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the-mortuary-witch · 4 months ago

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HERA

WHO IS SHE?

Hera is the goddess of marriage, women, childbirth, and family. Hera is also the patroness and protectress of married women, presiding over weddings and blessing marital unions. She is the Queen of the gods and one of the 12 Olympians. Hera is known for her jealous rages as much as Zeus is known for his sleeping around. She always takes this rage out on Zeus's lovers, children, and mortals who crossed her. Usually, when there's conflict on Olympus, it's because Zeus and Hera are fighting over the latest "sex scandal turned murder."

BASIC INFO:

Appearance: Hera is typically described as an incredibly beautiful and majestic goddess. She is often depicted as a regal woman with long, flowing hair, a fair complexion, and a commanding presence. She wears a golden crown and holds a sceptor or a lotus branch. She is often surrounded by divine attendants and symbols of her power and authority. Hera's beauty and grace are often compared to that of other goddesses, with some sources describing her as surpassingly lovely and radiant. She is also said to carry a pomegranate in her hand, which symbolizes fertility and motherhood.

Personality: With devotees, Hera is often depicted as a stern but loving deity who expects unwavering loyalty and devotion. She is also known for her generosity and compassion towards women and mothers, but her wrath is something to be feared. Ultimately, Hera's personality is complex and multifaceted, and her devotees must approach her with respect and reverence.

Symbols: pomegranate, white flowers, peacocks, lotus-staff, throne, and diadem

Goddess of: marriage, fertility, childbirth, Kings and Empires, women, family, the sky, heaven, the stars, and the protector of women during childbirth

Culture: Greek

Plants: lily, willow, lotus, poppy, stephanotis, pomegranate, strawberries, cypress, coconut, iris, white rose, apple trees, waterlily, maple trees, and all white flowers

Crystals: amethyst, turquoise, quartz, pearls, garnet, citrine, amber, diamond, and star sapphires

Animals: hawk, peacock, lion, cow, cuckoo, eagles, crane, and snails, crabs, or any other creatures with shells

Incense: apple, lotus, pomegranate, rose, myrrh, jasmine, iris, patchouli, and frankincense

Practices: fertility magick, marriage and relationship rituals, pregnancy rituals, shadow work, healing, cord-cutting, beauty magick, strength, marital harmony, and domestic magic and home protection

Colours: gold, silver, white, purple, royal blue, and green

Numbers: 2 and 8

Zodiac: Aquarius

Tarot: The Empress, The World, Suit of Cups, and Queen of Cups

Planet: Venus

Days: Friday, Daidala, Heraia, and she is typically invoked for matters concerning family, marriage, and fertility

Parents: Kronos and Rhea

Siblings: Zeus, Poseidon, Hades, Hestia, and Demeter

Partner: Zeus

Children: Angelos, Eris, Arge, the Charities, Eleutheria, Ares, Hephaestus, Hebe, and Eileithyia

MISC:

Peacocks: Hera is often associated with peacocks for several reasons. The most common explanation is that the striking and colourful feathers of the peacock symbolize Hera's own beauty and radiance. Peacocks are also known for their pride and vanity, which some see as a reflection of Hera's own traits. Additionally, the peacock's habit of fanning out its tail feathers is seen as emblematic of Hera's own display of power and grandeur. Some also attribute the association to a specific myth in which Hera takes the form of a peacock.

Motherhood and childhood: she is often associated with motherhood and childbirth in Greek mythology because she is the goddess of marriage and the family unit, and she is the mother of many of the Olympian gods. She is also considered the protector of women and children, and is sometimes depicted with the symbol of a child in her arms. Additionally, Hera herself is the mother of several gods and goddesses, including Ares, Hebe, Eileithyia, Hephaestus and a few others. Her role as a mother and as a protector of motherhood is an important aspect of her identity and her place in the pantheon of Greek deities.

Crowns: Hera is often associated with crowns because of her status as the Queen of the gods and the wife of Zeus. In Greek mythology, Hera is often depicted wearing a golden or jewelled crown on her head, which symbolized her authority and power as the queen of the gods. Crowns were also often associated with royalty and divinity, and Hera's crown was a visible symbol of her exalted rank among the gods. Additionally, some myths suggest that Hera was given a crown by Zeus as a symbol of his love and devotion to her.

Gold and silver: in Greek mythology, gold is often associated with the gods and their divine nature, and Hera's crown was often made of gold to reflect her own divine status. Silver is also associated with purity and beauty, and in some myths, it is said that Hera was given a silver mirror by Zeus to symbolize her own beauty and grace.

Family: Hera is famously associated with family in Greek mythology because she is the goddess of marriage and the family unit. She is the patron deity of married women and is often invoked to bless the home and hearth. Hera is also the mother of many of the Olympian gods, and she is deeply protective of her own children and husband, Zeus. Hera's association with the family and married life is a key part of her identity as a goddess, and she is often depicted as a loving and nurturing wife and mother.

Rage: one of the main reasons is her jealousy and possessiveness towards her husband, Zeus. Hera is frequently portrayed as a jealous and vengeful goddess who cannot abide any sign of infidelity or disloyalty from her spouse. This is evident in many myths, such as the story of Io, where Hera turns Io into a cow to prevent Zeus from being with her. Another reason for Hera's association with rage is her protectiveness over her children and her role as the goddess of family.

FACTS ABOUT HERA:

One of her defining characteristics in myth is her jealous and vengeful nature in dealing with any who offended her, especially Zeus's numerous adulterous lovers and illegitimate offspring.

When Hera heard of her loyal, Argus, servant's death she was distraught. To honour Argus, she took his eyes and placed them in the peacock's feathers—her favourite animal. To take her revenge, Hera sent a gadfly—a fly that bites livestock—to bite Lo as she wandered the Earth for eternity, forever lost to Zeus.

She would seek revenge on those who offended her, including poisoning and killing most of the island of Oenone, tricking Semele into her death, blinded the seer (Teiresias), sent the Sphinx to Thebes to punish the King (Laïus), turning Io into a cow, and transforming Callisto into a bear.

HOW TO INVOKE HERA:

One way to invoke Hera is through a meditation, such as the Hera invocation meditation, you can try:

Relaxing your muscles, starting with your bust, chest, and stomach

Breathing in through your nose and out through your mouth

Relaxing your shoulders, arms, elbows, wrists, hands, and fingers

Feeling the relaxation in your head, face, forehead, eyes, nose, cheeks, jaw, ears, skull, and hair

Visualizing roots growing from your feet, legs, and tailbone, deep into the earth.

Then light her candles and patiently wait, even meditate on her energy.

PRAYER FOR HERA:

I call to Hera, Queen of lofty Olympus, dark-eyed goddess, beloved of thundering Zeus, radiant daughter of Kronos and blessed Rhea.

In times of old were you well loved, in Argos and in Samos.

Many are the tales told of you; many are your temples, many are your honours, many are the blessings granted by your goodness.

Wise one, insightful one, you discern and devise the way most fitting to achieve your ends.

Hera, in the clear blue sky we recognize your favor, and in a warm spring rain; in a joyous wedding feast, a constant love, and a harmonious home we know you.

Stately and beautiful goddess, friend of women, friend of marriage, protector of home and family, most lovely and most exalted goddess, I call to you, Mother Hera.

SIGNS THAT HERA IS CALLING YOU:

Encounters with The Empress tarot card: The Empress links perfectly with Hera as the Queen of the Gods, as well as the themes of motherhood and partnership to the Emperor (Zeus). Seeing this card repeatedly may signify that Hera is trying to send you a message or guide you in your life.

Gifted apples: apples were a symbol of love, fertility and abundance in Ancient Greece, often gifted to Hera. If you find yourself receiving apples as gifts or encountering them frequently, it could be a sign of her blessing or encouragement in your pursuit of love, partnerships or abundance.

Encountering peacocks: peacocks are often associated with Hera, as they are her sacred animal. Seeing them frequently could be a sign of her presence or a reminder to embrace your inner beauty and confidence. It may be imagery, in design, or the actual animal you repeatedly encounter.

If you have noticed the weather ��feels” exactly how you are, especially when it comes to turbulent moments in relationships or in relation to the tone of a management position, for example, and noticeably so – then this may be a very specific nod.

If you find yourself constantly hearing the name “Hera”, whether it’s in a conversation, on TV or in a book, it could be a sign that she is trying to get your attention.

Feeling drawn to Mount Olympus.

Disconnect from children: whilst not the most positive imagery, if you’re seeing a lot of symbolism and storylines surrounding a mother’s disconnect with her children, it could be Hera sharing that she too struggled with what may have been postpartum depression. This is something that does happen in nature, so it doesn’t necessarily have to be specifically a human situation.

Seeing or hearing more about lions, serpents, cuckoo birds, hawks, eagles, etc.

Dreams about getting married, divorce or widowhood, pregnancy, empowerment, leadership, justice, and power.

OFFERINGS:

Crowns.

Snail or hermit crab shells.

Incense: apple, lotus, pomegranate, rose, myrrh, jasmine, iris, patchouli, and frankincense.

Perfume.

Food and drinks: grains, wine, bread, chocolate, pomegranates, apples, honey, milk, fruit (strawberries, pomegranate, etc), water, olive oil, grapes, beef and other meats, nuts, homemade sweets,

White flowers.

Silver or gold jewelry (especially rings).

Peacock or cuckoo feathers.

Cuckoo clocks.

Peacock paintings, statues, or peacock patterns.

Cuckoo bird art or statues.

Cow paintings, statues, or cow print patterns.

Plants and trees: lily, willow, lotus, poppy, stephanotis, pomegranate, strawberries, cypress, coconut, iris, white rose, apple trees, waterlily, maple trees, and all white flowers.

White, royal blue, purple, dark green, grey, and silver candles.

Throne imagery.

Framed family photos.

Crystals: amethyst, turquoise, pearls, garnet, citrine, amber, diamond, and star sapphires.

DEVOTIONAL ACTS:

If you have a romantic partner surprise them with breakfast in bed, a movie, a massage, booking a romantic retreat for the two of you, etc.

Do housework and keep your home clean.

Stand up for women’s rights.

Honour Her children and Her husband Zeus.

Make a playlist of songs that remind you of Her.

Donate and support domestic abuse victims.

Spend time with those you care about and listen to what they have to say.

Try to help others.

Be kind to children.

Reminisce by looking at old photos on your phone or photographs around your house.

Set time aside in your schedule just for your S.O., children, family, friends, etc.

Turn your bathroom into a spa!

Donate and support charities that help aid in ending child hunger and that support women.

Take a long bath with bubbles, soaks, music, candles, wine, etc.

Speak your mind.

Don’t be afraid to speak your mind and let others know what you want and don’t want.

Donate a dress to organizations like Brides for a Cause or Brides Against Breast Cancer or donate to help fund someone’s wedding/wedding dress.

Take care of yourself, your mental health, and treat yourself to something you want.

Pray to Her and talk with Her about what’s going on in your life, any crushes you have, your romantic partner/s, past relationships, children, etc.

Spend time with your family or loved ones.

Do house chores.

Take care of your physical and mental health.

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naeverse · 1 year ago

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Drunken Love

A/N: OMG guys, it took forever to write this due to my busy schedule as of late, but my classes are now complete. Hooray! 😆🥳 Thank you all for your patience, and I hope you enjoy. ❤️❤️ Art generated on: niji・journey

🥃staring: FatherBestFriend!Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Reader

🍴preview: Without looking at him, you nodded, feeling his burly arm around your waist and soon his breath fanning against your ear. “I want you to forget about your troubles and give your worries to me to bear.” He uttered, caressing your lower back in gentle, loving circles.

“And in return, allow me to make things better for you, mi amor.”

💰summary: After four years of studying abroad, you return home to a 'Welcome Home' party hosted by your father. However, you quickly realize that nothing has changed—your father remains the same rude and selfish man, solely focused on money and his business. As before, you're expected to conform to his strict rules and spend your days under his watchful eye. But with just a glance, Miguel O’Hara, your father’s best friend and business partner, seems to shatter all your desires to comply with your father's suffocating expectations, and offers an enticing escape...

Just like before…

🔥tw/cw: Age Gape, Big Dick Miguel, Body Worship, Car Sex, Cock Bulge, Cunnilingus, Desperation, Dirty Talk, Forbidden love, Modern AU, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Size Difference

❤️‍🔥Pet names: Amor (Love), Bebè (Baby), Cariño (Darling), Mi amor (My love) Princesa (Princess), Querida (Dear)

🖤Rating: 18+ explicit I SMUT I

🥀 Word Count: 8.2k words

As you stepped through the wrought iron gates of your father’s manor, a wave of nostalgia washed over you. It had been four years since you last set foot here, having been away studying abroad. Now, back home, everything felt familiar...

But not in a good way.

The scent of freshly cut grass mingled with the aroma of sizzling meat on the grill, filling the air as your heels clicked cautiously on the smooth paved pathways leading to the center of your father’s luxurious backyard, where your 'Welcome Home' party was to be held. Yet, deep down, you knew it wouldn’t be the warm reception you hoped for.

The atmosphere exuded polished formality, with every blade of grass meticulously groomed to perfection. The yard held an aura that compelled one to straighten their posture and don their most radiant smile. Small tables, draped with white cloth, adorned the grassy area, displaying an array of finger foods and appetizers. Servants circulated with trays of alcoholic beverages, adding to the air of sophistication. Every attendee was elegantly attired, clad in lavish dresses, uptight suits, diamond necklaces, and gold bands, engaged in hushed gossip in small groups.

‘No wonder Jessica styled me this way,’ you thought, scanning the guests who greeted you with smiles, waves, and brief 'Welcome back's.' Jessica Owens, your personal assistant whom you hadn’t seen in years, had welcomed you at the airport and accompanied you to select a divine outfit tailored to your tastes for the occasion.

A one-shoulder column sequin dress hugged your figure, its scarlet red fabric boasting a leg slit that offered a glimpse of the matching closed-toe, ankle strapped heels you wore. Bold chandelier earrings adorned your ears, drawing attention to your exposed shoulder, while a delicate bracelet with sparkling gemstones adorned your wrist, subtly shimmering in the light.

Makeup further accentuated your beauty—a radiant red lip, sultry eyes, and flawless complexion with highlights completed your look. Your hair, styled as per Jessica's suggestion, cascaded around your face, having been released from an updo to frame your features perfectly.

You could feel eyes on you from every direction, a sensation you didn’t miss on your time away. The overwhelming attention began to stir a wave of nervousness within you. Seeking a moment to collect yourself, you slipped away to a secluded corner of the gathering, observing the events of your supposed 'Welcome Back' party from afar.

Musicians played a steady and upbeat tune, chatter and fraudulent giggles echoed throughout the night. Amongst the festivities, an even more rambunctious laugh caught your attention.

Your father, gleaming in a tailored suit, stood at the center of the gathering. Just like you remembered, his smile was as polished and white as the silverware laid out on the tables, scrubbed to perfection and shining like stars. Studying your father like a book, you couldn’t help but notice his forced chuckles and strained cheeks from grinning too much, a sight that churned your stomach.

After all these years, he remained unchanged—viewing you as nothing more than a tool for gaining him attention.

So why the hell did you expect a warm hug and genuine affection from him without a crowd present?

Rolling your eyes, you politely signaled to a nearby server to fetch a champagne glass from his tray. You knew you would need it to endure the rest of the evening filled with your father's rehearsed conversations and gestures.

Taking a long sip from your glass, relishing its divine taste and the sizzling burn down your throat. Upon lifting it from your lips with a contented sigh, a voice filled your ears, causing your heart to skip a beat.

"Look at you, all grown up."

The abruptness of the deep, Latino-accented words left you momentarily speechless, a whirlwind of emotions bursting inside you like fireworks against a starlit sky.

There was no mistaking whose voice it belonged to...

It was one you could never forget during your time away, and just thinking about him made butterflies dance in your belly.

"Miggy?"

You called out the sweet nickname of the older male in shock, turning your gaze up to the towering figure before you, successfully avoiding choking on your champagne in the process.

True to form, his tan face retained its stoic expression, marked by a scowl, tight-knit bushy eyebrows, and stern amber eyes, yet even you could see the familiar corners of his lips draw up into a tight lipped smile.

"It's nice to see you again, Y/N," he replied nonchalantly, causing your entire face to light up. "Miggy!" You exclaimed, throwing your free arm around his neck as he chuckled lowly at your enthusiasm.

"What did I tell you about hugs, hmm?" he inquired, practically whispering into your ear, though you couldn't ignore the loving undertone in his deep voice. "That you didn't like them, but I do it anyway," you giggled, standing on tiptoes to deepen the embrace due to his towering height. Despite himself, you felt one of Miguel's burly arms wrap around you, pulling you close in return.

You sighed in contentment, his body heat engulfing your smaller self compared to his massive 6’9 height and muscular figure. The Latino's woodsy and wealthy cologne clouded your senses just like before, as the nostalgic feeling of security filled your being.

I take it you missed me, Cariño," he uttered from above you, his gruff voice rumbling through the expanse of his chest. You nodded, snuggling into his beige collared and button-up top, eliciting a rare hum of contentment from the typically stoic man.

