#❛ sit for the portrait ❜ ▬ ( my edit. )

[droodlebug]

OHH btw here's Maru peeks for the stardew mod i've been working on... I haven't given up i just had a lot of stuff happen that made me pause work on it lmao

[hallasimss]

— surprise 모두 기립 박수 (hala, hala) | ( 🎧 ) ( an introduction. click photos for better quality. )

it's patch day, everything has gone to sh*t for those who don't play vanilla (read: me, i refuse to update until my essential mods are back in working order) and somehow i figured this was well overdue since i've been mostly lurking in the community and spam liking (plus i uh. may be lacking in simblrs to follow). time to stop being creepy and make sure the rest of you know who i am sksksksk

* about me, or; an overview.

halla. non-binary, they/she/xe, they/them preferred. bi/pan. xviii. neurodivergent. afro-carribbean with south asian ancestry. islamic christian and religious pluralist. tired high school senior, video editor/translator volunteer and k-pop/indian cinema stan in their free time. (mostly) wcif friendly, stick to the inbox when inquiring. (if i see you in the comment section it's going to be very hard not to convince me to soft block you i'm sorry) currently tracking #hallasimss. follow from my main @theinfinitedivides.

* what to expect.

mostly cas and lookbook edits since i suck ass at sticking to legacy gameplay—will try to share shots here and there from my current playthrough, but do not be surprised if three months in there's another sim that is getting the main spotlight instead of the one before them. also trying my hand at converting a few illustrations into cas tattoos for personal use, so we'll see how it goes on the cc end

* where to find me.

i don't want to make it seem like i'm chronically online but i am chronically online in a way? if you can't catch me here or on my main you'll most likely find me on my pinterest or the deepest recesses of mydramalist if you're lucky and i'm back in my k-drama phase voluntarily (no, i'm not leaking my username. take a wild guess and tell me if you're right). discord invites are for mutuals only—otherwise, stalk me on spotify to get a glimpse into my mental health!!! you will however be asking yourself why i have a specific song on loop for six hours and i will not be able to answer that

* simblrs i recommend.

@softerhaze (sunblind is one of the only reasons i am able to make this post, ty) ∙ @cinamun ∙ @simelune ∙ @rhdweauni0 ∙ @tau1tvec ∙ @farfallasims ∙ @wildmelon ∙ @literalite ∙ @kadelyka ∙ @miilkymoonsims ∙ @kashisun ∙ @gunthermunch ∙ @bananasplit-sims ∙ @pralinesims (when i tell you that most of my mods folder is just their content i am not lying. absolute godsend) ∙ @puppycheesecake ∙ @glimersims

* fin.

and that's it, ig? i'm terrible at these sorts of things but hopefully all of this made some kind of sense—if you are an active simblr pls interact or say hi so i can follow you back, otherwise how tf am i supposed to find y'all if i'm now stuck in this community for the foreseeable future sfjsfdnkjsdnj (mobile navigation post coming soon-ish. if i can get more of my sh*t together. tbh that's highly unlikely but we're trying to be optimistic)

[sneez]

various fairfaxes and a drawing from my english civil wars hiking au which i never posted :-) [id under cut]

[image description:

the first image is a digital drawing of a group of men on a light brown background. they are all wearing hiking-appropriate clothing. from left to right: a young man swinging from a tree; arrows pointing at him read ‘weirdly passionate about hiking’ and ‘like 15′. a man leaning against a tree; arrows read ‘grumpy’ and ‘only here for family bonding with father-in-law’. a man with a cane and one arm in a sling, leaning over to read a map; arrows read ‘has injured himself on every hike so far’ and ‘designated driver’. a man reading a map with a serious expression; arrows read ‘annoyed about everything except hiking and sometimes also hiking’ and ‘only one who can read a map’. a man with his hands on his hips looking at the viewer; arrows read ‘arranges hikes and then doesn’t go on them’ and ‘good at arguing’.

the second image is a collection of four digital drawings of thomas fairfax, a man with long dark hair, a moustache, and a beard. he is wearing seventeenth-century clothing. one is a full-body coloured drawing of him sitting in a chair facing away from the viewer with his legs folded and his hat on his knee. the other three are uncoloured: two are headshots of him as a young man and an older man, and the third shows him sitting at a table reading a piece of paper with an expression of concentration.

the third image is a coloured digital portrait of thomas fairfax as an older man. he is clean-shaven and has long dark hair and a scar across his cheek. he is wearing a dark doublet and a large white falling band, and is looking to the left of the image with a serious expression.

end image description.]

