wafted in the air, making your mouth water and stomach grumble. How long has it been since you ate? Probably well before you were arrested. If you got food, you were expecting cold slop, not this scrumptious meal that was cooked to perfection. Instantly you snatched it up, assuring the servant, “No, no, forget it! This is fine, uh, thanks…!” 

“Very well.” They bowed their head to you, “Please, enjoy the meal, vassal.” 

Vassal? You stopped mid-bite, about to ask them about it and where you were, but they had already taken off. Well, you weren’t complaining. You had thought you were going to die, or end up in some horrible hell. This place was actually quite nice. You could feel the breeze of the cool desert air and smell the flora growing on this terrace, you heard the city below with the crackling of fire from the pillars and the running water beside you, not to mention you were eating the best food you ever tasted! If this was hell, then being banished might be the best thing that’s ever happened to you! 

“You! Jamil’s vassal!” 

There it was again. What the hell did they mean by vassal? Your cheeks were stuffed with food you had shoveled into your mouth, as you slowly and awkwardly turned around to face whoever called you. Who was Jamil? You had no idea. A little annoyed that your dinner was interrupted, you eyed the approaching stranger up and down before swallowing your food and muttering, “What do you want?”

Appearing offended at your response, the young man stomped up to you, closer so you could see him better in the dim lighting. He looks a little young, if you had to guess, you’d say the guy was no younger than eighteen. Sharp blue eyes and long thick black hair styled into a single braid, not to mention he wasn’t smiling. This was no servant judging by the expensive looking blue garbs he wore and the gold on his bronze ears that complimented his handsome face. It had to be someone of high standing. When he was right in front of you, he frowned down at you and placed his hands on his hips, “Where is Jamil? And where is my cousin?” 

You lowered your plate of food, squinting incredulously at this stranger. Who did he think he was? Jamil? Cousin? “Your cousin…? Jamil…? How should I know?” 

“You should know. As the vizier’s only vassal, you should know where Jamil is. That is your job, to serve him. Or is he slithering about in places he shouldn’t be?” As his blue eyes bore down at you, he continued his tirade, “You haven’t bowed your head or greeted me as everyone does, by saying, good day, Prince Jaseer. And you’re here slacking off while everyone else in the palace is dutifully working.” 

“I’m on a lunch break.” You mumbled in reply, tempted to snap. Wait… had he said prince…? A beautiful royal in blue wearing gold, with long black hair, who is spirited and no-nonsense, like a princess in a fantasy tale. A princess that lived in a palace just like this one, where there was a vizier and sultan–– oh fuck. How was that possible? This was like a stupid kid’s story you heard all the time! Before you could ponder on the topic, you were reminded of who was in front of you by him cleaning his throat. You immediately bowed your head sloppily, begrudgingly, as you recited the words he wanted to hear. “Good day, Prince Jaseer…” 

At your less-than-satisfactory response, he crossed his arms over his chest and replied still with that frown, “If you can’t answer my question, then there’s no use talking to you. I’ll find someone who can tell me where my cousin and Jamil are. Let it be known, I have my eye on you and your master. My cousin may be fond of you both, but I am not.” 

When you slowly lifted your head, you watched the prince storm away, likely to go find his cousin, whoever that was, and the vizier, this Jamil guy. As soon as he turned a corner, you scrunched your nose and scoffed, “Brat.” 

Wait… that meant this was a story. It was all too similar to a story that began much like: it begins on a dark night, where a dark man waits with a dark purpose. If this was that story then what were you…? Apparently working for the vizier, wearing a shawl of rainbows, and feathers… oh my god, you were the fucking parrot. As you resumed your eating you busied your mind with processing these thoughts. “At least the tax collector can’t find me here.”

All you knew was that you were in the role of his parrot, his pet. What a stupid role to end up in! In this version you hoped you were at least some sort of glorified servant! At least you weren’t dead, this was much better than that. You knew the tale of Aladdin by heart, it was a very popular story growing up. You had even envied the protagonist, a thief, for ending up with a genie and winning the love of the princess. Turns out that princess, or prince in this case, was not all that. Well, they always say to never meet your heroes. But, there was one thing that was bound to be great, no matter how much this story would change. The magic lamp that held the genie. You wanted it. Maybe if you stuck around this vizier long enough, you could take it for yourself whenever the opportunity presented itself. You had the advantage, you knew exactly what was going to happen. That genie could grant any of your wishes! It could take you home if you wanted. You could make all those judges rue the day they banished you! You could rule this world and yours! You could bathe in an endless amount of gold and cash! The possibilities were endless! 

As you finished your meal, another figure came into view. The figure of a guard, like the ones you’ve been watching patrol and march around, approached you nervously. Only when he noticed you glance at him and nod your head, did he begin speaking, “G-Good evening, vassal. The candidates, they’re ready for the vizier, he’ll be here any moment. You are the only one he trusts, everyone knows this, won’t you put in a kind word for me? I fear he’s in a foul mood, his venture to the cave in the desert didn’t end well again.” 

Candidates? Vizier? Cave in the desert? After a few seconds of the guard waiting in anticipation, you were able to connect the dots. This must’ve been a specific rendition of the story where the vizier found the Cave of Wonders in the desert but instead of using a magic machine he created to find the diamond in the rough that could enter the cave, he used his power behind the scenes and in the dark to search through prisoners and criminals and send those he thought might be worthy to die trying to enter the mystic cave. This vizier, Jamil, would no doubt be growing frustrated since he’s likely been keeping at this for so long without finding a single person that can successfully enter the cave. Jumping off your seat on the fountain after finishing your last bite of food, you looked over to the guard and smiled, “Alright, let’s go. We can’t leave the master waiting, can we?”

“Of course! Allow me to lead the way.” So you followed the meek little guard, and as you trailed after him you thought about what would happen and what would you do. The guard had said that it was a fact that the vizier trusted only you, or rather, the person who you’ve replaced. The prince didn’t notice you were not the vassal, and neither did this guard or any of the other servants, so it was likely that no one would notice unless you slipped up, not even the Vizier Jamil. Hopefully. 

You watched as the pristine halls of the palace became dark and dim the deeper you went. As the smooth walls became rugged stone lit only by lamps of fire, and the lush green plants and overpriced furniture and decorations became absent. There were also, noticeably, less people. It felt like you and the guard were the only ones as you followed them deeper into what you guessed was a dungeon where you heard chains rattling and the echoing screams of those held captive. Before you could enter the room, the guard turned to you and pleaded, 

“Please, stay here. I’m sure seeing you will give the vizier a bit of peace. He should be here any second now. I will go ahead and be sure everything is in order.” 

Before you could even protest, the guard scurried ahead to the end of the hall and not too long after, you detected footfall behind you. When you turned around, you saw what you presumed had to be the Vizier Jamil. The vizier looked sort of imposing as he appeared from the dimly lit halls, and with the flames on the wall you could just make out his appearance. A thin figure clothed in red and black robes decorated with gold, holding a golden staff that ended in the shape of a cobra’s head. Long thin hair as black as night coiled down his brown shoulders like snakes in multiple small braids and loose strands decorated with gold, and instantly his sharp gray eyes painted with eyeshadow darted over to you upon noticing your staring. He looked irked, but since you supposedly had a good relationship with him, maybe you could poke and prod without worrying about suffering any consequences. From what you recalled, the vizier’s parrot in the tales was a loud-mouthed creature with a bad temper. 

“Welcome back, oh great vizier. So, how did it go?” 

“Not a word.” The vizier hissed, sending you a glare. Yet it wasn’t threatening, it felt more… annoyed. Like when your friend was pestering you, except without the light-heartedness. At least he didn’t snap, he did have the power to command you to be put to death. Yet all he did was give you a look before his frown instantly morphed into a stoic expression in the blink of an eye, so fast that it sent you reeling.

Jamil wasted no time in walking forward, not bothering with greetings as he entered the first room of the dungeon that was dingy and dirty. Inside was the guard from before, nervously standing off to the side just across from a line of prisoners in shackles with their heads hanging low, and more guards behind them. These prisoners reminded you of yourself, but less. Now you’re free of any shackles, you’re wearing fine clothes and eating food made by the best chefs while living in the luxurious palace. To avoid being at the center of attention, you stood off to the side, leaning against a corner. Listening in could give more insight.

You watched intently, curiously, as Jamil approached the line of prisoners, scanning them all with those sharp eyes as he walked by them slowly. The men and women in rags and chains tensed when he stepped near, but kept their eyes glued to the ground. Whether it was out of respect or fear, you weren’t sure, but you watched as some of them squirmed in place or nervously glanced at him. After a minute of going down the line of a dozen or so prisoners, he stopped in his tracks and turned to face the guard who guided you. On his face was obvious disappointment. 

“You bring me the rough, but never a diamond.” That cold stare of his remained on the anxious guard, never looking away even as he commanded the others, “Take them away.” 

You purse your lips and shake your head, watching as the other guards forcefully dragged the prisoners down another hall, to a fate unknown. Poor suckers. You could hear them pleading, begging the vizier for mercy from whatever end they knew awaited them. In one rendition of the story, when the princess snuck out of the palace and gave apples to poor children, apples she had no money on her to pay for, she nearly lost her hand as punishment. It was likely that these prisoners were about to lose much more than a single hand.

The meek guard sent you a pleading look as they whispered frantically, “You said you would put in a kind word for me…!” 

Turning your attention to them, you scoffed, “I never said that. I said I would follow you.” 

“You…!” At your shrug, he directed his sights towards the vizier who was walking away, his back toward him as he seemed to be prepared to follow the guards and prisoners going elsewhere within the dungeon. “Please, my vizier.” The vizier stopped, and the words were caught in the guard’s throat until he finally forced them out with wavering uncertainty, making it sound more like a question than a statement. “... Perhaps this diamond in the rough does not exist…?” 

For a moment he paused but didn’t turn around, and quietly replied, “They’re out there.” A response with unwavering certainty. 

“But we’ve searched for months!” It appears that the guard was showing signs of frustration as well. Who knows how many prisoners they’ve interrogated and how many criminals they’ve captured in these months, all in an attempt to satisfy the vizier’s wish of finding a diamond in the rough. “I do not understand what could possibly be in that cave that could help a… a man as great as you. You are already second only to the sultan!”

“Second? Uh-oh.” You exclaimed, bracing yourself for what was to come and ignoring the guard’s growing irritation towards you. In the tale, yes the vizier worked for the sultan, he was the sultan’s most trusted advisor. But, behind the vizier’s facade of charm and loyalty, there was only a burning hate for the sultan who believed in him. The vizier wished to be the most powerful man in the kingdom, second to no one. So to be told he was second, straight to his face, would be like a slap. You watched as Jamil turned to the guard with a deep frown, and you could only whistle, “Who’s in trouble now~?” 

Jamil turned to face him fully, staring at the guard beneath him with such a disdainful gaze before questioning firmly, “Do you believe second is enough?”

Without hesitation, they nodded, the answer to them was obvious. “Yes. You were not born to be sultan, you are not of royal lineage. His Majesty, Kalim Al-Asim, was born to be sultan.” 

Kalim Al-Asim. So that was the sultan’s name. The mere mention of him was enough to tick off the vizier. He narrowed his eyes and began to speak in a quiet murmur, “Do you know that I’ve served him my entire life? From the day I was born, they dictated that I was a servant to him and they chained my entire existence so it depended on him.” Slowly he stepped forward, inching closer with every word he spat like venom. “You have no idea of the things I’ve been forced to do for him. The sacrifices I’ve made and blood that’s stained my hands, the bodies I’ve buried and times I’ve watched him be praised for his minimal efforts I can easily best.” The closer he got, the more frightened the guard appeared until he was right in front of them. “Everyone will one day learn that I am not worthy of a mere second place, I am supposed to be first. That’s why I need the lamp, and I no longer need you––!” 

Right before your eyes, you watched as Jamil swiftly struck him with the bottom of his staff and he fell backwards into a well. A seemingly bottomless well, because you heard his scream growing distant until an unsettling silence lingered. You covered your mouth in shock, but Jamil paid you no mind. It’s as if he’s done a dozen times before, as if you had witnessed all of them before. 

After a moment, he sighed and lowered his staff, regaining his composure to cover up for the anger that slipped through in that moment. Again, in a flash, he had a stoic expression as he turned to gaze at you in the corner, when he beckoned you closer with a motion of his finger. “Come here, my vassal. It’s time for a meeting with that irritating sultan.” 

Now you were on your way to meet the sultan. Kalim. You hoped he wasn’t anything like Jamil. This vizier was to be feared, but at least he didn’t seem to mind you. So you probably won’t be pushed down a well anytime soon. As you followed him when he began walking, he questioned abruptly, 

“What did you do while I was gone?” 

This wasn’t good. You weren’t here for that long before he returned, and you got the feeling that Jamil was a particularly observant fellow judging by how he glanced at you from the corner of his eyes. “That royal brat confronted me while I was eating. They’re so annoying.” 

“Ah, Prince Jaseer?” Slowly he nodded, as if agreeing with your words. Phew. You were doing alright, fitting the role just fine it seemed. “Annoying would be putting it lightly. He’s just another entitled royal born with a golden spoon in his mouth, an ignorant person who knows nothing of how the real world works.” 

“You’re telling me. The guy made me bow and recite a greeting like I was nothing but a pleb beneath him! Then he had the gall to say I was lazy! I was eating! Can’t a person like me eat in peace once in a while? I was starving!” 

By now you were in a better part of the palace, where you were once again surrounded by riches. Upon hearing your response, Jamil replied without hesitation, “You are lazy when I’m not around.” At his remark, you stared at him incredulously as he continued with zero reservations, “You are uncaring, murderous, deceitful, aggressive, cunning, and annoying.” 

Unable to help it, you snapped back in reply, beginning to rant and list off your fingers. “ME? Look in the mirror bud, you just basically described yourself! You’re cruel, immoral, narcissistic, power-hungry, sadistic, and secretly deranged! You're a two-faced, snake!” When you looked over to him, he still had that stoic expression but he rolled his eyes. Your jaw dropped. There was no way he just fucking–– 

“You used that insult, two-faced snake, two weeks ago.” Before you could add anything more to the growing pile of insults, he lightly tapped your forehead with the cobra head of his golden staff, appearing unbothered. “Come up with something else or get on my level, then you can talk back. For now, be quiet. We’re nearing where Kalim wanted to meet us. I don’t need to remind you to be on your best behavior around the sultan.” 

Rubbing your forehead, you glared at him and mumbled, “Oh, I’ll come up with something shocking, you sorry sack of––ACK!” You coughed, bending over in pain as he quickly jabbed the end of his staff against your stomach to shut you up just before a silk curtain separating the halls from a room opened up. 

��Jamil! Oh, and your vassal too! I’m so happy to see you guys! You’re just the ones I wanted to see!” 

You had to squint just to look past the stranger’s bright beaming smile. It was a young man, just a bit shorter than Jamil, yet he was dressed in finer garbs than the vizier. The bright pearly-white smile matched some of his odd white strands of hair that poked out past the silk cloth messily tied around his head, the turban he must’ve usually wore to show his high status was off to the side beside a model of the entire city. The energy in his red eyes was just as bright as his smile, but even brighter than that was the gleaming golden accessories glittering over his tawny brown complexion. Golden rings and jewels over his fingers, gold buttons stitched onto his silk clothes, even the tiniest patterns on those silk garbs looked shiny enough to be real gold. So much gold–– 

Jamil wore a charming devilish smile, but once this Kalim looked away for a second, he quickly slapped your hand as soon as you lifted it, sending you a warning glare, as if saying, do not touch. You glared right back, but as soon as Kalim returned his attention to the two of you again, he pleaded, “I could really use your help, Jamil! You’re the person I can trust the most!” 

“You have always placed your trust in me, and I’ve never failed to deliver.” He replied smoothly with a bow of his head. Damn, he was really good at lying. It was a teensy bit concerning. 

“It’s all this suitor thing with Jaseem!” Kalim exclaimed, beginning to lay down his worries, “You know I promised I would take care of my cousin before his parents passed, I promised them to help him find a wife when he got older. And now, well, he’s older! I don’t remember it being nearly this hard when I had to marry.” 

The vizier followed Kalim as he continued to rant and bemoan, stepping beside him as they stopped in front of various shelves of scrolls and books and tables of documents and knick-knacks. Meanwhile, you followed closely behind, reminding yourself not to input anything or risk gaining suspicion. Once Kalim was finished, only then did Jamil respond casually, “To be fair, your marriage didn’t last long due to… unfortunate circumstances. I’m afraid Prince Jaseer is different. He’s already met ten times the suitresses you ever did. Your standards are nowhere near as high as the prince’s.” 

“Pfft…” You slapped your hand over your mouth, going quiet as both Jamil and Kalim looked over at you. Fuck, you were in trouble now, weren’t you? 

Kalim blinked before joining in on the shameless laughter, lifting the mood substantially. “You’re right, I never had this problem. It honestly didn’t take a lot to impress me! Oh, have you eaten today? You should totally try these cheese and sauces on crackers! They’re my favorite snack right now! Here!” 

You held up your hands in defense, “Wait, a minute. Actually, maybe–– mmph!” You nearly choked as he abruptly stuffed a handful of the crunchy saltines in your mouth, and he placed his other hand to pat your back so you couldn’t step away. 

The sultan grinned as you were forced to swallow the food. That’s when he held up more, and urged, “It’s good, isn’t it? You should try more! Hey, you can even have dinner with me if you want! The more the merrier, right?” Before you could even input anything, Kalim shouted loud enough so the servants outside could hear him, “Keep the snacks coming! And make sure to have an extra seat for later! I’d like to eat dinner on the balcony tonight with Jamil’s vassal! Make sure to serve the best, most delicious dishes we have to offer!” 

