#drabble prize

[sylusdarling]

Prized Possession

Drabble

Sylus x reader

inspired by this tweet

Sylus was in a bad mood today. You watched him as he stormed out angrily this morning, he was a man on a mission.

“Hey boys,” You approached Luke and Kieran.

“Miss!” They both swung their heads around to look at you.

“Do you both mind telling me what’s up with Sylus today?” You were hoping that his right hand men had some sort of idea of what was going on.

“Boss had his wallet stolen.” Luke said and Kieran nodded.

Just as the boys had said, Sylus had his wallet stolen. Unfortunately for the thief, his prized possession was in there.

Standing in an alley way, his fingers were wrapped in a man’s dirty hair as he sat on his knees in front Sylus. His face was bloodied and his lip quivered as he was at Sylus’ mercy.

“It’s a simple question, really.” Sylus yanked the man’s head back hard and he let out a loud cry.

“Fine! Y-yes I stole your wallet.” The man shook as he spoke.

In one motion Sylus loosened his grip and the man fell face first into the ground. Crouching down, Sylus dug his hand into the cowards coat and retrieved his wallet. Opening the black leather pouch, he plucked something small out of it and tucked it into his suit pocket. With a straight face Sylus threw his wallet on the ground infront of the man.

“Take it, since you clearly want it so bad.”

Reading a book in bed, you stayed up waiting for Sylus. He always told you to put yourself first and sleep but you just couldn’t until your husband was by your side again. The tall man walked into the room, he made sure he opened the door quietly incase you were sleeping.

“Sweetie, you’re still awake.”

Setting the book down on the night stand, you hopped out of bed and walked up to your husband. You wrapped your arms around him in a hug, he did the same. After a moment you pulled away.

“I heard someone stole your wallet today, get it back?” You questioned.

He nodded, “The wallet wasn’t very valuable. I just had to fetch something inside of it first.”

“Oh like some secret information or money?” You giggled clearly being sarcastic.

Bringing his large hand to your head, he ruffled your hair.

“Something like that.” He hummed. “Let’s go to bed, sweetie.”

“Sounds good.” You dragged your husband by hand to the bed as you climbed under the covers.

Before changing into his pyjamas, Sylus took the item he obtained out of his jacket and placed it on the bedside table.

There on the nightstand sat a polaroid of you with a large smile as you scooped a bite of a chocolate drizzled sundae into your mouth.

It was his prized possession.

[cameronsbabydoll]

──── THE PRINCE’S PRIZE ────

A mini series made by © cameronsbabydoll

The kingdom spoke of a cursed princess, a beauty lost to time, trapped in an endless slumber. Forgotten by the world, she remained untouched—until the day he found her.

Rafe Cameron was no hero. He did not come to wake the sleeping princess out of love or duty. He came to claim her. To take what was never his to have.

She did not wake from a kiss. She woke to the cries of newborns, her body unfamiliar, her mind fractured with missing time. And when Rafe came to collect his prize, he did so with a smile, weaving a tale of devotion and fate, a perfect fairytale crafted from his own dark desires.

She doesn’t remember what truly happened in that castle, but she knows something is wrong. The way he touches her. The way he watches her. The way his love feels like a noose tightening around her throat.

But the truth will not set her free.

It will only remind her that the fairytale is over—because the prince has already won

— ⟢ CHAPTERS

chapter one

chapter two

chapter three

chapter four

chapter five

[letmegrabyourcuteass]

"So you're telling me you worked on a ranch but never lassoed an animal?" Eddie snickers. "Faker."

"I am not! Nobody would teach me!" Buck gives Eddie a smirk, though. "I am, however, great at riding."

"I could teach you," Eddie takes a drink from his beer, "how to lasso."

"You don't know how to lasso," Buck challenges. Buck could see a dangerous glint flash in Eddie's eyes.

"You challenging me?"

And so here they are. Buck is stretching, getting ready to run, as Eddie messes with his rope. He's got a cowboy hat on, too. Everyone else is standing around and watching, making bets.