[ircnwrought]

listen, listen i was just messing around in the editor and i'm high key in love so i present this for your consideration

[corvidaedream]

so, now that i know who johnny probably was, im tragically able to find his mourning jewelry for his dead wife and infant son, who both died in 1763

i wonder if the gown he was wearing in june of 1771 was the same one his late wife mary wore in the portrait copley painted of her.

her brother is the man with the head trauma who showed up to the trial without being asked and defended him with an incoherent tangent about the ancient greeks wearing dresses.

(all of these people have more mainstream involvement in american history, but thats not what im concerned with right now).

[positivelyghastly]

I’ve gotten too used to drawing with line art and now I can’t render without it >:( screaming, crying, throwing up even

[starlostseungmin]

husband!hyunjin

✰ notes: here concludes my husband!skz series with hyunjin. i hope you enjoyed this as much as i enjoyed writing everyone! not proofread and not edited. DO NOT FORGET TO REBLOG, COMMENT AND LEAVE TAGS! thank you <33

seungmin , chan , lee know , jeongin , han , changbin , felix（ hyunjin ）

ꔛ

Husband Hyunjin whom everyone expected to make a grand proposal, prepared a simple candlelight dinner in your shared apartment and cooked your favorite meals. You thought it was just a usual dinner date at home which you’d do sometimes. He suddenly got down on one knee and opened a small box with a diamond ring, “Will you be my everlasting muse? The one who would love to spend the rest of their life with me?” 

Husband Hyunjin who cried and hugged you tightly as he thanked you for saying yes. 

Husband Hyunjin who was the happiest and got emotional during the weddingーmentally screaming, hair-ripping, toe-curling, exaggerated excitement (sincere), and deeply in thought about how he would spend an eternity with you. 

Husband Hyunjin who loves to stare at you while talking, especially on your lips thinking how much he wants to kiss you. His kisses start with innocent, soft, and warm then later change into intimate, hot, and intoxicating which makes you get addicted to them. 

Husband Hyunjin who loves to be babied and cuddled when he’s tired or just wants to be a small spoon whenever he feels like it. He’d refuse to go to work just to stay in bed all day with you. 

Husband Hyunjin whose dates consist of visiting art museums, picnics, watching musicals or movies, evening strolls, and road trips. Sometimes it gets over the moon when he decides to take you to (country) because you’ve been dying to visit the place. He giggled nonstop when he surprised you that he bought the tickets. 

Husband Hyunjin who would always bring his sketchbook and camera on dates just to take a picture of you or make his hand busy sketching a portrait of you just because he finds you beautiful every time. He will show them to you when he’s done. The pictures or sketches will be hung on your shared apartment's wall for safekeeping and memories. 

Husband Hyunjin who drives you crazy when he’s just doing normal things like simply unbuttoning his polo, rolling up his sleeves, taking off his jacket showing his bodybuild especially when he wears a tanktop inside, brushing his bangs upward, dancing? It would add fuel to the fire when he kisses you like a man starved from your touch. 

Husband Hyunjin who brings you food and medicine when you get sick. He will probably take his day off from work depending on how fast your recovery is that it would take days for him to sit there and take care of you. The type to make sure that you won’t die since he would end up grieving so hard. “It’s just a mild flu, Hyunjin.” “Are you sure?” 

Husband Hyunjin who is loud and dramatic whenever he realizes he got betrayed, lost a game, or is just being dumb (lovingly). He and Jisung are a perfect match and you’re the one who actually gets in between. 

Husband Hyunjin who gets shy whenever you compliment him but sometimes he would feel a blast of confidence that he gives you a wink as a response and becomes flirty.

Husband Hyunjin who loves to make a fool of himself, vocabulary just consists of memes (you can blame Han and Felix for that) cringes at his own cuteness and regrets it later just to make you laugh. 

Husband Hyunjin who lets you play with his long hair. He loves it when you do pigtails. You often tease him that he looks like Boo from Monsters Inc. 

Husband Hyunjin whom Kkami wants to disown. 

Husband Hyunjin who tries his hardest to comfort you as best as he can whenever he sees you being vulnerable in trying times. Promised not to leave you alone until you feel better, crack a dad joke he got from Chan to lift the atmosphere (which is effective by the way) and take you to his arms, whispering how he is proud of you. 

Husband Hyunjin who made a playlist filled with songs that make him think about you, scream your vibe, and the ones that would portray his exact feelings. Sometimes he would write down lyrics about how lovesick and hopeless romantic he is. All songs and melodies are heavily inspired by you. 

