#EXQUISITE PARADOX

[figdays]

Octobers Poster by EXQUISITE PARADOX

#EXQUISITE PARADOX #society6 #print #art #art print #poster

[littlealienproducts]

PROGRESS IS A JOURNEY Poster by EXQUISITE PARADOX

#EXQUISITE PARADOX #poster #posters #print #art print #art prints

[theambitiouswoman]

100 Words You Can Incorporate Into Your Speech To Sound More Elegant ✨

(Common word - Alternate variation)

Beautiful - Exquisite

Happy - Ecstatic

Smart - Intelligent

Big - Enormous

Small - Petite

Good - Excellent

Bad - Deplorable

Nice - Gracious

Tired - Fatigued

Old - Ancient

Rich - Affluent

Poor - Impoverished

Happy - Joyful

Sad - Melancholic

Hot - Sweltering

Cold - Frigid

Busy - Prolific

Loud - Vociferous

Easy - Effortless

Difficult - Arduous

Fast - Swift

Slow - Languid

Brave - Valiant

Funny - Witty

Rich - Opulent

Poor - Indigent

Old - Vintage

New - Novel

Strong - Robust

Weak - Feeble

Pretty - Alluring

Ugly - Unattractive

Clean - Immaculate

Dirty - Sullied

Happy - Jubilant

Sad - Despondent

Young - Youthful

Old - Antiquated

Big - Colossal

Small - Minuscule

Fast - Rapid

Slow - Sluggish

Brave - Fearless

Funny - Hilarious

Clean - Pristine

Dirty - Filthy

Strong - Stalwart

Weak - Debilitated

Happy - Content

Sad - Poignant

Confusing - Perplexing

Typical - Quintessential

Many - Myriad

Everywhere - Ubiquitous

Contradictory - Paradoxical

Showy - Ostentatious

Insightful - Perspicacious

Arrogant - Supercilious

Obscure - Esoteric

Flatterer - Sycophant

Favorable - Auspicious

Joking - Facetious

Indescribable - Ineffable

Wordy - Verbose

Respected - Venerable

Worsen - Exacerbate

Short lived - Ephemeral

Help - Facilitate

Sneaky - Insidious

Confuse - Obfuscate

Begin - Commence

End - Terminate

Start - Inaugurate

Get - Obtain

Give - Bestow

Make - Fabricate

Break - Shatter

Fix - Rectify

Use - Utilize

Look - Gaze

Find - Discover

Tell - Narrate

Ask - Inquire

Leave - Depart

Buy - Procure

Show - Exhibit

Think - Contemplate

Put - Position

Need - Require

Stop - Halt

Talk - Communicate

Like - Adore

Help - Assist

Call - Summon

See - Perceive

Tell - Enunciate

Go - Traverse

Tell - Express

Have - Possess

Feel - Experience

#elegant woman #elegance #elegant #education #educate yourself #networking #social etiquette #social skills #personal improvement #personal development

[iburnedmyselfalive]

YOUR MESS

somethin' short to make up for my absence <33

NSFW! -- Dialoge prompt - @airaibunny !

Anakin Skywalker skillfully moved his two fingers within you with an intense rhythm, causing you to tightly hold onto him.

"don't you stop squeezing around 'em, don't you stop," he whispered, playfully curling his fingers, eliciting a loud moan from you.

"yeah? that's what you like huh?" he chuckled.

With eagerness, you nodded, craving more, your legs trembling from the intense sensation.

"Say it," he hissed, seemingly attuned to your thoughts as one hand traversed your body to playfully slap your breast, prompting a whimper from you.

"I want more, Ani," you whined, a hint of desperation in your tone, causing a satisfied grin to spread across his face.

"Oh, baby," he cooed, deliberately slowing down, curling his fingers deeper and hitting your sweet spot.

"Mm, I want it so bad," you exclaimed, tugging on his gorgeous locks.

"Yeah?" he gasped, breathless, before hushing your moans with a fervent kiss, exploring down to your neck and adorning it with affectionate marks.

"Tell me you want to cum," he demanded, delivering a sharp slap to your cheek that made your thighs involuntarily clench. With one swift motion, he forced them apart.

"I want to cum ani," you cried out, gazing at him with pleading puppy dog eyes, eliciting a chuckle from him.

"Pathetic, my fingers have you whimpering like a desperate bitch, can only imagine the effect my cock would have on you?" he sneered.

His words had you in a whirlwind, repeatedly moaning his name as if it were a chant. Your hand instinctively moved down to meet his wrist, whimpering and squirming within the limits of your ability, overwhelmed by the sensation.

"Mm, s’too much ani! Too much!" you cried out, attempting to close your legs, but he forcefully kept them open.

"Take it," he growled, spitting down at your clit before bringing his thumb up to rub fast circles over the sensitive little nub.

And that's what pushed you over the edge – his explicit talk, the touch of his fingers, all of him. The approach of your climax was undeniable, legs shaking, eyes rolling, back arching as you clung to his wrist for dear life. You wanted him to stop, yet at the same time, you didn't want him to cease; it was an exquisite paradox, overwhelming in its intensity.

"Fuck" you cried out, the sensation continuing even after you climaxed. Kneeling down, he withdrew his fingers and replaced them with his tongue, eagerly cleaning up the delicious mess he had orchestrated.

"Suck," he demanded, locking eyes with you.

"Clean my fingers; this is your mess," he said, presenting his fingers to your mouth. Obeying his command, you brought the two digits into your mouth, sucking and licking them as he instructed.

Your compliance earned you a kiss on your sensitive cunt; he grinned mischievously before enveloping your clit with his lips. It made you whimper as you tried to push him away, but the vibrations of his chuckle only intensified your reaction.

Seeing his chin adorned in your juices was a sight you never wanted to part with – he looked incredibly sexy.

"What's the matter, baby? Hmm, too sensitive for my tongue?" he cooed at you, teasingly.

You whimpered, shaking your head in denial.

"No?" he asked, briefly pulling away before spreading your legs as far as they could go and diving back in with fervor. His tongue worked tirelessly on your pussy, his eyes locked onto yours, never breaking the gaze.

He reveled in observing your reactions, your mouth forming an 'o' shape in response. Sitting up, he placed one hand on you, coercing you to recline as he continued his passionate exploration.

"That feels so good," you cried out to him, squirming as you sensed your second orgasm approaching faster than expected.

He inserted a finger into you once more, his tongue skillfully circling around your clit.

Your scent drove him wild, making him crave you for every meal conceivable – breakfast, lunch, and dinner. He yearned to pleasure you as if he had been starved for years.

"Such a delectable pussy," he mumbled, sucking on your clit, creating a satisfying 'pop' sound.

#anakin fanfiction #anakin skywalker #anakin smut #anakin x reader #anakin x you #hayden christensen #star wars #star wars anakin #aesthetic #fashion #Star Wars anakin #star wars au #star wars art #obi wan #obi wan and anakin #anakin skywalker oneshot #anakin skywalker hcs #anakin skywalker drabble #anakin skywalker fic #anakin skywalker fanfic #anakin skywalker fanfiction #anakin and ahsoka #anakin and padme #anakin skywalker one shot #star wars prequels #kenobi series #sw prequels #darth vader #dom!anakin #smut

[miyx-amour]

SO NEEDY?

choi seungcheol x 14th member!fem!reader

w.c : 1.2k

lower case intended

i took a creative writing class in all four years of high school so just bear with me

during the second day of the seoul concert, seungcheol's lingering presence from the previous night stayed imprinted in your mind. his gaze followed you persistently, and the memory of his touch gently encircling your waist as you praised his charm to the carats remained vivid.

"five minutes, y/n," echoed the reminder from the staff beyond the door. a sigh escaped your lips, unintentionally reflecting your yearning, now a source of stress.

with deliberate intent, you adjusted your snug-fitting shirt, wearing a subtle smirk as you admired the provocative display of cleavage. "perfect," resonated your satisfied inner monologue.

stepping out from the dressing room, a collective gaze fixated on you, captivated by the impeccable contour of your shirt, the gentle flow of your mini-skirt on your thighs, and the rhythmic dance of your long brown hair. In that moment, you embodied perfection.

~on stage~

as the group commenced the final segment of the performance, you gracefully approached cheol, fingers intertwining while delivering your verse with a sensual allure. the palpable yearning in his expression reflected his profound need for you, yet, in that moment, your own reliance on him eclipsed his.

in a hushed murmur, you conveyed, "i need you," eliciting a sigh resonating with shared emotion. the paradox of creating such an intimate connection amidst the gaze of thousands of fans hung in the air, leaving an indelible imprint on the spectacle.

as the performance concluded and the arena plunged into darkness, a breathy exhalation of relief escaped your lips. temporarily immersed in quietude, you closed your eyes, savouring the respite until seungcheol's grip entwined in your hair disrupted the moment.

upon reopening your eyes, seungcheol, with languid confidence, whispered, "need me, don’t you? want to suck me off now, huh? i know you do. you would love to, but i don’t think you deserve that, making me feel so needy in front of so many people, huh? you’re such a bad girl."

acknowledging his words, you found yourself torn between acquiescence and impatience. a resigned sigh accompanied your ascent, traversing towards the dressing room, leaving the lingering echoes of his provocative discourse to reverberate in your contemplative mind.

~time skip~

seungcheol deftly opens the door to your shared hotel room. almost instantly upon stepping inside, cheol presses you against the wall, his lips finding their way to your ear. "you're such a needy girl," he murmurs. sensation courses through you, a growing wetness revealing the intensity of your desire. you yearned for him with an urgency that intensified by the moment.

his lips seamlessly meet yours, while his hands trace a tantalizing path up your form, securing your head in a firm yet sensual embrace. a low moan escapes into the kiss, deepening its intensity. the subtle nip on your bottom lip signals a desire for your mouth to part. as you oblige, he ventures into the intricate dance of exploration, tongues entwined in a provocative symphony.

seungcheol eases away from the intense make-out, lifting you and guiding you to the freshly prepared bed. as you recline, he sensually sheds his grey sweatpants and boxers, the sight of his hardened arousal amplifying your desire.

returning to you at a deliberate pace, he positions himself on his knees while you crawl towards him. a sensuous spit on your hand serves as lubrication as you intimately caress his throbbing length. beginning with deliberate slowness, you swiftly escalate the rhythm, indulging in passionate, kitten-like licks.

unable to resist any longer, you take him completely, eliciting a deep groan from him in response to the sudden surge of pleasure. your eyes roll back, savouring the exquisite taste you've eagerly anticipated throughout the day.

his flavour sent you to cloud nine. seungcheol revelled in the sensation of your mouth around him, releasing soft whimpers sporadically. you sensed him twitching as he neared his peak. approaching climax, he gathered your hair into a ponytail and began moving his hips, intensifying the experience to reach his peak. "fuck, fuck, fuck," he moaned, releasing his essence down your throat as you eagerly swallowed every last drop.

he plants a tender kiss on your forehead, gently guiding you backward onto the pillows. skillfully, he peels away your shirt and bra, followed by your sweatpants and panties. "open your legs," he commands, and you comply, a soft whisper escaping as the cool air caresses your intimate core. "good girl," he praises, his lips finding your dripping warmth, prompting a loud moan from you in response to the sudden pleasure.

"oh my god, f-fuck," you moan as his tongue teases your clit, your eyes welling with pleasure. your hands instinctively find their way to cheol's hair, and explicit moans escape your lips. "fuck, cheol," you scream as he introduces a finger, his pace accelerating with each passing moment.

a tight coil tightens in your stomach as cheol adds a second finger. "mm, fuck, cheol," you moan, overwhelmed by the sensations. cheol devours your intimacy with an insatiable hunger, his actions suggesting this act is his final feast. Your moans escalate into unrestrained screams, "fuck, oh my god," echoing as you reach the climax. cheol diligently licks you clean, ensuring every trace of your essence is swallowed in the aftermath.

he plants a tender kiss on your lips, trailing down to your neck, marking you possessively, a silent proclamation to the world that you belong to him and him alone. in one fluid motion, he enters you without warning. "ahh, fuck," you scream, a symphony of pleasure echoing in the room. the initial discomfort of his stretch transforms into a pleasure that eclipses any lingering pain. with unrelenting fervour, he quickens his pace, coaxing moans of his name from your lips as if it were your sole vocabulary.

descending to your chest, he marks you deliberately, sending your senses into a fog as he intensifies the rhythm. "holy shit," you groan, succumbing to the overwhelming pleasure. the sensation of him inside you, substantial and satisfying, adds to the ecstasy of the moment.

his hand moves down to the bulge in your stomach. "feel that? that's my cock, deep inside my baby," he coos as tears cascade from your eyes, overwhelmed by the intensity. gradually, he turns his attention to your tits, sensually sucking on them, eliciting throaty moans of pleasure from you. "mmm, fuck," you moan, lost in the ecstasy of the moment.

a familiar knot tightens in your stomach, "i-i'm close," you moan. seungcheol accelerates his pace, hastening your ascent to ecstasy. his eyes linger on the enticing sight of your bouncing tits as he passionately explores your swollen warmth, emitting soft groans signalling his proximity to climax.

a primal scream escapes your lips as you release all over his throbbing length. "good slut," he praises, observing as his member disappears into the creamy confines of your core. gripping your hips firmly, he maintains control, striving to reach his own pinnacle. overwhelmed by the intense stimulation, you sob, "t-too much," and he reassures you, "i know, baby, i know," peppering your neck with tender kisses.

withdrawn from your cum-filled intimacy, he commands, "open up, baby," and you comply. with a few firm strokes, he releases into your mouth, emitting a loud groan. "swallow it, baby," he instructs, and you obediently ensure every last drop is consumed.