Bobby counts them down, and Buck takes off. Eddie doesn't have much rope, so he takes off as well.

He grins and throws the lasso. He cheers when it catches Buck's leg. Eddie tugs on it, watching the big 6ft 2 blonde yelp as he falls to the ground.

"Y-" Buck pants. "You got lucky!"

"Oh, I got really lucky, alright. Caught myself a nice pretty prize to take home," Eddie's Texan drawl slips through. Buck flushes and sputters when Eddie quickly wraps the rope around Buck's hands and ankles, tying them together. "Alright, up you go," Eddie says as he picks him up, as if he weighs nothing. He wraps an arm around his midsection and carries Buck on his shoulder.

Buck's just dangling there, tied up. "Eddie!"

Eddie laughs, hearing the near-whine come out from Buck's mouth.

[everythingwasalreadypicked]

"She never said it directly, but I knew the moment I saw her face."

Drabble Ask Game

"Lamia is dead." Hecate slumped on Nemesis's altar, head in hands "By Alabaster's hands."

"Who and who?" The other goddess's thick drawl irritated against her eardrums.

"My daughter. And son." She hissed. "How can you not know?"

"Do you expect me to take note of every single one of your pups, 'Cate?" Nemesis sneered, gesturing towards her with a dagger. "Get off my altar."

"No." Hecate raised her chin high, "And you should know Al, he was close with your son Ethan."

"I couldn't care less."

"Clearly."

Nemesis paused, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Lamia will come back, dearest."

"To try to kill her brother again, yes." Hecate snapped, "I know!"

"All this unnecessary bloodshed," Nemesis shook her head, striding towards Hecate, "You're too soft on them."

"Oh is that so? Are you the pinnacle of motherhood now?"

"My children would know better than to do this." She caressed Hecate's cheek. "You should learn to be more strict."

Hecate huffed, "Suggesting I take their eyes?"

"Tongues, perhaps," Nemesis clicked hers, smirking, "Make them unable to chant."

The bulging of Hecate's wildfire green eyes were glorious.

[skylarkblue]

oops i was cringe in the group chat and now i must die

[raayllum]

Callum turns it over in his mind a hundred times.

The sound of his cuffs hitting the floor of the deck, even as Finnegrin circled like a shark. The ache in his wrists and his jaw and just about everywhere, the weight of the green worm in his palm. He'd known somewhere deep down that Finnegrin must've had some kind of trick up his sleeve, that just primal magic wouldn't be enough to beat him, but Callum had still stood there, hesitating, trying to muster up the will to do dark magic and weigh his options and—

Rayla's safety had been the cost, having to try take control of the situation into her own hands.

And then she'd screamed, loud and awful, and he'd seen red. He'd never felt that kind of anger before, hadn't known something that deep and ugly and violent even existed in him. Something so mind-numbingly blank. Callum hadn't been able to think of anything—not the slug, or a spell, or anything, except—

He had to make Finnegrin pay.

But the second you see that elf girl in danger, you completely lost yourself.

It hadn't even protected her. Not in the long run.

Now Finnegrin is dead, and... There's an itch on Callum's palm he can't quite get rid of. A lingering after effect of the spell.

Callum's jaw clenches.

He'd paid the price, though. He always would.

[milkteabinniechan]

We did it! Because of all of you I hit 400 followers 💕 and I want to give something back!

Enter to win a customized stray kids drabble from me!

Examples here, here and here of the type of drabble you could win <3

Rules:

Must be 18+ to enter (no age in bio, you will be blocked)

Heart/Like THIS POST

Drabble will only be 100 words and can be fluff/smut/angst/nsfw

Winner will have the writing sent to them personally and privately, delivery time will be 1-3 days ❤️

✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。

A WINNER WILL BE CHOSEN AT RANDOM ONE WEEK FROM TODAY: MARCH 9TH, 2024

[jayparked]

TRAP? IS IT TRAP?!

(i have a final tmr but i need a break and watching this is so entertaining LMAO)

WINNER WINNER!!!!!

THE BABY TRAP!!