Husband Hyunjin who loves to send you selfies, videos of him taken by the members that serve husband material, and voice messages whenever he’s abroad because he misses you so much that he cries himself to sleep and can’t wait to go home. It’s also necessary to send you short vlogs and pictures of sceneries of the places he went without you because of work and leave messages like, “This reminds me of you.” “It’s beautiful, isn’t it? Let’s visit this place together soon!” “I’m sure you’d like these souvenirs I got you!” “The food out here is great! Treat me here soon!” 

Husband Hyunjin whose love languages are words of affirmation, physical touch, gift-giving, quality time, and acts of service. 

Husband Hyunjin who loves to spoil you even if you tell him not to spend a lot of money on you but he won’t listen and insists on accepting them. 

Husband Hyunjin who doesn’t admit his mistakes during the first few minutes of the argument but later apologizes over and over again and promises never to do it again. He’s also the type that is hard to make up with but he can’t keep it up for hours and just cuddles you whispering “I’m sorry, I’ll do better.” 

Husband Hyunjin who gets jealous easily and is possessive whenever he sees you having a good time with his members. “I’m yours, Hyunjin. Don’t worry.” You’d say but you know that is not enough for him so he’d show you to whom you belong (affectionately, or depending on how you both want it).

Husband Hyunjin who refused to get a divorce when you felt that your marriage was falling apart because he couldn’t imagine his life without you. He won’t let go of you easily and you didn’t even make any attempts to leave him. 

Husband Hyunjin who is careful whenever in talks of having kids because your decision matters in this relationship but he would reassure you that if you ever wanted to have one, he will be the best dad your kid could ask for. 

Husband Hyunjin who is the most precious, kind, and pure to your heart that you wouldn’t even want to live a life without him. He is the moon and stars to your night, the sunshine after the rain, the rose amongst the thorns, and the pretty shells you find on a beach where no one knows. 

Husband Hyunjin who holds your hand and intertwines your fingers as he kisses your knuckles saying, “I love you.” 

Husband Hyunjin whose wedding vows are not enough to show how much he would love to spend his entire life with you. “I fucking love you so fucking much and we’re married, you can’t leave. You’re stuck with me whether you like it or not!” 

✰ taglist: @notastraykid , @ameliesaysshoo , @l3visbby , @reignessance , @lix-ables , @skzfelixlove , @rachabreathing , @hyunverse , @minluvly , @sleepyleeji , @starseungs , @midsoulz , @oddracha , @armystay89 , @lashaemorow

©️ 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐌𝐈𝐍 , 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒.

[buckyandgeraltsupremacy]

remus x shy!reader

author: sj

warnings: fluff; reader is in hufflepuff; not edited lol

let me know if you want a part 2 cause i love writing for remus rn

masterlist

part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5

---

you shared a lot of classes with the marauders. you weren’t even sure they knew your name. but even though you thought they didn’t know you, there was one marauder who always noticed you. remus could spot you in a crowd of one hundred. his eyes always searching for a yellow tie and your h/c hair. he thought you were so smart and always watched you take notes in every class admiring how focused you were on your studies. to be honest, that’s one of the reasons he always went to the library to study, he knew you’d be in there as well.

james had noticed this little thing remus had for you as early at 3rd year. he watched remus silently watch the hufflepuff girl with h/c hair. he didn’t try to intervene until they were older, still watching him pine over the same girl that had remus’ attention. he didn’t really know what to do so he told sirius and of course he knew exactly what to do.

you were sitting in potions after class had ended, classmates filtering out and gathering your things when someone came up to you and started talking to you. low and behold it was sirius.

“hey! i’m sirius” he said, shoving his hand towards you. you nodded, waking yourself out of shock that a marauder was introducing himself to you like they weren’t the talk of the school.

“y/n.” you replied, shaking his hand.

“great. my friend remus, you know remus right? tall, lanky, always holding a book, he’s sick and is always draining on and on about how smart you are so i thought i’d ask you for notes for him. id give him mine but i didn’t take any.” you cheeks turned red at the idea of them talking about you, much less remus thinking that you were smart.

“um. yeah. i can do that, let me copy them onto another piece of parchment and then you can take them to him.”

“perfect! come by the gryffindor common room anytime tonight and we’ll be there!”

when you finished up copying the notes that night, you stopped by the gryffindor common room to drop off the notes. you didn't have the password so knocking on the portrait would have to do. you stepped back and the door swung open to reveal sirius giving you and oddly big grin.

