#exquisite picture frame

[discoboogie]

Enclosed - Dining Room

Ideas for a mid-sized, enclosed dining room remodel with a timeless dark wood floor, colorful walls, and no fireplace

[esthercore]

Sweetness Overload!! (HSR Men and Cute Stuff they do!)

Argenti has the most exquisite house (spaceship) garden, making you the prettiest flowers weekly, and jotting on a note, what each flowers symbolizes. He also often likes making you flower crowns or random flower art, and will tear up if you do the same.

Aventurine before you start dating liked making a whole show of constantly calling you wrong names every time making your frustrated with him, except when he tucks his coat around shoulders after he find you slumped in front of your computer during overtime, dead asleep, whispering a good night, and sweet affirmations, checking your breath and finally uttering an 'i love you' once he confirms you are asleep. I think after 173 total posts this is the first time i wrote aventurine not being depressed or traumatizing him more lol.

Blade makes sure everyone knows you are his. You two out in public? He will be all over you, arm around you shoulder or simply clutching you from behind, as you two walk, he likes holding you whenever. You are rarely seen out alone, in public, if ever. He likes being with you as much as he can. Good things barely exist in his life, so he's gonna hoard you all to himself.

Boothill remember everything you say or do, your likes and dislikes? Can list all in his sleep. Each and every order you place in your favorite restaurants? Saved in his cloud storage. Every single important date? Your birthday, your first kiss, the first time he met you, the first time you hold hands, your anniversary, everything.

Dan Heng is an amazing listener. Every trouble you got, just tell him all about it and let him kiss them away. He's an empath and will help you mentally deal with your struggles. After everything he has faced in and even before the shackling prison, the last thing want is for his lover to face anything remotely as same, so very protective too. Also, he loves your voice, love hearing you speaks, loves to fall asleep to it, and to wake to your pretty voice. His fav place to kiss you is your throat,

Dan Feng liked to doll up and gift shiny stuff to his little mate. Anytime he sees any pretty accessory or clothes, he will bring them home, almost a hoarding problem. Loved to see you in the stuff in brought you, or enjoy any of his gifts. The high elder's mate was very popular for the way they were dressed like a god/goddess head to toe with jewelers and the best garments in all the Xianzhou ships.

Dr Ratio other than the hundreds of your statues he made, he likes to learn about all your interests. Any subject you like, any conspiracy theory, any fictional book you are reading, any game/tv show lore, he wants to know it. There is knowledge in everything, and by knowing about your interests more, he would learn about more, and he desperately wants that.

Gallagher names all of his drinks after you. Something sweet? It's name after something he likes about you. Spicy? Something that makes you feisty. Bitter? Something you hate. The entire bar staff, especially Siobhan likes to tease you for it.

Gepard likes to draw for you, like a little child, 2 stick figures holding hand. Little picture of his dear family of 4 (you him and his sister), and stuff like that. Will cry if you put those drawings on the refrigerator or frame it, that's literally make his inner child so happy after the abuse he suffered in his childhood.

Jiaoqiu likes talking about you. Anyone and everyone who knows him or get to talk to him for more than 5 minutes, will know how amazing you are and how much he loves you.

Jing Yuan loves holding you. Just sit in his lap play your games on your phone and let him nap, his head resting on your shoulders, he can spend an eternity like this. He is his happiest when you're in physical contact with him, too much tome away from you and gets antsy and pouty like a kid, though he don't show that exteriorly, for the sake of his reputation, but for Yanqing it's quite obvious.

Luocha loves to take care of you. Feed you, help you groom, help you with any tasks, everything, nor is he the type to shy away from complimenting you, he is a merchant, he words are beautiful and filled with flattery almost like those anime butlers. You are his little prince/princess and he makes sure you know that with how special he makes you feel.

Moze will give the chocolate end of his ice cream cone. This man is very self sacrificing for his love. You are his top priority, and in his his you are worth more than him himself. His happiness in entirely based on yours.

Sampo like to make chocolates for you. Very random, I know, but each valentines day, he with the help of the moles, makes you homemade chocolate, even go as far as to craft the box for you. They are not the best nor the prettiest, but it comes from the bottom of his heart, also he surprisingly buys all the ingredients too rather than stealing them, so you better apprecite it.

Sunday loves to either sing or you to sleep, he would yap and yap, his voice so melodious, the lullaby he sings so calming and nostalgoc, taking you in his arms, and gently petting you. Other than his sister when she was a child, you are the only one blesses enough to hear this bird chirp.

Welt trying to use gen z or gen alpha slangs and failing (definitely tried using 'skibidi ' or 'rizz' unironically), trying to imitate the express trio's speach pattern, so he can be cool, and match up with you, despite his withering bones. Kiss the grandpa and appreciate his efforts.

I will write nasty Dottore smut to cleanse my sins of writing fluff soon! The next post will should be very big, so I hope I can complete before falling asleep.

[adore-laur]

the girls asking Harry & their mom how they fell in love ?

——

With bath time for the kids done and dusted, you fall onto the couch like a rag doll with your eldest daughter in your arms wearing a fluffy white robe. She's about to get the princess treatment—her favorite thing is when you comb through her curls with apple-scented detangling spray. Harry holds your youngest and rhythmically walks around the living room to make her sleepy. She's in her zip-up pajamas, and she smells like fresh lavender. Her eyes are not yet closed, but Harry knows what tricks to use. Before long, she'll drift off and be transferred to her crib, all clean and fed.

As you yawn, the little arm tucked in your embrace wiggles free. It'll take significantly longer for her to become sleepy, but you're hoping some snuggles and soothing hair brushing under the dim lights will speed up the process.

She points aimlessly toward the fireplace, yet her eyes track above it. The artificial plant? The pillar candle? The row of picture frames?

"What, baby?" you ask, kissing her damp curls while readying the comb and spray.

"Pretty dress," she says, aiming her finger more precisely. You follow it and smile sweetly. On the mantel shelf, there’s a photograph in an elegant gold frame. It has been proudly displayed there for nearly five years as a keepsake from one of the most euphoric days of your life. It's an eight-by-ten photo of you and Harry after your marriage ceremony, sitting in the sleek black limousine that chauffeured you both to the reception venue. Through the open window, the hired photographer captured the moment Harry tried to unclip your lace bridal veil. Your legs, covered by the lush and heavy silhouette of your gown, were thrown over his lap even when there was plenty of space to spread out.

The reason that particular photo is the chosen one for the living room is because of how you and Harry are looking at each other in it. His fingers, one in particular the forever home of a gold wedding band, were tangled in your intricately styled hair, working to unclasp the many pins lost in the strands. But his eyes were feasting on you—captivated, ecstatic, and soaking you in like you were the only thing that existed. His smile was the brightest part of the photo. He was mid-laugh, with his dimples deep, nose scrunched, and cheeks pushed up so that crinkles formed near his eyes. You can hardly remember what he was laughing at. He was giddier than a kid in a candy store, with unrestrained hands and excitement. He never did end up successfully removing your veil. His mother later helped him out, and it's now packed away in a storage box in the back of your closet.

Your expression in the photo is quite similar to his—irrepressible joy mixed with fierce love for your better half. The high resolution captured the residual tears in your eyes, which were caused by the overwhelming emotions from when you greeted family and friends after the ceremony concluded. It was a gorgeous, sunny day. The afternoon sunshine poured into the limousine and accentuated the details of your exquisite gown and Harry's traditional tuxedo. You parsed through countless photos after the honeymoon, and Harry agreed that this one encapsulated the intimate love you shared with each other the best. It always brought you back to that day and that indescribable feeling. It still makes your heart pound. You would marry him a million times over just to cherish every single second again.

When you and Harry started a family together, the mantle shelf was filled with more precious photographs over the years. Now, with two children, anniversary milestones, and vacation memories under your belt, it's a beautiful display of the life you built and experienced with Harry. It's a reminder of what life is all about.

"That's mommy's wedding dress," you say proudly, beginning to comb through her hair. Harry stops his laps around the rug and stares at the picture too.

"You wore it when you met Daddy?" she replies, a cute sense of curiosity quieting her voice.

You laugh and catch Harry's gaze just as a crooked smile breaks loose on his lips. "No, I wore it when I married him."

"Oh. What did you wear when you met Daddy?"

"Gosh, I don't think I even remember," you say, searching your brain for that night at the dive bar. It was a late-night encounter, and you were tipsy.

Harry, still staring at the wedding photo, says, "An open-back dress. Black, long, and form-fitting." He shakes his head, lost in thought. "Effortlessly gorgeous."

"How in the world do you remember that?" you ask, a blush crawling up your neck.

"The disco lights were dancing across your bare back." He shrugs, like the memory is permanently stamped inside his brain. "I'll never forget that sight."

"It was a funeral dress?" your daughter asks, piecing together the visual her father verbally painted.

"Definitely not," Harry says, sending a secret smirk your way.

"Where did you see mommy in the black dress?" She lets you move her head around as you spritz her hair with the detangling spray.

"We were at the same... restaurant," you say slowly, careful not to mention bars around her. Better to keep her innocence alive as long as possible.

"What did you eat?"

"We didn't eat," you reply. "We had strawberry and lemon drinks." You intentionally leave out the infused with alcohol part.

"What did Daddy say?"

You smile, loving her endless questions. "He asked me questions about myself. Made me feel comfortable and special. Unfortunately, our conversation didn't last very long. Mommy was tired and had to go home."

"And Daddy thought he was never going to see her again," Harry added theatrically. "He was really bummed out about it, but by some magical force, he crossed paths with her a month later."

"Magic?" Your daughter whispers the childlike word, her eyes wide with interest.

"It sure seemed like it," Harry says, gently sitting beside you so as not to wake the baby. He looks at you, and somehow, his eyes transport you right back to the start of it all. "Took us three tries to finally get things right."

You lean forward to kiss him tenderly. "Look at us now."

He reciprocates the kiss—his is a bit more urgent and sentimental. He then admires his daughters, both on the verge of sleep, and rubs his palm over where his heart is. "Thank you for choosing me, baby," he says to you. There seems to be emotion lodging in his throat, but he clears it away and breathes in deeply. "I'm yours every day. And I love you for infinite reasons, but growing our little family has the number one spot in my heart."

You toss the comb aside and hug him, your daughters cocooned by two souls that somehow found each other more than once. By magic, fate, or simply coincidence, you truly lucked out.

——

[lilacwants]

i don’t know if you weite for other The Boys characters but if you do i would love something soft with A-Train. he has a rare moment of downtime and he and his partner can go out on the town and try to have a quiet date night. they both get dressed up nice and head out to their reservation at some fancy new restaurant… chaos ensues in one way or another.

obviously he’s one of the most popular recognizable people in america so those plans for a relaxing evening together go to shit. people asking for photos and generally not respecting Reggie or his partner. they end up just going back in early for the night, cuddling up with takeout and a movie.

i would live for this to be with a gender neutral reader if possible.

if you do write this, thank you so much!

- 🎠

a quiet night in.

notes : of course anon!!! this is such a sweet ask <3 summary: A-Train's attempt at a quiet dinner date is disrupted by fans, but he and his partner find comfort in each other, ending the night with takeout and a cozy movie at home. warnings: tooth rotting fluff, we love a train :')

The city lights sparkled like jewels, a kaleidoscope of colors reflecting off the skyscrapers as A-Train, or Reggie as you called him, stood beside you. Tonight, he wasn't the supe, the speedster, the face everyone knew. He was simply your Reggie, dressed in a tailored suit that hugged his athletic frame perfectly. You adjusted your outfit, feeling a bit nervous but excited about the night ahead.

Reggie had managed to carve out some rare downtime and the two of you were determined to make the most of it. Your reservation at one of the newest, fanciest restaurants in the city was the highlight of the week. As you both walked hand in hand towards the entrance, you could feel the stares and hear the murmurs.

"Isn't that A-Train?" "Oh my God, it's really him!"

Reggie squeezed your hand gently, a silent reassurance that he was here with you, for you. Inside, the ambiance was perfect—soft lighting, a gentle hum of conversation, and the aroma of exquisite cuisine wafting through the air. The maître d' led you to your table, and you both settled in, hoping for an uninterrupted evening.

But as soon as you sat down, the bubble of tranquility burst. A couple at a nearby table started whispering loudly, their excitement palpable. Soon, one brave soul approached.

“Hey, A-Train! Big fan, man. Can I get a picture?"

Reggie forced a polite smile, his eyes flicking to you apologetically. "Sure, just one," he said, standing up for the photo.

One photo turned into three, then five, then what felt like an endless stream of admirers. The restaurant, which had initially seemed a haven, transformed into a circus of flashing cameras and excited chatter. You watched Reggie try to balance his public persona with his desire to be with you, his frustration growing more visible with each intrusion.

After what felt like an eternity, the waiter finally brought your appetizers. You both tried to enjoy them, but the constant interruptions made it impossible to relax.

"Hey, man, could you sign this?"

"Can I get a shout-out for my Instagram?"

