#and the flower pattern is like velvety and it’s so beautiful

[zero-caloriememes3]

My senior prom is in two weeks and I’m so excited!! I’m absolutely in love with my dress. I got it for €6 on vinted! Here’s a picture of it, though it looks a lot better irl:

Maybe if i’m not feeling too shitty about my body, i might post a picture the day of the prom with it on.

[solxamber]

hello!! I really love your writing and if I may, may I request malleus with m/gn reader who can make plum blossom petals from the tip of his sword? The petals are as sharp as a knife(If you're confused you can search '24 plum blossom sword technique' <3) and the reader challenged him into a spar, and if you can can you make the reader from RSA?? Thank youu!!

Malleus x 24 Plum Blossom! reader

I read return of the blossoming blade a long time ago and I got really excited when I saw this request. I kept it gn, I hope you like it!

You weren’t sure if anyone had ever willingly challenged Malleus Draconia to a spar before. As a student from Royal Sword Academy, you knew better than most about the reputations of the magical creatures who lurked within the halls of Night Raven College, but you’d never been one to shy away from a challenge.

After all, you were known for your own swordsmanship, a master of the “Twenty-Four Plum Blossoms Sword Technique,” a skill passed down to you within the walls of RSA—impressive enough that you were confident in your abilities. And if anyone could handle facing off against a fae prince, it was you… probably.

That didn’t mean you weren’t nervous, though. It wasn’t every day you sparred with someone who could probably incinerate you with a sneeze.

No pressure.

You’d heard all about Malleus Draconia: heir to the Valley of Thorns, rumored to be one of the most powerful magicians in existence, and, well, a fae who could turn you to cinders if he felt like it. Still, when you caught wind of his presence during a diplomatic visit between Night Raven College and RSA, you couldn’t resist the idea of testing your own strength against his. He wasn’t just an ordinary opponent—he was someone who could truly push you to your limits.

So, naturally, you challenged him.

And, even more naturally, he accepted.

Malleus stood before you, his own sword elegantly drawn, as if he were preparing for a leisurely dance rather than a potentially dangerous spar. “You’re certain about this?”

“Of course,” you say, though your voice betrays a slight tremble. “A little sparring never hurt anyone… right?”

Malleus smirked, his fangs just barely showing. “Very well. I shall not hold back.”

The wind gently stirs around you as you grip your sword tighter, focusing your magic. At the tip of your blade, soft, plum blossom petals begin to bloom, swirling gently at first before they solidify into sharp, knife-like forms. The blossoms scatter in the air like a dangerous flower storm, and you smirk with satisfaction. Beautiful and deadly, you think. Just like me—

But before you can finish your thought, Malleus gracefully side-steps a flurry of petals with the ease of someone avoiding a pesky mosquito. His calm, amused smile remains as he raises his sword, parrying your next wave of attacks with frustrating ease.

“Is that all?” he taunts lightly, his voice so smooth you almost forget he’s mocking you. Almost.

Okay, plan B.

You spin on your heel, twirling your sword, and send out another barrage of petals. But this time, you angle them in a way that forms a dazzling, seemingly random pattern. You notice Malleus’s gaze narrow slightly, as if trying to follow the chaotic movement. Perfect, you think. He’s confused.

“Are you… trying to impress me?” Malleus asks as one of your petals grazes his sleeve, leaving a thin cut. He looks down at the tear in his clothes, amused more than anything else. “Because it’s working.”

You stumble slightly at the compliment, nearly losing your footing. “Wh-what? No! I’m just trying to win!”

Malleus chuckles softly, the deep, velvety sound sending an unexpected warmth through your chest. “Then allow me to show you a counter.”

He waves his hand, and with a single, smooth stroke of his sword, he sends out a dark, glowing mist that swirls around your petals, dissolving them in a flash of violet sparks. You gape at him, trying to figure out how exactly you were supposed to compete with that level of magic.

“Impressive technique,” he remarks, taking a leisurely step toward you. “But perhaps a bit too gentle for someone of your talent. Why hold back?”

You glare at him, trying to ignore the fluttery feeling his proximity is giving you. “I’m not holding back,” you huff. “You’re just… impossible to hit!”

Malleus hums thoughtfully. “Then allow me to make this more… interesting.”

Before you can react, Malleus vanishes in a puff of magic, only to reappear directly behind you. You jump, your sword slipping slightly in your grasp. He leans in, voice a low murmur near your ear. “You dropped your guard.”

Your heart skips a beat, and in a moment of sheer panic—and possibly stupidity—you react instinctively, swinging your sword behind you. Plum blossom petals explode from your blade, swirling around the both of you in a dizzying flurry.

Malleus raises an eyebrow, not moving an inch as the sharp petals brush against his skin. “Ah,” he says, almost leisurely, “plum blossoms. How charming.”

You blinked at him. Charming? You were trying to defeat him in battle, and all he could think to say was that your deadly technique was "charming"?!

"I—what?!" you sputtered. "You’re not supposed to enjoy this!"

"Why not?" he asked, his smile deepening. "A spar can be quite enjoyable."

"Not for me!" you huffed, sending out another wave of petals. "I’m actually trying here!"

You try to focus on the fight, but it’s hard when Malleus is so infuriatingly calm and… well, handsome. You force yourself to snap out of it. Focus, focus!

Your petals scatter once again, and you curse under your breath. This was supposed to be a serious spar, but it’s turning into a flirty back-and-forth, and you’re not sure how to handle it.

In one final act of desperation, you let loose a massive wave of petals, sending them spiraling in every direction, hoping that at least one of them will land.

But instead of fighting back, Malleus raises a hand, and the petals slow mid-air, gently floating down like harmless flowers. He steps closer to you, his eyes glowing faintly with amusement.

“You’re holding back,” he says softly. “But I won’t.”

Before you can comprehend what he means, Malleus swiftly disarms you with a quick flick of his wrist, sending your sword clattering to the ground. You stand there, momentarily stunned as he gazes down at you with a smirk that’s far too pleased for your liking.

“I believe that makes me the victor,” he says, his voice a soft purr.

You glare at him, trying to mask the growing heat in your cheeks. “Fine, you win. Happy?”

Malleus steps even closer, so close that you can feel his breath against your skin. “Very,” he murmurs. Then, with a surprising amount of gentleness, he reaches out and brushes a stray petal from your hair, his fingers lingering just a moment too long.

You swallow hard, your heart pounding in your chest. “I… uh… I guess that’s fair…”

He chuckles softly, his gaze lingering on you with an intensity that makes your pulse race. “Perhaps we can spar again sometime. I find our duels quite… stimulating.”

Oh no. Oh no, no, no. Your brain short-circuits for a moment, and you can barely form a coherent response. “Y-yeah. Sure. Spar. Again. Totally.”

Malleus gives you one last, knowing smile before stepping back, his form disappearing into the shadows as effortlessly as he arrived.

You stand there, swordless and blushing like a fool, as the petals from your own attack flutter gently to the ground around you.

Great, you think, mentally kicking yourself. Not only did I lose, but now I’m probably going to be thinking about that smug dragon fae for the rest of the week.

Still… when you glance down at the petal he brushed from your hair, you can’t help but smile.

Masterlist

[kimuby-am]

Rosie’s Care

Hi, this is my first fan fiction, i hope you can enjoy reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it.

English is not my first language, so feel free to DM me any correction.

Title: Rosie’s Care

Pair: Alastor/Rosie, Platonic RadioRose

Summary: Alastor shows up in Rosie’s apartment feeling quite off and circumstances lead to unexpected confessions.

Word count: 4,318

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rosie waved charmingly as her last customer walked out of her emporium, her soft smile revealing how tired she was after a day of work: being the overlord in charge of Cannibal Town wasn’t an easy task, but she always pride herself at the sight of her immaculate city. Despite it being filled with blood thirsty cannibals not a droplet of blood could be seen in the streets, every piece of meet was sourced from her emporium and consumed in the privacy of their fancy houses.

Rosie leaned on the counter for a second before regaining her composure. She took out a keychain from a drawer under the counter. The keychain was a small dried head adorned with roses and beads, a cute little gift given by her first husband when she opened the emporium; the sight of it almost made Rosie think if she were too hard on him when she killed him during a fight over her “role as a wife”. The keychain held a small golden key. Rosie put the small key in to the lock of the front door and before twisting it she glanced at the empty shop, searching for any intruder, then she closed the door and turned the elegant sign on the door from “open” to “closed”. She took the key and put it back on the drawer, letting out a small sigh signaling that her day was finally over.

At the left corner of her shop there’s a spiral staircase that lead to her small apartment over the emporium. One could think that an overlord like her would live in a big mansion, of course money wasn’t a problem, but living alone for the vast majority of time Rosie found herself enjoying much more the small and cozy rooms of this apartment making her rent al her other houses to the new cannibals arriving in hell. Once on top of the small metallic staircase she faces the beautiful wine red door that leads into her apartment, wood carved with roses and elegant patterns. She elegantly took another key from her sleeve held by an elegant ribbon to her wrist.

The inside of her apartment is a triumph of red, white and bordeaux intensified by the reddish hue of the sunset.

She couldn’t even relax for one second that the smallest off sound made her alert, sending shivers down her spine, not quite understanding what could it be. She took off her shoes and not letting out a sound, she approached the noise. The more steps she took the more the sound was clear. It was a song covered in heavy static. She let out a heavy sig in relief, there was only one person she knew that could enter into her house unnoticed and play soothing jazz. “Oh my stars, Alastor!” She chirped amused by the presence of her best friend, adrenaline still running through her veins from the worry she had before. The demon did not respond to her cheerful greeting. She raised an eyebrow in confusion, still approaching the sound coming from the living room. She heard a distinct click and the song changed. Was her friend sleeping? She knew Alastor well, and she remembered from the few times he let himself sleep in front of her that he shuffled through Radio stations during his sleep, mirroring his mood. But this time was different, the static was so strong she could barely hear the songs played, something was a bit off. She wiped away does thoughts as she finally decide to enter the living room: it is a pretty large space with an armchair opposing a small couch both covered in a soft velvety brown fabric, the walls are decorated with an elegant rose themed wallpaper where was hung a painting made by her of a skull with a pretty red flower. From the ceiling hung a terracotta pot from where seem to fall a beautiful green plant with big leaves in stark contrast with the dominating red ambient. In the centre of the room is positioned a red and black carpet resembling a mandala motif, on top of it a small table. The light source of the room is a huge window now covered with thick black curtains that didn’t let even the smallest sunlight ray to seep through it. Fortunately the light from the room she was coming from was enough to let Rosie analyze the scene.

She saw a red hoof coming out from the side of the armchair. She chuckled in amusement as she couldn’t quite understand in what position her friend was lying, but at the same time she couldn’t shake off the thought that something was off. Alastor wasn’t one that lost composure even in front of his best friend.

She finally stepped in front of her friend, a small smile rose in her face as she ate the scene before her with her big empty eyes: the mighty radio demon was crunched on the small brown armchair, the right side of his body was pressed against the armrest where lied his right arm, head tilted to the side resting on his shoulder, pressure creasing his lightly red tinted cheek making him look soft. His right leg was extended on the opposite armrest, while the left leg was folded, his hoof picking out of a small gap between the seat and his other leg, left arm gently rested on his body. His overcoat was hung on the human bone hanger he gifted her when she chose to live in this apartment. His bow tie was untied and his hears were gently pulled behind. Alastor was a monster to everyone that hadn’t had the pleasure to know him, but to Rosie, especially in this moments, he looked rather cute and harmless.

Rosie was looking at him for almost five minutes and when she noticed it she couldn’t help but blush, if Alastor could see this scene he wouldn’t let go the opportunity to joke about it.

With cat like steps she got in to her bedroom.

Rosie’s bedroom is dark and oppressive, walls are covered in wine red wallpaper, the forniture is made in ebony and her queen sized bed is covered in black silk sheets. The room small and crowded is set in a way that makes navigating through ti easy. The bed stands glorious in the centre of the room, at its left there’s a bed side table with a rose shaped lamp and a book on top of it, at its right a desk towered by a big mirror framed with a golden metal giving the illusion of a big virtual space.

The wardrobe stood at the right of the door, modest and filled with sober outfits. Opposing the mirror a big door window, covered in black curtains, that lead to a small balcony from where you can see all Cannibal Town.

She opened a drawer from the wardrobe and took a dark red blanket. Rosie was swinging around her house without making even the slightest sound, trying to not wake up her friend. Once returned in the living room Rosie stood under the sunlight for a moment, admiring Alastor sleeping another time: his soft hair, his immaculate skin and the way his lips curled into a soft smile. Rosie let out a small sigh finding herself watching the demon again with that emotion that didn’t want to leave her; she couldn’t deny she fell in love with Alastor a long time ago and she believed she got past it, but when she looked at him like this she couldn’t shake the sparkle of feeling in her heart.

She opened the carefully folded blanket with a swift and elegant motion, putting it on top of his friend, gently tacking it around his body. Alastor didn’t move while his sleeping brain continued shuffling through various radio stations. She moved behind the armchair caressing the soft velvet with her fingertips, reaching his head. Her fingers were interlaced with his soft locks. She leaned forward and pressed a kiss on top of his head, her lips were gentle and warm; Rosie felt like she could hear the trouble inside the Radio Demon’s head and She hope she could take out some with every little act of affection.

Rosie exhausted by the day and all those emotions tried to walk to her bedroom once more seeking the rest she deserved, but two black shadow tentacles grabbed her e pushed her on top of Alastor who let out a loud squeak like a little fawn. He enveloped her with the blanket she gave him chuckling all along while she was struggling to escape “Alastor, let me go” she let out a little laugh, they were playing. “Ahahah! Never going to happen” he said, but surprisingly Rosie managed to escape Alastor’s grip with a few pulls. Alastor wasn’t the kind of person to let others win so easily even in this kind of silly games, this made Rosie worry even more “dear, is everything all right? I was hoping our little game of prey and predator lasted a little bit longer” she say purposefully mockingly, if she wanted others information she couldn’t let herself show worry for him; “everything is splendid my dear” Alastor dismissed her question rapidly, a red tint was blooming on Alastor’s cheeks. He was panting softly and his forehead looked glistened, even if it was difficult to see due to the lack of light inside the room. A strange worrisome puzzle started to form inside Rosie’s mind. Now it was time to put on a clever play. “Oh Alastor, I’ve missed you sooo much” she said putting on a cheerful facade “let me give you a kiss”, she leaned forward making clear the intention to press a kiss on his forehead and he waited for it with eyes closed ready to savor the moment. Her lips touched his skin as gentle as a feather, she could feel the intense heat coming from the demon and the worry came out full and clear in Rosie’s next words “oh my goodness Alastor your very hot” he lightly chuckled in response ignoring the strong sense of worry in her words “now now Rosie, this is an inappropriate comment to make”, she rolled her eye before replying “you know that’s not what I meant, you clearly have a fever”. Alastor let out a long long sigh shrinking in is chair, his smile gently softening “i’m afraid you’re right my friend, i’m feeling quite off…” Rosie gave him a tender look “and then you came here so no one could see you like this…you know, the Hazbin Hotel is a safe place for you too, maybe if you just let go with them like you do with me-“, he interrupted her “NO Rosie I CAN’T” there was some kind of disperation in is voice, eyes like radio dials ticking away. Rosie stood there in silence while a guilty look appeared on Alastor’s face “I’m sorry, i didn’t want to…it’s complicated, i know i said i was getting accostumed to them, but they aren’t like you…you’re more than a friend to me…we’re like…partners!”. Emotions stroke Rosie’s heart like an arrow and a deep red blush rosed in her cheeks while she was trying to avoid eye contact at every cost but after a moment she regained her composure “Alastor, you flatter me sweetheart” a tinge of sadness in her words “you know, we should really go to sleep, you can stay here if you want”. Alastor let out a light static noise “can i sleep with you?” The sudden question made Rosie blush even more, she knew Alastor for almost a century by now and every now and then he had is affection episodes, but he never suggested to sleep together. “Of course dear” she said softly, offering a hand to him to get up. He took it and got up.