"come on in, love! so lovely of you to drop these notes off for poor remus." he ushered you inside and you stepped through looking around the room. you quickly found the rest of the marauders sitting by the fireplace, james, peter, and a tired looking remus. his eyes widened when you walked through the door, instantly shooting to james and peter and back to you.

"had a surprise for you remus. i know how much you love your notes, so i thought i'd ask for some from the master herself." sirius said, pushing you towards the group. your cheeks burned as you dug through your bag on you shoulder to find your copy of notes for him. you finally found them and took a few steps forward to remus who was sitting up straighter as you got closer.

"here you go. i just copied them from the notes that i took today. i hope they're good enough. i'm not sure what your normal style is that you're used to so i this helps." you said in a rush, looking down at your notes. you extended them towards the boy sitting by the fire. he reached for them.

"thank you so much y/n! you really didn't have to do this. did sirius make you any threats or force you do this?" he asked, lowering his voice slightly. you lightly laughed as a shocked sirius gasped and muttered some words you couldn't understand.

"no, no. i promise i did this of my own free will." you said, glancing up at his eyes. his smile reached his eyes once your eyes met and you instantly felt warm inside.

and so thats how your relationship started to form with the marauders. they soon started coming up to talk with you during classes and inviting you to sit with them at meals when they noticed you sitting by yourself.

your favorite though, was when you'd be in the library and remus would ask to sit at your table. he would work with you silently and you'd trade questions about homework back and forth, eventually even recommending books to each other.

you even got so close to them that the boys started including you in the teasing. one specific day, the boys found you and remus reading in the common room together. you were sitting on the ground in front of the coffee table and he was sitting behind you on the couch. the boys came in loud and instantly disrupted the calmness. sirius came bouding over to you and sat across the coffee table on the floor.

"i thought of one for you." he said, slapping his hands on the table. you jumped at the abrupt sound and leaned back on to remus' legs. the boys had been trying to figure out a good nickname for you so you could join their fun nicknames, but you weren't an anigmus like they were so there were lots of options but not of them really were fitting you quite right.

"what is it?" you asked, relaxing against remus' legs.

"flea. its perfect. you're small, quiet and annoying." you gasped and immediately sat up in protest.

"no! thats horrible i don't want to be called a flea, you git!" you exclaimed.

"but it just fits so well, flea. i can't deny how perfect it is for you." you started to protest, but a big hand stopped you. the hand, from remus, wrapped around your shoulder and guided you back to his legs, scooching you to between his legs and under him. his hands grabbed your shoulders and started to work there, massaging your tight shoulders.

"we're not calling her flea." remus insisted. you shivered and you hoped he thought it was from his hands and not his commanding voice. james then spoke up.

"what about hoppers?" you tilted your head and looked up at remus to hear his response, not protesting that one.

"she sure is as cute as a bunny and the size of one too. i vote yes." he said, looking down into your face. james nodded his head and sirius huffed.

"i still like flea better but hoppers will do when you don't annoy me, flea." sirius grumbled. you rolled your eyes and relaxed into remus' touch more, your eyes closing. unbeknownst to you, his small smile grew as he continued to massage your shoulders.

[justmojimaruchan]

This is sagau/ au cult content. There are no warnings today! Also, this sketch is made by me! So if you want to use it, please credit 💛 also not edit because im lazy :3

What a strange feeling

While the traveler and paimon were exploring a deep cave they stepped into a tall sculpture, the sculpture seems old, parts are missing while the same time has cracks almost everywhere, the figure seems holding something to the air...

Aether decides to take a closer look, with a clearer vision he notices how the part where the heart sits its just an empty hole, while the hand of the sculpture holds the heart while crying, a thread of golden blood connected to the heart and falling down the arm... it was obviously the creator…

Aether was taking back, usually when it come to portraits of the creator, teyvat always make sure to capture the beauty of the creator...  This sculpture conveys pity, even if its expression is neutral.

“Paimon never saw this sculpture before! Paimon wonders why is hiding here...” paimon says while also looking closely, but then paimon notice that papers where everywhere, while some were soaked with water others where intact... there’s was one who was wrapped carefully with a ribbon, it seems that someone left it on purpose.

Paimon grabs the folded paper and give it to the traveler “Here!” Paimon says, the traveler unfolds the paper, it reads.

“While taking my heart out, my only thought is to maybe one day see once again the light of my own people and myself, while I know my final days here on my planet are getting closer, I can’t stop feel pity for my people... knowing they will think I die... the truth is I will never perish... although... my memories will fade away.. perhaps that’s my destiny after all... if I ever remember who I was once before, it will be in another reality far away from teyvat... an outlander...”

