#*adile

[eatsbooks]

34 bauble for adonia/emile gimme the other side of the coin

adile / maronia + bauble

When Adonia was a youngling, her mother had a statuette on display in their sitting room. Not a single guest came to visit without heaping compliments on her.

Every strand of her mid-night hair had been lovingly carved, then painted over with so fine a brush that none clumped together. Her dress, a rich, royal crimson, fluttered down her body as though caught on perpetual breeze. Always, she was laughing, the beautiful, tinkling noise that males preferred. Her dewdrop face was bright with it.

The detail was so fine, it seemed impossible to Adonia that she was not alive and simply faking. A pixie seeking safe harbor, perhaps. Such pests were known for their trickery.

Adonia would often leave the room — with intention, mind you, so that the pixie would not sense the lie — then exercise her newfound ability to step through the world and appear before the statuette to catch the pixie, finally, in motion. Devious herself, she never fell for such a ruse. Adonia was still not convinced.

Frustrated one afternoon after her etiquette lesson, and not yet tall enough to reach for the pixie to shake her into truth, Adonia flicked her fingers at the statuette and set her on fire. She did not want to hurt the pixie, of course. Just startle the little thing into action. Her flame never hurt her, you see, so she did not think much of it at all.

But her mother, who had been walking by, was at once aghast.

She is alive, was all Adonia first said by way of explanation.

She is not, her mother said. Why would you want to hurt her, if you thought she was?

I did not want to hurt her. Angry, suddenly, and uncertain why, Adonia asked, What is she for, if she does not do anything at all? If she only stands there, laughing, day in and day out?

Her mother looked at her quite sadly, then. It would be many years before Adonia understood why, and when she did, she would make a very similar face. She brings people joy, little love. Just by being. She does not need to do anything but that.

After that, Adonia came to live like the statuette.

She brushed through her hair, until it shone, until every strand was separate and fine.

She donned the latest fashions, in royal colors, in eminent cuts.

She laughed, beautiful and tinkling, in the way that males preferred.

Not a single suitor came by without heaping compliments on her.

When she attended court for the first time and the mating bond snapped between her and Emile — when she felt it, before he had even looked her way — when she could not keep from blurting it out and earning his sneer — she was glad that even for her indignity in the moment, all she needed to do was be, and she would soon bring him joy.

Sitting at his side now, Adonia stares into the flickering centerpiece of the banquet table and thinks to the statuette, as she has not done for some time. In her memory, it is alive. In her memory, it is still a pixie, tricky, devious, aflame.

The fire before her goes out. It is such a trivial use of her ability that she waves her hand before she can think better of it, and the flame roars back to life.

In her periphery, Emile’s grip on his fork tightens. He interrupts his conversation to snap, “That is servants’ work, Adonia.”

One of his brothers snorts from across the table, just as she murmurs out, “Apologies, my lord.”

Emile cuts a look to him. “Something amusing, Marius?”

But it is the same-faced one beside who leans forth and says, “It’s such low-hanging fruit. Must we even give it voice?”

Marius laughs, then incites the fire into a dance between them.

Silas waves a hand, and a centerpiece down the table flares up. “Come now, Emile,” he says, tipping his head to the other end of the table, where a third candle burns tame. “Your turn.”

In her lap, Adonia feels her fingers twitch. She does not mean for them to. It is much like setting the statuette on fire: frustration set free.

The flame soars towards the ceiling.

Down the table, the eldest brother issues command, cutting and final: “Enough.”

All of the centerpieces die down, abruptly.

Emile, staring daggers at his brothers across, thankfully does not seem to realize it was her who lit the third. But the twins do.

Marius slides his eyes to meet hers and smirks, a clandestine curve to the corner of his mouth.

Adonia drops her gaze to her plate.

But late into the night, when Emile has left their bed in pursuit of another, she dreams about it: a statuette burning up into a pixie, and a male who prefers her that way.

[prisma-palace]

looks around. Do people still fw rockabye musical or am i the only one in this fandom

[suckitphaneuf]

[romanceclub-confessionss]

Confessions: "I don't know what the trope is called, but I love when the lis are fighting against the sytem (Jonas, Tristan, Adil, Gisella). Those lis are the most attractive on their books to me just because of that."

[fitrahgolden]

Picture This BTS from Prime Video UK's Instagram

[hinaypod]

We were recording at the library yesterday and very wisely decided to take selfies in front of the greenscreen wall 😹

Have fun!