Alastor could feel his head spinning and sight blurring, legs threatening to give up beneath him, so he stood there for a minute before taking the first step toward Rosie’s bedroom. He dropped himself on the bed with all his weight causing it to barely move. “I’ll take an ice bag, maybe it will help you lower your temperature” Rosie said with a gentle smile. He loves her smile, it reminds him of his mother’s. “No please, stay here Rosie” he said, almost whispering, conjuring an ice bag with a small movement of his hand, “sweetie, you should not use you’re powers in this state, just rest please” she said while gently positioning the ice bag on top of head. He chuckled a little bit “i’m not a kid, i’ve been sick other times”, Rosie raised an eyebrow and replid with a smug tgrin on her face “then why you came here? You could’ve picked an empty room if you wanted to hide from your hotel friends”. He felt the heat rise to his cheeks another time, his thoughts swirling in his head while trying to figure out why did he go there on the first place, but thinking of going in any other place, even in his room alone (without her) enveloped his heart with a sense of unease, it didn’t felt right, his reaction to the sickness was pure instinct. He tried to play it ‘cool’ “I just needed a distraction to shake off this fever, nothing more”. Rosie put on an hungry face and a gave him her back while going to the bathroom to change in her nightgown “Sorry to disappoint, but I’m very tired, i won’t provide any ‘distraction’, feel free to leave if this isn’t what you needed” SLAM! She sclosed the door behind her emitting a loud noise that made Alastor’s ears twitch in disconfort, his had bursting from all the thoughts: why he always had to turn everyone down?

At this point he was barey smiling. He put the ice bag on the bedside table and stood up from the bed, legs barely holding his light weight, managing to reach the bathroom door leaning on the walls.

He let his weight drop hitting the door with his back, the impact generating a gentle thud. Then he slid down to the floor. “I’m sorry Rosie…i didn’t mean to offend you” his voice was barely audible, “but you did Alastor” she replied harshly. His head hurt even more from all the noise of the thoughts in his mind: how to apologize with his best friend? Should he say the truth? Should he make up another lie?

Thinking was hard enough at that moment and making up a good lie required a lot of thinking. Another wave of pure guilt hit him even harder then the pounding of his head. For the first time in his afterlife lying wasn’t an option.

He took the biggest breath he could “listen Rosie, i’m really sorry, you mean a lot to me, i know i’m not the best of friends…you’ve always been here when i needed it…but you can’t say the same for me…and then i show up and offend you just to save me from the embarrassment of admitting that i need help, that i don’t want to stay alone…that i want to stay with you…” his heart was racing at this point, moved by a new emotion, one that rose after admitting to himself and her that he wanted to stay with her. The silence was unbearable, at some point the idea that she wasn’t even there, slightly touched his mind.

“Oh dear boy, you’re not a bad friend…i know that it can get hard for you to understand feelings, but i’m glad you said you like my company” she opened the door making Alastor fall on his back, he tried to push himself from the ground, but his energy was completely drained at this point. She leaned down and took him bridal style “shall we go to sleep now?” He nodded lightly with heat crawling to his face “you shouldn’t have left the bad anyway…” Alastor sighed, hi lips curled in to the softest smile ever “i couldn’t let you think i didn’t care about you”. Rosie couldn’t help but smile at this little revelation, of course she knew that Alastor cares about her but she couldn’t deny that her hearts crave reassurance.

Rosie gently dropped Alastor on the bad, that’s when he saw Rosie in her nightgown: a long black silky vest with elegant red hand sew details, it looked almost too good to be kept inside the bedroom, he couldn’t stop thinking of how beautiful his friend looked. “Now now Alastor, what’s with all this staring, i hope you can’t see through clothes, do you?” She said teasingly and Alastor once again could feel pervaded with embarrassment. With a swift movement he turned, back facing Rosie. She raised an eyebrow. She lightly touched his shoulder “my dear, you’re really sensitive and i’m not sure it is the fever’s fault…are you alright Alastor?”, he turned to face Rosie eyes locked to his hands fidgeting with the buttons of his shirt “i find you very beautiful Rosie” his voice was tender and soft.”Is that what made you upset?” She said a little bit confused, he didn’t say anything, eyes still down “never mind…You’re quite handsome too my deer friend” she said softly, cupping his cheek with one hand. After some minutes of silence passed watching the ceiling and caressing his friend’s hair Rosie spoke again “can you not conjure up something more comfortable to wear for the night?” He slowly made a no with his head “i’m afraid i have no energy left, i can barely move”, Rosie looked at him like the next thing she was going to say was illegal “i don’t mind if…you know…if you slept in your underwear…at least you’ll be comfortable-“, “but i don’t want to make you uncomfortable” he interrupted her “i insist Alastor, it’s not like i haven’t seen you in your underwear already”, “context matters more than anything my dear” he said desperately, Rosie had a severe look in her eye “how can you heal from this fiver if you can’t properly rest? You also need to lower your body temperature and all those layers aren’t doing you any favor” he proceed to open his mouth to reply…but she was right, he needed to heal fast to return to the hotel without raising any suspect. He let out another long sigh “ok Rosie, you won, but I can’t do it all myself…would you mind giving me a hand?” She let out a soft chuckle, stopped caressing him and booped his nose “there’s no problem” she could feel her face turning tomato red but couldn’t turn her back to her friend.

She sat next to him and helped him unbutton his shirt and his pants, then she gave him support tu raise enough his bust to take off the shirt and vest. His pants slid off easily. Both sides were embarrassed, friends should not do this things, but they were like no others friends, they were more…but not like Rosie would’ve hoped a long time ago.

They both fell asleep shortly after, the night going smooth like silk as they both were exhausted.

Rosie was the first to wake up, only to find out that Alastor was hugging her. She felt the warmth of his skin on hers, time marked by his gentle breathing. He looked so peaceful and innocent under the soft light of the sunrise seeping through the heavy curtains. Alastor surely was more then a friend to her and she was slowly realizing that; it wasn’t like the crush she had before for him, before knowing he’s ace. That desire that burnt in her was extinguished a long time ago. Now, after almost a century, after various failed marriages, she needed something different, something she can feel only with Alastor, but on the other hand she also feels the need to be open about her feelings for him and this is where doubt threat to suffocate her…how could her friend possibly take her feelings for him? She knew very well how complex he is, how every interaction with others inside his brain is twisted and contorted by the trauma of his past life. Rosie was prepared to keep her feelings a secret for another century at least.

Her introspection was brought to an end by her friend waking up. “Good morning Rosie, did you sleep well?” Rosie had still a serious expression on her face “Good morning, I slept well, how do you feel?” She responded still distracted by her stream of thoughts. Alastor was visibly tired even if he just woke up, his all body feeling heavy like a rock, the only confort coming from the embrace with Rosie that now he was doubting to be well accepted given the serious expression on his friends face. He was about to pull out of the hug, when he felt Rosie embrace him tight. “I cans see your still out of energy dear, don’t worry, i’ll let one of my coworkers open the emporium today so i’ll take care of you”, this was only half the truth, she wanted to take care of Alastor, but she was also taking advantage of his vulnerable state to understand how far she could go, how far she could express her feeling without him running away from her. Despite hi slender and sharp figure Alastor is quite soft and comfortable to hug, his chest is covered in soft fur and his skin his warm and silky smooth. Now that Alastor was shirtless she could even see the scar left from the battle with heaven, the one that she helped stitch and heal; he didn’t talk much about what happend but she could see the pain, the anger, how scared he was after the battle.

“No Rosie, i can’t let you miss your duties form me, i’ll be fine” he said after a while with concerned voice; he couldn’t understand why she even cared that much. “No Alastor, you’re not fine, you’re still weak as a newborn fawn, you’re temperature is still concerning and you can’t even use your magic for the simplest tasks, be real now, how could you even take care of yourself?” Rosie’s voice sounded more concerned and exasperated that she would’ve liked to. The Radio Demon clenched his fists, his eyes grew bigger and and the void within them looked like it could suck out light around them, his irises were bright red against the pitch black of his sclera and his pupils turned into radio dials “why do you care so much Rosie? Why are you always willing to sacrifice everything form me?” His voice was heavily coated in static while he was letting out past memories in to this questions. On the other hand Rosie didn’t even flinch for a second, she knew Alastor wouldn’t never hurt her. She could feel Alastor’s reaction wasn’t caused solely by her previous statement. She embraced him even tighter and let out a sigh as what she was about to say could start an apocalypse, her mind and heart completely flooded with emotions “Alastor, i care because i love you…”, this words carried much more than what you could except between friends and Alastor could feel them piercing through his heart like an arrow and he couldn’t help but stiffen a her ‘confession’ “Rosie, you know….well at least i hope you would’ve understood by now…” he was fighting to let does words come out “i can’t love you like…other man could do…you deserve better than this…” little tears started to form on the corner of his eyes and his smile was barely there. Rosie looked at him with her most tender look, his heart threatening to explode from his friends words “my dear, I know you can’t love me like other mans would…” she took his hands and gave them a gentle squeeze “…i had quite a few husbands in this past century and i had the kind of love your talking about, but that’s not what i need anymore…i need you”. Alastor looked confused his hands tight onto Rosie’s, “why would you need me? I’m not even good as a friend…Rosie, listen…i’ve been in love with you for years but i know i can’t give you what you need…i will never be romantic, i will never have sex with you…i just didn’t want to tight you into this horrible idea of a relationship i have”…he was devastated and could feel his friendship crumble under his confession, why did he confessed? He would have savor another century or more of his friendship with her. His face was lined by tears as his mind rushed with regretful thoughts. Soon his train of thought was stopped by a small kiss on his wet cheek “Dear, i don’t need you to be romantic or to have sex, i understood it wasn’t an option for you a long time ago… i just” a big smile formed into Rosie’s face “i just want to share a stronger connection with you, i want to snuggle and cuddle with you, to return home and spend the rest of the day with you, to take care of you and call you mine”. Alastor was speechless, it was like she could read his deepest needs and put them in to words and soon the sorrow that pervaded his being was gone and a he could feel a warm feeling filling his old heart. He gave her a tender smile while she wiped away his tears from her cheeks “this is all i ever wanted”. As this words settled down in to the room Alastor and Rosie could finally let out the tension with a big warm laugh that filled the entire bedroom and their hearts.

[cheriecelestial]

Luminary Pt.1

pairing *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ Yan Emperor!OC X Swordmaster!OC

disclaimer *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ yandere thoughts. hurt/no comfort. angst. mentions of violence and character death. lovers to enemies.

a/n *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ Reposting a very old piece post editing (not really lol). According to my old a/n this was “very 3am spontaneous writing” meaning the idea was spontaneous not the process. Very manhwa-esque historical plot ig. Please listen to Joel Sunny’s Luminary for the whole experience. like always COMMENT LIKE & REBLOG (☆≧▽^)

Pt.2

Ceaseless noblesse chatter, clinking of glasses and rustling of ball gowns blurred into an unintelligible myriad of sounds. Cecily massaged the bridge of her nose in an attempt to calm the pulsating migraine in her forehead. As much as she loved dressing up on her own accord and dancing, she felt much repulsion to high society. Whosoever had compared high society to a sandalwood tree must’ve been a wise person - exquisite and ambrosial smelling but intertwined with serpents waiting to pounce. Her sharp gaze, reminiscent of a relentless hunter, swept the expanse of ballroom to locate her target attendee. He wasn’t here, not yet at least. But he was expected to be here soon, after all what king doesn’t show up to the party he hosted in his own honour ?

Everything the room exuded an elite air of grandeur. Golden tendrils resembling vines creeping up the wall and colluding in a labyrinthine pattern of flowers and leaves against the stained glass ceilings. Lush roses filled each vase placed exactly five meters apart from each other. In the centre of the dome were three collinear alchemy powered faux stars, the centre attraction and the nominative factor of the ballroom — the Syzygy Hall. Leaning against the stone wall, the crisp night air fills her lungs while the stars twinkle in the dark, velvety sky, and she watched them with a nostalgic sense of appreciation. The flashing memories of her stargazing in this very hall with a certain gifted mage tugged harshly on her heart stings but she forced herself to shun them and focus on the task ahead.

Cecily shifted her attention to the noblemen and women drift across the smooth marble floors like clockwork nutcrackers in grandfather clocks. It all looked so beautiful and for the lack of a better word, rich. A part of her would’ve wanted to join to the festivities had her heart not drowned in waves of indignation for the host. But then as having danced her fair share of high society parties — she knew of the incessant debauchery, corruption and vicious yet sugarcoated calumny at the core of this diamond and silk adorned marvel. Nobility was a word that evoked images of artifice, undeserved riches, wastefulness and textbook narcissism. Albeit belonging to the pinnacle of non-royal nobility — Cecily’s lineage was both a blessing and a curse. As the daughter of one of the three dukes in the empire and the daughter and successor of the continent’s finest swordsman , Carlisle Reginald, Cecily was taught to be wary of desperate social climber with saccharine laced tongues at a young age. Just the thought of her family flared the inferno of negative feelings further.

“This far behind enemy lines ? Can’t tell if it’s brave, audacious or plain stupid.” Cecily rolled her eyes at the new admission. “What would you know anything about bravery Marcellus ?” The red haired paladin flinched at the woman using his full name and bit his tongue to restrain himself from answering her verbal jabs.

“I did what I had to do” He muttered quietly with his gaze fixed on the floor as if it was the most scintillating creation known to mankind. “You mean leaving your men to die mid-battle and defecting to the enemy’s side ?” Cecily scoffed at his confession. She couldn’t help be reminded of the past when they were trainee knights and how they were a symbol of valour and justice. The nights they spent at taverns celebrating after successfully completing missions and training. Cecily couldn’t pinpoint when everything changed and when people she knew digressed beyond recognition but it left a bitter taste in her mouth. Marcel’s words were slow to come out but he sighed and answered, “I merely chose the winning side . Unlike you, I have a sense of self preservation.”

“Where I’m from , we call it cowardice”

“Probably why that place burnt to the ground,”Marcel was hit with a sense of instant regret the second those words left his mouth. He muttered a quick apology as if that ever solved anything .

“Don’t say what you don’t mean. Genuine care doesn’t suit the self-serving likes of you.” Cecily spat out with anger laced in her seemingly calm tone. Had it been some other place with someone else, she wouldn’t have hesitated to draw her sword. Knowing her temper, he saw fit to change the topic of the conversation, “ It’s a fine dress you’re wearing. But I have to say - had I not known better I’d say it was a wedding gown. One refined enough for a duke’s daughter”

“It is a wedding gown. I just repurposed it since I don’t need it anymore and my other gowns were burnt along with my house. I’m sure you remember, you were there.”Cecily spoke in a monotone as she absentmindedly fiddled with the lace trimmings of her dress and the silver corsage on her wrist.

Marcel gulped at the realisation and looked away to the sea of jolly nobility dancing their evening away but he still couldn’t seem to shake off the chills floating in the air. Luck truly wasn’t on his side today “I know it was a purely political arrangement but Cedric was a good man. You have my condolences.”

His words evoked a humourless laugh from Cecily. Just how shameless could he be ? Leading the campaign that killed her fiancé and still have the guts to offer his sympathies.

“Losing a fiancé ? I’m sure you know what that’s like. Considering how you let Lucia Arden die just to save your own skin.”

Cecily remembered the sweet and gentle field medic who stopped at nothing to consistently heal her comrades and boost her fellow knights’ morale with her encouraging words. And she also remembered watching the radiant light leave her eyes and her skin turn frigid pale after Marcel defected and ambushed his own squadron. Cecily and Marcel were the closest of friends, maybe that’s why his betrayal stung so much. Had someone told about Marcel’s betrayal to her younger self from two years ago, she would’ve laughed at them and wonder if they lost their mind.