“Hah, you have such a kindness that extends to everyone, don’t you, Kalim? Even to the dense little attendants.” 

You shot the vizier a glare at his not-so-subtle jab directed towards you. The only reason you didn’t say anything to his face was because you still had a mouthful of crackers that you could barely swallow without gagging. 

Clearing his throat, his soft laughter stopped as he resumed his professional attitude and he was back to business. “Now then, allow me to divine a solution to this pesky problem. As well as take care of… the work you often leave in my care. As per usual.” When you glanced at him, the moment Kalim spun on his heel to catch up with the slowly moving vizier is when you noticed the dark haired man’s annoyance that flashed for a second. “However, I will be needing access to the restricted area of the library, to look at the ancient texts of laws and such. You understand, don’t you?” 

“The restricted section? The one reserved only for me and other members of the royal family?” The young man tilted his head, appearing a bit apprehensive as he tapped his finger against his chin in thought. “I dunno, Jamil. Normally I’d let you, but I think that’s against the rules. There’s a lot of secrets hidden there.” 

“It’s necessary for us to continue.” Lifting his golden staff, he nonchalantly examined its enchanting ruby red eyes before his fingers slid across the smooth golden surface and he turned it so the cobra head was gazing right at the sultan. A slight sly smile grew on his face as he hummed, “Don’t worry, everything will be fine.” 

You watched with intrigued, both fascinated and horrified as he pressed the end of his staff against the ground and leaned the cobra head forwards, causing the sultan to stiffen up and go oddly silent. That’s when you realized it was happening. Jamil was using his powers to hypnotize and manipulate the sultan, just like in the stories. 

The sultan’s own red eyes mirrored the rubies of the staff, but quickly his smile dropped into a blank expression as held a staring contest with the cobra head. As if in a trance, he quietly repeated the words spoken to him. “––Everything will be fine…” 

That smile on his face grew to a smirk as the vizier repeated his request, “Permission to use the restricted area of the library?” 

“Yes, Jamil…” Kalim remained unblinking. His once bright eyes full of life were now… empty. It’s like they were covered with a mist. Slowly, robotically, he held up a blue diamond ring and spoke, “The key… Whatever you need will be fine.” 

Instantly he snatched it up, tucking the ring away safely within his robes as he thanked, “You are most gracious, my liege. Now, run along and have fun, enjoy your dinner. Hm?” 

“Yes…” 

With a swish of his cloak, Jamil began to walk away and you trailed behind him as Kalim stayed in the room, mindlessly gazing out the window. As soon as you were past the curtains and saw no one else present, Jamil’s professionalism dropped and he rolled his eyes, wearing an annoyed frown. You spat out the crackers you couldn’t swallow, it left crumbs in your mouth and salt that burned the roof of your mouth but at least now you were able to speak your mind a little more freely. “I can’t take it! If he tried to stuff one more cracker in my face, I’m was gonna––!” 

“Calm yourself, my vassal.” Jamil replied, his expression less refined and now just a resting bitch face. Turning to you, he stopped and instructed, “I will go scour that private area of the library to see what secrets it may hide. The key to our troubles may very well be hidden among those carefully guarded secrets. You will stay here.”

You gawked. “Me?”

“Yes, you.” Pressing a pointed finger against your shoulder, he continued his instructions, “Keep that halfwitted idiot busy, stay for dinner as he wants. Have a little tea party with him if it amuses him. Afterwards, I expect to see you back within my tower. I’d prefer you not stay around Kalim for longer than necessary, especially because his ignorance may rub off on you. Or has it already?” 

“Haha, yeah, sure, laugh it up. Very funny.” You scowled at his grin, watching as he turned to leave. “Have fun doing that lame boring reading! I’m gonna enjoy this time off eating until I can’t take another bite!” Once he was out of sight, you spat, “Jerk.” And promptly returned back inside beside the sultan. 

When you found him, he was still gazing out the window with those empty eyes. The hypnotic technique continued to last for a few seconds even after Jamil took his leave. However, thankfully, after waving your hand in front of his face and lightly slapping his cheeks, he was beginning to regain consciousness. “Hey, you! Kalim–– er… sultan, wake up.” 

Kalim blinked repetitively, the hazy mist in his gaze disappearing until his eyes were bright and red like polished rubies once again. As if awaking from a deep sleep, he groaned and pressed his cheek against your hand, not fully realizing what was happening until he blinked again and looked up at you. “What…? What happened? Ah, I’m sorry, I zoned out again…!” Despite realizing how close you two were, he made no effort to move. Was he that trusting or that stupid? “Where’s Jamil?” 

“He’s busy. Had to go back to work, uh… sultan.” You were a little upset that he’d leave you with this odd little ruler, but you couldn’t complain too much when you’d get to have your fill of food. 

“Ooooh, okay then! And please, you can just call me Kalim! Any friend of Jamil’s is a friend of mine.” He hummed, taking your hands as soon as you stepped away and lowered them away from his face. “I’m so happy to finally get to spend time with you! Jamil is always so hardworking and you are too! I mean, you’re always helping him, and he seems to trust you a lot and that’s saying something because he hardly trusts anyone! So I’ve never gotten to really talk this much to you until now! This is a little exciting, isn’t it? Come on!” Without warning, he began to tug you along, apparently forgetting the exchange from earlier. So he really didn’t remember that he had been hypnotized. As he dragged you along outside of the rooms and down the pristine extensive hallways, he continued, “I wanna know all about you! Our dinner should be ready by now! And what better way to get to know someone than over dinner? What kind of food do you like? What’s your favorite drink? Oh! And we can’t forget dessert!” 

Suddenly you were out on the balcony where you first gained consciousness, it was still dark out. It all happened so quickly, in a flash you were seated on a long plush chaise lounge draped with numerous pillows and blankets. In a rush, the servants came out, setting out tables and trays filled to the brim with food until you were surrounded by mounds of food that all smelled so delectable. Before you could even think of something to say, Kalim was already piling food on your plate, making it so high that it resembled a small mountain. 

“Eat as much as you want! Oh, try this! And this too! And you gotta have a little of this! Dinner is one of my favorite times of the day, because you get to relax with someone, whether it be family, a friend, or a complete stranger, and talk about anything!” 

There was so much on your plate that you almost struggled to peek over it just to see the face of the sultan. Yeah you wanted food, but this was too much even for you… As the young man explained what dish was what, you glanced behind your shoulder at the servants transporting trays and pitchers. Your eyes narrowed, but you pretended to pay attention to the sultan by nodding at whatever he said, as you watched out of the corner of your eye. One servant carrying another silver tray, leaned forward to place it on the table, while his other arm was folded at his midsection. His body had been covering your view of the pitcher, but once he stepped back and began to walk away, you noticed the liquid fizzing for a moment and became an odd color before the solution dissolved to blend in with the beverage. That substance he slipped into the drink… was he trying to poison the sultan?

Your eyes followed the servant as he turned on his heel and began to retreat towards the kitchen. Narrowing your gaze, you interrupted Kalim while he was going on about some story of him having dinner with other royals, when you blurted out, “Hey, you.” 

It went quiet, the sultan appeared confused and leaning over to get a better look at what you were glaring at while all the servants froze in their tracks. 

“Yeah, you with the stupid face and red sash. I’m talking to you. What the hell were you slipping in that drink? You sure have guts to be doing that in front of me. Either that or you're brain-dead.” 

Everyone tensed up at your implication, the guards nearby honing in on the servant with the red sash around their waist. Immediately they had them restrained, one of the head guards ripped off his sash to remove a suspicious vial with some liquid still left in it. Despite the servant’s panicked squirming in the hold of the soldiers, the head guard turned towards the sultan, holding up the vial and nodding in affirmation, “Your Majesty, it is poison…” 

“Again?” Kalim sighed somberly, slowly gripping onto your sleeve. 

Again? What the hell did he mean by again? How many times did this usually happen? As if on cue, the remaining servants rushed in to remove all the food that had been brought. Now, they would have to double check everything to make sure nothing else was poisoned. Without even being told, the armored men escorted away the frightened servant that had failed to harm the sultan. Instantly the area was cleared, save for extra guards further away but still close enough to watch. 

After a few seconds, the realization of something appeared to dawn on the sultan’s face as he gripped your sleeve tighter and peered up at you with wide sparkling red eyes. “You… You saved me! I knew it! You are trustworthy! Wait, what am I talking about? Of course you’re trustworthy, Jamil trusts you, but this just confirms it! I might’ve been poisoned if you hadn’t said anything! You are a good person, just like I thought! You see, I’m a great judge of character so I knew that you were good from the moment I met you!” 

You resisted the urge to laugh at his choice of words about you being a good person. At first you thought of letting it happen, but if the sultan were to die now, that would rush things along. Prince Jaseer would inherit the throne if he gets married quick enough, and then he would definitely get rid of you and Jamil. Then, you’d be poor and powerless on the streets, or worse, dead. So what did you do? Call out the servant, duh. “It’s nothing, really.” 

Shaking his head in refusal, he continued to insist, “But it is something! Don’t be so modest. Everyone should know of what you did for me tonight! The whole kingdom deserves to know! You deserve a reward! If you need anything, just say it, and it's yours! Anything at all!” 

You couldn’t help but scoff, rolling your eyes as a semi-amused smile appeared on your face, “Don’t say that, I’m going to make you regret it.” You’d definitely rob him blind if you could. He would be such an easy target too, like stealing candy from a baby, if he wasn’t always being watched by a troop of guards twenty-four-seven. 

For a moment he was quiet, his red eyes analyzing your smile with surprise before he broke out into the brightest beaming expression that nearly made you shriek from being blinded. “But I mean it! I really do!” As his hands gripped your arm a little tighter, he noticed your colorful shawl. Curious, he began to trace his fingers across the woven shapes, entranced by the colors as he murmured in awe, “Woah, I really like your shawl. The feathers are pretty, and I love the colors! I think I might want something styled like that.” 

He was actually… strangely casual for a guy that was nearly poisoned. Then again, maybe it was a common thing for him. He was the most powerful man in the entire kingdom. “You like it that much?” You watched as he quickly nodded, to which you plucked one of the five long red feathers beside the clip of the shawl. Its red faded into blue, with one edge even tinted with the tiniest bit of yellow and green. “It’s the only thing keeping me from freezing right now, so I can only give you this. That way you can show it to your tailors or stylists or whatever you rich people have, and they know what you want.” It was totally not to distract him and get the sultan off your back so he’d let go of your arm. 

Kalim’s eyes widened as he swiftly reached out and gingerly took the feather in his hands. Those eyes of his looked at the feather with wonder, as if it was worth more than rubies or gold. Turning his wonder-filled expression up at you, he looked so joyful as he leaned forward and spoke, “Thank you…! I love it!” Then, his expression flattened a bit to a more solemn look as he glanced down at the feather he held tightly and back to you. His voice got even quieter so as to not be heard by anyone that may be in the halls nearby. “Since I trust you… can I tell you a secret…?” 

You deadpanned, turning your attention away to the scenery. “No.” 

“Whew, okay, here it goes…” Focusing on the feather, he quickly forced out, “I’ve never gotten a gift like this before…! There. I said it!” 

In that moment you stopped to squint at him, not believing a word he said. “Wait a second, you’re kidding, right? I mean, you’re sultan. You live in a giant palace, you have countless servants and soldiers, your kingdom is one of the most powerful and prosperous! Don’t lie to me, I bet you have people lining up to give you gifts everyday! Gifts of gold, jewels, all that fancy expensive stuff!” 

“I’m not lying! All of that is true, but… this gift is special!” Kalim immediately replied, only gripping the feather tighter as he explained, “I think gifts given on the spot, out of the goodwill of your heart, are way more valuable. Yeah, I get a lot of gifts, and I’m thankful! But it’s not the same! I will treasure this feather because it’s from you, and your kindness!” Eventually his gaze traveled down to your shawl, he was shivering a bit from the cold desert winds. Looking back up at you, then your shawl, then you again, it’s as if he was trying to convey something. “I-It’s getting a little cold, aha… Can I…?” 

Frowning, you flopped back onto the soft cushions, your fingers gripping the very edges of the shawl. “This is the one thing that’s mine. No, you can’t have it.” 

“Haha, I wasn’t asking for it! Don’t worry, I’ll definitely be asking my tailors to make me one like yours so we can match! I meant I wanted to share it with you right now!” With zero hesitation, he flopped down beside you. He was close, so incredibly close, enough that you could feel his body warmth and he could probably feel yours. It did not help that when you tried to inch away, he took the initiative to snuggle closer, draping the ends of your shawl around himself as he continued to hold the feather you gifted him. 

When he was right up against you and gazed up at you with those bright eyes and always happy smile, you scowled and muttered, “What’s with you? You got a problem, princey?” 

Without missing a beat, he responded casually. “I’m not a prince, that would technically be my cousin! I’m a sultan! Although I was a prince before, but not anymore.” 

“That’s not what I–– nevermind.” You tried to ignore him for your own good. You couldn’t exactly get away with hurting the sultan, no matter how much you wanted to take a swing. Well, it wasn’t all bad was it? This meant you were on his good side, right? 

As you glanced back at him, you could feel him beside you. Shoulder-to-shoulder, as he gazed up at the stars, looking up at the endless night sky with twinkling eyes. “This is great! I rarely ever have company like this. I mean, I always have company but like–– company that I can just relax with, you know? Oh, look up there, at those stars––!” 

At this point you weren’t really focused on the sultan or what he was saying. Actually, you were focused on something just past him, past the stone curved ends of the balcony where you could see the rest of the city and part of the palace. That's when you made out a figure, like a small ant against the vast backdrop, running fast. They moved quickly, jumping over obstacles and climbing walls like an acrobat, as if it came natural to them, all while avoiding the lights of torches and staying in the shadows. They were dressed in rags too, like a peasant. Like… a thief. 

“––Anyways, that’s the story behind my favorite constellation! What about yours? Do you have a favorite?” 

“OH MY GOD––” Your eyes widened as the realization struck. The thief, they were the protagonist! The protagonist was making their move!

The sultan appeared startled at your sudden exclamation, but his shock quickly turned to a smile as he laughed, “Did you like the story that much? I like it too! Let me think of another one to tell you about!” 

Immediately pushing him away, you sat up and scrambled to get off the chair, “Welp, this is getting weird. And I have to go report back to Jamil! Damn, you know how it is, with work and all. You get it, don’t you? Yeah, of course you do!” Brushing yourself off, you bolted just as the sultan was sitting up and looking bewildered at your odd reaction. “Okay, I’m gonna go before you can say anything, m’kay, bye!” 

“W-Wait!” 

Nope. Not waiting. You ran, not even sure how to reach the vizier because you had no idea where his main quarters were, so you disguised your lack of knowledge as questions such as looking for his extra robes or even where the vizier himself was currently at, demanding answers along the way from unsuspecting servants until they pointed you in the direction. You had to hurry, you had to point out the thief so Jamil could use him and lure him to the lamp. Once he got the lamp, you’d take over from there, you’d come up with a plan eventually. Just not right now, not when you were rushing to make it back to inform the advisor of the intruder as quickly as possible. You climbed the spiraling staircases to one of the towers where the vizier’s quarters were located. 

As soon as you threw open the doors, you found him looking over a tome. However, as soon as you entered, he turned to look at you, raising an eyebrow as you heaved for a breath while you slammed the door shut behind you and leaned your weight against the wooden surface. You exclaimed breathlessly, “Thief!! Thief in the palace!” 

“Thief in the palace?” Jamil parroted, looking even more perplexed as he narrowed his eyes at you and you pointed to his open balcony that overlooked part of the city and part of the palace. 

Stumbling over to the balcony, you leaned your weight on the stone edges, letting the cool desert air fan your face. Quietly you mumbled, “That’s what I said. Catch up, or are you deaf?” When Jamil joined you at the balcony, he stood straight and tall as his dark eyes gazed out into the night. 

There, shrouded in the shadows, was the thief moving nimbly on rooftops and wooden pergolas covered in vines. They moved so quietly and effortlessly, going unnoticed even by the armored guards on patrol just below them. Finally, they disappeared into a hall, where there would only be servants cleaning and handling chores to keep the palace pristine. For once he finally appeared pleased, content, as he glanced at you and instructed, “Have the guards extend an invitation to our intruding guest. I will be escorting them to the cave. And you, my vassal?” 

You? As much as you wanted to go, it wasn’t like you could go into the cave yourself. You also couldn’t reveal that you knew that this thief was the diamond in the rough that the vizier had spent months searching for. No matter how much you wanted that lamp now, you couldn’t risk changing the plot. It was probably better to stay here until the thief would come back with the lamp, genie, with riches and a new name. While they would be busy with wooing the prince, that would be your opportunity to strike. “I’ll stay, keep Prince Jaseer and Kalim off your back if they come asking.” When you noticed Jamil’s attention still on you, you clarified smoothly, “I don’t wanna watch another failure with the cave going up in smoke.” 

“Quit being so pessimistic. This is the one.” He scolded, immediately turning to walk away. However, not before leaving another command to follow. “Go, make yourself useful and inform the guards immediately. I’ll be preparing to leave with the thief.” 

Rolling your eyes, you stood up and prepared yourself to rush down the steps and inform the guards. At the very least, you could get some well-earned rest once he left. “As you wish, your rottenness.”  ✧   ✧   ✧   ✧   ✧

“(Y/n)?” 

Your peaceful slumber in the vizier’s quarters was disturbed. On the lounge on the balcony you lay, eyes groggily blinking open only to be met with a familiar face leaning over you. You blinked again for extra measure, your mind processing who you were seeing. 