"good girl," he coos. "let's get you cleaned up," he suggests, leaving a soft peck on your plump lips.

#🎸 - miyx-amour #seventeen smut #seventeen hard hours #seventeen hard thoughts #seungcheol smut #seungcheol hard hours #seungcheol hard thoughts #kpop smut #kpop hard hours #kpop hard thoughts #seventeen x reader #seungcheol x reader

[mononijikayu]

nightingale — geto suguru.

In the midst of a fragrant garden ablaze with the intoxicating scent of flowers, they found themselves ensnared in a tender embrace, their whispered words of love and adoration mingling with the heady perfume of blossoms. Each declaration melted her heart a little more, filling her with a sense of warmth and belonging that she had never known before. With each gentle kiss that he pressed against her skin, they were drawn together like magnets, their bodies moving in perfect harmony as though they were two halves of a whole, united in a love that knew no bounds.

GENRE: Greek Mythology AU!

WARNING/s: Romance, First Love, Fluff/Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, Pining, Grief, Mourning, Death, Mild Smut, Depiction of Sex, Depiction of Death, Depiction of Grief, Reminiscing, Reincarnation;

masterlist

listen: nightingale by norah jones

note: this a rewriting of my work previously but i missed suguru and wanted to write about him and here we are, 11k words long. its my little gift before going on a short hiatus for law exams~ i love you all!!!

SHE WAS CERTAIN THAT SHE DOES NOT UNDERSTAND LOVE AT ALL. She held steadfast the truth: love had never eluded her. The goddess, adorned with affection from her inception, was hailed the instant she graced the world. From within her very being, love's resplendent echoes cascaded, born of two souls who dared defy the world's confines, weaving a tapestry of eternal devotion. After all, she was the daughter of Cupid and Psyche. A goddess of such sensual pleasure. She knew what that warmth of touch meant.

In her every breath, love whispered her timeless melody, painting her existence with hues of passion and devotion. Adorned with the essence of adoration, she danced through life's symphony, each step a testament to the boundless affection that surrounded her. For she was not merely a recipient of love's grace, but a beacon, illuminating the path for all who sought its embrace. And in the tapestry of destiny, woven by the hands of fate, her story intertwined with those who dared to love fiercely, forging bonds that defied the constraints of time and space. Thus, in the eternal dance of love, she found her solace, her purpose, her everlasting home.

The goddess was keenly aware of the affection bestowed upon her by mortals. Adorned with the most exquisite offerings at her temple altars, she sensed a profound connection to those who revered her. Yet, despite her divine status, she recognized a shared humanity with her worshipers. In moments of reflection, as she heeded the prayers of the common folk, she found herself drawn to their desires and uncertainties, feeling a kinship that blurred the lines between deity and mortal. Yearning to unravel the mysteries of love, she longed to experience its essence firsthand—to be enveloped in the warm embrace of another, to lose herself in the intoxicating depths of love's embrace.

As the goddess observed her parents' tender gazes and exchanged whispers of adoration, a gentle envy stirred within her. They seemed to embody the very essence of wonder, locked in a world of their own creation, where their love spoke a language known only to them. They inhabited an island of love, secluded in their devotion to each other. Yet, amidst their affectionate bond, the goddess found herself questioning the nature of her own duty to love. Unable to experience or comprehend it herself, she pondered the true meaning of this elusive emotion.

In the midst of her contemplation, the goddess felt a longing tug at her heart—a yearning to understand the depths of love that eluded her grasp. She watched her parents with a mix of admiration and curiosity, wondering what it must be like to be consumed by such profound affection. Despite her divine stature, she found herself humbled by the complexity of human emotions, grappling with the paradox of her own existence. For while she was revered by mortals as a symbol of love, she remained estranged from its intimate embrace.

Yet, even in her solitude, the goddess harbored a flicker of hope—a belief that perhaps one day she too would unlock the secrets of love's mysteries. With each passing moment, she grew more determined to unravel its enigmatic allure, to bridge the chasm between her divine essence and the tender emotions that danced within mortal hearts. And so, amidst the whispers of adoration that filled the air, the goddess embarked on a journey of self-discovery—a quest to find the true meaning of love and, in doing so, to transcend the boundaries of her own existence.

Occasionally, she finds her youth to be a fleeting thing, slipping through her fingers like grains of sand. She's well aware of its capricious nature, how it can both uplift and burden her. The goddess finds solace in witnessing her parents immersed in their mutual adoration, yet beneath her admiration lies a lingering ache. The solitude of her divine existence weighs heavily upon her, a constant reminder of the emptiness beside her. She longs for a companion who can share in her joys and understand her sorrows, someone worthy of standing by her side as she seeks solace in the answers to her grief.

In the depths of her being, a tumult of emotions stirred ceaselessly. A profound longing lay entrenched within her, echoing like the thunderous roar of Zeus's lightning across the heavens, yearning to be acknowledged and understood. Why must she be denied such desires? Other deities in her midst grappled with their own complexities of love and devotion, yet she remained confined within this cage of yearning—to belong to someone's secluded haven, to grasp the essence of being the bestower of joy and affection.

Her father had always treasured her as the living embodiment of his and Psyche's boundless love. As their only child, she was a precious gift, a testament to the depth of their affection for each other. The thought of parting with her filled his heart with an overwhelming sense of sorrow and apprehension. He couldn't bear the idea of losing her to the passage of time, to the inevitable growth and transformation that awaited her on the journey into adulthood.

Yet, deep down, she knew that she couldn't remain under her parents' protective wing forever. As much as her father cherished her, she understood that there comes a time when every child must spread their wings and venture out into the world on their own. She could see the struggle in her father's eyes, the reluctance to let go of the little girl he still saw in her, even as she blossomed into a young woman.

Despite the pain it caused her father,  the goddess knew that she needed to assert her independence and forge her own path in life. She recognized that true living required taking risks, embracing the unknown, and charting a course toward her own destiny. And so, with a mixture of determination and trepidation, she resolved to pursue her dreams and aspirations, even if it meant venturing into uncharted territory.

“One day, I’ll be free to know what its like to.” She whispers to herself under her breath, looking at her mother and father. “I’ll know what love is too.”

THAT DAY CAME SOONER THAN SHE WAS PREPARED FOR. As Cupid and Psyche departed for the Temple of Venus, leaving their daughter behind in the care of the Gratiae, a sense of longing and sadness filled the air. Cupid's reluctance to part with his daughter was evident in the way he held her close, his gaze lingering on her as though trying to etch her image into his memory. Similarly, Psyche cradled her daughter in her arms, her touch gentle and loving as always.

Despite their deep love for their daughter, Cupid and Psyche knew that they were still gods. People had relied upon them.They had to fulfill their duties and obligations, even if it meant being separated from their beloved daughter. The Temple of Venus, nestled in the remote mountainous forests where mortals were forbidden to tread, was a place of great importance to Cupid's mother. 

Soon after, they would accompany Venus and her retinue towards the home of the gods, in Mount Olympus. That was much more of a concern to them. It was too much for their beloved daughter. It was a short trip, one that would fly by soon. As far as Cupid and Psyche were concerned, they would return sooner or later to be with their beloved child again.

"Father, why do you not take me with you to visit grandmother?" the goddess questioned, her silk shawl slipping from her elbows. Cupid's lips formed a flat line, while Psyche's eyes widened with fear as she prepared the chariot. "I am a goddess, am I not? Do I not have the right to visit the place within the league of blood and kin? Do I not have a place there too?"

"I love you, my child," Cupid responded, his eyes gleaming with devotion as his fingers cupped his child's cheek. "But you know the reason as to why we cannot bring you along with us."

"I know so, but I am no longer a child—"

"You will always be a child to us," her father insisted, shaking his head and taking a deep breath. "And just as much, we cannot part with you. Not when you echo all of our love in your very being, daughter."

"Your father and I just wish to protect you, my dear," her mother, Psyche, added as she walked towards her, taking hold of her hand. "There are many there that I cannot trust with your well-being. I cannot bear to see harm upon you, daughter. Neither can your father. You know this."

The goddess knew whom her mother speaks of.

She shudders at the thought.

The memory of the incident echoes still.

In the dawn of her parents' youth, this event left an indelible mark on their souls, seared into the very fabric of their existence. Life within the Caelum was fraught with challenges, where every inch of space was claimed by powerful gods and goddesses who brooked no opposition. They held sway with an unyielding dominance, leaving little room for others to find footing.

For Cupid, the prospect of returning to the Caelum and introducing Psyche to his family was fraught with dread. He couldn't shake the worry that gnawed at him, haunted by memories of his mother's treatment of Psyche. How could he not fear the repercussions of such a reunion?

Cupid counted himself fortunate that Psyche had chosen to remain by his side, committed to their union despite the challenges they faced. However, he was keenly aware of the voracious appetite for power that lurked within the hearts of the other gods. Psyche, with her ethereal beauty—silver hair cascading like a waterfall, eyes sparkling like the stars—was a prize coveted by many.

Despite Psyche's reluctance, Cupid knew they couldn't avoid facing his family forever. Resigned to the inevitable, he resolved to confront them and fulfill the obligations expected of them. With a heavy heart, Cupid escorted Psyche to the Caelum, where they were greeted once more by the gods and goddesses. As expected, the overwhelming presence of his family only served to unsettle Psyche, leaving her besieged by their constant attention.

In the midst of the grand spectacle orchestrated by the gods to win Psyche's favor, Cupid seethed with anger, his heart heavy with frustration and indignation. Each deity vied for Psyche's attention, showering her with extravagant displays of affection and lavish gifts, all in an attempt to win her favor.

Apollo serenaded his wife with melodies extolling her beauty and grace, while Neptune presented her with the most exquisite pearl from the depths of the ocean, a token of his undying devotion. Meanwhile, Mercury whisked Psyche away to enchanting locales, captivating her with the wonders of the world.

Mars, fueled by his competitive spirit, engaged in fierce duels with Apollo and Neptune, determined to prove himself worthy of Psyche's admiration. Even Jupiter, the mighty king of the gods, joined the fray, painting the skies with breathtaking displays of cosmic wonder.

Amidst the chaos, Cupid stood resolute, his fury boiling over as he witnessed the discomfort inflicted upon his beloved Psyche. He vowed not to return until the gods ceased their relentless pursuit of her affections, declaring that he would sooner wage war against them than see her suffer.

It was Minerva who ultimately intervened, chastising her fellow gods for their foolishness and selfish motives. She reminded them that Psyche was happily wedded to Cupid, and their ostentatious displays of affection were driven not by love, but by a desire for conquest and control.

For the goddess, the concept of love and marriage among gods and goddesses held little significance. It was a realm of existence where power and dominance reigned supreme, where love was often overshadowed by ambition and desire. Yet, amidst the tumultuous landscape of divine affairs, her father Cupid stood as a beacon of unwavering devotion to his beloved Psyche.

Cupid's love for Psyche transcended the boundaries of divine politics and power struggles. He had risked everything, defying his own mother for the sake of their love. To him, Psyche was the epitome of truth and beauty, worth more than any earthly or celestial possession.

When their daughter was born, Cupid harbored a deep-seated fear that she would one day fall victim to the machinations of the gods. He desired nothing more than for her to find a love as pure and devoted as his own for Psyche, to be cherished and adored by someone who would prioritize her happiness above all else.