“What happened to her was regrettable. I asked her to join me. But she refused. Because she was -” so loyal to you, is what he wanted to say but something told him that not completely the sentence would serve him better. Cecily didn’t respond to him nor did she look at him. Marcel’s gaze fell to her fist which had clenched so tight that her knuckles were turning white.

“I tried you know. I really tried to convince her. That was more what I should’ve done considering what her family did to Genevieve—” despite his attempts to mask his emotions, venomous contempt seeped into his voice.“Lucia wasn’t her family. She didn’t know. She had no part in it.” Cecily countered firmly.

“She was going to be a mother ! And they—”Marcel swallowed thickly, unable to continue. Cecily sighed and massaged the bridge of her nose. Genevieve - the feisty barmaid at their favourite tavern who managed to capture Marcel’s heart and subsequently died a tragic death the hands of the Marquis Arden who couldn’t bear the disgrace of his daughter’s fiancé choosing a destitute orphaned commoner over his well-bred aristocratic daughter.

“What happened to her was unjust, but that doesn’t justify your treachery. You let your own men die. The very men that swore loyalty to you. The ones that fought, ate and bled by your side.” Cecily eyed him with simmering hatred. Marcel looked uncharacteristically startled for a moment by the her disdain but covered it up quickly. Silvers of guilt flashed in his eyes when he realised that even if he had managed to secure a future for himself as the commander general of the new king’s knights, he lost something truly important to him. The past him would’ve really hated him now.

“Of all people I thought you’d know what it’s like to lose the one you love the most. But in hindsight, you’re probably worse off than me. I’m sure you know, he isn’t what he used to be. The King’s scouts have been looking for you and the other rebels . You should leave before he sees you.” Warning her was the most he could do for her now. He had sworn loyalty to the new king but standing in front of his childhood friend - he couldn’t help but feel a tinge of conflict.

“Why ? Is he planning to send me and my men to the gallows ?” Cecily scoffed as if impressed that the king was putting in so much effort to locate her. “Your men ? Yes. You ? No. Corrupted or not, not even he could get himself to kill the woman he loves so dearly. But I’m positive whatever his plans for you are, would make you wish that he sent you to the gallows instead. He won’t kill you but beware— he won’t be soft either. He’s changed beyond recognition.”

“That’s exactly what I’m counting on,”she muttered to herself as she watched Marcel vanish from her side and melt into the sea of guests.

For a moment the entire ballroom stilled and she knew he was here. Her eyes swept the length of the ballroom till she met the gaze of the devil himself. Unlike what he used to wear when she knew him, he donned the most lavish robes and jewels she’d seen on a person. His unruly platinum hair were styled perfect to accentuate his looks. The crystalline vivid blue eyes she fell in love with were replaced by a sinister shade of ruby red. He stared intently at her, it is as if his eyes intended to pierce her skin and rip out her soul. Her stomach twisted and the chill in the air sent goosebumps down her neck and back. He never looked more glorious. The corners of his lips curled up into a slight smile as he made his way through the crowd. Her breath shallowed with each step that he took towards her.

“Duchess Reginald. It truly is you and here I thought my senses were deceiving me.” Cecily flinched at the title knowing full well that she never got to ceremoniously inherit the title since the previous Duke died at the emperor’s sword following the coup d’état and the estate was burned to a crisp not too long ago. His gentle expression of adoration cut off air from her lungs and she felt as though the string of pearls around her neck turned into a noose. She wanted to scream, to cry, to seek retribution for all the havoc he wrecked but swallowing her emotions down she placed her hand on her heart and bowed lightly,“Glory and blessings upon the rising sun of the Asterin empire,” Cecily heard melodious laughter as response to her words. Her heart dropped from the sheer impact. Cecily Reginald was a creature of pure control and the idea of losing control, especially just by his mere presence, was offensive to her. Her heart burst into multitude of emotions as she tried to rein them and stay calm.

“And I never thought I’d see you bow. But then, bowing isn’t always submission. Now is it, my dearest Cecily ?” Electricity coursed her veins at the way her name rolled off his tongue in the same tender fashion as he used to when they were younger. He’s changed beyond recognition, Marcel’s words ringed in her ears. Cecily didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of eliciting a reaction so she shifted her gaze away. Much to her dismay, her refusal just swelled his need to provoke her further .

“Please don’t shy away duchess. It’s a glorious party, would you be so kind to grant me the honour of a dance ?” The king outstretched his hand towards her with seemingly innocent intent. The emperor’s first dance of the evening, an action that symbolised winning the favour of the emperor. Which was why — traditionally it was done between courting, betrothed or wedded couples. After a moment’s hesitation she took his hand and was guided to the centre of the dance floor. The king placed a hand on her waist and interlaced his other hand with hers. The position seemed so natural to them like two pieces of a puzzle that were created to fit together. He actioned the orchestra and the waltz began without a hitch as the band of musicians weaved pleasant melodies into the air.

“You look ravishing my dearest.” Cecily’s breath hitched as the king tugged on her waist, pulling her closer. His smirk widened in satisfaction at her visceral reaction. “Thank you your majesty.” She looked at him with her eyes betraying traces of emotion even though she was restraining herself to her best capacity. But the memory of his touch still fills her heart with longing but she still hated how much the sensation excites her.

“I was informed that troops stationed north of Demaris were brutally slaughtered by the rebel forces spearheaded by a certain raven haired general. You wouldn’t know anything about that, now would you duchess ?” Cecily’s face hardened and she replied in a sharp tone,“Depends on why those troops were present in the first place your majesty.” The king’s troops were sent to forcefully evict war immigrants that were rendered homeless by the conquests of the previous emperor since he regarded them as a political liability. The villagers were kind enough to house some of the rebels in exchange for protection against the monsters near the border.

Vivacious laughter bubbles from his chest and he responded ,“Very well dearest. And please, drop the formalities. Call me by my name. Your majesty feels unnatural.” She knew provoking him any more than necessary would only spell trouble for it. Her scheme had to work out as planned. “Atticus,” she breathed out with much difficulty. Saying his name was a tougher task than she had initially thought. A pleased smirk made its way onto his lips, leaving Cecily feeling as if she had lost.

“I know blue is your colour but I have to admit, you look utterly angelic in white. You are, without a doubt, the most beautiful person I have ever laid eyes on. What a fine bride you would make.”

Under different circumstances, she would’ve blushed and accepted the compliment graciously. Cecily felt a strange feeling of melancholy and what ifs shrouded her. She was so determined before coming here and she couldn’t afford letting her purpose dissolve just because she was holding onto the ghost of the man she loved.

“What use is beauty when you’re cursed with rotten luck the way I am. I have two dead fiancés on my tab already.” She laughed humorouslessly and eyed him with an insinuating sharpness. Atticus smiled with his evergreen charm before continuing knowingly ,“ Hmm. Maybe it’s a sign from the goddess of marriage that those men and you weren’t meant to be .”

Cecily arched her brow at his revelation. Is that what he was trying to paint them as ? Twists of fate ? She may not have loved either of them but they weren’t deserving of the end that befell them. “I know you’ve taken many aliases in your lifetime but goddess of marriage ? That’s a new one your majesty.” Atticus’ mocking clearly struck a nerve. She half expected him to take offence to her words but instead he looked at her in bemusement.

He clicked his tongue in a ‘ah’ gesture and suggested ,” Well you know what they say m’lady. Third time’s a charm .” Cecily knew exactly what he was implying but she didn’t want to grant him an ounce of satisfaction by giving him a favourable reaction .

“Unfortunately your majesty, I am above wedding kinslayers and dark magic practitioners .” She scowled at him as if testing to see if he had even an ounce of conscience intact . Atticus’ smile faltered and there was a brief flicker of discomfort in him as the implications of her words sunk in. His eyes narrowed slightly at her reaction.

“Ces I —,” but before he could respond Cecily cut him off ,“ And even if they had it coming . It doesn’t change the fact that you killed my father.” Memory of the pain of finding out about her father’s death on accounts of treason was clear as day in her heart. Carlisle Reginald was many things but not a traitor. He was so loyal to the crown that there were times when she resented him for choosing his duty over his own family.

Atticus visibly grimaced and his eyes turned to icy resentment ,“ The same father that abused you and caused you unimaginable pain in the name of training ? The same father who burnt the side of your face to destroy any chance of marriage because noblemen don’t wed women with scars ? The same father that nearly pushed you to end your life because you couldn’t handle the mantle of becoming the next swordsmaster ? Do you truly resent me for it my dearest ?” Cecily felt her throat tighten with emotion. She glanced away as though trying to think of an answer. There is no right answer to that question.

“ I don’t but —,” She admitted, her eyes still fixated on the corners of the room ,“ What about my Silas? Why did you kill him ? He looked up to you. He chose to pursue alchemy over swordsmanship because of you. He was a child . He didn’t deserve it.” The night her father died, the king’s men burnt her family estate to the ground and her brother with it.

Atticus stared at her for a couple of seconds before letting out a pained sigh ,“ My love, you must believe me. I never intended to put Silas in harm’s way . I just wanted to get rid of the duke because he was the only one standing between me and the throne. I was sure that Si would be at the academy. But unfortunately he was at the wrong place at the wrong time. If it provides any solace just know I had the informants and soldiers who failed to convey that Silas was in there executed .”

There were many things she wanted to say, to vent her frustration and anger but when the time came - her grief was too severe to be expressed in words so she just looked at him, hoping he’d see how much he made her suffer. Atticus tore his gaze away from hers and clenched his jaw as if keeping himself from saying or doing things that would just worsen their situation. Uncomfortable silence befell them as they continued to dance. For the first time she realised, that they were is a ballroom filled with people. The world seemed to have dissolved into nothingness when it came to Atticus but now she was starting to feel the weight of the other guests’ curious stares and whispers. Of course rumours would make their way across high society at the speed of lightning. Two star crossed lovers forced on opposite sides by fate. Cecily and Atticus had love, one for the ages but one chose the duty to her homeland over love and the other chose power over love. Love had no place in this fight of morality and duty. It was quite a pity really.

“But your crimes don’t end there. You delved into a form of magic that was forbidden for a reason, there is always a cost for power that wicked. Always.” She looked straight into his ruby red eyes. The vibrant blood red swirled in a way that resembled shadows obscuring a ravenous beast lurking underneath.

“Is that why you got engaged my brother ? To dispose of me and make him king ?” Cecily felt the temperature around them fall as Atticus’ eyes shone with a newfound sense of fury. Gone was the sweet and gentle man she knew, instead he was replaced by this - this thing. His fingers twitched where he held her waist as if wanting to tear into her skin.

“Sure. Let’s go with that .”She replied cooly. Logic be damned, she just wanted to shatter the mask he was wearing and truly see what he’d become.

“You think I’d let him have you ? Let him make you his queen ? I‘m so sorry if it hurts you my darling but I will slay any man who thinks he can have you . If you really want to be queen, I could make you this very moment. Just say the word.” For the first time, his suave facade cracked. He sounded almost desperate, so much so that Cecily was tempted to believe that a part of the old him was still in there. Regardless of Cedric somewhat sanctimonious and saintly character, he always lacked the vigour and the ambition it took to become king and most of all - to deserve Atticus’ goddess. Cedric was the only pure blooded prince who showed an inkling of kindness to a bastard of the previous emperor so Atticus granted him the mercy of a quick and painless death. But the idea of him wedding his beloved was beyond blasphemous and filled him with unimaginable rage; making him want to give Cedric a slow and painful death instead.

To him, Cecilia Seraphina Reginald was the closest humanity has attained to godliness. The passion she projected in her art and the fire that burned behind her eyes is enough to drive anyone to insanity . She used the sword as if it was an extension of her own body and where most fought with the crude desperation , every movement of her body was deliberate and precise as if she was floating like a butterfly through the air. With each step, she seemed to move through space and time, transcending the boundaries between ordinary and extraordinary. Each slash and strike was like a paint stroke on canvas, drawing a picture of beauty and grace in motion. Her raven hair striking a beautiful contrast against her emerald eyes . Even when her father burnt the side of her face , it barely obscured her beauty. Atticus had seen her in sickness and in health. At what she considered her worst, to his eyes — she was far more enchanting than any of the excessively powdered noble ladies he’d seen in court . There is something religious about the way he adored her. There never was a God in Atticus's life. No one deserved that title after what life had thrown at him since he was little.

He remembered the first day they met when she fended off the third prince bullying Atticus at their first day at the Royal Academy. She never once discriminated against for being an illegitimate child of the emperor. Atticus was born as a result of acts of cruelty on an elite battle mage of an enemy nation who was taken by the previous emperor as spoils of war. Despite his actions, the emperor never even bothered to officially make her his concubine so Atticus’ status in the Royal Palace was akin to that of a servant’s. Throughout his childhood, he had been a prince solely in name. His entire life, everyone looked at him as if he was some sort of abomination — except her. Despite that the dignified and legendary duke’s only daughter, the lady with the highest status after the empress and princesses themselves, when faced disapproval for befriending the emperor’s bastard, she never once turned her back on him. And not necessarily because she was kind but because it was the right thing to do. Cecily was first person in Atticus’ life who made him believe that he was worth being treated as a human.

“What have you become Atticus ? We could’ve—”

“We could’ve what exactly ? Huh ? There was no other way. And you know it.” Atticus spat out through gritted teeth, a look of abject misery flashed by Cecily’s face. He was right, unless there had been some great power intervention there was no way he could become king. It didn’t matter if the most elite swordsmaster or the nouveau rich nobles that supported him, he could never get past the old nobility and the six legitimate pure blooded princes.

“What is worth it ?” She asked with her words dying by the end of the sentence. For a moment, she felt as though she was back when they were kids and how he would talk about making them pay. No rebels or tyrants, no duty or thirst for power — just as Ces and Atty .

Something in Atticus’ snapped as he gripped her wrist tighter,“ Better than anything I ever imagined. They always acted so high and mighty, you should’ve seen how they grovelled and begged . It was worth it, all of it.”

“Was it worth losing me ?” Cecily knew she shouldn’t have asked something she didn’t want him to answer. She knew she shouldn’t have crossed that line. She shouldn’t have because she knew the answer. But she had to— in order to move on, to let him go, to fulfil her duty and destiny.

“I haven’t lost you” Out of all the responses he could’ve given , this was the least expected. Did he truly believe that ? Cecily searched his face for any signs of fallacy or trickery but found none. Her mouth fell open in disbelief and after composing herself she asked ,“ What makes you say that ?”

“The way I feel for you.” He answered without even skipping a beat. Cecily scoffed internally, the way he felt for her ? What a jest. It was common knowledge that the starting price for dark magic is a person’s humanity. Dark magicians were known to not be able to feel anything let alone remorse or guilt .

“That’s not true. You can’t feel anything.” She jeered at him. Atticus didn’t respond and twirled and lifted her into the air in accordance to the rhythm of the waltz. His lack of reaction almost made her think that he didn’t hear what she said, she opened her mouth to say that again but was cut off by his reply ,“Contrary to popular beliefs my darling , dark magic doesn’t completely deprive a person of all emotion. It merely diminishes emotions that were present in silvers and amplifies the most emotions felt by the person. In short, the user becomes absolutely sure of what they feel and what they want. Anger becomes rage , sadness becomes despair , fear becomes horror and love becomes –” As he spoke, he pressed his lips against her hand. She can feel the heat of his breath in the centre of her palm ,“ — unbridled obsession.” Cecily breath hitched as he moved his lips up her wrist to her palm again, tracing her veins with his lips.

"Pray tell, is that how it went ? Your barter of soul with a devil for dominion only to find yourself upon the throne, consumed by anguish not because you killed your family but rather by the realization that your affection for me would impede your ambitions ?"