“Good morning!” Kalim smiled, his head just over yours. Out of instinct you jolted upright, accidentally hitting your forehead against his. “Ow! Ah–– you’re finally awake!” The young man cheered, ignoring the pain on his forehead as you hissed and rubbed your own head where it now hurt from the brunt of the impact. 

Glaring at the sultan for waking you up from a pleasant sleep, you squinted at his bright expression while rubbing your eyes and the now sore spot on your skull. “What the hell are you doing here? How did you even find me? How did you get in here? I locked the door before I fell asleep!” 

“Oh, that? Well, when everyone found out I was looking for you, they told me that you were asleep in Jamil’s tower. Obviously I knew where that was, but when I came to find you, the door was locked! I know, I know, Jamil really likes his privacy, but I just wanted to see you and you wouldn’t open the door! So, I just had the guards use the backup key to open the door and I’ve been waiting here ever since!” 

You sat up, taking a moment to process everything. If you weren’t already squinting because of your vision not yet adjusted to the brightness of the sun from the open balcony and grogginess from your own sleep, you would’ve been squinting even more to look at his smiling face incredulously. Rubbing your tired face, you sighed, “Let me get this straight. You couldn’t wait, so you had your people basically break into the vizier’s room and for what? Just to say good morning? How long were you waiting for me to wake up? Don’t tell me you were watching me sleep.” You scoffed somewhat sarcastically.

“I wasn’t watching you! Well… kinda. I just wanted to make sure you were okay! I do owe you.” You were kidding about that last part, so his response genuinely surprised you. Before you could even think up something to say, he stopped leaning over the long lounge chair you were on and stood up to show off a new article of clothing. A colorful woven shawl, similar to yours. “Look! Isn’t it great? They finished it while I was sleeping, and now we match! The tailors sprayed it with perfume too so it even smells like jasmine!” 

Frowning as you watched him happily twirl and show off the shawl, the feather you gave him stuck to his headband, you muttered, “All I smell is bullsh––” 

“Shhhh!” Appearing incredibly content with his new shawl, he continued to chatter on happily. “I love it so much! Tell me, is this the latest fashion trend in the city? It’s been a while since I’ve gone out.” 

You replied gruffly, “I dunno, why don’t you stick your head out the window and check? I’m not your tailor. Why don’t you ask them? Or even ask to go out or something.” 

At your words, his smile faltered the tiniest bit. It turned somewhat sad, but he continued to force that cheery expression as he averted his gaze downward albeit awkwardly. “I’d love to go out! But… I’m not really allowed. I’m sultan, remember? I’m only allowed to go out during special occasions, and I’ve never been allowed to just be with everyone else past the gates. My dad used to say it was dangerous, and even now the council says it’s not a good idea.” 

Wait a moment… This could work well to your advantage. There was plenty of time before Jamil returned. It would serve as a good excuse to gain your bearing and at least a bit of knowledge on the environment past the high palace walls. Plus, you would get points with the sultan if you made him happy. Besides, being on Kalim’s good side, as annoying as he was, could work out in the end. Especially if things start to go south. It didn’t hurt to be trusted by both the first and second most powerful people in the entire kingdom. Damn you were a genius. You smiled somewhat slyly. “Who says you gotta ask?” 

“H-Huh?” For once Kalim was caught off guard as you hopped up from your spot on the lounge. Once you got up, so did he. He followed you as you stepped over to open a cabinet of clothing. “You mean, go without asking? You really mean it?” 

Kalim was sultan, he’d obviously be recognized without a disguise. But if you just covered his white hair and lower face and switched his riches to common rags, he’d be fine. Probably. Hopefully. Picking up a few handkerchiefs and scarves he could use, you pretended to reconsider, “I dunno… We’d have to sneak out and break the rules–– just kidding, let’s sneak out!” Holding up some cloaks and fabrics he could use as a hood to cover his signature white hair and to mask his lower face, your smile grew as you persuaded him further, “Come on, let’s just go for a midday stroll and snack. We’ll just let everyone think you’re spending time in the vizier’s chambers waiting for him to return or something. Just follow me, out the window, ‘round the garden, I’ll carry you over, and we’re gone.”

Those red eyes of his turned to the open balcony and view of the city on this hot summer’s day. He stood still, as if contemplating it. But it didn’t take much convincing, or that long to ponder over his decision, because like in a snap, he broke out into a grin and eagerly bobbed his head up and down. That’s when you knew you had him in the palm of your hand. 

It took a bit of tip-toeing around, but eventually you managed to get Kalim past the gates with little to no trouble. You had a few coins you snatched from Jamil’s chambers safely secured within a pocket on the inside of your shawl, along with a few knives you tucked away in various parts of your outfit but those were mostly for a last resort. You didn’t plan to go too far because you didn’t know the layout of the city well, and plus you knew there was always the chance of thieves and pickpockets skulking about. The good thing was, that thief protagonist wouldn’t be here, they’d still be in the desert and the Cave of Wonders. All you were here for was a snack and to make the sultan happy, and happy sounded like an understatement. 

The young man was practically glowing, vibrating with energy as he danced on his heels. Kalim fit in surprisingly well. Since he wasn’t tall, he didn’t stand out that much in the busy crowd. Not to mention the lack of silks and fancy garbs helped. It was a good idea you gave him that average quality material to wear. On his body he wore a casual old white tunic turned beige with age and loose-fitted orange pants, with that rainbow shawl he commissioned recently and a dark orange hood with a black cloth around his lower face to top it off. The only thing you could really see if you got close to his face, were those big red eyes just sparkling with life. 

“Stop staring at me with those big old eyes.” 

Immediately he closed his eyes. Although the black fabric concealed the lower portion of his face, you could just tell he was wearing some stupid grin by the slight crinkle appearing on the bridge of his nose and the mirth dancing in his tone. “Sorry, sorry! This is all just so exciting! What are we going to do now? Everything smells so good! Oh, what’s all that––” 

When the sultan seemed set on some shady foreign merchants selling a variety of unlabeled goods, you grabbed the back of his collar, preventing him from dashing across the busy streets and being run over by carts hauling goods or being scammed for all the cash he had, or worse. “Hold on. When was the last time you actually went out? Like, as a normal person.” 

“Oh, the last time was… the beginning of never, actually. This is my first time!” The sultan beamed. 

Kalim was a merchant’s dream, like a sitting duck susceptible to astronomical prices and greedy exchanges. But more like a golden goose instead of a sitting duck. For now, the plan was to safeguard him. He already owed you for saving his life when calling out that assassin with the poison, but there had to be a definite connection. The sultan would be your plan B, should all else fail when attempting to acquire the lamp with the vizier Jamil. If Jamil were to go down, you would betray him in a heartbeat, and turn to Kalim. However, in order for Kalim to truly believe you, the trust had to be as solid as the gold that filled his palace. 

“Of course it is. I should’ve guessed.” Resisting the urge to just drop him off at the gates and enjoy your freedom, you opted that the safest options would just be the food stalls and he would be entertained by all the happenings in the market.

And you had been right, but what you didn’t take into account was how talkative he might be. Even as he happily munched away on street food sold at various stalls and carts. “You know, it makes me sad that I can’t go out like this. This is the first time I can stand in the middle of the city, without people crowding and staring. People just walk past me as if I’m nothing–– do you know how crazy that is?” 

He was sultan, and a prince before that, so he must’ve been accustomed to everyone bowing to him as he passed. All eyes would be on him, but here? Not a single person gave a passing glance. 

Taking a bite of the skewed spiced meat and grilled vegetables you bought for yourself, you shrugged at his words before finally adding in your own two cents. “If you take away your title, you’re just a guy.” 

“Just a guy…” He murmured quietly, like he never really considered the fact that without his name and his family’s wealth, he was practically a nobody. Taking a slow and concentrated bite of his own skewer, he allowed the taste to settle before looking down at it with a sense of wonder. “This is delicious! I’ve never had the privilege of just eating food without a taste tester. I might have to bring the man who made this back to the palace with me.” 

“Don’t blow your own cover.” 

“I won’t, I won’t! It’s just…” Kalim appeared to look down thoughtfully, taking another bite. As a sultan, he was probably so pampered and protected that he never once tasted street food or walked on a dirt road before. “Today, you’ve done something truly special for me, my friend. You gave me something worth more than gold or gems, you gave me a once in a lifetime experience! These days it’s hard to trust anyone around me.” 

Pausing mid bite, you raised an eyebrow and listened attentively. Possible intel? This could be useful, good information to store in the back of your mind for a later time to utilize when it was most advantageous. 

“All the servants are loyal for the most part, but that’s because there’s rules and payment involved. Sometimes, there’s one or two among them that have tried to harm me and my family.” He continued softly, almost seriously. This wasn’t like his usual cheery demeanor and loud tone. Right now his gaze was eerily calm and he spoke quietly, just loud enough so you could hear as you stood beside him. “For a while, I was okay with it. That’s how I grew up, it was my normal. But then I got older, my parents passed on, I got married for a little while but that didn’t last. Even some of my siblings, who I thought I could trust, turned against me just to get to the throne. It seems like everyone I love is either taken away from me or turns against me.” 

In that moment, he turned to face you, gazing at you with those big red eyes.  

Softly, he pleaded, “Promise me you won’t be like that? Taken away from me or turned against me–– I don’t think I could bear it. I can’t believe I never spoke to you properly sooner than I did! We could’ve been best friends by now!” His soft hands clutched yours, as he still awkwardly held the skewer between his thumb and pointer finger. 

You began freaking out a bit when his hands moved up to your face, squishing your cheeks between his palms as he brought your face closer to his 

“I mean, you make me so happy I could just kiss you! It wouldn’t be hard.” 

There was no way you just accidentally snagged a sultan. How? You of all people! With the rotten personality and a heart so shriveled and three sizes too small that it could rival the Grinch’s own beating core. Oh this made things too easy. Kalim was now the ace hidden up your sleeve. If worse came to worse and the original plan had to be abandoned, well, certainly playing the role of the sultan’s favorite little lover wasn’t too bad. At least until you could obtain the lamp. 

Certainly while the sultan was oblivious, he wasn’t dumb. However, he was most likely no expert when it came to love, as it appeared he wasn’t the most skilled at basic interactions from his cushy palace life. It couldn’t be that hard to keep him seduced, could it? Surely if he miraculously felt attracted to you, it was possible to keep him hooked for a while, until you had the wishes you desired. 

All it took was a single kiss on his forehead, to see those ruby red eyes dazzle so brightly in the sunlight. Although his lower face was concealed by the fabric around his head, he was bound to be grinning ear-to-ear like an idiot. And wrapped around your pinky to have at your disposal. “Happy?” 

Eagerly he nodded, taking a deep breath to hold so he wouldn’t squeal with joy. What a sucker. “So so happy, my dove!” 

“My dove? Huh…” At the little nickname, you sigh and shrug, stopping yourself from rolling your eyes so as to not appear too cold toward his advances and words. “Then let’s go back now before they go looking for you. Oh, look over there, what a beautiful bracelet…” You casually remark, gesturing toward a stand across the road that sold a variety of jewelry. If you had to kiss up to a man, might as well make it all worth it by causing his pockets to hurt. But what was a bit of gold and jewelry to his pockets that ran so deep? 

✧   ✧   ✧   ✧   ✧

“What is that…?” The vizier demanded, glaring at you. When he returned, he was in a foul mood. It must’ve been because the story was progressing and that thief got trapped in the Cave of Wonders with the lamp, but he said nothing about it other than it’s gone. However, even when he was outraged by his recent failure, he still noticed the golden bands wrapped around your arms. 

Seeing where his gaze was directed, you lifted your arm and showed off the golden bands speckled with white diamonds and decorated with swirls within the metal itself. “Oh, this? You like? The sultan gifted them to me.” You grinned, noticing his frown deepening. Using the opportunity, you flaunted. “I think that chump has taken a liking to me ever since I saved his skin.” 

"So I heard of your heroic deed." If the vizier had laser vision, he’d be searing your bracelet into a puddle of molten metal liquid by how hard he was glaring. “Don’t lose sight of what we’re after. In the end, the lamp can provide enough wealth to put that tiny gaudy thing to shame.” 

At his words dissing the rather expensive and delicately crafted accessory, your eyes widened as you pointed an accusatory finger at him. “Ohhhh, I see… You’re jealous! Ha! You’re mad! Stay mad!” 

A scowl etched his way onto his features as he hissed, “You think I’m jealous…?!” Pausing, he collected himself. Or at least, he tried to. But it was probably difficult to do so with the reminder in the back of his mind that his victory was within his grasp, only to be fumbled. Taking a deep breath, he seethed, “No, I am not jealous. In fact, you’re doing me a favor by distracting that airhead and also that bratty prince in the process. So, continue. I encourage you, but remember who your efforts are for. Now, there has to be another way to find another person worthy to go into that cave…” 

Scoffing, you readjusted the bracelet over your arm. Such a shiny thing that would’ve cost a small fortune back home. “Don’t worry, even though you’re a despicable serpent, you’re still my favorite.” Whether that was true or not, it was best to stay in his good graces. “I heard what happened from the few guards you took with you… it’ll be fine. The lamp is gotta still be there under all that sand.”

Ignoring your words, he still paused when he heard them, but he didn’t acknowledge them in the slightest. In fact, he only gave a command without so much as a glance in your direction. “Go get me my tome from that shelf.” 

Offering a smile without the pretentiousness, you went over to the shelf and picked the heavy tome he required. Almost everyday he seemed to read from this thing. “Okay, master, I’ll get you the dark wizard daily so you can enchant yourself some bitches.”

Bringing his fingers to his head, he rubbed the bridge of his nose as if in annoyance. For a moment you thought he might snap, but instead he only muttered, “I already have one that talks day in and day out, endlessly bothering me to no end. I do not need another one of you.” 

“Haha–– Wait, what?” 

That cold expression didn’t change, until his eyes wandered down to your arm. And as he continued speaking slowly, he grabbed your wrist within his hand. He removed the golden bracelets Kalim had bought for you in the market. Those golden bands were eventually in his hands. At their brilliant shine, he scowled and tossed them aside. On your arms, he placed silver ones. Silver bands that curled around your arms like snakes, to replace the ones the sultan gifted you. 

“What I mean is…” Using his golden staff, he extended it outward, using the cobra head on it like a hook to turn your head towards where he was seated, directing your gaze to his eyes. Those gray eyes were hypnotizing, this was what it must’ve felt like when Kalim was met face-to-face with the cobra head on his vizier’s staff. However, there was no magic being used at the moment. “You’re mine, not Kalim’s. Do you understand?” 

You frown as he switches them, closely examining the shine of your new bracelet. “Gold is shinier than silver…” 

He sighed, irked. “Then I’ll just make sure to take a gem, as big as your greed, from the treasury and have it engraved into one heavy necklace. Now––” Seeing you grin in content at his promise for another shiny treasure, he continued from where he left off. “You are mine. My vassal. Say it back to me. Yours.”

Jamil was dead serious as he spoke, clearly not in the mood for too many jokes or teasing. And for once, you were too stunned for words to blurt out anything. Besides, it wasn’t like you could when he was so close and staring at you so intensely. 

“You… Yours?” You parrot awkwardly, wincing at the way it came out of your mouth. However, the young man still keeping you close with his staff seemed content with your response. 

Those gray eyes remained focused on you. His eyes were thin and sharp, making it look like he wore eyeliner. As cruel and cold as he could be behind that calm and polite facade, there was a mysterious charm to him. It was as enticing as it was dangerous, and yet that was how you liked most things. Curse him for that. 

It’s strange. You thought he would be more enraged about the lamp and the incident at the Cave of Wonders. However, he seemed almost calm as he gazed at you. And without his fancy garbs composed of so many layers that pooled around him, he didn’t look so intimidating. The black sleeveless shirt he wore was loose but intricately decorated, and his pants looked like flowing silk. There wasn’t even that headpiece over his hair, which made him look… normal. If that were even possible. It made you forget the fact that he was a villainous vizier, meant to eventually go mad with power and accidentally curse himself to an eternity of solitude and servitude when he finally wished to become an all-power genie. Maybe if you could steer him down that path, you could have him for yourself as a second wish-granter...

“Mine.” He confirmed, giving you a hard stare as he lowered his staff. With a hand, he guided your fingers to his long dark tresses. Most of it was loose, but some strands were in thin braids that extended all the way up to his scalp. When you delicately pinched one of the braids between your fingers, the braids tied so tightly made them look like little scales. Slowly you unravel them for him, he didn’t protest. In fact, he appeared almost relaxed. “I’ve let him take away many things from me. Too many things. And I’m not about to let him snatch you away too.” 

“Eh, he’s annoying. Silly, but annoying. You on the other hand… my boss who’s a tall, dark, and sinister ugly man.” 

His eyes watched your every movement, looking on idly as your fingers slowly untwined his braids. So casually you were touching a man who had committed unspeakable crimes, most of which you could not even begin the picture. What else had he done to defend the sultan when it was his duty? What had he done to climb the ranks and try to climb even higher to the most dangerous heights? How many souls had he sacrificed to the Cave of Wonders? How many assassins did he personally fend off? How did he punish and silence those that dare try to reveal his secrets and plans working behind the scenes without the royal family or others taking notice? 

Jamil crossed his arms, indifferent to your insult. His gaze never once left your figure as he replied smoothly. “You’re a terrible liar… If I was as ugly as you claimed, you wouldn’t be staring at me like that or touching me. Now, sit down.” He was close–– too close when he added the next words in a way that left you puzzled as to what exactly he could’ve meant. “You’ll be rewarded for recognizing my greatness, before anyone else did. But for now.” He handed you a scroll. "Read, find something useful of the lamp or the cave."