The goddess couldn't help but feel a twinge of frustration and resignation at the harsh reality of her parents' words. She understood the importance of finding true love amidst the chaos of the divine realm, yet she couldn't shake the feeling of apprehension at the thought of navigating the treacherous waters of love and devotion in a world ruled by power and ambition.

"I understand," she murmured softly, her voice tinged with disappointment. "But I cannot help but feel confined, tethered to the safety of these walls while the world beyond beckons to me."

Cupid's gaze softened as he placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "One day, my child," he said gently, "when the time is right, you will spread your wings and soar beyond these walls. But for now, trust in us to keep you safe."

Psyche squeezed her daughter's hand reassuringly. "We love you more than anything, my dear," she whispered, her eyes shining with maternal affection. "And until that day comes, know that you will always have a home here, surrounded by our love and protection."

As her parents prepared to depart for their journey to visit her grandmother, the goddess couldn't help but feel a pang of longing in her heart. The prospect of being left behind, even temporarily, filled her with a sense of loneliness that she struggled to shake off.

Yet, as her father reassured her with his comforting words, a glimmer of hope flickered within her. She knew that their separation was only temporary, that they would return to her side as swiftly as the winds that caressed her cheeks.

With a bittersweet smile, the goddess pressed a tender kiss upon her father's cheek and embraced her mother tightly. "Safe travels, father, mother," she whispered softly, her voice tinged with a hint of sadness. "May Caelus, Terra, and Dies watch over you on your journey."

Her father returned her embrace, his gaze filled with warmth and affection. "And you, daughter," he replied, his voice gentle yet firm. "Take care of yourself while we are away. Listen to the Gratiae and let them guide you in our absence."

With a final nod of farewell, her parents boarded the chariot and began their journey, leaving the goddess standing alone in the quiet solitude of their chambers. As she watched them depart, she couldn't help but feel a sense of uncertainty mingled with determination. She would heed her father's advice and trust in the guidance of the Gratiae, knowing that her parents would return to her side before long.

As her parents vanished into the vast expanse of the skies, the goddess heaved a sigh, feeling the weight of their absence settle upon her shoulders. With a heavy heart, she retreated into the solitude of their manse, finding solace amidst the lush beauty of the garden that her father had lovingly crafted for her mother.

Each flower, a testament to their enduring love, whispered stories of devotion and union that spanned the ages. The goddess couldn't help but smile as she traced her fingers along the delicate petals, feeling a sense of peace wash over her in the tranquil embrace of nature's embrace.

As she gazed out of the window, the sight of the Gratiae seated together on a bench near the fountain greeted her. Thalia, the eldest of the Gratiae and goddess of wealth, flashed a radiant grin in her direction. It was a smile that seemed to carry the gleam of gold, reflecting her divine domain. "Let's play, come!" Thalia called out eagerly. "Our father's gift has arrived—little ships made of gold!"

But Euphrosyne, the goddess of joy, interjected with a note of concern. "Sister, lower your voice! Can't you see? The goddess wears her worries like a cloak."

"Why the sadness, dear goddess?" Aglaia, the youngest of the Gratiae, inquired softly, casting a glance at her sisters. "What can we do to lift her spirits, sisters?"

"Think quickly!" Thalia urged, rising to her feet. "What can we do?"

"Perhaps Poena has made her cry, or maybe Febris has made her sick," Euphrosyne speculated aloud.

"Poena and Febris wouldn't dare cause distress to the goddess," Aglaia remarked with a smile. "There must be another reason."

At times, she marveled at how her grandmother fared with these three as her constant companions. Yet, deep down, she knew their intentions were pure.

"The goddess!" Thalia called out again, breaking her reverie.

As she was about to respond to the call of the Gratiae, a vibrant glint caught her eye, drawing her attention to the ornate mirror adorning the wall. Intrigued, the goddess approached, her brow furrowing with curiosity. The mirror shimmered with a pristine gleam, reflecting the radiance of her temple. Its white stone façade contrasted beautifully against the golden rays of the sun, casting a spellbinding aura.

Located on a small isle in Via Nova near Porta Romana, her temple stood as a testament to her divine presence. Within its hallowed halls, her resplendent statue commanded reverence, adorned in garments painted with graceful hues and embellished with intricate gold reliefs. And there, kneeling before her likeness, was a man.

“Goddess, oh goddess!” A man with dark hair and purple eyes cried pitifully at her altar. “I am praying at your feet, longing that you answer my suffering, goddess, oh goddess! My beloved left me for another. God, oh goddess, give me joy so that I can go through this life without remorse or sorrow. Let me be happy, goddess or goddess!”

As the man with dark hair and purple eyes cried out pitifully at her altar, pouring out his heartache and longing for solace, the goddess couldn't help but feel a pang of empathy pierce her divine essence. His pleas echoed in the sacred space, reverberating with the raw intensity of his suffering.

Her heart swelled with pity as she gazed upon the distraught mortal, his anguish palpable in every tear that fell. Why must mortals endure such pain? What had this man done to deserve such heartbreak? With a furrowed brow and a heavy heart, the goddess clenched her fists, her desire to alleviate his suffering burning fiercely within her.

But he was not alone in his sorrow. Others followed, each sharing their own tales of loss and longing, their voices blending into a chorus of anguish that resonated throughout the temple. The weight of their collective grief pressed upon her, urging her to take action.

With a determined resolve, the goddess tore her gaze away from the mirror and hastened to the stables. Without hesitation, she prepared her chariot, harnessing her steed with practiced efficiency. With a silent command, she descended from the heavens, her divine presence descending into the mortal realm to offer solace to those in need.

As Thalia tried to call out once more for the goddess, her voice echoing through the empty space, there was no response. Confusion clouded their expressions as they pondered the sudden disappearance of their divine companion.

"Perhaps Poena paid a visit," Aglaia suggested, her voice tinged with uncertainty. "Or maybe she's simply attending to her own needs. She'll return soon enough, I'm sure of it."

Euphrosyne, ever the optimist, clapped her hands excitedly, eager to divert their attention. "Let's not dwell on it! Come, let's play with Father's gift!"

But the goddess was not attending to personal matters or playing with gifts.

Instead, with a resolute determination burning within her, she commanded her steed to carry her across the skies, venturing into the mortal realm for the first time in her immortal existence.

SHE DIDN’T KNOW WHAT TO EXPECT. The goddess, unfamiliar with the mortal realm, quickly returned her chariot of horses to her palace upon her arrival. Understanding the danger that her divine form posed to mortal eyes, she took swift action to transform herself into the guise of a mortal woman. Gods and goddesses bore such immense magical power within their beings that the mere sight of them could be fatal to mortals. The goddess could not bear the thought of inadvertently causing harm, and so she fashioned a mortal form for herself with her own hands.

Once transformed, the goddess set out for the bustling heart of human life—the city. Everywhere she looked, there was an abundance of activity and vitality, with people bustling about their daily lives, engaged in laughter, song, and commerce. The sensation of the wind against her skin and the warmth of the sun above filled her with a sense of delight.

With a bright smile adorning her mortal face, the goddess greeted those she passed along the way, relishing in the simple joys of human interaction. However, her enthusiasm got the better of her, and in her excitement, she failed to notice the passing carriage, a momentary lapse of judgment reminding her that even gods could be prone to folly.

"Watch out!" a voice cried out, jolting the goddess from her reverie. She lifted her gaze, eyes widening in shock at the sight before her. Caught off guard by the sudden warning, she found herself immobilized, unable to react in time. Desperately, she attempted to summon magic from her hands, only to hesitate. Revealing her powers would betray her presence. "Move, my lady!"

‘What should I do?’

In that moment, she felt another's arms enveloping her, pulling her to safety just as the carriage careened past, crashing into the wall in a deafening cacophony. Gasping for breath, she felt the world go silent around her. Fear gripped her, trembling as she struggled to regain her bearings. For the first time, she felt the weight of powerlessness coursing through her veins.

"Are you alright, my lady?" Sound rushed back, and she found herself gazing into eyes as deep and warm as the night sky. They held a vitality she had never witnessed before, a spark that seemed to transcend mortal life. "Please, tell me! Are you safe, are you unhurt?"

The goddess found herself speechless, her cheeks flushing crimson with embarrassment. In that moment, the man realized the impact of his actions and hastily retreated, giving her space to compose herself under the watchful gaze of the sun. A crowd began to form around them, curious onlookers seeking answers about the chaotic scene. Concerned voices inquired about their well-being, but neither the goddess nor the man responded, their focus solely on each other.

With a sense of urgency, the man extended his hand to the goddess, eager to assist her to her feet. Swallowing the lump in her throat, the goddess reluctantly accepted his gesture, her hand trembling slightly as it met his.

‘Even his hand is warm.’ She murmurs to herself.

As the man extended his hand, the goddess's mind raced with fragments of memories, pieces of a puzzle falling into place with startling clarity. She couldn't shake the feeling of familiarity that washed over her, a sense of connection that transcended mere chance. In the midst of the chaos, amidst the concerned murmurs of the crowd, she found herself drawn to him in a way she couldn't fully explain.

At that moment, it clicked. She remembered him—the man who had knelt before her altar in his time of need, his heart laid bare in an act of vulnerability that had touched her deeply. The memory flooded back, vivid and unmistakable, like a beacon in the storm of confusion.

He had been broken, yes, but also kind—so achingly kind. And now, here he stood, extending a hand to help her, his sincerity shining through in every gesture. The goddess felt a warmth spread through her at the realization. His kindness had not been fleeting or superficial; it was woven into the very fabric of his being, an intrinsic part of who he was.

The goddess blinked, shaken by the intensity of the moment and the concern in the stranger's eyes. She struggled to find her voice, her mind still reeling from the near miss.

"I... I think so," she managed to stammer, her voice barely above a whisper. "Thank you... for saving me."

The stranger's expression softened with relief, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "It was nothing, my lady. I couldn't just stand by and watch you come to harm."

"I'm alright, sir," she murmured, her voice trembling with nerves, unsure of what to say to the young man. "Thank you for saving me."

"You're most welcome. We all strive to do right by our gods, showing kindness and gentleness in our actions," he replied earnestly. "Though we never know if they'll grace us with their presence."

A soft laugh escaped the goddess's lips at his words, for she herself was among the deities who visited their realm. Generosity was indeed a customary virtue, lest one wished to incur a god's wrath.

"Yes," she affirmed softly.

"Come, come with me," the man urged, his smile radiant as the night sky adorned with twin stars. "I'll fetch you some hot wine and food to settle your nerves. Perhaps restore some of your strength, my lady. You've been through something dreadful."

"W-wait, I don't know you," the goddess stammered, her uncertainty palpable.

"And I don't know you either," the man replied warmly, his eyes alight with genuine joy. "But as I mentioned, kindness towards all is a virtue the gods would surely approve of."

"What... what is your name?" she inquired, her curiosity piqued.

"I am Suguru," he declared with a joyful flourish. "Musician to the king of this realm. And you, young lady, who are you?"

"I'm—" She caught herself, refraining from revealing her true identity. Instead, she offered a human alias. His eyes sparkled with curiosity as his smile broadened.

"My lady, I'm delighted to make your acquaintance," Suguru said, his voice brimming with sincerity.

He looked so handsome like this, she thinks.

Too beautiful for his own good, it hurts.

Her hand rested on her chest.

She could feel her heart beating.

SHE MUST HAVE STARED AT HIM FOR ALL THAT TIME. It had been an ideal day for travel by foot, with the clouds providing a welcomed shield from the sun and a gentle breeze keeping the air pleasantly cool. They made their way to Suguru's residence, situated in the farthest reaches of the city. His home stood in the bustling outskirts near the market center, where the lively atmosphere filled the air. Children darted around, engaged in games of hide and seek, while mothers busied themselves with household chores.

Upon arrival, they found Suguru's dwelling to be modest yet inviting. As a musician, his earnings were dependent on the favor of nobles and kings, and he had been fortunate enough to capture the attention of the newly crowned king. Entering the small room, they found a simple layout: a small bed nestled against the wide window, a compact lavatory, and a small kitchen area with produce stored in closed pots. A solitary table occupied the center of the room, with a lone chair positioned nearby.

In the simplicity of Suguru's abode, there existed a warmth that transcended the mere physical confines of the space. It was a sanctuary amidst the chaos of modern life, a haven where tranquility and comfort reigned supreme. As the goddess traversed the modest rooms, her senses were greeted by the gentle fragrance of grassy moss and the vibrant hues of wildflowers adorning the clay vases in the corners.