By the time the main course arrived, Reggie looked ready to bolt. The final straw was when a particularly eager fan knocked over a glass of wine, splashing it onto your outfit. The fan apologized profusely, but the damage was done.

Reggie stood up, his jaw clenched. "I'm really sorry," he said, addressing both the fan and you. "But we have to go."

You didn't argue. The night, which had promised so much, was now a disappointment. As you stepped out into the cool night air, Reggie pulled you close, his arm around your shoulders.

"I'm so sorry," he murmured, his frustration giving way to genuine regret. "I just wanted us to have a nice night."

You shook your head, leaning into him. "It's okay, Reggie. I know you tried."

The walk back to his apartment was quiet, the city bustling around you but feeling oddly distant. Once inside, you both changed into more comfortable clothes. Reggie ordered takeout from your favorite place, and you set up a movie, hoping to salvage the evening.

When the food arrived, you spread it out on the coffee table, the comforting aroma of noodles and dumplings filling the room. You both settled on the couch, your legs tangled together as the movie started.

As the opening credits rolled, Reggie sighed, pulling you closer. "I hate that I can't give you a normal night out."

You looked up at him, seeing the genuine care and frustration in his eyes. "Reggie, this is perfect. We don't need fancy restaurants or big nights out. I just need you."

His expression softened, and he kissed your forehead. "I love you," he whispered.

You smiled, snuggling into him. "I love you too."

The movie played on, but it was more of a background to your quiet conversation and shared laughter. The chaos of the evening melted away, leaving just the two of you in your little bubble of comfort and love.

As you drifted off to sleep in his arms, you realized that these were the moments that mattered. The quiet nights in, the takeout dinners, and the feeling of being completely at ease with each other. This was your perfect night, after all. <3

[ninibeingdelulu]

Is it love ? ✧

Plot : You notice how your boyfriend is more comfortable in the relationship.

The evening stillness enveloped you both in its tranquil cocoon after that grueling match. Bodies utterly depleted yet gloriously sated in the afterglow of Rin's latest dominant performance on the pitch.

You lounged together atop the rumpled bedsheets, one of your novels dangling lazily from your fingers as the wandering twilight spilled through the curtains in molten rivulets.

Rin's tousled black mane fanned out across your bare thighs where his head lay pillowed.

Impossibly long lashes fanned across those chiseled aristocratic features in repose while you drank in every detail illuminated by the dying embers.

An unbidden smile tugged at your lips remembering the raw intensity blazing from Rin's prussian blue gaze earlier while he sliced through the opposition's defenses with those transcendently honed predatory instincts.

Moving with such decisive, ruthless efficiency and power that even you'd found yourself shamelessly aroused just witnessing the sheer dominance emanating from his physique in motion.

Yet here cradled against you now, all those razor edges appeared to soften and blunt beneath your delicate ministrations gradually gentling the ferocious beast-like focus into blissful languor.

Your fingers idly trailed in hypnotic eddies through the silken strands spilled carelessly about Rin's face and chiseled jawline.

An indulgent purr rumbled past that sensuous pout, the sound alone igniting frissons erupting across your skin in waves of tingling adulation.

Just picturing those plush lips closing around your flesh in searing caresses, their insistent possession devouring you wholly.

How privileged you suddenly felt anew that the real Rin Itoshi entrusted only you with tenderly cradling his unguarded state, permitting his steely edges to temporarily blunt into malleable putty under your adoring attentions alone.

Relinquishing every rigid defensive barrier keeping the world at calculated arm's length so only you may reverently stroke the fire smoldering behind those blazing sapphires into embers of pure intimacy burning for you alone...

After all, in those initial weeks and months you'd dated, Rin kept you rigorously held at a distance equivalent to every other unworthy human swarming on the peripherals of his stratospheric orbit.

Not to mention you'd absorbed the full brunt of his exquisitely chiseled disdain and acid tongue yourself more times than you cared to recollect.

All defenses fortified full tilt while his imposingly statuesque figure radiated icy removal a thousand miles away.

Yet persistent glimpses you caught of infinitely warmer embers flickering behind those piercing irises even when directed your way steadily chipped through the glacial facade you grew determined to fully thaw.

Just like the electrifying jolts that ignited your core whenever that lithe, predatory frame moved with calculated leonine grace in your proximity.

You'd relished the rare occasions Rin's granite visage fractured into grudging half-smirks while imparting casual flashes of searing charisma and roguish charm beyond his control before that mask snapped back into place.

Or the indescribable rapture transmitted through your linked gazes as you cheered every match from the sidelines pouring encouragement and admiration into fueling Rin's already blazing fire...

Each coveted moment and incremental surrender ultimately amassed into the indescribable privilege of him voluntarily cutting you inside the electric fence securing that inner world and true self Rin guarded so obsessively.

You who'd painstakingly persisted through the sharpest rebukes and dismissals to ignite the minuscule spark of tenderness now cradled so intimately between you both in this hushed space.

Closer than anyone else could ever hope to penetrate.

So your luminous smile only intensified gazing down at the proud yet boyishly tranquil visage you alone witnessed in slumbering repose.

More enamored than ever witnessing the wondrous metamorphosis you'd catalyzed through steadfast patience and adoration.

Until the quintessentially formidable Alpha of Rin Itoshi became the cherished diamond radiating prismatic warmth from his core in your loving embrace alone.

[starrykaulitz]

could you write more older tom🙏🏼 i love the way you write for him🩷🩷

$ shameful, sinful, immoral.

when you let me start to love you, its like a bunch of broken picture frames.

warnings; language, smut (18+), dirty talk, rough tom, unhealthy?, p in v, cheating, cigarettes.

it was so wrong of her, so immoral, so against anything she’d ever stand for; but she was doing it for him, with him.

she gripped onto his long locks of hair, fingers almost carving into his scalp. his tongue lapped up any juices in which she’d released. he was acting starved, vicious in the way his mouth engulfed her aching bud.

the prey which now writhed under tom’s animalistic grip was letting out puny whines, groans and moans falling from her plump lips.

“stay still.” he monotoned between licks, his fingers pressing marks into her thighs as he split her open.

he groaned deeply against her, her eyes rolling to the back of her head, her grip on the pale sheets bellow her curling and scrunching them in ecstasy. she felt as tom’s large hand snaked upward from her thigh, gently washing his digits over her concaved stomach until he met with her soft breast.

he massaged it, palmed it until it seemed to mould to his hand. then, her aching core was met with the cool summer air of the open window. his head had left the crevice of her legs, left her longing for his rough and brutal touch.

she whined at the absence of his beard against her now aching pussy, though she was met with an exquisite view. tom, sat on his knees between her legs, unbuckling the belt to his jeans. she observed intently as they fell to his knees, his boxers joining them in suit.

she would never get used to looking at how big tom was, at how his size seemed to threaten her whole body whenever it’d enter her, tear her in two, mould her pussy to its exact form.

she hated that she wasn’t able to call him hers, wasn’t able to be invited into his home—only into motels on those secret friday nights, picking her up out the front of some bus stop hidden beneath a singular street-light.

his wife, what was she doing right now? most definitely not thinking that her most innocent husband was off fucking some young, petite model in some cheap, tacky motel.

though the girl didn’t care, she’d never care as long as tom continued to meet her on these friday summer nights, make her forget all her concerns, make her feel special for only mere moments as ecstasy and tension overcame the two lustful beings.

he stared into the girls eyes, searching for the okay as he began to enter her, as he caused that familiar preliminary pain.

she let out a throaty moan and threw her head back against the pillow below her, he’d barely given her enough time to get used to his size before he began to pound into her relentlessly.  

“tom!” she cried out, gripping onto his arms as crescents from her acrylic nails became fruitful against his tan skin, now slick with sweat.

he groaned deeply against her neck, muffling curse words as he took advantage of her tight pussy. he bit softly at the clear skin on her neck, placing purple marks soon to be dappled amongst her pale skin.

“fuck… you always feel so good.” he grunted as his pace quickened with ease, the familiar feeling of her legs wrapping around his slim waist only encouraging his roughness.

“harder, tom!” she cried, needing to feel the pain that came amongst the pleasure of his sex.

tom attended to her request, the sound of skin slapping against skin heightening, echoing throughout the small motel room-- neither cared if anyone could hear them.

her hands slowly slithered from his brawny arm to his tense back, scraping and clawing at any skin she could. she needed him closer, needed him deeper. he cried out at the grazes and aching marks which the girl left from beneath him, paying him back for the pain his length was causing her.

“i-im…” she tried to let the words fall from her mouth, but they seemed to catch on her tongue. her body bounced backward and forward as his demanding and rough pumping only became more and more vicious. he wanted to destroy her, eat her alive until she was just a longing mess.

“use your words, sweetie…” he trailed off before nibbling at the lobe of her ear.

“im close!” she finally cried out, uncrossing and untangling her tongue as she felt the knot within her begin to loosen intensely.

“god… already? your just made for this dick, arnt’cha.” he hummed lowly into her ear, his breath heated against her already boiling skin.

and with a yelp, the pathetic girl came undone beneath her predator.

he threw his head back as her hole tightened around him, guttural groans leaving his body as he continued to hammer pumps into her now throbbing entrance.  

“tom, please!” she squealed, though that wasn’t enough to stop him. tom was now drowned in lust, his long hair swaying back and forth as he watched how her breasts bounced in time with his plunges.

watching her struggle beneath him only encouraged the pounding and overstimulation the girl was receiving, only lured him further into the way her body seemed to almost become numb to the feeling.

finally, he’d halted his thrusts for only a mere moment. his rough hands snatched the overwhelmed girl’s waist, flipping her over with absolute affluence until her ass had been in the air, back arched and almost begging for his entry.

he admired the state she was in, the way that she’d barely been able to hold herself together, how she was almost fucked to pieces after only one orgasm. his wife couldn’t give him this, couldn’t give him the satisfaction of fucking someone until they’d forget their own name, until the only name they could remember was his own.

he’d never fucked someone like her, someone so pathetic yet so alluring. someone so petite yet so full of fiery lust. she was perfect to him, a doll in which was created for his own sinful satisfaction, used by him until broken, fucked out until hollow.

she cried out against the plush pillow below her as she felt him enter once again, slamming directly into her uterus. her knuckles turned a milky white as they clung desperately to the same pillow which seemed to be the only thing keeping her from falling to pieces.

tom let out a long, lustful, rasping moan as he connected their skin. his pumping hastened, his body beginning to mould to her back all whilst his long arm reached under her until it met with her swollen clit.

“tom, no!” though he continued to rub figure eights into its wet centre, just how he knew she liked. every ‘no’ had only been an invitation to keep going—the girl knew exactly what to say if she really wanted tom to stop.

she felt pathetic beneath him, pathetic because she already felt her second orgasm building in her guts, building in her brain as her vision became blurry.

soon, the only sounds her body had been able to produce were slurred and slippery moans, desperate and sloppy attempts in releasing her pleasure from some hole other than the one being stuffed by tom. she couldn’t think against his dick, couldn’t think as she listened to the way he praised and spanked her ass.

she felt his hot breath against the skin of her nape before another bite mark was planted, then another, then another, until the entirety of her back seemed to glow a dark purple.

“you look so fucking good like this, taking me so well.” his german accent pricked at the tip of his tongue as he interchanged between dialects.

“you gonna cum again? fucking slut, twice before I’ve even finished once.” she had no idea why, but his harsh words only made her fall deeper into his trap, deeper into the way she was already so close to finishing for the second time that night.

though not only was she near her end, she felt as tom began twitching within her, felt his fingers grip and rip into the skin on her waist crueller, more desperately, as if preparing himself to be slammed by a tsunami of desire.

as the pathetic girl beneath him came undone for the second time, he listened intently to the whines that fell out of her gaping mouth. the noises she was producing were utter sin, vulgar and filthy to those who weren’t within the act—animalistic and loutish.

and with that, with the feeling of her body collapsing in on itself, the feeling of her organs tightening and twisting around his dick, he came undone in a singular thrust. a rasping moan escaped his parted lips, followed by a string of curses as he filled her with his seed—keeping himself planted within her to ensure that none of it would seep out.

his head, which was thrown backward, finally tilted upright until facing the mangled girl, the only thing holding her up and toward him being tom’s pure strength—or what was left of it.

as he slowly left her aching hole, he watched as the singular string of mixed liquids followed. he smirked, attempting to ignore the ringing in his ears and the darkening behind his eye-lids.

“you okay?” he let out finally, tone laced with worry as he watched the girl unmoving beneath him. though that concern was soon lost as he watched the small nod of her head against the pillow.

his fingers tenderly fluttered against the skin of her waist, following the crevices of her body until they had reached the hair which stuck to her forehead by sweat. he brushed it away, placing it gently behind her ear, watching amusingly at her chest rising and falling.

she was perfect—so utterly perfect, could be compared to even a doll. he moved from hovering over her to sinking the bed beside her, instantly reaching to the bedside table alongside him, taking a packet of cigarettes and a lighter from it. removing one from its paper packaging, he placed it between perked lips as it lit to life, a long puff of smoke leaving him as if the ghost which possessed him during his heinous act vanished into the heavy air of the night.

finally, the girl beside him had gained enough vitality to move faintly, using this energy to turn to her side, to face the man who sat in silence.  

