#embrance

[marejadilla]

Denis Sarazhin, “Weightless”, oil on canvas, 2018. Was Born in Nikopol, Ukraine in 1982.

[love-is-a-pearl]

people love to bitch on BW, but gosh, does it set up Ash's need to get strong in Kalos (to a fault) nicely. Like, there's plenty of moments we can see that the Cameron loss did affect him.

Is interesting how you can even see the essence of "Kalos Ash" in those key moments.

I really wish people tried to understand what BW symbolizes for Ash's growth cause man, I really enjoy the arc he goes throught post DP

[golmorehotgirl]

"you look lonely..."

[junkiefox]

I need more fics where Liam looks at Theo and thinks "oh, I could make him worst"

[whumpberry-cookie]

When Villain finally confronts the Heroes, he brings Whumpee with him.

_________________

(V:) "Here. He's no longer fun. You can have this" he leads Whumpee by arm. Whumpee is free, without any restrains. He just obediently follows.

Heroes see that there is no light in his eyes. He stands in front of them, waiting for more orders.

(H:) "What did you do to him?"

(V:) "Oh, he's no longer there. Interpret it as you please."

Months pass and they still can't tell if Whumpee's conciousness is still somewhere there.

Did Villain use some kind of magic to rip Whumpee's conciousness out of his body? Is he still in it, but so traumatised that he shut down completly? Or this body is an empty shell and real Whumpee inside it is no longer alive?

____________________

[cienie-isengardu]

[auburniivenus]

       the  quiet  of  the  night  leaves  thoughts  to  wander  ,  ears  listening  ever  so  carefully   for  her  steady  breathing  in  the  other  room.  he  was.  .  . antsy.  each  night  ,  as  he  had  claimed  the  couch  for  better  or  for  worse  ,  his  own  thoughts  had  bombarded  him  continuously   ,  as  if  they  were  laughing  at  his  demise  of  being  in  such  a  position.  linked  ,   bound   to  someone  he  finds  himself  struggling  to  submit.  morals  ;  what  pesky  things  they  were.   a  huff  is  given  and  body  rises  ,  quiet  with  each  step  to  trail  to  the  room  in  which  she  laid.

       at  first  ,  he  simply  observes  ,  almost  idolizing   the  sight  before  him.  he  had  already  admitted  his  attraction  once  ,  and  even  now  does  he  find  such  an  odd  admiration   residing  in  his  gaze  upon  her.  light  as  feather  does  he  pull  himself  towards  the  bed  ,  and  soon  ,  slipping  onto  it.  soft  shhh   sounds  escape  as  he  lays  on  top  of  the  blanket  next  to  her  ,  digits  finding  her  own  to  curl  them  together.        ❛  do  not  freak  out.  ❜       a  whisper  as  he  inches  closer  ,  eyes  already  drawing  a  bit  heavy.        ❛  the  couch  hurts  to  sleep  on.  ❜

I'VE   SEEN   THE   DEVIL   MORE   THAN   I'VE   SEEN   GOD.   In   the   dim-lit   arbors   of   repose,   she   slumbered,   ensconced   in   her   downy   abode,   surrounded   by   dreams   and   the   lambent   tendrils   of   somnolence.   A   chiaroscuro   embroidery   dabbled   her   facial   features   with   the   argent   beams   of   Diana's   lantern,   filtering   through   diaphanous   curtains   that   uttered   secret   tales   to   the   zephyrs.

Silent   as   a   wraith,   he   glided   into   the   chamber,   seduced   by   the   hypnotizing   lure   of   that   tender   scene.   He   came   unto   her   prostrate   form   upon   the   slumberous   pallet.   His   fingertips   reached   ætherward,   finding   succor   in   the   foil-crowned   orchid   of   Orihime's   hand.   As   their   digits   entwined   like   passionate   sphinxes   in   a   perennial   dance,   the   spellbound   connection   stirred   and   uncoiled.   The   fragments   of   dream-bestrewn   moments   parted   to   reveal   Aesma's   incarnadined   countenance   looming   over   her   like   the   impish   Pantheon   habituated   to   embracing   lovers.

