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#rubescence
huhl9yy93dqrwm · 1 year
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Xianna Hill curly teen ebony girl love interracial sex on tape Gay porn teens cute boys small and pinoy sex video bisexual He was LADY SONIA COMPILATION แอบถ่าย คู่ไฮโซ พากันมาเปิดห้องเย็ด Tight assed blonde has interracial gangbang Black boy teasing you and spanking his bubble butt Grandma fingers herself then FREAKS OUT at Porn Casting (Behind the Scenes) Milf With Really Huge Tits Banged Hard Follando ami ex Tory Kitty Get ThroatFucked on the Couch
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reginrokkr · 11 months
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Footprints are left in their wake one by one on the blanket of snow, step by step as Dáinsleif treads the grounds of unknown lands. No sight of humankind nor of any shape or form of any civilization left behind or human activity whatsoever. Only monsters he hasn't seen before, while they are reminiscent of Abyss-affiliated fiends judging by the powers they draw and sometimes the anthropomorphic form they have. As star beasts in Teyvat, these are no laughing matter nor deserve to let one's guard down no matter how skilled one may be.
The sheer cold and snow that never seems to melt begets curiosity within the seraph's mind, ever wondering about the ecosystem of this world and if that is the reason why there is no human life here— or perhaps there may be none at all to be had if humans don't exist in this place. Dáinsleif is cognizant of the fact that inhospitable lands can be incompatible with other forms of life, too.
Not long before he decides to rest does he see from afar metallic fences and machinery that he opts for walking some more and have a look, albeit never intruding into territory he doesn't know. Whoever or whatever created this, he cannot be sure whether they will act kindly within his presence. Where creations lay so must loom nearby their creators and ere long does Dáinsleif find out that said creators are humans. Good, so long as mankind exists in this star, so his possibilities to learn about this vast universe will increase.
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Rubescent lips part to heave a content sigh for such pleasant discovery and so Dáinsleif turns on his heels to leave. His aching muscles beg for rest, so does his mind after an undetermined amount of time walking and seeing little more than a vast albor ocean of snow. Somewhere discreet where he cannot be found yet not too far from the settlement is the chosen location to rest until a fox's cry causes his guard to be up once more, trained eyes in search of any presence that must've caused the tundra animal to be in distress.
Against his aching muscle's will, he rouses on his feet and searches for any living being activity within his vicinities. The source of the cry is found with immediacy as soon as a man's figure —judging by his muscular-looking back and broad shoulders— crouching catches his attention. With one hand he holds the poor fox in place while it struggles to thrash about in order to break free from his grasp and with the other snow is grabbed and brought to his lips. Despite the oddity of eating or drinking snow, stellar pupils take notice of a patch of blood making itself evident through the fabric of his top-wear on his arm.
❝You are hurt.❞ Only after these words abandon his lips does the seraph berate himself mentally at the prospect that the man may not understand the language. Even so, his voice stands low and gentle, tone does wonders to communicate feelings when language cannot establish a bridge of understanding. Dáinsleif ignores if what little fauna that lives in these snowy plains may be drawn to blood and thus put the man in danger, or if his life is endangered depending on the amount of blood that was spilled. His index finger points towards his own arm, pointing to the location of the other's injury to make himself clearer through signals. ❝Blood loss is detrimental in a place like this and I happen to have some medical knowledge.❞ One step brings him closer to the man, slow and measured to not generate hostility. His hand stretches towards him, an invitation. ❝Do you need help?❞
@longzhua ✦
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tetrisofficial · 1 year
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call me Carlson the way im Tuckered Out
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mybuddyjimmy · 11 months
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Rubescent
Rubescent [roo-BES-ənt]Part of speech: adjectiveOrigin: Latin, 18th century1. Reddening; blushing.Examples of rubescent in a sentence“My fair skin means I turn rubescent at the slightest hint of embarrassment.”“Sugar maple leaves turn rubescent in the fall.”
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astralnymphh · 4 months
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caregiver!ellie is sooo cute but wha about caregiver!reader…
i jus wanna play with her hair n tell her how amazing she is…😞
ughh anon ur in luck cuz I always had the perfect scenario for this in mind. a little tired rn but I'll try, so here we go!! SFW, bit angsty if you squint?? moreso sappy. ✰ . . TLOU UNIVERSE
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rust of blood, a scent that churns nostrils and sickens guts. that scent, nested in your nose as you led ellie into the bathroom, embossing crimson prints in each step. damn infected, right? cramming their ridgy fungi bodies through painstakingly set traps– little fuckers weaseled upon your property. nothing to fret about, els was there– as usual– to mow them down to the bone. but everytime, would return a person so done with this bullshit, her own bullshit. gushy assumptions that leave her feeling a tad peeved that she couldn't 'do better for you', when all she gave you was betterness, everyday. it's the little things that tick her off. the little things that sparsely matter to you.
"arms up." you asked, so brittle– so fine. fine on the ears roughened– reddened, scars prevail. with her wearied ass sat atop the baths' edge, you felt nothing waned from nurturing. that beaten freckled face, so preciously relying on you to care for her. ellie draws her arms up, stiller then bark when you tuck and pare her soiled shirt off, plaid pattern muddled by a likeness of bloodshed. you dip down, knees bound to a squat, popping her fly open and rolling the denim up and off her legs. els didn't really utter much. she was really tired, bone–tired. so, with the rest of her clothes messily assorted in a pile at your feet, you arise, guiding her with a shoulder tap. "c'mon–" the clear water welcomes her body, fingertips rubescent as they dig into the white tubs' edge, sinking in slowly. a soft grunt flows from her nose, water rippling as her elbows drift to her flank. you sidle upon a stool beside her, soaked rag in hand, it drips. the drops, they find their way onto els' spent skin of tender bruises. there's a certain breed of kindness that one's hands will pamper along the body of a lover, your hands, her body, a doting kindness. you swipe the rag up her scruff, taking gentle time on the groove where jaw and neck weave in flesh. she reciprocates in pleased buzzes, hums to show an unwaver of contentment. raggy bristles tickle her skin, running along the pistil pores, so smoothly– she just has to let you know, "m'not gonna lie, this is nice." and dreary lids flip to creased ones, uplifted by a fat–cheeked beam. a girl could used to this, after starving of its attention, for so long, years and tears hence. she adds with rasp, an irritated rasp, "fucking stupid of me for not checking the perimeters, m'so dumb, i should've–" she scolds herself, and you scold threefold– kindly, "infected, are fuckin' stupid. not you, babe." it baffles you to even hear her words of self–scorn perk on your ears, you affirm further, "you're so smart for even suggesting the traps in the first place, don't even say that." your available hand skids up her back, knurling knuckles in her pappy wet tuft and pressing a strand to your thumb, "never, say that." you repeat nimbly, lacking tone, pitching in breath. the strand you press, it oozes more drops like a squashed orange, pulping to your mold of it. she smiles wider, and wider, till finally– her teeth held in place. null troubles could sweep those cheeks of dimples. then her lips cleave, and that coral tongue begins to wag again, muttering, "fuck, you're so sweet." then, bowing her head in amusement of her words, she muttered softer than prior, "too sweet." a smile she lifts somehow further, bathwater wets her rosy cheeks– a glisten hardly unnoticed in dim candle blaze.
and what is encouraged beyond those words, is your velvet kiss to her wrist, catching and craning it up to meet your mouth. you sow it, palp it, suckle it, and squeak with a pop, surfing straight into your praise of, "but you're my sweet girl.." moseying the rag down the span of her bicep, mellowly.