“tom.” her tone was laced with worry, questioning, just as his was.

“your wife… what will-“

“do not mention her.” almost instantly, he shut down the girls question, another cloud of smoke leaving his red lips as his frows burrowed, though his eyes swayed from her own. he couldn’t look at her, couldn’t face the consequence of the very action in which had been happening for much too long now.

silence lingered between the two, both pairs of eyes looking at everything that wasn’t the other.

then, tom’s deep voice spoke, uttered the words in which she had never wanted to hear, words in which would shatter and break her heart in two.

“I can’t see you again.”

[spicymambaae]

Shadows Of Love

The neon glow of the "Illusion" bar cast a seductive aura, beckoning the lost souls of the night. Inside, a mix of hushed conversations and the clinking of glasses painted an enticing backdrop. Amidst the dimly lit room, Winter, a woman of striking beauty ,sat at the bar, her short brown hair falling gracefully around her face, which was as cold as the winter winds that bore her name. Possessing a delicate yet fierce beauty, she sipped her whiskey with a tranquil, distant expression that offered just a glimpse of the inner chaos she concealed.

Winter had come to this bar for a momentary escape, a reprieve from the shadows she lived in. Tonight, she wasn't seeking vengeance; she was merely seeking a brief respite from the ghosts of her past.

On the opposite end of the bar, Karina had already delved into her third glass of bourbon, the grip of inhibition loosening with each sip. Dressed in a tight black dress that exposed a tasteful hint of cleavage, the garment accentuated her exquisite curves. With an air of authority, she exuded an ethereal beauty, her raven-black hair framing her face. Her magnetic presence captured the attention of everyone in her vicinity. As she indulged in her drink, her gaze remained fixed on Winter, her fascination with the enigmatic woman growing by the moment.

Karina couldn't help but notice the enigmatic woman at the bar. Her beauty was undeniable, but it was her aura of quiet mystery that drew Karina in. Encouraged by alcohol's courage, she decided to approach her.

Karina made her way to the other side of the bar, taking a seat next to Winter. Her fragrance, a captivating contrast to her tough exterior, awakened Winter's senses. Their gazes locked, sparking an immediate magnetic connection between them.

"Bourbon, please," Karina ordered, her voice confident, though a hint of shyness lingered in her eyes.

Winter raised an eyebrow and offered a faint smile as she gestured for the bartender to comply with the order.

"Nice choice," Winter remarked, her voice smooth and sultry. "Not many have the taste for it."

Karina, drawn to Winter's aura, allowed herself a small smile. "I suppose I enjoy a bit of adventure from time to time."

Winter's eyes sparkled mischievously as she savored another sip of her drink. "Adventure can be quite enticing," she said, briefly allowing her gaze to dip toward Karina's cleavage. Her imagination wandered for a moment, picturing herself nestled between Karina's breasts before she lifted her gaze back to lock with Karina's, a newfound fascination evident in her eyes.

With an intrigue in her eyes, Karina leaned closer. "What's your idea of adventure, then?"

Winter's lips curved into a sly grin. "Wouldn't you like to find out?"

As the night wore on and drinks flowed freely, the two women shared stories and laughter, their connection growing stronger. Karina, in her slightly inebriated state, couldn't help but become more transparent about her life.

"I'm a detective," she admitted, a touch of vulnerability creeping into her voice. "I'm about to retire, and I have one last case to solve."

Winter's heart raced. The mention of her profession sent shivers down her spine. Still, she couldn't resist the opportunity that had fallen into her lap.

"A detective, huh?" Winter purred, her fingers grazing Karina's hand, sending a thrilling sensation through her. "Tell me more."

Karina leaned in closer, her words tinged with flirtation. "I'm actually working on a big case," she confessed, her voice lower. "There's an assassin on the loose, targeting police officers. I'm determined to catch him before I retire."

Winter's heart pounded in her chest as the pieces of the puzzle fell into place. She remembered the night her brother was killed, the police officer she had seen. Karina had been there - a slender body with alluring curves, a face of extraordinary beauty that Winter could never mistake for anyone else's.

Winter leaned in closer, their faces just inches apart. "An assassin, you say? Now, that's something I find genuinely intriguing."

Karina, feeling daring, brushed her fingers against Winter's arm. "It's a dangerous job, but I'm used to living on the edge. What about you, Winter? What do you do?"

Winter's mind raced. She had a chance to use Karina's pursuit for her own revenge. She leaned in, her lips tantalizingly close to Karina's ear "I dabble in a bit of this and that," she replied, her voice a low purr. "But tonight, I'm here for a different kind of thrill."

The two women continued their conversation, their words intermingling with charged tension and an undeniable undercurrent of attraction. As their conversation deepened, accidental touches became more frequent, fingers brushing against enticing curves with a tantalizing softness. They inched closer, the magnetic pull drawing them nearer, their breaths growing heavier, as if they were getting drunk on the intoxicating proximity of one another, their words blending with the sweet, heady promise of desire. Karina, under the influence of alcohol, was inadvertently revealing more than she intended. Winter, seizing the opportunity to have fun, decided to play along.

"I've always had a taste for danger," Winter admitted, her fingers lightly tracing Karina's thigh and she felt her shiver.

Karina's cheeks flushed as she leaned closer to Winter, their breaths mingling. "Why do I have the feeling that you are the danger?”

"You think I might be that assassin?" she asked jokingly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Karina nodded, her eyes never leaving Winter's. "I'm not sure," she said giggling, "but I'm determined to find out."

Winter felt a thrill of excitement, a rush of adrenaline. She knew she should run, should disappear before it was too late. But the thought of spending more time with Karina, of getting closer to her, was too tempting to resist.

"Then let's play a game," Winter said, her voice low and seductive. "Let's see if you can catch me."

Karina smiled, her eyes full of lust and fire. "I'm up for the challenge."

With a devilish glint in her eye, Winter stood up, taking Karina's hand. "Come with me. I think we should continue this somewhere more private" she whispered.

Karina's heart raced as the anticipation built. Little did she know that this encounter would mark the beginning of a passionate and dangerous journey, where love and revenge would entwine in ways neither of them could have ever imagined. ----- Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4/ Part 2 AO3

[delusionalmishka]

Blue Blood pt.4

(pt1)(pt2)(pt3)

Summary: After the turmoil at Driftmark, King Viserys attempted to mend family divisions by arranging a marriage between Alicent's son, Aemond Targaryen, and Rhaenyra's daughter, Lucenya Velaryon; when King Viserys died and the Greens and the Blacks war began to unravel, the arrangement fell through. On the brink of war, Lucenya was sent to Storm's End as an envoy. Aemond didn’t plan on letting his bastard bride slip through his fingers one more time. She’d owned him for his left eye.

warnings for this chapter: none for now.

The day of Lucenya's presentation to Aegon's court had come too quickly. Her body was still frail, her bruises fading to a shade of light green and purples and there was a sharp pain in her right side, but she had to endure, it was Alicent’s command.

The maids dressed her in an emerald green velvet gown that clung to her slender frame, the deep color contrasting starkly with her pale skin. The gown's bodice was intricately embroidered with silver thread, tracing delicate patterns of vines and flowers. The sleeves were long and fitted, ending in graceful points at her wrists, while the skirt flowed down in soft, sweeping folds that brushed against the floor with each step.

Her hair, a rich dark brown hair had been carefully arranged into loose waves cascading down her back. Atop her head, she wore a Valyrian steel tiara that had belonged to her grandmother, Aemma. The tiara was a masterpiece of craftsmanship, its delicate filigree design adorned with small, sparkling gems that caught the light with every movement.

Lucenya glanced in the mirror, her reflection a painful reminder of her current situation. The gown was exquisite but symbolized everything she despised about her captivity, although the tiara she wore, as a token of her lineage and strength gave her a small measure of comfort. 

Aemond was in the dressing room with her, as he always seemed to be, his presence a constant shadow. His single eye tracked her every movement, a mix of possessiveness and something she couldn't quite identify.

He was also dressed impeccably in rich fabrics and his long silver hair was braided. A sword hung from his belt, a constant reminder of his martial prowess and the threat he posed.

"It's time," Aemond said quietly, offering her his arm. She hesitated for a moment before taking it, feeling his strength and warmth through the fabric of his sleeve. His touch was steady, grounding her amid this nightmare.

As they slowly walked through the grand hall towards the Iron Throne room, respecting Lucy’s slow pace, Aemond's mind wandered. He imagined himself sitting on the Iron Throne, with Lucenya by his side as his queen. He pictured her in the same emerald green gown, her tiara gleaming as she looked down upon their united realm. The thought filled him with bitterness. If only he were the eldest son, he could have had all this without the need for bloodbath and betrayal.

They approached their destination, and the sound of bards and conversation from within made Lucenya's heart pound inside her chest. She hated the spectacle that was being made of her, a clear display of power to show that they had Rhaenyra's daughter.

As they entered the packed throne room, Lucenya's eyes immediately found Haelena, who sat quietly to the side, right next to Otto Hightower. There was a softness in Haelena's expression, a sympathy that Lucenya found herself grateful for. It was a small comfort in this, amid endless hostility.

The Iron Throne room was packed with nobles and supporters of Aegon, their presence suffocating as Aegon lounged on the Iron Throne, a smug smile playing on his lips. Alicent stood nearby, her face serene but her eyes sharp, dressed in green from head to toe. The courtiers whispered among themselves, the air filled with pity and curiosity. Lucenya's eyes scanned the room, desperate for a familiar face among the sea of enemies. The looks of other noblemen, hungry and curious, made her skin crawl. She tried to maintain her composure, but the pressure was immense.

Her eyes widened when she caught the eyes of no other than Allun Caswell. The bald and older man has been a fierce supporter of her mother’s cause, he and Lady Caswell even visited Dragonstone a couple of times. She quickly turned her gaze away but Lucy felt Caswell’s eyes on her. 

Aemond's presence was stifling, Lucy knew his presence was there to keep her in check, his single eye always coming back to her.  To Aemond, Lucenya was the prettiest lady in the room by far. Despite being a bastard, she carried herself with a regal grace that matched his own. In his eyes, she was royalty - she was even fluent in High Valiryan- and the thought filled him with a twisted sense of pride. She was officially his in the eyes of the court, and he relished the idea of having her by his side.

As they moved closer to the throne, Aegon's gaze settled on them, his amusement evident. "Welcome, Lucenya Velaryon," he said, his voice dripping with condescension. "You honor us with your presence," Lucy noticed his slurred words. 

Lucenya could not quite grasp the belief that Aegon would be a better ruler than her mother. 

Lucy forced herself to meet his gaze, her chin held high despite the fear and anger boiling inside her. "Your Grace," she replied, her voice steady. "I am here under duress, not by choice."

Aegon's smile widened, a predatory gleam in his eyes. "Nevertheless, you are here. And you look quite ravishing in green, niece. It suits you!"

Lucenya's grip on Aemond's arm tightened, but she kept her expression neutral. "I wear it as I must," she said coldly.

Alicent stepped forward. "You will find that duty often comes with sacrifice," she said. "Embrace the honor you have been given." 

Lucenya's stomach churned with anger and helplessness. She wanted to lash out, to scream at them for their arrogance and cruelty. But she knew that now was not the time. She needed to bide her time. Aemond sensed her turmoil and squeezed her waist gently, a silent reminder of his presence and support. She glanced at him, seeing the conflict in his eye. There was a part of him that genuinely cared for her, despite the obvious distaste for her and her family.

 It was a twisted, possessive kind of care, but he still cared.

The Iron Throne room had been transformed for the banquet, filled with the sound of music and the clinking of goblets. Tables were laden with an extravagant feast, the finest food, and endless supplies of wine and ale. The atmosphere was one of forced merriment, an attempt to celebrate the frail strength and unity of Aegon's rule. Lucy felt anything but festive.

Lucenya took her seat next to Aemond, who sat close. The wine flowed freely, and she welcomed it, downing several goblets to numb the discomfort of her injuries and the ache of her heart. Each sip dulled the pain, both physical and emotional, but it did little to quiet the storm of thoughts in her mind.

Across the room, Aegon reveled in the attention, his laughter loud and grating. Alicent sat beside him, her face a mask of composed satisfaction. Lucenya caught her eye briefly and saw the woman nodding her head at her. 

She’s been behaving well.

Her eyes turned to Allun Caswell again, the older man’s eyes still on her and a glimpse of worry crossed his features when their eyes met. 

{...}

The music played on, a lively tune that felt out of place in the oppressive atmosphere. Lucenya forced herself to smile and play the part of the compliant captive. She engaged in polite conversation with the nobles who approached her, their thinly veiled curiosity and disdain evident. Every so often, she glanced at Allun Caswell, who lingered at the edges of the room. His presence was a small comfort, a reminder that she wasn't entirely alone.

"Are you enjoying the feast?" Aemond's voice broke through her thoughts, his tone was rushed and gentle. 