Maybe the most unnerving thing about Jamil, was his mysterious allure. The sultan you knew was cheery and laidback, the prince was spirited and independent, and the thief you would learn about in due time. But the vizier? It seemed impossible to pinpoint anything to him. One moment he was stoic and silent, the next he could be taking your banter and come up with a witty reply, and the very next second he was enraged and permanently extinguishing a life. Yet he wasn’t wildly violent nor too charming that it felt like a mask. And yet, you couldn’t distinguish was was genuine emotion from him or just acts with different intentions behind them. And that was the most concerning part about the vizier–– did he truly like you or was this some elaborate facade?

✧   ✧   ✧   ✧   ✧

The following day you were awoken by thumping. Staying up late to assist the vizier search through old scrolls and books, wasn’t the brightest idea. The night was a bit of a blur, as you had stayed up so late researching with him. It was a blur of printed text, bickerings and snide remarks, fingers running through hair, and intense gazes, among other things. As you awoke later in the morning to an uproar from outside and a shaking of the ground like an earthquake. Trumpets and bells served as your alarm, as you fell out of the desk you had slumped over last night, a blanket over your shoulder that you hadn’t placed. 

Outside was quite a parade that could put all festivals to shame. White stallions carrying men with banners, camels carrying drummers whose sounds vibrated in the air, bands marching in the most vibrant uniforms, dancers in fine purples like pristine peacocks. It was like a traveling circus, zoo, and party all in one. And in your dazed state, the realization arrived suddenly–– 

“That’s the thief––!” 

Instantly you ran to your own room, or rather, the old vassal’s room, to wash up and change as quickly as humanly possible. You knew this would happen eventually, but you didn’t expect it to happen so soon. The thief, now a princess, was here! Here, arriving with a genie masquerading as their most faithful trusted servant. The lamp, she had the lamp with her! 

Once changed, you stepped back into the vizier’s tower. There was no one there, he even cleaned up after his research session, leaving no evidence behind of his plot with the Cave of Wonders. No book, scroll, or even a page was left. Damn, he was good. In your mind there’s no doubt he’s cleaned up after other plots and murders. What a slippery cretin. 

Quickly departing from the tower, you made your way through the grand halls, past the guards and servants. Although most were entranced by the grand spectacle that princess, or rather a crook, managed to display through the streets of the city. To think all that splendor and so much more was just within reach. But just because the finish line was in sight, did not mean that it was safe. There were more ways to die here than the number of tales Scheherazade had to tell. While having the favor of the sultan and vizier was certainly both an ego boost and a benefit, it didn’t make you invincible. That could only truly happen when you finally had the lamp in hand. 

As soon as you turned a corner, you heard laughter. Immediately, you got the wind knocked out of you and went flying. Literally. You went tumbling backwards, some type of fabric draping over your face and the weight of a body crashing into yours as you collapsed on your back in an awkward angle. You were milliseconds away from screaming bloody murder and ready to tear into whoever could be blamed, but you shut your mouth and clenched your teeth shut when you heard the familiar giggling. 

The cloth, whatever it was that had been over your head and obscuring your vision, was removed. However, it wasn’t removed by a person, it moved on its own. That’s when you realized it wasn’t a piece of cloth, it was a piece of fabric, woven wool to be more specific. The wool that composed the magic flying carpet from the story. It moved like a sentient being as you blinked at it in shock, and it extended one of its tasseled yellow ends to dust you off. 

“How in the hell…?” 

“My dove! I’m so sorry. Are you hurt?” He was gasping a bit from laughing so much on that magic carpet joy ride he must’ve just been on, the adrenaline still pumping through his system from flying within the palace’s high-ceiling rooms. 

Yes, you simple-minded idiot, you hit me like a train at full speed! Is what you would’ve said if you could, but it wouldn’t do to say that aloud when others might hear and get the wrong impression. It would attract too much attention if someone was blatantly disrespectful to the sultan. “No, I’m fine––” Your backside would be aching for a whole day. God, if only there wasn't a need for formalities, you would–– “And thank you… carpet.” The thanks came out awkwardly, as you were unused to thanking carpets but it seemed like a rather harmless and curious thing. 

“This contraption that the princess has brought is wonderful! You should try it!” 

The sultan gestured to the carpet. For such a priceless magical item that was stuck in a cave for who knew how long, it was in shockingly good condition. It had vibrant blues, and yellow patterns and symbols etched onto its surface. Yeah, you were definitely gonna keep it once you were in charge. 

“You know, I really think that my cousin Jaseer will love her! You have to meet her! And well…” He awkwardly scratched his cheek, looking somewhat sheepish as he mustered up the courage to speak the next words. His cheeks grew warm when he averted his gaze. Yet after a moment, his eyes shifted back to you. Such big innocent eyes, like the rarest of rubies. Usually you would try to admire the shine in such gems, but it was impossible to not take note of the obvious adoration within his gaze. “I was thinking, maybe you would like to join me later? We’ll be holding a banquet tonight, a party to celebrate our guests. But also, I wanted to spend time with you. What do you think? Is that alright?” 

For a moment you thought about it, slightly distracted when the carpet’s tassels were brushing against your arm and it appeared to stand so close. Not that you blamed the thing. If you were trapped in the Cave of Wonders like it was for so long, you would’ve gone insane. Maybe the thing just craved company or attention. Maybe it craved freedom. 

Kalim was providing the perfect excuse. You were the distraction, while Jamil could do whatever nefarious deeds he needed to complete in order for the plot to progress. However, it was already past the tipping point. Last night within those books, there was mention of the magic carpet within the Cave of Wonders. So chances are, the vizier already knows the princess is a fraud. 

“Hm, sure. Why not?” 

“Yes! Yes!” Quickly, he took your hands, clutching them tight. His energy was contagious apparently, because the carpet who had calmed down from the flight, received this burst of energy and was spinning around you too with great speed. “You won’t regret this! We’re going to have so much fun. And don’t worry about being overwhelmed by everyone, I know it can be a lot. So I’ll have an area set up just for us, away from the party guests, okay? That way, when we’re together and want to be alone, we can retreat there. Alright?”

Somehow with that invitation, while Jaseer and the princess whose name you’ve yet to learn, let alone care for, were likely learning about each other during the festivities and going off on their own romantic flight on the magic carpet, you were keeping the sultan distracted as the vizier had other matters to handle. Even when you were certainly not elegant or charming in even the slightest sense, appealing to the bubbly young man was surprisingly easy. Perhaps it was because he already was attracted to whatever he saw within you. 

Forced to entertain his request for a dance when the music began, he pulled you back behind a curtain to avoid people seeing, much to your great relief. He had a great big smile as he spoke about various things from the happenings of his kingdom to his own personal matters. 

“Do you care if I was married?” He asked a bit nervously, looking unsure if he should have even mentioned that to you. As far as you knew, the sultan was previously married, but nothing really came of the union. For whatever reason, he was single now with no children and his wife was no longer in the picture. Some creeping suspicion conjured up the possibility that Jamil had something to do with that. 

“I do not care.” You answered honestly. Why was he even asking that like how a boy would shyly ask a girl he liked if they mind the fact that he dated somebody before? Talk about zero charm. Was the only reason he got married because of his status? Most likely. Even if he was filthy rich and powerful, maybe even elegant looking in a way, he wasn’t exactly marriage material. “Tell me anyway. Details. I want details.” 

Surprised, he blinked at you. “Me? You wanna know about that? Well, it’s not very interesting… I would say it’s a long story, but it’s really not.” He chuckled a bit dryly, absentmindedly fiddling with the ends of the curtains where they had privacy on a balcony with a wonderful view of the port where the city met the waters. “I was young, an eighteen-year-old prince. Accidents happened to most of my siblings that were my age, so I was next in line. There’s a law that states that those next in line for the throne have to be married by a certain age. My father picked her when I couldn't decide. She was a princess from the north where apparently it’s all cold and snowy. A year or so after the wedding, my father and mother passed in an accident. Then, later on, she was gone too.” 

These sort of details were never mentioned in any rendition of the story that you remembered. At least, none that you recalled. However, it had been a while since you read them, so it could just be your memory. And the fact that in those takes, the sultan was an old man. “Do you ever miss her?” 

“Hm… sometimes. I thought I would miss her more, I feel like I should miss her a lot, but… I don’t.” He admitted quietly, lounging on his stomach so his arms were folded in front of him and his cheek was resting on his arm. “Over the years, I feel like I’ve lost track of all the accidents. My brother married into the royal family of a neighboring nation and urged them to wage war on our home, my sister attempted to bribe bodyguards to do her dirty work, aunts and uncles sent assassins.” 

“Drama.” You hummed as you lay across from him, laying flat on your back instead of your stomach. 

At your casual remark he almost laughed. Maybe that was his way of processing trauma, through humor and positivity. All this betrayal and hurt was certainly enough to drive someone mad. Maybe he wasn’t completely right in the head. “Okay, this is getting depressing, so I’ll stop. But you see why I like you? Why I trust you with my life? You’re so… so… real. It doesn’t feel like you sugarcoat things, and you’re so blunt! No one ever talks to me like that. You talk to me as if I’m just a guy, and nothing else.” 

He remembered what you said that time in the market. “You are just a guy.” You repeat. And that’s all he would be. If you couldn’t get the lamp, and Jamil got his greedy hands around it first, well maybe it was worth wishing for the vizier to spare the poor sultan. Besides, he was likable. Annoying, but entertaining. “And you really shouldn’t.” Trust. He shouldn’t trust you.

“But I do!” He pushed himself up, until his head was right above yours. Those ruby red eyes gazing right down at you, his face so close to yours that his nose brushed against yours. Gold around his ears dangled, making small rings like wind chimes. Kalim peered at you so immensely, so focused, but it was a gentle tender gaze as he lowered his face closer to yours. “I trust you, so, so much…” 

It only took a few moments for things to get out of hand. Oh, it was so easy, too easy. You were no tempest, but Kalim made it simple. Like toying with a doll. So after several minutes in, you hear the familiar voice of the vizier calling you, you immediately pull away and sit up. Panic was plastered over your face at the thought of being seen by that envious viper. When Kalim sat up with you, he looked much more dazed, like a lovestruck fool. To which you immediately pushed him down and hissed. “Shit! What’s he going to say if he finds me here with the sultan?” 

Part of his white hair was messy, as the cloth he usually wore around his head fell off sometime ago. His short strands stuck out at some angles, and he didn’t bother recollecting his composure as he was still dizzy. “Lucky sultan?” 

When he gave you a stupid grin, you pushed him aside. Luckily the spot was relatively hidden by curtains, pillows, and plush blankets and carpets. “Shut up…! Just, stay here.” 

Quickly you smoothed down your appearance before exiting the area, entering the halls to search for the vizier that had called you. Apparently, the time to act was here. Mere moments ago, he had instructed his loyalest soldiers under his command to bring in the princess they had cornered. 

So by the time you arrived at the vizier’s tower, there in the open window strapped to a chair atop an elevated surface of a table was the princess. Beautiful, sure. Especially when she wore such flashy garbs of pure white and purple. Cleverly she had wrapped a cloth around her head like a shayla, hiding her hair which could’ve been a key feature used to identify her, besides her face of course which she couldn’t exactly conceal under these circumstances. Her feet and wrists were bound tightly with rope, and if her chair tipped backwards she would meet a cold end in the salty waters of the sea right below. 

There was a distinct hint of nervousness in her tone as she attempted to persuade the two guards that this had been a misunderstanding, that they must’ve had no idea who she was, you watched the pair of soldiers double-check the security of the ropes bounding her. While in walked the vizier. It seemed like he was busy while you were taking a… break. Now, if the princess was here, where was that cursed lamp? Your eyes scanned her figure, searching for pockets she might’ve had. 

“We know who you are, Aliyyah.” The vizier spoke, sounding way too casual at the moment as he walked over to his tome situated on his desk. So that was the thief’s true name.

“Aliyyah…? I don’t know who that is–– I’m Princess Alya!” 

Jamil interrupted her, as she looked increasingly anxious. “A princess from a kingdom which does not exist. And who arrived on a magic carpet told to only be obtainable from the Cave of Wonders.” 

Carpet. That’s right. The carpet and the monkey the thief owned were still somewhere within the palace. There couldn’t be any loose-ends. Not when the lamp’s location was still unknown. It could be anywhere within the palace. 

Silently stepping over to the door where two more guards were situated to look-out, you allowed the vizier and thief to continue their stand-off while you opened the door slightly to whisper to one of the additional guards. “Go to our guest’s quarters. There, you should find our visitor’s pet and that magical carpet. Do not let them leave the quarters. And do not go alone, bring multiple other soldiers if you have to, but this is to remain discreet. I don’t care what you do to the monkey, but I better not see so much as a loose piece of string on that carpet. Capeesh?”

Being the vizier’s vassal had its benefits. As they usually only ever responded to the vizier himself, but since you were known to be the wise young man’s trusted advisor, your words carried weight among the staff wielding weapons and wearing armor. So obediently, the soldier nodded and immediately went off to see that the task was done. Afterwhich, you closed the heavy wooden door shut to prevent any sound from escaping, and returned your attention back to the vizier and the thief. 

“I’m afraid you’ve worn out your welcome.” His tone was no longer so casual. There was an icy coldness to it as he stalked closer, quickly growing tired of her adamant denial. “If I throw you off of that balcony, and you are who you say you are, you will die a watery death.” 

If Jamil pushed one of his own guards into a well for even considering the action of refusing orders, well, pushing a thief turned princess off several floors into deep waters was something he wouldn’t hesitate doing. So you watched carefully as the severity of the situation was settling on the princess, as she struggled in her bonds and her seat. However, there was no lie or tricks that could get her out of this one. 

“And if you survive, it can only be because of the lamp. Now…” 

Waving off the pair of soldiers, they left, leaving only the thief, the vizier, and yourself. As the dark-haired sorcerer did the familiar movement of lifting the end of his spear so it was directly against her collarbone, the princess gulped and an ominous look came over the vizier’s face. When the princess glanced at you, you only grinned and wiggled your fingers like waving goodbye. However, when she turned to face you, that’s when your sharp eyes caught a glimpse of something sparkly in the cloth around her hair, right behind her neck. Slowly you walked closer.

“Where is the lamp?” Jamil demanded. 

“Listen,” The young woman pleaded. She was young, about your age. And surely you knew that she would die a watery death, because now you knew where the lamp was. Whatever name she went by, or whoever she was, Princess Alya of a faraway nation or the thief Aliyyah, it wouldn’t matter. “I swear to you,” Her voice wavered with uncertainty. “I am––” 

You bumped the tip of his staff, with enough pressure to tip her off the end just as you leaned forward to reach the cloth around her skull. Your grip was on the fabric, not her. So she went tumbling down multiple floors, plunging into dark brine. Her scream was cut off by the sound of a splash and the breaking of wood. The chair must’ve broken upon impact, but she went sinking down and down. The only thing preventing you from falling as well, was the curved cobra head Jamil had used like a hook around your back to secure you from falling. And in your hands, wrapped in the silk white cloth, lay what would’ve been her salvation, what was your salvation–– the lamp. 

“This is convenient. Now it’s time for you to answer the same question I asked her.” 

“What? Aren’t you going to pull me to safety?” You stared at him wide-eyed, as he practically dangled you above your doom. Yes, the lamp was in hand, but you couldn’t rub it to summon the genie. Not when your fingers were gripping it tightly so it wouldn’t fall into the waters below and risk hitting the jagged rocks, while your other hand gripped the golden staff to avoid falling, your toes just barely on the edge. Even the slightest wrong move, would send you plummeting to those sharp stones and salty waters so far below. Could you survive that fall? Maybe, if you could avoid the rocks. Which seemed like a slim chance. 

Ignoring your growing fear, he continued calmly, keeping a steady grip on his staff. A small tremble could unbalance you and make you fall. Or, he could be so cruel as to let you drop. But, you had the lamp, which might’ve been the only reason he held on. “I know who you are, criminal.” 

Down below, there was no sign of the thief emerging. The only thing that came up to the surface of the waves was a purple sash from her garbs. Something about his words was enough to tell you that he didn’t mean the role you were playing, he meant you. You who were arrested and sent here as punishment, as your own personal hell, to die for your crimes. And here you were, just as those bastard judges wanted, on the very brink of death. Literally. “You know nothing about me––” 

“I know everything about you. I know your crimes, your anger, your burning hatred for those who have wronged you. I know.” Gray eyes narrowed at you, but his hold was unwavering. You couldn’t save yourself, not in this position. You were at his mercy. Even when your heart felt like it was beating rapidly, and you were thinking a mile a minute of possible ways to get out of this situation only for each idea to end in failure. You heard his words he spoke bitterly, like they had a deeper meaning. But then he added, “I know you hide a knife in your shawl, a second in your pillowcase, and a third under your mattress because you never trusted me completely. It pains me to see you reduced to this.” 

No, he knew nothing about you. The real you, even if he thought he did. He could never imagine what it was like, the things you had done. Even if he somehow discovered the truth, that you were not his trusted vessel but acted like them, you weren't them. “You–– You don’t know me!” 

“A criminal from another world, sent into what was like a story. You thought you could trick me and everyone else. But you underestimate me. As soon as you opened your big mouth, I knew you were a fraud. What did you call me? A two-faced snake? Ironic.” 

You had called him that, while playing a role to trick him this entire time. Just as the protagonist had tried, and look where she ended up because of that. Dead. Drowned by water and salt, with a body that would either become fish food or wash ashore as an unrecognizable corpse. How did he know? There was no possible way to know! You told no one! Trusted no one!