"shut up.."
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(img from fulltimekardashian on pinterest)
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zal-cryptid · 24 days
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Hey Charles, I found out you and Dolly were one of the toys who tried to escape the island. If you can still remember what happened to you and the rest of the toys that tried to escape? (I would ask Dolly, but she doesn't seem all there at the moment)
It all began when the island was visited by a magical caribou with a rubescent nose, a Canadian explorer of the fortean frontier, and a transgender elf who aspired to be a dentist...
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Even after 85 years, it's still hard for him to talk about it. Sadly, he doesn't know what became of his other friends, but he hopes they were happy wherever they ended up...
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brailsthesmolgurl · 5 days
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Salvation
In another parallel universe, the legend was retold. The God of Sea and his bride has A heart so great that it holds the power to bring Lemuria back to its olden days glory. The bride however, is untouchable. If so, who is going to be salvaged?
Here comes the parallel universe ending! I know it was long awaited, but thank you for waiting patiently as all of my written stories are planned meticulously hence it takes up a LOT of time.
Read the start of this series: Damnation
Read the sequel of the Damnation: Retribution
Warnings: Angst, Spoilers for Rafayel Lore, Character Deaths, Gore and Blood (tbh its a common theme for this series already). A little bitty suggestive heh cause my hormones are raging for this man. Smol surprise at the end :)
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"Tomorrow marks the day." Rafayel's slender fingers ran through y/n's curls, a smile slowly stretched across her lips, her cheeks evidently turning rubescent under the moonlight's sheen. "Tomorrow is the day I shall bring you to visit Lemuria." The purple haired god laid next to his soon-to-be bride, on her bed, in her chambers. The thing he could do to her right here and right now were endless. And none of them involved any items of clothing. That was how much the young god was holding himself back.
The smile on her face never faded, as her small hands reached up to cup both sides of his cheeks, his face warm and soft to her touch. "I can't wait. Hearing all of those stories from you, no pictures nor drawings could possibly compare to the reality of seeing your kingdom with my own eyes." She said, eyeing Rafayel glistening under the moonlight, the shadow on his face does not cover up his ethereal looks. Rafayel leaned in closer to her, his breath mingled against her cheeks. "You know we should not kiss until tomorrow, right?"
Her reminder of the pre-wedding taboo made him grunted, his lips formed an immediate pout and he threw his head back, clearly frustrated. "I should be the one to ban such traditions next time." He grumbled, but calmed down to look at her when her hands cupped his cheeks again, thumbs smoothing over his chiselled jawline. "How could one possibly live with not kissing their bride the day before their wedding?"
His childlike remark made her giggled. "Your people had done it for ages, and I figured it would only be right if we were to go along with such customs. As I shall be the first mortal bride afterall. I do not wish to upset any of your merfolks." She raised her hand up, surrendering herself and Rafayel leaned forward to hug her tight within his arms. Laughters erupted from the both of them.
When they looked into each other's eyes, their laughters slowed down, mesmerised by one another's gaze. Y/n could barely believe that this very moment is happening to her. It felt like yesterday when she had rescued Rafayel from the sandy shores and released him back into the ocean after he had promised to return to her some day. Now, here they are, awaiting for a grand wedding tomorrow, an official bond to be tied between the God of the Sea and his mortal bride.
The once cherubic looking Rafayel had grown into the dashing young god he is today. With misty purple locks that are naturally wavy---although he constantly claimed that it was the sea water that turned it wavy. Eye colour a mixture of lilac purple and lapis blue, that could change colour depending on the lighting and his mood. A personality that not many can and would want to handle given his nonchalant-ness. Mixing in good looks and his non-chalant attitude, he is like walking trouble amongst mortals.
But she knew Rafayel better than anyone. She knows the way he talks, although condescending to some, she knows that he is not just a talker, but also a doer. He nags her over the smallest of things, be it her dress colour not matching her lip colour for the day or whatnot; she knows that he cares for everything, even for the smallest of details. He yaps like he knows what he wants and gives off the vibe of an independent individual, but deep down, he is just a needy young man, seeking for her constant comfort, validation, love and affection.
These are just some of the small characteristics of Rafayel that made her fall for him even more. She watched as Rafayel inched in, his lips aligned with hers. But before she got to utter a word, he quickly moved his lip upwards and pressed a big kiss onto her forehead. "If I could not kiss your lips, I would just have to settle for kisses on your forehead and cheeks then." He teased her and continued barraging her face with kisses. Their laughters for the night were endless.
Rafayel sat at the edge of her window sill, turning around to watch her as she was fast asleep, her brunette hair messily tousled all over the bed, but she looked picturesque, with the silvery moonlight painted across parts of her face and the steady breathing of her chest made her a living art in Rafayel's eyes. "I shall see you later, my beloved bride." Not wanting to wake her in her slumber, he dived into the water below.
...
"Your highness! Stop running so quickly!" The maid, Natasha cried out, struggling to keep up with the bride's quick feet. "Your dress might get dirty and unkempt! And I did not receive any other gowns from them!" Sadly, the maid was the only one who gave her blessing to y/n's marriage. The king and queen could care less as long as Rafayel kept their pockets loaded with gold.
"Come on Natasha, lessen the apprehension, would you?" The bride slowed down her footsteps and turned to flash her maid a wide smile. "Today is a big day after all and I know, everything is going to be alright." Seeing the bride's grin, Natasha sighed in defeat and trotted behind the bride, exhausted but still anticipating to watch the union ceremony.
When they arrived near the sea stacks, Natasha handed her a red velvet box. Upon opening the latch, the box opened to reveal a veil, one woven from silk that could only be harvested from sea anemones that grow in the far West, the ones that only glow during the winter times. The veil was translucent, with an iridescence of silver glow whenever the light refracted off of its material. The crown that goes around her head is made out of pearls that were harvested from oysters that could only be found in the southern region of the seas. Collected and crushed by the merfolks and infused with a rare blue gem that only Lemurians possessed to create the crown for the veil.
The veil shorts of nothing extravagant, as expected of the God of Sea's taste. Rafayel ensured that this veil was done 6 months prior to the wedding as he does not appreciate any mishaps especially when it is related to his bride. Y/n took the veil out of the box and she carefully placed it on top of her head, Natasha going behind her to dust off the excess sand off of the back of the wedding gown. She also took the time to adjust the veil behind y/n's head, wanting to make sure everything is in place before the ceremony begins.