She turned to him, offering a strained smile. "It's... quite a spectacle," she replied, choosing her words carefully.

Aemond nodded, his gaze lingering on her for a moment longer before shifting back to the room. "You look beautiful tonight," he said, his voice so low she almost didn't catch it.

"Thank you," she responded, her heart not in the compliment. "It's the dress your mother chose for me."

Aemond's expression darkened briefly, but he said nothing more. Instead, he reached for her hand, squeezing it gently. Lucy noticed how his hand was much bigger than hers, his skin covered in thin scars and roughness, years of training behind them. "Stay close to me tonight," he said, his voice firmer. "I won't let anyone hurt you."

Lucenya's thoughts raced. She knew his protection came at a cost, but for now, she needed to play along. "I appreciate that," she said softly, her eyes meeting his. "But why are you doing this? Why care so much?"

Aemond's jaw tightened, his gaze intense. "It's my duty as your future husband," he replied. "We've been promised to each other since we were children. I will uphold that promise."

Before she could respond, Aegon called for a toast, raising his goblet high. "To the future of our realm!" he declared, his eyes glittering with malice as he stared in Lucy’s direction. "May we crush our enemies and secure our legacy!"

The room erupted in cheers, the sound ringing in Lucenya's ears. She raised her goblet reluctantly, her heart heavy with the weight of her predicament. As she took another big sip, she caught Aegon's eye, his smile was chilling as he downed his own golden goblet. Lucy broke the eye contact, she did not have time to let Aegon get under her skin. 

After the toast, the banquet continued, the revelry growing louder and more chaotic. Lucy leaned back in her chair, her head spinning from the wine. She glanced at Allun again, trying to convey her desperation with a look. He gave her a small nod and started to walk in their direction.

Her heart raced. Did he misunderstand her silent signals? 

When Allun reached Lucenya, he extended a courteous hand, as was customary. With a practiced grace, he took her hand in his, bringing it to his lips for a respectful kiss. It was during this seemingly innocent gesture that Allun made his move. With a subtle shift of his fingers, he managed to slip a small, folded note into Lucenya’s hand, his touch light but deliberate.

The note was tiny and folded tightly. Lucy’s heart raced as she felt the paper’s weight in her hand. She quickly closed her fingers around it, ensuring it was hidden from view.

“It is a relief to see you in good health, Princess Lucenya.” 

Aemond’s keen eyes were on them, his expression unreadable but alert. As Allun withdrew with a bow directed to the prince, his gaze lingered a moment longer than necessary, filled with a hint of concern that Lucenya hoped was genuine. Aemond’s irritation flared when he noticed the interaction, and he immediately moved to interject, his hand closing around Lucenya’s wrist with a possessive grip.

“What was that about?” Aemond’s voice was low and edged with frustration as he pulled Lucy’s attention away from Caswell. His eye was sharp, searching for any hint of deceit or hidden meaning.

Lucenya forced herself to maintain a calm facade, though her pulse quickened and her stomach churned. “Nothing of importance,” she replied, her voice steady despite the tension. “He was just being polite.”

Aemond’s scrutiny did not waver, but he chose not to press the matter further. Instead,he took another sip of how wine, but his hand did not left her wrist, his grip firm but not harsh. The conversation continued around them, but Lucy’s thoughts were consumed by the note clutched tightly in her hand.

{...} 

As the banquet drew to a close, Lucy found herself feeling the effects of the wine she had consumed throughout the evening. The alcohol buzzed in her veins, dulling the sharp edges of her fear and anger but leaving her mind in a haze. She stumbled slightly as she rose from the table, and Aemond was immediately at her side, his arm steadying her.

“Careful,” he murmured, his tone softer than she expected and she felt heat rising to her cheeks when she caught a glimpse of his smirking lips. Aemond was overwhelming, his height and the aura of command he exuded making him seem larger than life. As much as Lucy hated herself for it, she had to admit her uncle had grown into a fine man, much taller than her and even taller than her brother Jace. It was a realization that hit her with a mix of emotions she couldn’t fully process in her inebriated state. 

Aemond guided her through the winding and corridors of the Red Keep, his hand firm but gentle around her. She felt the warmth of his touch through the fabric of her dress, a sensation that confused her muddled thoughts. When they reached her chambers, he led her inside and carefully closed the door behind them.

Lucenya expected Aemond to call the maids to help her undress and get ready for bed, but she was not surprised when he started to work on the laces and ties of her dress himself. She stood still, feeling the wine's warmth in her veins and the buzz of the banquet still lingering in her mind.

Aemond’s fingers moved deftly, loosening the intricate bindings of her emerald green dress. His touch was firm yet unexpectedly gentle, and Lucenya couldn’t help but notice the careful way he handled her. The fabric slowly slid off her shoulders, leaving her on with the thin and see-through undertunic. Chills raised in her skin when she felt his cold fingers brush along her skin, his touch lingering. The was silence thick between then, the only thing heard in the room was the crackling of the fire. 

“You should rest,” Aemond murmured as he continued his work, his voice low and soothing. He moved behind her, untangling the ribbons and curls of her hair with the same careful precision. She watched his reflection in the mirror, noting the intensity of his gaze, the way his single eye focused on the task at hand.

Her mind drifted as he worked, and she thought about the note Allun Caswell had slipped into her hand earlier in the evening. It was hidden beneath her pillow now, a small sliver of hope blooming in her chest. 

Aemond’s hands lingered on her shoulders for a moment before he guided her to the bed, his expression softening as he looked at her. Lucenya’s thoughts were a whirlwind of confusion and exhaustion, the alcohol in her system making it hard to think clearly.

She was surprised when he didn’t immediately leave. Instead, he hesitated, standing over her with a conflicted look in his eye. Then, without warning, he leaned down and held her face, his hand cupping her chin as strands of his silver hair tickled her skin. He pressed his lips to hers in a kiss.

Lucenya’s thoughts were swirling in her head, the strong wine she'd consumed blurred the lines between her desires and her will. For a moment, she let her wants speak louder and kissed him back. Her lips moved against his, responding to the unexpected tenderness. There was a part of her that craved the connection, the comfort, even if it was from him.

The kiss deepened, a swirl of conflicting emotions as Aemond's hand moved to the back of her neck, pulling her closer. The intensity of the moment made her heart race, and for a brief, intoxicating instant, she let herself get lost in it. The world outside their kiss faded away, leaving only the heat between them.

But as quickly as it began, it ended. Aemond pulled away, his breath warm against her skin. His gaze lingered on her face, his thumb brushing against her rose tinted cheeks. "I will see you in the morrow," he said quietly, turning to leave.

Lucy lay there, her mind a mess of regret and confusion as the door closed behind him with a soft click. The reality of what had just happened sank in, and she felt a pang of guilt and anger at herself. She had given in, even if just for a moment, and she knew it would only feed into Aemond's feelings of possession he had over her. 

She touched her lips, still feeling the ghost of his kiss, and her resolve hardened. She couldn’t afford to let her guard down, no matter how desperate or lonely she felt. 

Instead of wallowing in those feelings, she forced herself to take a deep breath. She had to stay focused. She searched the room, her eyes darting around until she found Allun's note tucked under her pillow. 

Allun's note, hastily scribbled but clear, read:

Lady Lucenya,

Do not lose hope. There are those loyal to your mother even here. At midnight tomorrow, find a way to the servants' entrance near the kitchens. A small boat will be waiting for you. We must move quickly and quietly.

Stay strong.

— Allun Caswell

Holding it in her hands, she felt the tears well up in her eyes. 

As she read the note again, tears spilled over. Allun's message gave her a glimmer of hope, a chance to escape and return to her family. She had to be strong, not just for herself but for her mother, her brother, and everyone who depended on her.

Lucenya tucked the note back under her pillow and wiped her tears away. She would have to be clever and resourceful to pull off the escape. The servants' entrance near the kitchens—it was her only chance. She had to find a way to slip past Aemond and the guards.

She lay back on her bed, her mind racing with plans and possibilities. The thought of freedom, of reuniting with her family, fueled her determination. She would not let Aemond trap her any longer. She had to escape, no matter the cost.

(AO3)

[owlphibiansprite]

the moment i started shipping kabumisu (spoilers ahead for chapters 45-62)

okay. this is gonna be a long one.

you'd think i'd be reasonable and start shipping these two characters from the moment they spend time alone in the dungeon, right? wrong. like the unreasonable guy i am, i saw them both placed a certain way and my brain went "shipped." let me explain.

chapter 45. this is the first time they interact. i wasn't thinking much at this point, but i just wanted to point out this frame because it looks damn cool (and i wanna maybe trace it on paper)

chapter 54 mithrun notices kabru has skill for the first time. at this point i didn't think much more than "oh he's looking at him."

kabru notices mithrun (or maybe he's just shocked about the water; i decided nonetheless to add this.) not much to report yet either on my personal feelings at this point.

and then this happens. first off i was thinking about kabru saving others without thinking but that's another subject. then i saw mithrun was LEANING BACK on kabru whilst between his legs and the gentle way he held his wrist for support i was like huh??! am i supposed to be getting homoerotic subtext from this? i was... intrigued. a little ship bell went off in my head, but there was no ripeness to it yet. not ready to be plucked.

like look at this in closeup please

then can we get this whole ass frame. where we clearly see how close they are physically. from that point on i thought "lol if this goes on i might crackship them haha blush" i mean their body position makes them look like they could be on a casual date (hands on thighs hands on thighs hands-)

and then THIS pat pat head yes good boy smart boy i see how you have excellent perception skills, let us work together to fight this monster do what i say now also just situationally i was kinda awed because not a moment ago they were kinda distrustful on edge but here immediately mithrun makes a plan involving kabru (no, not the other elves, but kabru) to take down the monster together & puts trust in him & idk i think two characters fighting together always feels intimate to me in a way (not necessarily romantic or anything); like characters are familiar with each other

"pat"

chapter 55 nothing special but i like the way they look at each other here even if there is no romantic or erotic tension or anything. maybe i just like the art of this.

i mean i know they're on a pillar but look at how close they are

just look at the way mithrun is being held and tell me that if taken out of context these images don't scream homoeroticism. and yes, this is the moment i decided to ship them.

(again, taken out of context) mithrun looks like the husband silently threatening whoever kabru is arguing with

and now this. this. look at this beautiful piece of art. look at how falin holds sissel(thistle). there is tenderness in that grip; protection. then above them you see kabru's self-protection in holding mithrun hostage yet the picture as a whole immediately made me think of "the lovers" archetype. duality. being held. idk. but seeing this was powerful.

mithrun tries to free himself from kabru's grip, the way he is held is constricing. yet if you changed the way you look at it, it could be perceived as holding on to a lover for dear life as you both tumble to your death. is that what the mangaka intended?? i am not one to usually read much into symbolism or stuff if i'm just casually reading - and i certainly don't know anything about art or literary symbolism - but all these thoughts immediately sprung out to me. these panels made me feel something so intense. (exquisite art, really!!)

so this is how i started shipping kabumisu. once i got to chapter 61 and realised "oh DAMN they will actually be spending one-on-one time together?" i was pleasantly surprised and knew i would not be alone in shipping them.

that is all :3 thank you for reading if you got this far!

[eurydia]

Inferna Victoria (Portrait of the Archdevil and Archduchess Supreme of the Nine) a royal portrait of Raphael and Tav in the style of a Van Dyck for my fic, The Lover's Gambit. it's now my most popular fic, thank you so much for your support! you all have exquisite taste ❤️

Raphael's outfit was inspired by a beautiful gifset by @cherriesandsulphur

details, context below

[Solo Raph painting]

Baroque is one of my fave art movements. the in-game art looked inspired by it, and I wanted to do a piece that combined my love for it and royal portraiture. this was inspired by the works of Flemish Baroque master Anthony Van Dyck.

this is one of the most ambitious and detailed pieces I've done so far: the fullsize is 22 x 32in, and it took over 50+ hrs. royal portraiture usually has extensive detail, so I wanted to make it as detailed as possible. it was challenging and time consuming, but a lot of fun!

framed version (Cassetta frame from the Met website:)

process

spoiler details (for the game + fic)

- their ship came about because I wanted to give Raph a chaotic evil counterpart to his lawful evil. basically he’s the “mansplain, manipulate, malewife” to her “gaslight, (Baldur’s)gatekeep, girlboss” lol.

- I hc this Tav’s ending is the “In my name” one. though I hc she says “In our name” instead ;)

- visually, it looks like Raphael has more power but I hc it’s actually Tav for several reasons: many elements of the composition lead to her (Raph’s sash, arms, the curtains), she’s wearing her crown and is seated, and is also foremost while Raph is in the back.

- Raph’s crown is ceremonial/for vanity only while Tav’s tiara has enough fragments of the stone to be fully functional.

- The crown’s design is based on concept art, and if you look closely it kinda looks like it has hearts on the sides. I added the red gems.