Each brick she touched seemed to exude a sense of history and resilience, as if bearing witness to the passage of time and the trials of the mortal world. Despite the ferocious summers and harsh winters that plagued the inhabitants of this realm, Suguru's home stood as a bastion of serenity and stability, offering solace to those who sought refuge within its walls.

Suguru's voice carried a softness as he pointed to the vibrant blue door nearby, a subtle homage to the vast expanse of the sky. "It's reminiscent of the sea," he murmured. "Sometimes, when I close my eyes, I can almost hear the waves crashing against the shore."

Curiosity flickered in the goddess's eyes as she inquired about Suguru's countryside home. "Is it similar to this?" she asked, her tone tinged with genuine interest. "What was it like there?"

A wistful smile graced Suguru's lips as he reflected on his distant memories. "It's been too long for me to say," he confessed. "But in my mind's eye, I can still see the beauty of it all. The olive trees swaying gently in the breeze, the laughter of my family echoing through the fields as we went about our daily routines. It was a time of simple joys and cherished moments."

The goddess's empathy shone through as she acknowledged Suguru's longing for his homeland. "You must miss them," she whispered softly, a hint of sympathy in her voice. "But I imagine it brings you comfort to dream of those days."

Suguru nodded, a quiet resolve in his gaze as he returned her smile. "Yes, it does," he admitted. "But life is about embracing the present, isn't it? I may be far from home, but I'm living my dream here and now. And for the time being, that's more than enough."

"It's admirable," she remarked, her gaze softening with admiration. "To find contentment in the midst of longing."

Suguru's expression softened, a faint smile playing on his lips. "Life has a way of leading us down unexpected paths," he mused. "But it's what we make of those paths that truly defines us."

In the quiet hours of the night, as the flames danced in the hearth and the air was thick with the aroma of bread and wine, the goddess found herself immersed in Suguru's world. His words lingered in her mind, stirring a deep contemplation within her immortal soul.

The feast he laid before her was a testament to his generosity and hospitality, a humble offering that spoke volumes of his character. With each bite of the delicious bread and each sip of the aged wine, she felt a connection to the mortal realm unlike anything she had experienced before. It was as if Suguru's warmth and sincerity had breached the barriers between their worlds, inviting her to truly live in the present moment.

Their conversation flowed effortlessly, touching upon topics both profound and mundane. They spoke of family, of dreams yet to be realized, of the fleeting nature of existence itself. And in those fleeting hours, the goddess felt a sense of liberation she had never known before.

For the first time in her immortal life, she felt truly alive, basking in the simple joys of companionship and shared experiences. In Suguru's company, she found a kindred spirit, someone who understood the complexities of life and embraced them with open arms.

As the night wore on and the fire burned low, the goddess realized that true fulfillment didn't lie in the opulence of her divine realm, but in the richness of human connection and the beauty of life's fleeting moments. And in that realization, she found a newfound appreciation for the gift of existence itself.

Suguru's warmth enveloped her like a comforting embrace, his presence a soothing balm to her immortal soul. His beauty, so effortlessly radiant, seemed to illuminate the dim corners of her heart, stirring feelings she had long forgotten. In his company, she felt alive in a way she had never experienced before.

But it was his voice that truly enraptured her, weaving a spell of enchantment that transcended mortal limitations. When he sang, it was as if the heavens themselves had opened up, pouring forth celestial melodies that echoed through the very fabric of existence. It was a gift bestowed upon him by her uncle Apollo, a divine talent that left her breathless with awe.

As Suguru's voice filled the air, each note carrying the weight of his emotions, the goddess found herself moved to tears. His music was a testament to the beauty and pain of the human experience, a poignant reminder of the fragility and resilience of the mortal soul. And yet, amidst the sorrow and longing, there was a glimmer of eternity, a promise of everlasting hope that shimmered like the stars above.

In that moment, as she listened to Suguru's soulful melodies, the goddess felt a profound sense of connection to the mortal realm. It was a reminder that despite their differences, the bonds of love and empathy transcended all boundaries, uniting them in a shared journey through the vast tapestry of existence.

And as the echoes of Suguru's song faded into the night, the goddess knew that she had found something truly precious in his presence. It was a glimpse of the forever she had yearned for, a fleeting moment of perfection that she would cherish for eternity.

"Your voice," she whispered, her voice barely above a breath, "it's... divine."

Suguru's gaze met hers, his eyes reflecting the flickering firelight with a mixture of humility and gratitude. "Thank you," he said softly, his words carrying a weight of emotion. "It means a lot coming from you."

"I've never heard anything quite like it," she continued, her heart swelling with a sense of wonder. "It's as if the heavens themselves have blessed you with their song."

Suguru's cheeks flushed with color at her praise, a shy smile gracing his lips. "I'm just grateful to be able to share it with you," he replied, his voice filled with sincerity. "Music has always been my solace, my way of expressing the depths of my soul."

The goddess reached out, her hand finding his and intertwining their fingers in a gentle embrace. "And what a beautiful soul it is," she murmured, her eyes reflecting the warmth of the firelight as she gazed into his. "Thank you for sharing it with me."

Suguru's smile widened at her words, a soft glow of appreciation radiating from his features. "It's my pleasure," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper. "To have someone like you appreciate my music, it's more than I could have ever hoped for."

Their hands remained entwined, the warmth of their touch creating a cocoon of intimacy amidst the cool night air. The crackling fire cast dancing shadows across the room, adding to the enchantment of the moment.

The goddess leaned in closer, her breath mingling with Suguru's as she spoke. "I feel as though your music speaks directly to my soul," she confessed, her voice barely audible over the gentle melody of his song. "It's as if you understand me in a way no one else ever has."

Suguru's eyes shimmered with a mixture of affection and reverence as he met her gaze. "Perhaps our souls are attuned to each other," he suggested, his words laced with a hint of wonder. "Maybe that's why our connection feels…..”

Her own eyes meet his purple orbs. “Natural. Real.”

In that simple exchange, amidst the flickering glow of the fire and the tender embrace of their hands, there existed a purity that transcended the complexities of their worlds. The goddess found herself drawn to Suguru's authenticity, to the genuine sincerity that radiated from his every word and gesture.

His smile, warm and genuine, spoke volumes. It was a reflection of his unassuming nature, of his innate ability to find beauty and joy in the simplest of moments. There was no pretense, no artifice—just Suguru, in all his natural splendor.

As their eyes met, a silent understanding passed between them, a shared recognition of the profound connection they shared. It was a connection born not of grand gestures or elaborate displays, but of the quiet, unspoken bond that had blossomed between two souls who had found solace in each other's presence.

In that moment, the goddess felt a sense of peace wash over her, a feeling of contentment that she hadn't known in ages. With Suguru by her side, she was reminded of the beauty of simplicity, of the power of genuine human connection.

"Yes," she whispered, her voice barely above a breath. "Just that." And in Suguru's smile, she found a glimpse of the divine—an affirmation of the beauty that exists in the natural, the real, and the unassuming.

In the fleeting moments they shared, amidst the warmth of the firelight and the gentle strains of Suguru's music, the goddess found herself immersed in a world where time seemed to stand still. She was hesitant to let go of this precious moment, to bid farewell to the comfort and solace she found in Suguru's presence.

But even as she reveled in the joy of their connection, a sense of responsibility weighed heavily on her heart. She couldn't bear the thought of causing worry or distress to those she held dear, of disappearing without a trace and leaving them to wonder about her fate.

Despite her own yearning for companionship and understanding, the goddess knew that she had a duty to uphold, a responsibility to those who depended on her. She couldn't allow her own desires to overshadow the well-being of others, even if it meant sacrificing her own happiness in the process.

As she prepared to part ways with Suguru, a bittersweet ache settled in her chest. She knew that their time together was fleeting, that she couldn't linger in his presence as much as she longed to. But in her heart, she held onto the hope that he would find happiness and fulfillment in his life, that the gods would smile upon him and bless him with all the goodness he deserved.

And as she bid him farewell, she whispered a silent prayer to the gods, a plea for their benevolence and grace to shine upon Suguru, the man who had touched her soul in ways she never thought possible. For in loving him, even from afar, she found a sense of purpose and meaning that transcended the boundaries of time and space.

When the goddess returned to her abode she could not get Suguru’ face out of her mind. She slept that night, dreaming of a man she could not be with. All night, she had wished she had not left but the perfect moment was to leave when he was asleep. It would not be right to stay too long. But the goddess could not help it. She could not help but long for him. And thus, she did return.

SHE KEPT COMING BACK TO HIM. In the days that followed, the goddess found herself drawn back to Suguru's side time and time again—much to his delight. He was ever so happy that she kept coming back to him. He liked seeing her, he liked singing for her. He liked knowing that she was there with him, even just to bid him good night. Despite the weight of her responsibilities and the pull of her divine duties, she couldn't resist the allure of his presence, the warmth of his smile, and the depth of his compassion.

With each passing moment spent in his company, the goddess felt a profound sense of happiness and fulfillment wash over her. She could feel it in every fiber of her body. It was as though butterflies danced on her belly whenever she saw him. In Suguru's embrace, she discovered a kind of joy that transcended the boundaries of mortal and divine, a pure and unadulterated happiness that resonated deep within her soul.

Their time together was filled with laughter and light, with shared moments of tenderness and affection that left the goddess feeling as though she had found her true home in Suguru's arms. His gaze held a depth of adoration that mirrored the vast expanse of the night sky, each star shining with the promise of endless possibility and boundless love.

As they walked hand in hand, the goddess felt the rhythm of her heart syncopate with Suguru's, their connection a symphony of shared experiences and intertwined destinies. His touch, gentle yet firm, filled her with a sense of belonging unlike anything she had ever known, grounding her in the present moment and reminding her of the beauty of simply being alive.

In Suguru's presence, the goddess found herself enveloped in a sense of ethereal contentment, a feeling of peace and serenity that transcended the chaos of the mortal world. For in loving him, she discovered a kind of completeness that she had never thought possible, a sense of wholeness that filled her with a boundless sense of gratitude and wonder.

And so, the goddess treasured each moment spent with Suguru, cherishing the simple yet profound beauty of their connection and reveling in the magic of their shared love. For in him, she had found not only a companion and confidant, but a kindred spirit whose presence illuminated her path and filled her heart with endless joy.

As the day of the celebration approached, Suguru's excitement became palpable, his eyes sparkling with anticipation as he spoke animatedly about the festivities. He regaled you with tales of past celebrations, describing the vibrant colors, the lively music, and the joyous atmosphere that filled the air.

Despite your nerves, you found yourself unable to resist his infectious enthusiasm. The way his smile widened at your agreement to accompany him filled your heart with warmth, dispelling any doubts or fears you may have had.

You knew that stepping into the realm of the gods, even in celebration, was no small feat. But for Suguru, you were willing to brave any uncertainty. His happiness was contagious, and the thought of sharing this special day with him filled you with a sense of excitement and anticipation of your own. As the bustling sounds of the festival filled the air, Suguru and the goddess strolled hand in hand, their laughter mingling with the lively music drifting through the streets.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Suguru remarked, his eyes alight with excitement as he gestured towards the colorful lanterns illuminating the night sky.

The goddess nodded, a smile playing at the corners of her lips. "It truly is," she replied, her gaze wandering over the throngs of people gathered in the square. "I've never seen anything quite like it."

Suguru chuckled softly, his fingers intertwining with hers as they navigated through the crowd. "Well, you're in for a treat then," he said, his voice filled with warmth. "This festival is unlike any other. It's a celebration of music, of art, of life itself."

As they approached the heart of the festivities, the goddess's eyes widened in wonder at the sight before her. The square was alive with activity, adorned with colorful banners and shimmering decorations. Musicians played lively tunes on wooden flutes and tambourines, while dancers swayed to the rhythm of the music, their movements fluid and graceful.

"Shall we join them?" Suguru asked, a mischievous twinkle in his eye as he inclined his head towards the dancers.

The goddess hesitated for a moment, her cheeks flushing with excitement. "I... I'm not sure," she admitted, her heart fluttering in her chest.

But Suguru's smile was infectious, his hand reaching out to gently pull her closer. "Come on," he urged, his voice soft and reassuring. "Let's lose ourselves in the music, just for tonight."

With a nod and a smile, the goddess allowed herself to be swept away by the intoxicating energy of the festival, her worries melting away in the warmth of Suguru's embrace. And as they danced beneath the starlit sky, their laughter ringing out like a melody, she knew that this night would be one she would never forget.

The square was alive with energy, pulsating with the rhythm of drums and the enchanting melodies of flutes. The air was thick with the scent of incense wafting from ornate altars and the mouthwatering aroma of sizzling delicacies from street vendors' stalls.