"It has to be perfect. Perfect." She remembered the way Rafayel nodded his head towards her, spelling the word PERFECT to her just so she could understand him. But Natasha caught him the moment he said the first sentence. Although she just waved him off that time, she knew that on the day of the wedding, Rafayel is the last person she would want to upset. Who knows what would happen to her if she made him upset. The thought itself sent a shudder down her spine.
"How do I look?" Y/n turned to face Natasha and the maid's heartwarming gaze gave her just the answer she needed to hear indirectly. "I can't wait for this Natasha." She held onto the maid's hands tightly. Horns started blaring loudly and the two women looked towards the sea stacks together. The sun rise made the sea blended in with the sands on the shore, the saturated warm glow casted upon the surface of the waters a sight to behold indeed.
Trumpets and choirs joined in with the blaring of the horns and y/n knew it was time for her to present herself walking towards the sea stacks. "Your Highness, your bouquet. Don't forget it." The maid shoved a bouquet of flame lilies and the bride muttered a thanks, hastily holding onto the bouquet before she stepped out from the backs of the huge rock.
The appearance of the bride made the merfolks gasped in awe, the off-shoulder wedding dress was made out of fine silk, and it did a great job in outlining her bodyline and curves perfectly. Her dress cut off at the mid of her thighs, but a big ribbon was attached to her right hip, aiding in the aesthetic and transitional fabric from fine silk to a chiffon tail. The tail of the dress was completely see through, with droplets of diamonds sewn on it. The bride glowed under the ray of the sun and nobody could have dreamed of a better start to a wedding.
Rafayel emerged from the waters, in his mundane form of course, riding on top of two orcas and he was delivered right onto the top of the sea stacks. His clumsy stumble made her giggled, hands going up to cover her mouth. Rafayel donned a full white suit, with a swallow tail at the back of his tuxedo, his hair neatly styled, probably with the help of his people. And the left side of his pocket peeked a corsage with flame lilies, same as the ones she has as a bouquet in her hands.
Upon seeing his bride, Rafayel was enthralled at her beauty, his jaw dropping slightly ajar before one of the merman spit water at him thus he only managed to snap himself back to reality, glaring at the merman who spat at him as he reached up to wipe the stain off of his sleeves. Not like the water did anything to his outfit either, but he had to be sure of it. It is their big day after all.
"Ain't this my bride." Rafayel said confidently when he walked to the edge of the sea stacks, reaching out his hand to her, for her to take so he could guide her onto the sea stacks. "Careful, I do not wish for my bride to be unable to walk before the grand night tonight, yeah?" His wink made her face flushed instantly and she smacked his arm playfully.
Standing next to him, she felt like everything was set in stone for her finally. She got to marry the one that she had always been in love with and she will be one of the very first mortals to visit this forbidden land under the waters. "Here, we rejoice in each other's company. One of merfolk and the other of mortal." Amund, Rafayel's trusty friend took the opportunity to solemnize the wedding.
"This moment shall mark the first of its kind in mortal and merfolk's history. A reunion to be witnessed between the God of the Sea, Rafayel, and his bride, a mortal. y/n. Shall there be any objections towards this blessed reunion..." Amund trailed off, eyes scanning the crowd, both in the waters and the only human on land before he continued. "You shall not be entertained." His sentence took everyone by surprise and everyone shared an understanding laughter. "Hence, Rafayel, would you take y/n to be your beloved wife? Through all suffrage, illness and happiness?"
Rafayel nodded, facing her and confidently saying. "I will always say yes to that. For I will love you for ages to come."
"How about you y/n, would you accept the God of the Sea, Rafayel's intentions of having to love you through all?" You immediately nodded and Amund shouted. "This reunion is blessed, you may kiss the bride!" Rafayel's lip immediately pressed against his bride's, the kiss shared between the two erupted a huge reaction from the crowd. Claps and whistlings and shoutings could be heard from all directions. The choir then resumed its melody when Rafayel pulled back from her lips. "Y/N?" His smile faltered as he watched his bride's irises had turned into a shade of blood red, matching the same colour of the liquid that was oozing out of his chest, staining his white suit into crimson red.
...
Y/N jolted awake in her own bed, beads of sweat littered all across her face. Running her palms across her face, surprised that her face is cold to her touch despite the current season is far from winter. Reaching over to her bedside drawer, she fetched her goblet and drank the contents of it.
A couple of knocks could be heard from her oak door. "Come in." The door slowly opened to reveal one of the maids, Clarrice. The red head walked in, silver tray in her hand, ready to be served to the princess. She bowed partially as a sign of respect, then placed the tray by the highness' study table before she walked over to pull open the heavy drapes of the curtains to reveal the warm sun rays shining in from the windows.
"It seems like your highness has chosen to sleep in today, hence I had drawn your curtains whilst you were in deep slumber." Clarrice smiled, her pink thin lips a contrast to her pale complexion, brown freckles strewn like constellations on her face. Y/N sat on the bed, eyebrows knitted together, not being able to figure out why Natasha is not greeting her as per usual. Given Natasha was the maid that was specifically assigned to care for the princess.
"Have you seen Natasha anywhere?" The princess questioned, taking another sip out of the goblet in her hand. Milk cold to the inside of her mouth, when the princess had always been accustomed to warm milk in the morning.
"Your highness, Natasha was nowhere to be found within her chambers at dawn." When the maid replied, she watched the princess' eyes narrowed and nervously added on. "It seems like Natasha had left the palace in a hurry. All of her items remained within her chambers, including her uniform. All that was missing was her common outfit. She could have left for the farmers market?" The hesitation in the maid's tone does not sit right with y/n.
"You may head on with your day now. Thank you." The princess spoke promptly and the maid hurried out of the chambers. Placing the goblet back onto the bedside drawer, y/n started retracing the dream she had earlier on. All she remembered from her memory was her being at a beach...the beach near the sea stacks!
The princess catapulted herself off of the bed, still in her outfit. Her outfit. She did not noticed the outfit she had on while she was in bed. She is wearing a gown. Specifically a fancy one, one would wear for a wedding. Wedding ceremony. Natasha. Rafayel. When the pieces started to piece together, so did her heart rate quickened. Raising her hands to her vision, she caught sight of splatters of crusted liquid on her palms, a brownish shade with specks of what seems to be blue fairy dust.
Realisation hit her with a truck and she grabbed the rope and tossed it out of her window, sliding down it as fast her hands would allow her to, the pain of the rope burn unregistered into her senses. Guards at this hour were most likely deployed to their stations within the towers hence allowing her escape all the more easier. Once her feet touched the ground, she ran with her bare feet and went out through the gardens behind the palace that leads her straight towards the seas.
Her bare feet carried her past the sandy shores, the strong currents of the sea breeze accompanying her speed. Coming across the huge rock that leads towards the sea stacks, she slowed down her footsteps, seeing bloody imprints on the sand, foot prints that belong to a human.