After a while, his arm gave your body another comforting squeeze before reluctantly pulling away. You pushed back the pang of sadness at his sudden absence of warmth.

Clearing your throat, you redirect your focus, following Miguel's gaze to the bustling, fancy gathering, a tranquil silence settling between the two of you.

"How was studying abroad?" Miguel's deep voice, though always soothing, retained its usual coldness. "It was honestly fun," you smiled, recalling the freedom you enjoyed without the scrutiny of your father's strict eye. To your surprise, Miguel scoffed in amusement, shaking his head.

Your eyebrows raised in confusion, and you turned to see him taking a sip from the glass of bourbon you hadn't noticed before in his hand. "What is it?" you urged, causing him to shake his head dismissively once more. But upon his amber eyes catching your growing pout, an expression you knew was always his weakness, he heaved a sigh.

"Dios mío, ese maldito puchero tuyo." He muttered under his breath, turning to face you fully. "I'm not... pleased with the amount of 'fun' you had away," the older male stated, leaving you confused.

"W-what are you talking about?" you chuckled, watching him nod towards your champagne glass. "You are drinking... You didn't before," he acknowledged.

You followed his gaze to your half-empty champagne glass, a remnant of your previous gulp. "Why does it matter? It's just one glass," you stated, emphasizing your point with another sip, which seemed more like a gulp in Miguel's eyes.

"Querida, before, you could barely handle half a glass, let alone one," he scolded, unable to tear his eyes away from your alcoholic beverage. You gave Miguel a small smile, his overprotectiveness—a trait you actually missed while you were away—evident in every word he uttered.

"Relax," you tried to reassure. "I can handle my alcohol now, Miggy. There's no need to worry." At your words, he huffed, turning his gaze from you back to the gathering unfolding before you. "So you went abroad to become a party animal?" he asked under his breath, the question unsettling you like a disturbed hive. Your face twisted in confusion and a hint of hurt at his comment. "No, I didn't. I went because I wanted to, something I see you still do not understand," you explained, feeling your fingers tighten around the underside of your glass in growing irritation.

Miguel sighed in disapproval, taking a gulp of his dark brown drink. "I just find it hard to believe," he replied. "Studying abroad of all places?" he chuckled, tapping his ringed middle finger against his glass. "I didn't take you as someone to run away from your problems, princesa."

"I didn't run away," you retorted, shooting him a small glare before finding your eyes drawn to your father, who was shaking hands with a well-dressed man and woman. The more you stared at your 53-year-old father, the more your thoughts churned.

‘Did you leave because of your father?’ you pondered as he was indeed one of the reasons, but mainly you departed to study far away from home to pursue your dreams—something your father greatly opposed.

Being away from your father and his strict rules felt like taking a breath of fresh air. It was the most free you had ever felt. But now, back home, the overwhelming restrictions and harsh regulations felt suffocating, and you wanted nothing more than to retreat back to the paradise you found on your own…

Your thoughts were soon interrupted when a set of ringed fingers gently cupped your chin, turning you to meet the owner of such calloused digits.

With surprise, you found yourself face-to-face with Miguel, his features still stern, his jaw clenched, but his touch gentle, and the coldness in his eyes replaced with something softer.

"I missed you, mi amor..."

He whispered suddenly, his thumb caressing your skin affectionately. Your heart fluttered at the vulnerability in his words, as memories of every moment spent with him flooded back: Every conversation, every touch, every kiss, and every passionate night rose to the surface of your mind.

Like a reviving fire, his mere words set your body ablaze.

You never saw Miguel in this state, never heard him utter something affectionate to you as his love was mostly shown through his actions, making his confession leave you shocked and speechless...

Despite your disapproval and your desire for him to move on, Miguel had waited for you as he promised. The thought of you being gone from his side was unbearable for him.

Every waking moment was excruciating, every sleeping night insufferable.

He knew how much you wanted to pursue your own dreams and be free of your father, whom Miguel knew all too well as someone very snobbish and selfish. But being away from you for so long was a pain he couldn't bear.

You and Miguel loved each other in secret, the two of you became so good at pretending, one only saw you two as just friends. But your father and Miguel were close—

Very close.

Miguel and your father were business partners before they were best friends. Your father managed the finances and marketing of their shared bourbon line, while Miguel owned distilleries and oversaw production, even owning his own bars where his bourbon was the highlighted beverage.

Their booming business soon forged a friendship, and like welcoming one to the family, your father introduced Miguel to you.

At the time, you were young, and Miguel was evidently older, but when your eyes met, you both fell hard.

You started off as friends, Miguel being a wise, older male you went to for advice, and you were someone who kept Miguel company, even though he once adored being alone.

The more time you spent together, the deeper your feelings grew, until you both made it official to date in secret.

From then on, private getaways, hidden touches, and shared nights of passion became the norm, despite knowing how enraged your father would be if he discovered such a thing. But neither of you minded; staying attentive and careful kept your secret safe.

It wasn't until you confided in Miguel about your desires to leave and study abroad that reality kicked in.

All at once, your hidden life of fantasy collapsed.

You were going to leave to pursue your dreams, departing from Miguel for four years...

Miguel loathed that, and even more, he despised your reasoning. He wanted it to be because of your strict father, the overbearing rules he'd set upon you. Miguel didn't mind if you left because of him even! But you weren't going for either of those reasons.

"For me, Miggy. I want to go for myself," were the words you stated when he inquired why you must go.

He detested your reason because he knew he shouldn't fight you in the matter; it was what you desired. But he was selfish—possessive even. He wanted you, needed you by his side, so he couldn't accept you leaving him.

Many arguments ensued on the matter. He demanded you to stay, while you found every good reason to leave and achieve your dreams, ones that your father opposed you seeking. It ultimately led to you deciding to put an end to your secret relationship with Miguel.

It wasn't because of the many fights and arguments, but because you knew he loved you too much—too much that you didn't want him to miss you so intensely that it hurt, to the point where it would leave him in an irreparable state.

To spare you distress and further heartbreak, Miguel agreed to end things, despite his sorrow and disdain at the thought of breaking up. However, while you were concerned about his emotional stability, Miguel's workaholic tendencies got the best of him after your departure—a trait only you could suppress.

He threw himself into his shared bourbon business with your father, meticulously tasting from each of his twenty distilleries, meeting daily with all his workers for updates, making significant improvements on the bars he oversaw, and even holding one-on-one meetings with your father to explore new ways to expand their bourbon industry. He became addicted to caffeine and deprived himself of sleep, to the point where hibernation seemed like the only cure to replenish his exhausted body.

Miguel worked tirelessly in this manner simply to avoid missing you, and he consumed so much of his own bourbon that he might as well have emptied an entire distillery on his own.

Nevertheless, his attempts were useless…

Miguel thought of you and craved you every day. He spent his days recalling every aspect of you: your smile, your laugh, your fragrance, your hair, your body, and even your affection, which he once found discomforting due to his lack of familiarity with it, but now desired more than ever.

Despite Miguel's best efforts to forget you, he only fell deeper in love with you.

His days of agony came to an end when Miguel was invited to dinner and golfing with your father. There, on the field, Miguel discovered that you'd be returning back home—back to him.

His heart skipped a beat at the exciting news, leaving him unable to perform a good swing as his golf game with your father proceeded; but to hell with it...

You were returning, and that was all that mattered.

On the day of your Welcome Back party, he found himself picky over his outfit, clicking his tongue and angrily muttering in Spanish at every disappointing attire he came across... until he found the one.

A beige, loosely buttoned top, styled with a matching sienna brown blazer and dress pants was his selection. Pairing it with his attire, he added dark umber oxfords.

To accessorize, the Latino added a complementary belt that matched his shoes and a classic watch with brown leather straps. Gold rings adorned his thick fingers, and a simple chain graced his exposed, muscular throat.

As he put on his outfit for the party, he found himself more nervous than excited. The last few times he'd seen you weren't on good terms. The days of secret getaways, kisses, and passionate touches always led to an argument about your departure, so he was worried you'd still be upset with him…

At the gathering, he found himself eagerly watching the entrance for you, his glass of bourbon in hand. His heart rose and fell with each arrival of another lavishly dressed guest, leading him to believe you wouldn't show.

Until you did...

It felt like everything stopped—the melodic tunes from the musicians faded away, the jumbled conversing of the partygoers ceased—as the only thing he heard was his heart beating loudly against his chest.

You were always beautiful to the older male, but tonight, after not seeing you for so long, you were utterly breathtaking.

His gaze trailed along your figure, remembering all the times he held your form in his hands, felt your body heat, and soft skin. He instantly noticed how enticing that scarlet dress hugged your body, teasing him to do the unthinkable right there, be damned to who was watching.

But amidst his burning desire, in that moment, he could only think one thing, and one thing only:

"Gosh, I've missed you..."

Before he could ponder or stop himself, he found himself leaving his spot to walk over to you, and the closer he got, the more his heart felt like it wanted to burst from his chest as flashes of what you shared before played on repeat in his head.

And now as you gazed up into Miguel's hardened amber eyes, you could see love for you in them. His thumb gently tracing patterns along your chin as you were still processing his touch, the closeness and the confession that spilled from his lips.

‘He... missed me?’ You repeated to yourself, almost finding it unbelievable if it wasn't for how he was looking at you as if you were the only woman in the room.

“M-Miggy…” You whispered when suddenly your heart dropped at the sound of another voice approaching.

“Why, if it isn't my little angel?”

Like the speed of light, you jumped away from Miguel to cast your eyes onto your father, instinctively gaining the urge to hide behind your champagne glass.Miguel's face returned to its usual expression of stoicism, hating how the both of you were interrupted.

“Hello, father,” you said, lacking your previous enthusiasm that you showed Miguel, however, your father ignored you, hastily turning his eyes to his best friend and business partner instead. “And, of course, Miguel O'Hara,” your father grinned, giving the Latino a firm handshake before going into a ramble. “I'd love to set a meeting with you about the idea of releasing a limited-edition bourbon,” he proposed in a jolly tone, business seeming to be the only topic he spoke of.

“Imagine just how much buzz would circulate amongst customers, the collectors, and don't forget the drive sales,” your father beamed at the thought as you watched the interaction between the two men in silence.

Miguel simply grunted to show his attentiveness, but neither agreed nor disagreed with your father's business idea. “I'd rather enjoy welcoming your daughter home. We can speak about business at another time,” Miguel stated, casting a glance over at you before turning his sharp gaze back to your father.

Your dad's smile faltered at being dismissed, clearing his throat. “Of course, of course,” he concurred, turning to you due to Miguel’s mentioning of you, his daughter. “I'm happy you are… back, daughter. I hope you used your time away wisely,” he added, causing your eyebrows to narrow. ‘Wisely? What the hell does that mean?!’ you thought, knowing your father was an expert at backhanded comments and sly insults that can be described like poisoned cake—you never noticed the venom underneath his sweetness.

“I did. I enjoyed doing something to benefit myself for a change,” you politely said, adding more salt into the wound by downing the rest of your champagne. Your father's eyes looked down at your empty glass and then at you in irritation.

Casting a fake smile, he glanced at Miguel. “My apologies in advance, my friend, but it's nothing new seeing my disobedient daughter behave so poorly,” your father said, feeling your stomach twist into knots when he looked back at you, his facade of kindness dissolved into a snarl. “She thinks that she owns the place after leaving for a few years, it's only right I put her back in her place,” your father stated to Miguel, more than you.

Keeping your gaze on your horrible parent rather than the older Latino, you waited for your father's harsh words knowing they were to rain down on you like hellfire, and like anticipated…

it did…

“Listen here, girl, you might have fled from here for whatever reason, but I didn't,” he spat, eyes full of hatred staring back at you. “Without me, our family name would have been forgotten long ago; but for the entirety of my fifty-three years of life, I've worked my ass off to provide for us, and I'll continue to do so until my dying breath,” he said in anger between the three of you.

“And now that you've returned, I won't allow my selfish brat of a daughter to ruin things for me,” your father growled as you narrowed your eyes at him, reciprocating his disdain, but it only seemed to amuse him even more. He chuckled, giving your cheek a harsh pinch. “So do not think being away changes a thing, I expect the same from you as before—obedience and perfection,” he said, patting your face with each word. “Understand, or do I need Miguel here to say it in Spanish for you?” he asked with a smirk as it took everything to prevent the frustrated and angry tears from spilling down your cheeks.

You couldn't hear or see anything or anyone, only feel the overwhelming feeling of entrapment once again. It engulfed your being, feeling like a pair of hands were strangling you, and you were powerless against it…

All over again.

With a shaky breath, you stared back at him with eyes full of raging fire. “Yes…I fucking understand,” you said through gritted teeth, causing the businessman to laugh.

“Good and clean that attitude, girl. I never did like that mouth of yours,” he said, glancing over at Miguel, whose face was still completely hardened, emotionless, but a kinder tone was used by your father when speaking with him. “If you'd like, the meat is being served at the buffet table as we speak, my friend. I heard it's very tender and is satisfactory when hot,” your father smiled. “But I hope you enjoy the gathering. Miguel. Daughter,” he growled, casting you a glare and a hint of disgust found in the way he addressed you before he departed entirely—disappearing into the bustling yard of elegantly clothed persons and leaving you enraged.

You stared at the spot your father previously stood in, a blazing fire of anger sizzling inside your being. Gripping your wine glass so tightly your knuckles whitened, you turned on your heel, shoving the empty cup into a passing servant's hands on your way out.

Everything faded around you as the only thing you desired in that moment was getting away—from this party, rich society, and most importantly, your asshole of a father. You didn’t walk far before a large hand grasped your wrist, pulling you into a secluded spot out of the ear and eyeshot of the partygoers.

With a piercing gaze, you looked up, ready to release the fury that had grown inside of you when your eyes met Miguel’s narrowed, yet, concerned ones. His towering frame cornered you against the trunk of one of your father’s massive oak trees in his backyard, a tree he ordered to be particularly planted in this area.

Although Miguel normally didn’t care for others, finding empathy a hard thing, his heart tugged whenever you became like this. “Are you alright? It looks like you want to strangle someone?” He asked, amber eyes tracing every detail of your face in search of what you were feeling inside, but your turmoil was evident.

You released an unsteady exhale, the calm before the brewing storm. “Y-You saw him!” You exclaimed. “T-That rich bastard that has his money shoved so far up his damn ass, he’ll probably believe the sky is green if it means his pockets will be filled.” You ranted in anger, every word making you feel so much better, leaving you to continue your spurge. “And he’s so controlling that it’s suffocating; whenever my father is in the room…, I-I feel like I’m dying, Miguel.” The confession left your lips before you could stop yourself, angry tears beginning to run down your face.

“A-And, he pretends he’s such a great father, going around speaking of me—of my hobbies, interests, and so much more that is all bullshit. He doesn’t know and doesn’t care to know.” You cried, trying to wipe your cheeks clean of the tears, but they continued to fall despite your efforts. “My father only cares about himself, more than anything else.” You said in a brittle voice.

“The world can end tomorrow and he’ll still be trying to get over on everyone, and count every dime he has to make sure his pockets are hefty before his time ends.” You sniffled, shaking your head in irritation, the fury in your voice escaping into sorrow. “And…I’m just done. I can’t- I can’t do this anymore.” You admitted with a trembling sigh.

“I can’t be around him anymore, live with his lies, under his rules, and like I cannot exist in his presence.” You told Miguel as after your venting, you looked up at him to find his usual stoic features staring back at you. His tanned face devoid of emotion as he simply stood over you, listening like he always did.

You bit your lip, feeling a little embarrassed after saying so many deep things to Miguel—things you’ve never actually told him in-depth, but could simply be noticed as your father didn’t hold anything back from the rich Latino. “I’m sorry, I-I’ll just go.” You said, trying to walk around him when his hand was placed onto the tree behind you, blocking you under him. “No.” He said with the shake of his head, his coffee-brown curls swaying with the movement.

You gasped, eyes snapping up to meet him in confusion when his large hand cupped your rose-tinted cheek, his thumb delicately swiping away a stray tear. “I hated the way he speaks to you; I’ve always did.” He uttered, disdain found in his deep tone. “I’ve offered you many times in the past, Querida, to let me handle it— let me handle your father, and you turn me down each and every time.” He sighed, his amber orbs staring down at you in a blend of rage for the situation you were in, but also in sympathy.

A frown graced your lips, remembering what he spoke of. “Yes…I-I did, because it’s my burden to take on—my problem to deal with, not yours.” You tried to explain. “And if you intervene, it’ll surely ruin things with your shared business with my father.”

“To hell with it.” He spat, his hand moving from your cheek to grasp your hips possessively. “We've tried it your way for years and nothing has changed.” He retorted in anger. “Your father continues to treat you like muck on his shoe while I have to sit and watch.” Miguel said, his eyes narrowed in irritation, his jaw clenched, but his anger settled upon seeing your tears start to flow once more.

“Listen to me, Cariño.” He began, staring into your eyes. “Your burdens are my burdens—your problems are my problems.” He said, determination etched on his tanned face. “I will not sit around any longer and allow your father to treat you like this, I can’t, and I won’t.” He blatantly told you.