There was more to read but the letters faded away... Aether and paimon were shocked, was the creator who wrote this? If not, then who thought it was a good idea? And in the case that it was the creator then, why?

“It’s weird...” paimon says, “No one knows why the creator disappeared... although... it is said that the creator was always with someone beside them, but one day they requested to be alone while walking on the lands of teyvat, they were nowhere to be seen...”  paimon was confused but then Aether says.

“Then... what really happened? They knew all along they would be gone, but why or by who?.. an outlander? What does this mean...” Aether was questioning everything at this point, perhaps the creator knew that he would wake up after 500 years? But when did the creator write this? …it was before his sister was here or after?

What a strange feeling..

[fuckyeahgoodomens]

Link. :)

Michael Sheen as the Angel Aziraphale, Giclee print edition of 200 on archival Hahnemühle Photo Rag paper, 45 x 31 cm, :  £110.00

David Tennant as the Demon Crowley, Giclee print edition of 200 on archival Hahnemühle Photo Rag paper45 x 31 cm:  £110.00

Neil Gaiman Gilded Print (Signed by author and artist), Edition of 250 signed by Neil in archival burnt orange acrylic pen. The artist has hand gilded the GOOD ICON title in 24 carat gold, and numbered and signed each print in pencil.70 x 50 cm.:  £200.00

In 2018 I was artist in residence on the set of Amazon's Good Omens during their filming in and around London. I was invited by my friend author Neil Gaiman, who adapted the screenplay from his book with Terry Pratchett and is the program's Showrunner. I had been collaborating with Neil on a series of portraits of his esteemed head for the last few years.

I produced sketches on the set and had sittings with David Tennant and Michael Sheen, the show's two main protagonists. From this I created a body of work inspired by the show called Good Icons. These reference the characters being an Angel and a Demon, and are created in the process I developed specifically for a portrait of Neil on 3000 year old bog oak, where I captured special oil pigment in layers of melted sun bleached beeswax.

I conceived a pair of icons where each painting hovers over a newspaper front page issued on one of the author’s birth date. Sheen’s Aziraphale floats over a copy of The News Chronicledated 28th April 1948, the day Terry Pratchett came into the world.  Tennant’s Crowley floats over a copy of The Evening News dated 10th November 1960, the day Neil Gaiman came into the world.

[simp-ly-writes]

Growing Together

Pairing: Spouse!Gale Dekarios x Spouse!Reader

Summary: Gale learns that the Dekarios clan is expecting a newest addition and his reaction was something you were not expecting to hear. Afterwards you prepare the home for the newcomer, preparing their room as your various friends throughout your adventures send their gifts and merry-wishes to you both.

Warnings: 1475 words, no mentions of pregnancy- only an "expected child."

A/N: Hope you all enjoy this- I was inspired by the Halsin relationship dialogue.

Masterlist | Taglist | edited.

↳ When Gale gets shepherded by Tara out of his educational office and towards his mother's home- he is growing very weary. Various lines crease at his forehead in stress as the worst thoughts come to mind- is she sickly, are they sickly?- did someone attack us again, or is is Astarion scaring the kitchen staff during the middle of the night while looking for a bottle of wine from the cellars?

↳ The wizards thoughts overwhelmed his processing for simple thoughts as his purple robes twirl behind him in the wind- like kites drifting off in the breeze.

↳ Tara refuses to give up any information, a small smile hiding behind her whiskers are she only shakes her head, "I have told you before Mr. Dekarios- I am giving up NOTHING and that is final." She sasses him back while fluttering her wings in growing irritation to his pestering

↳ Gale waits at the door for a moment, his palms sweating- shaking in his boots for what awaited him behind the door

↳ When Gale enters the family home his mother awaits excitedly- almost hanging off his arm as soon as he enters the front door, he winces away from her squealing in his ear as she leads him upstairs and towards the greenhouse where you await smelling the various flowers beginning to bloom.

↳ He rushes up to you, taking you into his arms as he checks you from head to toe before pulling you into a hug, placing his chin atop your head while letting out a breath. Only pulling away to tuck a small kiss against the crown of your head before holding you that bit tighter.

↳ You pat his arm a few times before pleading for release, "Everything alright, love?- any chance you could loose your grip a little, I'm struggling to breathe a bit here dear."