I hc that Raph is a romantic and some of his lines seem to allude to this (code phrase of “my heart’s desire”, the Amulet of Greater Health, which Tav is wearing here, in a prominent place in his house, and his words to Hope in a transcript: “…serve me with your whole heart”)

- I hc they’re married at this point. Tav’s ring has two additional gems, and her outfit in general was inspired by the canon design of the Crown of Karsus.

- there’s a lot of red because according to Hope, Raph’s favorite color is “blood”. my hc for the painting overall is that it was done by his personal painter, maybe a debtor who has to paint for him for all eternity (not a bad deal right? /s) so it reflects his and Tav’s requests.

- I picture this hanging either above Raph’s fireplace in the dining room. or bedroom - much to Haarlep’s dismay 🤣

[fastcardotmp3]

thinkin bout jonathan byers who hates having his picture taken, who puts himself behind the lens because that's where he's most comfortable, who loves to frame up the world into little digestible images all perfectly balanced and composed and right in ways the real world isn't.

thinkin bout how he gets wound up and overwhelmed and needs an outlet, needs a way to make the big stuff smaller, needs an excuse to focus on the details and take his time through the developing process and slow down.

thinkin bout argyle seeing those pictures, the folders and binders of them that get printed and left around like they're not exquisite insights into how jonathan sees everything and everyone around him, as if argyle can't see the love the guy has for his people in candid snapshots from Will's most recent birthday party.

thinkin bout argyle seeing this, seeing jonathan by way of seeing through his eyes and, without hesitation, making a plan to fill in the glaring gaps in this photographic collection.

it's easy to steal jon's camera when he's high, floaty and relaxed for once in his too-tense life, but it's a little trickier to catch the guy on film without him going full deer in the headlights at his own reflection in the lens.

still though, argyle does it, because it feels like it matters, for jonathan to see himself the way he sees everyone else. with care taken and burned into film.

when argyle finally shows him the prints, it's like waiting for a diver to resurface from the water, with the knowledge that they'll make it back but the understanding that the in-between is a dangerous thing.

jonathan byers looks at these snapshots of himself, sees himself in a brand new light, and maybe argyle got a little too personal with it, maybe jonathan can see him in return for how he's framed this man in argyle's own vision.

but hey, it earns him a heart-stopping hell of a first kiss, so he probably did something right.

[yoonavii]

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓

Rich bachelor! Law x Reader

Description: On your courthouse wedding day, hope and determination fueled you, but your fiancé's absence and the revelation of a secret girlfriend shattered your dreams. In that moment of heartbreak, Trafalgar Law, an eligible and wealthy bachelor driven by the need for his family's inheritance, appeared. He offered a life-altering proposition: marry him in exchange for financial security. You immediately accepted without hesitation, unaware of the thrilling twists and turns awaiting you on the unexpected love journey.

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄

The city of Sabaody appeared almost surreal under the persistent downpour, the streets glistening with rainwater and neon lights reflecting off the wet pavement. You hastily exited a yellow taxi, its tires sending up a spray of water as it sped away. Clutching your umbrella, you dashed up the stone steps, the raindrops patterning a rhythmic tune on its canopy. Inside the courthouse, the atmosphere was a stark contrast to the bustling, rain-soaked streets. The corridors were lined with heavy wooden doors leading to various courtrooms, their dark oak contrasting with the white marble floors. The scent of rain-soaked coats hung in the air, and the soft murmur of conversations between lawyers and clients filled your ears.

Finally, you reached the designated courtroom, your heart pounding as you pushed open the imposing wooden door. The judge, an imposing figure in a black robe, peered over the rim of his glasses. He tapped his watch with a measured impatience, the seconds ticking away audibly in the otherwise silent room. With a flush of embarrassment, you offered a hurried apology, the words echoing in the hushed space. The judge leaned forward, his voice carrying the weight of authority as he remarked, “You’re ten minutes late.”

Your gaze swept over the room, noticing the familiar faces of friends and family who had gathered for this momentous occasion. Panic surged as you realized your fiancé was conspicuously absent. The judge’s stern tone deepened your anxiety as he asked, “Where is your fiancé?” Desperation took hold, and you retrieved your phone from your pocket, trembling fingers fumbling as you dialed your fiancé’s number. Each ring felt like an eternity, and your hope dwindled with every unanswered call. Finally, it diverted to voicemail, and you excused yourself from the courtroom, stepping into the hallway. The fluorescent lights above flickered slightly, casting an eerie glow on the gray walls. As you tried your fiancé’s number once more, your heart raced. Outside, the relentless rain painted a picture of uncertainty, mirroring the doubt and concern swirling through your thoughts.

As you continued to redial your fiancé's number, minutes stretched into half an hour, and the stress began to gnaw at you like a relentless itch. Frustration and worry etched lines across your forehead. You kept glancing at your phone, hoping for any sign of life from your missing partner. Unable to quell your anxiety, you allowed your gaze to wander, and it landed on an open courtroom adjacent to yours. A courtroom wedding was in progress, and the atmosphere inside was surprisingly festive. The bride and groom, dressed in exquisite attire, exchanged vows with radiant smiles.What struck you as odd was the extravagance of the guests' attire. They sported both recognizable luxury brands and some that seemed to be known only to a select few. It was a stark contrast to your own choice of a simple courthouse wedding.

Your attention was briefly diverted when a slim, tall man around your age exited the room. He exuded an air of sophistication and confidence. His golden eyes hinted at a hidden depth, and his chiseled face framed by slicked-back black hair added to his allure. He was dressed in a minimal yet elegant all-black ensemble, oozing a kind of charm that was hard to ignore.

For a moment, you found yourself admiring his appearance, but then a wave of guilt washed over you. You had no business checking out other men when you were supposed to be getting married today. Your gaze returned to your phone screen, desperately waiting for your fiancé to pick up, your heart heavy with worry and doubt. As you waited anxiously, a voice from inside the courtroom called out, “Law.” It was the groom, and you mentally noted the name of the handsome man as Law. You watched as Law turned to the groom, annoyance flickering in his golden eyes. He whispered something to the groom, who appeared chastened and immediately apologized, bowing in deference.

Your curiosity piqued, but before you could dwell on this interaction, your phone finally came to life. Relief washed over you as you asked your fiancé if he was okay, explaining your concern for his unresponsiveness earlier. However, instead of your fiancé’s voice, a woman answered the call, and your heart sank. As the woman’s words cut through the air like daggers, you found your voice despite the turmoil inside you. Anger and disbelief fueled your response, and your tone was sharp as you retorted, “What are you talking about? This can’t be true!” The woman on the other end of the line, her voice dripping with condescension, replied, “Oh, sweetheart, it’s as true as the sky is blue. Your so-called fiancé has been seeing me for months behind your back. He’s been spending money meant for your shared expenses on me.”

Your mind reeled, and you clenched your fists, desperately trying to process this shocking revelation. In a mix of anger and heartbreak, you shot back, “How could he do this? We were getting married today! Who are you, anyway?” She laughed again, that same cruel laughter that grated on your nerves. “I’m the one who’s been keeping him entertained, while you were here planning your wedding like a fool. I’m the one he’s chosen over you, darling.” Tears welled up in your eyes, and you couldn’t help but feel a sense of humiliation and betrayal. “You… You’re destroying my life!” you exclaimed, your voice quivering with emotion. She remained unapologetic, her voice cold and dismissive. “I’m just telling you the truth. He never loved you, sweetie. You’re better off without him.” You demanded, in a trembling voice, that he pick up the phone and confirm the terrible truth himself. After what felt like an eternity, he finally picked up the call. Your voice was seething with anger as you confronted him.

With the phone pressed to your ear, you could feel your anger rising like a tempest. "Is it true?" you demanded, your voice trembling with a mix of hurt and fury. "Tell me you didn't do what she said." A heavy sigh on the other end was followed by a heartless admission, "yeah, it's true. I haven't loved you for a long time. I've been using you, living off your money while saving everything for my new girlfriend and our new life." Each word cut deeper, igniting a burning rage within you. "You heartless, selfish... Do you even understand how much I've struggled because of you?!" Your voice quivered with a blend of sorrow and anger. "I gave you chance after chance to change, to be a better person, and this is how you repay me? I regret every moment I ever spent loving you or feeling pity for you!"

The line went silent for a moment as your fiancé absorbed the force of your words. Finally, he responded, "Well, I don't need your pity or your love anymore—“

With those words, you reached a breaking point. The torrent of emotions, the years of suffering and betrayal, all culminated in a moment of sheer frustration. Without thinking, you slammed your phone onto the ground, the sound of it shattering echoing through the hallway. Your heartache was now accompanied by the pain of a destroyed device, symbolizing the wreckage of the life you had built together.  As you sat there in the dimly lit courthouse hallway, shattered phone in hand, your focus consumed by the turmoil of your own life falling apart, you were unaware that Law had been observing your situation with keen interest.

Just as Law opened his mouth to perhaps offer some comment or consolation, his own phone rang. He glanced at the caller ID and picked it up, his expression quickly shifting from curiosity to irritation. It was his father's financial advisor on the line, and they delved into a discussion about his father's will. Law's brows furrowed deeply as he listened, and he finally interrupted, frustration evident in his voice. "Why are you discussing this with me when my father is still alive? Is something wrong?" The financial advisor explained matter-of-factly, "Your father instructed me to discuss the beneficiaries with you in case anything were to happen to him. It's a precautionary measure, nothing more."

Law's irritation lingered, but he couldn't deny the weight of the conversation. As he concluded his call, his thoughts seemed to drift back to you, sitting there with your world shattered, much like his own feelings of betrayal and uncertainty about the future. As the conversation with his father's financial advisor continued, Law's irritation gave way to bewilderment. The advisor disclosed a surprising update to his father's will, something that caught Law completely off guard. His voice filled with curiosity and disbelief, Law questioned, "What is it? What did my father do?" The advisor hesitated for a moment before delivering the unexpected revelation. "Your father updated his will recently. In it, there's a condition for you to inherit his wealth and properties. You won't gain access to your inheritance unless you're married for more than a year."

Law was struck speechless by this revelation. His father's desire for a daughter-in-law and the prospect of a grandchild had always been a topic of discussion, but he never imagined his father would take it to this extreme. Law sat in stunned silence as the weight of his father’s unconventional condition settled upon him. He never thought his father’s desire for a daughter-in-law and grandchild would manifest in such a peculiar way. The advisor’s voice brought him back to the conversation, “Your father made this decision to ensure the continuation of the family legacy. It seems he was quite adamant about it.” Law could hardly believe it. It was as if his father was orchestrating his life from beyond the grave. A mixture of frustration and resignation washed over him. “Is there anything else in the will I should know about?”

The advisor assured him that he had covered the essential points, but Law couldn’t help but contemplate the unexpected turn of events. His father’s plan seemed to be unfolding like a complex chess game, and Law was left to grapple with the implications, all while sitting in the courthouse hallway where your own life had taken a dramatic, painful turn.

Law's gaze lingered on you for a moment, and when your eyes briefly met, a fleeting connection sparked between you. However, you quickly looked away, wiping away the tears that had been streaming down your cheeks as you listened to your own life unravel over the phone. In the midst of his own turmoil, Law's determination grew stronger. He couldn't let this opportunity to secure his inheritance slip through his fingers, regardless of the price it might entail. He leaned closer to the phone and instructed the advisor, "Tell my father that I've met someone and that we were planning to get married at the courthouse."

Unbeknownst to him, your ears perked up at his words, and your heart raced. Normally, you didn't jump to conclusions, but the timing and context of his statement left little room for doubt. A sense of disbelief and curiosity washed over you, as you wondered if his words could somehow be connected to the dramatic events unfolding in your own life. Law's confident gaze locked onto you as he interrupted your thoughts, revealing that he had been listening to your conversation with your now ex-fiancé.

The shock of the situation left you momentarily speechless. With a calm yet determined tone, Law explained his unexpected proposition. "You're not getting married to him," he stated matter-of-factly. "I need a wife, and I can assure you that you'll be well taken care of, both physically and, most importantly, financially. You won't struggle ever again." The words hung in the air, and for a moment, you couldn't believe what you were hearing. It was as if you had stepped into the pages of a romance novel, and this modern prince was offering you a castle and a princess title. You pondered on it briefly, the weight of the decision heavy in the air. Then, with newfound determination, you met Law's gaze and agreed, "Alright, I'm in. Let's do this." It wasn't every day that life presented such a surreal opportunity, and you were willing to take the leap into this unexpected twist of fate.

©𝐘𝐎𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐈— Any sign/evidence of plagiarism made from outside this name will be dealt with by whatever means necessary. Legal action may occur if non fanfiction works are plagiarized.

[sapphire-writes]

Mine to Lose

pairing: Daemon Targaryen x Targaryen!Reader

warnings: language, sensual themes, I imagine the reader as a sibling to Rhaenys (so cousins with Daemon).

summary: Your return to the capital reignites the flame between you and Daemon.

note: a little Daemon drabble I’ve been playing around with!

word count: 1.2k

masterlist

It had been several years since you had been in the capital. But after much consideration, your husband had allowed you to stay with him at court. 