Atticus got closer to her. His eyes were locked on hers, and his lips had a slight twitch to them. Lust. He was never the type to give into such base urges, but in the her presence - he craved her. A part of him hated this feeling even more than her tormenting comments. If only he could kill her and rid himself of this weakness of the flesh. “You aren’t far from it . You know I never understood the appeal my father saw in my mother but I guess I do see it now. Fiesty enemy general that just refuses to concede and all.”

“And here I thought you said you were never going to be anything like your father. I guess you kings are doomed to repeat failures of your predecessors. After all the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.” He absentmindedly hummed in response to her words as if neither agreeing nor disagreeing. His eyes were fixated on his thumb caressing her wrist, Cecily noticed it and tilted her head to her side as if silently asking ‘what’re you thinking ?’

“You aren’t wrong my darling. Maybe I am the same as him. But it doesn’t matter anymore. I have everything I wanted. Except for a couple things and I don’t intend on stopping until I’ve got them.” Atticus’ eyes gleamed with a glint of great impending danger. He paused for a second as if debating whether he should disclose his plans or not but in the festive atmosphere decided the former. “You’re quite a stubborn little thing you know. I wonder if I were to incapacitate you from wielding the blade ever again, would your resolve shatter ? All the princes are dead, there’s no one to succeed me. I’ve made sure of it. Who would you crown king after me ?” He wondered if he chopped her wrists off so that she couldn’t use her sword again, would she stop resisting then ? Or perhaps if he snapped her ankles then maybe she wouldn’t be able to run away ?

“Incapacitate me ? You think you could do that ?” Albeit Cecily knew she was playing with fire, she wanted to see to what limits she could provoke him before he took extreme measures. They were playing a dangerous game. Both were waiting for the other to make a mistake, to lose their cool and to drop the civil facade and settle the score .

Others might see Atticus as this stone cold man with no feelings, but his heart was beating loud and clear in his chest, seemingly for one purpose. He hoped that his emotional conflict would clear out once he made the deal but it didn’t help. Not one bit. He often found his eyes subconsciously searching for the familiar figure in the crowds of people he’d address every day, wanting nothing more than to reach out and have her with him again. The scent of her skin and the light lavender fragrance haunted him as he tried to sleep, the vivid image of her following him in his dreams. If it were up to him, he’d drag her to the church alter this very moment and make good on the wedding gown she was wearing. He knew she wore that to mock his guilty conscience, that is if he had any left.

“I have my knights stationed at every corner of the ballroom. One action and they’ll attack.”

“You think fresh recruits could even hold a candle against a swordmaster ?” She was right, no matter how trained they would never able to best her. The only one who stood a chance against her skill was he himself. No one else.

He chuckled at her spirit, it was one of the things he adored most about her. “No. Not really.” Cecily smiled with a victorious expression but at the same time she knew if he were to use his magic, things were bound to get messy. Although not their own, but much blood would be spilt and in a room full of the empire’s finest — it wasn’t a risk she was willing to take.

a/n 2.0 – After reading this my current writing seems so crappy wtf. I guess there is a reason this took three months to write. Tho good to know I couldn’t articulate my thoughts well enough to make a respectable plot even back then. Sorry for the abrupt ending, tumblr kept glitching so I had to split it in two. I’ll upload pt.2 in a week.

[pastelraccoons]

SuleMio Week 2024 Day 3: Wedding

(If you'd rather read this on AO3, you can do so here!)

Suletta couldn't stop her worried hands. Her fingers gripped the armrests of her wheelchair enough to make them creak beneath the pressure. She stared down at her feet and looked over her pristine white dress.

She wore a bright red corsage on her wrist. The sweet scent of the flower drifted up and tickled her nose. She brushed her fingers over one of the soft petals in an attempt to pull herself together.

Come on, Suletta, she thought to herself. She took in a slow, deep breath. I know you're nervous. I know you want today to be perfect for Miorine. It will be.

She closed her eyes in an attempt to gather her thoughts. Without warning, the nearby piano kicked up into the Bridal Chorus, which immediately snapped her back to attention.

Suletta looked up the aisle, past all of their guests, and ignored their low mumbling. The large wooden doors at the end of it creaked open, and her breath got stolen all at once.

Miorine stood in the doorway. A long, opaque veil obscured her face. Her pure white dress had been broken up by intricate lace patterns of the same color. That same lace was made into gloves that covered her hands and forearms. She held a beautiful bouquet of flowers in her hands by her abdomen.

Even though Suletta couldn't see Miorine's face, butterflies fluttered wildly in her stomach. They kicked up into high gear once she started walking slowly down the aisle. She nervously twisted the skirt of her dress atop her lap. Her heartbeat picked up when Miorine finally stopped in front of her.

Suletta could barely make out her peaceful expression past the veil. Miorine kneeled in front of her and lowered her head slightly. Suletta took a deep breath and held it to steady herself before she reached out to grab the edges of the veil. Her hands shook a bit when she finally revealed Miorine's face.

Everything became still all at once. The butterflies finally settled down. Her heart calmed its frantic thudding in her chest. Everyone's hushed whispers fell silent. She could finally breathe easy again.

Suletta felt tears of happiness well up in the corners of her eyes. She gently cupped Miorine's cheek and brushed a thumb against it.

“You look beautiful,” she whispered.

A light pink blush dusted Miorine's face when she smiled. It took all of Suletta's willpower to not try and kiss her then and there. The officiant politely cleared their throat to signal them to get in place.

“Sorry,” Suletta whispered.

She pulled her hand from Miorine's cheek so she could stand opposite of Suletta. She gladly took hold of Miorine's hands instead as the officiant started their speech. She knew they were saying something important, but it didn't fully register in her ears. She was too focused on Miorine to care.

Suletta shared her vows, nearly crying again when Miorine repeated them to her. If she was being honest with herself, she was waiting for a single moment.

The officiant finally turned towards Suletta.

“Suletta Mercury, do you take Miorine Rembran as your wife; in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish until death do you part?”

Suletta took a deep breath before finally saying the words she wished to say for so long.

“I do.”

“And you, Miorine Rembran, do you take Suletta Mercury as your wife; in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish until death do you part?”

Miorine squeezed Suletta's fingers and stared straight into her eyes. An air of seriousness thinly masked the obvious joy hidden there.

“I do,” Miorine finally spoke.

A hush fell over everyone when the rings were presented. Simple gold bands sat atop a velvety pillow. Suletta carefully plucked one from it and held it like the most valuable treasure known to man. She took Miorine's hand and slid the ring onto her finger.

A slight tinge of embarrassment settled in her chest when Miorine took hers to slide the other ring on her hand. She was sure Miorine could feel the nervous sweat on her palms. If she could, she didn't show it.

The officiant soon smiled, closed the book in their hands, then bowed their head slightly.

“Then you may kiss the bride.”

Before Suletta could even register what was happening, Miorine knelt down in front of her. She felt one of her hands lace their fingers together and rest on one of the armrests of her wheelchair. She rested the other on her shoulder. Miorine then quickly closed what little distance was between them in a kiss.

Suletta didn't care about the congratulatory clapping surrounding them. All she saw in that moment was Miorine and the feeling of her soft lips pressed to hers.

Miorine's hand on Suletta's shoulder moved up to cup her jaw. Suletta placed her free hand on top of it just to keep her close. Everything felt so right in that moment.

Suletta begrudgingly broke off the kiss to press their foreheads together. Miorine's clear silver eyes stared back at her. Her heart swelled with sheer bliss. The tears finally spilled over when she finally realized that they were well and truly wed.

All she could do was smile and laugh. No words would come to mind. Though her true thoughts and feelings seemed to reach Miorine as she followed Suletta’s example.

Suletta brushed the tears from Miorine’s cheeks, and she sniffled herself. She opened her mouth to say something, but still nothing came out. Instead, she just pulled her into another kiss.

A kiss filled to the brim with an “I love you.”

[wordy-little-witch]

Buggy should get to do Crocodiles nails and it should be a very comforting experience for both of them. For Crocodile because not only does he feel handsome in his body after transitioning to a point that made him comfortable, but he also now feels like this finally gives him the ability to enjoy something again that he had mixed feelings about when he hadn’t transitioned yet, beautiful, dark and harsh colors coating nails on a hand that felt too feminine in a way he couldn’t describe yet.

Buggy just likes to sit crosslegged between crocodiles legs on the couch, back touching his chest, as he instructs the man to lay his remaining hand to rest his hand in his lap and Buggy gets to debate with himself wether today a sharp crimson color or a more subtle, velvety plum kind of tone would be more applicable.

This originally was just about little!Buggy but honestly Buggy is such a fashionista that when he has finally widdled Crocodile down and proven that, yes, it actually DOES look really good, he probably could even convince him to do this once or twice a week

… That being said Buggy, age eleven doing Shanks nails with some polish they looted from the last marines and Roger walking into the room like “…. what’s going on here?” “C-Captain!?” “We… I … Buggy and I…. We were doing our nails- I ASKED HIM TO HONESTLY AND-“

“Me next.”

Cue Roger walking around with an incredibly amateurish and not specifically color matched manicure for the next few days or so.

Okay but honestly? I'm in love with this. Little! Buggy probably would have fun spa days with his crew, where they all do each other's nails and hair, and he's THRIVING there it's fun and he can stim and wriggle and laugh and it's amazing. Maybe the first time Crocodile caves is after a few times where he's joined them, maybe something about the gathering in question is Off or Buggy's struggling to drop. The Logia user makes a semi-rash decision.

"Here," he rumbles, reaching a hand out to tap Buggy's shoulder. "Don't make me regret this, brat."

It's the start of a frequent occurrence. Buggy, big or little, enjoys working with his hands and the focus can help him calm down and relax when he's a little too tightly wound. Sometimes Mihawk will give him a chance to do his nails, too - and Buggy hates that he thinks it, but he really prefers Croc's hands when he's regressed. The size difference and semi-gruff/semi-gentle way he offers it just takes Buggy to those precious few years when he truly felt safe and loved and it's only reinforced when they care about him so much. Mihawk is refreshingly new, but Crocodile is comfortingly familiar.

Speaking of familiar and the past, however, that bit with Shanks and Buggy? They really would. I have the weirdest suspicion they both swiped some bottles from the same place, and convened later on like "look what u got for yo-OHHHH!!!!"

They're up late, doing each other's nails by lantern light, trying to stay quiet but struggling between the giggling and excitement. And they both freeze when the door swings open.

"What are you boys doing up so late- oh. What's going on here?"

And Buggy chokes a little, so Shanks dives headfirst into babbling explanations, trying to take the prospective heat off of Buggy, both a little scared and-

Roger grins. "Can I be next?"

They blink, dumbfounded. But they nod. He settles down with an exaggerated groan onto the floor, complaining about his "old man bones", getting giggles from his boys. They look over the bottles, and Roger decides one can have a hand each - make it fair, he claims. Shanks does some solid color on each nail of his delegated hand, tongue out as he adds random embellishments. Buggy takes a few moments longer before he does a neutral coat, then carefully does his best at a mix between french tips and a wave pattern with white and blue. On the ring finger, he giggles nefariously to himself as he takes a toothpick and adds a red flower.

It's messy, not professional in the slightest but Roger wears it proudly, even if he choked on air when he saw Buggy's handiwork, threatening to noogie the kid when his nails dried.

((Bonus points, someone on the crew tried to make a snarky teasing remark to Buggy for his bright nails One (1) Time the next day. Shanks lunged into the exchange to gush about his own nails. Roger then got involved too, showing off his nails. Then he decided to "make it a crew bonding experience!!" The next island they docked at, he demanded they get "nail paints. All the nail paint!!"

"It's nail polish, captain."

"All the nail polish!!!!"

It's weird at first, but it becomes fun when everyone finally relaxes. Buggy turns out to be one of the best with the brushes, and the others let him practice on them frequently. It's a rare spot of harmless fun))

((Bonus points, the sentiment spreads to the Whitebeards too after one battle where Roger cries because the fight chipped his manicure and he begged Buggy to fix it. Sitting around the fire, Buggy just plops into his captain's lap, holds the man's hand in his own lap, and works on fixing it. Whitebeard chuckles warmly about it, and the captains make conversation about it. Newgate then drops a casual question of "do you accept new clients, little blue?"

So Buggy winds up getting passed over lap to lap, starting with whitebeard and including many others. Izou and he get into a spirited conversation about color theory and beauty tips.

He's very happy that Teach hard passed on it, and to this day he doesn't know if it was genuine disinterest or if the other declined due to the absolutely murderous waves of Haki coming from Shanks every time he got within several feet of Buggy. Regardless, he is grateful)).

Just. Buggy being a little fashionista and tiny Diva, Big or Little and the cuteness that ensues and just AAAAAAA

(Also whatever you do, don't imagine Buggy, regressed, laying on his tummy, kicking his feet and concentrating so hard while he carefully paints Ritchie's claws. Don't think about Buggy going Puppy's claws so they match and getting guavawani kisses during the whole thing which results in giggle fits and a messy but happy clown. Don't do it, buddy. You might die-))

[chasingthedragons]

Wedding gowns in the Seven Kingdoms

Lady Alicent Hightower with King Viserys I Targaryen

The future Queen wore a magnificent but simple bright white gown printed with the crest of House Targaryen, with a golden V-shaped embroidery in the center, two winged dragons crowning the shoulders with a pair of open wings. The sleeves, open at the elbows and as long as the skirt, are shagged in a red with a gold and dark red quadrille pattern. An ostentatious gold necklace, gold and pearl earrings, and a splendid crown of gold, pearl and rubies.

Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen with Ser Laenor Velaryon

For the opening banquet of the celebration, the Princess wore a beautiful white dress with a pattern of scales, gold embroidery and inlaid with rubies at the neckline, with a small gold braided brooch, and the belt, which is attached with a gold brooch with two dragons and a gold chain, equal to the eight that hang on each side of the arms of the princess. Rings, bracelets and earrings of gold and rubies, a grand necklace of gold and rubies, rubies crowning her hairstyle, a hair brooch of gold, pearls and rubies and a piece of carved gold for her braid.

In addition we can see her maiden cloak, black and with the emblem of House Targaryen in red on one side and blue with the emblem of House Velaryon on the other. Golden lapels and shoulder boards.

Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen with Prince Daemon Targaryen

On the coast of Dragonstone and according to Valyrian tradition, she wore a sand-colored suit with red gradient on sleeves, skirt and shoulders, with a red garment under it. A belt of the same color as the dress and neckline. Crowned with a black headdress decorated in the same color as the dress.

Lady Lyanna Stark and Prince Rhaegar Targaryen

Lady Lyanna was married in a secret ceremony wearing a gown of light ice-green, sleeveless fabric and silver and gold leaf ornaments, like a belt, at the neckline and going up from her waist, past her neck. Because of the haste and secrecy of their betrothal, there was no maiden's cloak.

Princess Daenerys Targaryen with Khal Drogo

At her wedding, the Princess wore a simple pale lilac dress with straps, bracelets of which matching fabrics gave the impression of sleeves, silver metallic details matching the color of her dress, on her neckline and sleeves, also holding and styling her hair.

Lady Talisa Maugyr with King Robb Stark

Lady Talisa was married in a secret ceremony during the war, in a forest near the camps of King Robb's forces. So she wore the same dress she wore every day, a simple model in gray tones and a cloak in earth tones.

Lady Roslyn Frey with Lord Edmure Tully

The young Frey girl wore at her wedding to Lord Edmure a lovely green dress with flower print over a simple white dress. Long and wide sleeves and small embroidered details on the neckline. Over the dress she wore a delicate white cape woven with flowers.

Her maiden's cloak, white and earthy with intricate prints and embroidery, and a pattern of branches and leaves all around the edge, in very similar tones to the rest of her costume.