COMING SOON!!!!

[fluxrspar]

stones chipped and walls shattered

a drabble: following the events of Epiphany. word count: 1209 words

She had fallen unconscious in the battle to reclaim Garreg Mach.

…or, maybe she had died? (She doesn’t quite recall.) The mages they fought had made their final stand, both sides succumbing in one final clash—and then what? (Blackness.)

Either way, Selena was awake now.

Stumbling her way back to Garreg Mach after awaking in a nearby town—she had thanked her caretaker endlessly, but truly, she needed to go—with her heart set on making certain of just one thing.

(She could only hope it was still there. It was her mistake to have left without it.)

The monastery is emptier without all of its people, she thinks; the first thought, even, after laying eyes on the place again proper. The collection of buildings felt like a hollow shell of what once was, crumbled ruins still being put back together in hope. (Such was the consequence of warfare, so the Fluorspar had known, but it was haunting, after all this time, to truly come face-to-face with it again.) It only tightens the knot in her stomach. Please let it still be there.

(And not found and looted by bandits, or by the monastery’s intruders, or whoever else could’ve come across it.) The path is broken, stones chipped and walls shattered in the battles the land had suffered—but the path is still there, and she knows the way to her office. Though the clicking of her heels does not echo as cleanly, there is still a road beneath them for her to walk.

She rounds the corner to her office, seeming to be one of the less damaged parts of the building. The door is ajar in a way she never would’ve left it, and the room itself is a total mess once she finally makes her way in—and then there is the thick layer of dust that had settled on it all. Perfectly undisturbed, so she would dare to hope; perhaps it was still there. (From a glance, she can tell: some of her supplies would need to be replaced; others simply repaired; the desk is still together.)

Which, for some reason, stops her in her tracks. (She doesn’t even know why, knowing it was a weathered constant in a maelstrom of change; her heart is still pounding.) If it was still together–

Slowly, carefully, she approaches the old wood, rounding to the other side and clutching the handle of one of the drawers. It takes a bit of force to open (and even more will to even start), but it comes loose from its month-long rest, and Selena ventures to take a peek inside.

(It isn’t there.)

In truth, Selena had expected to feel more at the realization—that her fluorspar, left behind so carelessly– Just a month ago, she had stepped outside, assuming it would be safe until she returned to her office; a month ago, she hadn’t known they would be attacked; that a month would pass.

She feels numb. Worse than the dull ache of battles hard-fought still lingering, she feels numb. (Perhaps she really has forsaken her title.) She closes the drawer, and she takes a seat.

It’s gone. (Likely for forever now.) It’s gone and she had left it and it was gone. (His Majesty’s truth and love gone with it; she really has forsaken her purpose.)

She sits there in silent contemplation—gone forever. (She had tried to build something new in Fódlan, yes, but she sours at the feeling that the most tangible part of her history was gone forever.) It’s sickening; nauseating, almost; terribly dreadful to understate—

There is a hollow knock at the door.

Selena doesn’t look up, instead allowing her head to sit upon the top of her desk as she wallows. She doesn’t care that the door was still open anyway and whoever was in the hallway could see her in all her misery; so what if she was human? The whole lot of them were. (There is silence.)

Then footsteps approaching, wordless, but Selena does not have the might to face them. A light shadow casts itself, but that is all—a slow whistle, and then:

“ That’s pathetic of you. ”

Her head snaps up—because there is only one person that could be, but so soon? Already? (She had only just arrived, and already Valter was making a nuisance of himself; at a time where she felt so low–)

“ You know, I might’ve had some respect for you not dying out there, ” and it is said as lightly as if he were discussing the weather, “ but this reminds me why I never did. ”

“You never change.”

Selena doesn’t think before she speaks, but it is the truth, she realizes. Here she was, in shambles, mourning the death of a self that could never be again; weighed down by all that she had lost; still thinking she is wont to violence– (Because Sea Fire was all-consuming–)

And here stood the Moonstone, as though the monastery had never been attacked. (As though it had never fallen.) Selena clenches her jaw.