↳ Gale lets go but still keeps an arm around your waist as he walks you both over to a bench with your backs to the sun, Tara cosy's herself on his lap as she purrs contently and Morena coos at the sign singing on how she should hire a painter to capture a portrait of you all together

↳ You all sit there a moment in silence as Gale's foot taps against the tiles anxiously, you place a hand on his knee- rubbing the surface of his pant leg in small circles as you look Morena in the eyes for conformation. She all but nods vigorously that has you in a slight chuckle while looking into Gale's eyes already awaiting your own

↳ You pick up your hand, smoothing out the wrinkles of his forehead, "There is no need for stressing just yet, my love. We have a lifetime of pleasures and pitfalls ahead of us but they are to be all the more valuable and educational with another by our side-"

↳ Gales eyes fall into ones of horror as he stumbles to come up with words to his racing thoughts, he begins to stand before deciding it's better to sit as Tara moves off his lap and into your own- eyeing his reaction while also protecting you if in improbable outburst were to occur

↳ "Now darling- I thought we already discussed this! I am not wishing to share you- dice you up into little edible pieces for anyone but myself to enjoy in this lifetime," Gale states while gripping your hands in his own as he pleads the words to you.

↳ Morena sits across you both, horror across her features as she spits out her tea. Her face is covered in red as she tries to process the words she never thought to be hearing from her son out of all things, the little bookworm and professor himself

↳ You throw your head back in laughter, reeling back in memories of that encounter as you shake your head and try to calm your breathing, "Oh Gale sweetheart- I know we already went over that. We are beyond past that- Merlin!- I decided to marry you silly," you say while giving his cheek a kiss.

↳ "What I have been meaning to tell you is... we are expecting a child! How wonderful is that- the Dekarios clan is expanding!" you state proudly while Morena claps and cheers in the background

↳ Gale's cheeks flush an apple red as he tilts his head away- trying to hide his embarrassment. You allow him as much time as he needs in order to process the information as you pick up your own tea cup, sipping while patiently awaiting for your man to come back down to earth

↳"By Merlin's beard I am at a loss for words- truly," you wince at the start to his sentence as Tara stands, expanding her wings to protect you and Morenas eyes go wide as she begins to formulate a scolding

↳ Gale continues to speak- quicker now, "I-I am overjoyed my love! I think to be going through shock as of current- my! we are to be a family!" The Wizard proclaims before throwing his body into your lap and kissing up your neck to your lips with a wide smile.

↳ Tara yelps loudly before exiting the space underneath the Wizards body and joining Morena who cries happily and dabs her tears off, blowing her nose while fanning her face. Tara tilts her head, observing you both with a small smile coating her feline features, she is happy for the both of you yet her mind is wary of a mimi Gale reaking havoc over the house once more

↳ "We are to teach the of magic my dear! We will tell them the stories of our adventures- introduce them to our closet friends from realms beyond and celebrate every day we share!" Gale cheers as you snuggle into his chest, releasing relieved giggles as you look up at him, capturing lips as you thread his fingers through his brown locks

↳ When you both return to the tower, Gale is already going into dad-mode. Baby-proofing the whole estate while also cursing at the hundreds of dangerous magical artefacts and journals he now has to hide away. You observe from afar, shaking your head before trying to built a crib upstairs with Tara offering commentary at your stuggles while licking her palm from a windowsill

↳ The room was painted a dark blue as you painted the various constellation's and supernatural creates across the ceiling and walls- they shimmered in gold as the plush fur rug warmed your feet- a gift from Halsin

↳ The floorboards are a dark wood that gleam's in the moonlight, Wyll had gifted your family a oil-lamp zoetrope of a magic-user casting various spells as it spun its pictures. You remember collapsing into Gales arms at the sight, crying tears of happiness while Gale laughed in disbelief. It was magical without a single spell being casted- just the same as when the child arrived into his arms

↳ "you are magic," were the first words Gale produced while holding the small-being in his arms for the first time, rocking him against his bare chest as you hummed while warming up some food for the infant

↳ A small music box played in the background, courtesy of Shadowheart (Astarion had added a bottle of wine with the note, good luck, attached to the neck), you could only shake your head at their antics before opening the next gift from Laezel- it was a child-sized sword that had Gale shaking his head, "We will be raising them on magic and texts, not blades and blood."

↳ "maybe some fight training would not be bad- darling. In this world, you can never be too sure," you remark while taking the child into your arms, bouncing them as they reach up towards the various stars on the ceiling

↳ Gale open's the next gift from Karlach, a little jumper sits nicely folded besides the few ashes that fall from out of the box and on to the floor. It has a print of small flames that warm your heart greatly. A final gifts sits aside, Gale's mother had requested for you both to open this one together, you place the child in the crib as Gale commands the bed to rock gently before pulling you out into the hall with a kiss

↳ The large box sits in the foyer as you look to Gale, he nods for you to open it as you excitedly do so before falling back, there sits a portrait of you all- just as Morena said she would do. It hangs in the hallway just outside the child's room as you both take turns getting up throughout the night- but you both couldn't be more content.