Lady Sansa Stark with Tyrion Lannister

For her wedding in the Sept of Baelor Lady Sansa wore a gown of a shimmering purple fabric with a golden floral pattern and a cross embroidery of golden lions and wolves. Metallic ornaments on her hips and a necklace with the emblem of House Lannister.

Her maiden's cloak, of red velvet with gold collar and sleeves with the lion of House Lannister in red on them.

Lady Sansa Stark with Ramsey Bolton

In the godswood of Winterfell she wore a shiny silver dress with a delicate pattern of slightly brighter lines. Over it, a short-sleeved coat of thick white velvety fabric with a braided pattern and a pair of silver brooches in the center. Covering each shoulder, a pair of white furs.

Lady Margaery Tyrell with King Joffrey Baratheon

For the most ostentatious wedding of the era, the future Queen wore an ice blue dress with an open back and matching blue rose embroidery leading to a rose-covered train. A silver necklace and a beautiful gold and silver plated crown with the antlers of House Baratheon and the roses of House Tyrell.

Her maiden's cloak, white with gold embroidery of lions and red borders, the same that Queen Cersei Lannister wore at her wedding to King Robert Baratheon.

Queen Margaery Tyrell with King Tommen Baratheon

In her second nuptials, in a much simpler ceremony, Queen Margaery wore a beautiful copper-colored dress with gold prints, sleeveless and deep neckline, plus a beautiful and ostentatious necklace that follows the shape of the neckline, crowned with the same crown she used in her wedding to King Joffrey Baratheon.

Her maiden's cloak, white, gold and red, matching the colors of her dress. The colors of House Lannister.

Lady Lysa Arryn with Lord Petyr Baelich

For her hasty wedding to Lord Baelich, Lady Lysa seemed to have her dress already prepared. She wore a light blue dress with sand-colored prints, a bust of the same color and ornaments of birds under the bust and neck from where a cape of the same fabric of the dress is born. She did not use a maiden's cloak because the ceremony was private and very simple.

[glimmervoi]

A SEALED FATE: EMERALDS AND BLOOD - IV Keys and a Strange Feeling

masterlist

e&b masterlist

Notes: I was really struggling with this chapter and I dont know why lol. I'm not satisfied, and it's much shorter than I wanted it to be. But I couldnt stare at the draft anymore, so i went ahead and decided to post.

I hope that it's not as bad as i think it is lmao, please enjoy!

As the winter ball approached with only two days remaining, the castle was bustling with activity. Caterers and early guests flooded the halls, ensuring that every room was occupied with at least three people at all times. The air buzzed with anticipation as preparations continued on.

The hustle and bustle of the castle was overwhelming, especially when you found yourself amidst a throng of servants. They jostled and shoved, each trying to move quickly through the rooms, causing you to feel like a leaf caught in a swirling gust of wind.

Since your encounter with Prince Namjoon, who had requested a tea you were unfamiliar with, Rae had taken it upon herself to keep you close by as she was wary of any further interactions that might land you in trouble.

You had been lucky when another maid had rushed to Rae's side as soon as Namjoon and his brother entered the room. The redheaded maid intervened just in time, preventing you from selecting the wrong tea and a teapot reserved for special occasions.

Unfortunately, being tethered to Rae's side also meant being front and center at the busiest areas of the castle, and today it was the ballroom. The large space was teeming with caterers and servants, mirroring the hustle and bustle found in every other corner of the castle.

The decor was progressing beautifully, and every now and then, you couldn't help but pause to admire it. Sturdy, dark oak tables were carefully positioned around the room, complemented by plush dining chairs adorned with smooth, velvety cushions in a rich shade of dark blue.

Deep blue curtains, adorned with a shimmering silver pattern, were being hung above the tall arched windows. Beyond the windows, spacious balconies were decorated with exquisite winter flowers that were flourishing despite the freezing cold.

Silver lanterns were being suspended from the ceilings, casting a soft glow, while pine garlands dusted with delicate white accents were draped elegantly across every available surface. If you had been tasked with the same decorations, you knew that you would have created a  mishmash of blue, white, and silver that might have caused disappointment rather than delight.

Yet amidst the chaos, the head caterer stood confidently in the center of the room as she orchestrated the bustling activity with a commanding presence. Despite the myriad of items being placed together, she possessed a keen eye, skillfully avoiding clutter while maintaining a large, gaudy display.

Though the ballroom was far from being completed, with numerous crates still waiting to be unpacked, the space already exuded a sense of grandeur and beauty as each box of decor was meticulously arranged.

The sound of a throat being cleared behind you abruptly snapped you out of your thoughts, and you turned swiftly. There stood Rae, her hands planted firmly on her hips and a stern expression etched upon her face.

Though a frown tugged at her lips, her expression lacked true irritation as she gazed at you. She understood the potential consequences of your distracted behavior, knowing it could reflect poorly on her if caught by the wrong person. Despite her concerns, she remained patient as she knew that you would do your best to not get her into trouble.

"The centerpieces still need to be set out," Rae instructed, gesturing towards a crate overflowing with small metal objects. Were those... keys? "If you could please take care of that, then afterwards you may take a short break for lunch with the others."

You nodded in acknowledgment and hurried over to the crate, curiosity piqued. Peeking inside, you confirmed that the contents were indeed keys—numerous ones, varying in shapes and sizes, crafted from different metals. Among them you noticed several that appeared to match each other, forming sets.

Adjacent to the crate of keys sat a smaller container filled with white-painted glass jars. Tilting your head, you examined them, pondering how they were meant to be arranged. Straightening up, you scanned the room in search of Rae again, intending to seek help from her.

"Looking for some help?" a smooth voice inquired from the other side of the crate. Startled by the unexpected sound, you whipped your head around to find a tall man with a strikingly handsome face standing before you. For a brief moment, you were rendered speechless.

His golden skin seemed to radiate warmth, akin to the sun itself, while his brown eyes held a gentle kindness. Despite the slight messiness of his dark brown hair, it possessed a healthy shine. Beneath his plain, billowing cream-colored shirt and snugly fitting leather pants, you could see the contours of his lean, toned body. He appeared both strong and graceful in equal measure.

You noted the signs of wear on his attire and leather riding boots, it was evident that he was accustomed to working with horses. Was this one of the stableboys? If so, why was he present in the ballroom when guests were still arriving, likely requiring their horses to be tended to?

As he flashed you a heart-shaped smile, your cheeks flushed crimson and you hastily looked away, letting out a nervous laugh. Embarrassment washed over you as you wondered how foolish you might have appeared to him. Yet, despite your unease, there was an undeniable electricity in the air around him. 

His presence almost made you giddy, as if you could dart around the entire ballroom several times and still be brimming with energy afterward. Despite the rush of excitement, you suppressed the feeling.

Ultimately, his offer of assistance outweighed any personal feelings you harbored. You were clueless about arranging the centerpieces, and the last thing you wanted was to jeopardize Rae's position by showcasing your incompetence.

"I'm not entirely sure how to arrange all this," you confessed softly to the stranger, your eyes flitting everywhere but his face. "It's my first time decorating for a ball, so I'm still learning."

"I can assist with that," he offered, bending to retrieve a handful of keys. "These are arranged identically each year. Would you please fetch a couple of jars for me?"

You complied, lifting two jars from the small crate, and followed him as he proceeded to a nearby table. He gestured for you to place the jars down, and you positioned one in the center of the table, observing as he carefully inserted six keys into it.

He withdrew, and you stared, waiting for him to add more to it. A simple jar with a few old keys hardly seemed fitting for such a grand ball.

Sensing your anticipation, the man nodded towards the caterers across the room, engrossed in their tasks. "They'll embellish these with flowers and candles. Your task is simply to position the jars and keys."

"Why the mismatched keys?" you inquired, tilting your head slightly. Everything in the room was meticulously arranged, so it seemed out of place to deviate with something as inconsequential as keys.

"It's for a game the guests play each winter," the man said, presenting a small brass key in his large hand. Three tiny rubies adorned it. Such a key could buy everyone in Greenriver a place in the city if it was sold…

You pushed aside the thought immediately. Entertaining such an idea would be reckless. Stealing and selling it would be utterly foolish, likely leading to a painful stay in the dungeons.

"Each guest selects a key from the jar," the man clarified, clasping his fingers around the key. "Then they seek out the individual holding the matching key. There are two of each type. Whoever you match with becomes your companion for the evening."

"A matching game?" It sounded entertaining, though perhaps more so for guests who were still unwed. You asked the man, whose name you still hadn't caught, what married couples did with their keys.

"Even married guests participate," he replied, shifting to the next table. You trailed behind, setting another jar in the table's center. "Matching doesn't necessarily imply sharing a bed with the person you're paired with."

His words made you blush, and for a fleeting instant, thoughts of you and... him flitted through your mind. You quickly pushed the notion aside, your cheeks burning even hotter. The man shot you a knowing grin, as if he could read your thoughts, and you hurriedly changed the subject, eager to move on from the awkward moment.

"So, how long have you been employed by the castle?" you inquired, observing as he inserted another six keys into the jar. He appeared quite knowledgeable, prompting you to wonder how long it would take for you to grasp these tasks and routines as well.

The man fell silent for a moment, his lips curving into a strange smile. "It's been a while," he responded, his amiable tone tinged with an elusive note that left you intrigued. You felt the urge to press further, to inquire just how long "a while" meant to him, but before you could, he returned the remaining keys to the crate.

"It's time for me to take my leave," he declared, brushing imaginary dust from his hands as he glanced at the colossal clock adorning the far wall of the room. "You've got the hang of arranging these now, so I'm confident you'll wrap up this task swiftly."

You nodded, a whirlwind of questions swirling in your mind. You yearned to ask his name, his role within the castle, whether your paths might cross again. There was an undeniable pull towards him, and he was quite attractive. Pursuing the chance to know him better wouldn’t end badly, would it?

"I'll be seeing you around," he chimed, offering you a wink. Your cheeks flushed once more but before you could gather your thoughts to reply, he strode towards the grand double doors of the ballroom, leaving you momentarily speechless.

Was he... flirting with you? A wink usually signified flirting, didn't it?

The notion set your heart racing. In Greenriver, a few men your age had teased you and shown interest. You had even flirted back on occasion. But this felt different somehow.

You wanted to encounter him again, a peculiar sense of emptiness settling in your stomach as his graceful silhouette vanished beyond the doors. With a frown, you redirected your attention to the keys and jars.

Despite the chill creeping into your bones, you stooped down, gathering a handful of the assorted keys. Determined to complete the task, you decided to approach Rae during lunch.

Perhaps sharing your thoughts with someone would alleviate the feeling that was beginning to weigh your mind down.

[lifeofpriya]

sinner req ml! "i brought you flowers." "for what?" "there has to be a reason?" like that’d be so cute

hiii!!! i hope y'all enjoy this fic 🤭❤️

Unexpected Beauty

wc: 2.6k

You're sitting in the quiet sanctuary of your small apartment, the only sounds being the gentle hum of the refrigerator and the distant murmur of the city outside. The afternoon light filters through the blinds, casting a warm glow across the worn wooden floorboards. You're lost in thought, scrolling through your phone, when you hear a knock at the door.

"Surprise!" Jannik says, beaming as you open the door. He's holding a bouquet of flowers, their vibrant colors standing out against the neutral tones of your living room. You can't help but smile back at his unexpected gesture.

The bouquet is a mix of roses, tulips, and daisies, their stems wrapped in simple brown paper. The smell is faint but sweet, tickling your nose as you take them from his outstretched hand. "What's this for?" you ask, eyebrows furrowed in pleasant confusion.

"Just because," Jannik says, his eyes lighting up with a playful glint. He steps inside, his sneakers squeaking against the floor. You close the door behind him, still holding the flowers in disbelief. "I know we don't have an anniversary or anything, but I saw them at the market and thought of you."

You look at the bouquet again, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. "They're beautiful," you murmur, running your thumb over the velvety petals of a rose. The thorns are carefully removed, leaving no trace of the danger they once posed.

Jannik shrugs off his jacket, revealing the sleek lines of his athletic build beneath a simple white t-shirt. He heads to the kitchen, his movements fluid and graceful, despite his towering height. You follow, watching as he opens the fridge and pulls out a vase filled with water. "Let's get these beauties in some water," he says, his accent wrapping around the words like a warm embrace.

You place the flowers on the counter, and he carefully arranges them, snipping the stems and placing each bloom just so. His focus is intense, his hands gentle. It's a side of him you rarely see outside of the tennis court—his tenderness for something so delicate. The vase is soon filled with the bouquet, a riot of colors that brighten the space.

"There," he says, stepping back to admire his handiwork. His grin is wide, his cheeks flushed with excitement. He's like a child who's just given you a hand-picked bouquet of dandelions, and you love him for it.

You lean in, planting a soft kiss on his cheek, "thank you."

Jannik laughs, the sound echoing through the room. "It's nothing," he says, but his eyes tell a different story—they sparkle with joy at your reaction. He takes your hand and leads you to the couch, the bouquet now a centerpiece on the coffee table. You both sit down, the cushions molding to the shape of your bodies.

He reaches for the remote, but you stop him. "Let's not watch TV," you suggest, not wanting to break the moment. "Tell me about your day instead."

Jannik's eyes meet yours, his smile softening. He leans back, squeezing your hand. "It was good," he starts, his voice a gentle rumble. "Training was tough, but seeing these"—he nods to the flowers—"made it all worth it."

You listen intently as he recounts his day, the rhythm of his words painting a vivid picture. His voice is rich with the passion he has for his sport, his eyes lighting up as he describes the thrill of a perfect serve, the satisfaction of a well-placed volley. Each word is a glimpse into his soul, his dedication palpable.

The conversation shifts to your day, and you share the mundane details of your own routine—work, errands, the little moments that filled your hours. Yet, with Jannik, even the most ordinary events seem to sparkle with significance. His genuine interest in your life is a warm embrace, his nods and smiles encouraging you to continue.

As you speak, you notice his thumb tracing patterns on the back of your hand, a gentle reminder of his presence. It's these small, intimate gestures that make your heart flutter, reminding you of why you fell for him in the first place. His dedication to tennis is matched only by his commitment to you, and you can't help but feel a sense of pride in being with someone so driven and successful.

The room feels cozier with Jannik in it, his warmth radiating like a miniature sun. You curl your fingers around his, your thumb brushing against his, creating a silent conversation of comfort. The light from the setting sun kisses his skin, highlighting the contours of his face.

"So, what do you think?" he asks, breaking the spell.

You look at him, confused for a moment before realizing he's referring to the flowers. "They're perfect," you reply, meaning every word. "They really do brighten up the place."

Jannik nods, his eyes still on you. "And you," he says, his voice dropping to a whisper. "You're the one who makes everything brighter."

You feel your cheeks flush, a warmth spreading through you that has nothing to do with the setting sun. He leans in, and you meet him halfway, your lips pressing together in a soft, lingering kiss. It's a moment of pure contentment, unmarred by the chaos of the world outside.

As you pull away, you notice the bouquet on the table has started to wilt slightly. "They need more water," Jannik says, jumping up with surprising agility for someone so tall. He fills a glass and carefully pours it into the vase, his movements precise and calculated, much like his shots on the tennis court.

You watch him, a smile playing on your lips. "You know, you're pretty good at this," you tease, nudging his arm gently.

Jannik laughs, a sound that's both deep and light at the same time. "It's all about taking care," he says, his eyes meeting yours. "Flowers, like people, need the right amount of love and attention to thrive."

You can't argue with that. The way he looks at you, it's like you're the most important person in the world. The flowers are just a symbol of the effort he puts into your relationship, the little things that remind you he's thinking of you even when he's on the other side of the globe, smashing aces and breaking hearts on the tennis court.