As they stepped into the bustling square, bathed in the warm glow of torches and lanterns, Suguru's hand found hers, his touch igniting a spark of excitement within her. With him by her side, she felt a surge of anticipation, eager to immerse herself in the festivities.

They moved through the lively crowd as one, their steps guided by the pulsating rhythm of the music. Laughter bubbled up between them, merging seamlessly with the joyful chatter of the revelers around them. With each step, they drank in the sights and sounds of the celebration, their spirits lifted by the vibrant atmosphere that surrounded them.

Amidst the swirling sea of dancers, Suguru pulled the goddess into his arms, guiding her in a lively dance that seemed to mirror the pulsing rhythm of their hearts. They moved with an effortless grace, twirling and spinning beneath the starry canopy above, lost in the magic of the moment.

As the night wore on and the festivities reached a crescendo, Suguru led the goddess to a secluded corner of the square, where they found a quiet spot to rest and catch their breath. There, under the soft glow of the moonlight, they shared stories and laughter, their words dancing like fireflies in the night.

Under the spell of the night, they indulged in the heady sweetness of wine, the rich liquid fueling their spirits and igniting a flame of desire within them. As they danced beneath the stars, the world around them blurred into a haze of joy and euphoria, each moment filled with the promise of something deeper, something more profound.

With each sip of wine, their inhibitions dissolved like mist in the morning sun, leaving behind only the raw, unbridled passion that simmered beneath the surface. And as the night unfurled its velvety cloak, Suguru's lips met hers in a tender kiss, the world around them seemed to fade into insignificance, leaving only the electric pulse of their shared desire. The touch of his lips against hers ignited a wildfire of longing within her, a hunger that burned hotter with each passing moment.

"Gods," Suguru whispered against her lips, his voice husky with desire. "I've wanted to do that since the moment I laid eyes on you."

The goddess could only respond with a soft moan of pleasure, her fingers tangling in his hair as she pulled him closer, deepening the kiss with a fervor born of longing and need. In that moment, nothing else mattered but the intoxicating taste of him, the heat of his body pressed against hers, and the overwhelming sensation of being consumed by passion.

"Suguru," she murmured breathlessly, her voice barely above a whisper as their lips parted, "I've never felt this way before."

He gazed into her eyes, his own filled with a mixture of tenderness and desire. "Neither have I," he admitted, his fingers tracing gentle patterns along her cheek. "Being with you... it feels like coming home."

A soft smile tugged at her lips as she leaned in to kiss him once more, their connection growing stronger with each passing moment. "I don't want this night to end," she confessed, her heart pounding in her chest.

"Then let's make it last forever," Suguru replied, his voice filled with determination as he pulled her close, sealing their fate with another passionate kiss. And beneath the blanket of stars, they surrendered to the intoxicating allure of love, knowing that their hearts had found their true home in each other's embrace.

In the throes of passion, they surrendered to the pull of desire, their bodies melding together in a symphony of sensation and emotion. Wrapped in each other's arms, they lost themselves in the rapture of the moment, their hearts beating as one beneath the vast expanse of the starlit sky.

As the night wore on and the festivities reached their zenith, Suguru and his beloved goddess found themselves lost in each other's arms, wrapped together under the celestial canopy of stars. Their laughter, the beating of their hearts, is better than the sound of music outside the windows, filling the air with a sense of pure joy and abandon. 

In the midst of a fragrant garden ablaze with the intoxicating scent of flowers, they found themselves ensnared in a tender embrace, their whispered words of love and adoration mingling with the heady perfume of blossoms. Each declaration melted her heart a little more, filling her with a sense of warmth and belonging that she had never known before. With each gentle kiss that he pressed against her skin, they were drawn together like magnets, their bodies moving in perfect harmony as though they were two halves of a whole, united in a love that knew no bounds.

As the night deepened and the world around them faded into shadow, they found themselves entwined in each other's arms, lost in a sea of passion and desire. The soft glow of lanterns cast a warm halo around them, illuminating the contours of their bodies with a gentle radiance that seemed to dance and flicker with the rhythm of their hearts.

In that moment, there was no past, no future—only the exquisite beauty of the present, unfolding like a delicate flower in the darkness. And as they surrendered themselves to the ecstasy of the night, their souls intertwined in a symphony of love and longing, they knew that they had found something rare and precious—a love that would endure the test of time, burning bright like a beacon in the night.

"I never want this moment to end," Suguru confessed, his voice filled with a mixture of longing and desire.

"Nor do I," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper as she leaned in to capture his lips in a tender kiss. And in that fleeting moment, time stood still as they surrendered to the irresistible pull of their love, knowing that in each other's arms, they had found the true meaning of happiness.

And there she felt the thing called love.

She would never trade it for anything.

Not even staying as a god.

She wanted all of this, all of Suguru.

SHE WISHED SHE WAS THERE WHEN IT HAPPENED. In the quiet solitude of her chambers, the goddess's thoughts were consumed by visions of Suguru, her beloved musician. With each passing moment, her anticipation grew, like the rising crescendo of a symphony building to its climax. Despite the confines of her home, she felt as if she were transported to a world where only their love existed, where his music was the only language they needed to communicate.

As she gazed into the mirror, her reflection seemed to blur and fade, replaced by images of Suguru. She could almost hear the soft strumming of his instrument, feel the warmth of his voice wrapping around her like a comforting embrace. In that moment, time seemed to stand still, suspended in the ethereal realm where their souls intertwined through the power of music and emotion.

Each note that emanated from the depths of her imagination resonated with the deepest recesses of her heart, stirring emotions she had never known before. It was as if Suguru's melodies had become a part of her, weaving themselves into the fabric of her being and igniting a fire of passion that burned brighter with each passing beat.

In that fleeting moment, she found herself lost in the music, lost in the love that enveloped her like a warm blanket on a cold winter's night. And as she closed her eyes and let the melodies wash over her, she knew that no matter the distance that separated them, their love would always find a way to unite them in the timeless symphony of their souls.

Despite the fleeting moments of solace she found in the anticipation of Suguru's music, fate intervened abruptly with the return of her mother, shattering her hopes of experiencing his melodies firsthand. With her sanctuary disrupted, the goddess was left with naught but the echoes of his music reverberating in the confines of her chamber, a bittersweet reminder of the love she longed to embrace.

Yet, even as the physical distance between them widened, the ethereal connection forged through Suguru's music remained steadfast, transcending the boundaries of time and space. In the gentle strains of his melodies, she found solace, a soothing balm to the ache of separation that gnawed at her soul.

Though they were separated by circumstance, their love endured, undaunted by the trials of distance. For as long as Suguru's music played, it served as a lifeline, a beacon guiding her through the tumultuous seas of longing and despair, reminding her that their hearts were forever entwined in the eternal symphony of love.

‘Sing beautifully, great musicians!’ The king of Via Nova said that night that it was full of people. He raised his can of wine in front of Suguru. It was the king’s birthday so he sent all the people to his kingdom. The king looked at his wife. ‘My dear queen, what music do you want to hear?’

‘I cannot think of anything, my dear king.’ Said the queen back. ‘Everything our dearest Suguru sang was full of joy and beauty.’

The king's words echoed through the grand hall, filled to the brim with revelers celebrating his birthday. Suguru stood before them, a sense of humility and reverence in his demeanor as he faced the royal couple. Despite the festive atmosphere, a somber note lingered in the air as the king called upon Suguru to grace the gathering with his music.

With a heavy heart, Suguru bowed his head in deference to the king and queen, his voice tinged with regret as he spoke. "Your majesty, my lady," he began, his tone apologetic, "I fear that tonight, my voice fails me. It is not fit to sing for such a joyous occasion."

The queen's gentle words of praise for his music only deepened Suguru's sense of remorse, knowing that he could not meet their expectations. Yet, before he could retreat into the shadows of self-doubt, Flavius, a fellow musician, stepped forward with a gesture of camaraderie and support.

"Dear friend," Flavius interjected, offering Suguru a drink with a reassuring smile, "Let us raise our glasses in honor of our king's birthday. May this wine revive your spirits and heal your throat, so that you may grace us with your melodious voice once more."

As Suguru raised the goblet to his lips, a sense of apprehension gnawed at him, mingling with the bitter taste of the wine. His gaze shifted to Flavius, who watched him with a smile that seemed to hold a hint of mischief beneath its surface. Despite his doubts, Suguru knew that he could not refuse the king's request, nor could he let down the gathered crowd who eagerly awaited his performance.

With a deep breath to steady his nerves, Suguru drained the goblet in one swift motion, feeling the warmth of the wine spread through his veins like a comforting embrace. As he took up his lyre and approached the royal couple, he felt a surge of determination welling within him, fueled by the camaraderie of his fellow musicians and the supportive presence of the gathered audience.

With each strum of his lyre, Suguru poured his heart and soul into the music, his fingers dancing across the strings with practiced precision. Despite the lingering strain in his voice, he sang with a passion and intensity that captivated the listeners, drawing them into the enchanting melody that filled the grand hall with its haunting beauty.

As the last notes of his song faded into the air, Suguru met the eyes of the king and queen, his expression a mix of relief and gratitude. Though the performance had been a challenge, he had risen to the occasion, thanks in no small part to the encouragement of his fellow musicians and the unwavering support of the gathered crowd. And as he bowed before the royal couple, he knew that he had done justice to the honor bestowed upon him, leaving a lasting impression on all who had witnessed his performance.

As the tragic scene unfolded before her, the goddess could scarcely believe her eyes. She watched in horror as the three Parcae, the arbiters of fate, stood ominously behind Suguru, their presence casting a shadow over the joyous celebration. Nona, with her golden thread of life, Decima, who measured its length, and Morta, wielding her thread clipper, seemed indifferent to the anguish that their actions wrought upon the mortal realm.

"Goddess," Suguru gasped, his voice barely above a whisper as he crumpled to the ground, "help me."

The goddess pressed her hands against the mirror, her heart breaking at the sight of her beloved in agony. "Please, spare him," she pleaded with Parcae, her voice trembling with desperation. "He doesn't deserve this fate."

But Nona, Decima, and Morta remained unmoved, their expressions inscrutable as they carried out their duty without remorse or mercy.

The queen of Via Nova, her voice filled with anguish, cried out in despair, "Save him! Please, someone save him!"

Tears streaming down her cheeks, the goddess could only watch helplessly as Suguru's life slipped away before her eyes, the cruel hand of fate sealing his tragic demise. She longed to reach out to him, to beg and beg until her knees gave out at the Parcae to spare his life, but she knew that her cries would fall on deaf ears. With a heavy heart, she watched as Suguru collapsed to the floor, wracked with pain and sickness, his life extinguished by Morta's decisive cut.

Amidst the chaos and despair, the queen of Via Nova's anguished cry pierced the air, echoing the goddess's own grief and disbelief. The once vibrant celebration had been shattered, replaced by an overwhelming sense of loss and despair. And as the reality of Suguru's fate sank in, the goddess could only mourn the untimely end of a life filled with beauty, passion, and promise.

Flavius ​​killed him.

And did so with malice.

He was gone.

LIFE HAD LOST ALL ITS MEANING. The goddess's tears flowed like rivers, her heart heavy with the weight of sorrow and longing. Despite her divine powers, she was powerless to change the cruel hand of fate that had snatched Suguru away from her. The agony of losing him pierced her soul, leaving behind a gaping wound that no amount of time could heal.

In her grief, the goddess grappled with a tumult of emotions - anger, despair, and a profound sense of injustice. How could the Parcae, the arbiters of life and death, be so indifferent to the pain they inflicted? How could they tear Suguru from her side, leaving her to mourn his loss for eternity?

But amidst her anguish, the goddess also grappled with the bitter truth of their love. No matter how deeply she cared for Suguru, their bond was destined to be fraught with limitations. As a mortal, Suguru was bound by the constraints of time and mortality, while she, as a goddess, existed outside the realm of human experience.

Their love, no matter how pure and profound, could never transcend the vast chasm that separated their worlds. And though it pained her to accept, the goddess knew that their paths were destined to diverge, leaving her to carry the burden of their love alone.

No joy at the very end.

In the days that followed Suguru's passing, the goddess found herself consumed by an unyielding ache, a relentless longing that gnawed at her insides like a voracious beast. Despite her divine nature, she was unable to escape the searing pain of grief that gripped her heart in its icy embrace.

With each passing moment, the weight of Suguru's absence bore down upon her like a crushing burden, threatening to suffocate her with its oppressive force. She yearned to hold him once more, to feel the warmth of his embrace and the gentle rhythm of his heartbeat against her own.