“ Is that a bad thing? ” he replies slyly, another slow whistle following as he twirls a finger through his hair. “ Better to never change than to fall like a pile of pebbles at the slightest inconvenience. ”

“Get out of my office.”

He raises an eyebrow, seemingly amused by her response—a hum. “ I’ll pass. ”

You never change. Always so aggravating, out to get under her skin—and at present, she would rather feel numb than suffer the boiling of her blood at the sight of him: nonchalant, as though nothing had changed, as though they were still in Grado–

(Ah.) Now that was a bizarre thought to occur.

Not in the comment of his constancy, but when Selena thinks of home—her first one, her forever one, if she ever had the chance to return (if her blood was not forsaken with her gemstone)—she cannot help but think of the war; she cannot help but think of what changed.

And the appalling thought is that Selena had died a traitor to her ideals; but so far as she had known, following his reinstatement, Valter had never truly betrayed the crown. (The new Vigarde had never once scorned him; he had never questioned his loyalty and obedience.)

That sickening feeling tastes like vomit.

And she hates that she’s staring, the horror of it all cracking through the ice of her features; and Valter, as though he could read her mind, cracks a wry smile of his own in return.

She looks away, and her voice is hardly over a mumble. “Just leave…”

He doesn’t respond, only that Selena can feel his eyes watching her. Then, after sufficient pause, there is a hum of satisfaction—and he finally leaves. (She should close the door and lock it, the knight thinks to herself, but knowing the state of the monastery’s infrastructure, she wouldn’t be surprised if the lock was in too terrible of a condition to continue functioning.) Instead, she sits at her desk, and she stares at the ceiling, and she thinks.

(About war and violence; peace and stillness; what it means to bend until you break; what it means to be the Emperor’s shield, not his sword.)

She truly does hate Valter. That’s all she can decide.

[sorakh28]

Whumptober 2024- Silver Hair

“...Ah, I wasn’t always…” Pinuccio pursed his lips. “My hair turned silver... at the same time I lost my arm.”

Kris blinked trice. “So it originally wasn’t silver?”

“No.” Pinuccio pointed to his eyebrows. “Jet black.”

“You, uh… you still look pretty great with the silver hair.” Kris’ cheek glowed pinker.

It was Pinuccio’s turn to blink trice, before blushing himself. “I… I wasn’t… expecting that at all. I mean… the hair was less of a worry than the arm.” He gestured to the prosthetic arm he had just finished polishing. “Even so… thank you. It makes me feel… normal.”

[astrxlfinale]

"......You again."

"What?"

"I'm not talking about the shell you're donning, Mr.Stellaron."

Caelus found it ironic how that very name found itself mapped into this virtual space. Then again, hadn't 'loops' found themselves matted into the very fabric of space/time? The Simulated Universe is still it's own macrocasm that's filtered through countless memories, facts and hidden factors that even the great Geniuses themselves weren't privy too. This entire time, it led to plenty of moments like this.

Where he'd be beyond that damnable blade again, how it'd be gentle in the way it introduced the end, allowing the surface breaking sensation of momentary death to take place.

Through different mediums, it was the same result. Death. It would momentarily free him into that scope of the beyond for a fleeting moment after the one known as Polka Kakamond completed her work. Another genius down, an important figure swept up, all in the name of their own rhythm that guides them. It was enough to actually make a sharp sting of Elation stir through him, a joyous laughter at the unprecedented event.

"They can't see us, can they? Herta and the rest of 'em."

"Not at all. It'd be no different than trying to perceive my face."

Or the complete lack thereof. Through the image of a mercenary roaming through Sanguine library, which inevitably leads to haunting foresight made through the shapeless, sleeping speaker of future truths; Finality. The moment where they found themselves briefly released from the automated parts are drawn to a pause. Polka and Caelus would have a moment to exchange words. Even if that means for him to try peering in full futility of her face encased in static.

"So what gave exactly? I was here for my weekly business, I hadn't expected a whole damn hiccup to choke this to a standstill.