Your heart fluttered at his words, despite not agreeing with Miguel's logic. Looking over his stern features, you could see that there was no way you could stop him—when his mind and heart were set on something, he sought to see it through. You averted your gaze away from the Latino, torn on the newfound decision he’d made.

A quietness settled between the two of you, the gentle breeze of the wind, tunes and laughter from the distant party filling the silence.

Miguel's thick eyebrows furrowed, not expecting your reaction to be this. He rubbed your hip soothingly, trying to meet your gaze once more. “May you do something for me, Querida…? Y/N?” He said, your name being uttered by him was rare, using it only during serious talks, just like this one.

Without looking at him, you nodded, feeling his burly arm around your waist and soon his breath fanning against your ear. “I want you to forget about your troubles and give your worries to me to bear.” He uttered, caressing your lower back in gentle, loving circles.

“And in return, allow me to make things better for you, mi amor.”

His words made your stomach flip as your head snapped to meet his gaze. Since you’ve arrived back home, a new side of Miguel has been introduced to you—one that you had never seen.

Before, he was always cold and stern, mostly only affectionate through a slight caress of the cheek, stroke of the hair, or even through a kiss that usually was controlled and led by him.

He’d never actually spoken sentiments in this way to you, and it made you utterly speechless.

“M-Miggy, I-” You tried to reply but your brain had become mush. Miguel gave you a tight-lipped smile, shushing you with a shake of his head once more. “Come…” He simply whispered, taking your wrist and turning to leave when you hastily stopped him. “Wait, wait, we can’t just leave together. I-It’ll lead to suspicion,” you told the Latino. Despite your hate for your father and the status your family held, you didn’t want to anger him, nor damage his most cherished reputation, believing you’ll surely bring a monster out of your father if you did so.

Miguel looked back at you with tenderness in his eyes. “What did I tell you, hmm?” He asked with a smirk, his gaze instantly mesmerizing you and leaving you unable to speak once more. “Let me take care of things with your father and the rich assholes out there,” he assured in his gruff voice that usually held a rough edge, now gone and replaced with a loving tone that made you melt.

The Latino leaned in close to you, his arm pulling you to his body by your waist. Miguel gazed down at you, his rich, woodsy cologne filling your senses and the feeling of his pecs against your body made a rush of desire burn up inside of you, replacing the fire of hate you previously felt for your father. “Let me make things better for you, amor,” he told you once more, but this time, the adoration for you was evident in his voice.

Your heart skipped a beat, noticing just how close the two of you were—lips just a hair's breadth away. “O-Okay,” you finally mustered, unable to prevent yourself from pulling him into a searing kiss. Miguel groaned in surprise, his hand gripping your waist tightly while his other clawed into your hair, drawing you closer to him.

Gasps of air escaped you, incapable of stopping as with every kiss, it cured the need that you both craved of each other. Teeth clashed and tongues entwined, hands gripping clothes to try and close the nonexistent space between each of your bodies. You only parted when in the distance, a loud applause filled the air, one that startled you both.

Jumping in each other’s embrace, you shared a gaze over at the gathering to find your father in the center, continuing to entertain his guests, their attention solely on him.

You rolled your eyes at the anticipated sight, turning back to Miguel to see that he was already staring at you. His amber orbs burned with longing, and when he pulled you close once more, you could feel his evident bulge pressing into your thigh.

“I can't wait another minute, amor. I need you. Now,” he practically demanded in a hushed whisper into your ear, a kiss pressed upon your lobe following his desire. However, his words and arousal sparked a fire inside of you, matching his own longing.

With just a shared gaze, he knew your response without you having to utter a single word…

‘Let's get out of here.’

Your fingers combed through Miguel’s coffee brown curls, pulling him deeper into the intoxicating kiss you shared as his large hands roamed your bare skin. You moaned into his lips when his hand grasped your breasts, squeezing the sensitive flesh. His ministrations caused the peaked tips to harden as his fingers didn’t hesitate to flick and roll them. Miguel’s mouth continued to ravage yours, your moans becoming lost in your shared passion.

Your eyes fluttered, trying to recall past events on how the two of you ended up in the backseat of his black Lamborghini Urus, unclothed and practically devouring each other like two rabid animals; but the only thing that came to mind was the burning desire to feel him, touch him, taste him...

Just like before...

“G-goodness, I missed you.” You whimpered between kisses, his lips trailing along your jaw as his massive body pressed you into the leather cushions, his heavy weight and body heat only arousing you further.

He breathlessly chuckled against your throat, pressing a final kiss to your skin before meeting your eyes. “As have I, mi amor,” he confessed, looking down at you with newfound love in his brown orbs. Your heart palpated at the sight as he leaned in to press another kiss to your lips. “Allow us to make up for lost time,” he whispered with a smirk. To your delight, he began to lower down your body, leaving a trail of kisses in his wake: on your collarbone, through the valley of your breasts, to your navel, and finally settling between your thighs.

He passionately kissed your sensitive, plush skin before lifting your legs up to drape over his broad shoulders, bringing himself face-to-face with what he truly desired. You gasped, your lower back arching and rising off the soft cushions of the truck's seat, thankful for the enormity of your father's best friend's vehicle, as it provided plenty of space for all the activities you wished to partake in.

Your breathing came out shaky from anticipation, the warm air from your lover's lips onto your moist core doing nothing to calm your excitement. “Are you going to make love to it or simply stare?” You asked, almost breathless despite not even reaching the peak of your intimacy yet.

Miguel laughed at your fervency, his massive body rumbling. He glanced down, his eyes meeting yours. “I'm just admiring what is mine, amor—what has been away from me for so long,” he huskily uttered, running his thumb delicately along your folds and pressing a tender kiss to your inner thigh, the sensation spreading through your body like wildfire.

“I... appreciate the admiration, but I don't think I can wait any longer,” you honestly told him with a small panting giggle. Reaching up to run your fingers through his brown curls, a deep hum of satisfaction escaped his throat at your touch.

"So eager for me, princesa. Always so eager," he groaned, pressing a kiss to your throbbing bud before flicking out his tongue to taste your arousal. The sensation eliciting a loud gasp from deep within your chest.

"Mierda, sabes tan bien… Tal y como lo recordaba," he rambled gruffly in Spanish, burying his face into your heat and wrapping his arms around your midsection to pull you closer. His desire to not part from between your thighs was evident in the growing tightness of his bulging biceps around you—his muscles gripping you in a vice like a starving man with his rations.

Your eyes rolled, the sensations so foreign yet familiar as his tongue seemed to be everywhere at once: circling your bud, thrusting into your entrance, and sucking at your soft folds. “O-Oh gosh!” you exclaimed, realizing just how much your body had been craving and missing his skillful intimacy, his age undoubtedly playing a role in his experience.

An unshakable burning sensation in the pit of your stomach began to brew, the position Miguel held you in leaving you only able to succumb to the pleasure he was bestowing upon you. Your hands tangled in his hair, not having anything else to grasp onto, while your back arched into his mouth, seeking more of his lips and tongue.

“Muy bien, babygirl. Hmm…let me taste you.” He groaned, his breath ragged with desire. His thumbs widened your pussy lips, your soft hood lifting to expose your bundle of nerves as he focused his ministrations on the pink pearl. Like his life was at stake, his tongue suckled and swirled on your throbbing bud in a frenzy until you were a trembling mess underneath him.

“M-Miggy!” You cried out, convulsing and shaking in his arms. “I-I’m cumming!” You screamed out, feeling him smirk against your core. “That's my girl. Come for me, princesa,” he urged, his efforts intensifying as your sensitivity increased. With a cry of ecstasy, you released the coil of knots in your belly, feeling your thighs become drenched in your juices, eagerly slurped up by your lover.

Miguel adored when you were like this, a twitching, moaning puddle underneath him, knowing he was the sole cause of it. It always left him with a sense of pride.

With his tongue, he traced a final circle around your folds and kissed your clit before lowering your legs back down upon the seats. He hummed in satisfaction at your flushed cheeks and heaving chest, finding the sight utterly beautiful.

“How’s my girl? Not too much, I hope?” he asked with a breathless chuckle, climbing up to brush a strand of your disheveled hair behind your ear and press a kiss to your temple. You sighed in contentment, his tenderness sending a wave of warmth through your being.

You shook your head at his inquiry, eyes slowly flicking up to meet his gaze above you. “No, I’m okay,” you replied, bringing a smile upon the normally scowling male’s face. “Muy bien. I’m not done with you just yet, baby girl,” he snickered, pressing his forehead against yours, his musk and cologne filling your senses. “I promised to make you feel better. I plan to stand by that,” he affirmed, gently pecking your lips. Your heart swelled, and your core throbbed back to life at his words. You returned his kiss eagerly, wrapping your arms around his muscular neck as his gold chain dangled from his throat.

When Miguel parted and gazed down at you, he saw nothing but devotion and love for him in your eyes—a sight that he’d never thought he’d see before. He nuzzled his face into your neck, relishing in your divine scent that he’d missed so much. Miguel’s hands caressed your bare waist, feeling the soft skin underneath his calloused, ringed fingers. His cock was painfully hard, the only thing soothing his need was the subtle grinding of his member against your thighs, and even still it wasn’t helping.

You bit your lip, feeling just how solid and needy he was, the knowledge only making you wetter. “M-Miggy…I need you,” you whimpered, wanting nothing more than to feel him after so long. Miguel grinned, finding your pleas to be music to his ears. He pressed a final kiss to your neck before parting, his hands grasping around your thighs to widen your legs for him.

A soft moan passed your lips at the contact of his tip brushing teasingly along your drenched folds, the erotic wet sounds echoing throughout the vehicle. “Are you ready for me, bebé?” Miguel practically groaned, his hand gripping your thigh, caressing gentle circles into your skin with his thumb. Biting your lip, you frantically nodded, unable to speak with how quickly your heart was beating and how filled with anticipation you were to be claimed by him again after your time apart.

Miguel growled at your response, guiding his length into your entrance as your joined moans filled the truck. You whined, feeling your walls stretch to accommodate his girthy length. “S-So big, Miggy,” you whimpered, burying your face into your arms.

The Latino grunted, glancing up to see your concealed face. He took your arms in his hands, drawing, placing them to your sides to expose your facial features to his amber eyes. “I want to see you, amor,” he whispered. “I want to see my sweet girl’s face.” He murmured, leaning down to kiss your lips while waiting for you to adjust.

Soft groans escaped him between kisses at each pulse of your walls around his length. Each peck of your lips was meant to be a cure for his burning desire to fuck your sweet pussy in total abandon after four years of being deprived of it; so he stuck to devouring your mouth whilst waiting for the magic words of your adjustment.

“I-I’m ready,” you told him between his intoxicating kisses, and Miguel promptly began to move. His thrusts started off slow and precise, each of his languid movements pulling a moan from deep within your chest. “S-So good…Miggy,” you were only able to muster, feeling every vein of his massive cock with his steady pace.

Miguel’s amber eyes were always trained on your face, constantly finding adoration for the pleasurable expressions that graced your beautiful features when the two of you were intimate. He leaned down over you, deepening his plunges as he gradually increased his speed until he snapped his hips into you in a frenzy.. “Yes, mierda, you feel so damn good…Fuck. Squeezing me just right,” he hoarsely said, his dark brown curls dampening against his forehead, and his grip on your hips tightening with each thrust.

Your eyes fluttered, hips moving to meet each of his movements. “M-Miggy…right there,” you begged, feeling your lover angle his hips to hit your desired spot repeatedly, causing your climax to hit you instantly. Your loud cry of pleasure erupted throughout the darken truck causing Miguel to smirk, pleased with bringing you to your orgasm so quickly; but not finished just yet. “Yes, princesa. There we go,” he muttered with pants. “But we’re not through yet, bebè. One more,” Miguel said. “Give me one more, babygirl.” He groaned, your stomach coiling again at his desire for you to release a second time as his thrusts resumed. .

The older Latino’s muscles flexed, his pecs and abs glistening with sweat and bulging with each brutal buck, his balls smacking into your ass. You could feel his pent-up frustration for your departure from him for the previous four years, every roll of his hips expressing his longing. “Fuck…I missed this pussy of yours, princesa,” he grunted. “Always so wet and tight for me,” he groaned between loud smacks of wet flesh.

Your chest heaved, legs trembling around his body as his shaft seemed to touch places inside of you that you didn't even know existed. Every plunge of his cock took your breath away, leaving only inaudible moans and slurred, unintelligible words to spill from your lips. Miguel cursed breathlessly, his eyes never leaving your face. He placed a hand above your head on the car seat, his thrusts deepening and making your eyes roll.

Miguel could feel himself slipping; he was close—he was certain of that, but he wasn’t going to let himself go until you did for the second time. Leaning down, his mouth found your enticing peaked tits, his tongue swirling around your erect nipples. Your eyes screwed shut, back arching off of the cushions of the seat at the added pleasure coursing through your being. Miguel growled softly, sucking your breast into his mouth whilst his other hand dipped down between your legs, his thumb circling your throbbing clit.

With his ministrations, skilled tongue, and brutal pace, your body began to squirm underneath him, all of the sensations becoming too much to bear. A fire seemed to dance along your skin before your vision blurred, and soon another satisfying release washed over you. Miguel's lips pulled away from your breasts, the clenching of your walls bringing him to his climax. “Y/N- Ay cono, I’m cumming,” he said, plunging inside for the final time before a guttural groan erupted from his large chest. He hastily pulled out, his seed shooting from his tip to coat your bare stomach. You softly moaned, feeling his warm essence upon your abdomen, and soon his massive body atop yours once more.

A quiet silence fell upon the truck except for the panting of your joined breaths. You smiled softly down at him, finding his head upon your chest to be precious. “I take it that someone missed me,” you whispered playfully into the quietness once you caught your breath, repeating the same words he said upon the two of you seeing each other after four long years. He chuckled, rubbing your sides tenderly. “Must I admit it?” he asked, making you laugh. “Yes, it’ll make me very happy.”

“Fine,” Miguel stated, looking up to meet your eyes as amusement was gone from his features to become slightly serious. “When you were gone, I was a mess. I didn’t sleep, I drank a lot, and my work filled my days,” he confessed with a sigh, your heart sinking at his words. “Miggy…” you frowned, running your fingers through his hair to soothe him. Miguel melted at your caresses, eyes fluttering closed for a moment to relish in your touch. “I tried to forget you, but forgetting you only made the memories we shared even more prominent, making me want you further, crave you even, despite us being separated,” Miguel told you, while you listened. “So yes… I missed you so much, Y/N,” he smiled, leaning down to peck your lips. “And don’t leave me again, you understand?” he asked playfully, but you couldn’t help but feel that he meant it.

You cupped his face in your hand, stroking his cheek with your thumb. “I promise. I won’t be leaving ever again, but if I do… I’ll take you with me,” you giggled, bringing a small smile upon his lips. However, the topic made your father arise in your thoughts, as any reason for leaving would be because of him.

Miguel noticed the saddened look that suddenly graced your features, causing his thick eyebrows to furrow. “What’s wrong, mi amor?” he asked, sitting up on the cushion of his truck’s seat, his hand gently rubbing your legs.

You sighed, biting your lip nervously. “My father… I can’t go back,” you admitted to not only Miguel but to yourself. The mere idea of returning to him, his suffocating rules, and lifestyle felt like a death sentence. The older Latino male gave you an emotionless look, his fingers tracing patterns along your calf, his mind seeming to be spinning.

“Then don’t…”

Miguel's sudden proposal surprising you. "W-what?" you asked in disbelief, your shock making him chuckle. "Then don’t go back… live with me," he suggested. Skeptical, you eyed him, trying to determine if he was joking, but Miguel was always serious, so you knew he was being truthful.

"But… I can’t just… stay with you, Miggy. It’ll draw suspicion—"

"Shh…" Miguel interrupted with a smirk, stroking your cheek softly with the back of his hand. "I won’t allow my girl to go back to a place where she isn’t comfortable," he explained. "So live with me,’ he stated once more. “I’ll provide for all your wants and needs, allow you to behave and speak however you like without any restrictions holding you down." Miguel's sincere voice was one you trusted more than anyone else's on this planet.

"And… what if this angers my father?" you asked warily as Miguel chuckled. "You wouldn’t have to worry about that. You won’t have to see your father unless you wish to," he assured with a smirk. "And don’t concern yourself with me; the bastard cannot hurt me even if he tried," he added, reassuring you further. Your heart soared at his words.

For the first time in your life, you were given a solution—an escape from your father and the enslaved life he’d placed you into. You pulled Miguel into a deep embrace, surprising him with the sudden affection, but he returned it nonetheless, wrapping his burly arms around you and pulling you close.

Miguel caressed your bare lower back, relishing in your closeness as your next words made his entire body become rigid.

“I love you, Miggy.”

The endearing words escaped your lips, something he thought was as ethereal as your shared love for each other. Before he could ponder it, he found himself uttering the same words back—and wholeheartedly meaning it.

“I love you too, Querida.”

In that moment, you couldn’t fathom how happy you were about your freedom, but you were even more delighted that you could finally be happy with the man you loved.

Certainly, there would be challenges and obstacles in the future, but you’ve never felt stronger and more confident to tackle them with Miguel O’Hara, your secret lover and father’s best friend, by your side.