The evening stretches before you, filled with the promise of a quiet dinner in, maybe a movie. Jannik's schedule is hectic, so these stolen moments of normalcy are precious. He heads to the kitchen, rummaging through the fridge for something to cook. You offer to help, but he waves you off. "I've got this," he says with a wink.

You watch as he moves with an athlete's grace, the muscles in his arms flexing as he opens cabinets and drawers. He's so at home in your space, it's easy to forget that he's usually on the road, living out of a suitcase. The sight of him here, in your kitchen, is more surprising than the flowers.

The sound of pans clanging and ingredients being chopped fills the air as Jannik starts to cook. The aroma of garlic and olive oil wafts over, making your stomach rumble.

You decide to help after all, rising from the couch and joining him in the kitchen. You stand close, feeling the heat from the stove and his body meld together. You grab a cutting board and start chopping vegetables, matching his rhythm. The kitchen isn't large, but you move around each other with an ease that comes from knowing each other's patterns.

Jannik glances over at you, his eyes lingering for a moment before returning to the stove. "Thank you," he says, his voice filled with genuine appreciation. The simple act of cooking together feels like a dance, a shared moment of comfort in the chaos of your lives.

The kitchen is a whirlwind of activity, but the air is thick with the scent of love and companionship. You peel off your cardigan, the warmth from the stove adding to the coziness of the room. The sound of sizzling fills the space as Jannik adds the vegetables to the pan, and the smell of garlic and olive oil becomes intoxicating.

You both laugh as you accidentally bump into each other, your hands colliding mid-chop. Jannik's laughter is contagious, and you find yourself giggling, the stress of the day melting away. You catch his eye, and for a moment, you're lost in the depth of his gaze, the connection between you as palpable as the heat from the stove.

As the meal comes together, the apartment feels alive with the sounds of sizzling and the clinking of glasses as you pour wine. The bouquet on the table seems to have absorbed the light from the room, casting a soft, romantic glow across the dinner setup. The flowers are a reminder of the unexpected beauty that can bloom in the most mundane moments.

Jannik plates the pasta, twirling it expertly onto the plates. He adds a sprinkle of cheese and a dash of basil, his movements a silent symphony of skill and care. You carry the plates to the small dining table, setting them down with a soft click. The table is already set with candles and a simple white tablecloth, creating an intimate atmosphere that feels like a celebration of your love.

You sit across from him, the bouquet of flowers a vibrant third wheel at the dinner party of two. You dig into the food, the flavors exploding on your tongue. Each bite is a testament to his thoughtfulness—his way of saying 'I love you' without the need for grand gestures or fancy words.

As you eat, you notice the way the candlelight flickers in his eyes, creating pockets of shadow and light that dance across his face. He looks up from his plate, catching your gaze, and for a moment, you're lost in the depth of his gaze. "What?" he asks, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Nothing," you reply, blushing slightly. "I just… I'm happy."

Jannik's smile widens, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He reaches across the table, placing his hand over yours. "Me too," he says, his thumb tracing lazy circles on your skin. The intimacy of the gesture sends a shiver down your spine, and you find yourself leaning into his touch.

The conversation flows easily as you eat, the candles casting a warm glow on the table, flickering shadows dancing across your plates. You talk about your dreams and fears, the hopes and doubts that make up the fabric of your lives. Jannik listens intently, his eyes never leaving yours, even as he takes sips of wine. You can see the wheels turning in his mind, processing every word, every nuance.

The meal is simple, yet it feels like the most gourmet feast you've ever tasted. The pasta is al dente, the sauce a perfect balance of acidity and sweetness that coats your mouth with every bite.

Jannik watches you eat, his eyes warm with pleasure at your enjoyment. "I'm not half bad, am I?" he asks, his smirk playful.

You laugh, shaking your head. "No, you're definitely not," you reply, your voice filled with affection. "You might have a future in the kitchen if tennis doesn't work out."

Jannik rolls his eyes good-naturedly. "I'll stick to the court for now," he says, his grip on your hand tightening briefly. "But I'm always happy to cook for you."

You finish your meal, the conversation meandering from one topic to the next. As the candles burn lower, casting longer shadows, you can't help but feel a sense of contentment wash over you. It's not the flowers or the dinner—though both are appreciated—it's the simple act of sharing space with someone who gets you, who goes out of their way to make you feel special even on the most ordinary of days.

Jannik stands and starts to clear the dishes, his movements efficient despite the lingering effects of a long day. "Let me help," you offer, standing up.

"You've done enough," he says, his eyes twinkling. "Just sit back and relax."

You obey, watching as he deftly navigates the kitchen, placing dishes in the sink. The sound of running water and the clank of cutlery is soothing, a gentle reminder of the domestic bliss you've found in each other's company.

As the last plate is rinsed, Jannik turns off the faucet and dries his hands. He walks over to you, taking your hand again. "Let's dance," he says, pulling you to your feet.

You look at him questioningly, but the mischief in his eyes tells you to just go with it. He leads you to the living room, where he's set up his phone playing a soft, romantic tune.

The music fills the space, wrapping around you like a warm blanket. Jannik pulls you into his arms, his hand resting on the small of your back, guiding you gently. You follow his lead, the movements feeling natural and easy. His hand is firm but gentle, the perfect mix of strength and care.

You've never been much of a dancer, but with Jannik, it's like you've been doing this for years. His steps are slow and deliberate, matching the rhythm of your heartbeat. You lean into him, your cheek resting against his chest, listening to the steady thump of his heart.

The bouquet of flowers watches over you both from the table, a silent observer of your shared happiness. The candles cast a warm glow on the walls, painting the room in a soft amber light that makes everything feel more romantic.

As you sway to the music, Jannik's hand slides up to the back of your neck, his thumb brushing against your skin in a gentle caress. You lean into him, your breathing syncing with the rhythm of the song. The warmth of his body envelops you, a safe haven from the outside world.

The music shifts to a slower tempo, and Jannik pulls you closer. Your bodies move as one, the fabric of your clothes whispering against each other with every step. The dance isn't about technique or flair, but about the connection between you, the unspoken language that speaks louder than words.

"I still can't believe you bought me flowers," you murmur into the crook of Jannik's neck as you sway together. His arms tighten around you in response, his hand on your lower back guiding you through the dance.

"There has to be a reason? Can't I just do something nice?" Jannik whispers into your hair, his breath tickling your ear. His voice is low and intimate, resonating through you like the bass of a love song. You tip your head back to look at him, his eyes searching yours for an answer.

"It's just… it's not like you to be so spontaneous," you admit, your voice laced with curiosity.

Jannik's smile softens, his eyes searching yours. "I want to make sure you know how much you mean to me," he says, his voice earnest. "Even when there's no grand occasion to celebrate."

You look down at the bouquet, the flowers still vibrant despite the passing hours. "They're a perfect reminder," you reply, feeling the warmth of his embrace.

Jannik's hand slides down to your waist, his fingers tracing the fabric of your shirt. The music plays on, a soundtrack to your shared moment. You're not a dancer, but with him, you feel graceful, your movements flowing like the notes of the song. His hand is steady, guiding you through the dance, as if you've been partners for a lifetime.

Your cheek is still pressed against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. It's comforting, a reminder that amidst the chaos of his tennis career and your own life, there's a constant in the form of this man. He's your rock, your safe place, and the way he looks at you, like you're the only person who matters in the world, makes your heart swell with love.

[princessmisery666]

Flowers of Fate

Summary: Serendipity, luck, coincidence – call it what you will, but Bradley is sure his parents may have had a hand in his good fortune. 

Warnings/Genres/Troupes: fluff, slight angst, meet-cute. 

W/C: 2.5k

Characters: Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw, OFC. Small Parts/Mentions: Carole & Nick Bradshaw (the OG relationship goals), Penny Benjamin, Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell, Dagger Squad.

Pairing: Rooster x OFC

A/N: Not sure where this one came from.

Betas: @deanwinchesterswitch // @writercole

Graphics: made by me.

Master Lists: Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw // All The Fandoms

The sunrise accompanied Bradley’s jog around the lake like it did most mornings. He loved to get up before the sun and go jogging, not running, jogging. If he ran, he couldn’t appreciate the sound of the early bird song or how the rising sun shimmered across the lake while he did laps around the well-trampled path. 

He savored the quiet, never putting music on, enjoying the peace before his day of jet engines and Hangman’s ego truly started. 

Bradley’s mom had shown him the lake years before. It was where she and Goose snuck off for time alone while Mav babysat a much younger Bradley. A large oak stood at the lake’s edge, and Nick, being the romantic he was, had carved their initials and the date into it - ‘To show our love will last an eternity, like this tree.’ Carole had told him that story so many times. And his dad had been right; their love was eternal and forever immortalized by that tree.

His parents were gone, and the tree had aged, but new life sprang up every year around its base, which always made Bradley smile. It was as if their love still lived, and they were letting him know they were watching over him. He felt close to them here and often imagined them smiling down on him.

Though it was his favorite place to jog, today, he had another reason to be there. It was the date that had been carved into the bark, and he had a bouquet of purple calla lilies, his mother’s favorite, that he planned to leave at its base. 

With years of growth, large branches now shaded the path, creating dappled patterns on the packed dirt below. As Bradley rounded the curve, the sturdy trunk coming into view, he saw her. Leaning against the oak, her hand covering his parents’ initials for balance while stretching her legs out behind her. His feet stalled, rooting themselves in place as he watched her roll her shoulders and neck, limbering up. Eyes closed, she twisted, stretching her back, and he was stunned by her beauty—face free of makeup, full lips, curves and edges that begged to be squeezed and hair that looked velvety smooth with skin to match—a goddess in lycra and sneakers.

“Thank you,” he whispered up to the sky, believing it was a sign from his parents.

Eyelids fluttering open, she caught his gaze, giving him a smile that was prettier than the newly budding flowers around her feet. “Good morning,” she said. 

“Hey,” he smiled. 

She kept eye contact for a moment, then looked down at the flowers in his hand, and he realized he'd been gawking.

Way to be creepy, Bradshaw.

“Those are beautiful,” she said, “Calla lilies, right?”

“Um, yeah,” he said.

“Those are my favorite. How did you know?” She teased, smiling. 

He chuckled, and a second before his brain told him to take a step closer and start a real conversation, someone jogged into his peripheral. A tall, light-haired man ran to her side and kissed her cheek. 

“I’ve been waiting for almost half an hour,” she griped at the man, “you're lucky I love you!” 

Bradley’s heart sank to his feet, and a weight of discontent settled on his shoulders. With a heavy sigh, he continued on his way. He’d set the flowers down on his next lap. 

It wasn’t meant to be.

Since Maverick introduced the Dagger squad to Dogfight Football, they went down to the beach as often as possible to play a game and let off steam after a long day of training.

Jake threw a long ball, and Bradley jogged backward, watching it arch through the sky. The ball hit the sand, and he reached out to catch it on the bounce but missed, fingers skimming the side as the oval ball bounced out of reach.

“Here,” a familiar voice said, and he turned to see the woman from the lake holding the ball out to him. 

“Uh, thanks,” Bradley muttered, taking the ball from her outstretched hand. He was thankful he was wearing sunglasses because his eyes roamed her body from head to toe. Her hair was down, sitting in thick waves over her left shoulder. She’d applied light makeup, a gray sweater, and jeans that accentuated the curves he’d admired earlier.

“Calla lily guy, right?” she asked, recognizing him too.

“Yeah,” he nodded and felt his cheeks heat up. He’d been staring again. He wiped his sweaty palm on his jeans and then offered it to her, “I’m -”

“Hen, come on! Penny’s got our drinks ready,” the light-haired man from earlier stood on the deck of the bar, waving her over.

Bradley stuttered. Her name was Hen. It had to be divine intervention. Had to be. Like a fish out of water, mouth opening and closing, he tried to find air to form words. 

Before he succeeded, Jake yelled, “Rise and shine, chicken boy. Get off the perch and back in the game!”

“Looks like we’re both wanted elsewhere,” she chuckled and shied from Bradley's gaze, tucking her hands into the back pocket of her jeans, “Good luck with the game.”

He watched her cross the beach, and she looked back over her shoulder at him once, smirking. He was gawking again, but he couldn’t look away. She sat on the bench opposite the man who had called her, and they spoke for a moment. She laughed, eyes creasing, shoulder shaking, and tipped her head back. It was as blinding as looking into the sun.

Until Hen had left, she’d had Bradley’s attention. Distracted by her lilting laughter, he kept glancing over, catching her eye while she chatted and joked with her friends. The lack of attention to the game subsequently meant a loss for his team. 

Hangman would never let them live it down, and as Bradley was to blame, he’d promised that drinks were on him for the night. That was the only reason he’d gone to the Hard Deck, to pay off his debt.

He entered to rapturous cheers and orders of “Tequila and beers!” 

So it was going to be one of those nights. Bad decisions that led to good stories to tell. As he made his way through the crowd to the bar, he made a mental note to give his keys to Bob.

“Hey, Mav,” Rooster said, clapping the man on the back as he reached the bar. 

“Hi, kid,” Maverick smiled. 

“Hey, Penny,” he greeted, “can I get six beers, six shots of tequila, and a soda, please?”

“Opening a tab?” Penny asked, lining up the glasses on the bar.

“Probably best.” 

Pete leaned back to look at him, quickly deducing, “So you lost a bet, huh?”

“I did,” Rooster nodded, shaking his head, “let myself get distracted.” 

“Come on,” Mav chided, “I taught you better than that.” 

“She was a real pretty distraction,” Rooster defended, “and I don’t know, kinda felt like���” he cut himself off. It seemed ridiculous to be talking about fate and love at first sight. “It’s stupid. I barely spoke three words to her, but it all felt like a sign. She was at Mom and Dad’s tree, then she picked up Dad’s ball, and I just… I don’t know. I can’t explain it.”

“You sound like your dad talking about Carole,” Mav chuckled fondly, but quickly it shifted to a sad smile. His focus drifted to a spot beyond the room, losing himself in memories how he often did. 

Bradley turned back to Penny. “Maybe you should pour an extra shot,” he sighed as he scrubbed his hand down his face.

“You got it,” Penny replied, tapping her knuckles on the counter as she turned to pull their favored brand of liquor. “Hey, Hen, grab six bottles of Budweiser’s.”

Bradley’s head snapped up as he heard her name, and his eyes landed on the brunette he’d seen twice - now three times - in the same day. She was focused on popping the caps off the bottles before gathering them up, and as soon as she lifted her head, her eyes landed on Bradley. 

“Hey you,” she said as if they were old friends. “Three times in one day? Is this a coincidence, or are you stalking me?” 

He stuttered, struggling to find a suitable reply that didn’t make him sound like a creep. Instead, for the third time, all he could do was gawk at her.

Hen laughed, placing the bottles on the bar in front of him beside the tequila shots. She winked, “I hope it’s the latter.”

Bradley’s brain continued to forget the concept of speech, his lips moved, but no words came out, and he couldn’t stop staring. Her eyes were soft and kind, the color of burnt caramel, and he was drowning in them.

Wait, she said something, right? He grabbed a glass and shot back the tequila with a wince, hoping the sour taste would kickstart his brain.

“Oh, this is going about as well as it did when your Dad met your Mom,” Maverick snickered under his breath.

“Henrietta, this is Bradley,” Penny offered, “Bradley, this is Henrietta.” 

“Hen,” she said, “my grandma was Henrietta. I’m Hen.” She stretched her hand over the bar. “Nice to finally officially meet you.”

Hen. Her name is Hen?! Bradley stared at her hand, and it took Maverick literally kicking him to get his brain to catch up. He shot his hand out, knocking over a bottle, and she jumped back, a splash of beer splattering her sweater, before he could make the connection. 

Mortified, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “Oh shit, I’m so sorry.”

Penny set about cleaning up the spill and sent Hen out the back to attend to her shirt.