There's a contemplative pause as Polka mulls it over, glancing at her blade of 'release' with a faux sense of fascination. It looks as if both of them are vividly aware of the current circumstance at hand. Through the woven genius of Nous's followers, a plane hidden from time's touch was discovered.

Yet, it was time itself that offered such a boon to begin with.

"I needed to make a proper assessment. Death involving you as it stands would be unwise. At least with how my hands carry it. You're someone on Terminus's personal list of interest. Hadn't that puppet tucked with the Creed incited as much to you before?"

"........"

Interesting. "What? No shocked looks? Sudden barrage of questions? Pleas as if I'm lying about taking your life?"

It's in that moment the soldier Caelus inhabited gave a derisive snort to such thoughts.

"Dying has been weird for me to begin with."

"You know I hadn't meant--"

"Outside." He brisky interrupts. "On one of my first journeys, a frozen, Stellaron infused spear just blew open my heart and packed me up."

"....."

"And y'know what? No darkness, no greater planes. I've just met a goddamn Aeon and people packed with regrets before it just spat me back out."

In the end, that did it. Polka was unsure of what made such a violet twinge of amusement capture them, but it's this bizarre circumstance that felt authentic and less grandiose that prompted a released spiel of laughter. The sort that made the clack of their heels stumble back, all while this Caelus (Akivili) facsimile remained parked against the bookcase. All while the hidden Candlegrapho section remained stuck upon the shelves.

For a fleeting moment, the Trailblaze also found himself laughing amidst this sea of frozen, virtual memories.

"And the first thing-- Haaaah, you do is share it like that. After all the great spiels, holier than thou forethought, the pure and unfettered pride. I certainly have to say you're a weird one."

"I'm just no genius. And from all the examples I've seen, sure as hell in no rush to dive into being one."

The assassin's lips perked with a thoughtful hum as they walked towards him, allowing the looming presence of their shadow to encompass them. "Then I have to say, I'm looking forward to our encounter that lacks all the spatial pleasantries. My laundry list seems adamant in keeping me planted against droll company."

Somehow, it'd be amidst dangerous prophecies, the advent of unbound slaughter, and IPC conspiracies that a rather.. Pleasant time was derived. Things would end as they always did here, except, this blank space would be removed entirely from any notion of scripts and foresight. The fabled Genius slayer and newly awakened Trailblazer had carved out a gem of their very own. Yet, all good times have to finish at some point.

"So is it like that on the outside too?" Comes a curious, final question. "Your face I mean. Am I really going to be staring down a live glitch?"

"And what if you do?" She begins, fitting the puzzles of Sim Universe's reality with a trademark kiss upon the forehead. Time found itself organizing back on a proper track.

"Then I know the perfect calling card." Caelus finishes. "Can't really give a damn about your past due to being absent about my own, so how can I blame anyone?"

For an instant, it feels as if there was the illusion of a smile being perceived on his end. Faint, understanding before inevitably being drawn back to the 'work mode' of the matter at hand. Once that frantic skip transpired, revealing that all sights, scenes and sounds were being recorded again, even Polka's emotions sharpened to guide the Sim Universe's text.

Caelus was killed, that lethal blade was driven directly into his abdomen.

He was her accomplice.

[antisolararc]

4 and/or 5 for the worldbuilding prompts !

This is looong, so I'll put them under the cut.

4. What are some major landmarks you encounter on your travels? Do locals tell tales about their origin? Write about how these experiences might affect you as you continue on your journey.

THE SEA OF SOLACE

As the ship approached, the silhouette in the mist begins to sharpen. Meru, the great volcano, greeted them in the distance. They were already familiar, of course. Well, sort of. Meridian had never been there, but they knew plenty about it - it's the center of the universe! In the days before anyone reached it, they said it was so high up that its peak pierced the heavens. Once people got there, they brought it down, though. Far down, they thought spitefully.

Even from here, they could see that the surface of the mountain had an opalescent shine to it . They squinted. It was kind of overwhelming, actually. Golden clouds poured down from the caldera and congregated around waterline, keeping the island afloat. They weren't close enough to see Ruyi, yet, though. Meru's evil stepsister had a much lower elevation.