As   consciousness   shimmered   through   the   depths   of   umbrageous   orbs   not   yet   fully   emerged   from   Morpheus'   realm,   a   becalming   warmth   engulfed   her   –   a   solace   amidst   Elysian   dreams   now   woven   with   reality.   Drawing   closer   to   him   as   if   guided   by   an   apiarist's   diligence   toward   nectar-rich   blossoms   and   pollen-laden   anthers,   she   sought   refuge   in   his   embrace.   “You’re   warmer   than   I   thought.”   A   somnolent   gentle   timbre   uttered   as   delicate   arms   clasped   around   him.

[marejadilla]

Nick Alm, "Two lovers (Pablo & Francesca)", 2013, oil painting. B. 1985 Stockholm, Sweden.

[vortexanomaly]

embracing the wampa...

[fagatakonin]

WELL i am endlessly full of love and ready to burst at the seams in some convos i have with people and to me it is very obvious but it feels like this forbidden barrier i cannot cross. Okay. You will never love talking to me as much as i love talking to you. Whatevrr. Or you will never tell me

[riodoesstuff]

you know what

this post is also about GLADoS, CHEERS!

I want to flirt with them so hard that they bluescreen

[soobinsonly1bf]

comfortable pleasure

(bf!soobin x gn!reader)

really short + not even really smut, just a bit of grinding and true love!! (so fluff, but in a little bit of smutty way, i suppose?)

you were laying on the couch, some random movie playing in the background. you were mostly focused on the feeling of your boyfriend against you. his legs interwined with yours, his fingers softly caressing small circles on your back.

it felt so right, his thigh in between your legs didn't even feel dirty anymore. just comfortable. his presence, his touch, his tone. soobin was the closest to home a person could be.

you didn't even realize when your hips started moving, grinding lazily against his thigh. soobin just took your hand in his, interwining your fingers and planting a gentle kiss on your forehead.

you smiled, your hand now making its way to the growing bulge on his sweatpants. "leave it be, you don't gotta do anything." he said, his voice alone a real bandage for your soul, just as always.

you just kissed his shoulder, putting a hand over his bulge and gently palming it, letting him softly grind against your hand. your hips still moved against his thigh, slowly but with just enough pressure to make you feel good.

both of you didn't care about getting anywhere with it, just enjoying the comfortable pleasure and your warm embrances. you loved each other, truly and deeply.

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

yeah, i havent been there for like eight months and this is what i come back with... sorry guys </3

[jey-chan]

Danny, after seing his parents just- go away to hunt a ghost, when he is rught here in so much pain that even the universe was traing to confort him, thanks to his dead day.

"Good to know I was never a priority" was the only sound he left out before leting himsdlf fall in Norune embrance.

Hope is a fragil thing.

A powerful but fragil thing, and in times like this? Is a posion that can and will be killing you from bits to bits.

Nocturne knew when a dream become the fisical call of help for a mind. And right now, one of the cosmic trads of Dream Energy had CRIED, BEGED, for help so loud rhat he was sure all the realms could fell it.

He followed it, just to come with the catatonic state of one Danny Phantom that was swatching the door of the Fentos house.

"... good to know i was never thyr priority- hey Nocturne?- you can have me. Just- let me dream about my parents really loving me back" and with that the obviusly delirios infant child on his 1sth Dead Day, burrowed himself on his side, letting his body and mind lost a 100 years battle aganist the triednes.

The Ancient of Dreams may not like much the halfa, but he would be dameed if he could not do someting about this child proposiusly posioning his mind in his sleeps.

Now where the hell did he left the number of that soul taxed evation magician?

[shizunitis]

maybe binghe didn’t fall into shizun’s embrance on purpose. have we considered that shizun was just so beautiful it short-circuited his brain? methinks an apology is in order

[auburniivenus]

❛ i'm going to make sure nothing bad will ever happen to you. ❜

Within   the   ecstatic   ballet   of   adjustment,   METAMORPHOSIS   manifests   as   a   poignant   sonnet,   weaving   segments   of   dread   and   unbearable   discomfort.   Nascent   tendrils   of   deterioration   encompass   the   human   heart,   choreographing   a   concerto   of   excruciating   agony   that   imprisons   the   senses   –   a   malevolent   march   that   constricts   the   soul   to   trembling   remnants   of   PARANOIA   and   hellish   urgency.   The   heart,   erstwhile   a   resilient   drummer   of   existence,   falters   in   rhythm,   diminishing   until   its   final   threnody   reverberates   within   the   body’s   forsaken   hollows.   