[ircnwrought]

amaya, princess of night / lorin donnall body aesthetic

personals and non-mutuals do not interact

violet eyes, specks of starlight swirling in their depths, long lashes

long pitch black hair, wavy and often braided back

full, pale lips

sacred night court tattoo on inner arm

ringed fingers, heavily ornamented, regal bearing

stars and planet tattoo along pronounced collarbone, result of a bargain with rhys

strong back, could previously call wings at will, carries scars of losing her wings and a burn mark of the autumn king's sigil

magic-wielding hands, black painted nails

fae ears

[i-cant-sing]

Hi. So I found this

And you can’t tell me that it doesn’t scream Fushiguro Reader’s drip. She could be wearing the most expensive kimono for her birthday (courtesy of uncle Naoya) but what stood out the most was her footwear. People are supposed to be GUSHING over the kimono but they cant help stare at her sandals

Fushiguro reader is just slurping up her noodles, not caring for manners while everyone stares at her feet

And uncle Naoya is sharpening his blade cuz they being creeps for staring at his niece’s feet

And that was the only time Fushiguro reader didn’t cause her usual chaos because I feel like she loves her uncle enough that she’s willing to offer him some peace and mind on her special day because he became her mom AND her dad ☺️

Platonic Yandere Uncle Naoya x Fushiguro reader

Oh yesss 100%. I mean just imagine that its reader's birthday (who is either a teen/adult now) and Naoya already gifted her the kimono the day before her actual birthday, and by now reader knows that she has to wear it because its a tradition- every year, Naoya gives you a kimono for your birthday (which is the first of many gifts he has for you) and you have to wear it for the birthday portraits he has commisioned for and its followed by a big party at night at home, so yeah... its the same every year because according to him "this is how rich people celebrate their birthdays."

You only comply because he lets you do anything you want for the rest of the day before the big party, plus you do love your uncle. I mean, even if he's an ass sometimes, a misogynist to everyone else, a walking red flag... he still raised you like his own, provided you with all the luxuries and a comfortable life, even after you were "abandoned" by your father. In his own way, you know he loves you and only wants the best for you.

Anyways, its the morning of your birthday, the maids have just finished dressing you up and doing your hair and you go to the living room for your pictures, and as expected the rest of the clan is already there, smiling widely as they all gushed about how pretty you looked in traditional clothing and its a nice sight to see you out of your Hello Kitty shorts and a hoodie with Naoya's face edited on a cockroach. They all start coming towards you, wishing you a happy birthday and envelopes with wads of cash, the females kissing your cheeks and cooing how cute you looked, while the men stiffly patted your head.

After the portrait and family pictures are done, its time for you and Naoya to do stuff you want while the family prepares for your big party.

You're both sitting in the car as the driver takes you to your favourite place- 7/11. "Do you like your kimono?" Naoya asks, looking out his window.

You nod. "I do. Thanks. Its really comfortable."

Naoya turns to look at you. "It better be. Its Chanel."

"Its definitely better than the snakeskin Gucci kimono you got me last year."

"I thought you'd like to know how it feels." Before you could argue, your favourite convenience store came into place and you were already out the door before the car had even came to a full stop, making Naoya yell at the driver for not getting the child locks installed.

-

Naoya could only watch in disgust as you ate downed another bowl of instant ramen before moving onto another one, the noodles smacking against your cheek as you slurped hard.

"Ugh." Naoya cringed as he picked up a napkin to wipe the residues off your face. "Why must you eat so messily? Do I need to send you to table etiquette classes?"

You just shrugged. "Its fun this way." You picked up another onigiri before inhaling it.

"Oh my- can you stop eating like you dont know where your next meal is coming from?!"

"Can you stop screaming? This is a public place, and you're disturbing everyone with your screeching." "You brat-" "Buy me some instant rice. I need to add it to my soup."

As Naoya is walking towards the aisle, grumbling about how this chemical pumped liquid full of MSG that you kill "soup" is gonna kill you one day, he notices some people standing in the corner and just staring at you- or more specifically, your feet.

And thats when Naoya notices those pink monstrosity of sandals.

What's worse is that these people are just gawking so openly, hell they even have their phones out and taking pictures of your feet and its driving Naoya absolutely bonkers because what kind of feet fetish creeps are these guys (some of them are just old grandmas, but Naoya does not discriminate. Everyone's a creep.)