A/N: Thanks so much for reading!! I just want to say again that I'm very thankful for the patience that you, lovely people have given me for the past few weeks, months probably. 😅 So I'm very grateful. 😊

I have many story ideas, requests and the kink series, Entangled Desires to get to, I can only hope that I'm able to get more things out to you wonderful people in the next couple of days or so. There is a lot to get done as you can see lol! 😅

But once again, thank so much, and just want to give a shoutout to @serpentineaerodynamics. This girlie has been getting my brain flowing, since I've returned and she's gotten me pumped to get back into the groove of things. 💪🏽😁 So thank you bestie! Love ya! 🫶🏽🫶🏽

Make sure to like, comment, reblog, and follow! If you'd like to add a request to the kink series, Entangled Desire, or have an idea in general, just message me or submit an ask. I hope you all have a wonderful day and stay safe! ❤️❤️

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chris-hallelujah · 10 months ago

Text

English Love Affair | m.s.

Matt x fem!OC

Warnings: smut, oral (f receiving), pet names (baby, princess, etc.), p in v (protected), slight dom!Matt, foul language MINORS DNI

Word Count: 2.1k

A/N: Hi everyone! This is my first time writing a fanfic since like 2016 and my first time ever writing smut. Please let me know if it sucks. This is a song fic based on 'English Love Affair' by 5sos. I have not seen this done before for the triplets, however there are HUNDREDS of pieces out there so if someone has done this please let me know. All ideas are my own and I do not give anyone the right to post this to another platform or plagiarize my work.

The Sturniolo Triplets had just finished their final show of the international leg of their tour. In order to give the boys and their team a break from the constant go, go, go of tour, it was deemed best to let them stay in London for a few days before heading back to L.A.

Somehow Nick had heard about a local club, The Black Dog, that was the hot spot of the night. Laura encouraged them to go, make some connections with other creators, and celebrate the ending of tour.

Flashing their IDs to the bouncer at the door, they walked in immediately being hit with the night life atmosphere. Loud music blasted through various speakers, the bar was humid with a smell of alcohol and sweat.

Matt sat at a table with Chris across from him, flirting with some girl. Nick had made his way into the crowd of people dancing after he connected with some friends he knew. Chris and the girl shared whispers and giggles back and forth while Matt sipped on his root beer, scrolling through instagram on his phone.

It started on a weekend in May, I was looking for attention, needed intervention. Felt somebody looking at me. With a powder white complexion, feeling the connection.

A suspicious feeling came over Matt as he felt a pair of eyes on him. He looked up from his phone and around the room, locking eyes with a gorgeous brunette a few feet away.

She stood leaning against the wall with a group of friends. A short gold dress hugged her curves like it was handmade for her. She took a sip from her drink and winked at him in the process. He felt his cheeks flush a bit and a smirk come across his face. The girl said something to her friends and began to make her way across the floor to the table. Chris glanced over at Matt and then followed his gaze. Seeing the approaching girl, Chris grabbed the hand of the girl he had been talking to, gave Matt an encouraging pat on the back of his shoulder and went to the dance floor.

By now the distance between Matt and the mystery girl had closed. She smirked and flirtatiously took his drink from him and took a sip. “Well hi there” Matt said with a slight chuckle, “I’m Matt.”

“Ella,” she said returning the drink to his hand, letting her fingers linger on his a bit longer than necessary. “An American boy, huh? What brings you here?” She asked her English accent coming through despite the loud music.

Oh, yea I’m actually famous and just got done touring. How was Matt supposed to explain his travels without sounding cocky? “Uh, I’m traveling with my brothers. They’re somewhere out there.” He gestured to the crowd of people on top of the color changing dance floor.

“And they’ve left you alone? How lucky am I.” Her confidence made her radiant in the best way. Not egotistical but she knew she looked good and she knew she wanted whatever Matt had to offer. She took a step closer to the barstool he was sitting on and leaned into his ear, “since we already swapped spit on your drink, how about we keep this party going?” Her breath tickling his ear. He felt his pants tighten and he wrapped an arm around her waist.

“Oh yea? And what is it that you suggest?” The tension between these two was buzzing.

Before I knew it, it was serious. Dragged me out the bar to the back seat of her car.

Her hand wrapped around his wrist and she led him out the door of the bar. A black SUV was parked not far from The Black Dog. Matt opened the back door and let Ella climb in before following after her. He pulled the door shut behind them and as he turned back he felt her lips smash into his. She was kissing him like he was the air she needed to breathe and Matt was in no way planning on stopping her. Her dress had rode up from all of the movement which gave Matt the perfect access to smack her ass. She let out a small whimper and buried her head into his neck as they both took a moment to catch their breath. "Let's go back to my place, yea?" she managed to get out, "I only had soda, I can drive." Matt nodded and helped her climb into the driver's seat before getting in the passenger himself. Surely Chris and Nick would be able to get back to the hotel down the street on their own.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Next thing we were back at her place, a hideaway in Mayfair, all the great and good there.

The car pulled into her driveway and the duo quickly made their way inside, Matt's hand maintaining contact with Ella's waist. As soon as they crossed through the doorway, Matt spun her around and pressed her against the door. The lack of touch during the car ride was making them both hungrier for any sort of relief. Their tongues battled for dominance, hands exploring the other's body.

The story line was so ridiculous. Every single step had me begging for the next. Before I knew it, it was serious. Dragged me up the stairs and it wasn't ending there.

Ella pulled away and took Matt's wrist yet again. She led him up the stairwell and into a door at the far end of the hallway. They passed a few other doors on their way. "Do you have roommates?" he whispered, slowly becoming aware of the situation they were in and how crazy this may look to someone else.

Ella nodded, "Yes, Sophie and Emma. But they are with our other friends at the bar," she paused and checked the time on her phone, "They won't be home for a little while, don't worry." This was music to his ears.

"Fuckin' fantastic," he muttered against her lips. The bedroom floor turned into a mess of thrown clothes as they made their way to her bed. Matt laid her down and crawled on top of her. One hand grasped her boob as he kissed all over her chest, nipping and sucking, leaving purple marks. Ella's hands were digging into his back leaving red lines all over.

"Matt," she whined, "don't make me wait any longer, please!" He chuckled against her chest and began to pepper kisses down her stomach. He got level with the black, lacy underwear that was the only thing left on her body.

"What a shame, these are so pretty," he hummed before looping his finger underneath and ripping the fabric off. No, like, literally ripping them off. "I'll buy you new ones, whatever you want." He was already pussy whipped and nothing had even happened yet. He dove his face down and gave one lick from her hole up to her clit. She squealed and buried her fingers into the sheets, trying to find somewhere to put the energy that coursed through her. Matt's hands wrapped under her thighs to hold her steady. His tongue went to work with his nose brushing her clit with each movement. Ella was an absolute mess underneath him, moaning and crying out.

"oh my god!" she yelled, thankful that her roommates were gone. Matt was also thankful because the noises she was making were only turning him on more and more. He focused his tongue on her clit and inserted two fingers into her, pumping them slowly. The stretch burned so good as his fingers brushed the most sensitive spot inside of her. Her legs began to shake on Matt's shoulders. "I- I'm gonna-" she struggled to get words out.

Matt pulled away briefly using his thumb to replace where his tongue just was, "I know, baby, go ahead. Let me see how pretty you look when you cum." His mouth went back in between her legs. That comment was enough to send Ella over the edge. Her back arched and a string of profanities left her mouth with Matt's name in there a couple of times. He kept going, helping her ride out her high, only stopping when her legs fell limp next to him. Matt put his fingers in his mouth to clean them off as Ella tried to catch her breath. "Think you can keep going for me?" He asked. She nodded eagerly and pulled him back down into a kiss. Matt reached for his wallet on the bedside table and pulled out a condom, thankful that he packed one 'just in case.' He slipped his boxers off and ripped the wrapper open with his teeth. His breath caught in his throat as he applied the condom, finally having some sort of contact to his dick that has been hard for what felt like hours.

"Goddamn, Matt, I need you," Ella whispered in awe at his size. Matt made his way in between her legs and threw one over his shoulder. He slowly connected their bodies, trying to give her a chance to adjust. His head flew back as he let out a groan. Ella gasped as he entered her and she took a few deep breaths to relax the muscles in her body. "You're good, thank you for waiting," she said, giving him the go ahead he had been dying for. He began to thrust his hips into hers and interlocked one of their hands. She whimpered at the pleasure coursing through her and squeezed his hand.

"Holy shit, baby girl, you are killing me," Matt groaned looking down where their bodies connected. "You're doing so - fuck - so good." Ella began pulsing around his cock, approaching her second orgasm of the night. This was enough to get Matt to his peak. "Cum with me, princess." The room filled with Matt's groans and Ella's cries.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

-two weeks later-

When the lights go out, she's all I ever think about, the picture burning in my brain, kissing in the rain. I can't forget, my English love affair. Today, I'm seven thousand miles away. The movie playing in my head of a king size bed means I can't forget my English love affair.

Matt had officially become unbearable to be around. Always catching an attitude with one of his brothers, hiding out in his room, and having no energy in their content. Not only did Nick and Chris notice it right away, but the fans were noticing it too.

'Has anyone noticed Matt seems off lately?'

'Matt has been in a weird mood since they got back from tour'

Matt laid in his bed scrolling through Ella's instagram. She had even posted pictures with her friends from the night they met so he had memories to look back on of her in that dress. His door swung open and Nick and Chris made their way in. "Do you know how to fucking knock?" Matt snapped.

"Alright, dude, what the hell is up with you?" Nick asked, ignoring the fact that they were clearly not welcome in Matt's room and making himself comfy in the desk chair.

"You just barged in here without fucking knocking! Maybe I just want some goddamn privacy and quiet for five fucking seconds!" Matt's voice began to get louder as he sat upright.

"Kid, you know you have been in a shitty mood since we got home. Is this about that chick in London?" Chris pried. Matt knew he couldn't lie to the people he cared for most. Even if he did, they would see straight through it.

"There was something about her - fuck - she's literally on the other side of the world. She's probably living her normal life and I'm stuck here not able to get her out of my head," Matt sighed. Sure, the two texted throughout the day, but surely she wasn't as down bad as he was, right?

"Listen, we wanna be here for you, dude. Cope how you need to cope. But we gotta figure something out for the vlogs, the fans are noticing and so is Laura. If this girl is truly something special, we want to help you figure it out," Chris said, as he sat on the edge of the bed.

Matt nodded, "You're right, I need to get my shit together. I'm sorry."

The brothers shared a productive conversation about Matt and his feelings and the vlogs before Chris and Nick left Matt back alone with his thoughts. He laid on the bed with his hands behind his bed, remembering how perfect his lips fit with Ella's. A buzz came from his phone on the bedside table. His hand reached over and brought the screen to his face. His mood lightened instantly seeing a text from none other than 'Ell <3' The message he read made his breath catch in his throat.

Call me crazy, but I just booked a flight to LA. I need to see you

#Spotify #matt sturniolo #sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo imagine #sturniolo smut #sturniolo fanfic #songfic #matthew sturniolo #nicholas sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo edit #let’s trip tour #fanfic #smut

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ramayantika · 1 year ago

Text

The dance of the devi

Flowers for the goddess

in my alta-dyed hands,

I offer them at the lotus feet

of the Mother of the Universe.

***

Gentle blues of the skies move out

And Surya slowly rises from slumber

in its captivating regal glory,

its golden rays adorning

the Devi’s forehead.

***

I behold the golden complexioned goddess

set in stone with a benevolent smile.

My anklets lay at her feet

with turmeric and vermillion coating

some of those melodious bells.

***

A sweet summer breeze blows by.

A bell jingles and a lotus from her garland

falls to the brown earth at my dust laden feet.

A jingle of bangles and anklets,

A low hum of a mysterious yet beautiful tune,

And a voice sings,

A voice that I can recognize anywhere –

The Devi has risen!

***

Draped in silks and gold,

fragrant garlands around her limbs,

She steps outside to my courtyard,

A very humble stage for the one

who is the abode of this entire Universe.

The sun makes her ornaments gleam,

yet her moon-like face is the brightest.

My anklets are around her feet

But what truly do I own

in this illusionary world?

What I receive –

Beauty, intelligence, riches and power,

All comes from her.

***

And by the bright yellows of dawn

I see her dance in my courtyard.

Wherever her feet travel, little blooms arise

and where her hands softly touch,

Golden dust flies.

She twirls round and round

And I see the might cosmic Gods

Swirling around her magnificence.

Her veil, the illusionary veil,

which she playfully casts

around this world

escapes the clutches

of her beautiful braided hair.

And now I see. Clearly.

***

She leaps into the air,

Resembling a warrior

and a warrior she is,

for she is the Devi,

The ferocious Bhairavi,

The invincible Durga,

the slayer of Mahishasura.

She is the dark one, Kali,

The slayer of Raktabija.

***

Her dance of grace and elegance

transforms to a dance of death and destruction.

She is Shivatrinayani and Maheshwari.

She leaps and twirls with her trident

and her anklets and the temple bells ring

harmoniously,

Just like the eternal forces of nature.

Devi is Nitya, the eternal one.

***

I, a mere mortal woman, a devotee

akin to the turmeric and vermillion on her feet

watch the goddess dance in all her glory.

I see all the worlds and this vast universe

dance with her,

And maybe it is really true:

That everything in the world dances.

Laasya performs in every object,

in the largest to the very smallest.

***

And then I see the radiant one

stretch her palm to me.

I see my world in her hand

And clasp her hand tightly.

Which daughter lets go of her mother’s hand?

So we dance.

***

Stars and galaxies, planets and cosmic bodies,

Fire and snow, gods, demons and mortals,

I see her in everything

And this is the Dance of Realisation.

The music, the drums and the bells slowly fade

But the dancing soul now awakened

dances in ecstasy.

I see, I hear, I dance, I understand everything now.

***

The Devi twirls, spins, sings, smiles and laughs

And finally heads to her abode, to Shiva, her life.

My life, a thread in her hands,

I now submit to her eternal play

of this Life’s Dance.

***

I haven't written poetry in a while now. Somehow I couldn't capture this in a story format, it felt bland and very large and long. I didn't like it. The poem format perhaps gives me a little peace to form the vision I once had a few years ago while meditating on the goddess. I will obviously edit this later for the book, but for now here's the first draft poem for the book

Tagging: @swayamev @indiansapphic @jukti-torko-golpo (big thank you to you for the devi content!) @navaratna @rhysaka @krishna-priyatama @krsnaradhika @inexhaustible-sources-of-magic @alhad-si-simran @ramcharantitties @kaal-naagin

#samridhi writes #poetry #devi #goddess #devi durga #goddesses rishikas & women

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bardic-tales · 5 months ago

Text

The Leviathan method: Step 11: Describe Your Protagonist(s)

Bianca Moore is a striking figure with golden hair that frames her flawless complexion and brown eyes, complemented by an hourglass figure. Standing at 5 feet tall, her appearance is both graceful and formidable, with white, black, and gold wings accented by golden feathers that hint at her celestial origins. Despite her angelic beauty, her elongated canines and aura of mystery hint at her hybrid nature. She is shaped by trauma and conflict. Bianca carries the weight of her tumultuous past with silent strength and often conceals her vulnerability behind a mask of pragmatism and reserve.