The air was a bitter cold. Moonlight shone on his face, letting you see the royal vizier’s cunning features and how he was grinning. He was grinning at your predicament, as he held your fate in his hands. Your arm was starting to feel numb from holding on for so long, but you couldn’t let go. There was no way you would let go of the lamp or of yourself, after everything and how far you got. When glory and sweet revenge on everyone was literally in the palm of your hand.

“But you leave yourself unguarded when you sleep.” That was the answer, you realized with horror. That was how he knew way more than he should! Jamil invaded your very mind, controlling it with this very cursed staff he held you from. “They wronged you, those above you. Underestimate you. We’re more alike than you would like to verbally admit.” 

“Jamil, you––! Vile liar, son of a––” 

“That’s sorcerer to you.” He corrected you. 

That’s right–– in the story once the vizier gets a brief moment of victory, he uses his wishes to place himself atop the social hierarchy of power. First sultan, then a sorcerer, then a genie. Above a sultan: a sorcerer. But why was he skipping the sultan stage? 

The vizier turned serious, stretching out his hand that did not hold the staff. He held out the palm of his thin hand, offering a twisted grin that made your stomach weave into knots. Speaking firmly, he offered a once in a lifetime deal. And it was either accept his deal, or die for the price of what was committed. “I told you, you are mine. I meant that. I plan to be something great, much greater than that simpleton. So, once I become the most powerful man in the world, you may take the title of sultan if it’s what you wish. All you have to do is hand me the lamp, my Treasured Vassal.”

#twst #twisted wonderland #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twst #kalim al asim #twst kalim #yandere kalim al asim #jamil viper #twst jamil #yandere jamil viper #Scarabia #damnation twst au

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 59

part 1 | part 58 | ao3

cw: canon-typical horror/gore (like for real this time), emetophobia, reference to minor character death. ty to @thisapplepielife for indulging my weirdly specific research about headstones

Steve tries to follow her — gets shot down before he even gets within speaking range, Max shouting at him to give her a minute the second she spots him coming over the hill. He backs off, hands raised in surrender, and then…

Well, then he’s already out of the car.

Well then his feet know where to take him.

His dad’s grave isn’t far. Maybe a football field away, close enough that he’ll be able to hear it if Max calls for help. He moves toward it without thought, his legs carrying him past simple overgrown markers in the oldest part of the park — crumbling remnants of civil war soldiers, farmers and shopkeepers and factory workers, people who worked the mines, people who died before his grandfather was born. People who might have been loved once, before time and moss and water stripped their names off of the stones.

Up the next slope, the markers get more elaborate, shift from bronze to granite to marble, to monuments and mausoleums and a fucking obelisk; ostentatious displays of the town’s oldest money. The coal barons, the oil tycoons. Rotten bastards, Wayne might say.

The Harringtons aren't that rich. They're further down the hill in a neatly manicured row of Indiana limestone; fresh flowers on each grave, the weeds plucked, the grass trimmed.

Dad's buried right next to Grandpa Otis.

It almost looks nice.

Crisp, clean, dry. Nothing to suggest the messy wet red of his father's demise. Steve shoves his hands in his front pockets and steps up to his dad's plot, toes the edge of it, the rounded lump of earth, sparse grass and loose soil where his father's bones are laid. The ground gives a little under his weight, the dirt compacting. Could he dig this up with just his hands? Could he claw through until he reached the bottom, pry open the box and peer inside? Unbidden, the image forms in his mind: worm food and rot, half a man left inside, somehow still frowning in disappointment with his jaw bone shining clean.

Steve's stomach turns. A sick shiver runs through him, saliva flooding his mouth, sweat beading at his hair line.

This isn't right.

Something's not right.

There's a sudden chill in the air, frigid wind carrying a smell like roadkill in the summer — heat wafting from the pavement, death clogging up his throat. Steve covers his nose and wills his shoulders down from his ears; tries to mutter words of comfort to himself under his breath. “Just a graveyard, Steve. Just a totally… normal…”

Ice on the back of his neck. Steve tenses every muscle, turns his good ear toward the sound of whatever's creeping up on him; something taller than him, something slithering and wet, its rasping rattles of frozen breath sending goosebumps down Steve's arms. His hands twitch inside his pockets.

Then, a voice — a voice that isn’t his, that can’t be anyone’s, because the man it belonged to is dead. “That Munson boy was right about you."

Steve can't fucking breathe. Dark clouds roll in around him, violent as a blooming bruise, and that voice behind him echoes — distorted, vicious; hungry.

"You are a black hole."

Steve grabs two fistfuls of his own hair and tugs; wills the pain to dispel the nightmare, his eyes swimming from the sting.

The thing behind him laughs. "Look how you ruined your mother," it snarls. "Look how you tore her apart.”

"Shut up!" Steve barks with his hands over his ears.

“Steve…” The voice deepens, beckons, thick with malice and rot. Steve slowly turns to face it, trembling all over, pulse thudding in his ears, and his shoes squelch in the dirt, and when he looks down he sees that the dirt has turned to mud that now turns to oozing red, a viscous river beneath his feet, flowing up over his ankles, pouring from his father's grave. And there, in front of him, a mangled remnant stands. The ruined corpse of Richard Harrington, his skin shriveled and gray, the torn parts of him held together by his clothes. There’s a hole in his torso where the exposed ribs glint like knives.

Steve throws up on himself.

The ground gives way beneath him, goes spongy like rotting meat, and the thing wearing his dad's face cackles as Steve sinks into the earth, the grave swallowing him whole, up to his calves, his knees, his thighs. "Join me," it offers, lipless smile full of teeth.

The glamor peels back to reveal a monster underneath, its scarred skin crawling in mucus-coated vines; naked, long-limbed, stitched together with burnt flesh.

Steve screams as he scrambles for purchase, up to his hips now in the muck, his feet on the lid of his dad's casket. He claws blindly at the loose ground but it’s all thick and wet with red, and the air itself is red; blood in the sky, in his eyes, in his lungs. He's going to die here. The voice tells him so. It's in his head now, a bellowing echo as the monster draws near, one hideous hand outstretched, an all-consuming join me, join me, JOIN ME—

“HEY!!!”

Max shouts directly in his face, shaking him hard by both shoulders where they're crouched on the cool ground, Kate Bush leaking from the headphones slung around her neck. Steve gives a startled shout and jerks back out of her grip, falling hard on his ass, landing harder on his elbows.

The world shifts back to blue. To dry, clean grass. To breathable air.

Steve pants up at the sky. His shirt clings to him where he's soaked it through with sweat. When Max offers him a hand, he stands on shaky legs, looks at the ground beneath his feet and screams again, scurrying back until his ass hits a stranger's headstone.

There’s a dent in the earth where he was standing. A smudge of packed dirt where he really did sink in. Steve stares at it; feels it reaching out for him, the dark patch thudding like a heart beat, spreading out like snaking vines.

He clutches at his heaving chest. Max’s eyes are huge on him.

"Okay, what the fuck?" she begs.

"What the fuck yourself!"

No heat behind the words, but they burn him, anyway, pushed out on a weak gasp. Is this what she was talking about? Is this what she calls nothing?

This doesn't feel like fucking nothing.

“Shit," she says, and her eyes go even wider. Steve can see the veins in them. "Shit, Steve, your nose…”

He swipes his arm across his face.

It comes back red.

—

part 60

tag list in separate reblogs under '#trailer park steve au taglist' if you'd like to filter that content. if you want to be added please comment and let me know (must be over 21; please either verify in the comment or have your age visible on your blog)

#trailer park steve au #steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #max mayfield #vecna

[biteofcherry]

I see you're being a menace Navy! And at the very start of the week 😜 Then I shall fight your attack @navybrat817 with a beast of my own! 😏 Who's not scared of the big bad wolf?

Bad Moon Rising

alpha!Ari Levinson x omega female reader

warnings: none; a bit of dirty talk; brief mention of chase kink; shifter!Ari; wolf!Ari; alpha!Ari;

You chop the ingredients with viciousness, pouring into it your need to stab a certain someone and cut off the invisible ties which bound your future.

Yet you keep it diced nicely, instead of turning everything into a mush.

Partly because you aren't that childish to act out, but also because your mother ingrained enough of proper hospitality behavior that you couldn't simply shake it off to spite a bloody Alpha.

Especially not when he was invited to your family home, by your parents, for a Sunday dinner.

So they could meet their future son-in-law officially; as if Ari didn't drag you back marked with his cum, after chasing you through the woods a week ago.

You were annoyed that everyone seemed to forget about that part, but you were also glad they never pointed out how you clung to his side despite glaring murderous intent at him.

Was it the vulnerability that you tried to shield yourself behind the big Alpha, or did that instinctive chase and victorious marking successfully lured your wolf side to accept Ari as your mate?

You're not sure.

You scrubbed your body clean of his cum, yet it still feels like his smell lingers on you. Your tongue tingles and mouth fills with saliva whenever you think of the salty taste of him.

With an angry grunt, you chop a cucumber in half. Then dice it with precise, quick moves.

Pity you didn't have the knife with you when you opened the door earlier. You could've stabbed Ari in the thigh when he greeted you with a grin and a comment that he's surprised to see you waiting in place, since he half expected to have to chase after you again.

He brought gifts, because apparently he was raised well, even though you thought him to be the most primitive beast.

A bouquet of flowers for your mother, a bottle of top shelf bourbon to share with your father, and a blackberry tart for dessert (which was one of your favorites and you found yourself annoyed that he chose so well).

Cursing under your breath, you stand up on your tiptoes to reach the black glass bowl on the highest shelf. Your fingertips barely reach it.

Suddenly, an arm wraps around your middle. Solid, hot body presses against your back.

You're startled, but the familiar now scent of pine and moss wraps around you, caressing your animal side like the gentlest pet.

You gulp, watching muscles flex beneath the bronzed skin on Ari's forearm as he easily reaches the bowl and takes it down for you.

"You're trembling," Ari notices, keeping you caged between his massive body and the counter.

He splays his fingers over your belly, the other hand tracing along the goosebumps on your arm. You feel the coarse denim of his jeans against the back of your thighs; your sundress too thin to block the warmth of him from seeping in.

"A mountain of a man, who could easily break my neck with one hand, sneaked up on me. Of course I'm trembling."

You don't believe your own lie, either. The cool indifference you hoped to carry your voice sounded too husky.

Ari's lips graze the shell of your ear. Puff of his breath seems to disperse through your whole body, like an echo calling out to your nature.

"We both know the only parts I'm going to break are your holes, little Omega," his voice is deceptively soft; more of a promise than a threat and your body ignites at the prospect.

You hope the smell of baked potatoes and roast resting out of the oven is enough to mask the splash of your arousal, but with the Alpha's sharpened senses you're not sure it helps cover your reaction.

So you lightly jab an elbow into his stomach to push him away (before he makes a mess out of you, or before your parents find you in a compromising position).

"Don't be crude," you huff, filling your hands with chopped veggies and tossing them into the bowl.

Ari chuckles, but steps aside. Not far enough for your liking, only a few inches as he leans his hip against the counter and studies your profile.

His head slightly tilted, Ari licks his lips, dragging his teeth over the bottom lip as he watches you dip a finger into the jar with dressing and bring it up to your lips to taste the seasoning.

"I'm not made to be waxing poetics," he admits with a shrug. "But I also don't think they'd work on you."

"You don't know that. You don't know anything about me." You tilt your chin up, pouring the dressing over the salad.

"I know you're determined. Smart. And strong willed." Ari sounds as impressed and fascinated as he did that first night you met him. "I also know you're closer to the wild, animal side than you let on."

He traces a finger along your shoulder, flicking the strap of your dress aside.

"I know you've got as much of thrill from the chase as I did," Ari's finger draws lower, across the swell of your breast.

"I know your wolf accepts me. And that you're primed to take me even now..."

His finger presses against your stiffened nipple and your knees threaten to give out.

It's the truth that scares you the most. You're a shifter - part human and part wolf. And that night when Ari hunted you down, your wolf submitted.

The bitch fucking yielded in delight for the big bad Alpha.

"Stop it!" You slap Ari's hand away and adjust the strap back into place.

"Take this out to the backyard," you place the bowl in his hands. "You were supposed to be there, anyway. You're a guest, act like one."

Ari's fingertips brush yours as he takes the bowl from you, the contact, though minimal, makes your heart jump.

"Only three weeks, little Omega," he says, holding your gaze. "Three weeks until the ceremony. Then I'll have all of you."

You can't be thinking about that; about the details of the ceremony and the bond that will tie you to Ari forever. Every time your thoughts briefly turn in that direction, your wolf perks up in some wild need and you end up drenched and restless.

"Well," you lick your lips, yanking your hands away from Ari's touch, "maybe I'll run away."

"Don't threaten me with a good time," Ari grins, so fucking cocky.

He winks at you, then leaves the kitchen. For a short moment you consider if you'd menage to run away this very moment.

#navybrat817 #ari levinson x reader #ari levinson x you #alpha!ari levinson #alpha!ari levinson x omega reader #ari levinson x female reader #alpha ari levinson x omega female reader #ari levinson imagine #bad moon rising

[kitcat22]

Elrond’s Jewellery collection!

Some things that were handed down, gifted or just bought for himself. only a select few pieces, his full collection needs an entire room of its own.

Peacock hair comb - belonged to Maglor. It was bought by Celegorm from a street vender in central Tirion for Maglor’s birthday. He said that since Maglor acted like a peacock so he may as well dress as one.

Lily flower earings - a gift from Cirdan after Elrond and Elros’s return. The boys were going through a lot mentally especially Elrond as Elros began to get closer to the Edain. Lily’s are a symbol of rebirth and resurrection.

Elwing’s wedding ring - once belonged to Elenwe’s. Jewellery making wasn’t a major priority in the havens of sirion so this was the best Earendil could do.

Golden cuff with a beautiful picture of a field on a sunny day carved into it. - Belonged to his nurse from Sirion. He took it from her corpse. She had no family left in middle earth so he kept it with the intention of returning it one day.

A set of rings each with a little dogs carved into it. - Bought from Haladin merchant.

Delicate pearl necklace with two small swan’s intertwining. - Gifted from a tween Findekano with a not-at-all-obvious crush to Maitimo after he returned from visiting Aqualonde.

Cherry blossom Hairpin - that functions as dagger. From a sindar lord with a bit of a crush.

Bronze bangles - Celebrimbor bought them from Narvi and sent them to Lindon as one of Elrond’s coming of age gifts.

Crystal earrings previously belonged to Galadriel. He claims to not know how they ended up in his possession.

Seahorse Broach bought in Numenor during a visit to his nieces and nephews.

Flower crown made of solid gold crafted by Feanor after Maitimo went through a very public and very bad break up with a Vanya nobleman. He showed up to the spring festival wearing it like princess Diana in her revenge dress.

A heavy golden choker with red jewels. Gifted to Maitimo by Melkor on his birthday during the years of the trees no one was comfortable with this least of all Maitimo but he couldn’t refuse a gift from one of the Valar so publicly. Even Celebrimbor’s maia friend seemed very tense and almost angry when he saw it. Mostly stays inside jewellery box, occasionally goes on display in museums.

A little coin with boats on a raging ocean engraved on it Earendil found it washed up on the beach and gave it to him and Elros to share. Has a little gold chain that lets it be worn as a necklace.

#silmarillion #the silm #silm #elrond #elrond peredhel #elros #maedhros #maglor #Celebrimbor #earendil #elwing #cirdan #feanor

[written-with-blue-ink]

Cuddles with alhaitham? I want to be in his arms desperately please and thank you

Thank you for the ask! Not necessarily cuddles but happy wholesome fluff is coming up <3 also, I got a lot of requests and I am going in order from oldest to newest, sorry for the wait y'all. Wish the Furina wanters to be Furina Havers!

At the Dendro Archon's Decree, Alhaitham X Reader

Being the (Acting) Grand Scribe meant long days and multiple pots of coffee just to get work done. How he wondered how much Aazar and so many previous Grand Sages fucked up just due to not listening to the “Lesser Lord”. 

The average day had him leave long before you woke up and come home when you had finished your dinner, curled in the corner with a book. Sure, the few moments he got to spend with you were precious, but you both knew you wanted more time together. Just seemed like it wasn’t in the cards right now.

That’s why when the doors of the elevator opened, he was not expecting the God of Wisdom sitting at his desk, scribbling down notes and her vizier, no kagemusha was the term he used for himself, sitting off to the side with a scowl and crossed arms. “Lord Kusanali,” Alhaitham slowly stated, eyes glancing at the both of them, “I wasn’t aware we had a meeting today.”

Her green eyes fluttered up, her flower-shaped pupils meeting his, and seemed to shine with amusement. “Alhaitham! You’re here,” she smiled, pulling herself up so she was standing on the chair, “you can go home now. Bye!”

The white-haired man narrowed his eyes and cocked a brow as he stepped to the center of the room. “While I don’t mind going home,” he spoke bluntly, “is there a reason for my sudden dismissal?”

“Yeah, you work too much,” the hat-wearing boy said in the corner, a smirk on his face that always seemed to rub Alhaitham slightly the wrong way.

“Exactly,” Nahida smiled, pointing at the boy with indigo hair. “Not in a bad way but you have taken on so much work that was originally split evenly amongst several heads. While we are looking for replacements you have taken on that work but you deserve a break, Grand Sage Alhaitham.”

“Acting Grand Sage,” he corrected but he couldn’t help but feel some of the tension leave his shoulders. “But thank you, Lord Kusanali. I’ll be going now.”

Swiftly turning around and walking back to the elevator, he couldn’t help but smile as Nahida shouted, “Have fun! Tell (Y/N) I said hi!”