A great magicians' circle had taken over Meru, or so they'd been told. Primarily benevolent, but not above the great sway of politics and violence. 'They've got this code,' Reynardine had said. 'They're really serious about it. Best I don't play around with them too much.' When Mery had inquired further, he'd just shrugged.

Ruyi, on the other hand, was under no such rule. The magicians' circle observed, sure, and intervened if they thought it was a threat to them, but sounded like just about anything went at the sorcerers' market. That was the appeal, after all. Anything you desire for the right price.

They peeled their hands off the guardrail and slowly, stiffly, headed back inside. Thinking about it too much was making them uneasy.

XALABASE

Eyes wide, Odd stared for longer than he would have liked. He hadn't expected it to be this impressive. The temple was a whole complex within itself. Later, he'd just blame the pictures, but, inwardly, he admitted to himself that he didn't realize it was possible to make (not to mention maintain ) a structure like this without the aid of magic.

It was easily as elaborate as one of Ranlindyr's monoliths. Not only that, though -- unlike the sleek, smooth monoliths, every surface was intricately detailed with some sort of art. In the center of the courtyard, a great sculpture of the universe had been automated to keep the time.

Faintly, he could hear it ticking. That's annoying. Luckily, he could make his own devices run with complete silence -- otherwise, it would seriously increase his odds of being caught. Well, he supposed that was one thing they hadn't figured out yet.

VALONVYR

Suddenly, the barren landscape turned into a forest of palms. If it felt uncomfortably unnatural, that's because it was. The trees were unnaturally, artificially green in a way that clashed with just about everything they'd seen thus far. And, of course, the ad banners hung in-between them didn't help. On the left, "DON'T FORGET, GOD ALWAYS REMEMBERS." On the right, "SLIPPERY STEVE'S HASH SHACK -> 1 MILE OFF EXIT 3."

"Wellspring City!" Ivrel threw her hands up with a derisive scoff. "The jewel of the desert! The oasis of indulgence! Why, the good lord must've put all his favorite souls here, lest the dust sap all their virtue out and leave 'em like tadpoles with a puddle. S'pose someone's gotta stay late to clean up after, too, though..." She scratched her chin. What the hell was that, a monologue? She was letting Tjong rub off on her too much.

Next to her, Zee didn't really seem to absorb any of what she said -- she was too busy trying not to sideswipe any trees along the ever-twisting road.

"Ah!" She yelped as she made a sharp right. "Why's the road like this!? What's with these trees!?"

"It's a windbreak," Ivrel grumbled.

"With palm trees? I didn't think those grew here..."

"They don't."

The implication must have been clear enough, because Zee only replied with "oh."

RANLINDYR

Instinctively, Vita jumped.

This thing stood out as starkly different from the rest of the city. It wasn't unnaturally smooth, it was scaled. Great spires of glass shot out from its back, each glistening with a different color. She glared at the gargantuan gargoyle with distaste. What bizarre waste of space! It's own grotesquely painted eyes threatened to subjugate her own, though, so she quickly redirected her gaze.

She leaned into Odd, tugging on his arm so she could whisper in his ear. Begrudgingly, he obliged.

"What the hell is that!?

"...What?"

They jerked their head in the direction of the strange structure.

"Oh." A pause. "That's the Obsidian Crocodile," he said, as if it was obvious. "Never heard of public art?"

"It's garish!" She clicked her tongue. "I wouldn't figure this fits within the city beautification guidelines."

"Uh, yeah, I think that's the point." He crossed his arms. "It's supposed to remind us of our sins, or whatever." He didn't meet her eyes. "I mean, you can figure it out..." Suddenly hesitant, Odd trailed off.

Yeah, Vita could figure it out alright.

They turned away from him as their frowned deepened. Ranlindyr had a sort of melancholy simmering beneath its skin that she hadn't quite anticipated. It wasn't like Valonvyr, where grief turned to brazen displays of bloodshed. Here, the vulgarity lurked more subtly. Much to her displeasure, it made it made the hair on her arms stand straight -- something that her homeland had never done, despite it all.