Quick Reference List

Tech Knowledge: Basic Modern Tech, Writing Software

Economic Class: Upper Middle-Class Author, Self-Sufficient, CEO Wife

Skills: Magic Combat (time-space-ice), Healing, Reality Manipulation. Swordsmanship (Noctemaris - Solstice)

Hobbies: Reading, Sketching, Writing

Classifications: Celestial-Demonic Hybrid, Otherworldly, Cosmic Horror

Vital Stats: Petite Build, Ethereal Glow, Dual Heritage

Bianca Moore: Detailed Character Breakdown

Technology/Tech Knowledge Bianca has a rudimentary understanding of modern technology but is far from a tech-savvy individual. She knows how to operate everyday devices like smartphones and laptops, using them primarily to write her novels or research. Her skills extend to basic software like word processors and communication tools, but she struggles with more advanced or futuristic technology. Due to her displacement, she has no need for advanced machinery, relying instead on her abilities. However, she is intrigued by weaponry and gadgets, particularly those she encounters in the world of Final Fantasy VII. Tech Knowledge: Basic Modern Tech, Writing Software

Economic/Social Class (during her marriage to Mordecai) Bianca’s economic status reflects her partnership with Mordecai, whose successful business ventures as CEO of Darklight Publishing ensured a comfortable and stable life for both of them. As an accomplished romance novelist, Bianca also contributed to their financial security. Her career, while not as lucrative as Mordecai’s publishing business, allowed her creative freedom and an independent sense of purpose. Economic Class: Middle-Class Author, Self-Sufficient, CEO's wife

Magic Abilities or Skills Bianca possesses a vast array of abilities tied to her celestial and demonic lineage. Her most prominent powers include spatial manipulation, energy projection, and the ability to interact with the souls of the departed. She has time, space, ice, nightmare, healing and protective magic, . Her combat style relies on agility, evasion, and precision strikes with her celestial blade, Solstice, and demonic blade Noctemaris. While she has some knowledge of swordsmanship, she excels more in magical combat and strategic planning. Skills: Magic Combat (time-space-ice), Healing, Reality Manipulation

Culture and Hobbies Bianca is a passionate reader, finding solace in romance and survival novels that mirror aspects of her life. She also enjoys sketching, often drawing scenes from her past or the people she holds dear. She appreciates moments of quiet reflection, writing in her journal, or exploring natural landscapes. Her hobbies provide a reprieve from her turbulent existence, grounding her in a sense of normalcy. Hobbies: Reading, Sketching, Writing

Classifications Bianca’s unique lineage as a celestial-demonic hybrid grants a distinctive appearance. Her golden hair, radiant complexion, and glowing eyes mark her as a being of divine origin, She has angel wings (black, white, and gold feathers). Classifications: Celestial-Demonic Hybrid, Otherworldly, Cosmic Horror

Vital Statistics Height: 5 feet (152 cm) Weight: 105 lbs (47.6 kg); 128.6 lbs (58.3 kg) including wings Age: 23 Health: Moderately stable, though influenced by her traumatic past Appearance: Bianca has waist-length wavy gold hair, piercing brown eyes that glows gold when she uses her powers, and an hourglass figure. Vital Stats: Petite Build, Ethereal Glow, Dual Heritage

tagging some fellow mutuals: @themaradwrites @whatwedointhecraft @megandaisy9 @watermeezer

@prehistoric-creatures @creativechaosqueen @chickensarentcheap @seastarblue

@inkandimpressions

#my ocs #ff vii oc #character sheet: fwc #character sheet: fwc: ff #fwc: ff #characters: fwc #characters: fwc: ff #character sheet: bianca moore #bardic tales #bardic-tales #wip: blood and stardust #lm: step 11: describe protagonist #passion project: fantasy worlds collide #oc: bianca moore

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jaelaxies · 2 years ago

Text

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐌𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐬

About Love & Romance

fluff; wc:1 k.

ot5 x fem reader!; kiss kiss fall in love; tw: none .

Txt as my favorite love songs but make it romance

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･

✩ Paris in the Rain — lauv (Soobin) established relationship

Walking hand in hand with Soobin in an umbrella that is too little for him but it doesn’t matter that much to him, since you’re safe from the rain; not a single droplet letting his favorite expression on you, that childlike smile and crinkly eyes, fade away. The only thing that matters right now is how full his chest feels at the sight of you reaching for his hand to pull him closer, even if it meant that a part of your hair got wet in the process. “Sharing is caring” you said as you took the handle from the umbrella, Soobin’s hand covering yours softly, while you kept talking about hot chocolate and your upcoming trip to Paris. But for him, everywhere with you felt right. You always made him feel protected and loved, no fancy restaurants could compare to your cooking and there was no brighter thing for him than your dazzling grin. Walking under the rain with your hand in his, was the same as being in Paris under the dainty rain.

✩ Golden Hour —jvke (Yeonjun) lovedrunk hours

This was Yeonjun’s favorite time of the day. Staring at you as the golden hour approached and the sun rays hovered over your features, trying their best to sculpt them in soft hues of gold specks of light. Your hair sprawled all over your back while your head rested on his chest; the light catching onto your body like fairy dust; he caressed your shoulder with circular motions where the sun particularly found a favorite spot. He thanked whoever was the superior power who brought you into his life: a radiant beam of light, an angel with a glorious look in her eyes. When you woke up from your daze, you felt the soft kiss of Yeonjun’s plush lips on your forehead; lingering for a bit until he moved to peck your nose, noticing you were awake. “The sun is jealous it can’t kiss you like I can” he said while you did your best to open your eyes with a half lidded still sleepy smile, a little low chuckle emerging from your throat as you embraced him again; covering his waist with your arms as you snuggled like a koala into his welcoming and familiar warmth. If the sun was jealous that it couldn’t kiss you like that, “I bet it’s also jealous I’ll always have part of him protecting me”

rest of the boys under the cut!

✩ Begin Again —taylor swift (Beomgyu) first date instant love

You were not ready for this and you knew that. But you still decided to put feet into that café that Wednesday: all dolled up, matching red lips with your red cardigan and white dress; you were so nervous you could hear your heartbeat in your ears, like a drumming session. He was already there, sitting and looking at the window. Long brown locks, tall complexion and a beautiful profile; would he think you were boring too? That you were old fashioned and too bland? … Suddenly all of those thoughts washed away when he stood up and met your curious gaze… he was smiling and he had a slight blush on his cheeks. He took your chair and pulled it, just so you could sit comfortably and then he took a seat too. “I bet you noticed how nervous I am right now” he said while laughing a bit at his own antics, the way he fiddled with the pages of the menu or made any small talk and had a joke to compliment the silence. “But I’m Choi Beomgyu and I’m so happy to finally meet you” The last eight months, I thought love could be like an explossion and break everything into tiny little pieces as the flame consumed them; but on this Wednesday as the rain started to pour on a corner caffe, and suddenly the turmoil felt calmer like flowing water on the nearest pond; I watched it begin again.

✩ Something Just Like This — coldplay ( Taehyun) confession

You thought you knew Taehyun like your favorite book of all time, but for the first time in years, you were caught by surprise at the sight of him at your doorstep: bruised face and stained lip and clenched fists as he spoke defeated “I couldn’t stand the thought of him badmouthing you” His tone was hoarse but still so serious, something inside your chest contracted. You didn’t like this sight at all. “And I punched him, screamed at him… I disappointed you” You finally saw the fresh tears running down the trail of his face. “How am I going to protect you if I’m this weak” That was it, you shook your head and hugged him tightly, his own arms were hesitant until he wrapped you into a fully bear type like hug. His muscles relaxing at the feeling of you caressing his back. “First of all, you didn’t disappoint me…” you cupped his face softly and caressed his cheekbone with a little smile. That was actually going to hurt in the morning, but there was something more important to be said “You could never… Because I have always liked you: strong or not, just like this, Kang Taehyun”

✩ Candy — red velvet (Kai) grumpy and sunshine

“No one’s ever going to like you anyway” I’ve heard those words since teenage years came around the corner and boys who didn’t take no for an answer wanted some type of revenge. And then, there was always that one response that made everyone shut away immediately. “But I like her” Hueningkai was the weirdest case to her; he never confessed yet he was always by her side. They shared classes, lunch and even some secrets with each other. In her eyes, if he was candy, he would be some type of sweet jelly while she would be the sour type, the green that no one likes and leaves behind. But he was still the same, even now in college. Now she was starting to think that life without Kai was actually pretty boring and repetitive, but when he was around, even in the times where they would knock heads… she feared the thought of him leaving. So that morning, instead of him running to her, she waited patiently in front of their classroom and when his familiar laugh resonated trough the hall, blood rushed into her cheeks. Oh, it was so late, but never too late to finally tell. “Kai… I… I like you too!”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･

Well this is my first time ever writing in this format, i'm just trying to see if you guys like it! Also i'm thinking of maybe opening requests in the future?

I really liked how this one turned out: it's particularly special bc i love music and most of the times it's my main source of inspiration to wite; anyways, thanks for all the love🤍❕🥺

As always, feedback is really appreciated and I’ll love if you could reblog or comment if your really liked this one!

With love, *°࿐Stella🤍

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･

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dandelion-wings · 2 months ago

Note

Now imagining that offscreen canon scene of Nilou coming over to the Homayani estate to help Dunyarzad try on dresses — with Nilou (1) having a crush on Dunyarzad she was considering acting on only to discover that (2) Dunyarzad can't stop talking about her bodyguard in the most obliviously obvious way. It's very sweet and who can blame her?

I also imagined it, and it was a fun bit of angst! But then, being me, I couldn't leave it on a sad love triangle when Dunyarzad has two hands, so I tried to fix it:

---

ETA: Now on AO3!

---

Nilou's pulse flutters with anticipation as she knocks on the door of the Homayani estate. Anticipation and some nerves; she'd made sure to arrive by the servant's entrance, not the front door, despite having Dunyarzad's invitation in her hand. Dunyarzad might be confident in it, but she's told Nilou before of her overprotective parents.

Perhaps the front door would have been better. The maid who answers this one is baffled by the letter, and Nilou hears her whispering to whoever it is she summons that a legitimate guest would come by the front door, wouldn't she? But whoever she's talking to affirms that the handwriting is Dunyarzad's, and Nilou is let in and conducted to their lady's rooms.

"You're here!" Dunyarzad exclaims, catching Nilou's hands and dragging her in.

She dismisses the servants with a wave of her hand, then closes the door and tugs Nilou over to sit beside her on the bed. Nilou's pulse flutters again, though there's a good foot between where Dunyarzad is and the spot she pats for Nilou to sit. She's afraid she may be blushing.

Dunyarzad, though, doesn't seem to notice. She's too excited about the festival. "I found out about something else we can do. Dehya was out on her day off and found an illegal bookseller. She brought me back an old novel set during a Sabzeruz Festival, which was so sweet of her. I haven't even told her about my plan yet. She got it all on her own, and told me that it mentioned Lesser Lord Kusanali, so she thought of me when she found it."

"That was nice of her," Nilou agrees. "What did you find out?"

"My favorite detail was that in the novel, they gave out special candies shaped like flowers. I thought that would be wonderful for the children."

"That would," Nilou agrees, charmed by the thought herself. "Did it say how to make them?"

"No. I was hoping you could find a confectioner who might have an idea. Or could make a new recipe, if that one was lost." Dunyarzad smiles brightly at her. "It might cost some more money, but I've figured out how to get us more funds. How much did you say you needed for the first round of orders, to start with? You can get estimates for the confectioners later."

"About five hundred thousand Mora," Nilou says, wincing as she says it. "But we can start with the venues, and that will only be two hundred thousand."

Dunyarzad only smiles even more brightly, radiant in her excitement, and leaps back to her feet. "I think I can cover that entirely, to start with. Though you'll have to help me. I know what my parents paid for most of these, but there's a difference between the commission price and what they might be worth for resale. I don't know if they'll be more valuable as a whole, or broken down for the gems and fabric."

Now and then Nilou is reminded that while Dunyarzad may be unfamiliar with the scrape-and-save economics of the Grand Bazaar, she is the daughter of a wealthy man who's known for handling his money well. She goes over to her dresser as she speaks, pulls a drawer open, and pulls out a few bundles of fabric. The first one she shakes out is a long skirt, a shade of red that doesn't suit her current pale complexion, though Nilou thinks it might have when she was healthier. It's embroidered with gold thread and amber beads.

"Mother wants me to keep these for when I'm well enough to attend events with Father again, but...." Dunyarzad's smile only dims a little. "She'll never know if a few have been sold. Dehya gave me the idea, actually. We were talking about her ornaments- you've seen them, right?"

"I've never seen them up close, but I've seen her in the Grand Bazaar before. They're very striking."

"Yes, the desert style is so beautiful. Especially on her." She smiles wistfully, her gaze going distant. Nilou's stomach starts to sink. She knows that look--she suspects she had worn that look this morning as she rushed through her chores at the Theater, given the teasing comments she had gotten. "She told me that they're mostly advertising. Everyone who knows mercenaries can see them and know they're looking at the Flame-Mane. But she also said that if she needs them to be, they're quick cash. In an emergency, if she doesn't have time to earn money, it's all nice enough to sell."

"Oh, there's people in the troupe do that. Though usually they try to just pawn them temporarily," Nilou adds. "Can I see all of them?"

"Here, let me lay them out."

"I'll help you."

Leaping up, Nilou hurries to take the skirts Dunyarzad hands her to lay out on the floor. Their hands brush as they touch, and her breath catches--thinks Dunyarzad's might, too. Some tentative hope still flutters within her as she kneels down to help lay out the selection of skirts.

"Oh," Dunyarzad exclaims, picking one back up. "Not this one, I'm sorry. Unless it's better than any of the others. The Festival does come first, but Deyha said this one looks the best on me, so if it's not especially valuable...."

It's not. Dehya is right, the silvery-blue and dusty purple colors match Dunyarzad's current complexion better than any of the bright colors otherwise on display. Besides that, though, it doesn't have the gold or silver thread of some of the others, it's beaded with pale quartz instead of anything more expensive, and the way it's pieced together would make it difficult to pick it apart in such a way that the fabric's quality would be preserved. Which means that Dehya likes it for how it looks on Dunyarzad, not because she has some sort of eye for value.

"No, that one isn't. These here, the one with the star sapphires and noctilucous jade, would be the easiest to break down without damaging anything, and the pieces would sell very well."

"Good. I've been trying to wear this more often. Dehya said there's no reason I can't wear nice things just to wear them, and she always smiles when she sees me in this one. She has a beautiful smile," she adds, earnestly, that wistful tone again. "People don't often smile around me these days... so when I see hers, it's always like seeing a brilliant sunset. Something worth treasuring, even if no one else notices how precious it is."

Nilou swallows hard, feeling that quavering hope sink down and die. She makes herself smile just as she had before, hoping Dunyarzad won't notice the difference. Even if Dunyarzad doesn't find her smile precious in the same way, she had sounded so sad when she said people don't smile around her. Nilou will never be one of those people who are mourning her early, instead of celebrating her presence.

"I understand," she says, refusing to feel sorry for herself. "If I take this one, I can afford at least the venue expenses, and we'll have a hundred to two hundred thousand Mora left over for other costs, depending on what I can sell the pieces for."

Dunyarzad's expression goes that bright and beaming again. "I'm so glad I could help!"

"We'll make the Sabzerzu Festival an event for everyone to remember," Nilou assures her, bundling up the skirt and scrambling to her feet. She could manage it on stage, but face-to-face with disappointment she can't make herself look this cheerful for long. "I should go start on taking these apart...."

"I don't want to delay you," Dunyarzad says, though she's clearly reluctant to let Nilou leave. "If you can't find the money elsewhere, come back and we'll pick out another you can use. The maids and Mother will notice if they all vanish, but they probably wouldn't notice one or two more."

"I will," Nilou assures her. Dunyarzad is so clearly lonely; Nilou doesn't mind coming back to give her some company another time. She just needs some time to mourn her crushed hopes first.

On the way out, she catches a glimpse of red and gold passing through the same courtyard she is, the Flame-Mane herself, an exuberant grin on her face as she heads for the hall to Dunyarzad's room. Nilou isn't sure if she knows about the skirt-selling plan, so she tucks the bundle closer and turns away. The jealousy she feels isn't fair. That Dunyarzad has someone in her life to smile for her, day in and day out, is what matters.

***

That Dunyarzad is *alive* is what matters, after that. It's not Nilou's fault--everyone rushes to tell her that it's not her fault, which honestly is worse than if they hadn't said anything reassuring at all, but she does know who to blame and it is the Grand Sage--but there is pain in knowing that it had been Nilou who anchored the samsara that nearly killed her.

Dunyarzad wouldn't want her to fret and fuss, though, when there's work to be done to help Lesser Lord Kusanali. Enough people are doing that. And knowing that Dehya is with her while Nilou joins in with that work makes it easier. Nilou's jealousy fades into determination, to do what Dunyarzad would wish her to, and relief, that she can do so without leaving her alone with only her parents' grief.

Whatever Lord Kusanali does to put an end to the scourge of eleazar, Nilou could hug her for it. Does, the first chance she gets, and takes her terribly by surprise--but she thinks their archon, after all her years of confinement, needed the hug.

"Thank you," she says, small and sweet, when Nilou lets go, and puts a hand on her arm. She looks deep into Nilou's eyes, her own eyes at once as bright and innocent as a newly-opened flower and as wise and deep as the forest itself. "Go to your friend! She wants to see you, too."

Nilou goes. And when she sees Dunyarzad with her arm around Dehya's waist, she can only smile, no matter how it stings, because Dunyarzad is alive to hold her and there's no place for sorrow in that joy.

***

Nilou's pulse flutters with anticipation as she knocks on the door of the Homayani estate. Anticipation, but no nerves; she's at the front door this time, confident of her welcome. The Homayanis have become open patrons of the Zubayr Theater. Dunyarzad's invitation in her hand only confirms her right to be here.

The last time she had been here had been the celebratory dinner arranged after Dunyarzad's recovery was confirmed. They had met in the Grand Bazaar a month later for the farewell dinner before Dunyarzad and Dehya left on their desert trip; Dunyarzad had insisted that she wanted to see a performance at the Theater one more time. Nilou does her best at every performance, but she'd put her all into that one, and Dunyarzad had been radiant and entranced.

She's not trying to compete with Dehya. That would be unkind to both Dunyarzad, whom she would never hurt, and Dehya, who since their first meeting has become something of a friend. But she still likes to see Dunyarzad smile so bright.

Which she does now, rising from her chair and holding her hands out to Nilou as she enters Dunyarzad's rooms. No more the enclosing curtains of a stifling sickroom; they've been pulled back, the windows flung wide, the terrace outside alive with pots of flowers.

"You're here! Come out to the terrace," she insists, dragging Nilou along. "I have so much to show you."

Dehya is waiting outside, of course, lounging on a bench beside the terrace's outdoor table. She grins and waves at Nilou, too. "Hey! Good to see you."