Venturing down the halls you stopped outside the doors to the throne room. You could hear the soft sounds of High Valyrian being spoken inside. The doors were slightly ajar, and you peered through the opening. 

Daemon and Rhaenyra were lost in conversation; Daemon observed his niece with a hungry expression on his face. You felt your breath catch in your throat. You had not seen Daemon in years as well. 

“Cousin,” you call as you enter the throne room, throwing open the doors, and causing the pair to leap away from each other. You force a smile on your face. 

“Rhaenyra,” you say, sweetly, as Rhaenyra scurries over to you. Her face is flushed, cheeks rosy. A necklace adorns her neck, Valyrian steel catching the light.

“Sodjisto,” she croons, as her small frame reaches you. You engulf her in a hug, stroking her silver hair, your eyes locked on Daemon. You’ve always been more of an aunt to Rhaenyra than a cousin. 

He is standing tall, hands crossed in front of him, a smirk playing on his lips. 

“Dakogon, byka zaldrīzes. īlon ūndegon bē tolī,” you tell Rhaenyra, stroking her cheek. 

Run, little dragon. We catch up later.

Rhaenyra gives her uncle one last longing look, before squeezing your hand and leaving the throne room. 

The silence she leaves in her wake is palpable between you and the Rogue Prince. 

“It has been too long,” Daemon says, breaking the silence. His smile is predatory as he crosses his hands behind his back, his broad chest on display. 

“Rhaenyra is just a child,” you scold, cutting to the chase. You saw the way he looked at her. 

Daemon moves towards you, his strides are long, his face the picture of ease. He is circling you, as a dragon in the skies would its prey. 

“I have missed you.”

The words are salt in an open wound that never healed, despite your time apart. 

“You have a funny way of showing it,” you tell him. 

“I am surprised he does not keep you locked up at Casterly Rock.”

You understand which he Daemon refers to. The man you had been married off to at first chance; your father’s hope that the match would keep you far away from Daemon.

In truth, you had been a prisoner at Casterly Rock for the beginning of your marriage. You found the stony fortress depressing, with little to occupy yourself. 

It appeared that both of you had been carted away to opposite sides of the realm. 

“My lord husband is a member of the small council, his place is at court, as is mine. Aemma enjoys my company.”

“Does your husband?” he asks, a smirk ever present on his face. 

You clasp your hands in front of you, lacing your fingers together, fiddling with the rings that adorn your fingers. 

“My husband prefers the company of common whores to that of a princess. It seems I have a taste for men of that nature,” you tell him, bitterness evident in your tone. Though you did not care for your husband, there was a shame that came with knowing you did not fulfill your duties as a wife. 

Daemon cocks his head to the side, taking in your words, realizing the implication.  

“I never put any whore above you.”

You meet his gaze. Daemon’s lower lip protrudes in a pout, his brow furrowed. As he looks upon you he cannot imagine the stupidity of your Lannister husband. You are an exquisite creature in Daemon’s eyes. 

“You may choose to believe what you wish,” you quip.

Daemon clicks his tongue before it finds purchase between his teeth. 

“Let us retire to your chambers, my head between your legs will quickly silence that sharp tongue of yours.”

You stare each other down for a moment, the side of your mouth tugging upwards slightly.

“How is your wife? I hear you have not been to the Eyrie in many moons,” you throw the accusation like a knife. 

If Daemon is right about one thing, it is your sharp tongue, your wit. 

“I came to court to have the marriage annulled,” Daemon tells you, causing you to scoff. 

“I suppose Viserys told you off.”

A beat. 

“He did.”

You lace your fingers behind your back and begin walking away from him. You look at the Iron Throne and feel Daemon’s gaze burning a hole in the back of your skull. 

“Marriage is simply a political agreement. Why not put a child in her and be done with it?”

“I do not see you with a child, married nearly a year. What do the maesters say to that?”

Though you still face away from him, a smile curls on your lips.

“That fire licks the walls of my womb. Inhabitable for a lion cub.”

You can feel his presence behind you, his breath on the back of your neck. Daemon has always had the ability to slowly creep up on you. A terrifying thought to some, but not you. 

“But not a dragon.”

You turn to face him. Daemon’s eyes search your face, as though memorizing every feature.

“Stop that.”

“Do not deny it.”

“Viserys is already distraught at your return to court, and now you seek to provoke him further?” you question, raising a brow at the Targaryen prince, “What is your business with Rhaenyra?”

“I only wish to adore my dear niece.”

This earns a scoffing noise from you, along with a glare.

“You said similar things to me once.”

Daemon’s smile widens. 

“And I adored you, didn’t I?”

You can feel the blush creeping up your cheeks but you refuse to give him the satisfaction of looking away. 

“She is just a child.”

“Rhaenyra will not be a child forever.”

“And then? You are a married man Daemon.”

Daemon sighs deeply.

“Did anyone question the Conqueror when he took two wives?” Daemon asks, bringing a hand to stroke your cheek. His fingers leave a trail of fire atop your skin in their wake.

“Did they question Maegor with his?” he continues, eyes dropping to your lips as they wet them.

“No, they nearly tore the realm apart instead,” you told him, “you never listened during our lessons, did you?”

Daemon drops his hand from your face, the loss of contact chilling. 

“Hard to hear the maester with your thighs around my head,” he remarked.

You stick your chin up at him, cheeks hot.

“That never happened,” you tell him, as he chuckles. 

“Perhaps I am misremembering,” he concludes. 

The tension between you is thick, it clings to the walls of the throne room like fog. 

“It is my understanding you shall be participating in today’s tourney?” you ask to clear the air. You are both in the capital now, plenty of time to continue arguing. 

“Does that worry you?” Daemon asks. You shake your head. 

“You are a skilled fighter,” you compliment. Daemon looks you over. 

“Shall I have your favor?” he murmurs, taking a step closer. You tilt your chin to look up at him. 

“Should you ask,” you answer, a soft smile on your face before he covers your mouth with his, fingers fisting in your hair, pulling your body flush against him.

taglist: @tempt-ress

note: if you would like to be added to my taglist, just let me know!

[l-in-the-light]

The most embarrassing series of posts about Lawlu you will ever read: edition Whole Cake Island (part 12)

Lawlu in Whole Cake Island? There is none! Actually... do we really need Law to be present to analyze it, come to think of it? Luffy is really all we need; to watch his behaviour, things he says, his determination, to guess how Law's influence would show and how partying ways with him (even if temporarily) would impact Luffy.

This is the Alice in Wonderland Arc of One Piece, which means Luffy's main struggle will be to face himself, his own weakness, fears, and maybe even his own self-hatred. Which is why this time it won't be the usual scrutinizing analysis of frame by frame, but instead I will take a deep-dive into Luffy's mind. Are you ready? :D

Luffy starts Whole Cake Island arc in a rush. Because why wouldn't he feel in a rush? There's a wedding to stop! There's a chance they won't make it in time, after all. But... seeing how Zou ended, there's probably one more reason why Luffy is so irritated and wants to get things done as fast as possible... there will be someone waiting for him in Wano, alongside the rest of Luffy's own crew. Luffy could tolerate being seperated from his own crew for two years, but this two weeks trip to Whole Cake Island seems like a torture to him. What changed exactly between timeskip and now? Oh, right, Law got added into the picture ;)

"See? She didn't have any problem with my yeeting!" and I wish he could add "Law also had no trouble after I yeeted us in Dressrosa, you should be more hardboiled like him!", because I swear, this feels like the thing he actually means. And he is right, Law hated being yeeted, but he dealed with it just fine in the end, keeping his clear mind and sense of direction intact.

And then, out of nowhere, Luffy gains an interest in cooking. Luffy, of all people! The very same Luffy who thought a musician is more essential on the crew than a cook!

He even compares Nami's nutritional knowledge to a doctor instead of a cook. For Luffy, a cook is just someone who makes your food look and taste extra great, but it's not neccessary for a kid who grew up in a jungle eating everything the way it comes or simply by roasting it over a fire. So why is he suddenly so interested in cooking?? Is he missing Sanji that much? Is he trying to make his crew miss Sanji so the reunion is more emotional? Good guesses, but they have one flaw: they don't take Luffy's personality enough into account.

Back in East Blue, Luffy agreed to recruit a cook before a musician only because his crew wanted one and also because he's a freaking glutton.

"You guys are really rude, I made this food for you!" now that doesn't fit with Luffy's personality of "I want to eat all the meat". Suddenly, it's for them, hm?

Then he tries his own "kitchen sink curry", spits it out, shouts that's it's inedible and flips the table! Why so mad? Oh yeah, because as we learn soon after, he tried cooking multiple times and it's still something that can't be eaten. He tried so many times that he wasted a stock of food they had that was supposed to last them for a week, for all of them! And it's all gone in one day.

Luffy's frustration is understandable then, because this is what he considers to be "his best attempt". As we learn from SBS, Luffy's best dish is just a bowl of meat (in other words: pieces of meat put in a bowl lol), which means he would not prepare "curry" or any sort of exquisite dish for himself. He indeed did this dish with others in mind. He would be more likely to just roast whatever he caught and shove it towards them, asking "you want some?", if it was only about him.

Despite his constant failures, he's still not getting discouraged and wants to learn how to cook edible things for people to enjoy. Nami though stops him and tells him "to never go into the kitchen again", ouch. They have been starving for days as the result of Luffy's "cooking attempts" and Luffy almost lost his life as the result (eating poisonous skin of a fish they finally caught), so her reaction is understandable. But this should make us realize that Luffy, thanks to this whole (mis)adventure, understands Sanji better without even realizing it. After all, Sanji was also told to "never cook again" by his father.

But I think this adventure has one more meaning. Whole Cake Island is basically a tale about the good and bad sides of food industry, but also how food creates connections between people. And I think XxXholic covered the latter part better than I could ever put in words, so forgive me for the unexpected crossover here. You don't need to know XxXholic, its plot or characters to be able to follow the quotes, they also don't spoil anything from the plot, so don't worry. We're just following one of the many, many side characters there.

First of all, if you want to repay a debt or show your gratitude, the best way is to offer food and good drink. And the best way to do it, is to offer stuff you cooked yourself, because they require your own time and effort, and include your feelings (of gratitude and love) for the person you cooked it for. If someone does you a favour, it's a good idea to say "thanks" by preparing a dish they like, for example.

"I would like to cook with you and then eat it together. And then I would really like to know more about you. And for you to learn about me, as well" says the protagonist to one of his clients. Cooking together is a big thing because it creates an equal, mutual bond: you get to know me, I get to know you, and we can both try to become better at cooking together, but also better people for each other as well. Because by cooking we learn more about what the other person likes and dislikes, but also about their personality: their usual way of problem solving, about their patience, flexibility, stubborness, ability to learn etc. Your prefered way of cooking can also reflect your personality this way and you try to offer your best through a dish you put a lot of effort to make, for someone to enjoy.

You can learn a lot about yourself as well through cooking. If you compare your own cooking to someone else's, you can realize your own personality traits you wished you would have never noticed (for example impatience, like Luffy flipping the table in anger: even Nami called him out on it, Sanji would not approve of that action!). You might also realize that someone preparing food for you did it with lots of feelings, of kindness and love, and that's why that food tastes good. And if in comparison your own food is terrible, bland, without flavour or personality, it just shows you don't really share your own love with the world through the act of cooking. In Luffy's case up there, his food was so terrible (though definitely full of his personality lol) despite him putting in his best effort and feelings. How did it make him feel about himself? Perhaps like he has nothing good to offer to people he loves? But his final reaction is always this: try to be better and do better!

Luffy offering his failed attempts to his crew serves the same purpose: he's offering them what he has, even if the result is disgusting. But this is the kind of person Luffy is at the moment and he has nothing better to offer!

The sidestory in XxXholic has a happy ending, the struggle continues on and the woman's significant other supports her efforts and says they will wait for as long as it takes. Now, what does that have to do with One Piece? The reason this woman couldn't cook something that would taste good wasn't because she's clumsy, or didn't put any effort in or lacked knowledge (she actually studied cooking like it's an university subject, it clearly mattered a lot to her!).

What she lacked in the end was love, not for others, but for herself. She hated herself so much that she believed anything she would do would turn out bad (which is exactly what happened over and over), almost like she was subconsciously self-sabotaging her own efforts. And since she didn't have love for herself she had nothing to give to others either, despite caring for them and being so grateful to people who loved her the way she is, imperfect, disbelieving in her own worth, broken. She just didn't feel like she has anything to offer to all the great people around her.

Sounds familiar?

"What can you do?" Arlong asks Luffy. "You can't do anything, you're a disgrace as a captain". And Luffy proceeds to say he has great people who support him (which means he does not think of himself as great, he knows he lacks in so many ways), but there is one, just one thing he can do for them back: it's to beat up people like Arlong.