LANTERN ISLAND

Just the sight of it made her a little uneasy. She'd only seen The Traveler's ship a few times, and, even then, she'd always quickly averted her gaze, praying not to catch the eye of a malicious spirit. Other people stayed to watch for it with a sort of glee in their eye. Some even managed to board the ship. A few returned with ancient treasures, but others never returned at all. There must have been an intricate labyrinth inside.

Zee used to wonder why anyone would do that -- so scary, so dangerous, and for what? A piece of history they'd have to shun? But things were different now. She understood, perhaps too well. The old Kalayan vessel brought with it a sea of fog, and it suddenly became much harder to see.

"Was that the boat?" Meridian asked from somewhere in the haze.

"Uh, yeah! It's super haunted!"

"...No kidding, ah?"

KALIBARU

Theoretically, it was very easy to slip into an alleyway in Kalibaru, considering the sheer abundance of them. In practice, his size served as a significant setback. Tjong was used to feeling large, and, usually, he rather liked it. Right now, though, he felt like he took up too much space in the crowd, despite the fact that he went largely (unusually) unacknowledged. Vendors crowed at him, hawking souvenirs and street food that he couldn't eat, but only children bothered to shy away from him as though he was a beast.

Although he'd never admit it, he once fantasized about such a thing. To traverse the world as if he were a human, or at least something akin to one. Perhaps his fantasies had been naive. To his right, another, smaller path branched out in-between two buildings. Before the crowd could surge again, he slipped into it.

The light wasn't so bright here, thanks to the looming shadow of a massive complex of shophouses. The alley opened up to a small courtyard with a stone carving of a horned frog in the center. Water poured from its gaping mouth into a little pond. The chatter of the masses had disappeared, replaced by the gurgling fountain.

Unlike the main road, this area was empty, at least for the time being. In comparison, the emptiness should have felt uncanny, but Tjong found that it was far more comfortable. It reminded him of his home, in a way that most of the city was simply too lively to do.

As he wandered, an old stone shrine caught his eye. It was for some local ancestor he was unfamiliar with. The structure itself was weathered, but, even so, recent offerings lay before it -- fresh fruit, pastries, shells, finely crafted trinkets.

He paused to examine it with a wistful longing in his eyes.

Longing for what? He wasn't sure he could say.

5. Write about someone you’ve lost along your adventures, how did you deal with that loss?

"Apologies, perhaps this is impolite…" Anata clasped their hands. "But Dr. Alquarix's death-"

"He was asking for it." Odd curled in on himself defensively.

Literally. Even if, despite his great accolades, he didn't truly understand what he was asking for.

"I don't doubt that he was." They laughed. Don't laugh at me. "But you followed along, didn't you? I suppose your reason is obvious, I was just curious… Why then? What was the breaking point?" The old man was excruciatingly good at pulling out the most loaded questions as if they were just the tiniest bit indelicate.

Odd shrugged, looking away. "…I dunno. It was just… all of it, really." He shook his head. "The opportunity was there. Who could blame me?" A lot of people, it turned out. He growled, baring his teeth. "Long overdue, anyways. Someon- I should have done it earlier!" Well, that part was the truth, at least. His face flushed in embarrassment. Shame for how foolish he'd always been. Hindsight's twenty-twenty, huh?

"Are you relieved?" Anata's knowing smile made him itch. "To be free. Now you can follow your dreams!"

"Yeah." His voice was hollowed. "I can follow my dreams."

[cameronsbabydoll]

THE PRINCE’S PRIZE — CHAPTER ONE

WARNINGS — sorta implied that rafe had sex with her while she was sleeping if that make sense, non-con, written from rafe’s perspective — i kinda hate it but oh well

“She’s still there, y’know.

The old man took a slow drag from his pipe, exhaling the words like a secret meant to be forgotten. The fire crackled between them, casting flickering light across the circle of men gathered at the inn.