"How was your trip?"

"It was wonderful. We met a friend of Dehya's, Candace, in Aaru Village, and she showed us around. I never knew the desert could be so beautiful. Then Dehya took me the mausoleum of King Deshret, and to view Mount Damavand. There's supposed to be ruins at its foot, but we didn't go there this trip."

"Some of the Eremite tribes are responding better to the Akademiya's new outreach programs than others," Dehya says. "The ones around there aren't real friendly right now, and I wasn't going to take my lady into danger. We'll see how that looks in a few years."

Nilou smiles at them both, warmed by the happiness in Dunyarzad's voice. She looks happy--and healthy, her color so much better, her thin frame starting to fill out. The desert has been good for her. Getting to *go* to the desert, to escape the confines through which she lived her life, has been good for her.

"It sounds wonderful," she tells them.

"You should come the next time we visit," Dunyarzad says. "I'm sure you'd like it."

"Maybe in a few years the troupe can tour there. I'm busy with scheduled performances right now, but if we all went together, it could be a cultural exchange. I've heard a lot about the desert dances."

"They'd love you in Aaru Village."

"We can make plans later," Dunyarzad says. "For now, come see what I brought back."

She leads Nilou over to the table, where a lovely array of jewelry and ornaments have been spread out. Nilou gasps in delight. "These are gorgeous. Oh, look at this comb... and this hair clip... and oh, those ribbons.... You're going to be the talk of Sumeru City in these."

Dunyarzad smiles. "They're for you."

"Which ones?"

"All of them," Dehya says. "We had to rent a whole third sumpter beast on the way back from Caravan Ribat for everything she picked up there, and at least half of that was for you."

"That's not true," Dunyarzad says, laughing. "I bought small things! Your cosmetics took up just as much space, and most of it was the silk we brought home for Mother and the rugs for Father."

Dehya waves a hand in cheerful defeat.

"Dunyarzad, I can't take all of this," Nilou protests, her face hot. "It's very sweet of you, but this is...."

Putting aside the emotional weight of such a gift, this is worth more than the Theater makes in a *month*. If Nilou started wearing all of this, people would start looking around for her patron, and she doesn't think Dunyarzad would even think to keep quiet about that. The Homayanis are very kind people who don't need that scandal, and Nilou doesn't need more people than already do to think that her--attention--can be bought.

"You don't have to wear it all at once." Dehya gives her a sympathetic grin. "Pick a new piece every couple of weeks and rotate them out. My lady won't mind."

It occurs to her that a mercenary, someone else who sells her physical skills for her daily bread, might have run into the same sort of interest that dancers and actors often do. Especially a mercenary as attractive as Dehya inarguably is. And her strategy is a wise one.

"I don't want to completely change your aesthetic," Dunyarzad agrees, pink in the cheeks for all the wrong reasons and oblivious to Nilou's real concern.

Not that the aesthetic isn't a real concern, too, as she's established certain expectations to her audience, but--Nilou blushes harder, because that really should have been her first thought. She knows why the other had been instead. Her hopes she's long since peacefully put to bed, but the feelings that Dunyarzad's smile stir in her didn't go with them.

"If you're really sure...." She looks back at the gifts, still overwhelmed. "It's just so much."

"It cost less all together than that skirt I gave you."

"Yes, but that was for the Sabzeruz Festival, for Lord Kusanali-"

"Nilou." Dunyarzad takes her hands again, swinging her around to look directly at her. She looks so terribly, sweetly earnest. "When I was ill, and in despair, your dances always cheered me, and you were always so kind to me when we spoke after a performance. When I was locked away in this house, forbidden to leave, you sent me flowers, even though all the rest of the outside world was happy to pretend I didn't exist. When I wanted to do something for Lord Kusanali, to help celebrate the Sabzeruz Festival, you let me help- you believed I *could* help, even though I was sick and weak and useless. And every time I saw you, every time I got those flowers or read your letters, that time you came to visit... you always smiled so warmly, like a beautiful sunrise. Compared to the joy you brought me, these gifts are nothing at all."

The way Dunyarzad is looking at Nilou makes her knees want to turn to jelly. Her hands tremble in Dunyarzad's, and she can feel her blush blazing even brighter than before. If those words had come from anyone else, even if they'd come from Dunyarzad before she all but confessed her feelings about Dehya during that meeting before the Festival, Nilou would think-

"But you have Dehya," she blurts out, and wishes she could turn to water and dissolve into the terrace's stone.

"I do. And I don't mean to *ask* for anything," Dunyarzad says, her smile growing worried. "But when we went to Aaru Village.... Dehya has Candace, too, and once we'd talked about that, I thought I should at least let you know. It doesn't have to change our friendship, if you don't want it to. I will always value you as my friend before anything else. But," and there's that sweet, earnest look again, now anxious as well, "I have always thought you were beautiful."

Nilou glances frantically at Dehya, who's leaning forward and watching them with intense interest. She gives Nilou a thumbs-up.

"I don't know," Nilou says, overwhelmed. But already, hopes she'd thought crushed to silence are starting to stir again, fluttering within. She smiles shyly back at Dunyarzad. "We should talk about it, shouldn't we? But I *want* to talk about it."

Dunyarzad beams back at her, as excited as she'd been when giving her the gifts. "We should," she agrees, and then she's pulling Nilou in.

She could resist, if she wanted. Dunyarzad is stronger than she was before she left for the desert, but Nilou could easily twist away. And maybe they should talk first. But she doesn't want to. Her heart is racing with excitement, with hope reawoken into joy, and she leans in and kisses Dunyarzad as thoroughly as she possibly can.

#scenario edited according to the bit of canon you gave me XD #the same accidental-canon-divergence au as the linked one obviously #this took a long time because nilou's voice is oddly hard for me. still not sure i've got it down but i made a good-faith swing at it #the greater sumeru polycule #that's just what i'm calling it. that's the tag now #the lady and the lioness #don't have one for nilou and dunyarzad. hmm. something to think about #asked and answered #ascended fic

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uchu-no-bashira · 1 year ago

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Uchū no Bashira | Small Masterlist

Name: Kiana Aboiye

Age: 25 years old

Gender: Female

Appearance: Kiana is a young woman with a radiant copper-brown complexion, she possesses captivating doe-shaped eyes that were impossible in their color: a galaxy-purple with white flecks, resembling stars in a dazzling constellation. Her hair, cascading down to her mid-back, was a gorgeous blend of deep obsidian black at the roots and a lighter indigo shade at the tips, adorned with enchanting coils. Kiana has bow-shaped and pouty set of lips, irresistibly soft, complemented by a perfect set of wizard-white teeth that formed a dazzling smile. Her playful and warm eyes sparkled vibrantly, and she harbored a cute button nose

Height: 5'0

Build: Fit, Curvaceous. Toned muscle - not rippling.

Hair Color and Style: Deep obsidian black at the roots and a lighter indigo shade at the tips,

Eye Color: Galactic purple with white flecks, resembling stars in a dazzling constellation.

Distinctive Features: Eyes, hair, hoarse voice and rich brown skin.

Background: Born to her father Aadan and Her Mother Ayame, Kiana was the first of nine children. Due to her disposition in life, Kiana was disliked by her own mother - as opposed to her other siblings - and took to clinging to her father in her youth. He loved her deeply, leaving the young child no room to question it.

Place of Birth: Japan (Late Meiji-era)

Family: Kiana is the eldest of nine. She has seven brothers and one little sister. Their names are Ichiro (24), Sizwe(23), Hatsuharu (22), Omari (21), Hiroshi (21), Yasu(20), Tefari (19) and Ai (18).

Backstory: At a young age, Kiana followed dutifully in her fathers footsteps to be a swordsman. Aadan taught Kiana everything that she knew about fighting and the use of their odd - but shared - breathing style. He also taught her the importance of grace whilst hunting demons and to show compassion to those that she had killed. At the age of 15 Kiana took part in Final Selection with her brothers Ichiro and Sizwe, facing many trials and many tribulations. At the end of the long, nerve-pulling, seven days, Kiana was shocked that she made it out alive. After her father's death when she turned 18, Kiana had killed her 50th demon and earned the 'Universe Hashira' title. She also took to her siblings as if they were her own children and fulfilled her duties as a demon slayer as well. Through this, she was constantly ridiculed by her mother, who claimed that Kiana was the reason for her father's death; leading her to have low self-esteem in herself and abilities despite her title.

Personality:

Traits: Brave, Kind, Compassionate, Stern, Maternal, Fierce, Playful, Empathetic.

Strengths: Perseverance, Keen intellect, Quick reflexes, Strength, Speed, Combat Abilities, Adaptability.

Weaknesses: Breathing Technique.

Role: Demon Slayer

Rank: Hashira

Weapon:

Type: Dual Nichirin Akrafena

Appearance: The sword has three parts: a blade, usually made of some metal such as iron; in this case, Nichirin. The hilt is carved metal - solid gold in appearance; and the sheath, usually made of animal hide like leopard, leather and electric eel skin. Kiana's is made of leather. The blade of the weapon, after being presented to her, turned into a stardust pattern with a faint purple hue.

Breathing Style:

Name: Universe Breathing.

Techniques:

Galactic Vortex Strike (Offense) - "Uchū no Kokyū, Ichi no Kata: Ginga Uzu Kōgeki"

Kiana wields two Solar Flare Akrafenas with unparalleled precision. With each swing, she channels the swirling energy of galaxies into her strikes. The blades move in vortex-like patterns, creating a whirlwind of motion that slices through defenses with the force of cosmic rotation. This technique delivers powerful impacts, disrupting the demon's defenses and preventing regeneration upon contact.

2. Stellar Fusion Thrust (Offense): "Uchū no Kokyū, Ni no Kata: Kōsei Yūgō Totsugeki"

Drawing upon the brilliance of countless stars, Kiana focuses intense stellar energy into her dual blades. With swift, precise thrusts, she unleashes this concentrated energy in a synchronized assault. The blades move with the brilliance and intensity of stars colliding, delivering devastating thrusts that pierce through even the toughest defenses.

3. Nebula Veil (Defense): "Uchū no Kokyū, San no Kata: Seiun Bēru"

Enveloped in a nebula-like energy shroud, Kiana enhances her agility and reflexes while wielding dual blades. The swirling patterns of the nebula veil create illusions and afterimages that confuse and disorient her opponents. She uses this defensive advantage to evade attacks and maneuver strategically, setting up precise counterstrikes with her dual blades.

4. Singularity Blade (Defense): "Uchū no Kokyū, Yon no Kata: Tokuiten Ken"

The Universe Breather summons the power of a meteor storm, imbuing both blades with the intense destructive energy of falling stars. With a rapid series of strikes, the Breather unleashes a barrage of attacks that mimic the impact of meteors crashing down from the sky. Each pair of strikes releases a burst of explosive energy upon impact, creating a chain reaction of devastating blows that may overwhelm the demon's defenses. The onslaught is relentless, with the dual blades striking in perfect harmony, leaving the demon little time to recover or regenerate, ultimately reducing them to nothing but dust.

5. Black Hole Rend (Both): "Uchū no Kokyū, Go no Kata: Burakku Hōru Rekku"

Kiana channels the relentless pull and crushing force of a black hole into her dual-wielding style. With each movement, she creates a zone around her that draws enemies in, mirroring the inescapable gravitational pull of a black hole.

As she maneuvers within this zone, her strikes are swift and precise, exploiting the disorientation of her opponents. The dual blades move in synchronized arcs, creating an overwhelming force that compacts and tears through defenses. Her movements are fluid and calculated, ensuring that she remains just out of reach of counterattacks while relentlessly pressing her own.

Enemies caught in the Event Horizon find it difficult to evade or counterattack, as the relentless pressure of Kiana's strikes prevents them from regaining their footing. This technique combines offense and defense seamlessly, making it nearly impossible for her opponents to recover or escape the crushing force of her dual blades.

6: Celestial Ascendance (Hidden form) - "Uchū no Kokyū, Hi no Kata: Tentai Shōka"

When Kiana's Demon Slayer Mark activates, she taps into an ethereal power that grants her the grace and might of a goddess of the universe for five minutes. Her presence radiates an otherworldly aura, and her movements become imbued with celestial energy.

During this brief window, Kiana's dual blades are enveloped in a shimmering, star-like glow. She moves with transcendent speed and precision, her strikes resonating with the power of the cosmos. Each swing of her Akrafena leaves trails of ethereal light, and her attacks become almost impossible to predict or evade.

In this heightened state, Kiana executes a devastating combination of offense and defense. Her attacks are so swift and powerful that they cut through demons with ease, leaving behind wounds that shimmer with celestial energy, preventing regeneration. Her defensive maneuvers are equally enhanced, allowing her to deflect and parry with supernatural grace.

The climax of the Celestial Ascendance Technique is a final, powerful slash that channels the full extent of her temporary divine power. This strike releases a radiant burst of energy that resembles a miniature supernova, obliterating any demon caught in its path while leaving the surrounding environment untouched.

Relationships: How Kiana feels about the other Hashira:

"I was afraid she’d kill me in my sleep and after telling her that, we laughed about it and I found out that she’s actually very kind and intellectual." - Insect Hashira

"He is definitely a God of some sort. How could you look good, be tall and considerate? There’s no way. He’s very skilled, I envy his stealth. It staggers me when I remember that he’s two years younger than me." - Sound Hashira

"She's a slice of Castella cake. She’s a wonderful eating partner!! I adore our chats." - Love Hashira

"He’s terrifying, but very thoughtful despite how he speaks. He’s hurting in a way I can’t understand, but I admire his dedication." - Wind Hashira

"Very quiet. I haven’t sat and talked with him, but I feel he prefers isolation" - Water Hashira

"He fired me up. It pained me to know that he had died in battle. I mourned tremendously." - Flame Hashira

"He is a skilled young boy, very mature and does what needs to be done." - Mist Hashira

"He's a serious one. His katana is amazing. I’ve never seen one like it before" - Serpent Hashira

“He is incredibly tall. He’s strong beyond belief. Very cute. I enjoy spending time with him.” - Stone Hashira

Trivia:

The surface of Kiana's skin is well above 104 degrees due to her Breathing style. She has never had a fever or been sick in her entire 25 years of life.

When she was sixteen, Kiana's father - Aadan - once looked at Gyomei Himejima as a suitor for his daughter. Kiana refused the offer from her father multiple times because she had no idea who the man was and she had other responsibilities to worry about.

Kiana's eyes look like the center of a universe swirl and each star is linked to an ancestor and their abilities. She needs to keep a high spiritual balance in order to keep her abilities in tact.

Kiana speaks multiple languages: Japanese, Yoruba, ASL/JSL and English.

(Art done by @kingdimitrx)

#kny oc #OC!Kiana #black!oc #aave #kny #kny rp blog #oc rp blog #oc art

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talonabraxas · 11 months ago

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Pha Yant: of lord surya (the sun) “a ruby flashing in the sky” Credit: JintheNinja (金齊天大聖)

Surya Mantra

÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷

"Japakusumsankasham Kashypeyam Mahadhyutim

Tamorim Sarvapaapagnam Prantosmi Divakaram"

Meaning : I bow down to the Sun God who is the cause of the day break, who dispels all darkness, who destroys all sins , who is matchless in brilliance, who is the son of Kashyapa and who is as red as a Japa Kusuma flower.

Surya Gayatri Mantra OM Bhaskaraya Vidmahe Mahadyutikaraya Dhimahi Tanno Adityah Pracodayat'

According to Hindu Mythology, Sun is a Kshatriya and born to Sage Kashyap and Aditi who is the mother of Gods. Her sons were defeated by the demons. Aditi prayed to the sun to be born as her son to fight and defeat the demons so that the Gods could get back their due. Sun agreed to it and was born as Aditya. Hindus believe that Sun is ever moving in a chariot drawn by seven horses. Surya, the Sun, is short in stature and has a prominent, shining appearance, with two arms, a curly mane of hair and shining, golden-brown eyes that are the exact color of honey. His mind is incisive and His complexion coppery or golden and He wears clothes of dark saffron. In both His hands, Surya has two red lotuses. The wheel of Surya's chariot represents the year and its twelve spokes are the twelve months.

God Surya (सूर्य) can be called the only god in Hindu religion who can be seen and prayed to in daily life. The Surya is depicted as having a body as shiny and radiant as pure gold. He is believed to be a golden red man with three eyes and four arms, riding a chariot driven by seven white horses. The Chariot harnessed by seven horses represent the seven colours of the rainbow or the seven chakras.

Surya is the life giver, sustaining all life on earth by providing all radiance and energy. He by mounting the wheel of time is also the one who is responsible for the beautiful seasons and causing the cycle of day and night.

The Surya is referred to in Sanskrit as "Mitra" or "Friend" down to the invariable warmth. Surya is depicted with two hands holding a lotus in both; sometimes he has four hands holding a lotus, chakra, a conch and a mace.

Surya in ancient literature

In Vedas, numerous hymns are dedicated to Surya, the Sun personified, and Savitr, "the impeller", a solar deity either identified with or associated with Surya. Even the Gayatri mantra, which is regarded as one of the most sacred of the Hindu hymns is dedicated to the Sun. The Adityas are a group of solar deities, from the Brahmana period numbering twelve. The ritual of sandhyavandanam, performed by some Hindus, is an elaborate set of hand gestures and body movements, designed to greet and revere the Sun.