Walking out the doors of the Academia’s Library, the edge of the sun started peaking over the horizon. The warmth on his skin seemed to add some speed to his step as he briskly walked home.

---

Waking up in the morning, the smell of fresh bread hit your nose and the light shining through the windows sturred your senses. The thin bronze cat batted at the pillow next to you, her spots seeming darker in the shadow she gave off. “Mornin, Asal… How are you, baby girl?”

She purred as you scratched behind her ear, flopping on her side as you scratched her tummy with a smile. After a minute or two, the smell from outside your bedroom seemed to grow stronger and Asal flipped herself back onto her feet and bounded out the cracked door. You giggle as you hop to your feet, running out the door after her.

Wandering through the hall, you turn the corner just in time to watch Asal crawl up the green fabric before wrapping herself around the neck of a familiar face, his eyes concentrating on the stove as he cooked some eggs. She licked the side of his face, causing him to turn to the left, eyes meeting yours as you both smiled. “What are you doing here, handsome? Shouldn’t you be doing Grand Sage things?”

“Lord Kusanali sent me home and said I needed to spend more time with you,” he said, eyes on you instead of the dish in front of him as he slid the eggs onto a plate. “But you wouldn’t have any idea about that, would you?”

Strutting forward, he places an arm around your waist. “Why, I have no idea what you could be insinuating,” you smirk, placing a kiss on his lips as he pulls you closer to his chest.

Asal crawled down from the man’s neck into your arms, purring as you held her close. Alhaitham rolled his eyes, leading you to a table covered in slices of bread, cheeses, honey, and other spreads. Pulling a chair out for you, he spoke, “Then how did the Dendro Archon know you and I were dating? I don’t necessarily talk about my private life at work.”

“Well,” you coo, placing a hand on his, “I may or may not have run into her while I was bringing you lunch a few weeks ago. Then she would occasionally stop by in my dreams and we would talk… You aren’t mad, are you?”

His eyes melted at the question. Leaning over the chair, his arms wrapped around your shoulders and he placed a kiss in your hair, “How could I ever be upset at you?”

#genshin headcanons #genshin x reader #genshin imagines #genshin impact x reader #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham #alhaitham x you #al haitam x reader #al haitham #al haitham x reader #alhaitham x y/n #alhaitham x gender neutral reader #genshin nahida #lesser lord kusanali #scaramouche #genshin fluff #genshin oneshots #genshin men #genshin men x reader

[genderbinaryisforlosers]

everyone give it up for knickolas pterodactyl hob. rue certainly has

[id: Two digital drawings depicting a scene from A Court of Fey and Flowers; Hob, Andhera, Binx, and Rue meet in the abandoned tailor’s shop. In the first image, Andhera and Hob stand side by side, with Andhera touching the back of his neck and smiling at Hob as his stormcloud brews, and Hob standing with his hat tucked under his arm, nervously saying, “The K in K.P. stands for Knickolas.” In the second image, Rue rests their face on their claw and above their head in cursive script, surrounded by hearts and peonies, are the words, “I Love Him.” At their side, Binx looks confused, with question marks gathering around her head. /end id]

more detailed description under the cut

Andhera is a young Unseelie faerie with dark plum-coloured skin, extremely long pointed ears, and ember-red irises on black sclerae. His hair is in messy curls flopping down to the side, and streaked with dark grey. He is wearing his usual gold and black robe, exposing his chest, which is shiny from the drizzle raining down from their cloud. He is wearing a gold circlet on his head and several matching earrings in their extremely long ears. He is smiling gently with his eyebrows raised, looking in Hob’s direction. Their cloud is dark, subtly cracking with pink-purple lightning, and some of the peaks look like the tops of hearts.

Hob is a fluffy brown bugbear with large fangs and tall pointed ears. He is dressed down, wearing a plain navy-blue greatcoat with his cavalry hat tucked under one arm and his other behind his back. His brow is furrowed, and he is looking towards the ceiling, with comical droplets of sweat jumping off his forehead. His eyes are luminous yellow in the dark.

Rue is a gigantic owlbear (bipedal, top half owl and bottom half bear) with a barn owl’s face and dark talons. They have yellow-green-tinted feathers that become dark khaki as they get longer. They have big, shiny black eyes, and pink speckles around them. They are wearing a multicoloured quilted jacket over an ornate red doublet, and a single-shoulder forest green cape with a leather pauldron. The pauldron is engraved with golden peonies, and pink peonies also bloom around their thought of “I Love Him.” They are also wearing a dark pink floppy cap with a peacock’s feather stuck in it.

Binx is a very short moth faerie, with brown moth wings folded at their back. She has dark purple, short-ish messy hair and purple eyes. She is dressed in dark purple and bronze, with detailing like damselfly wings. Her ears are medium-sized and pointed, and she also has fluffy moth feelers. She is covered in pinkish blotches on her cheeks and shoulders, and her skin is otherwise light brown. Their eyebrows are styled in dots, and they are wearing purple lipstick and a paperclip as a hair clip. The question marks around them are purple, and resemble streaks of paint.

The tailor shop is darkened, cast in a blue hue with only vague shapes behind the foursome. Shafts of light come through on Hob’s and Rue’s sides, leaving Andhera and Binx in shadow.

/end id

#kp hob #delloso de la rue #binx choppley #andhera of the unseelie #ruehob #battlemaster of ceremonies #a court of fey and flowers #acofaf spoilers #d20 art #dimension 20 #image described #my art #things i made #fortpolio

[calabria-mediterranea]

Sirens of Greek Myth Were Bird-Women, Not Mermaids

Bottle-askos in the shape of a siren (2nd half 6th century BC) from Locri / Southern Italy's Calabria. National Museum of Magna Graecia (Reggio Calabria, Italy).

In the wine-dark expanse of the Mediterranean Sea, far from the halls of civilization, there was once a small island—or so Homer, the famed poet of Ancient Greece, wrote in his epic The Odyssey. No buildings occupied its flowery meadows; no fisherman worked its shores. Those who passed in their black ships heard only voices, twining over the windless waves, singing a song that promised knowledge of all things. Once they heard it, they were enchanted; they had no choice but to land and seek out the singers. Those who did never left the island; their bodies remained, rotting amid the flowers, for none who heard the Sirens' song could escape it.

The story of the Sirens has inspired writers, poets, and artists for millennia. But somewhere along the way their form was confused. Today, Sirens are almost always represented as voluptuous mermaids, whose beauty and sexuality lure men to their deaths. But the Classical Greeks understood the Sirens differently: as bird-women, creatures that Mediterranean cultures traditionally associated with hidden knowledge.

Sirens first appear in the literary record with the Odyssey (written around 750 BCE) in a segment that’s much briefer than you’d think considering the cultural impact of these mystical, singing creatures. It goes like this: Odysseus, warned by the enchantress Circe of the danger posed by the Sirens’ song, orders his crew to stuff their ears with wax. But, curious to a fault, he has himself bound to the ship’s mast so he can listen without flinging himself into the sea. The Sirens promise him tales of all that had occurred during the war at Troy, and everywhere else besides; enchanted, he begs his crew to release him. He rants, raves, and threatens, but to no avail. His crew sails on until the song fades in the distance, and so saves his life.

Homer doesn’t describe the Sirens’ physical appearance in his epic poem, Wilson says. But in ceramic paintings and tomb sculptures from the time of writing, and centuries after, Sirens were usually depicted with taloned feet, feathered wings, and a beautiful human face. The bird-body of the Siren is significant to Wilson: In the eyes of traditional peoples all across Europe, birds were often graced with an otherworldliness associated with gods, spirits, and omens.

They inhabit the water, the air, and the earth. They’re also associated with song; they have voices that are not human voices, and kinds of movement that are not the same as human kinds of movement.

The Sirens’ role in tomb art is particularly telling. In ancient Mediterranean and Middle Eastern cultures—as far back as 7,000 years ago—birds were often depicted carrying spirits to the underworld. In Southern Italy's Calabria, archaeologists unearthed several Greek askos (unguentary vessel) in shape of sirens, most commonly found in tombs.

Bronze askos in the shape of a siren (5th century BC) from Crotone, Calabria, Italy - Archaeological Museum of Crotone.

Jump ahead a few millennia to 1,550 BCE, by which time Ba-birds, depictions of departing souls as human-faced birds, began appearing in Egypt. That connection between birds and dead souls seems to have then hopped over to Greece: Writing in the 5th century BCE, the playwright Euripides described the Sirens as at the beck and call of Persephone, one of the rulers of the underworld, while other writers identified the Sirens as rivals and dark echoes of the Muses, those goddesses of creativity.

These are the Sirens the Ancient Greeks would have recognized: bird creatures of the underworld, bridging the human world and what lies beyond. The Sirens—and their fateful songs—then offered a glimpse behind the veil, a chance to hear how earthly glories would echo in eternity. The question of what song the Sirens sing, what is this forbidden knowledge, what's wrong with it, what's the temptation—the text leaves a lot of open space there. Therein lies the seduction.

Yet today, mermaids or beautiful sea nymphs replace the dark, winged Sirens of ancient times.

It is during the Middle Ages that the image of the siren began its shift from bird-woman to mermaid . With the transformation of the siren's image, the attributes associated with female monsters shifted. This suggests a change in the traits that were considered monstrous in women. The siren's movement from a frightening bird-woman to a beautiful mermaid represents female beauty becoming monstrous. Throughout the Middle Ages sirens increasingly represented a male fear of female seduction, suggesting a growing fear of female sexuality.

For medieval Christians, sirens were heavily associated with female sin.

However it happened, the identification of Sirens with mermaids seems to have affected later translations of the Odyssey, and ultimately common knowledge of Sirens. Translators in the 19th and 20th centuries cast the Sirens in a sexualized light. In one prose translation, the Sirens speak of “the sweet voice from our lips,” despite the word στομάτων directly translating to the less sensual “mouths.” Another adds flowery descriptors of “each purling note/like honey twining/from our lips.” But unlike the Odyssey’s other island temptresses, Circe and Calypso, the Sirens get no admiring description of their faces or hair. Only their voice is described, and their field of bones and flowers.

That’s a pretty strong indicator that the Sirens are not meant to be read as offering a sexual temptation. You can kiss lips; mouths devour.

Folklore and mythology move on, given enough time. Today, the Siren is just another word for mermaid, and is likely to remain so. But there’s something richly thematic about the Sirens of Classical Greece that deserves to be remembered: in-between creatures on a lonely island, floating between the boundaries of life and death, and offering an irresistible song of both. Water-temptresses are a dime a dozen; the Sirens offer wisdom.

Follow us on Instagram, @calabria_mediterranea

#sirens #calabria #homer #italy #italia #south italy #southern italy #mediterranean #mediterranean sea #the odyssey #ancient greece #greek #greek art #art #terracotta #greek mythology #greek myth #underworld #mermaids #mythological creature #magna graecia #magna grecia #locri #folklore #mythology #siren #mermaid #crotone

[tan1shere]

Bitter Sweet

Ellie williams x fem reader !

Summary: you're the sweetest soul around Jackson, perfect girlfriend, perfect friends. Everything seems to be perfect but it isn't. You get bullied, but no one sees it. You hide your feelings until one day it gets really bad

A/n: just thought of this in bed, I'm feeling a lil insecure myself so i hope you girlies get warm fuzzies at this cute lil fic (I haven't proof read this yet so- if there's any mistakes pretend I'm an amazing speller 🥰)

Warnings: none just fluff really. Reader is insecure about body, so maybe if it triggers you or you don't want to cry or I dunno, just thought I'd mention :) kinda angst??? But also not-? Body shaming-? (Do not condone whatsoever. But I relate a tiny bit- sadly- anyways)

Masterlist

You enjoyed days like these, the sunshine kisses your beautiful bronze skin, the slight tan arising from the beautiful summer air. You were currently attending to your garden, listening to all the critters making their pretty musical songs. When you get a tap on your shoulder startling you. You stand up and look to find your girlfriend, Ellie looming over you. You get up fanning out your skirt from any dirt. "Sorry angel. Didn't mean to give you a fright." You smile at her. "No no it's alright." You speak softly going to kiss her. "What have you got planned for today?" She swipes a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

"Just picking out some flowers for my new vase." You smile brightly at her. She returns that smile, looking around at your garden. "How about you Els." You ask going to grab some of the flowers and heading inside. "Me, Dina, Jesse, and a few others were going to go out later and ofcourse I'm asking you to tag along." You weren't a very outgoing person, you kept to yourself. You knew Jesse and Dina, although you aren't one hundred percent comfortable around them. You stuck close to Ellie, always. She was your rock. "Uhhh maybe." You go over to your sink, her following close behind. "You'll be with me baby I'll make sure everything's ok."

You contemplate. "Maybe Els. I dunno I'm not use to New people." She goes closer to you. "I know I know, but I really want you there. Please?" You think more, really not sure. "I guess it couldn't hurt." You smile slightly. She smiles more. "Awesome I'll come pick you up later." She kisses your cheek, leaving you to your thoughts as she leaves out the door. You didn't have a good feeling about this.

Few hours had passed and it was almost the time Ellie was suppose to pick you up. You were just looking in the mirror you constantly wore skirts and cute blouses. You examined your body, your stomach, thighs, arms. Even if you aren't big or anything you still feel awful about your body. Stretch marks, your pale skin. You wanted to cry. If you were completely honest you just wanted to stay home. But seeing Ellie so happy made you happy. You get up to a knock on the door, going and opening it. "You look beautiful." She says smiling at you. Lies. You knew she was just being kind. You never really believed her when she'd compliment you. You just couldn't.

"Where are we going?" She leads you out. "Dinas, she's having it at hers." "And how many people will be there?" You ask nervous. "Uhh maybe like 10 at most." You sigh. She was so outgoing, so enthusiastic, knew everyone and anyone. You don't know what she even saw in you. You were so different. "We don't have to be there for long." She nods with a tiny smile. You nod back. Still not even wanting to leave in the first place. Your bed sounds so much more comfortable right now.

Once you're at Dinas, she greets you by the door. "Hey you two, come in." You both step inside hearing some music and voices. You stay close behind Ellies tall figure like a puppy dog. "Thanks Dee." She smiles at Dina, going into the kitchen to get a drink. You kept on following, when some giggling girls walking past, caught your attention. One looked you up and down. And definitely not in a good way. They all walk on by grabbing their own drinks. You felt queasy. "So we could just chill in here, maybe dance." You just nod along to her words. This was going to be a long night.

You had just told Ellie you needed to use the bathroom, heading down a hallway, full of drunk teens. The smell was putrid, some even making out. Once you approached the bathroom you notice the same girl from earlier and her little group. You decide on whether or not you should speak up, or hold this unbearable pee until you get home. "U-uhm.. excuse me.." Your voice was weak, frightened of these strangers. "Oh I'm sorry, did you say something?" The main one spat. One of her friends snickering. "I need to use the bathroom.." You didn't want to make eye contact. You couldn't.

"Sorry but you might want to speak up. Can't quite hear you when you talk like a toddler." You go silent. "Still can't hear you." She smirks. You really don't know what to do. Should you leave? "Well come on, spit it out. And this time, try not to speak like a my little pony character." Its the way you caught onto what she was saying right away. That made you want to run, but you felt glued, like you couldn't. "Aren't you Ellie Williams girlfriend?" You look at the blonde infront of you. "U-uh yeah." You stutter. "Pft, I have no idea what she sees in you. She could do way, better." Her friends laugh yet again. "I mean come on, you follow her around like a lost dog. Think that lil bit you did just then was the first time I've heard you speak." You go to leave, just wanting to go home.

But she grabs your wrist. "Oh look girls, she's even the size of a toddler." She fake pouts as they giggle. You hated how tiny your wrists were. You hated it. You hated how small your hands were. You never held Ellies hand, you were afraid she'd view you differently. "Damn, do you even eat." You blink at her. You ate perfectly fine. You don't even know why you look like this. "I- i-" She let's go. "Y-you." She mocks with a snicker. "Go back to being a lil follower to your girlfriend. You pathetic twig." You felt tears threatening to spill at any moment now. And all you could do was run. "Careful you might break something!" She calls out, turning to laugh with her friends. Bitches.

You ran out of that horrid house, tears streaming down your face, sprinting to yours. Feeling your eyes blur as you slam your door and sink to the floor. You let it all out now. How can someone be so cruel. But oh they were so incredibly right. That's why it hurt so much. They saw what you saw. The truth. Suddenly there was a banging on the door to be found with Ellies worried voice. "Babe, open up please." You sniffle. "J-just go home Ellie.." There was a pause. "You know damn well I'm not doing that, please let me in." Your shakey frame moves out of the way to let her in.

"Hey hey whats going on with you-" She goes to reach for your arms but you immediately make sure that doesn't happen. She feels her heart break. "Y-you don't wanna touch that.." She furrows her brows in utter confusion. "Baby what are you on about." If she wasn't worried before she really fucking is now. "No.. you- you don't wanna be with some twig wh-who can't even talk to people properly." You sob out feeling your body ache. "Babe where is this coming fro-" You look at her. "My brain. Everyone, you-" She shakes her head. "Woah woah woah. Calm down, I don't know what's going on but you need to breathe." You cry more. "I- I can't.. my brain won't shut up, I'm ugly Ellie i- I am.. and everyone sees that."

She was shocked but that slowly turns into a tiny giggle. She moves closer to you grabbing your face gently. "Do you have any idea how naturally gorgeous you are." You look at her still feeling tears. You know she's caught on. "Whoever said these things are clearly big fucking cunts." You were shocked by the language she used, but you let out a tiny dry laugh, feeling your throat and eyes hurt from the crying. "And if it's who I think it is, there's one thing they need that you don't." You listen, wondering what that was. "They need makeup. You don't. And that is something you should be truly proud of." You melt at her lovely words. She rubs her thumb under your eye gently. Wiping away those pesky tears.