When she came to the sea stacks, the scene in front of her made her heart stopped beating for a good while. There laid Natasha, on the shore, with a pool of red replacing her shadow. Some parts of her blood on the shore were darkened, a natural occurrence of oxidation of the bodily fluids. The princess screamed for her maid, her friend, and ran towards her, tears uncontrollably rushed down her cheeks. She turned the maid over, only to find the young maiden was covered in stab wounds all across her torso. "Who did this to you?!" She shouted in agony, pulling the deceased into her arms as she cried, while cradling her friend.
"Y/N...." A voice cut through her cries and the nightmare does not end. "Y/N..." Just when she thought she had to suffer losing Natasha, she was met with the image of the God of the Sea, her beloved husband, her forever lover, laid on the sea stacks, blood emitting from the side of his mouth, his eyes losing their usual glow as he tried to call out to her. "RAFAYEL!" The princess cried, laying her friend down carefully onto the sand before she rushed over to Rafayel's side, stumbling her way up the sea stacks and having barnacles cutting into her skin. Yet again, her physical pain were not registered to her senses as of this moment. "RAFAYEL!" Her cries were unstoppable now, eyes turning bloodshot as she pulled her lover into her arms. "What happened?! I will go and get help..."
As she wanted to stand up to leave, Rafayel grabbed ahold of her hand and she regained the memory of the actual cause behind the happening.
...
The vision was murky but she could clearly hear a conversation taken place between two individuals. It seemed to take place within a cave, a female figure, with a singular eel-like tail and a merman, were having a talk. "If she remains untouchable, your kind shall perish." The feminine voice spoke, long, crooked fingers holding onto a round, translucent ball with spikes on it. She seemed to be studying the ball as she spoke. "Eradicating either one might be beneficial for you, as long as the heart is willing to be given."
"Does this mean I have to kill off the God? With my own hands?" The merman spoke, hesitation laced in his voice.
"Do not fret." The woman chanted a spell and a blue pearl appeared within her fingertips. "The mighty gem of Lemurians right? Infuse this with the crown that you would be making for her and the spell shall happen upon their kiss of rejoice, as husband and wife." She handed the blue pearl to the merman and added. "At least now, you won't get your hands dirty."
The merman kept the pearl in his pouch then placed a huge woven basket in front of the woman, a compensation of sorts for her 'service'. The merman turned to exit the caves and y/n gasped when she realised that the merman was Amund.
Her vision then flashed forward towards the moment when she wore the veil. Upon kissing Rafayel, she immediately got possesed by an unknown force, but an entity of evil origins. A dagger was summoned into her hands out of thin air and she stabbed Rafayel right in the heart with it. Y/n screamed out, but her voice was muted, playing the role of a bystander as the vision continued unfolding itself. The God of the Sea was taken aback as he had never thought he would be killed by his very own sworn lover.
His eyes looked into hers. Pupils blown out of the usual proportion before he spat out blood, splatters of it hitting her wedding gown and her face, but the possessed bride was unfazed. Merfolks were horrified as they hurriedly scattered into the seas. For an entity so evil that dares to challenge the God of the Sea, the merfolks know that they are powerless against this possessed individual, be it a mundane. So they chose to flee, hoping that the warrior amongst them, the longest friend of Rafayel's, would come to the rescue.
But Amund just stood by the shore, now in his human form, as he watched the blatant massacre happening right in front of him. A small smirk creeped up onto his face when he knew right then and there, the future of his people are secured. The foregone of a God shall mean one or two of the foretold endings. The princess willingly sacrifices herself to save Lemuria as she knew how much Lemurians mean to Rafayel. Or Amund shall dig the heart out of her if she chooses to be selfish. All with the end goal of him being viewed as the hero, salvaging Lemuria from its end days.
...
The vision ended, with y/n in shock, eyes staring blankly at Rafayel's body in her arms. The God of Sea finally letting his tears run astray, flowing down his cold and blanched face when his bride slowly came to her own realisation. The young god had once told his bride about the specialty of her heart, for he had given half of his heart to her when they made a promise during their first meet.
That moment, Rafayel summmoned a small blue fish within his palms, stating that blue fishes are emissaries of the sea, but he lied partially, knowing the moment she wanted to release him back into the ocean, he had fell in love with her and was sure that she will be the one. Hence, a bonding vow was made without her knowledge, and part of his heart was given to her as a contribution of his love.
The princess turned out to be the bait, the bait to kill Rafayel when he least expected it, just so Amund could gain the heart of either the God or the bride and to return glory to Lemuria. But Rafayel, although wanted to marry a mundane, had never once thought of abandoning his kind. His plan was to bring her to live with him within Lemuria, and with both of their hearts within the vicinity of one another, it could restore glory to Lemuria and no bloodshed would take place. And obviously, this plan was only known to the God of Sea himself. As a God only does what is best for his people and his actions shall reap what he sows.
"Im sorry!" Y/N's lips are only wired to speak these two words, body shaking and voice hoarse, mentally and physically pained, watching the dying God in front of her eyes. "I can't do this without you, Rafayel." Her hands cupped his cheeks, his blood painting her palms in red. "Please don't leave me..." She continued begging. "I could never forgive myself...Please don't go...."
"I am here...I will always be here..." The bride's cries would not stop, eyes avoiding his as she knew that he was stating the opposite of what he actually meant. Until her eyes landed on the dagger that was laid beside Rafayel. The same dagger that she had used to stab Rafayel in his heart, and the same dagger that Amund had used to kill Natasha as to eliminate any witnesses. Rafayel's eyes caught on eventually, but with him on the verge of death, he was physically unable to stop her.
He watched his bride, with eyes widened in terror while choking onto his own blood, trying to form words. "I love you." Were her last words before she stabbed herself with the dagger, right into her chest as well, where his and her heart lies. What comes afterwards was her choking and simultaneously spitting blood right out of her mouth, a sign of her haemorrhaging.
If nobody could take his heart, she shall not give up hers as well. A smile of relieve dawned on her face, the rosiness of her cheeks gradually fading as crimson tears replaced the redness of her cheeks. For she is a mundane, she could not hold on any longer like how Rafayel did, as it takes a while for a God to be fully bled dry.
Her whole body fell limply, like a puppet torn from its strings, and her face landed right in front of Rafayel, forehead touching his. The last breath the God of Sea took, was surrounded by the sounds of the clashing waves, basked within the warmth of the sunrise, his lifeless eyes stayed open, tear streaks are the only colours apparent on his pale face, just like his bride's.
...
Hundreds of years had passed. Linkon city's renowned museum held a grand exhibition, displaying all there is for one to know about the hidden city Lemuria, and its people, Lemurians. The exhibition featured paintings, artworks, artifacts and even 'theoretically-accurate' skeletal structures of the Lemurians. As this exhibition, does run on nothing factual but relying heavily on theories and legends arising from sea explorers.