The mantra in Rig Veda praise to the Surya as :

आ कृष्णेन् रजसा वर्तमानो निवेशयन्न अमृतं मर्त्यं च । हिरण्ययेन सविता रथेना देवो याति भुवनानि पश्यन ॥ (1/35)

(Throughout the dusky firmament advancing, laying to rest the immortal and the mortal, Borne in his golden chariot he cometh, Savitar, God who looks on every creature]

Gaytri Mantra in Vedas for Lord Surya

ॐ भूर्भुवः॒ स्वः॒ तत्स॑वितुर्वरे॑ण्यम् भ॒र्गो॑ दे॒वस्य॑ धीमहि। धियो॒ यो नः॑ प्रचो॒दया॑त्॥

(Om bhoor-bhuvaH svaH, tat-savitur-vareNNyam, bhargo devasya dheemahi, dhiyo yo naH prachodayaat.)

In the Vedas Surya Dev is referred to as the god of light who is responsible for all life on earth.

The Children of lord Surya are : Shani Deva (शनि), Yama, Yamuna, Tapti

Names of Surya

Ravi, Suraj, Aditya, Adit, Bhaskar, Pusha, Divakar, Bhanu

Vedic Mythology with stories

The Mahabharata describes one of its warrior heroes Karna as being the son of the righteous queen Kunti and the Sun. The Ramayana describes Lord Ram (श्री राम) as being descended from the Surya Vansh or the clan of kings as bright as the Sun. The Sun God is said to married to the beautiful goddess Ranaadeh, also known as Sanjnya. She is depicted in dual form, being both sunlight and shadow, personified. The charioteer of Surya is Arun, who is also personified as the redness that accompanies the sunlight in dawn and dusk.

Sun God in different cultures

The Solar deities associated with different aspects of the cultural universe of the society, but for the most part its raw image remains identical. In the 3rd millennium BC, the winged sun was an ancient symbol of Horus. The Neolithic concept of a solar barge, the sun as traversing the sky in a boat, is found in the later myths of ancient Egypt, with Ra and Horus. Egyptian myths imply that the sun is within the lioness,

Proto-Indo-European religion has a solar chariot, the sun as traversing the sky in a chariot. During the Roman Empire, a festival of the birth of the Unconquered Sun was celebrated when the duration of daylight first begins to increase after the winter solstice, — the "rebirth" of the sun.

In Germanic mythology this is Sol, in Vedic Surya, and in Greek Helios (occasionally referred to as Titan) or Apollo. Mesopotamian Shamash plays an important role during the Bronze Age, and "my Sun" is eventually used as an address to royalty. South American cultures have emphatic Sun worship. Svarog is the Slavic god sun and spirit of fire. In Aztec mythology, Tonatiuh was the sun god. The Aztec people considered him the leader of Tollan, heaven.

Surya in vedic Astrology

God Surya is the King of all the planets and is responsible for controlling all their movements. The Sun in Vedic astrology is called RAVI, or SURYA. In western tropical astrology, the Sun rules the Sign of Leo. He is exalted in the sign of Aries, and he is in his fall in the sign of Libra. In vedic astrology the Sun is known as the ATMAKARAKA, means .an "indicator of the soul." The Sun is the indicator of the father, our ego, honors, status, fame, the heart, the eyes, general vitality, respect and power.

He is particularly beneficial for the fire sign Ascendants of Aries, Leo, and Sagittarius. His nature, or temperament is PITTA, or fiery, and the gemstone associated with the Sun is the red ruby. The Sun's metal is Gold and his direction is east. His day is Sunday, and he comes into full maturity and brilliance at age 22.

The Vedas adore him as a witness (Sakshi) of all actions. He is the lord of Leo in the Zodiac. He stays one month in each Rasi and takes 365 days or 12 months to complete a round of 12 Rasis. Worship of Surya on Sunday is supposed to bring in manifold benefits to the worshippers. .

Surya and modern Astronomy

Our solar system consists of an average star we call the Sun, the planets Mercury, Venus, Earth, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, Neptune, and Pluto. It includes: the satellites of the planets; numerous comets, asteroids, and meteoroids; and the interplanetary medium. The planets, most of the satellites of the planets and the asteroids revolve around the Sun in the same direction, in nearly circular orbits.

Our solar system the part of whole solar system, together with the local stars visible on a clear night, orbits the center of our home galaxy, a spiral disk of 200 billion stars we call the Milky Way. Again Our galaxy, one of billions of galaxies known, is traveling through intergalactic space. The order of planets revolving around the Sun are: Mercury, Venus, Earth, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, Neptune, and Pluto.

On February 14, 1990, the cameras of Voyager 1 pointed back toward the Sun and took a series of pictures of the Sun and the planets, making the first ever "portrait" of our solar system as seen from the outside.

Prayers to please Lord Surya

Surya namaskāra

Lord Surya helps one gain his eyesight and SURYA NAMASKAR will strengthen one's bones, cure illness, however severe it may be, cleanses the devotee from his sins and bestows on him progeny, wealth, good-health and long life. He is the cause for rainfall benefiting the world.

The lord Surya is prayed in the simplest way by folding one's hands in a namaskar at the time of sunrise. A simple chant of Om Suryaye Namah pleases the lord Surya. A Hindu worship Lord Surya at the rising of the Sun, known as Surya namaskāra There are twelve physical postures (asanas), which correspond to the twelve signs of the zodiac. During the sun's apparent journey through the heavens it passes through each of zodiac, and is said to triumph over each sign as it enters its domain. Associated with each other of the twelve positions of Surya Namaskar is a specific mantra. The 12 mantras for surya namaskara:

ॐ मित्राय नमः (aum mitrāya namah) ॐ रवये नमः (aum ravayé namah ) ॐ सूर्याय नमः (aum sūryāya namah ) ॐ भानवे नमः (aum bhānavé namah ) ॐ खगय नमः (aum khagāya namah ) ॐ पुष्णे नमः (aum pushné namah) ॐ हिरण्यगर्भाय नमः (aum hiranyagarbhāya namah) ॐ मारिचाये नमः (aum mārichāyé namah) ॐ आदित्याय नमः (aum ādityāya namah) ॐ सावित्रे नमः (aum sāvitré namah) ॐ आर्काय नमः (aum ārkāya namah) ॐ भास्कराय नमः (aum bhāskarāya namah)

The Gayatri Mantra is also associated with Surya.

Another hymn associated with Surya is the Aditya Hridayam, recited by the great sage Agastya to Lord Ram (श्री राम) on the warfield before the fight with Ravana in Lanka. .

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santoschristos · 3 months ago

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Manjushri (Tib. Jam-pa), meaning the 'Youthful' is the principal Bodhisattva of Wisdom in Tibetan Buddhism and is also known as Manjugosha (Tib. Jam-yang), meaning the 'Gentle Voiced'. He appears here in his most popular form as Orange Arapacana Manjushri, whose name is derived from the five inner syllables of his mantra: OM A RA PA CA NA DHIH, with DHIH being the syllable from which he is visually generated.

Orange Manjushri is youthful, peaceful and beautiful like a twelve or sixteen-year-old prince, with a sweetly smiling face, two eyes, two arms, and a radiant saffron complexion that shines like refined gold. He sits in vajra-posture upon a white moon disc, multicolored lotus and an ornate golden throne that is supported on each of its four sides by a pair of white lions. He wears five garments of multicolored silks, the eight jeweled golden ornaments of a bodhisattva, and his long black hair is described as being piled up into five wisdom topknots above his five-jeweled crown.

Image: Manjushri Bodhisattva

Lama Thanka Painting School @lama_thanka

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justvanessah · 6 months ago

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Happy 2025! I hope it's a year of new beginnings and endless possibilities. Here’s to the start of a year filled with cherished moments and amazing adventures. A year of growth, resilience, success and unshakable happiness and most importantly love. The first of the year is the day to manifest everything you want this year to bring. It's also a day of self love and self care (especially after a night out), so to start the year right here's a little something from me, with all my love to help with that.

Love Vanessa

Gotta have some KNOW Beauty too 😉 The Glacial Bay Clay Mask is a purifying facial mask instantly draws out impurities, tightens pores, and restores your complexion to its radiant glow and the Arctic Gold Vitamin C Mask is an overnight mask that reduces dark spots, firms up skin, and creates a luminous glow.

And definitely Caliwater 😂 Best hangover cure, trust me. But also super hydration, skin benefits and a great source of nutrients! 🌵 You can also use it as a cocktail mixer. DM me for the recipes!

@zkrvtz @lilreinhvrt @mattrcbert, @sebastianseb, @margoteliise @andrewrussellxo, @itsnickgalitzine, @therestayzakhar @sophiebelindasx @theswedishbilly @famejauregui @anne-hathway @sellymarie, @glenpowcll. @naomisxott @hale-raiser

#I had to lol

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the-mortuary-witch · 6 months ago

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APOLLO

WHO IS HE?

Apollo is the god of the sun, prophecy, oracles, light, music, the arts, song, poetry, healing, medicine, plague, disease, protection of the youth, knowledge, and herds. He is the son of the god Zeus and the goddess Leto, and the twin brother of the goddess Artemis. Apollo is depicted as a handsome and radiant god who is skilled in many areas, including music, archery, and medicine. He was also known for his intelligence and foresight, and was often consulted for advice and prophecies. Apollo was often depicted holding a lyre, the instrument that he played and used to soothe the worries of mortals.

BASIC INFO:

Appearance: Apollo is usually depicted as a handsome young man with golden hair and a radiant complexion. He often wears a laurel wreath, which is a symbol of victory and excellence, on his head. He is also often depicted holding a bow, a lyre, or both, and wearing a flowing robe that is sometimes adorned with intricate patterns. Apollo is often portrayed as a youthful and attractive god, with a strong build and a confident, almost arrogant demeanor.

Personality: he is known for being a warm and affectionate deity who is fond of his devotees and enjoys their company. He is often depicted as being charismatic and charming, and is known for his quick wit and intelligence. He is also known for his appreciation of art and culture, and is often depicted engaged in music, poetry, and other artistic pursuits. With his devotees, Apollo is often portrayed as being generous and responsive to their prayers and supplications, and is often called upon for favors and blessings related to health, creativity, and success.

Symbols: lyre, laurel wreath, silver bow and arrows, tripod, the Sun, and Sunday

God of: the sun, prophecy, oracles, light, music, the arts, song, poetry, healing, medicine, plague, disease, protection of the youth, knowledge, and herds

Culture: Greek

Plants: sunflowers, laurel, larkspur, cypress, apple trees, palm trees, and hyacinthus

Crystals: sunstone, citrine, yellow sapphires, carnelian, heliodor, golden healer, peridot, anorthoclase, anglesite, swiss blue topaz, calcite, star sapphire, aurichalcite, cherry opal, white topaz, brewsterite, silver topaz, bristol diamond, ceylon sapphire, pecos diamond, blue amber, blue kunzite, bony amber, inderite, binghamite, Arkansas diamond, ajoite, baltic amber, trolleite, cacoxenite, mystic topaz, diamond, ulexite, corundum, milky quartz, boulder opal, goldstone, Ethiopian opal, black obsidian, and topaz

Animals: swan, hawk, raven, serpent, wolf, dolphin, griffin, and mouse

Incense: orange, lemon, clove, myrrh, frankincense, cypress, vanilla, and cinnamon

Practices: music magick, healing, art magick, protection, divination, and medicine magick

Colours: gold, yellow, orange, silver, blue, and white

Number: 7

Zodiacs: Leo, Gemini, and Capricorn

Tarot: The Sun, The Chariot, Strength, and Temperance

Planets: Sun and Mercury

Days: Sunday, Apollonos, Hyakinthia, Apellai, Thargelia, Boedromia, Noumenia, Pythian Games, Pyanopsia, Karneia, Litha, and Yule

Parents: Zeus and Leto

Siblings: Artemis (twin) and many paternal half-siblings

Partners: Cyrene, Rhetia, Daphne, Coronis, Hyacinth, Terpsichore, Rhoeo, Parthenope, Psamathe, Areia, Hecuba, and Melia

Children: Asclepius, Aristaeus, The Korybantes, Hymen, Anius, Cycnus, Linus of Thrace, Lycomedes, Melite, Miletus, Oaxes, Oncius, Orpheus, Troilus, Phemonoe, Philammon, Tenerus, Trophonius, and various others

MISC:

Sun: Apollo is associated with the sun because he was the god of the sun and the personification of the sun's light and warmth. The sun was seen as a powerful force that brought life and growth to the earth, and Apollo was believed to control the movements of the sun across the sky and regulate its heat and light. As the god of the sun, Apollo was also associated with purity, truth, and the passage of time, and his presence was often invoked in rituals and ceremonies related to the sun and the changing of the seasons.

Music: he was believed to be the inventor of the lyre and to have a deep understanding of music theory and composition. Apollo was often depicted playing the lyre, and his music was said to have the power to soothe the emotions and inspire the soul. Apollo was also the patron of musicians and singers, and was often called upon during musical competitions and festivals to judge contests and offer inspiration.

Poetry: his name is said to be derived from the Greek word "apo," which means "away" or "back," and the word "poiein," which means "to make" or "to create." As the patron of poetry and the arts, Apollo was said to have invented the art of writing and the alphabet, and he was often depicted holding a golden lyre, which he used to play music that inspired poets and bards.

Snakes: Apollo is associated with snakes because he was said to have control over snakes and could charm them with his music. One of the most famous myths involving Apollo and snakes is the story of the Python, a massive serpent that lived on Mount Parnassus and terrorized the people of the region. Apollo was said to have slain the Python and made the snake sacred to himself.

Bow and arrows: as the god of archery, Apollo was said to have unparalleled skill with the bow and could hit targets at great distances with accuracy and precision. Apollo's skill with the bow was legendary, and he is often depicted as using his bow to hunt, protect, and defend. The bow and arrow were also symbols of power and authority, and Apollo was often depicted holding them in statues and frescoes.

Laurel wreath: the laurel wreath is also associated with Apollo's role as the god of poetry and the patron of the arts, as the laurel plant was believed to have healing properties that could cure madness and inspire creativity. The Laurel wreath worn by Apollo is a symbol of his victory over the Python and his mastery of the arts.

Ravens: they are often associated with Apollo because they are believed to be his sacred birds. The raven is a bird that is closely associated with prophecy and foresight, and Apollo was often depicted accompanied by a group of ravens that are said to have provided him with information and wisdom. One of the most famous stories involving Apollo and ravens is the myth of the Oracle at Delphi, where the god Apollo would receive prophecies from the priestess, and the ravens were believed to be his messengers.

FACTS ABOUT APOLLO:

His oracles were often consulted for guidance in various matters. He was in general seen as the god who affords help and wards off evil.

Medicine and healing are associated with Apollo, whether through the god himself or mediated through his son Asclepius. Apollo delivered people from epidemics, yet he is also a god who could bring ill health and deadly plague with his arrows.

Apollo presides over all music, songs, dance, and poetry. He is the inventor of string-music and the frequent companion of the Muses, functioning as their chorus leader in celebrations.

He is an important pastoral deity, and he was the patron of herdsmen and shepherds. Protection of herds, flocks and crops from diseases, pests and predators were his primary rustic duties. On the other hand, Apollo also encouraged the founding of new towns and the establishment of civil constitutions, is associated with dominion over colonists, and was the giver of laws.

HOW TO INVOKE APOLLO:

If you can afford it, get a statue of Apollo. If you can't, print out a picture, get whatever picture frame you can afford, and put the picture in the frame.

Next, on a bright sunny day, find a place (preferably outside) where you will be surrounded by sunlight and undisturbed. Try to pick a time of day when the sun is directly above you. Bring some water with you. If you cast circles, cast a circle, and feel free to enhance this ritual in any way that makes sense to you. Hold your figure of Apollo up into the sunlight, and chant. What you chant should be relatively short and easy to say. It helps if it contains a rhyme or rhythm to it, but neither is required. It should be in your native language and should say something like, "Apollo, mighty Sun God, fill this vessel with your presence". (Come up with your own words.) Chant them over and over. When your arms get tired, you can lower them, just keep the image in the sunlight and keep your hands on the image.

While you are chanting, make eye contact with the image. You should eventually start to feel that the image is looking back at you. He is. Keep chanting the same words, but let them strengthen the sense of presence and awareness you feel in the image. Chant as long as you can. Make the god's presence in your image as strong as possible. It's okay to take a drink--your throat will need it--but when drinking keep the chant going mentally until you're done drinking.

When you're done, take the image home and put it on an altar. At least once a day, place some food and drink on the altar for the god. "As above, so below" means (in part) that all items on this earth have an equivalent in the energy/spirit world, and you are giving this food energy to Apollo to enjoy and strengthen his presence. Do not eat/drink the offerings, throw them away or leave them outside for wildlife. From time to time, also burn incense or do other things that strike you as probably pleasing to the god.