Blood,   once   a   fluorescent   river   of   life's   sustenance,   transmutes   into   an   acrid   deluge,   its   essential   purpose   disintegrating   into   the   ether   as   cell   membranes   tremor   and   twist   in   a   grotesque   tableau   of   decaying.   The   inhalations   which   embraced   air’s   luscious   bounty   collapse   into   MUTILATED   fragments   of   despair;   they   scorch   the   pulmonary   system   with   each   burning   exhalation   as   vitality   wanes   and   yields.   Human   form,   once   abounded   with   supple   warmth,   undergoes   an   ALABASTER   MORPHING   –   cutaneous   calcifying   to   the   semblance   of   archaic   marble   –   a   petrifying   rebirth   that   crystallizes   the   spirit   in   perpetual   gloom.   

Excruciating   screams   emerge   as   she   contorts;   perceptions   dimming   and   corporeal   existence   disintegrating.   As   reality’s   fabric   frays,   the   implications   of   this   dismal   reshaping   unfurl   like   a   nightmarish   embroidery.   The   seething   torment   accompanying   physical   dissolution   merely   prefaces   her   incremental   rise   into   an   immortal   realm—a   disturbing   resurgence   anchoring   her   within   an   eternal   penumbra.   Nature   itself   appears   to   withdraw   in   horror   from   this   catastrophe,   lamenting   both   INNOCENCE’S   DEMISE   and   the   nascent   existence   of   a   timeless   predator.   

Progressively,   she   perceives   her   humanity   dispelling;   her   intrinsic   luminescence   absorbed   by   encroaching   darkness.   Her   hand   vehemently   seizes   his   own,   her   nails   impaling   his   flesh   in   desperate   search   for   connection,   drawing   sanguine   drops   from   him.   Consciousness   slips   from   her   tenuous   grasp,   extinguishing   what   frail   embers   remain   of   her   mortal   essence.   As   eyelids   flit   open   to   reveal   eyes   reminiscent   of   crimson   jewels   caressed   by   lunar   fondness,   she   finds   him   before   her;   their   glances   meet   and   coordinate   in   sanguine   allure.   A   freshly   acquired   awareness   overwhelms   her—an   unquenchable   thirst   galvanizing   every   connective   tissue   with   raw   ardor.   She   aches   for   him   entirely.   

With   a   languid,   sinuous   movement,   she   presses   her   tongue   over   the   newly   acquired   fangs   that   now   adorn   her   ivory   teeth,   feeling   the   crispness   of   their   tips   with   a   sensation   akin   to   the   delicate   kiss   of   a   razor's   edge.   Her   every   movement   exudes   a   strong   magnetic   pull,   a   siren's   call   that   beckons   the   unsuspecting   to   her   side   with   an   irresistible   force.   Attraction   emanates   from   her   being,   as   if   her   very   presence   is   a   hypnotic   melody   that   captivates   all   who   dare   to   gaze   upon   her.   “I   am   confident   in   your   protection.”   Whispers,   her   voice   a   tremulous   breath   suspended   in   the   charged   air.   

“This   new   reality—its   intensity   confounds   me,   its   power   overwhelms   me.”   She   contends   with   the   tumultuous   sea   of   emotions   that   accompany   the   staggering   awakening   to   her   new   existence.   Orihime's   delicate   digits   glide   over   her   alabaster   complexion,   now   imbued   with   an   ethereal   glow,   making   her   appear   as   a   terrestrial   incarnation   of   the   moon's   arcane   splendor.   “I   find   myself   besieged   by   urges   too   potent   to   ignore.”   Electricity   dances   across   her   frame,   rapture   and   raw   desire   entwine   within   her   as   she   moves   closer   and   enfolds   him   in   an   enraptured   embrace—their   edges   blurring   into   one.   It's   a   kiss   of   profound   passion   and   urgent   need,   as   though   she   pleads   with   him   to   claim   her.   Her   hand   caresses   his   platinum   locks   as   if   taming   chaos   itself,   and   from   barely   parted   lips   slips   a   whisper—an   invocation.   “Make   me   yours,   my   lord.”   

ETERNITY   SHE   EMBRANCED,   TO   BE   WITH   HIM. @estarion

[marejadilla]

Robert Duxbury, “Limpet vs Limpet”, 2021. Watercolour. Robert Duxbury is a predominantly self taught artists based in Melbourne Australia.