And yet despite that, in Whole Cake Island, Luffy attempts to do what he literally can't do: to cook. He knows he can't do it, but he tries it anyway, knowing very well what the end result will be. It's not that he lost his mind. We mustn't forget why he's doing a stealthy mission on WCI. It's exactly because he can't do what he usually does: beat up Big Mom. He promised he won't do it. But what *can* he do then? It's his struggle to become better and get out of his comfort zone, and he starts that from attempting cooking. It won't be the first or last time that he will fight against himself in this arc, even denying things he had the most confidence in. This is the arc in which Luffy loses the sight of what he can and can't do, and needs to come up with a new answer or rediscover the one he already had all along. This is Luffy in a crisis.

Now is that related to Luffy being seperated from Law and dealing badly with it? Or Luffy realizing how much he knows Law has faith in him and he wants to live up to it? Because like we established before, Luffy is doing this stealthy attempt only for the sake of his alliance with Law, he would not bother usually and would just destroy Big Mom because she's in his way. I can only imagine Luffy's inner struggle when he tries to come up with a new solution here but can't get any, nothing works out if he just can't beat up the bad guy and move on. Luffy's later refusal to eat anything that isn't Sanji's cooking, not even the syrup rain, must reflect how Luffy feels about himself in this moment: he feels pathetic and useless and he must hate himself for it.

There's one more angle to it. Luffy suspiciously wants to cook as fast as they're seperated from Law. He thinks nutritional knowledge is something a doctor does and he's impressed with it. Law is a doctor. It's not a stretch to think that Luffy wants to learn something new to impress his favourite person upon return. It's highly likely he wants to cook for Law as well (and he's using his crew for taste-testing for now), because he has feelings of love and gratitude he wants to convey to him, but he doesn't know how to do it. But Luffy always had Sanji who used his cooking exactly for that: to show his feelings of love for people (and was very vocal about it!). Luffy is just trying to do the same, but he realized he can't do it no matter what. By the end of the arc he comes back to terms with himself and finds the old truth again: he will leave the cooking to Sanji and rely on his crew. He can try to be a better person in other ways, but he will keep on searching for a way to show love and gratitude to them.

And we will not talk about Luffy suddenly remembering people smooch each other and talking about it in context of Sanji's wedding, uhum. If that's on his mind all of a sudden when it wasn't even once for last 80 volumes, then you can guess why it suddenly would be. People who love and care for each other smooch, so maybe he was considering... things...

Another odd thing Luffy does, which is to check on the map and comments, frowning "it's weird". He has a point, because we learn later it was a deliberate trap. But he's paying attention here because he tries to be useful and does things he usually wouldn't be doing. Just like with cooking.

Same here. It's probably the first moment in which Luffy realizes that having a longterm plan would be actually a good thing. Yeah, Luffy of all people. That's because he must be thinking "if it was Law, he would definitely have one". I feel like other people were pointing it out to Luffy before, but it's the first time he actually shows that he kinda cares and isn't answering with "I'm just here for the adventure. And become a king of the pirates, no plans included!".

Look here. This is Luffy in a crisis. "I have to get back and I'll destroy everything in my way if I have to!" Not only he's not supposed to destroy everything or beat up Big Mom, which he points out a moment later, but Luffy is clear here, he made his decision: if he can't go back, he will simply get rid of everything on his way. Getting back is the most important thing, everything else be damned.

Except... are we really talking about Sanji here? Get back where, Luffy? To Wano perhaps, where your crew and Law will be waiting?

"I'm not going to die in a place like this!!", "I made him a promise, but it's not here!!". I'm just saying, this applies both to Sanji and the promise Luffy made "to meet up in Wano". And if he wants to get back no matter what, it's because he knows he can't die here, he can't force a certain someone to go through a big loss again. He would rather tear off his arms than not return at all and break his promise.

And we get Sanji with his "I didn't tell you to wait..." and Luffy just laughs in reply. This particular laugh he used only once before, btw, and I don't recall anywhere else:

When he was telling Zoro how much he's worrying about Sanji. Because why wouldn't Luffy know that Zoro and Sanji are the most important people for each other? Zoro is his best friend and his first crewmate, Luffy just knows what's in his heart, the same way that Zoro probably knows who is so important for Luffy as well.

Do you still think Luffy-Sanji scene was *only* about Luffy and Sanji? That the whole promise talk was only about Sanji? And not two particular people waiting for both of them in Wano? It was always about both reasons.

Luffy says he can't be the king of the pirates without Sanji. And demands that Sanji says how he really feels (which is "to go back on Sunny" ❤). Imagine if Luffy said both of those lines to Usopp in Water 7. Maybe a lot of the conflict could have been avoided. Especially if Luffy would also follow his very own advice, because he was not saying his true feelings in the quarrel with Usopp. What changed since Water 7 in Luffy? A lot, actually. Ace, timeskip, Dressrosa, Law... All those things are huge milestones in Luffy's development. But there's also the promise he made. He promised Zoro his crew to bring Sanji back. And that promise also changed everything.

WCI is also the first arc in which Luffy says he is ready to drop everything, even his own dream, and go save whoever needs to be saved for his crew's sake. It's very ironic how in this scene he also needs to struggle against himself, this time with his enormous hunger, that seems to sabotage his ironclad determination. For once Luffy doesn't do things for food and that despite the whole arc being exactly about food. That's how serious he is.

Now we have to talk about the alliance with Bege. Here is Luffy's initial reaction: "what an awful person", "Bege is gonna get it!". He does not like Bege at all, he also wants to punch him for what Bege did to Pekoms. In other words, Luffy doesn't think Bege is a good person, at all.

But just a moment later, when Jimbei tells him "you should work together with Bege", Luffy changes his mind immediately. He's all up for this alliance. His crew, that has been with Luffy the longest (Nami and Sanji) can't believe their ears. What an interesting change, isn't it? Like I argued at the beginning of this post, Luffy has to do things differently this time instead of doing what he usually does. The problem is, he's not good at anything else than "beating the main bad guy". That's why in this case he's determined to do something he would usually never do. And forgive me for the callback again to XxXholic, because I can't resist:

Luffy has the same idea as the protagonist here. "This is all I can do", and "if this person was with me, they would be able to find a better way". In other words, Luffy agreed to this alliance because he thinks this is something Law would do as well. Luffy is constantly wondering in Whole Cake Island how Law would handle the situation and he knows he can't come even close to his level, but at least he will try to follow in his footsteps.

Of course Luffy wants at first to punch Bege for Pekoms. He's still trying to make this alliance a friendship, and if he hits Bege then they will be even, so they can try becoming friends. That's basically the idea.

But he doesn't get to do that and in the end, Luffy agrees to alliance based on "common goal" or "allignment of interest". He did not become friends with Bege in the process and didn't make things even between them. This proves Luffy knows what an alliance is and it's not friendship. I wouldn't say this means Luffy finally learned what an actual alliance is (though it's tempting, ngl). I would rather say he always knew that, but he chose to make it a point that whatever he has with Law, is friendship firstmost, alliance second.

And here is Luffy listening to Bege's plan. He's trying, okay. Not his fault he's constantly getting distracted, sidetracked and overfocused on making a silly entrance party trick (jumping out of the wedding cake). Bege is just not Law, and Luffy's tiktok's level span of attention is struggling here, heh. Also please notice Luffy's unusual focus on the smooching lol.

Oh, so that's Luffy's idea for the wedding surprise. He just wanted to do ninja's shadow clonining trick, definitely inspired by Raizou's show in Zou.

Coincidentally, that's the technique that was Law's request and made Law so damn impressed. Yeah, this is for sure a coincidence, that Luffy chose to do it like that, even though he didn't really have to have multiple copies of himself here to make it work. I bet he just thought "if Law would be here, that would impress him, I'm sure!" and I bet he's looking forward to telling him all about this adventure later on and seeing his face.

But it was essenstial for his plan to create chaos! He didn't do it just for fun! Are you sure? Because it was Brook who hid himself in the midst and did the deed with Mother Carmel's photo frame, and Luffy did not tell him to do this. Luffy simply wanted to be cool, okay, he didn't think that far ahead. He was supposed to cause chaos, he delivered.

And in his fight with Katakuri, Luffy is the one who has to have faith. Law had his faith moment in Dressrosa, now it's Luffy's turn.

Luffy found his answer about what he can do and how to become a better person for someone. It's to master his observation haki. Which, coincidentally, is Law's forte.

Luffy's curious, very strict words to Jimbei. "Don't let even death stop you, we'll be waiting in Wano!" It's basically Luffy's own promise he made before leaving Zou, just said in more deadly serious manner. That's because his experience in Whole Cake Island made him realize it himself: he will go back to Wano and not even death can stop him from achieving that. Because he promised that to Law people.

I'm sure for Law this would be indeed the most important thing, not to lose anyone ever again, especially Luffy who he (miraculously) managed to save all the way back in Marineford. I don't know how Luffy knows this or if he knows at all about Law's deepest fear, but he's determined not to die on him, that's for sure.

This is also the first big seperation for Luffy and Law. Luffy deals with it, treating everything like an adventure to tell Law later so it feels like Law is there with him even though he's not. But also treats it like a challenge, to become a better and stronger person so he won't disappoint him.

Still convinced there was no Lawlu in WCI? Oh well, if that's the case then all I can say is: I tried my best :D

If anyone wants to read all the parts of this series without going to my masterpost, then just click "love is a hurricane" tag :3

[pin-k-ink]

matters of the heart // ukitake jushiro & kyoraku shunsui (pt. 3)

tw ⇢ highly suggestive content, threesome, implied sexual content but no explicit descriptions, unrequited love (kinda), some ukitake x kyoraku if you squint, bittersweet ending

wc ⇢ 2.5k

part one | part two | part three

The afternoon sun bathed the grounds of the First Division in a warm glow as you exited the meeting hall alongside Ukitake and Kyōraku. A light breeze carried the sweet scent of plum blossoms as the three of you meandered down the path together, no particular destination in mind.

"What a snoozefest," Kyōraku sighed dramatically, fanning himself. "I could barely stay awake through those dreadful inventory reports."

You chuckled at his antics. "As if you don't catch up on your napping during every dull meeting, you old lush."

"A fair accusation," he admitted with a roguish grin. "Though these days I do try to maintain some semblance of decorum befitting my elder statesman status."

Ukitake scoffed lightly at that. "Since when have propriety and discretion meant anything to you, Kyoraku?"

"Why Ukitake!" Kyōraku gasped in mock offense. "I'll have you know I am the very picture of distinguished refinement nowadays."

You couldn't stifle your bright peal of laughter, earning a wolfish wink from the older captain. Even Ukitake chuckled richly, unconsciously drifting a bit closer as you walked.

"If by 'distinguished refinement' you mean 'unrepentant laziness and wanton behavior,' then I wholeheartedly agree."

The familiar banter flowed easily as you strolled alongside the two captains, occasionally brushing arms in a way that sent little frissons dancing across your skin. The casual camaraderie was comfortingly familiar after centuries of closeness.

Yet you were exquisitely attuned to the undercurrents simmering just beneath - how Ukitake's gaze would linger heatedly whenever you met his vivid jade stare, or how Kyōraku's eyes seemed to smolder over any exposed sliver of skin as you moved.

The atmosphere thrummed with restrained tension, like the slightest misstep or lingering pause could upend everything into scorching intimacy once more. Still, you felt an odd tranquility simply basking in their presence, understanding you three teetered on the precipice of profound intimacies.

For the first time, you didn't ignore that inexorable yearning. When Ukitake's knuckles brushed yours, you didn't flinch away from the shiver it sparked. And when Kyōraku's voice took on that low, suggestive rasp, you held his stare boldly rather than deflecting.

The heated undercurrents soon shed any pretense at casual innocence. Until finally, Ukitake cleared his throat meaningfully, halting in the secluded garden as his voice took on a lower timbre.

"I don't think we're feeling inclined towards polite conversation this evening, are we?" He let the weighted words linger, gaze flicking between you and Kyōraku laden with suggestion.

Kyōraku absorbed the intimation, expression sobering briefly before that wolfish grin curved his lips. He shifted nearer to you. "No...I don't suppose we are."

The heated tension was palpable as the three of you made your way to your quarters, the closest destination. A charged silence blanketed your footsteps, the anticipation thick enough to taste on the back of your tongue.

No sooner had the door slid shut behind you than Ukitake was pressed flush against your back, calloused palms skimming over the curve of your hips as he pinned you deliciously between his solid frame and Kyōraku's prowling advance. The older captain stalked forward until you were caged between them, russet eyes blazing with undisguised hunger as he cupped your jaw to angle your mouth up for a searing, openmouthed kiss.

You melted into the ferocious clash of lips and questing tongues, a low keen spilling free when Ukitake's teeth grazed the sensitive juncture of your neck and shoulder. His large hands drifted higher to knead at the swell of your breasts in firm squeezes through the layers of fabric in tandem with each slick glide of Kyōraku's mouth claiming you.

The two captains moved in an intoxicating synchronicity rutting you between their scorching hardnesses. Dexterous fingers made short work of your uniform in a flurry of shuddery exhales and rustling fabric until you were bared before their ravenous gazes. Dusky nipples pebbled in the cooler air, only to be instantly soothed by the twin brands of Kyōraku's palm cradling one tingling curve as Ukitake's mouth blazed a molten path over the other with merciless suction.