"Your natural beauty is my favorite thing in this whole world, so please. Never change. And it's not like you're unhealthy. You eat often and good. When they're over there, eating crap, getting sick. If anything they're the ones who should be vividly insecure. And they are, jealousy." She looks at every inch of your face admiringly. "Bitches." You blurt out making her smile so big. "Yeah, bitches." She kisses your nose. "Please never change because I fell inlove with my natural sweet baby. You're beautiful just the way you are angel. And I will remind you every single day. I'll kiss everything you don't like. And I'll do that everyday." You lean up on your tiptoes to kiss her. She kisses back sweetly.

"Why don't we get into bed and watch a movie, sound good?" You nod at her. "I love you Els." "I love you too my precious girl."

A/n: If you are struggling with your insecurities please know you're never alone in that and I hope this made you realize how everyone's perfect in their own way. I may not see that all the time in myself. But I do know my worth <3 (also not saying that makeups horrible I literally wear it often, but no one needs it to truly feel pretty. I enjoy doing it because it's fun!)

#elliewilliams #ellie the last of us #ellie tlou #ellie williams #ellie x fem reader #ellie x reader #ellie williams fluff

[superprincesspea]

Courted by the Dragon

Chapter 6 - Total Annihilation

Aemond Targaryen is both the cause and witness to the greatest humiliation of your life. You would rather die than see him again. Yet summer at court and the precipice of civil war have other ideas.