Yet, even in death, Suguru remained beyond her reach, his mortal form consigned to the earth while she languished in the cold confines of immortality. The futility of her longing pierced her soul like a dagger, leaving her trembling with the agony of unfulfilled desire.

And yet, amidst the depths of her sorrow, the goddess found solace in the kindness of the king and queen, who had honored Suguru with a dignified burial befitting his stature as their favorite singer. Their gesture of compassion touched her deeply, serving as a beacon of light in the darkness of her grief.

In gratitude for their kindness, the goddess bestowed upon the king and queen her blessing, a gift of peace and pure love to accompany them on their journey through life. Though Suguru was gone, his memory lived on in the hearts of those who had loved him, a testament to the enduring power of his music and the boundless depths of his soul.

In the quiet moments that followed, the goddess found herself haunted by the echo of Suguru's voice, his melodic tones reverberating through the chambers of her mind like a haunting refrain. She closed her eyes, willing the memories of their time together to wash over her like a gentle tide, seeking solace in the sound of his voice that still lingered in her thoughts.

"Suguru," she whispered softly, her voice barely more than a breath. "I can still hear you."

The sound of his laughter, the timbre of his voice as he sang, it all played in her mind like a bittersweet melody, a reminder of the love they had shared and the loss she now endured.

"You were so full of life," she murmured, her heart heavy with longing. "How can you be gone?"

But even as she mourned his passing, the memory of Suguru remained a beacon of light in the darkness of her grief, a reminder of the beauty and joy he had brought into her life.

"I will never forget you," she vowed, her voice trembling with emotion. "Your music will live on in my heart, forever."

The goddess stood before the lifeless body of Suguru, her heart heavy with grief yet filled with a determination to honor his memory in a way that would transcend time itself. With a gentle touch, she closed her eyes and let her divine power flow through her, shaping and molding the essence of the man she had loved into something new.

As she worked, a sense of purpose filled her, driving her to create something beautiful out of the pain of loss. With each delicate movement of her hands, she fashioned the form of a bird, its feathers shimmering with the colors of sunset and dawn. And within its breast, she imbued the spirit of Suguru, his essence merging with the creature in a harmonious union.

When the transformation was complete, the goddess gazed upon her creation with a mixture of sadness and awe. The bird before her was a testament to the enduring power of love, a symbol of hope and renewal in the face of loss.

With a soft smile, the goddess released the bird into the sky, watching as it soared high above, its song echoing through the air like a melody of remembrance. And in that moment, she knew that Suguru would live on, not just in her memories, but in the very fabric of the world around her.

As long as she lives he will be with his beloved.

As long as nightingales sing, she will be with him.

She hopes one day that he comes to find her again.

thousands of years later, modern era;

SHE LIVED WAY TOO LONG SHE THINKS. In the vibrant chaos of Shibuya's bustling streets, the goddess found herself immersed in a whirlwind of sights and sounds that seemed to dance around her. Neon lights painted the pavement with kaleidoscopic hues, casting a luminous glow upon the bustling throngs of people weaving through the crowded sidewalks. Each passerby added to the symphony of the city, their voices blending into a cacophony of chatter that filled the air.

Amidst this vibrant tapestry, the goddess wandered, her senses alive with the pulse of modern Japan. The scent of street food wafted through the air, mingling with the tang of freshly brewed coffee and the faint hint of cherry blossoms. She drank in the energy of the city, feeling it pulse beneath her skin like a heartbeat that echoed the rhythm of life itself.

And then, like a gentle breeze stirring the stillness, a familiar melody drifted through the air, cutting through the noise of the bustling crowd. It was a song she knew well, one that resonated deep within her soul, tugging at the strings of her memory with a bittersweet tug.

Her steps faltered, her heart skipping a beat as she recognized the voice that carried the melody. It was a voice she hadn't heard in centuries, yet one that remained etched in her memory like an indelible mark. In that moment, amidst the chaos of Shibuya's streets, time seemed to stand still as she paused to listen, her senses fully attuned to the hauntingly beautiful sound that washed over her like a gentle tide.

For a fleeting instant, the goddess was transported back to a time long gone, a memory woven into the fabric of her existence. And as she stood there, enveloped in the music that spoke to her very essence, she couldn't help but feel a stirring of something deep within her—a longing, perhaps, or a yearning for a connection that had once been lost to the passage of time.

Frozen in place, the goddess felt a surge of conflicting emotions wash over her as she turned towards the source of the familiar melody. Amidst the throng of bustling bodies, there he stood—Suguru. But he was no longer the man she once knew. Time had etched its mark upon him, transforming him into someone almost unrecognizable.

His hair, once neatly trimmed, now cascaded down his back in a tangled cascade, pulled back into a messy bun adorned with intricate ornaments. His skin bore the ink of countless stories, tattoos that danced across his flesh like chapters in a book, each one a testament to the journey he had embarked upon since they last crossed paths.

And yet, despite the physical changes, there was something undeniably familiar about him—the warmth in his eyes that spoke of kindness, the passion in his voice as he poured his soul into the music that filled the air. It was as if beneath the layers of tattoos and piercings, his essence remained unchanged, a beacon of light amidst the chaos of the world around him.

With each strum of his guitar, Suguru wove a tapestry of emotions that seemed to reach out and touch the hearts of those who paused to listen. His voice, raw and untamed, carried with it a sense of vulnerability that spoke of a soul laid bare, unafraid to expose its deepest truths to the world. He still sang so beautifully. So wonderfully.

For the goddess, watching him from amidst the crowd, it was a poignant reminder of the passage of time and the inevitability of change. And yet, in that moment, as she stood there, enveloped in the music that flowed from his fingertips, she couldn't help but feel a sense of connection—a thread that bound them together across the vast expanse of years and distance, a reminder that some bonds were truly timeless.

As the goddess approached Suguru, her heart fluttered with a mix of anticipation and uncertainty. With a hesitant smile, she spoke up, "Excuse me, your music is beautiful."

Suguru glanced up from his guitar, his expression friendly but devoid of recognition. Her heart melted. "Oh, thanks! Glad you think so," he replied, his voice warm and genuine.

There was a pang of disappointment in the goddess's chest, realizing that Suguru didn't remember her. But how could he, when thousands of years had passed? Suppressing her disappointment, she continued with a smile. "I couldn't help but notice... you seem familiar to me. You remind me of someone.”

Suguru shook his head, his brow furrowing slightly in thought. "Hmm, I don't think we’ve met before. But hey, who knows? Tokyo's a big place, but it's surprising how often paths cross."

The goddess nodded, a faint smile playing on her lips. "You're right about that. Well, regardless, it's a pleasure to meet you. I'm just visiting from overseas."

Suguru grinned, a twinkle in his eyes. "Ah, a traveler! Welcome to Japan. I hope you're enjoying your time here."

"I am, thank you," she replied, her smile widening. "And thank you for the beautiful music. It's been a highlight of my trip."

Suguru's smile grew, genuine warmth radiating from him. "It's my pleasure. Music is meant to be shared, after all. Enjoy the rest of your stay in Tokyo."

With a nod of gratitude, the goddess bid Suguru farewell, her heart heavy with the weight of unspoken memories. As she continued on her journey through the bustling streets of Shibuya, she couldn't help but wonder about the twists of fate that had brought them together once more, if only for a fleeting moment in time.

She was happy that he was happy in this life.

She was happy her nightingale still sings.

And so she thinks she can walk away well.

Because her nightingale would live and sing.

Even without her by his side, he’ll be alright.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jjk fic #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk x you #geto suguru #suguru geto #geto suguru x you #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru x y/n #suguru geto x you #suguru geto x reader #suguru geto x y/n #getou suguru x reader #suguru x reader #suguru x you #suguru x y/n #geto x you #geto x reader #geto x y/n #getou suguru #getou suguru x you #getou suguru x y/n #getou x reader #getou x you #getou x y/n #jjk angst

[they-stare-i-ship]

I finished reading the atlas paradox

and now you're subjected to my SPOILERY thoughts.

Parisa Kamali: I love Parisa, I have loved her since the first book. I LIKE HER SO MUCH she's funny she's mean she's cool she's kind. She's incredibly powerful. She's so interesting and I really enjoyed how she slowly became "her royal softness". Whenever we have her pov it's so fun. I love how she's not scared of Atlas and how she challenged him. I can't wait to see what she does in the next book. I'm actually excited to see how Dalton has changed and how she reacts to them in the next book. Her relationship with Nico makes me so feel so nice. I also need her to be kiss Reina sometime in the next book.

Nico de Varona: he's been my annoying lil baby since the first book. I loved how he became more fleshed out in this book. I loved how lonely he got, his relationship with Reina and Tristan really intrigues me. HE'S SUCH A CHILD sometimes and I love him for it. Obviously I have spent the two books insane bc I knew he was in love with Gideon, I just knew it and they're just *chef's kiss* also speaking of his relationship with people, I think him and Libby will be stunning as besties, I truly cannot perceive them as romantic. They act so sibling like or even just asshole bestie like.

Reina Mori: when we started with this series I actually had more hopes from her. I feel like she didn't do much (especially in book 2) and my girl really doesn't understand communication. If she just talked to people sigh. But honestly her God thing, I am down. Go off, I'm excited to see her go off the rails bc people didn't talk to her the way she could have understood. I am low-key in love with how funny the duo of Reina and Callum is, tbh. I also get major ace vibes from her.

Libby Rhodes: honestly she was my second least favourite amount the six when we started. She desperately needed the corruption arc we got in the later half of the book. I think I will like her a lot more now. Her crush on belen was stunning to read. I can't wait for Libby to fuck shit up, literally fuck everyone up. And I genuinely truly deeply want her relationship with Nico to just be friendship. Friendships are equally as important and the fact that the universe made them parallel to eachother is my favourite thing.

Callum Nova: honestly I didn't really like him much during the first book, he was fine but we had more interesting characters. BUT DAMN CALLUM NOVA POST HEARTBREAK?? ~~ exquisite ~~ he's so fucking funny and hopeless and sad and pathetic. he is so desperate for love and so upset that he was denied it. He's my pathetic lil meow meow. Also I would LOVE to see him use his powers more in the future. As we keep learning about it, I keep loving him. Also I need Tristan to beg Callum to take him back.

Tristan Caine: actually I didn't enjoy his povs at all in the first book, I couldn't wait for them to be over. He is still my least favourite among the six but in the second book he was more interesting and fun. I'm a lil anxious of how Atlas is gonna use him and his powers. I don't care much of him but I want him to beg Callum or regret it for the rest of his existence. Also I hate LibbyTristan as a romantic permanent thing, they can fuck around and have fun but pls end at that.

Gideon Drake: I have loved him since day 1. He was the softer kinder balance to Nico's aggressive and abrasiveness. He is so interesting, his origin and his powers. I spent both the book wishing we had more of him. Now that we are out of the library maybe he'll get to play a more active role in the book. I am obsessed with Gideon (bc Nico is obsessed with Gideon) I love the tidbits we learn about Gideon like how Libby always liked him more or how max travelled with him for the rescue of the "prince". I want Gideon to have everything he wants, that's all.

Atlas Blakeley: I have been think of Giancarlo Esposito as Atlas the entire time. There's no explanation it's just vibes

Ezra: I'm glad he's dead 💖

#Reina mori #nico de varona #libby rhodes #tristan caine #callum nova #parisa kamali #the atlas six #the atlas paradox #the atlas complex #the atlas trilogy #the atlas series #olivie blake #lgbt books #atlas blakely #gideon drake #nicogideon #novacaine

[marketfreshfics]

Loving him: Sebastian

image: @starrysallow | More in this series: Ominis | Garreth (WIP) | Andrew (WIP) Includes mild nsfw content

Your love for Sebastian was always apparent; looking back now, it was abundant.

It’s a duel more of wits than spells, and he is the worthy opponent you’d craved crossing wands with. He’s a clever one, you realized, challenging your abilities with cunning finesse, goading you with a sharp tongue. Though you best him, he’s a good sport, even offering to accompany you to Hogsmeade for an errand or two.

It’s noticing how the afternoon sun brings out red tones to his hair, how he tries to keep up though he’s the escort, a playful tug on the hood of your robe to keep in-step.

It’s a midnight rendezvous in the library’s restricted section, sneaking close to him under a shroud of disillusionment, a hand on his back for guidance, warmth bleeding through his shirt. A close encounter is prevented with a firm tug of your sleeve, hiding face to face with bated breaths, with hearts hammering both for the fear of being discovered and for the sudden proximity.