“I’m an idiot,” Rooster grumbled, watching her maneuver through the crowd to the back. He sighed, exhaling the embarrassment he felt. “I guess it doesn’t matter anyway. She has a boyfriend.” He shrugged, the image of the man crisp in his mind. “He’s as gorgeous as she is, probably a pediatrician or saves puppies or something, blonder than Hangman too, so I’m not even her type.”

A boisterous bark of laughter startled Bradley, and he turned toward the sound. Of course, it was the gorgeous boyfriend, and now that Bradley was closer, he saw he had amazing eyes too. Flecks of gold highlighted the green hues that couldn’t decide if they were hazel. 

“You think I’m gorgeous?” He asked, smiling.

“Yes, and oh crap,” realization hit Bradley like a bat to the chest, and he was mortified all over again. “You’ve been there the entire time I’ve been swooning over your girlfriend.”

“And throwing drinks on her,” Gorgeous eyes laughed.

“I didn’t… it was an…”

The man’s laughter intensified, and he slapped a hand on Bradley’s shoulder, “I’m messing with you,” he interrupted. “I’m Derek, the gay brother,” he explained, laughter subdued to an amused chuckle, “And for the record, I do save puppies.”

“She’s single?” 

“Very much so,” Derek said. “And she’s been swooning over you too. Seeing you, she thought it was a sign. She’d sworn off men - bad breakup a while ago. Decided to dip her toe back in the dating pool, but it’s been a bit disastrous. Seeing you today, with her favorite flowers, at her favorite place to jog, wearing a t-shirt of her favorite band, she thought the universe was trying to tell her something.” 

“Really?”

“Really.” 

Bradley felt his heart skip a beat. It had been a sign for both of them. “Excuse me,” he said, already pushing through the queue at the bar.

He ignored the questions yelled at him by his friends. Their drinks could wait. He had something he needed to do. 

Hen was at the sink, dabbing a damp cloth against the stain, when he barged through the door, but she looked up at him as the doors swung shut, blocking out the noisy bar. 

He gawked again, tongue-tied, a million questions firing through his head, but he didn’t ask any of them. Her friendly smile began to fall, perhaps wondering if he was suffering from a mental breakdown. 

“Your name is Hen,” he said. She nodded once. He walked closer while he rambled, “Your name is Hen, and I’m Rooster, and you like Calla Lilies and my mom and dad’s tree, and you have a gay brother, not a boyfriend. And your name is Hen. And now I’ve said that three times but that’s not what I wanted to say, but you're so beautiful I keep forgetting what words are, and then you smile at me, and I forget how to breathe, and I’m usually not this much of an idiot, but I think I might… ”

She stole his breath by placing her hands flat on his chest. “Take a breath.” 

Oh yeah. Breathe between sentences. If he got out of this alive, he’d have a serious word with himself. 

She waited for him to follow her suggestion before asking, “What did you want to say?”

‘Please have my babies’ seemed a little too forward, so he settled for, “Can I take you out for dinner tomorrow night?” 

There was no hesitation or thought, only a playful, happy smile followed by a decisive and firm “yes.”

Bradley may have lost the football game, but Hen seemed to be a good luck charm, she’d said yes to a date, and now he just couldn’t lose. Darts, pool, cards he’d won every game, looking over at her every time he scored or won a hand, to find her looking back at him.

He’d decided against drinking. He didn’t need any more fuel to make a fool of himself, so he left his tab open for the rest of the Daggers and whistled a happy tune as he strolled to his Bronco.

“Hey, Rooster,” Hen called.

His heart sank as he spun to face her. She looked uneasy, and he knew she was going to tell him she’d changed her mind about the date. She stopped in front of him and smiled, but there was something in it he couldn’t quite put his finger on, nerves, remorse perhaps.

“I’ve been thinking about it all day, and if I don’t do it, I’ll be nervous for our date, and I don’t want to be nervous. Not scared, nervous, more excited, nervous. You know? I want to enjoy it so um… could you… I mean, can I… screw it.” She stepped into his space, swiftly cupped his cheeks, and rose to the tips of her toes while pulling him down to meet her lips.

He was shocked for maybe half a second before he leaned into her, wrapping his arms around her waist to tug her closer to him. She tasted like tequila. He imagined she’d done a shot for liquid courage before following him outside. 

It may have lasted for a minute. It could have lasted for an hour. He didn’t know. He’d kissed a few women in his life, but nothing had ever felt like this, and he didn’t know it until her hand was wrapped around the back of his neck, pulling him in closer and deepening the kiss, but Bradley had been waiting for her.

Feedback in the form of a likes/comments/reblogs is like a forehead kiss and fuels the muses 💟

Master Lists: Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw // All The Fandoms

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[shukuchiisms]

The fabled mountain (HuaHuo)

In my many travels on these lands of magic and beauty, I saw my fair share of fantastique myths, some turned out to be real and some turned out to be an exceptional waste of time. But None intrigued me more than the myth of a living mountain capable of walking.

The fable tells of a warrior goddess that sculpted a whole mountain in the resemblance of a fox using nothing but her sword, then using her mighty magic, breathed life into her creation by summoning an ancient spirit to dwell in it. The part with the goddess and stuff sounds a bit too over the top to me, but who knows? I've seen weird stuff before…

I packed my equipment and started my trip to the southern area where locals claimed the Living Mountain has been most recently sighted, so I could investigate this so-fabled place.

Took me a week to arrive at the valley from my previous position, fortunately, I was not that distant when I received the reports. Even at this distance, I can already confirm that the majestic mountain indeed has the shape of a giant fox. I'm so excited to explore it that I will set camp here for the night just so I can sketch it!

It took me two more days of journey to arrive at the foot of the mountain from my previous campsite, When I arrived at the dark basalt pathway that lead to the summit, it was already night. Strange fox statues dotted the whole path, each one with a lantern in its mouth. Red flames ignited by themselves each time I approached one…

I kept following up the dark basalt stone path till the next morning, and to my surprise, I had stumbled into a paradise! The giant cherry trees in full bloom had flowers and leaves made of pure crystal that looked more like handcrafted jewels. When the sun passed through them a pink-reddish glow took over the landscape with a blinding shine. [Probably what causes the characteristic color of the mountain when looked at from afar]. Approaching those magnificent trees I had yet another surprise, even their fruits are made of pure crystal. I obviously, took my time to take with me as many flowers and cherries as I could carry! Imagine if I had brought my crew with me. I would be a rich man by now!

Moving further into the mountain, with my backpack full of riches, I found a lake as red as blood, at the beginning I was afraid it was indeed blood but with further inspection, I noticed the color was coming from both the plants growing into the lake as well as from the water reflecting the diffused light coming from the crystal cherry trees.

From among those exotic plants growing in the waters, there was one that stood out more than the others, a 'blood lotus' it's natural shine, like little flames, coming from the black pattern on the petals drew me in like some kind of spell and I couldn't move my gaze from them until a soft, velvety voice called for me in the distance. and the next thing I knew I was about to fall into the lake!

And this is where I meet the beauty that would be my guide, that revealed to me the first secret of this place, those Lotus were carnivorous, and uses a pheromone to attract their prey, that's why I was completely drawn in by them. Good thing this woman was there to save my life!

With her help, my journey became much safer and smoother…

Mythrila moon crystals:

Giant red floating crystals beaming with an energy I can only describe as magical. My guide told me they are capable of storing both energy and information and are the backbone of this place's technology. Connecting both the security system as well as all the many devices around the mountain and powering the diverse constructs.

Mythrila golems:

Yue told me the mistress of this mountain constructed those with her own hands, to serve as a security system. With their unique design, I almost confused one with a stone boulder. They're sculpted from a substance called mythrila and brought to 'life' by infusing the fragments of moon crystal on their inside with something called 'command memories'. Capable of both immensurable physical strength on melee as well as attacks at distance using a stunning magic beam, they are formidable indeed. [Although Yue told me that they are prone to a failure that causes them to explode if they overheat during their functioning].

Fox-fire moths:

At first glance, one could swear those are just part of the place's ecosystem, just regular moths. It was only after meeting my guide that I discovered that those are in fact energy constructs, that just like the golems, are powered by those giant crystals dotting the landscape. Those are used both as distraction towards possible intruders [very effective if I say so myself] as well as a form of silent alarm to awaken the golems. I never thought such refined constructs are possible, even more ones made of pure energy without any physical parts…It's INCREDIBLE!

Teburo Ikkaris:

A ghost, Jellyfish-like creatu- I mean, construct. (They are so impressive I keep forgetting they are not a product of nature but made by the hands of a woman)Programmed to perform manutention and simple day-to-day tasks, like cleaning the place, etc. But don't underestimate those, as they can and will protect themselves just like an actual Jellyfish. (My fingers still burn from trying to touch one of those earlier).

Luminescent birds:

It was still night when I first approached the fabled living mountain. My eyes were bombarded with traces of red-pinkish lights. At first, I thought I was being attacked by some kind of weapon, but after close inspection, I could notice those lights seemed to dance around before perching on nearby trees. It was only then that I could see that those lights that moved so fast were nothing but birds! My guide later told me that those birds are native to this mountain, and since they always return home no matter how far they travel, the locals tend to use them as both 'message birds' as well as guides to find their way back.

Sakura [Three-tailed spirit]:

It was not the first time I have seen those three-tailed foxes in my life. They're rather common around the northern plains of this land, even if they didn't have marble-colored fur like this one. What surprised me about this specific one is that instead of using its shape-shifting abilities to try to run or hide from me, it just stood there looking at me with a curious gaze, a very uncommon behavior for this species. Miss Yue told me then, that this particular fox was named Sakura, and that even though it was still wild, it acted like a kind of familiar for the mistress of the mountain, never straying too far from her in any situation. And that its strange behavior was the fruit of this relationship.

Quin Yue:

Not long after I set foot on the mountain, I was greeted by a beauty! Her silver and black long wavy hair and those blue cat-like eyes were mesmerizing. She had tiger-like features the most prominent ones being a tail and ears, it took me some time to snap back to reality and wave back to her. After speaking to her, she finally conceded me her name, Quin Yue. She offered to be my guide while I visited the mountain, an offer that I was more than glad to take. During our stroll around Huahuo [that's what the locals call the fabled living mountain] She not only imparted invaluable information about the place but also told me her story. Being a half-blood her life was not easy, her tribe [that's what they call their clans here] banished her while she was still a kid, and she was later captured by bandits and sold as an attraction for a circus, thanks to her shapeshifting powers. And that she was later saved by the mistress of this mountain, now she serves as a confident, and as a steward of said mistress.

My previous notes got all messed up, all thanks to me having to rewrite some portions of them, but I will not complain. With My good looks and conversation skills, I managed to not only make Miss Yue more affectionate towards me but also to reveal secrets about this place's defenses. When my crew arrives, I might keep her around after I overthrow the so-called mistress of the mountain, then when this place becomes mine. I will explore every natural resource until I can count money no more!

Finally, I can meet this so-called "mistress of the mountain" From the way Miss Yue talks about her, one might think she is some kind of local divinity instead of a person. [Maybe she is the fount of the goddess bits of the myths?]

Anyway, I and Miss Yue followed Sakura till its mistress, then I was introduced to a woman even more beautiful than Miss Yue herself! Green eyes that could make any emerald crumble in jealousy, Her aqua-silver hair silkier than fresh snow into a lake. Those fox features compliment her stunning appearance even more, And her voice is so soft and velvet-like that she sounds like a dream! Maybe I should reconsider my first plan of selling her and Yue for the slave market, those two have some potential, after all.

She's vain and proud of her accomplishments, while we chatted away, Miss Luna [that's was the name of the so-called mistress of the mountain], told me more about the constructs and machinery I saw around the mountain with Miss Yue, talking to her feels no different than talking to a high scholar from back my hometown, a true genius [It would be no surprise whatsoever if this mountain actually could move itself thanks to one of her machines], too bad all her realizations will be mine in just some days…bad for her that is!

My curiosity got the better of me during our conversation and I asked if she was truly alright with her Stewart revealing so many of her secrets to a complete stranger like me, She just smirked and replied that it was fine, after all, I wouldn't be able to remember a thing after that night. Yeah, Like it would happen! And even if she poisoned me with alcoholic drinks all night, I have it all registered in my notes! Either way, I better keep my guard up this night.

She indeed came to visit me in my camp that same night, but the way she was dressed, I don't think she wants trouble, she motioned to me to be quiet, and th---

The next day:

Good Morning Lady Luna, I take it that the dinner I prepared was meet your refined tastes, right?

Perfect work as always, the taste was just right, and the amount of knowledge was just impeccable! One of the best meals you ever brought. I just need one more favor, darling

Yes, Lady Luna?

When you get to throw the trash out, remember to keep the scrolls, I liked the art on them~

Of course, But what about our other guests? Should I be meeting with them too?

No need, I will take care of them myself later, thank you.

[isherbakers]

Melbourne Wedding Cakes: Where invention Meets Tradition

Unquestionably appealing, Melbourne wedding cakes entice couples into a world where emotional significance meets gastronomic creativity. The wedding cake usually serves as the focal point of celebration as each couple sets off on their road toward wedded bliss; it represents love, unity, and—let's be honest—a little indulgence. The choices in this energetic city vary as much as the love tales they honour. From historical works of art to audacious, modern creations, Melbourne's wedding cake scene deftly combines modern innovation with legacy.

A Taste of Tradition: Classic Wedding Cakes

Entering the field of wedding cakes, one cannot ignore the classic elegance of conventional designs. Typically featuring multi-tiered designs covered with delicate fondant, royal icing, and complex piping, classic wedding cakes The foundation of these mouthwatering marvels is flavours ranging from vanilla sponge to rich chocolate to velvety red velvet. While some couples may choose to include their cultural background into their cakes, adding distinctive flavours and patterns that really speak to their particular story, couples often choose a simple but exquisite white cake, so reflecting purity and commitment.

A city recognized for its diversity, Melbourne boasts wedding cakes reflecting a mosaic of customs. Couples might, for example, include tastes like pistachio, saffron, or even tropical fruits that speak to their background or tastes. Reflecting the core of home and family, picture a beautiful cake stacked with rich chocolate ganache or zesty lemon curd. This combination of tastes conveys a tale in addition to being absolutely delicious.

Furthermore, classic wedding cakes frequently have floral themes, either via fresh blooms that accentuate romance or sugar flowers. Popular selections with their own symbolism are roses, peonies, and orchids. Roses, for instance, are a symbol of love and passion; peony are a sign of good fortune and success. These components improve the cake's visual attractiveness, therefore transforming it from a dessert to a breathtaking display for the reception.

Modern wedding cakes: imagination and innovation

Although history has its appeal, Melbourne is also a hive of invention where creative bakers are stretching the possibilities. Modern wedding cakes incorporate strong colours, unusual designs, and even unusual flavours rather than only the traditional white and tiered construction. Naked cakes—where layers are shown and covered in fresh fruit and flowers—have become really fashionable. This rustic but sophisticated approach offers a welcome change that will let visitors appreciate the beauty of simplicity.

Moreover, the utilization of edible art has become rather popular scene. Modern artists are producing amazing visual effects that mimic works of art by using sophisticated methods such airbrushing and hand-painting. Imagine a cake with geometric patterns or delicate watercolour drawings that grab the eye and start guests' discussion. These artistic works turn a wedding cake into a canvas of taste and design, therefore subverting the conventional wisdom about what a cake may be.

Flavours have developed outside the conventional as well. Couples can today savour unusual pairings as matcha and white chocolate, lavender and honey, or even a rich salted caramel matched with chocolate fudge. Taste innovation is absolutely important; after all, the cake should be as delicious to the palate as it is to the sight. Moreover, a lot of bakers provide vegan and gluten-free choices so that every guest may enjoy the delicious celebration regardless of dietary requirements.