Masterlist

~~~

You meet with the queen every day for the next three days.

Her favourite Cyvasse board is in her private garden, under a white stone arbour which is covered in burgundy roses, and that is precisely where you are sitting when the hunt returns. 

You can hear the fanfare announcing their arrival all the way from the bronze gates, and the noise must be ear splitting to those closest to it, but you’re far enough away to enjoy the tune, thinking how fun it would be to have your arrival marked with such ceremony.

You stand, expecting the queen to do the same but she remains.  

“We should continue our game,” she says, in no hurry to rush and welcome the men back to court.  

"Will they not expect you?” 

“Of course. But we cannot always give men what they expect,” she replies a little wickedly and you laugh, returning to your seat.

When Aemond arrives in the garden sometime later, he struts into the arbour in his usual arrogant manner. His dark outline looking decidedly stark against all the white stone and delicate flowers.

Stupidly, it hadn’t even occurred to you that he might come to the queen like this, and you curse yourself for not leaving when you had the chance.

Your only saving grace is that he doesn’t seem to notice you, his attention is entirely focused on his mother and, with your red gown, you’re trying your best to blend in with the roses.  

“Welcome back,” she says cheerfully, holding out her hand.

Aemond bows, offering a soft smile and a light kiss across the back of her knuckles. 

“Did Aegon kill the stag?” she asks, and a conspiratory look flashes between their eyes. 

“Naturally ,” he replies, and you don’t have to ask to know that Aemond did everything but take the killing blow.  

You wonder if you would be so kind to Cassandra, doing all in your power to make her look like the better sister, then again, there’s little you do which outshines her.  

She is tall and graceful with impeccable manners and so many accomplishments. She can sew, sing and play any instrument she turns her hand to. In fact, Cassandra would basically be perfect if she wasn’t so shy, not that shyness really mattered here. Most men in Kings Landing seemed to prefer a woman who had little to say, and you could never be accused of that.  

Still, you don’t really want to say much right now and you’re wondering if you can somehow sneak away. Yet before you formulate any sort of a half-hatched idea, Aemond’s attention turns to you. His smile quickly receding and, from the look in his eye, he seems surprised indeed to see you sitting in such private company with his mother.

You have to admit, you’d silently wondered if it was Aemond who had somehow orchestrated your friendship with her. Though you were not sure to what end.  

However, from his furrowed brow and the tight line of his jaw, you can see that it was certainly not his idea. Nor is he pleased to see you.  

“You know the Lady Baratheon,” Alicent says, gesturing to you. 

"We may have spoken once or twice.” 

You meet his eye. Once or twice. An interesting answer for a man who has seen you nude, but you welcome his restraint wholeheartedly.  

“Well , are you going to make your move or not?” Alicent asks and your eyes snap back to hers, then to the Cyvasse piece hovering in your hand. 

You place it down and Aemond moves to stand behind his mother, so he can see the board from her angle.  

"She’ll kill your king in three turns,” he says quickly, as though he’s been studying the game for a while, yet he’s only given it a moments glance. 

Alicent’s eyes dart around the board. 

“He’s right,” she admits, meeting your stare, “you’re getting better.” 

"Your Grace is an excellent teacher.” 

"Then you should play Aemond,” she says with so much pride, craning her head to look adoringly at her son. 

“Perhaps another time,” you reply a little curtly and with far less enthusiasm than she’s expecting.  

A well born lady should say ‘yes, of course, I would love to play with the prince’.  But you’d rather spend an entire afternoon embroidering cornflowers than say something like that. 

“It won’t take long,” Aemond decides with so much confidence that the queen gasps. 

Perhaps his arrogance should have stood as a warning, but it only seems to bait you into doing exactly what you didn’t want to do. Play .  

Biting your tongue to keep yourself from saying anything inflammatory, you move the pieces back into their starting position while Aemond swaps places with the queen.  

It's your move first and you play your favourite opening, one you have won with a few times before. And you’re feeling quietly confident for at least two whole seconds, before Aemond makes his turn, bringing his dragon right out into the middle of the board.  

Your heart jumps, confused, yet you play on, sticking to your original strategy and wanting to force him into a game you can recognise.  

Yet Aemond has a strategy of his own. Total annihilation. He steals your dragon with his second move, and you stare at the board a little blankly, feeling as though your legs have been swept from under your feet. 

The next two turns are the same. Fast and aggressive, forcing you to play more defensively than you’re used to and giving you little time to think. At least it feels like you don’t have much time.  

In reality, you have all the time in the world. What you don't have, is a shield from the way he’s looking at you. Or rather, studying you. Face to face and so close his leg brushes with yours beneath the table.  

You hold your breath, shifting away from him, your hand dallying between two pieces.  

You decide on the Heavy Horse and, just as you’re about to pick it up, he leans closer, catching your eye.  

“Interesting choice .”  

What does that mean? Your heart drums in your chest, your palms suddenly slick with nerves. Should you change your move? Or is he trying to trick you?  

Deciding to not let Aemond get too far into your head, you move the Heavy Horse and immediately regret your choice. But how are you supposed to think under such circumstances?  

With his leg brushing against yours for a second time, his eye grazing along your face, your neck, the soft v of your dress and right down to the tips of your fingers.  

The queen never looked at you like that , nor did her leg ever brush with yours. 

You meet his eye with as stern expression, but Aemond isn’t unsettled by stern looks, there is a dark smile pursed on his lips, and he seems to take great pleasure in stealing another piece, just as he is stealing all logical thought from your head.  

You sigh sharply, frustration clawing at your skin and, though he has seen you naked, this somehow feels worse. As though your very intellect is bare before him and he’s besting you at every turn. The most unpleasant part is, you can see yourself falling into the trap he’s setting, but it feels unstoppable, inevitable .  

Is this what it is like to spar with him? Does he look at his opponents with the same intensity, so they forget not only how to fight, but how to move altogether.  

If the queen wasn’t watching, you would walk away and never look back. Instead, your heart still racing, you move again, and again you regret it.  

He claims your Trebuchet and then your Light Horse.  

You meet his eye, and his face is the same, dark and satisfied. 

You decide right then, that if nothing else, you will take his Dragon and you do, sacrificing everything to claim it, right before he kills your King.  

You’ve lost track of how many turns it's been, but it can't have been many. Ten? Twelve? It felt like a hundred, yet it was certainly the shortest game you’ve ever played. 

“You are cruel,” Alicent scolds him, laughing softly at your expense, and you try to join her. Try to pretend it doesn’t matter that he won so easily. But it does.  

Why did he have to be so good at everything?  

Why does he always seem to have the upper hand?  

“You’ve spent too much time playing with my mother,” he says as though you care for his opinion. "You need to learn other styles, be more unpredictable.” 

"Then perhaps you should teach her,” Alicent suggests, and your heart stops just as Aemond snorts out a laugh of derision. 

“What makes you think I would want to do that ?” 

His words are so clipped and infuriatingly rude that your temper forces you to your feet, yet you remain in control of your tongue. 

The Queen doesn’t reply, she smiles, giving you both one last long look before she walks away. 

When she is gone, Aemond meets the stare you have been burning into the side of his face. 

You really shouldn’t let him annoy you as much as he does, but you can’t help it, your reactions feel completely out of your control, just like the game.  

“Did you ask her to say that ?” he says, and his tone is not exactly angry, but his eye is narrowed, as though you’ve done something wrong. 

“Ask her to say what ?” 

“For me to teach you.” 

You laugh, wondering if the question is a serious one. Wondering if he truly believes you’ve spent the last few days coaxing the Queen to force you into his attention.  

Is he completely insane?  

“Your Grace must have a very high opinion of himself if he imagines every lady in the Red Keep is begging for his company!” Maybe that was true for some of the others, but it certainly wasn’t for you.  

“So, you just happened to be here playing with my mother?” 

You huff, pushing the chair back so you can stand where there is more room for your temper, “how was I supposed to know the hunt would return today? And she invited me !” 

“Why?” 

“Why not?” you practically demand and, when he doesn’t answer, you continue. “Your grace should be rest assured that I would rather eat glass than spend another moment in his company.” 

Such harsh words should certainly not be exiting your mouth, and they should definitely be making him angrier. But the look in his eye only softens as he moves to stand beside you, a little too close for enemies.  

“Will you attend the concert tonight?” he asks, his tone much kinder than before but not kind enough to ease your temper.  

“Is that an invite ?” you say tartly. 

A smile escapes onto his face and, for once, he looks as though he’s not sure what to say.  

“My mother...” he begins, clearing his throat, “is not always as discerning as I, when it comes to... the ladies of court.” 

This seems a difficult truth for him to admit, but you have no sympathy, and laugh, pleased to imagine him pursued by desperate ladies and their Mama’s.  

“Perhaps she believes you need all the help you can get?”  

He huffs out a noise which almost sounds like a laugh, yet the dangerous look in his eye is anything but amused as he shifts closer, pinning you between the Cyvasse board and the inch of space which snakes between your bodies.  

“You think I don’t know how to seduce a woman?” he asks in a low voice, inclining his head as though he might brush his lips with yours. Yet he stops short of kissing, so only his breath inches across your lips, and you can almost taste him. Sweet, rich, like mead or honey cake.  

Your heart is stuttering as you lean back, practically sitting on the board, your gaze only daring to fix on his chest, where the Targaryen Sigil is emblazoned in black and gold.  

“Lucky for his grace, I believe your name will do all the seducing for you...” you say a little meekly before forcing yourself to meet his eye, “even if your manner might make a lady want to hurl herself from the highest tower of the keep.” 

His face, which had been so tight with tension, softens and he laughs taking pleasure in your criticism instead of offence. “But my name does not seduce the enigmatic Lady Baratheon?” 

“Should it?” you ask, instantly regretting the question. 

Aemond steps back thoughtfully, allowing you a little more room to breathe, though it doesn’t feel like enough.  

“I can think of nothing worse,” he says, and you feel a little bolder.  

“Then you will be pleased to know I dislike you, name and all.” 

When he smiles again, you think it might be quite impossible to offend an ego as large as the one he must have, and you know you should leave before making any more attempts. 

“So, which one is it?” he says, keeping in time with your steps as you move towards the door which leads from the garden. “Does my company make you want to eat glass or hurl yourself from the tower?” 

“Well ,” you faulter, laughing nervously and thinking you really should keep a better handle on your remarks. Cassandra would never say such a thing. “Since I shall be leaving court in less than two weeks, and I have no intention of ever returning. I believe I shall be forced to do neither.” 

“I am glad to hear it,” he concedes as you both wait for the guard to open the door. 

When you step through it, he remains in the garden but calls after you, “you didn’t answer my first question...” 

You turn back. “About the concert?”  

Aemond nods and the way he’s standing is so relaxed, his hand resting casually on the pommel of his sword, his foot braced on the stone step. It's as though you haven’t spent the past ten minutes telling him just how much you cannot bare him. 

“Hm ,” you say, as though you’re pondering a decision, when you already know that you have zero intention of attending the concert, just as you have zero intention of giving him a straight answer.  

Instead, you turn back towards the hall, leaving him to wonder and, though you really want to leave without looking back, you can’t resist one last glance.  

He’s still standing in the same way, watching your retreat, a slightly devilish smile inching into his cheeks at the return of your attention.  

You curse yourself. Stupid . You should have never looked back! 

#aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond fanfiction #aemond one eye #hotd aemond #hotd fanfic #house of the dragon #ewan mitchell #romance #female reader #enemies to lovers #aemond targaryen x oc #prince aemond

[reinaaleera]

For Jackie. Christmas 2023.

#jewelry #diy #earrings #silver #gold #bronze #natural stone #cabochon #opal #rhinestone #swarovski #stainless steel #flower #Czech beads #blue #white #red

[ax-cx]

INTOXICATING

Luke Castellan x Fem!OC

slight Pervy!Luke and Toxic!Luke

Warnings: swearing, heavy make out, mentions of slight stalking, super obsessed Luke, mention of drugs, flirting

Just pure fluffy love really

“You can’t keep dancing with the devil and ask why you’re still in hell.”

Intoxicating

adjective

- (of alcoholic drink or a drug) liable to cause someone to lose control of their faculties or behaviour.

- exhilarating or exciting.

- "an intoxicating sense of freedom"

Laila was intoxicating. Just looking at her made my mind run miles. Her beautiful brown hair, falling down over her shoulders. Her beautiful green eyes, glinting when she looks up at me. Her beautiful smile, contagious and bubbly.

Fuck man, I’m so done for. The way she says my name, gods help me.

“Luke.” soft, sweet and silky. Just imagine how it’d sound beneath- no shut up Luke. She’s perfect. Don’t ruin her.

“Yes sweetheart?” oh gods, stop looking at me like that dollface. Can’t you see me melting here?

“I need your help.” her cheeks reddened. Like strawberries and summer sun.

I can’t be this crazy for a girl, right? I’m just Luke. I’m the best swordsman at camp, son of Hermes, and a silly little Demeter girl can’t make me feel this way. Even though she picks flowers everywhere she goes, and the roses greet her like an old friend; even though the shrubs and plants seem to bloom brighter when she walks past, nature pouring from every pore of her pure soul.

“Of course Laila, what do you need?” my voice was shaky, of course it was. She was so fucking stunning my heart hurt. She gave me a headache and a high I couldn’t chase anywhere else. So I was her little servant instead.

She wanted help? Always. Can’t choose an outfit? Sweetheart you look perfect in blue. Someone giving her a hard time? I’ll fucking kill them. She wants food? I’ll get her anything. That bracelet’s cute? Bought it already.

I followed her like a wolf trailing behind a little lamb. All I wanted was her aura, her devilishly inducing soul. I’d do anything she asked. I’d burn the goddamn world to the ground. Just to make her happy. Anything to see her smile.

Chris told me I was obsessed. Maybe I am. Just a little. Just a lot. She takes up my every waking thought, tying up my mind in flowers and thorns, sweet smiles and sugary sounds. The way she walked. The way she talked.

I found myself hidden outside her window, looking in on her dressing once. Like a child outside a candy shop, my face was pressed to glass so hard I nearly fell through. The curves of her body, the scars on her knees, the freckles across her shoulders and clavicle. She rivalled Aphrodite, the fucking beauty she is.

“I need a new bikini and I don’t know which one to get.” fuck. How am I meant to hold myself back now? Surely she’s trying to kill me.

“Laila you look great in anything. But-“

“Blue’s your favourite colour, I know Luke, I know.” Laila I’m begging you, don’t put a blue bikini on, I might fuck up this perfect relationship. “So I picked out two blue ones but I don’t know which ones better.”

Oh god. I could feel my blood going south already. I watched as she slipped into the changing room, drawing the curtain, metal scraping metal. I listened as she shuffled, watched her clothes hit the floor and the shadows of her curves pulling the material on. I hated how long I waited, I was dying to see her.

I was dying to see my girl.

Metal scraping metal, and a soft whisper. “Luke?” my eyes met perfection.

Shamelessly letting my eyes wander, the blue fabric was tastefully perfect on her sun-bronzed skin. I’d forever be grateful for Apollo for how he made her shine. Her hips, her breasts, smattered with freckles and battle scars, marred in its most perfect form. Glowing and radiant. A princess in its finest definition. My beautiful drug. Little shells and gold trinkets were looped into the mesh, woven into the blue and trailing down her ribs and thighs.

Her hair was tucked behind her ears, her face on full display. Strawberries and summer sun dancing across her cheeks. Playful freckles smeared on her skin, full lips pulled into a meek grin. I stood up, and took her chin by the finger, lifting her embarrassed eyes to meet mine. I saw her curl in on herself.

“Laila you don’t need to be ashamed. You look great.” great. A disgusting understatement for how ethereal she looked. Aphrodite worked her magic and worked hard on her. The word felt filthy on my tongue. A princess like her needed to be praised and showered in the filthiest compliments, degraded by affection and ruined by attention. She glowed, and the world stopped.

I couldn’t hear a thing but my heartbeat. Racing, trying to tear from my chest and embrace hers. Her eyes gleamed, and I felt my resolve crumble. My confidence, my senses, my mind and soul falling to bare parts of who I am.

A man so effortlessly infatuated with a woman.

Losing all my thoughts, all my being, I melted into her. I gave up, finally leaning into my instincts and pressing my lips to hers.

They say your first kiss with a person you love is like fireworks. Your lips ignite and everything feels right.

It’s a lie. It’s like a fucking war. Winning and losing, fighting and failing. Kissing the girl I’m completely besotted with. Fuck. Her lips were heaven on earth, soft and plump, the perfect fit to mine. Gods this girl was meant for me. I truly must’ve been blessed, for finding a girl that just fits effortlessly, lips the missing piece to my fucked up puzzle, is a one in a billion girl.

I reluctantly pulled my lips from hers, immediately missing the warmth that bloomed in my chest, the warmth of her lips.

“Laila I’m so sorry.” she blinked, once, twice, still processing what is just done. I’d fucked it, I’d royally fucked it. “I couldn’t, I just couldn’t help my-“

My breath cut short, her fingers pulled on my belt loops, pulling me in, roping me further into her spell. She kissed me. Crashing our lips together, all teeth and tongue, all love and war. My perfect girl perfectly kissing me. My eyes were shut so tight, sight a pathetic sense when compared to her taste, her smell, her feel. Like the world was put right.

My hands swallowed her hips, kneading the supple bronze flesh. She was gold personified. Glowing, valuable and just stunning. Her skin was putty in my hands, the perfect golden feeling against my calloused hands. Soft and untouched. All mine to ruin.

I almost felt bad. Touching something so celestial, with my broken and damaged hands. With my plans and my anger. With my disgust and falsified details. With my wrath and rage. With my betrayal and my suffering. But I didn’t care. My care was out the window as soon as she kissed me. I finally got to be selfish for once. Thinking only of myself for once.

She was pure sugar. Addicting, intoxicating. Like my own personal cocaine.

Her hands were woven into my curls, like the soft curves of a tapestry twisting a timeless tale. This is a moment to remember for as long as I live, something I don’t ever want to forget.

She pulled her lips from mine, and my lips ached for the contact again. “So this one?” she grinned, her beautiful beautiful smile on her beautiful beautiful lips.

“I’ll get you both princess.”

My beautiful drug.

#fanfic #fanfiction #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #percy pjo #percy series #pjo #pjo fandom #toxic love #toxic relationship #obsessive love #actually obsessive #love #lovers

[bebemoon]

look for the name: TAMZIN

selkie "the carol" theater dress w/ layers of cotton petticoat, drawstring bustling, and lace trim

daisyandstella (on etsy) bridal veil headpiece w/ green foliage, flower buds and bronze metallic tendrils, c. 192o's

theodosias_inferno (on ig) "a personal pair of heels made with victorian tapestry and 19th century silk fringe"

loveshackfancy "forever in love" eau de parfum

stonehart jewelry "eucalyptus" barbell earring in gold-plate silver

#tamzin #tamsin #name #request #outfit #hope you like ! #fae #pink #green #gold #antique #veil #selkie #dress #lace #daisyandstella #etsy #192o's #theodosias_inferno #ig #footwear #victorian #loveshackfancy #edp #perfume #stonehart jewelry #earring #jewellry #queue

[adore-laur]

FOXTAIL

— two lovers being blissfully domestic while living in the countryside of france 🪴

——

LOIRE VALLEY, FRANCE

The melodic humming of his wife faintly echoes throughout the greenhouse kitchen, her voice hidden under the more pronounced noises of glass jars clinking together and the faucet running.

As Harry hunches over the granite countertop and gingerly trims the miniature bonsai tree he proudly grew himself, his ears tune into Nadine's movements. He's acutely aware of the soft padding of her slippers against the tiles and the slight graze of her robe against his sweater vest whenever she passes by. It's as if she's some soundless angel who doesn't like to make her presence known yet can't help but enthrall everyone with her heavenly poise.

He will often glance up while snipping away with his garden shears and follow her figure as she gracefully floats around the kitchen and pickles various vegetables that will eventually be donated to the orphanage on the outskirts of town. The cucumber she's currently slicing is from one of his many gardens on the property. They are Harry's pride and joy. He plants abundant seeds every season, then tends to the soil and sprouts until he can harvest them. Their primary use is to be thrown into either jars or on dinner plates, resulting in whatever his wife wishes to cleverly concoct.

"Nadi, can you please fill this up for me?" Harry asks, fidgeting with the fragile pump of the plant mister in his hand.

In a second, she's by his side, carefully taking the empty glass bottle from his grasp. "Hot or cold water?"

He smiles dotingly at her lack of knowledge about succulent maintenance. She has more expertise relating to culinary uses for fruits, vegetables, herbs, and spices, while he takes care of the botanical aspect.

"Lukewarm since we've had sunny weather lately," he replies as he checks how dry the compacted soil in the pot is. "Thank you."

She nods and heads to the sink, turning the handle to the left. Harry pauses what he's doing and admires how her smooth, bronzed skin and silky black hair glimmer in the natural light pouring through the greenhouse panels. He often finds himself wanting to splay his hands on every part of her warm body and let his ceaseless love seep into her, sweet and absorbent like caramel drizzle on a dessert. Whenever she innately reacts to his touch, it melts him into a puddle of molasses the same color as the deep pools of her irises. And when the sun hits her brown eyes just right, he becomes entranced. She's his saccharine daydream.

Once Harry is satisfied with the trimming of his beloved bonsai, he moves on to the second task he planned to finish this morning. A woven basket sits beside him on the floor, holding a bundle of eucalyptus and myrtle leaves he broke off from the trees in the front yard. He had already cut a piece of gold wire to form the brittle blades around it, but he didn't know where to go from there. He wants to make a leaf crown for Nadine. However, he's never attempted a crown with leaves before, only with the lily of the valley and jasmine flowers he grows by the windowsill in their bedroom. The two white blossoms represent femininity and sensuality, a perfect blend of his wife's soul.

"You are standing so still, lover," Nadine says, setting down the filled plant mister. "What are you doing? What are those leaves for?"

"You ask too many questions," he teases with a prolonged kiss on her forehead.

She frowns halfheartedly. "Laisse-moi entrer dans ton jardin de secrets."

Harry's neck flushes from the way she effortlessly switched languages. "Seulement si tu me laisses entrer dans ton pot de secrets," he murmurs against her temple, jerking his chin toward her glass jars all neat in a row.

"I'm making pickled cucumber and carrot salad for lunch since I have leftover scraps," she says enthusiastically.

Running his fingertips through her hair, he twirls the short strands and says, "I'm making a leaf crown for you."

"Why?"

"Why not? Are you worried it won't be as good as the ones the kids make you at the orphanage?"

Nadine doesn't answer and just stands on her tiptoes, wrapping her arms around his shoulders to pull him down for a slow kiss. Harry exhales blissfully and relaxes in her hold, placing his hands on her waist and moving his mouth against hers. He could kiss her lychee-colored lips for eternity if possible.

When she separates her lips from his with a wet pop, Harry begins swaying her to the mellifluous lullaby from the summer birds and wind chimes outside the greenhouse. He grabs her left hand and interlocks his fingers with hers, his other hand tenderly cupping her cheek. A sunrise dance happens frequently, whether it's in the kitchen, bedroom, or garden. Most of the time, they don't even involve music or the ambiance of nature, simply their hushed voices and synchronized heartbeats filling the space.

"Are you planting anything new today?" Nadine asks quietly.

Harry smears another kiss on her lips. "Just some arugula and parsley."

What she doesn't know is that yesterday while she took a trip down to the valley by herself, he planted her a bed of foxtail lilies in a concealed flower bed behind the tall grape trellises. He precisely calculated when they would bloom into tapered pink and yellow spikes so they could be her birthday surprise when late spring rolled around.

Nadine tilts her head to the side and smiles dreamily. "Can I watch you do it?"

"I'll let you if you smoke with me in the bath later."

She raises her thick eyebrows. "You want to get high before noon?"

"My body will be aching from crouching, and I want to relax before your family visits tomorrow."

"Of course, mon chéri."

Harry hums contently and strokes the pad of his thumb across her plump bottom lip. "Let me finish your crown, and then you can ogle at me in the garden, oui?"

——

"Sacré bleu, Nadi!" Harry shouts dramatically when she walks through the patio door completely nude.

Her curves and soft skin look ravishing under the European sky, and the sunbeams gloriously cast upon every stretch mark and blemish. He notices she's wearing his misshapen leaf crown from where he sits naked in the outdoor bathtub, reading yesterday's newspaper with a lit joint perched between his fingertips. Thankfully, no neighbors can see them in their vulnerable state since the backyard is closed off with a high wooden fence shaded by clustering chestnut and poplar trees.

Nadine gasps and kneels next to the tub, stealing the joint from him and taking a quick hit. She beautifully exhales two rings of smoke before saying, "You started without me."

"Pardonne-moi, ma reine," Harry says lowly as he flings the newspaper onto the grass and grabs her wrist to help her into the warm water. He plucked some red petals off the nearby rose bush to let float on the surface, and also brought out some bars of natural soaps Nadine handmade with excess fruit peels and herbs. She's craftier than him, but he thinks they make a good pair. He grows the plants, and she makes use of them.

Nadine's back meets his bare chest, and every muscle in his body instantly eases with the pure and healing touch of her skin. He spent hours in the sunlit garden planting autumn seeds and sneakily tending to the foxtail lilies, so the tendons in his shoulder blades feel inflamed, and his hands are decorated with new calluses. The dirt under his fingernails had been scrubbed clean while he waited for Nadine, yet there were still scrapes and aching muscles he wanted her to take care of. He's not embarrassed to admit that he likes to be babied by her.

"I brought your razor and shaving cream," Nadine tells him, setting the two objects on the edge of the tub.

Harry's lips downturn with confusion. "For you or for me?"

She turns in his arms to face him, bending her legs crisscross applesauce style. "You, miteux."

"Translation, please."

"Scruffy," she whispers like it's confidential.

A whiny laugh escapes his mouth. "Thought you liked it," he drawls, stroking circles onto her hips.

"Too itchy when you kiss me." She takes another hit before passing the joint over to him.

"Like this?" he asks before leaning forward to rub his cheek against hers and puckering multiple kisses against her skin, making a high-pitched laugh bless his ears.

"Oui, like that!" she expresses through giggles and a wide smile.

He lightly nips her jaw and murmurs, "What do I get in return for letting you shave my face?"

Nadine chews on the inside of her cheek, her dark eyes dancing over his entire body. "I think," she says while placing a wet rose petal on his collarbone, "you know exactly what I'll give you."

Harry swallows, his eyes fluttering shut. "Is that right, my darling?"

"That's right. You need to behave right now, though, or I might nick you."

"What a shame that would be, hmm?" His hands flex on her hips. "Can't go ruining my pretty face."

She cups water in her palms and pours it over the petal on his skin until it delicately falls off. "Your reflection in the bathwater is turning you into Narcissus."

"That's funny, considering your crown makes you look like Echo," he says, tucking a loose eucalyptus leaf under the wire. Are you going to start repeating everything I say?"

"No, but I'm obsessed with you like she was.

Who knew mythology could be so erotic? Harry feels his cock throb and harden as he softly kisses her neck and mumbles, "Such a sweet girl."

Nadine has an amount of self-control beyond comprehension because she suddenly scoots back and picks up the razor and container of shaving cream without another word. She begins applying a layer of the foamy cream on his scruff, spreading it on his neck and Adam's apple.

After inhaling from the joint, Harry blows the smoke toward the afternoon sky and casually rests his arms on the tub's edge as his wife shaves the stubble above his lips. She looks adorable with a concentrated furrow to her eyebrows and her tongue poking out slightly. Her body leans close to him, the curve of her breasts touching his chest and the tip of her nose grazing his own every so often. Her unoccupied hand tilts his chin to the side so she can work on his cheek. The soothing nature of her movements and the warm water engulfing his sore body feel more delightful than the weed that permeates his lungs and senses.

"Don't fall asleep on me, moonflower."

Harry's eyes blink open and blearily focus on her. He didn't realize he nodded off. A lazy smile makes its way onto his face when he sees her eyes rimmed with red from the joint she apparently took for herself while he wasn't paying attention.

"Tu me rends le bon genre de somnolent," he replies with a slur of impeding tiredness.

Nadine washes off the remnants of shaving cream on the right side of his freshly smoothed cheek. "You ramble such nonsense when you're high," she says, quickly finishing shaving the rest of his face. "Excusez moi. I'm not high… yet."

"You are. Know how I can tell?"

Harry settles his hands on her thighs. "Humor me, sunflower."

"I know because you are hard, and I haven't even done anything yet," Nadine whispers in his ear.

She's not Echo; she's the goddess of love. His Aphrodite, ironically surrounded by rose petals and wearing a crown adorned with myrtle leaves, sets the razor in a safe place under the tub and then straddles his thighs. She knows exactly how to make him weak putty in her hands.

Extinguishing the lit end of the joint in the water, Harry flips his palms up in invitation and says, "Do your worst, dove."

——

The euphoric high reaches Harry's fingertips as he touches the blades of grass he lies on. To the touch, they feel as soft as a cloud. To the eye, they are feathery and verdant.

The blue and white striped shirt he put on after the bath warps due to his spinning mind, the lines bending and blurring until they make his eyes cross. He and Nadine went through three joints each. Maybe four. Either way, the aftermath of sex while high and then proceeding to get higher has Harry feeling like he's levitating outside of his body. Although he can't complain when Nadine lies beside him, laughing infectiously over something he doesn't remember saying mere seconds ago.

"What did I do?" he asks, his speech slower and more drawled from the weed that passed his tongue.

"You were going on about" — she pauses for a moment to regain her breath — "about your dream that you had last night."

"Oh." He rubs his eyes and begins giggling over whatever is making her so happy. "Where did I… what part did I leave off at?"

"The part where, apparently, our thirty nonexistent children were blooming in the garden, and they were all wailing so much, but the only way to get them to stop was to water them."

"Shit, that's right. What a bizarre dream."

Nadine reaches over and pinches his stomach. "Could you imagine having to take care of thirty children? Oh, mon dieu!"

"We could do it," he says with faux confidence. "Babies are sort of like plants, right?"

She snorts and replies, "I would rethink that statement."

He's thinking ahead and can't stop the thought from crawling across the crevices of his brain like scandent stems. "One day, we'll have little snap peas running around the garden," he muses, the words sounding far away when he speaks them.

"Snap peas, like… bébés?" Nadine asks for clarity.

Harry looks over at her, his heart melting like candle wax at the innocence that laces her question. "Oui. Tant de bébés."

"Where is my say in this?" she asks with a prod to his sock-covered foot.

He smirks, rubbing his eyes again. "You have all the say in the world, dove. Just tell me when, and I'll drop everything for you."

"When what?"

"When you're ready for bébés."

He sees it. He wants it. He needs it. He feels a deep yearning for the possibility of them having Nadine's eyes of maple syrup and heart of sweet honey. If they'll laugh in three caught breaths like her and have her lustrous hair, or if they'll cackle obnoxiously like him and inherit his wild curls. He'd like either outcome. He'd like it a lot.

"I think I will be ready in the spring," Nadine says. "I do not want to be pregnant in the winter."

"How come?" Harry murmurs, dizzily rolling over and nuzzling his face into the velvety skin of her stomach, which is exposed below her cropped tank top.

"I don't thrive in the cold, so it would be a living nightmare for me," she says, tilting his face upwards. "And I wouldn't be able to show off my baby bump if it was cold all the time."

"Nadi baby," he says while letting her poke his dimples, "do you realize that if you get pregnant in the spring, you'll be ready to pop during wintertime?"

"I can't do math when I'm high. Too many months." She uses her strength to switch positions and lay on top of him, squishing his cheeks, her favorite thing to do. "But you have to promise me a bébé in the spring."

He hooks his right pinky with hers and says, "The foxtail lilies should be in full bloom by then. They'll be our good luck charm."

He didn't mean to say that out loud, and now he just utterly ruined the surprise. Damn those three or four joints.

"Hmm? Foxtail?" Nadine bemuses, tracing the slope of his nose with her pointer finger.

Sighing to himself, he knows there's no faultless way to dig himself out of the hole he created. "For you," Harry says shyly. "I planted a bed of foxtail lilies for you that will hopefully bloom in time for your birthday."

She goes silent, spreading her hand on his cheek and parting her lips. Harry wishes he could have kept the details of his romantic gesture locked away in his conscious mind, but the way she's looking at him right now makes the mistake worth it.

"My heart," she whispers sweetly, pressing a long and tender kiss to his lips. "My love. You did that for me?"

"It was supposed to be a surprise," he says with cheeks the color of the peonies by the patio.

"Hey, listen. Don't fret about it, all right?"

"Okay. Oui."

Nadine rests her head on his chest. "Oui."

"Oui oui oui," he repeats with a ticklish breath in her ear during each staccato syllable.

"T'es chiant," she grumbles, pushing his face away.

Harry cradles the back of her head, resting his chin on top of it and soaking in her presence she graciously allows him to cherish. What a wonder to be able to hold a daydream in his arms.

Idyllic paintings could be inspired by her ethereal face and figure, especially when accented by her smile in the sunshine. She could be sculpted and hidden at the back of the most grandiose museum, yet Harry would always find her under the spotlight. She bears fruits of devotion that are seductive and sweet between his teeth, seeds from pomegranates and nectarines coated in aphrodisiacs.

His goddess of love will soon be surrounded by a bountiful bed of foxtails, and if the spring season is kind to him, little snap peas will grow alongside it.

——

#harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #harry styles x oc #harry styles au #harry styles #adore-laur #foxtail