It’s sitting across from him the morning after, his freckled cheeks a wash of pink, eyes warm and reminiscent of the coffee you sip. The clamour of breakfast time is rendered mundane din, the rest of the world vignetted around him. You’d never considered seeing the world through a gaze of affection like this, having scoffed at fairytales that depicted such folly, but now you’re not so sure.

It’s in the damp of a cave, the must of a tomb, eager to explore the unknown on a path towards a paradox of dark enlightenment. A moment of uncertainty brings you pause, a question of morals, of what is truly forgivable, but those eyes hold more knowledge than you suspect and he asks you to trust him. And in that moment, you oblige.

It’s evenings spent on his down comforter, books scattered about, dozing on his leg until he finds a passage that piques your interest. And his calloused fingers brush the hair wisps from your face, the earthy smell of ancient parchment clinging to the salt of his skin. Eyes meet, and an exchange of words is not necessary.

It’s what gives passion heat, and heat is all you understand in his embrace. It’s those exquisitely resourceful hands everywhere, gripping, tugging, attempting to caress though he cannot soften this all-consuming need. Its limbs that tangle of their own volition, a bed frame that creaks when he thrusts, and lovemaking so ardent it pulls the sheet up from the mattress. There are no hesitations here, only desperations. There is no doubt, only certainty. He’s a fierce friend, but as a lover, he’s never been more determined.

It’s following him with little regard for your safety, little regard for other obligations. Your heart is a foolish compass and he is magnetic north, though he guides you anywhere but home.

It’s watching him raise the dead from soil, all pulled up like roots, and caught somewhere in the fragile seam of fear and fascination, in awe of the downright awful. You wonder, as he stands surrounded by idle Inferi like some prodigal child of darkness, if you’ve underestimated him all this time.

It’s realizing then, when he felled his own guardian, that your underestimations knew no bounds. It’s running after him as he flees, frightened of the implications, of the circumstances, of the blood staining his hands. It’s not cowering in fear of him, but the sympathy you are quick to offer wholeheartedly, providing gravity when his world turned to hang in the balance. It’s reasoning his innocence to the law itself, seeing his guilt, the shame spreading.

It’s picking up the pieces after the fallout, reconnecting the bridges burned, plank by patient plank. It’s watching him grow, and with you he develops an understanding of the dark to counter it with light. He sees the errors of his ways, the forks of his path that led him astray, and you regret not having the foresight to divert him elsewhere.

But then, he shows you his love. Dedicated and devoted, the bond you’d forged unbreakable, built on trust. It was always there, waiting.

It reassures you. And it’s everything you want.

#sebastian sallow drabble #hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow #slytherin #hogwarts legacy drabble #sebastian #sebastian sallow fanfic #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian x mc #hogwarts legacy mc

[itsclydebitches]

Jonelias thought of the day is that Elias must come across as so stuffy and boring to those at the Institute - which, you know, very much helps hide his true nature - but as an avatar of the Eye and a man determined to avoid the End, Elias is someone whose entire being revolves around the interplay of knowledge and experiences. He's compelled to Know it all and his efforts to avoid death invite him to Experience it all too, a fascinating combination of passive observer and, by virtue of being a 200+ year-old in search of true immortality, an active participant too. This is a man whose longevity and thirst for knowledge invites an obsession with life that contradicts the 'Sits in his office doing nothing but spreadsheets all day' image he's learned to cultivate. (Though, to be clear, he does love the spreadsheets.) And I don't just mean "obsession with life" in the sense of him avoiding the finality of death, but actually loving the act of being alive.

I think a lot of what the fandom (rightly) jokes about in regards to his characterization is a reflection of that obsession. Elias has a relationship with Peter Lukas that goes far beyond the cold practicality of an alliance, hinting at a romance (if you steer towards a LonelyEyes reading), or just Elias' desire to still be able to place bets with someone while he's trying to end the world. Similarly, his powers ensure that he's never truly alone - if he dies, he takes the rest of the Archive with him - forever supplying him with a warped companionship that doesn't threaten him like he perceives he was threatened as Jonah Magnus, with his acquaintances working to complete their own rituals. In true Beholding style, he's got the heart of a fucked-up scientist who's endlessly curious about the world around him: 'Oooh what happens if I let my friend waste away in the Lonely?' He shows up at Jon's birthday party not just to secretly gloat and keep an eye on things (ha), but because he legitimately wants cake. Who wouldn't want cake? What's the point of living forever if you can't have cake?? Well, for an avatar the exquisite sweetness of fear is just as good, but my point stands. Beyond his fear of death, that enjoyment is at the heart of Elias' goal, with Jon describing his experience as the Pupil as a kind of agonized bliss and Elias confirming this by saying he was having the most wonderful dream. Morality aside, he likes interacting with the horror of the Entities, something we saw all the way back during the "[PLEASURED EXHALATION]" scene. Learning new things feels good. Experiencing news things is enjoyable. Learning and experiencing Bad Things is especially nice given his patron. Consistently, Elias' setbacks are met with interest, or a mild annoyance that then eventually settles into satisfaction because they are also new experiences for him and the Eye: going to jail, getting to psychologically torture Martin, having his own secrets exposed. There's a lot throughout the series to imply that Elias enjoys watching Jon become the Key, not just because it means he's succeeding in his goals, but because there's genuine interest and pride in seeing him "grow" by Elias' standards. The repetition of "our world," "our patron," etc. implies a connection; the intention to experience this new world with another, to enjoy it rather than simply exist in it for the mere sake of existence. Elias is a man whose entire essence boils down to, "I NEED TO KNOW ALL THE THINGS, EXPERIENCE EVERYTHING, AND LIVE FOREVER WHILE ACHIEVING THAT, TO UNDERSTAND IT ALL SO I CAN CONTROL IT ALL AND HAVE A DAMN GOOD TIME IN THE PROCESS, EVEN WHILE I SUCCUMB TO THE PRIMAL FEAR THAT DRIVES ME I WILL PARADOXICALLY EMBRACE IT, AND YEAH THAT'S LARGELY BECAUSE I SERVE THE LITERAL GOD OF JUDGY SURVEILLANCE BUT ALSO THAT'S JUST ME."

So anyway, I keep thinking about how this characterization could intersect with S1-2 Jon: prickly, awkward, semi-isolated, desperate to be recognized by someone whose authority he believes in. AKA the boss who, at an unprecedented young age, rose to the top of the Institute they both work at, perceived by those around him as far less interesting than he actually is. Parallels, anyone? Imagine Jon getting to really talk to Elias, realizing how much he has to offer after 200 years of life (though of course he doesn't know that), and just constantly being blindsided by not just the knowledge, but the enthusiasm for everything he's learned and been through - the good and the horrifyingly awful that, despite himself, Jon is equally drawn to. Elias recognizes every quote Jon drops into a conversation and has another witty line to pair it with. He doesn't just indulge his nerdy rambles, but participates in them. He's refined in all the ways that Jon expects - books, opera, music, etc. - and also casually drops in references to acid trips and fucking orgies. Imagine an early series Jon who forms a strong bond with Elias outside of the web (ha x2) he's been weaving, becoming dependent on his friendship and just a little bit completely in love. Elias is inherently fascinating, but he's also just Some Guy, and the combination of that is just perfect for a necrotic Archivist who simultaneously wants to be guided by his 'betters' and prove that he's an equal. Why Elias would be interested in turn barely needs stating: Jon is literally Elias' everything, in a horrifyingly tragic and like, Gothic Romance sense? What would that kind of relationship have changed? It would have likely made Elias' job even easier, but what about Jon?

...I'm not saying that Jon's drive to protect humanity would have been warped into something tragically dangerous if he'd first come to see his intelligent, complex, shockingly kind (from his nonexistent self-esteem POV), secretly-an-eldritch-monster boss as the epitome of humanity... but I'm also not saying it couldn't have!

#TMA #The Magnus Archives #Jonelias #this is so rambly I'm sorry #I'm just having a lot of feelings about these two #Jon deserves a corruption arc that he's convinced himself is a hero's journey #as a treat #also I keep thinking about Elias' refusal to define a human #and the Witcher line about Regis - a vampire - being the best of humanity #can a monster be human? #sure why not #especially when so many humans are already monstrous #I just want Jon to rule under a horrifically misguided idea of which humans are worth protecting #his wonderful desire to protect molded into not just the key that will end the world #but the thing that perpetuates its torment #as! a! treat!

[supervisormeero]

Boop.

“And your thought is that if we question the driver, we might find evidence of Mothma’s rebel sympathies?” Syril asks, staring down at his datapad. He waits. Dedra’s silent, so he assumes he’s not said enough; assumes he’s not shown sufficient intelligence to earn her answer. “Which could, in theory, lead us to… Axis?” he presses. “And Andor?”

He waits.

And waits.

She’s quiet.

When the silence has stretched for too long, he glances up to find Dedra’s chin nestled in the heel of her hand, her eyes closed. Her fingertips skim the tight strands of her blonde hair just above her ear. Every determined wrinkle has smoothed from her brow. Her mouth has opened slightly; her lips have parted with the subtle relaxation of sleep. It’s the third time she’s fallen unconscious in the midst of their surreptitious meetings in her apartment this week, so it’s the third time he’s been fortunate enough to sit across from her at the table and witness this beautiful, paradoxical side of her, like a flower sprouting between steel beams. Dedra is as soft when she sleeps as she is sharp when she’s awake. It’s impossible for him to rip his gaze from her.

And yet.

The last time he continued with his work and left her to catch up on hours of much-needed rest, she’d awakened, taken a half-second to adjust to her surroundings, and promptly snapped at him for “proceeding insubordinately in my absence.” She’d made it clear that her expectation was for him to wake her up, rather than to keep working out of respect for her well-being, and his stomach clenches at the thought that she might drag him down the hall and shove him out the door if he disappointed her again. As much as they both know she needs it, he can’t let her sleep.

And yet.

How is he to wake her? Shaking her by the shoulder seems even more insubordinate than continuing their work. Dropping his datapad risks startling her, frightening her. He’d rather shoot himself in the heart than leave this place of his own accord. For seconds that last eons he sits in the chair opposite Dedra Meero, painting her into the mural of his memory with the precise lines and manifold hues of a lovelorn artist, and ponders. Ruminates on all of the ways he might misstep and trigger an explosion. His heart thuds, and twists, and sprints.

Then, without thinking, he leans forward, extends his index finger, and taps it lightly against the tip of her nose. He doesn’t know when, or where, or why he learned the gesture. He knows it’s called a boop just as he knows the name, along with the thing itself, is riddled with impropriety. Inelegant as it is, it does serve its purpose.

Her blue eyes slit open as her lips suck in a short, shallow gasp of a breath. Her shoulders stiffen. She swallows. She pulls her head up, and then back. Proper posture, always. He watches fog churn in her gaze as she glances around the room, and he watches clarity sweep in to blow her confusion away. To free the sunbeams of her brilliance. A tinge of red blooms across her pale cheeks.

She fixes her attention on him, focuses on the outstretched pointer finger he’d dropped into his lap. Evidence. It’d never slip past her.

Her lip curls in exquisite disdain. “What was that?”

His throat tightens. “I… know you didn’t want me to continue on without you. I thought it best to, ah… employ a… less harsh method of waking you.”

Her glare is an ice storm, and he’s honored to sit motionless and freeze in place. “Try that again, Syril, and you’ll lose a finger.”

He’s booped his final boop, then. He nods.

“Of course.”

#has anyone else written boop fanfic or am i the only one who has gone that insane #anyway #enjoy #syril karn #dedra meero #keero #syril x dedra #andor

[figdays]

Drink Water Art Print by EXQUISITE PARADOX

#EXQUISITE PARADOX #print #art #art print

[peaches2217]

"I think I'm a woman," Luigi blurts out one night. He doesn't really mean to; he's sitting in bed with Peasley, who's flipping through this week's issue of Lentiltainment Weekly, and he himself has been staring at the same page of his book for the past half hour. This is a thought that's been circling through his head for too long now, he supposes. It's gonna lead him nowhere if he doesn't at least try to talk it out.

Peasley blinks up from his magazine. He looks surprised, but not at all unsettled. "Huh." He takes one last glance at the page he's on before setting his reading material aside, an action Luigi finds himself mimicking. "Are you thinking of changing your name, then? Of course, there's no rush if you haven't settled on anything. We can prepare the announcement in the meantime."

"...Announcement?"