Selecting the Correct Cake

The search for the ideal wedding cake in Melbourne is an adventure itself. Research first—couples could find inspiration by browsing internet galleries, social media, and bridal fairs. An important component of the process is taste testing, which lets couples enjoy many flavours and fillings while talking about designs with gifted bakers. Developing a rapport with the baker is absolutely essential; they will help you to realize your idea.

Remember that your wedding cake should capture your own love story as you start this amazing trip. Melbourne has the ideal cake for you regardless of your inclination toward daring innovation or timeless elegance. Combining innovation with heritage produces an interesting gastronomic scene that guarantees your wedding cake will be not only a celebration highlight but also a great memory for years to come.

Ultimately, the realm of Cakes in Melbourne is a wonderful fusion of history and imagination. Every cake captures the couple's love, customs, and dreams, therefore revealing their tale. Therefore, when you organize your own day, welcome the abundance of options. From the traditional to the avant-garde, Melbourne's cake artists are ready to create a delicious masterpiece that captures your path into marriage. Celebrate love in all its mouthfuls, savour the tastes, and enjoy the process!

[ainews]

Lilacs have long been known for their beautiful, fragrant blooms and their rich history in folklore and symbolism. But did you know that these delicate flowers may also possess a unique ability to spot textures and patterns quickly? According to recent studies, lilacs may have a special connection to none other than the jolly old man himself – Santa Claus.

Researchers have found that the petals of lilacs contain an abundance of tiny sensors that allow them to detect changes in texture and temperature. These sensors, also known as mechanoreceptors, are found in plants as a way to adapt to their environments and communicate with other organisms. In lilacs, they play a crucial role in helping the flowers quickly identify potential pollinators and predators.

But how does this relate to Santa Claus and his signature red velvet suit? Well, it turns out that the texture of Santa's suit is a perfect match for the sensors in lilacs. The soft, velvety material is easily detected by the flowers, making them stand out amidst a sea of other fabrics and patterns. This makes it easier for lilacs to spot Santa as he traverses through gardens and forests, leaving presents for children on Christmas Eve.

But the link between lilacs and Santa doesn't stop there. It is also believed that the flowers can detect the touch of Santa's reindeer as they graze on their leaves. This allows the plants to release a pleasant scent that not only helps them attract pollinators, but also serves as a secret signal to let Santa know where he can safely land his sleigh.

In addition, some believe that the lilacs' ability to detect textures may also explain why they are often associated with luck and prosperity. It is said that if you spot a lilac blooming on New Year's Eve, it is a sign of good fortune for the coming year. This could be because the flowers' quick-sightedness for Santa's suit brings with it the promise of presents and joy.

So the next time you see a lilac in bloom, remember that it is not just a beautiful flower, but also a quick-sighted and clever plant that has a special connection to Santa Claus. And who knows, maybe Santa himself stops by to appreciate their unique abilities and give them a sprinkle of magic just like he does for children around the world every Christmas.

[emasweets]

 Experience the Most Delightful Moments of Your Special Day with Emasweets.com

Your wedding day is one of the most significant and cherished moments of your life. Every detail, from the flowers to the venue, should reflect the love and joy of this special occasion. One of the most important elements of any wedding celebration is the cake. At Emasweets.com, we understand the significance of this sweet centerpiece and offer a diverse array of Buy Online Weddings Cakes available for purchase online, ensuring your celebration is as unforgettable as the love you share.

At Emasweets.com, we believe that every love story is unique, and your wedding cake should be a reflection of that individuality. Our collection includes a wide range of styles, flavors, and designs to suit any theme or preference. Whether you're looking for a classic tiered cake adorned with elegant sugar flowers, a modern geometric design, or a whimsical creation inspired by your favorite fairytale, we have something to match your vision.

For those who appreciate timeless beauty, our traditional wedding cakes are a perfect choice. These cakes feature classic designs with intricate piping, delicate lace patterns, and elegant floral decorations. Available in a variety of flavors such as vanilla, chocolate, and red velvet, these cakes are as delicious as they are beautiful. 

If you're looking for something more contemporary, our modern wedding cakes offer a fresh take on wedding cake design. Think sleek lines, metallic accents, and bold colors. These cakes often incorporate unique flavors like lavender, matcha, or salted caramel, providing a delightful surprise for your guests. 

For couples who want to add a touch of fun and personality to their celebration, our whimsical wedding cakes are sure to impress. These cakes can be customized with playful elements like edible figurines, vibrant colors, and imaginative designs that tell your love story in a truly unique way.

At Emasweets.com, we pride ourselves on our ability to create custom cakes that perfectly match your wedding theme and personal style. Our talented team of bakers and designers will work closely with you to bring your vision to life. From choosing the perfect flavor combinations to designing intricate details, we ensure every aspect of your cake is tailored to your specifications.

Our wedding cakes are not only visually stunning but also delectable in taste. We offer a wide range of flavors and fillings, allowing you to mix and match to create a cake that delights every palate. Some of our popular options include:

A timeless choice that pairs well with any filling. Decadent and indulgent, perfect for chocolate lovers. A crowd favorite with a hint of cocoa and a velvety texture. Refreshing and zesty, ideal for a summer wedding. Moist and spiced, a great choice for autumn celebrations.

You can also choose from a variety of fillings such as raspberry preserve, chocolate ganache, lemon curd, and cream cheese frosting to add an extra layer of flavor to your cake.

Planning a wedding can be stressful, but choosing your cake shouldn't be. Emasweets.com makes the process easy and enjoyable with our user-friendly online platform. Browse our extensive gallery of wedding cakes, read reviews from other happy couples, and get inspired by our latest creations. Once you've found the perfect cake, our simple ordering process allows you to customize your cake and schedule a consultation with our team.

We understand the importance of everything going smoothly on your big day. That's why we offer reliable delivery and setup services to ensure your cake arrives in perfect condition and is beautifully displayed at your venue. Our team takes care of all the details, so you can focus on enjoying your celebration.

Your wedding day is a momentous occasion filled with love, joy, and cherished memories. At Emasweets.com, we are honored to be a part of this special day by providing you with a wedding cake that not only tastes amazing but also captures the essence of your love story. Explore our diverse array of wedding Order Birthdays Cakes Usa available for purchase online and make your celebration even more unforgettable.

From traditional elegance to modern chic and whimsical wonders, Emasweets.com offers a wedding cake for every couple. Our commitment to quality, customization, and exceptional service ensures that your cake will be a delightful centerpiece of your special day. Visit Emasweets.com today to start planning the wedding cake of your dreams.

[eyesonmesblog]

EXOTIC PLANTS

Exotic Plants: A Journey into Nature’s Wonderland

When we think of plants, our minds often conjure images of familiar green leaves, blooming flowers, and perhaps the occasional cactus. But what about those botanical wonders that defy convention? The ones that transport us to distant lands, where colors are more vibrant, shapes more intricate, and scents more intoxicating? These are the exotic plants, and they deserve a spotlight in our horticultural adventures.

What Makes a Plant Exotic?

Exotic plants are not native to a particular region but have found a way to thrive there. They might have been intentionally introduced or arrived accidentally, carried by winds, birds, or human travelers. These non-indigenous species bring a touch of mystery and allure to our gardens and homes.

The Enchanting World of Exotic Flora

Let’s embark on a journey through the lush foliage of exotic plants:

1. Black Baccara Rose (Rosa ‘Black Baccara’)

Price: ₹480.001

These velvety, almost black roses evoke a sense of drama and elegance. Their petals absorb sunlight, creating a mesmerizing play of shadows.

2. Dwarf Mango Tree (Mangifera indica)

Price: ₹349.001

Imagine plucking juicy mangoes from a compact tree right in your backyard. The dwarf mango tree brings tropical delight to any space.

3. Echeveria and Other Succulents

Price: ₹749.001

Succulents are the rock stars of exotic plants. Their fleshy leaves store water, allowing them to thrive in arid conditions. Echeverias, with their rosette shapes, are particularly captivating.

4. Gandharaj Gardenia (Gardenia jasminoides)

Price: ₹399.001

The Gandharaj Gardenia, also known as Cape Jasmine, emits a heady fragrance reminiscent of jasmine. Its pristine white blooms are a sight to behold.

5. Drosera Derbyensis (Carnivorous Plant)

Price: ₹175.001

Carnivorous plants are nature’s quirky creations. The Drosera Derbyensis lures insects with its sticky tentacles, then digests them for nutrients.

6. Sansevieria Kirkii (Snake Plant)

Price: ₹599.001

The Sansevieria Kirkii boasts sword-like leaves with striking patterns. It’s a low-maintenance houseplant that purifies the air.

7. Dwarf Grape (Vitis Vinifera)

Price: ₹309.001

Yes, you can grow grapes even in limited space! The dwarf grape plant yields sweet clusters of fruit, perfect for snacking.

8. Tropical Palm Tree (Artificial)

Price: ₹36.99

Not all exotic plants need soil. An artificial palm tree adds a touch of paradise to your living room.

9. Drosera Pedicellaris (Carnivorous Plant)

Price: ₹165.001

Another carnivorous wonder! The Drosera Pedicellaris traps unsuspecting insects, proving that nature’s designs are both beautiful and deadly.

Cultivating Exotic Dreams

As gardeners, we’re explorers. We seek out the extraordinary, the unexpected. Exotic plants invite us to step beyond the ordinary and embrace the wild. Whether you have a sprawling garden or a cozy balcony, consider adding a touch of exotic magic. Let these botanical marvels weave their stories, whispering secrets from distant shores.

Remember, in the world of plants, the extraordinary often hides in plain sight. So, keep your eyes open, your soil fertile, and your heart ready for the unexpected bloom.

Happy gardening! 🌿🌺🌴

[kingjamesroystonpub]

King james Royston Pub | Instagrammable Eats: Social Media Aesthetics

One can't help but notice the visual revolution happening in the culinary world in this digital age, when pictures are more important than ever. Restaurants and bars are going above and beyond in their culinary creations, turning them into artistic masterpieces that demand to be shared on social media. Welome to the age of visually appealing cuisine, where food takes front stage in the eating experience. Here we'll investigate how social media has altered the food industry, specifically looking at how restaurants and bars are using it to create aesthetically pleasing dishes that become viral on Instagram and other sites. How it helped King james Royston Pub reach more customers through the social media sites.

King james Royston Pub

A New Era in Social Media - 

The Visual Feast: Social Media and Food Culture - 

Our relationship with food has changed due to the proliferation of social media, especially Instagram. Now more than ever, dining out can be a visual extravaganza as well as a sensory one. The visually appealing nature of Instagram has normalised the practice of posting visually appealing food images, transforming eating out into a social currency.

Mysterious Food Phenomenon - 

Come with me into the realm of "food porn"—a word invented to describe aesthetically pleasing and delicious food photos that make you want to chow down. Thanks to social media, this trend has really taken off, and now every time you go out to eat may be a photo opportunity. Influencers and foodies alike are always on the lookout for the ideal photo to share with the world, so they may remember their culinary travels forever.

Instagram-Friendly Food Design: Aesthetics - 

Presentation Power: 

Presentation is key in this era of food that is meant to be Instagrammed. The presentation of food is becoming more important in restaurants and bars. Everything about it is artfully selected to provide an aesthetic treat, from the vivid colours and elaborate plating techniques to the imaginative use of props.

Delicious Food and Beauty: 

These days, chefs are more like artists, transforming their dishes into works of art. Dishes become works of art when decorated with intricate designs, edible flowers, and sauce drizzled with finesse. Not only is it important to please the palate, but it is also crucial to captivate scrolling audiences with a visual spectacle.

How Instagram Inspires Cooking 

Trendsetters & Internet Stars: 

Thanks to the Instagram effect, certain recipes have gone viral. When a dessert or cocktail is served in an unusual or aesthetically pleasing way, it can become a fad, and people will go to great lengths to try it. As a result, chefs are driven not just by a passion for culinary innovation but also by the ambition to craft dishes that will fascinate the world of social media.

Food Critics Influencers: 

There has been a dramatic rise in the power of social media influencers in the food and lifestyle industries. They have the power to make or break a restaurant or cuisine with their reviews and recommendations. So, chefs plan their dishes with both the tastes of traditional critics and those of social media influencers and their audiences in mind.

Making Catchy Menus for Instagram - 

Photoactive Ingredients and Colours: 

Picking out beautiful ingredients is the first step in making food that will be perfect for Instagram. The focus is on visually appealing proteins, vibrant fruits, and colourful veggies. Chefs also pay attention to colour schemes when they make food, making sure it looks good on camera without sacrificing flavour.

Contrasting Textures and Patterns: 

In terms of how appetising a dish looks, texture is key. Modern cuisine is all about contrasting textures, with chefs using crunchy toppings, silky sauces, and velvety foams as ingredients. Both the dining experience and the compositions are enhanced by these humorous contrasts.

Mixology to Mocktails: 

Cocktail Performance Art: 

The presentation is as important as the flavour. With the use of elaborate shakers, imaginative garnishes, and aesthetically pleasing glassware, mixologists are elevating the art of cocktail making to the level of a performance art. The end result is an experience worthy of Instagramming, and not only for the drink itself.

Elegance Without Alcohol: Mocktails Rise 

The variety of visually appealing mocktails is expanding in response to the rising demand for non-alcoholic beverages. Many bars and eateries are starting to realise how important it is to serve customers who want a great drink and an Instagrammable moment, regardless of whether they drink alcohol or not.

Social Media-Friendly Areas-  

Creating Instagrammable Environments - 

Everything about the dining experience is in vogue, not just the plate. Outdoor lighting, visually appealing furnishings, and spots that beg customers to take photos and share are just a few of the ways that bars and restaurants are transforming their interiors to be more Instagrammable.

Moments to Share: Experience Economy 

Now more than ever, the dining experience is the most important part of a meal in this age of Instagrammable cuisine. Through the use of interactive menus and visually appealing table arrangements, restaurants are encouraging customers to capture and share their dining experiences on social media.

Creative vs. Critical Instagrammable Eats - 

The Aesthetics Critique: 

Concurrent with the rise of Instagrammable foods as an inspiration for new culinary trends, there is criticism of the trend towards putting aesthetics over flavour. Some think that in our quest for Instagrammable cuisine, we risk putting too much emphasis on presentation and not enough on the actual taste of the food.

Balance: Beauty and Taste - 

Aesthetic appeal and culinary expertise are two competing goals, but chefs are learning to live with them both. Cooking meals that look good enough to post on social media but also taste good enough to justify the hype is no easy feat.

Transforming Trends into Social Impact - 

Building Strong Communities: 

The way we interact with food has changed, and the Instagrammable eating phenomena, which may have begun as a social media craze, now reflects that. Sharing aesthetically pleasing recipes on social media has evolved into a community building activity, bringing together individuals from all over the globe who have a common interest in food photography.

Promoting Creativity and Innovation: 

Chefs are now more emboldened than ever to push the boundaries of creativity and invention thanks to the Instagrammable food craze. It has given chefs more leeway to play around with different textures, flavours, and presentation styles to appeal to a visually oriented audience, which in turn has expanded their culinary horizons.

Food Instagrammability Future: 

Beauty Beyond Trend: 

Looking ahead, we can probably expect the idea of Instagrammable meals to change. The emphasis may move from superficial beauty to narrative storytelling through cuisine, with the goal of creating stories that strike a chord with customers. In line with the increasing focus on responsible dining, chefs may look into more environmentally friendly and sustainable design methods.

Dining Virtually: 

The landscape of Instagrammable food could be further influenced by the growing popularity of augmented and virtual reality technologies. One potential new frontier at the crossroads of technology and culinary aesthetics is virtual dining experiences, where customers can eat in aesthetically beautiful digital settings.

Conclusion: Lens to Palate: 

The food industry has evolved significantly in the era of Instagrammable dishes. In addition to transforming chefs into visual storytellers, social media has made eating an immersive experience that engages all of your senses. Restaurants and bars are now more than ever before curating