Y/n held an information pamphlet in her hand, browsing the exhibition before she stopped at one of the large paintings with the title 'God of the Sea'. The painting featured a merman, a tail with two fins for the bottom half of his torso, while the upper is made of a man. Her eyes glanced over at the God of the Sea's face, a fish head that looked all too similar to a sardine fish.
"Don't you think this artwork is suspicious?" A voice travelled from beside her, the tone of the sentence laced with disgust. "In fact, I think this whole exhibition is a total scam." Y/n turned her head to face the source of the voice. A towering young man stood next to her, wearing a white V-neckline shirt and paired with a pair of black slacks and black dress shoes, his midriff secured with a wide belt. "What do you say?" He turned his head to face her, his dusky purple hair matching the shade of his purplish-pinkish-bluish eyes. A smile evidently plastered on his handsome features.
"Who are you to say that?" Y/n crossed her arms across her chest, raising her eyebrows.
"The name's Rafayel." He confidently spoke, eyes glinting with amusement. "Anyways, mind grabbing a cup of coffee with me?"
... DUN DUN DUN!
And this shall officially mark the end for the pain! The story although still had mentions of angst and still caused some evident damage to your hearts, but I made sure I shall give you guys a good ending okay! Do not confuse this timeline with Damnation and Retribution as those are coexisting with this current timeline. SO yes! If you paid enough attention the details, the sea stacks... the sea witch blah blah..... IT IS ALL INDIRECTLY CONNECTED (depending on how you piece it based on your understanding). But yes, my story is written in this specific manner because I purposely wanted the worlds to be connected!
I really really hope you guys had enjoyed this series as I shall be writing more series as such in the future, either with Zayne or Xavier so please stay tuned for that!
If you could, drop me comments on what you think about this story as well! Even if it hurts you, makes you wanna smack yourself (pls dont do that), or whether it leaves you unfazed, I am nosy and I wanna know how this series has affected you mentally! Check out my other works as well on my page!
Wardrobe Malfunction ft LNDS boys
You forgetting a date with the boys *gasps in horror*!
Thank you for reading this series of mine. LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCHIES, MUACKS <3
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sigma-el · 8 months
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Sangre.
Very carmine.
Much rubescent.
Such rouge.
Bloody blood scarfed.
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thunderstruck9 · 1 year
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Eric Gadsby (British, 1943), Rubescence, 1976. Oil on canvas, diameter: 198 cm.
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Could I request George fucking you at a club hes djing at?
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pairing: george daniel x f!reader
content: corruption kink if you squint, pet names, hair pulling, teasing, unprotected sex 
wordcount: 1736
this blog is 18+. minors, do not interact. this blog is a safe space. no hate or disrespect of any kind will be tolerated. all work is my own. do not reupload my work on any other site without my consent.
a/n: everyone say thank u anon for this GENIUS idea <3 also sorry for the awkward ending i'm only good at writing filth
“y’know george, i’m starting to think you're a bad influence.” you yell your words over the loud thumps of the bassline, echoing from the speakers of the club george was djing at. you’ve stayed at his side all night, whether he’s in the dj booth or at the bar ordering drinks. alcohol always makes him clingy, and he’s got an arm wrapped around your middle, keeping you close as he presses buttons and messes with dials on the soundboard.
“what makes you think that, gorgeous?” he feigns disbelief, his words at a lower volume than yours. you turn to face him and realise he’s leaning down. even with your heels on, your boyfriend towers over you and the majority of the people in the dimly lit club.
“well, for one, you snuck me into this party. i’m not part of the rich and famous, george, it’s a bit crazy, don’t you think?”
the drummer laughs, and brings the hand that’s not wrapped around you down to his setup. his fingers graze over his laptop keys, and the bassline of whatever song he was playing gets louder. your head was hazy from the multicoloured lights and the feeling of your tree-like boyfriend standing so close. he looked good. he always does at gigs, when he’s flush with confidence and bathing in the intense strobe lights. 
george’s dark eyes met yours, “i’m so sorry angel, how dare i corrupt you?” his fingers squeeze your hip, and a lazy smirk creeps its way onto his face, “but you’re still here, hm? my favourite groupie.”
his eyelids are low, and suddenly you’re glad for the distance being the two of you and the partiers. you bring your hand up, dragging it over his broad chest and under his coat. 
“i’ll have you know that i’m here completely against my will.”
george grins, and the music transitions into generic club music - heavy synth, heavy bass.
“and that’s the end of my set. come get a drink?” 
your fingers lace with his, and you walk to the bar. once drinks were ordered and in hand, he’s crowding you up against the bar. you’re luckily in a relatively shadowed corner, so when he starts pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses onto your neck, you don’t feel the urge to panic. 
“you still here against your will, love?” george has a hand in your hair, gripping it to keep your head tilted so he has access to your neck. his other hand is on your waist, squeezing gently. a shudder runs through your body at his words and his breath, and you tug at his sport coat impatiently. 
“don’t play around,” you breathe out. 
“aw, feelin’ needy already?” he asked teasingly. “i haven’t even touched you yet.” 
“i swear to god i’ll leave, george,” you begin, pushing him away, “matty and an open bar is never a good combination, i wouldn’t be a good friend if i let hann deal with him again.”
george grasps your wrists, “hey, hey, hey! matty will be fine, let adam nurse him back to sobriety. ” he pulls you in close to him again, and adds, “patience goes a long way, angel.”
you huff, and move away from him. he blinks at you, confused until you turn, grab his hand, and stalk through the crowd to a bathroom. you can hear his grin when you shove him against the locked bathroom door, and he mutters, “someone’s eager.”
you let out a huff of air and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. when you tried to pull away, he held you in place; dark eyes flickering over your rubescent cheeks. after a beat, he pulled you close to kiss you, long and deep. george tasted like weed and whatever sweet drink he had ordered.
his hand makes his way to your hair, and pulls - hard. his lips meet under your ear, and demands, “turn around.”
it’s an instruction, not an order, said with a sort of off-handed, expectant authority that rocks you off balance. you’re turning before you even have time to process when he presses himself against your back, hands sliding around your waist, and you have to steady yourself against the wall. you can feel the drag of his lips against your skin as his hands roam over you.
george’s free hand pushes your dress up your thighs, the dark material bunched up around your stomach and leaving you exposed to him. letting your forehead knock against the door, you softly groan as he pushes your panties to the side, middle finger moving up and down your slit impossibly slow. 
your head buzzes each time you feel his rings nudge against your clit, the muffled bassline from the song playing outside the bathroom the only thing that keeps you grounded as he adds another finger.
your (very cruel) boyfriend chuckles at your needy gasps and whines, and murmurs “relax.”his nimble fingers drag your slick up to your clit, circling it softly. eyes squeezed shut in pleasure, you feel the muscles in your thighs tighten as he speeds up his pace. 