"That you're to be addressed as Princess Consort moving forward," Peasley says, almost offhandedly, like it's the most obvious and casual thought in the world. "We'll make a feast of it if you'd like. Ah! How about I commission Madame Haricot? I'll have her tailor the most exquisite gown you've ever worn, adorned with the most brilliant of jewels! It's the least I could do for such an occassion."

Luigi almost forgets that his situation isn't quite that simple, because he's so grateful that this is the man he married, someone who so desperately loves him no matter his identity. But there is more to it, and that's something he can't ignore.

"It's not— I mean there's..." Luigi shakes his hands as he searches for his words. "It's not like 'Ope! I'm not a guy after all!' I'm... I feel like I'm definitely still a guy, but I'm also not, y'know? And I just... I don't know. I mean, am I a guy or a girl or what?"

Peasley, absently mirroring Luigi's nervous stim, hums. "Perhaps you're both," he suggests. And for a moment, something within Luigi's chest feels warm and light. It makes sense, at first blush, that he can't settle on one or the other because he's not one or the other, but—

"I can't be both."

"Whyever not?"

"Because..." and Luigi has to stop to find his words once more. To Peasley, to his entire species, such matters usually are as simple as Why not both?. After all, logic dictates that no living organism should be both a plant and a mammal, yet here's an entire species that is. When your entire existence is a paradox, everything else seems so straightforward.

On top of that, Beanish views on such matters as gender are quite lax, owing greatly to the fact that they're predominantly intersex. Babies are typically assigned either male or female, but many decide somewhere down the line that they're another gender, or some mix of genders, or no gender at all; a young Beanish person independently affirming their identity is as much a coming-of-age tradition as turning sixteen and getting your first car is in the world Luigi comes from. Peasley himself went through it, disagreeing with the gender he was assigned at birth and being re-crowned as a prince in response. It's incredibly common.

But they're Beanish, and Luigi is human, and just because he married into a society without strict gender rules doesn't mean he himself can adopt those rules. Right...?

"I don't know," he finally says, because he's not sure what else he can say. He's frustrated, because he wants the answer to be that simple, to be able to say he's as much one thing as the other, to accept himself as he is rather than try to figure out what he isn't. But he's just not sure.

"Well... it's okay not to know." Peasley kicks at the blankets covering their legs so he can more comfortably face Luigi and take his hands. There's warmth in his deep brown eyes, a warmth Luigi knows all too well yet is certain he'll never understand.

"I don't like not knowing who I am," he confesses. He's sure he sounds like a whining child, but the uncertainty so deeply rooted within him is agonizing.

"You're my Greenie." Peasley gives his hands a gentle squeeze, smiling softly. "We can figure out the rest as we go. Until then, that remains an unshakable truth."

And Luigi can't help but smile back, swallowing thickly against the threat of oncoming tears. He knows Peasley doesn't fully understand his uncertainties. They grew up in two very different worlds. But he knows how deeply affected Luigi remains by the taboos of his old world, and he can see that in the loving gaze across from him: the assertion of Even if I'm not sure where you're coming from, I'll be right here with you no matter what.

"...I can still commission Madame Haricot if you'd like," Peasley says after a moment, and something in his smile looks a touch more mischievous. "I'm sure a new gown will cheer you up."

"I'm starting to think you're offering more for your own sake than for mine."

"Well it's not my fault you're so exceedingly attractive!" And Peasley sounds so suddenly defensive, almost offended, that Luigi can't help but burst into laughter.

"Okay!" He tries to match Peasley's defensive tone, but he's laughing too hard to sound convincing, and that in turn breaks Peasley from his pouting spell. "Okay, let's do it."

"Oh, I was so hoping you'd say that!" Peasley cheers and pulls Luigi into him, and all at once his uncertainties are forgotten, at least for now. They'll be back, and they'll undoubtedly weigh on him, but no matter what, he won't be alone. No matter what, he'll be loved.

#super mario bros #smb #mario and luigi #m&l rpgs #luigi #prince peasley #luisley #luigi x peasley #I TOLD Y'ALL I was gonna pull some bigender luigi bullshit one day #and more beanish worldbuilding because I have now adopted them (yes I've adopted the entire species) #peaches has opinions #peaches' fancy fics

[sharpened--edges]

Decolonization is, put bluntly, the rematriation of land, the regeneration of relations, and the forwarding of Indigenous and Black and queer futures—a process that requires countering what power seems to be up to. To take effective decolonizing action, we must then have a theory of action that accounts for the permeability of apparatuses of power and the fact that neocolonial systems inadvertently support decolonizing agendas. […] Colonial schools have a tradition of harboring spaces of anticolonial resistance. These contradictions are exquisitely written about by the eminent novelist, literary scholar, and postcolonial thinker Ngũgĩ wa Thiong’o. He describes how the machine of British colonial schooling in Kenya produced a Black governor of colonial Kenya and, paradoxically, also helped to produce Mau Mau revolutionaries. Fearful that schools sheltered the Mau Mau, who occupied the imaginations of Indigenous Kenyans and settlers alike as he quintessential Black, violent resistance movement, the colonial state banned many of its missionary-inspired schools in the 1952 declaration of a state of emergency. This ban included the Kenya Teachers College, whose campus was converted into ‘a prison camp where proponents of resistance to colonialism were hanged.’ During the Mau Mau Rebellion, [Ngũgĩ] attended Alliance High School, a segregated, elite missionary school for Black Africans in British Kenya. And prior to that, he attended Manguo elementary school, which was banned for a time by the colonial government. How can colonial schools become disloyal to colonialism? According to [Ngũgĩ], the decolonial is always already amid the colonial.

la paperson, A Third University Is Possible (Duke University Press, 2017), pp. xv–xvi, summarising Ngũgĩ wa Thiong’o’s Dreams in a Time of War: A Childhood Memoir.

#la paperson #k. wayne yang #ngũgĩ wa thiong'o #decolonisation

[uwmspeccoll]

Staff Pick of the Week

I was in the stacks pulling another book when the title of this little book caught my eye—Old Loopy: A Love Letter for Chicago was written by American journalist, essayist, poet, and novelist Christopher Morley (1890-1957) and published in 1935 by The Argus Book Shop, Inc. in Chicago, IL. Morley was a New York man himself, but had a soft spot for the windy city, writing on the first page of the book that even "Here, in my own supreme hometown, I had a yen for old Loopy."

The book is very much a love letter to Chicago as is noted in the title, and Morley truly just waxes poetic about the city for 17 pages. On page 7 he opines:

"It is not my wish nor ability to offer a philosophic essay on Chicago. I simply want to tell her I love her. She is one of the few big towns that can be loved as an integer; a subtle unity holds her together, makes her apprehensible. It is partly her essentially provincial spirit; the deep inferiority complex which is so valuable to the artist, goading him to excess, both achievement and despair; and it is partly some underlying vein of rank vitality. The wild onion for which she was named (most Chicagoans have forgotten this) is an accurate symbol. An exquisite garlic of paradox is still discernible in her doings."

Half flattery and half slight, Morley continues, saying "Her curiosity is enormous, but it is social rather than intellectual" and that "In her bewildering charm intellect plays little part." He also compares the Loop to a noose, calls Chicago "unruly at heart" and "more than a little goofy," and finishes by decreeing that "She spikes the small beer of living with the pure alcohol of the impossible." Well, at least a little bit of that sounds good... I think.

Old Loopy contains ten photographs of Chicago by American photographer Guy Ederheimer, Jr. It also has a delightful bookplate from the library of we-don't-know-whom that features a man of many intellectual pursuits being interrupted by death. We wish we could see the whole thing, but unfortunately this book used to be in the circulating collection and has a library pocket glued over the bookplate. The cover is what I believe to be silk, with diagonal lines and diamond shapes visible when you move it as seen here.

-- Alice, Special Collections Department Manager

#Staff Pick of the Week #Old Loopy #Christopher Morley #Guy Ederheimer Jr. #Chicago #love letters #Alice

[kalitera-stin-erimia]

Lovecraft and Cosmic Wonder

"But the thing is, for Lovecraft, cosmic-existential horror wasn’t the whole story. Not by a cyclopean margin. In fact, a look at his overall body of fiction, and also his personal development as an author, and his various essays about life and writing, and the teeming ocean of thousands of letters that he wrote to a vast network of correspondents, shows that his focus on the cosmic horrific theme of existence-as-nightmare was balanced and complemented by a deep craving for liberation into transcendent realms of beauty and bliss. As I observed just a few days ago in my latest column for SF Signal, “Fantasy, Horror, and Infinite Longing,” this pairing of horror or terror with sehnsucht, the emotion C.S. Lewis identified as the “inconsolable longing” for “that unnamable something, desire for which pierces us like a rapier at the smell of a bonfire, the sound of wild ducks flying overhead, the title of The Well at the World’s End, the opening lines of Kubla Khan, the morning cobwebs in late summer, or the noise of falling waves,” is quite common among authors and artists, especially those working in the field of the fantastic. <...>

So Dream-Quest is fully as much about an exquisite experience of cosmic longing as it is about a wrenching experience of cosmic horror. The novel shows Carter yearning for an escape into a dreamworld and to a dream city of eternal solace and beauty, and being opposed by all of those nightmarish figures Tyson mentions. And it’s the recognition of this fact, not just in this particular novel but as it’s threaded throughout the rest of Lovecraft’s life and work, that’s missing from so much contemporary scholarship. It’s not that Lovecraft wasn’t about cosmic horror, but that he wasn’t all about it. Cosmic horror was wedded to cosmic wonder in his psyche. The one bled into the other. They were inextricably united as flipsides or complements in his affective makeup. Their paradoxical pairing was in fact the engine that drove him, since he was perpetually poised on the razor’s edge between perceiving the cosmic perspective as nightmarish and perceiving it as beautiful and liberating. This tension channeled itself into a burning desire to capture and convey both intimations in imaginative form, and the fact that the darker aspect has gotten more press than the lighter one in the popular and even the critical imagination, and has in fact become rote, is vaguely reminiscent of the smear-job perpetrated by Rufus Griswold on the memory of Edgar Allan Poe.  But in Lovecraft’s case it appears to have happened by accident, with, perhaps, some help from unsympathetic critics such as Edmund Wilson."

From Cosmic Horror and Cosmic Wonder: Revisioning Our Vision of H.P. Lovecraft by Matt Cardin.

#YES #that's what i kept thinking for the long time #he is about the sense of cosmic wonder as much as about cosmic horror #he even coined the name for it #“adventurous expectancy” #that is one of the things that makes his writing so powerful #that's why i feel like attempts to subvert him by replacing horror with wonder often end up so awkward #they are not as subversive as people think they are #lovecraft #h.p. lovecraft #cosmic horror #cosmic wonder #the dream quest of unknown kadath #donald tyson #biographies of lovecraft

[image-junkie]

Finally beginning to digest all that I saw at my first Miami Art Week. Kicking off this photo dump with these three lovely mixed media pieces seen at Untitled Art Fair:

Katrina Riesing, represented by Asya Geisberg Gallery:

Hollow Hold, 2023 | Swing, 2023 | Origins, 2023

All three are dye and embroidery on raw silk.

"At first glance Katarina Riesing’s dyed paintings on stretched silk and colored pencil drawings betray an infatuation with laborious detail and rich material - especially in the hand-embroidered gold thread, use of silk, or the exquisitely-rendered swirls of patterned stocking, seemingly inspired by a northern Renaissance luxuriance. Yet Riesing's insistence on close croppings, and awkward, unsightly or uncomfortably erotic aspects of the body, reveal surreptitious squirming. The confrontational intimacy of such compositions is paradoxically reserved, as Riesing’s otherwise recognizable depictions leave plenty unsaid. The paintings are made with dye on either crepe de chine or raw silk, a surface both akin to skin and a symbol of delicacy, sensuality, and opulence. To witness its desecration with alarmingly realistic excavations of the body's imperfections - its moles, rashes, scars, or pimples - is at once unsettling and pleasingly subversive. Riesing's works often have a play-within-a-play quality, where other forms of imagery are wittily in focus - tattoos of bodies, negative spaces that suggest caves or sunsets, patterns that form drawing within drawings, sheer garments that create a screen or veil. Riesing's drawings are quieter than the paintings but no less powerfully precise or oddly bewitching. With influences as disparate as Christina Ramberg, Sarah Lucas, or Ghada Amer, and imagery from medical illustrations of skin disease, to prison tattoos, stock photography, and pantyhose labels, Riesing has reinvigorated our relationship to the body, with equal parts seduction and brutality."

#mixed media #women in art #katrina riesing #silk #embroidery #fine art #mixed media art #abstract art #figurative #miami art week #untitled art fair #contemporary art