Rafe sat among them, half-listening, his drink untouched as he watched the way the others leaned in, hungry for more. He had heard the tale before—every man in this town had.

“Still untouched,” another muttered, voice thick with ale. “Still as perfect as the day she closed her eyes.”

Rafe arched a brow, feigning disinterest. “You expect me to believe a girl’s been lying in some rotting castle for years and hasn’t withered away?”

The old man grinned, teeth yellowed with time. “Not a girl, boy. A princess. And believe what you want, but she’s there. Cursed. Frozen in time.” He tapped his pipe against the wooden table, shaking his head. “Some say she was meant to be woken by a kiss. Others say she was put there for a reason—kept away so no man could ever have her.”

The words lingered in the smoky air, thick with something unspoken.

Rafe rolled his glass between his fingers, considering.

A girl. Hidden away. Untouched.

The thought stirred something deep in his gut.

Something primal.

He pushed his chair back, the legs scraping against the worn floorboards. “Sounds like a fairytale,” he muttered. But when he left the inn that night, he rode toward the woods instead of home to his castle.

Towards her.

The journey was treacherous, the path overgrown with thick brambles that clawed at his arms as he pushed through. The further he went, the quieter the world became, as if even the birds knew better than to disturb this place.

And then he saw it.

A castle, swallowed by time. Vines crept up its crumbling walls, twisting like fingers desperate to reclaim their prize. The air was thick with the scent of dust and roses, sickly sweet and cloying.

Rafe dismounted, his boots crunching against the dead leaves as he approached the entrance. The heavy wooden doors groaned as he pushed them open, revealing a grand hall frozen in decay. Cobwebs hung from chandeliers, the remains of a feast rotting on a long-abandoned table.

But none of it mattered.

Because he knew where to find her.

He ascended the spiral staircase, each step echoing through the hollow corridors. The door at the top was different from the rest—preserved. The brass handle gleamed as if someone had polished it just yesterday.

He pressed it open.

And there she was.

The stories had not lied.

She laid on a grand bed, silken sheets still smooth beneath her, untouched by the dust that covered the rest of the castle. Her hair spilled around her like golden thread, her lips parted ever so slightly, chest rising and falling with the softest breaths.

A sleeping princess.

A treasure, hidden away from the world.

His fingers twitched.

She was not dead. Not ruined. Not rotted away like she should have been.

She was perfect.

His throat went dry as he stepped closer, the room suffocating in its stillness. His pulse hammered, his mind already spinning with the possibilities.

How long had she been waiting? How long had she belonged to no one?

The others in town—they spoke of kissing her awake. Of breaking the spell with something as foolish as love.

But Rafe had never been a believer in love.

He believed in taking.

He reached out, brushing a gloved finger along her jaw, his touch featherlight. She didn’t stir. Didn’t react. She was soft beneath his hands, her skin untouched by time or by any man.

His.

She was his.

A slow smirk pulled at his lips as he exhaled, leaning down until his breath ghosted over her throat.

“They left you here, didn’t they, princess?” he murmured. “Kept you locked away… kept you all to yourself.”

His hand trailed lower, slipping beneath the delicate fabric of her dress. His palm flattened against her stomach, feeling the warmth of her beneath the layers. Still, she did not wake.

“They were fools.”

His mouth brushed against her collarbone, tracing his claim.

“They should’ve known—”

His fingers slipped lower, curling possessively.

“—someone was always going to find you.”

And tonight, she would no longer be untouched.

Tonight, he would make her his.

[emo-gremlin]

Local man goes to hospital after witnessing the effects of mankind's machinations on innocent souls, and falling off a building.

A mirror breaks

[magiicxkiingdcm]

jasmine tag drop

── ★ || jasmine || a princess or a street mouse || visage

[beelinx]

toge inumaki would be the type of guy who’d look all confident as he walks up to the carnival stand, only to win nothing and have you get him a plushie after you win.

then you’d get ice cream together to lift his spirits after being publicly humiliated.

(you had to pay because he spent all his money at the carnival)