Once you have an altar set up with Apollo, pray to him daily. Make eye contact; part of Apollo's presence resides in your statue/picture. Be open and receptive to impressions, feelings and urges in reply. Always express gratitude whenever you are done interacting with Apollo.

When you feel you have established a strong bond with Apollo, pray mentally to him, and then pause, waiting for a reply. Keep your head quiet but don't impose quiet in your mind, let it be like clay ready for Apollo's touch. If you keep making progress you will eventually feel thoughts form in your head that you didn't put there. That's Apollo, talking back to you.

PRAYER FOR APOLLO:

Apollo, shining son of great Zeus and blessed Leto, twin to Artemis,

Bright-faced god, ever present, ever distant,

We greet you with reverence and awe.

Clear-eyes Apollo, far-seeing one, sharp-sighted archer, always true of aim, true of vision, true of perception,

Constant guide of poets and musicians, of those who seek beauty, of its creation,

You grant to us the tools of artistry—words drawn from the heart, laid with care, tales told with skill and vigour, prayer and song to honour the gods, melody and harmony,

All the joy and sorrow of our lives transformed.

Apollo, fire and form of inspiration, I honour you.

SIGNS THAT APOLLO IS CALLING YOU:

Feeling a strong connection to sunsets and sunrises.

A connection to music on a deeper level than you ever have before, and randomly hearing or writing songs that include his sacred symbols in some way, can also be a sign that he is close by.

Idly doodling or drawing his sacred signs and symbols, or suddenly feeling more creative, artistic, and confident than ever before, you can assume that Apollo might be trying to influence you at least a little bit.

Seeing his sacred animals in unusual places or in synchronistic ways can be a sign that Apollo is near or is trying to get your attention. His sacred animals include but are not limited to ravens, crows, hawks, swans, cicadas, mice, and snakes.

Sudden interest in divination, such as oracle, tarot, scrying, or charm casting can be a sign that Apollo is wanting to connect with you.

Wanting to suddenly learn poetry.

OFFERINGS:

Sun water.

Music (all kinds).

Foods and drinks: wine diluted with pure water, milk, herbal teas, honey and honey cakes, orange or lemon pastries, lamb or goat meat, fruits (mainly citrus fruit), cheeses, wheat, breads, chocolates with orange or lemon flavours, bay leaves, sunflower seeds, and almonds.

Olive oil.

Golden objects such as gold bowls, gold wine cups, flakes of gold, etc.

Bows and arrows, toys, or art.

Images or art of the sun.

All musical instruments, especially stringed instruments.

Wolf and/or dolphin imagery.

Any images of birds, especially crows and swans.

Yellow, gold, and white candles.

Incense such as frankincense or myrrh.

Laurel wreaths, tree branches or leaves.

Gems such as amber, sunstone, and yellow sapphires.

Aloe vera.

Bandaids.

Poetry you’ve written.

Music you’ve written.

Art you’ve drawn.

Flowers such as lily of the valley, anise, and sunflowers.

Photos you’ve taken.

Concert tickets.

Golden jewelry or jewelry of the sun or arrows.

LGBTQ+ flags.

Divination items (tarot cards, pendulums, etc).

Art, toys, or photos of swans, hawks, ravens, serpents, wolves, dolphins, griffins, and mice.

Sunscreen.

All bird feathers, especially swan and raven feathers.

DEVOTIONAL ACTS:

Support up-and-coming/indie artists and musicians.

Sing to Him.

Play musical instruments for Him.

Hold dance parties.

Try and wake up early and watch the sun rise.

Make a playlist for Him and listen to it daily.

Read poetry to Him

Take care of your mental health and remember to take your medicine, if you have any.

Try different types of divination.

Go for a walk and feel the warmth from the sun.

Let more sunlight into your home/room.

Learn a musical instrument or how to sing.

Sunbathe.

Learn simple medical care, like CPR.

Dance (all kinds).

Learn about His history, His mother’s history, and His sister’s history.

Try archery.

Learn about His lovers.

Attend pride.

Support LGBTQ+ rights.

Wear yellow or orange clothing.

Honour Leto and Artemis.

Pray to Him and speak to Him often, things to consider praying for are guidance, healing/good health, inspiration, a prophecy or truth.

Exercising.

Get vaccinated.

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coven-of-genesis · 3 months ago

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Beauty Routine for Romantic Girl Energy

Soft, flushed, ethereal — like you stepped out of a poem.

Romantic girl beauty is all about looking like you’re in love (with yourself, with life, with the moment). It’s dewy skin, gentle tones, and effortless glow — like your blush is from blushing and your lips are soft from sweet kisses.

Here’s your full step-by-step beauty routine to channel your most radiant, romantic self:

⸻

Step 1: Skin Prep = Soft Canvas

• Start with a gentle cleanse

• Use a hydrating toner or essence

• Layer a glow-boosting serum (like rosehip or vitamin C)

• Lock in moisture with a dewy-finish cream

• Don’t forget SPF — romantic girls protect their glow

Optional: Face mist with rosewater for extra softness.

⸻

Step 2: Dewy Complexion, Always

• Lightweight skin tint or BB cream

• Liquid or cream concealer just where needed

• Blend with fingers or a damp sponge for a skin-like finish

• Cream highlighter on the cheekbones, nose bridge, and cupid’s bow

Skip heavy powder unless you’re only tapping some on your T-zone.

⸻

Step 3: Blush Like You’re Blushing

• Use a cream blush in rose, peach, or soft mauve

• Dab on the apples of your cheeks + a little on your nose

• Go slightly overboard — flushed is the vibe

Bonus: Add a touch of shimmer blush on top for an angelic glow.

⸻

Step 4: Romantic Eyes

• Use pink, champagne, blue or soft brown eyeshadow

• Add shimmer in the inner corners for sparkle

• Fluffy, wispy lashes — curl and use a lengthening mascara

• Optional: brown pencil for a subtle liner wing

Keep it soft, wide-eyed, and dreamy.

⸻

Step 5: Lip Combo of the Gods

• Exfoliate + hydrate with a balm first

• Line your lips with a soft nude or pink pencil

• Add a creamy lipstick or tinted balm

• Finish with a clear or slightly tinted gloss

Romantic lips should look kissable, not overdone.

⸻

Step 6: Final Touches

• Dab a touch of highlight on collarbones or shoulders

• Light spritz of rose or vanilla perfume

• Hair: loose curls, soft bun with a ribbon, or braided details

• Accessory: pearl earrings, gold rings, dainty necklace

⸻

Bonus Energy Tip:

Say an affirmation while applying your gloss:

“I radiate softness, beauty, and love.”

#witchblr #witchcore #witchcraft #witchlife #white witch #beginner witch #witch tips #grimoire #spirituality #beauty witchcraft #beauty magic #beauty affirmations #devine feminine #feminine energy #affirmations #makeup #it girl #it girl blog #book of shadows

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imaginejamesandsirius · 1 year ago

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Can you do one where they are both obliviously pining for each other? Maybe James pranking Slytherin! Sirius because he thought he was a swot (but really, it’s for attention) and Sirius finding it amusing (but he really likes James’s attention on him or summat) which frustrates James to no end.

Sirius Black, catch of the school but a Slytherin, walks into the Great Hall. He's promptly sprayed by golden paint, catching half of his face, some of his hair, and a section of his robes near the shoulder and neckline. James almost went with a nice Gryffindor red, but he doesn't want anyone to think he's bleeding; this is a prank, not an attack. He went with gold because Sirius has grey eyes and silver is a Slytherin colour but gold is Gryffindor, and it'll be nice for him to finally look less than perfect; gold will be unflattering to his skin tone, James is confident.

Sirius freezes in surprise, but as quickly as the paint started to hit him, it stops. He glances at the shoulder now covered in gold, and in moving to look, some of his hair drifts into view-- also gold. He grins and runs a hand through his hair on the effected side, then glances at his fingers. "No bleed over," he notes. He reaches for his wand and casts a spell to clean it up, but of course James thought of that possibility and accounted for it. Sirius waves his wand and nothing changes. His smile, perplexingly, gets brighter as he notices that the paint hasn't lightened. His eyes go to the Gryffindor table and easily land on James, almost as if he already knew where he's sitting. He winks, still with that wide smile, and James's heart starts beating harder in annoyance.

He meant to bother Sirius with this, not make him smile like a loon. And he still looks good, even though all evidence had pointed to him looking bad with gold. Instead of looking washed out with his complexion, he looks radiant, like the gold warmed him instead of making him look sallow in comparison. It didn't clash with his eyes, it enhanced the feeling that he's deserving of precious metals-- the silver of his eyes a bright spot to enhance the gold colour splashed across his cheek.

Mission result: total failure.

As Sirius turns towards the Slytherin table, easily accepting his golden fate, James scowls down at his food. Gods, he's such an arse. Nobody should react this way when James targets them-- despite what he said to professors when caught-- and they certainly shouldn't react this way after years of such treatment. He started back in first year, trying to make the uptight Black heir have a breakdown that there was something he couldn't control and his parents couldn't fix for him; James knew the type on sight and was confident he would succeed with ease. But first year passed with a single negative reaction, and by the time second year came about, he started (for lack of a better word) enjoying the pranks, never caring if they were ultimately harmless like the paint, or mean spirited like he constantly did in third year. Even that time in fifth year, when he Vanished all of Sirius's clothes in the middle of the Great Hall, Sirius laughed, made some sort of joke to the professors about how he couldn't get in trouble for it because it wasn't his fault, then looked right at James as he turned to get new clothes and smirked.

He's infuriating, seemingly going out of his way to show James how much he doesn't care what he tries next. It's a battle of wills that James has been failing since day one, but he refuses to not win in the end. He just needs some new ideas to shake things up. Hell, at this point, he'll take surprising Sirius with what he's done, even if the other man eventually laughs at it.

"I don't suppose you're on the cusp of letting this go?" Peter asks, hoping for the best but with realistic expectations, considering he knows how James is.

In response, James glares at him.

Peter let's out a small sigh and murmurs, "Yeah, that's what I thought."

"I'll get him one of these days, you'll see," James says, more than a little tetchy.

"You've gotten him every time," Remus says in confusion. He's working on homework and only caught the last sentence.

"He wants for Black to not have such a good humour about it," Peter explains, then turns back to James. "Which is stupid." Remus tunes them out and goes back to his homework-- either because he doesn't care to try to give James advice that he never listens to, or because he actually needs to concentrate on his homework; it can go both ways with Moony. "Anyone else would talk to a professor, and you'd never be able to make Quidditch practice because you'd be holed up in detention every day of the year. He's built a resilience to you, and this is a good thing. It's keeping you out of trouble." Peter pauses and makes a face. "It's keeping you out of detention," he amends.

James continues to glare across the Great Hall at Sirius Black.

Obsessive seems too kind a word for this.

Over at the Slytherin table, Sirius is also dealing with his friends, he's just having a better time of it than James.

"I don't understand why you put up with any of this," Severus hisses. "You can easily bring this up with your parents and get him punished."

Sirius shrugs and takes a sip of pumpkin juice. "Why make a fuss? It's harmless."

"It's not always this harmless," Magaera points out.

He shrugs again. "It's funny."

"It's humiliating!" she insists.

"Strange that I don't feel very humiliated then, isn't it?"

"Are you... doing this to mess with Potter?" Severus asks.

"Partially."

"And the other parts?" Megaera asks. She's known him too long to let that 'partially' become 'all'.

"I find the attention flattering, and it's rather amusing. He's spent the entirety of our school years trying to find something that will make me mad. He still does well in his classes, but imagine what he could do if he took that drive and applied it elsewhere."

Severus's mouth curls. It's almost funny how much he hates James Potter. James hasn't been nice to him, to be sure, but everything that Sirius lets roll off of him, Severus takes personally. "He seems to do well enough in Quidditch with his attention diverted."

Megaera scoffs. "Why do you care about Quidditch so much? None of us play, and we only go to the matches so we have something fun to do." Megaera and Sirius have fun at the matches, at least. Their other friend seems to hate them but shows up to every single one anyways.

Severus scowls further, and Sirius laughs and responds for him. "He only cares because Potter does so well in it."

"Seriously?" Megaera asks, raising an eyebrow at Severus.

"No, it's..." he struggles to think of a good lie and lands on "...House loyalty."

Sirius and Megaera give identical hums of skepticism, and she turns from the question of Quidditch to go back to the prank that started this. "I know you said cleaning it magically didn't work, but do you think a shower will help?"

"Probably, but I don't have time before tonight."

"I have makeup. We can try it where it hit your skin?"

"I'm not bothered," Sirius laughs.

"That's because you're barmy," Severus mutters, under his breath but loud enough for them to hear.

That's where the thread of conversation ends and they begin talking about their first class: Potions.

Sirius's mind lingers on the topic of James, though. His friends won't stop speaking to him or something equally ludicrous if he tells them that he fancies James, but they will look at him like he's sprouted a second head. Easy acceptance is not a possibility-- not that he's going to let that stop him from making a move before the end of their Hogwarts years.

He's known for a while that he fancies James. It seems to him that James fancies him as well, otherwise how could he explain all these pranks? Most people think it's because Sirius gets under his skin, and he agrees with that except what the definition of 'gets under his skin' is. James seems incapable of not thinking about him, needing to poke and prod to make sure he always has Sirius's attention. He does. Sirius thought it was obvious, even if he tried to mask it from being clear to first years. He can't help but be enchanted by the everything that makes up James Potter.

"Does that even count as a prank?" Peter asks skeptically. He's squinting across the Hall, as if closing his eyes will help bring the scene into focus. Flowers rained down on Sirius. It doesn't feel like a prank, and he has no idea how it can possibly be justified as one. Maybe if he tilts his head a little it will suddenly make sense?

But James says, "Yes, of course it counts."

"Uh-huh, how's that?"

"Roses are his least favourite flower."

"How do you even know that?" Remus asks.

"He mentioned it once," he answers, waving him off.

"Okay, following that logic-- giving him a bunch of roses when he doesn't like them very much-- roses are your favourites," Peter points out. "How do you think that's going to come across?"

James looks at his friend, bewildered. "Why would it come across as anything but a prank? I swear, the closer to exams we get, the stranger you become."

Peter grumbles under his breath, and James stops paying attention to him since clearly he isn't going to be helpful.

Hmph. Sirius doesn't look annoyed or upset in the slightest. He looks happy, for Merlin's sake. James has no idea what he's doing wrong here, but making Sirius's day better is not how this was supposed to go.

James and Sirius see each other during class-- most of their courses are the same and have been from year three-- but what surprises James is the way Sirius is beaming. It's not a normal, good-humoured smile or smirk the way he normally does for the pranks to show James that he's not bothered. He seems genuinely happy. Clearly, whatever happened to him this morning before the flowers was enough to brighten his mood for the entire day, no matter what else happens. For Merlin's sake, they're sat in History of Magic right now; no one likes sitting through Binns and his horrid lecturing.

On top of his strangely happy mood, he keeps sending James his pleased smile, as if they are sharing this happiness. James has no idea what's going on, but he doesn't want to admit that to Sirius, so when he shoots James a smile, he raises an eyebrow like he's expecting something. Hopefully, it'll take care of itself and he won't be made the fool. Again.

The rest of the day passes quickly, with James alternating between paying attention to class and looking at Sirius-- not an entirely new rhythm for him, he admits, but he's more distracted than usual, unable to pay adequate attention to either when he tries.

Evening comes and there's still an hour before dinner. Unfortunately, James's lack of concentration during the day lingers, and he walks the corridors aimlessly with his bag still over his shoulder because he hasn't had a chance to drop it off in Gryffindor Tower yet.

He spots a few other students making their way through the halls as his feet carry him around, but no greetings are exchanged. They're heading to their destination and he... Merlin, he feels lost, despite knowing Hogwarts like the back of his hand. Maybe he's especially tired today, and hungry now on top of it.

Sirius surprises him by coming around the corridor, and his feet stop automatically instead of going around him. Sirius strides forward with a smile and a bouquet of roses-- he suspects they're the same roses that James poured over him this morning. "I know these won't last long," he says, confirming his suspicion, "but I figure it's only right to give a few back to you. Roses are your favourite, right?" Sirius phrases it like a question, but there's a knowing gleam in his eyes as he holds the bouquet out to James.

"Erm. Yeah." He accepts them slowly, unsure what's happening.

"You were much more forward than I was expecting," Sirius continues. "With how it's been going the past couple years, I thought we were going to graduate before you asked me out."

Ask- what? Surely he doesn't mean 'ask out' like a date-

"We've been dancing around each other for long enough, so you were right to be so obvious." He chuckles. "Maybe I needed a bit of a kick in the arse instead of expecting you to do everything." And Sirius kisses him. It's a light thing, barely brushing against his lips, but it is definite contact, their mouths touching with purpose.

So he did mean a date. That's... not actually ridiculous. James pulls him back in with one hand, the other holding the roses out of the way so they won't be crushed. He wants a real kiss, damn it. After all these years of not noticing a fancy when it's right in front of him, he deserves a proper kiss.

And Sirius is more than happy to give it to him.

#sirius black #james potter #fanfic #prongsfoot #bambibelle #filled #no voldemort au #hogwarts time #getting together #slytherin sirius #siriuslystarbucks

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