“oh sh-shit, just like that, george.” desperate moans leave your lips as he circles your bud, his fingers moving faster until you can’t do anything except flail for purchase against the door. flashes of warmth rush over your body like waves, the coil in your stomach so close to snapping—until he drags his fingers away from you. 
your eyes shoot open, “george!—fuck you, i was so close!” you cry out. 
your (bully) boyfriend grins and kneels to drag your underwear down your legs. gingerly, you step out of them, and his large hands manoeuvre you until you’re bent over the sink, his crotch rubbing against your ass. 
“c’mon, you didn’t think it would be that easy, did you?” his voice is condescending, head tilted to the side as he takes his sunglasses off and folds them, tossing them on the counter. his eyes glint beneath the dim bathroom lights, “need to see you cum on my cock. can i, angel?”
you nod frantically, meeting his eyes in the mirror.
outside, the music grows louder, the bassline reverberating through the wall and down your arms. you can hear him undoing his pants as he kisses your neck; leaving hot, open-mouthed gasps in his wake as you move your ass expertly on him.
george’s fingers move skillfully to loosen and unbutton his pants, and he watches you hungrily in the mirror. he gets his pants halfway down his thighs before he gives up, fingers moving to pull at the waistband of his briefs impatiently.
he reaches for your hips to yank you towards him, and pushes your chest firmly against the cold granite of the sink. as he leans over to lick and bite at the junction of your shoulders, you feel him line up to your opening and you open your eyes. george already has his eyes trained on you, watching your face as you feel him push in.
the stretch draws a low moan from your lips, and george watches the way your face contorts in pleasure as you take him all in. bringing a hand up to your neck, his fingers curl around the front of your throat and pull you up towards him. he takes the opportunity to yank you into a fervent kiss, the clash of teeth and tongue making him grin against your lips.
“takin’ me so well doll,” he mumbles against your lips, and grips your hips with the hand not around your throat as he finds a steady rhythm. 
“how’re you so—fuck, big,” you drawl, squeezing your eyes shut and letting george take what he wants.
"you feel so - " he starts, before letting go of your neck and pushing you down onto the sink, your cheek pressed against cold granite as george bites back a moan, “look at you, so fucked out.”
you take in a deep breath as your stomach tightens, “you made me this way, george,” you reply. “fuckin' corrupted me.”
he lets out a breathy laugh, and brings a hand between you and the counter. he runs his thumb up to your clit, and a broken sob escapes you as warmth blooms beneath your skin.
"always making me - makin' me come so quick."
"good," you breathe back, gasps coming out in needy pants.
george shoves his fingers against your aching core, and rubs you in tight circles as he fucks his cock into you. you’re panting into the counter; whimpering, whining, struggling to find purchase.
“ye - yeah, just like that.” you hiccup, feeling his fingers fumbling around your swollen clit, and the thickness of his dick as he stuff’s it into you.
the drummer's movements become sloppier, and he leans his body over yours, pulling up your chin to make eye-contact in the mirror. 
“so pretty,” he whispers. “you’re so fucking pretty.”
“ge-george.” your words are hiccuped. you feel so full, it’s hard to speak at all. to say other than his name, so you recite it like it’s the only thing you know.
“george, shit ” your words are punctuated with a whimper that starts from your diaphragm and crawls it's way out of your throat, pistoned by his hips and their gruelling ministrations. every breath that passes his lips is followed by a groan of pleasure. he's flushed, all sweat and shades of pink and red. his eyes are glassy, mirroring yours. 
he’s breathing hard against the crook of your shoulder, and when he makes this noise that's almost pathetic, that coil holding you tight, snaps and all at once you're gasping.
"shit - i-i’m cumming."  your walls flex and spasm around his length and george thinks he might pass out. you're still twitching and whining his name while he talks you through it, soft praise contrasting against his cruel pace. the sensation of your tight cunt is enough for him to cum right after you, warmth spreading inside of you as you hiccup, and try to catch your breath.
he stays there for a few seconds, massaging your hips with his fingers, sheathed in your heat, not moving. george leaned over to kiss your back, his hot breath burning across your damp skin. still panting, he doesn’t say anything, just pulls out as your legs tremble against the counter. 
george chuckles, looking at the mess dripping down your thighs, “i’ll clean you up, then we can leave.”
george chuckles, looking at the mess dripping down your thighs, “i’ll clean you up, then we can leave.”
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© 2023 justlikemebutsixfootthree - all rights reserved. do not copy, translate, modify, or claim as yours
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fatuifucker · 2 years
Note
People replying to heizou birthday fanart by r34 of the fanart ON THE OFFICIAL ACC, its so funny I swear to God 😭😭
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heizou x gn reader (no specific dom/sub dynamics)
SUMMARY = giving his birthday treat under the table
WARNINGS = smut, oral (reader giving), office sex, slight exhibitionism, they/them pronouns used for reader
W/C = 0.5k
A/N = I wrote this during a heavy storm, it was really nice and relaxing :) I love calming storm days
TAGS = @midnxght-sweet-time, @zen-daydreams, @edenialucas, @urcatbf, @nejibot
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Heizou quivers; quivers like a lone leaf on a branch in a blustering Inazuman storm. His cheeks are hot, a lovely rubescent red tinting his cheeks while the corner of his lips twitches.
“Soo are you hanging out with (Name) later?”
The detective stiffly nods. “Yeah, I thought it would be nice to catch up with them since I’ve– hgh, b-been busy with investigations lately. You should see the number of cases I’ve taken on this… week."
“Ohh that’s why you are acting all weird today!” the voice exclaims, snapping her fingers. “Paimon was wondering why you’re all red and shaky today. Still, Paimon didn’t think you were the type to overwork yourself like this.”
“Oh, so you’ve noticed?” He forces a laugh. “Sorry, I didn’t want to make you worry. Besides, (Name) will…ahem, take care of me so I’m in good hands.”
Oh he is in very good hands.
“Did you purposely get yourself sick so (Name) would care for you?” the Traveller spoke, dismay in their tone.
“Now, now, isn’t it perfectly normal to yearn for your lover’s attention?” The detective forces another laugh. “S-speaking of which, I should get ready. I don’t want to keep them– mmm, waiting.”
“Alright, we won’t hold you any longer! Thanks for the book, Heizou!”
The door clicks shut and the room goes quiet. Heizou flops over his table, groaning as he clings onto the edges. Underneath it, a person chuckles in amusement.
“Lying through your teeth while you’re cumming in your lover’s mouth? What a smooth talker you are, Doushin Shikanoin.”
“Hey, it’s your fault for making me cum while they were there.” The doushin playfully glares at you as he wipes the residue off the side of your mouth.
“You lent them the novel, huh?” you ask. “I’m glad, I really liked that one.”
“It’s boring.”
“Well, naturally getting blown is more exciting than any novel.” You rolled your eyes before taking Heizou’s tip in your mouth.
“Always so brazen, my (Name).”
“Says the one who asked me to give them a blowjob under the table,” you hum as you take him completely, sending the vibrations down Heizou’s dick.
