#soft !!!!

the kitchen is quiet, aside from music playing softly in the background. grizz has made luke look forward to mornings like these. it’s simply the two of them, and it’s the one reason that luke always gets himself up so early. there were not a lot of good things to say about new ham, but one of the very few was that it felt like he had more time. most of that extra time was used stealing little moments with grizz. the whole world seemed to move a little slower here, and when things were good, it was nice.

“do i?” a little laugh comes with the words, a grin on his lips. still, luke doesn’t doubt it. they’ve spent a lot of time together lately, and luke is almost certain that he probably did promise grizz a dance at least once. and even if he didn’t, how is luke supposed to say no? grizz is way too cute for that.

platonic touch  \  @spheir  -  accepting,  mutuals only

                                    “  —– oh !  ”

one of her hands is already,  instinctively,  moving towards the bag  ( its promise of salty,  crunchy deliciousness a siren call of the modern world )  but she stops it halfway there.  there is no mistaking the offer,  not with the encouraging expression on anna’s face and the helpful angling of the bag itself,  but ivy still hesitates.  this feels  —  familiar,  or maybe just friendly,  but in a way she is not completely sure she either deserves or understands. 

       SHE GAZES DOWN AT THE PRECIOUS FIND,  an immaculate creation of nature surely attributable to GOD,   to shape something so cold  and ancient  as stone in the most  HUMAN OF FORMS.  (  never mind,  of course,  the work  that went into the search for something like this,  and to  OFFER IT,  so gentleheartedly  )   pirates are creatures that often fail to appreciate  the kindness and the worth in acts less glittering  than gold ;  a  RING meant for the finger of a noblewoman,  a bronze figurehead ripped from the hull of a Barbary corsair.  ESMERALDA SMILES AT THE SIMPLENESS OF IT.  there is something in the pirate queen that feels more real than her usual games of PRETEND.

@verreprincesse​ said:    Ella wrapped her arms around her lover’s waist. She could hear the ocean behind them on the balcony of her seaside castle. A quiet place she had been gifted by her deceased father-in-law. All she wore was a silk, brocade robe and her thigh-high stockings. “Ma perle de mer, come back to bed.” She pressed her lips to the curve of her jaw, still clinging onto sleep and the warmth they could make back in bed.

IRRESISTIBLE WAS HER QUEEN,  wrapped in all the beauty of a painting,  of poetry,  all but glowing  in the soft grey light that heralded the moments before the  INEXORABLE DAWN.  day meant duties,  the relentless press of war,  and money,  of ships and commerce and ledgers   under the harsh glow of the noonday sun.  but night ?  night was made for LOVE under the gleam of a thousand stars,   kisses  in the quiet where  NO ONE could see.  (  for one who had so often loved the sight of the sunrise,  she had come to dread it  MORE AND MORE  as it stole away her lover  from her arms  )   and yet Esmeralda betrayed none  of her thoughts  that  BEAT  at the edges of her mind  as foaming waves against the shore,  turning with a smile  back to the woman who cradled her  HEART  in the palms of her hands.

❝     bien sûr,  mon soleil.  anything for you.    ❞

the boots she’d been tugging on soon found their proper place abandoned on the floor,   hands instead drawn to the warm softness of her lover’s skin,   resting easy at her neck as though she cradled the most delicate and rare  of the ocean’s gifted shells,  EXQUISITE  in her beauty and unique among the thousands  of the sea.  a hundred queens there had been in the world.  a hundred more to come.  and yet none so fine,  so lovely,  so kind and wonderful and human  as this one.   she nuzzled there beneath her ear,  and rogue,  demanding  kisses left their purple-red  MARK  on porcelain skin,   a painter’s final touch  on the fine masterwork in oil.  a signature as if to say ;  mine.  you are mine.  and people will know it in all the histories,  all the songs will sing of the queen and her pirate breaking to love on the shore.   HUMMING WITH PLEASURE,  she grabbed the underside of a silken thigh,  her kisses voyaging to neck to knee and higher still   as she pressed Ella down into the warm embrace of their bed.

𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐈 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔 ?     /     accepting always. 

@godblooded​​   said :      “C’i kiss yuh?” Tiny god is polite.

𝐄𝐒𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋𝐃𝐀 𝐒𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐒,  𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐘 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐀𝐓 𝑹𝑬𝑺𝑻   as she  looks up at  Kitty,    the  horror  of the ruby-encrusted  eyepatch a  COMFORTING LUXURY  in its gleam.   a true pirate. more   –––   a true companion of the  PIRATE QUEEN.   the captain reaches a hand up  to cradle  her cheek,   rope-calloused  hands  rough but  kind  at her skin   as she holds her steady,    her warm brown gaze fixed   at  that face that so captivates her,   that face  that has seen  centuries  and  wars  and  heavenly  bodies  divine and unknown  to she who sails  only the earth’s seas.  and yet she chooses this.  chooses her,  again and again and again,   content to warmth the bed of a thief,   a woman of a DYING BREED  as the map shrinks in.   and here sits Kitty Valentine,  asking to kiss her.    how can  she refuse ?

she leans in to better cross some of that distance between them  (  only an arm’s length,  at most,  but it feels a cavernous  emptiness with her lips so close.  )  not to steal from her the pleasure of being the one  to kiss  her captain  ––  rather than mere recipient of affectionate touch ––  for she stops short of it landing,   lips quirked in a smile.  oh,  yes,  Kitty.  she wants you to.