[cimello]

my gundam x propaganda

[eatsbooks]

can we get a blurb of emile, in his head, having some sort of affection feelings for his wife? has that ever happened at all, even if he didn't show it or does he always go 🔪 whenever he looks at her?

If nothing else, Adonia is a comely female. There are moments when this fact strikes Emile so intensely that, for some time after, it colors all else about her, blush-pink, petal-soft. The flaws in her canvas fill in with delicate pigment, and she tricks him into forgetting that they exist at all.

Earlier in the eve, she turned her face away from him while he was speaking to her, as she tends to whenever she cannot keep it pleasant. The dark feathering of her lashes swept down, and the shadow they cast settled against the high of her cheeks. Her lower lip, full and plush, set to a wobble. A lovely red suffused her skin, then atop it, a tear wound its glittering path all the way down to the point of her chin.

Emile lost track of what he was saying at once.

In something of a trance, he reached for her. She went very still as he tipped her face up to his, and this made the second tear that fell all the more captivating. He had the urge to bend forth and press his mouth to her cheek, to brush the wet away on his lips, then his tongue. Finally discover how she might taste, if he were to follow its intended path down her throat, between her breasts, along her navel, into her cunt.

He imagined her salty, like her tears; he imagined her sweet, like the way she looked up at him.

Her eyes were big and round and silvery. There was a desperation in them. She wanted him the same way he wanted her in that moment — but then, Emile had always known that. He would have given it to her then, had their tardiness for the banquet not been issue in the first place. Thoughts painted over, he decided to do so once they retired to their chambers.

But the issue is that no matter how pretty a thing Adonia is, her flaws can never stay concealed beneath this veneer for very long.

Because she is a comely female, and she knows this.

Other males know this, too.

Emile watches her from over his cup, dinner near its end, the spice of the wine burning down into his filled belly.

That blush is back on her face as she talks to the male at her other side — the son of some merchant father has taken interest in doing business with. Where it had seemed a thing of beauty, it now looks a stain, smeared along by the wide of her smile. Her long, dark lashes bat and flutter, like he is not sitting here, beside her, watching on as she makes him into a cuckold for all in attendance to see.

Emile places his goblet down with a dull thud, wine sloshing over its rim, spilling from his hand and bleeding into the table covering below.

The batting and fluttering ceases at once. That lewd smile falls away from her face as she deigns to look over at him, to remember he is still here.

Emile leans in, and Adonia shrinks down into herself.

Almost, her beauty overcomes him again. He does not let it this time, not even with her eyes big, round, desperate.

“Why stop at seeming the whore, Adonia?” he asks, his syllables soft and runny but his words sharp enough that he can delight in how they wound. “Why not bend over for him, too? You could do it right here. Spare us all the guesswork.”

Adonia keeps her mouth shut.

But at her back, on a nervous, pathetic laugh: “My lord, you misunderstand. The lady and I were o—”

Whatever more the fool thought to say is trapped behind the smoke now suffocating him.

“I do not recall inviting you to speak to me.”

Practically inaudible below the clamor being made, Adonia says, “Forgive me, my lord. It will not happen again.”

Emile knows she is only saying this to spare the cock she could have ensnared with her blush-pink, petal-soft ways. He waits until the room finally quiets to speak. It takes a good while, with the way he lets air slip into the male’s lungs here and there. But eventually, there is silence.

“No,” Emile says then, “I imagine it will not.”

[sunshine-gumdrop]

Adin Hill really said “get the fuck out of my crease” and launched Hyman like he was clearing browser history. Absolute war crimes in goalie pads—and no call. Welcome to playoff hockey, where laws don��t exist and neither does shame.

[thesunandtheswallow]

Some CGs that I don't remember if I posted them

[fanclubgraphics]

rockabye autism save me rockabye autism /loose ref

[malaksamy1912]

Romance club be giving us multiple amazing/sexy/mind blowing love interests and be like : hey , you can only choose one , hoeing around will have grave consequences

C’mon ! That’s s not fair and u know it

[cephalopistol]

first gundam x fanart

and more kai bullshit (meowth kai and tgirl kai)

[ginbutnottonic]

WE ARE SO BACK

Das riight, I've finally made some decent progress in my fanfic endeavors and we are continuing Ume's story!

This time it is a bridge fanfic that I hope you will enjoy!

You can check out other chapter covers here:

Second | Third | Fourth | Fifth

(Imma tag everyone who appears in this mess teehee)

[vihra]

[gregor-samsung]

English Vinglish (Gauri Shinde - 2012)