His body shivers, still sensitive from his previous orgasm. You spare him no mercy, bobbing your head up and down his cock — wasn’t too big yet wasn’t small either — and batting your eyelashes at him. He feels hyperaware of the way his blood is rushing down all at once, his dick throbbing in your mouth as you drool all over it. Archons, he loves it when you put on a show.
“(Name), if you keep doing that I’m– mmm! G-gonna cum again…” he pants, stroking your head to urge you on.
Heizou clings onto the slide of the chair, arching back as he nears his limit. He blows his load in your mouth, and you moan at the salty taste on your tongue. A mixture of spit and semen surges down your throat as you swallow with loud gulps for extra effect. A pop resounds in the room as you detach from his cock, a devilish grin present as you stuck your tongue out.
“Hehe, good job,” Heizou purrs as he picks you up on his lap. “Now, why don’t we continue this at home?
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spinmeround · 5 days
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Rubescence by Timothy C. Tyler
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reginrokkr · 10 months
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Tag dump #?:
◟༺✦༻◞ tears of life; chasers of withering death┊dáinsleif × yìng xīng.┊ ◟༺✦༻◞ lunarescent lyratum. ┊aria of the swords┊ ◟༺✦༻◞ rubescent impermanence. ┊aria of the swords┊ ◟༺✦༻◞ solarescent lycoris. ┊aria of the swords┊ ◟༺✦༻◞ lapis tranquility. ┊aria of the swords┊
◟༺✦༻◞ may your sorrow be washed away with tides deliverance; o' mighty dragon ┊neuvillette → apocryphis.┊ ◟༺✦༻◞ let luminous feathers dance under sapphire rain of justice┊dáinsleif × neuvillette.┊ ◟༺✦༻◞ angelus dracōnem nancīscitur. ┊aria of the celestials┊ ◟༺✦༻◞ conflit d'identité. ┊aria of the celestials┊ ◟༺✦༻◞ when reason to be shines through. ┊aria of the celestials┊
◟༺✦༻◞ may one day the oceans know the joy of your return; o' leviathan ┊neuvillette → scyathan.┊ ◟༺✦༻◞ o σεραφείμ συναντά αρχέγονες ηχώ.┊aria of primordial stars┊ ◟༺✦༻◞ ηχώ της αναγέννησης.┊aria of primordial stars┊ ◟༺✦༻◞ το φως λάμπει πάνω στον ευγενή.┊aria of primordial stars┊
◟༺✦༻◞ perpetual fighter of nocturne terrors ┊xiao → apocryphis.┊ ◟༺✦༻◞ spirit of greenery life and wisdom ┊nahida → apocryphis.┊
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yuikomorihotline · 1 year
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Can we have Yui ballerina headcanons love?
𝔜𝔲𝔦 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔅𝔞𝔩𝔩𝔢𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔞
Note: I'm not a ballet expert so I'm getting stuff wrong here and these make zero sense 💅💅
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Yui started ballet a bit later than most girls. She was ten, and frankly one of the clumsiest and uncoordinated girls her instructor had the misfortune of teaching. Her joints were untrained and weren't durable in the least. They took damage easily, which wasn't the best quality.
Since she was exceptionally determined for her skill to be on par with her much more talented peers ( who've been practicing the art since they were 3 - 4 years of age) and ended up practicing at home quite often. Her dedication to improvement made her that much better than the other girls.
Yui got so good that she moved up a few grades. Her movements were delicate and swift, her rhythm was nothing short of perfection, and above all, she was reasonably confident in her ability to do ballet.
She was one of the top six junior ballet dancers in the country, ranking number five on the list.
She usually came second or third place in every competition she's been in, but she came in first place when she was fourteen, and after that victory, maintained an incredible track record of countless victories up until she was fourteen, when she began to work with a company ( after them begging for her to work with them for years )
That company was supposedly the best in Japan, which had a myriad of resources for young actresses, singers, dancers etc. They even had a special facility for traditional arts. The competition in the ballet section was cutthroat. These girls were the best of the best in the country and they wouldn't hesitate to kill one another for a single opportunity.
But Yui was always so kind and thoughtful to everyone, and always hyped everyone up because they deserved to know how amazing they all are! Which unfortunately, made the others scowl at her, and call her two faced. Even her new instructors encouraged her to be more vicious with them.
She quickly realised how competitive the art was, and that her personality wasn't meant to tear down others, or to demean people who were obviously just trying to succeed and to prove themselves as skilled individuals who deserved an opportunity.
Yui was very easy to work with, and could take criticism without scoffing, rolling her eyes, displaying any type of passive aggressive behaviour or sulking. Sure, being criticised constantly by her peers and instructors really upset her, but she kept going. She learned to ignore people without being rude because she rightfully believed that her health was above the petty opinions of her jealous peers.
One of her biggest pet peeves was breaking her shoes in, and having to take constant care of her feet and legs. She once brought her dance shoes to the woodwork room in her highschool, and asked the teacher to try to break them in… He broke them, but not in the way intended. Since that happened, she just whacks the shoes on any hard surface she could find and stretches the shoes out.
She would never train in fancy gear. She just tried to find any loose clothing she could find and that would work. The other men and women at the company would always have gear exclusively for ballet, which was too expensive for someone who had a priest as a father. She only wore a black polyester leotard that she found in a charity shop, and one of those thin and translucent pink wrap-around ballet skirts, ( which had a few bleach stains and stains from brown shoe polish from the original owner ) along with her then shoes which was destroyed by that teacher.
Yui's hair was always pinned in a bun, which came undone quite easily, given how active and energetic she was. Wisps of her platinum hair would fall into her face in less than fifteen minutes of practice, which was annoying, considering she was spitting out hair everytime she did a turn or a jump. Her cheeks were rubescent with a sweet pink blush and beads of sweat trickled down her brow. Her face would flush from the dizziness, and she would always laugh when she stumbled or made any mistake.
The people at the company were a bit older than her, the ages ranging from sixteen to twenty seven. But she learned a lot from them. Things like how to maintain her posture, keeping her muscles well maintained, and how to prevent foot blisters. And honestly, they worked.
Her biggest ambition was to play in the productions of Sleeping Beauty, The Nutcracker, and Giselle. The biggest dream of most dancers was to play the main characters of those particular productions. But Yui really wanted to play Giselle for the enticing plot and dreamy choreography. She could look past how demanding the whole performance would be.
Yui did the most graceful turns and jumps, her jumps being more resembling a swan soaring by a river. Her limbs were lithe and nimble, so those kinds of movements were more doable for her.
Basically, she gives her best performances if she just shuts off her mind, then it'll all come naturally to her.
She loved watching the men's jumps, because they reminded her of a frog leaping or a bird taking flight.
One of her favourite male ballet dancers is Ivan Vasiliev. Yui and one of her male peers would fawn over how talented he is and how they aspire to be even half as good as him.
Oh how she despised the pointework. They wore out her feet in less than twenty seconds, but she tries to up her stamina in this field. She looks at ballerinas like Megan Fairchild and wonders how on earth she can keep up the pointework for that long.