You cried out inarticulately at the intense duality of sensation, hips bucking shamelessly to grind back against the rigid line of Ukitake's impressive cock confined in his hakama. Kyōraku rumbled out a sound of approval deep in his chest, withdrawing just enough to latch hungrily onto the exposed column of your throat as you arched into his attentions with a keening whimper of need.

Finally, their heated onslaught culminated with you being lowered onto the rumpled bedding in an elegant tangle of limbs and scorching caresses. Searing kisses and urgent explorations stretched in an endless, simmering feedback loop of rapture cresting higher with each ragged inhale. Until all that existed in the universe was the exquisite coalescence of your existences transcending into sublime singularity in that suspended infinity.

In the aftermath, you luxuriated amidst the ruin of tumbled bedding and disheveled bodies strewn about in sacred indolence. A fine sheen of perspiration still gilded your heated flesh, thrumming with echoes of transcendence only just surrendered.

Kyōraku let out a bone-deep groan of repletion, idly tracing patterns into the sweeping curve of your ribcage where you were nestled between his larger frame and Ukitake's slighter form curled in studious appreciation against you. The pale-haired captain simply hummed out a soft, contented noise, pressing a deliberate graze of velvet lips against the crown of your head as his callused palm wandered lower to settle possessively over your abdomen.

All around you, the air hung thick and muggy with the lingering scent of sex - ribbons of intermingled spiritual pressure and heady arousal still clinging in the atmosphere's ionic charge. Yet beneath that smoldering corona of sensuality was an unmistakable resonance of something far more profound.

As if you three existed within the eye of a maelstrom, briefly suspended in rapturous singularity where time itself hung in delicious abeyance. Allowed to simply exist within the radiant coalescence of fates rendered molten and quintessentially intertwined into a seamless, eternal orbit.

It was a transcendent resonance beyond the mortal tethers which had bound your existences for so long - the culmination of celestial forces finally acknowledging and embracing their inescapable gravities towards sublime synthesis. An irrevocable truth temporarily made visceral and tangible through that suspended infinity of soulful coalescence.

For a time untold, you simply basked in the sacrosanct quiet in one another's vital presences. Content to let the echoes of eternity reverberate through your mingled existences as all that was and ever would be blurred into an ouroboros of rapturous surrender and inevitable gravities finally consummated.

Until at last, Kyōraku's rich timbre rumbled out in a rasping murmur that somehow managed to resonate straight into the very fabric of your essence.

"Well now, I don't know about the two of you...but I do believe this old soul feels decidedly reborn in the most profoundly invigorating of ways."

You felt more than heard Ukitake's answering hum of wordless agreement vibrating against the sensitive sweep of your jugular. But it was his questing hand drifting higher to entwine possessively with Kyōraku's larger palm against the flat of your abdomen that seemed to speak entire volumes of unspoken affirmations and promises.

For several weightless breaths, the intimately tangled sprawl of you simply existed within the sacred accord of raptures earned and celestial gravities eternally acknowledged. Until finally, the last lingering resonance shivered and settled - like a rippling cosmic crescendo answering the universe's ultimate anthem before lapsing back into the stillness of inevitability fulfilled.

In the aftermath of such incomprehensible transcendence, there could only be the sweetest of surrenders to that infinite, unbreakable trine reaffirmed and accepted in its ultimate, sublime resonance. So you simply shifted deeper into their encompassing embrace, pressing reverent kisses to the salty hollow between collarbones as your fingers intertwined with those of your oldest companions in existential reclamation.

"Then it seems we were all reborn anew this evening..." you rasped out with aching sincerity. "Unto this inevitable truth at last."

You lounged back against the ornately carved headboard, sheets pooled around your waist as the afterglow still tingled deliciously across your bare skin. Ukitake mirrored your pose, the scorching heat of his body radiating where your shoulders brushed.

Kyōraku remained sprawled nearby, head pillowed on your hip as he watched you both with a lazy, satiated smile. "Now there's a vision I could get utterly spoiled admiring forever," he rumbled in that deep, gravelly timbre.

You shivered at the pure sin lacing his tone, arousal flickering low in your belly. Before you could respond, Ukitake's mouth was blazing a path along the sensitive column of your throat in unhurried kisses and teasing nips.

"Somehow I doubt that's the only indulgence you have in mind, you old lech," he murmured against the thundering pulse beneath your jaw, voice dropping into that gravelly register that never failed to rekindle smoldering embers low in your belly.

Kyōraku let out an appreciative groan as he watched Ukitake's mouth meander over your skin with clear relish. "No need to be coy, Ukitake. We're all friends here who've shared rather...intimate company enough times to know each other's preferences."

You squirmed helplessly under the onslaught, breath hitching on a needy whine as Ukitake's wicked tongue swirled around one of your nipples. His only response was a low, heated chuckle vibrating against your tingling flesh.

His gaze was naked hunger as it tracked the path of Ukitake's lips, Higher and higher until he claimed your mouth in a scorching, openmouthed kiss that punched the air from your lungs with its intensity. You arched shamelessly into the velvet heat of his questing tongue, fingers burying into his disheveled hair to angle him even closer as you both rumbled out matching sounds of rapture.

Kyōraku's groan was nearly pained as he drank in the lewd image, hastily palming himself through the rumpled blanket in an unconscious bid for friction. Still, there was an unmistakable sweetness tingeing his molten regard that transcended mere lust. An affectionate bittersweetness, as if he recognized a profundly intimate resonance between you and Ukitake that his own bond could never wholly replicate - no matter how sublime.

When you finally resurfaced gasping from Ukitake's searing kiss, cheeks stained with arousal, it was to find Kyōraku already extracting himself from the decadent sprawl with reluctant grace. You blinked at him with bemused confusion, but he simply shook his head with a tender smile curving those wicked lips.

For all the heat and naked desire that simmered in the thick atmosphere blanketing you three...there was a profound depth of intimacy between you and Ukitake that stood on another celestial plane entirely. One he couldn't hope to encroach upon no matter his eternal brotherhood.

Kyōraku seemed to reach that very conclusion in the same suspended beat. Because he was already loosely tying his robes back on, pressing a kiss to the sensitive juncture of your neck and shoulder.

"I'll leave the two of you to indulge in your well-earned intimacies undisturbed for now," he murmured roughly, chasing away any confusion with a roguish wink and flash of that dimpled smile you'd grown to cherish over eternities. "Though don't think for a second this means I'll be sated forever, my dears."

You wanted to protest his gentle departure, to insist he stay and join you both in chasing the next molten crest of euphoria. But Kyōraku was already leaning down to claim your lips in one final lingering, soul-scorching kiss that seemed to sear entire profundities directly into that breathless communion.

His tongue delved deep to taste and brand before withdrawing with clear reluctance, leaving you dazed and clinging. Chasing the remnants of his unmistakable farewell until understanding finally blossomed alongside the sweet ache of bittersweet yearning blooming in the wake of his departure.

Then Kyōraku was simply...gone, whisking himself out the door and into the night-cloaked halls with footfalls lighter than accustomed for such an old scoundrel. Leaving you and Ukitake to bask in the profoundly intimate wake, bodies still tangled and trembling from the echoes of transcendent intimacy.

It was the pale-haired captain who finally broke the weighted hush that had descended in Kyōraku's wake. One calloused palm cupped the line of your jaw with infinite tenderness as he guided your joined gazes into soulsearing alignment—emerald fires blazing with eternal truths laid molten-bare between your mingled existences.

"He sees far more than we often give credit for, doesn't he?" Ukitake rasped, the low timbre of sincerity reverberating straight through to your depths. "For him to recognize that what exists between us..."

He trailed off meaningfully, allowing the heated intimation to linger in the suspended stillness as his calloused thumb traced your swollen lower lip with infinite tenderness.

You could only nod wordlessly at first, captivated by the intensity burning behind his stare. For Kyōraku had willingly surrendered these most sacred, sublime moments in recognition of the infinite gravities anchoring your soul ever tighter around Ukitake's in that breathless infinity.

His mouth claimed yours again in a searing brand of transcendent belonging - bodies melting back into the sort of sublime soulbond that seemed to resonate straight through the bedrock of creation itself. Until the entire universe had winnowed down into the exquisite singularity of your joined devotions.

You clung to Ukitake with everything you had, desperate to lose yourself fully in the endless eddies and euphoric tides of his kiss. Of surrendering completely to the infinite gravities pulling your existences into tighter and tighter resonance until separateness became an outmoded concept.

His hands roamed your curves with possessive reverence, kindling an answering inferno in your blood until you were both trembling on the precipice of rapturous oblivion once more. Then with one achingly precise rock of his hips, Ukitake sheathed himself inside you in a blazing arc of sublime coalescence.

You cried out at the exquisite brand, back bowing as he stilled for a beat - letting the tremors of your joined apotheosis blaze outwards into the universe in scorching ripples. Each particle of your beings seemed to snap into molten alignment, soulfire and stardust combusting in tandem as Ukitake began to move with purposeful leisure.

There were no words in that timeless eternity, just the shared truth of your bond consecrated between your tangled forms. The world outside ceased to exist as Ukitake moved with devoted reverence, pushing you both ever higher towards rapturous completion.

Until finally, blissful euphoria crashed over you in a blinding supernova, shattering you apart as you surrendered to that consecrated oneness. You drifted adrift in the stillness afterward, unwilling to fully emerge from the singularity you'd distilled into.

But inevitably, the temporal world began to reassert its inescapable pull. You stirred apart with profound reluctance as the tremors slowly subsided into embers. Until you found yourself cradled in Ukitake's lap, your tangled bodies the sole remainders of the infinite plane you'd briefly transcended into.

No words were exchanged in that suspended moment, only the wordless resonance of the elemental truth forged between your souls. You simply traced the contours of his beloved face, allowing the profound intimacies to linger in smoldering silence - a bittersweetness settling in the spaces where your essences slowly unwound until the next eternity beckoned you into sacred consonance once more.

[fairestar]

affirmations enchiridion · volume III : personality and appearance.

𐙚 enchiridion: a handbook; manual.ㅤ𐙚 affirmation: the assertion that something exists or is true.ㅤ✸ this post is part of a series, you can check the previous ones here (self concept) and here (overall life), or go to #enchiridion in my blog.

· i am the favoured one:

i am divine. i am awe-inspiring. i am lovely. i am unheard-of. i am everyone's favourite. i am youthful and refreshing. i am endearing. i am delicate. i am ethereal. i am the definition of the word “empyreal”.

i have an angelic disposition. every thought i have is exquisite. every word that comes out of my lips feels like poetry. every movement i make is delicate and breathtaking. my presence carries warmth and grants tranquility to everyone around. people smile when they think of me. i am everybody's dream. i am the one that brings harmony in moments of tempest. i am the one people turn to when in need of advice. i can handle any problem with unparalleled gracefulness and intelligence.

i am beloved. i am cherished. i am treasured. i am admired. i am respected. i am doted-on. everyone loves me. everyone finds me gracious and charming. i am the one that comes to mind when people think of beautiful, revered things. each person gives me their complete attention. everyone listens to what i have to say. everyone appreciates my opinions and takes them into account.

i am compassionate. i am sincere. i am genuine. i am gentle. i am calm and at peace. i am filled with light, serenity, creativity and clarity. i am careful of my well-being. i am loving. i am passionate. i am devoted to the people i love. i am true to my feelings and principles. i am truehearted.

· i am the radiant one:

i am beautiful. i am the fairest of them all. i am breathtaking. i am graceful. i am mesmerising. i am alluring. i am heavenly. i am the brightest star.

my body is perfect. my body looks exactly how i want it to. my frame is delicate but strong. i am always in good shape. i have the physique of an athlete. i can always trust my body to be healthy. my factions are beautiful and captivating. my frame is entirely symmetrical. my face can inspire artists to paint their masterpieces. i am completely satisfied with the way i look.

i always look my best. i am elegant. i am stylish. i look good no matter what i wear. every clothing piece fits me exactly the way i want it to. i carry clothes the way a model does. my hair is always shiny and soft. my nails are always healthy and pretty. i am free from any unwanted hair. i don't ever get acne or blackheads. i am never sweaty, never too hot nor too cold. my skin is smooth, consistently hydrated and clear.

✿ important note: the affirmations in the next paragraph might be triggering for people who deal with eating disorders.

i have the healthiest relationship with food. no matter what i eat, it always is nutritious and good for my body. i am always hydrated. i can eat whatever and however much i want without worrying or feeling guilty. i do not care about my weight because i know i am perfect. i love food and i know that it is good for me. every meal i have is delectable.

there is an ever-present but subtle air of resplendence that accompanies me wherever i go. a soft, most delightful perfume is left behind whenever i move. no matter what angle, i look good in every picture of video. my appearance provokes a feeling of religious devotion. my semblance is glorious. my fairness invokes thoughts of purity and perfection. every living creature is devoted to my presence.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ© fairestar, 2023.