At age twenty, she began to compare herself to others when she started dancing professionally. Yui did really improve throughout the years, and she clearly had no shortage of talent.
When her troupe started performing more complex shows, she was usually dancing in the background and watching the lead in the spotlight. She watched how the audience was so enthralled by her beauty, and her movements. But deep down, she wished that it could be her who was impressing everyone. Her pointework would never be as good as hers, her turns and balances would never be as good as hers, her jumps would never be as good as hers either. And she'll never get to wear the exquisite, handmade costumes or the last and rhinestone trimmed slippers.
That didn't stop her from trying her best though. Yui wanted to try to get noticed by a bigger company or troupe before she was to retire. She wasn't that ambitious to try to get into the best companies in Paris, Russia, The Royal Ballet- That was just daydream material to her.
Trying to get into Takarazuka Revue crossed her mind a few times. But it wasn't at all impossible for her to get accepted.
She was in a rut for some of her early twenties, because it seemed to be impossible to play the lead at this rate. No matter how amazing she was, she'll never be chosen to play Giselle. Her biggest fear of becoming a washed up child prodigy, which is what she became. Yui got comments on how she shined more when she was younger, how she was falling into the background more and more, and how she'll never get to play anyone of importance. Yui was sick of wearing the dull attire that the rest of the body wore, because she didn't work so hard to be cast aside, she was much better than that.
She would pray and pray for change, and would beg God to gift her with the skill or characteristics to play any lead. Her talents shouldn't fall into the background, yet that was what was happening to her. Sometimes she felt like a knight sent on an impossible quest by some flippant to try to earn a shiney princess' hand in marriage. She's better off sorting a massive pile of grains, or doing the same twelve impossible tasks Heracles did.
Yui Komori, of the finest ballet troupe in Japan, simply wanted that much more for herself. Her only wish was to not fade into the background, yet it allowed it to happen. Ballet will always be Yui's first love, and final heartbreak through her unattainable aspiration for recognition and validation.
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classicalshorts · 1 year
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Three shades of red!
What a lovely wormy colour your walls are! And what a hue of flesh is your carpet.
Okay, so these don't exactly sound very complementary.
Welcome to the second entry in my series on colour words derived from Latin and Greek.
Had I said, 'what a fetching shade of vermillion' or 'what a lovely carnelian hue' about your various bits of furniture, you might have been more flattered.
A glimpse at the derivation of these words will explain the rather peculiar remarks that opened this short article.
Vermillion comes via the French vermeil from the Latin vermiculum meaning 'little worm', the worm from which the deep red dye our vermillion hue derives. So, 'wormy' when referring to colour, is a complement. Who knew?
Carnelian sounds much more poetic than flesh. Carnelian is also a fine red gemstone (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Carnelian). But, it ultimately derives from the Latin for 'flesh', caro and also carnis, undoubtedly because of its red hue. Hmmm.
Finally, I come to the rubescent bride. This is more complementary, but might leave your wedding guests scratching their heads about this rather old-fashioned term for blushing. It comes from the Latin rubesco 'to become red, blush'.
So, if the Latin for red (she says, adding some festive flavour) is ruber, rubra, rubrum, the Latin for nose is nasa, and the Latin for deer is cervus, the festive character:
cervus nasa rubra (the deer with the red nose)
IS....
RUDOLPH!
Thank you and 'to all a good night'!
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CHERRIES AND ROSIE CHEEKS🍒
Summary: a sunny picnic day described in the most observant and artsy way ever.
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Sunday afternoon picnics had always been your favorite. Especially when it was with him. Your beautiful boyfriend. He was everything to you. A boyfriend, a lover, a soulmate, a friend, everything that surrounded the word love was adequate to describe what he was to you.
There you were, lying down on the vintage tablecloth you had brought. Your head resting half way on the cloth and on the grass, feeling each strand tickle your face as the wind blew them towards you. Your eyes barely open from the raw sunlight shining upon you. A feeling of tranquility welcomed you when you felt the warmth of the sun on your skin. Life was good. You had your legs sprawled on top of your boyfriend’s, who was quietly reading a book.
Relentlessly you sat up, with only one thought in mind, cherries. They were your favorite fruit in the summer. The sweet taste and the dark pigment appealed to you in some strange way. You smile, seeing your boyfriend still so invested in his book, not paying attention to you. His inattentive state made you take the opportunity to stare.
His features were so concentrated. Brows furrowed, eyes examining the words as he read, lips slightly parted. God did he have pretty lips. You could never stop thinking about them. They were so beautifully shaped, so perfectly colored, and oh so tasty. You couldn’t get enough. His hair, dark brown indoors, but seemed rather lighter here in the sunlight. It was tucked behind his right ear, making way for him to comfortably read. A strand fell almost in front of his eyes, shaping his gorgeous face. His fingers, ever so often swiped the pages across in a graceful manner. Slender in their form, they sometimes danced across the pages, marking where he was reading. "What?"
Too focused on his hands, you hadn’t noticed that he was now looking at you.
"We’re you staring at me?" He smirks, nose scrunched and eyes slightly closed by the sun.
"Huh, no .. I was.." you hesitate. " what are you reading?" You ask changing the subject.
"It’s "just kids" by Patti Smith" He said showing the cover.
"Oh, yeah, that book is one of my favorites." You smile.
"I know, that’s why I wanted to read it.." he admits.
You blush looking up at him lovingly.
"And I understand why it’s your favorite. Because of the beauty of her writing, the artistic drive that her and Robert have, together, as lovers, and best friends. A way of life driven by art and music. That’s exactly you. " he smiled.
"Yeah." You smile back happy with his response.
"Just wait t’il you get to the end.." you add.
Going back to what you sat up for, you reached for your tote bag and took out the cherries you had brought. Happy face on, you opened the container, and picked one up between your fingers. They were the perfect shade of red. Dark and mysterious, yet bright and shiny under the sun. In your world, you placed the cherry between your lips, biting it. Eyes closed, you savored the long awaited flavor of the seasonal fruit.
Hyunjin POV:
I couldn’t help but to put my book down when I saw my beautiful girlfriend. She was so ethereal. In her own world, savoring cherries as if it brought the most joy to her. Such simplicity in the action, yet she seemed to find it extremely joyful. I watched curiously as the red pigment tinted her pretty lips. Rightfully so she gave them a lick, erasing the beautiful shade she just had on.
When she reached down to pick another cherry, I stopped her as she was moving it to her mouth, and took it in between my fingers. I shamelessly bit into it slowly, seeing her freeze and look at me. I chuckled before approaching the half eaten cherry from her lips. Slowly, I stamped the rubescent crimson down on her bottom lip. She parted her lips looking up at me without professing. I glided the small berry across her lips, to tint them fully. I smile at my work. Leaned down and kissed her. Slow, and meaningful. We pulled away, still inches away from each other, both our faces lit up with rosie cheeks and love stained lips.
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