Besides, he doesnt know how long they've been standing there. For all he knows, they could've taken pictures of more than just your feet and Naoya doesn't remember giving them the permission to fucking look, let alone record you!

So, naturally, Naoya stomps over to you and tells you that you need to leave now. Upon inquiring, Naoya tells you about the "creeps" who have been recording you all this time and what not and you just shrug.

"I'm not leaving. Besides, it doesnt bother me."

"Y/n dont start-"

"Cant you take care of it? I thought you said youd let me do anything on my birthday." You take the rice from his hands and dump into in your soup. "This is all sounds like an excuse for either your jealousy because I'm the one who's taking the spotlight or your inability to protect me, hm?"

And Naoya knows- he KNOWS this is your unbothered ass doing reverse psychology on him, but it works.

Because now Naoya has taken their phones, smashed them to the ground until they were pieces and then immediately bought the whole store so that these creeps can be thrown out.

-

"See? I can take care of you. And you wish I was jealous of you."

"Mmhmm." You hummed as you ate your ice cream. The whole store was now empty, so you could eat as much as you wanted in peace.

Naoya narrowed his eyes. "Besides, those sandals were not a good decision. Who let you walk around like that?"

"Your hair is not a good decision. Who let you dye it that color? Does everyone in the hate you so much that they let you walk around like that?" You countered.

"You brat, you're lucky its your birthday."

"I'm also lucky I dont look like a bleached rat, unlike some people who thought that was the shade of blonde they wanted their hair to be."

[cryptidclaw]

Fire and Ice: Rise of Change edition (aka. my redraw of the Fire and Ice cover) is complete! 

This took me FOR EVER, the complete opposite of the Into the Wild cover, that one I completed in 1 night, this one has been a WIP for possibly a month??? Could be more and I wouldn't be surprised. 

This is probably one of the most complicated covers in the first arc, there are so many characters and such a big background! I am not used to illustrating backgrounds like this so at least it was a good push to get me out of my comfort zone! 

Now info about my changes to the cover! The cats in the frame are Bracken(paw) and Cinder(paw), they are both important characters in this book and they are Fire and Gray’s first apprentices (Bracken is more Fire’s apprentice too honestly) so I thought they should get a spot light! Also I want to change a lot of the frames in future covers bec I like the idea of other important characters getting the cover spot light! 

The other characters in the scene behind the frame are Sedgecreek (upper right), Graystripe (upper left), Troutclaw aka. Whiteclaw (below Graystripe), Voleclaw (farthest bottom left), Leopardfur (Next to Voleclaw), Fireheart (bottom middle), and Sand(paw) (bottom right). All of these cats were in the border skirmish between River and Thunder when Fire and Gray were traveling back from bringing back Wind Order! 

Image IDs v

[Image ID: A digital illustration, which is a redraw of the original Warriors: Fire and Ice cover.  At the top of the cover is the Warriors title written in dark purple, and below it is written Fire and Ice which is yellow and lined in the same dark purple. Below the title is a portrait style frame centered in the middle of the cover, this frame depicts Bracken(paw) and Cinder(paw) centered in the frame, sitting next to each other with mirrored blank, wide eyed expressions. They are in a dark night scene and are mostly in shadow with their eyes glowing a bright white. In front of them are black silhouettes of grass, and in the background in a dark blue night sky and a huge bright blue moon lined with white. Behind this frame, filling up the rest of the cover, is a illustration of a battle taking place in a sunset scene of a river surrounded by grass that is mostly lit in yellows and oranges. In the foreground at the bottom of the illustration are 4 cats, there are two on the left of the page, we can only see their angry seemingly yelling faces peaking over a log, the cat farther from the left has her arm raised with her claws unsheathed, the other two cats are faced away from the camera and are looking towards the first two. from left to right the first cat is grey with blue eyes, the second in gold with brown spots and amber eyes, the third is round, chubby and orange, and the forth is a cream and back tortie. In the mid ground are two cats by the river bank, one is standing with their left side showing and they are crouched low to the ground and screeching at something off screen, the other is behind this cat, and is getting ready to pounce on the first cat while screeching. the First cat is a brown and white cat with orange eyes and the second is a big gray tabby with glowing yellow eyes. On the other side of the river is a single cat looking over to the other side, this cat is a brown tabby with green eyes. At the bottom of the cover where the author is usually listed, is written “Rise of Change” in yellow text./End ID]

[cuubism]

I keep thinking abt the Threshold vs the Dreaming, since we don’t see much of the Threshold besides the gallery (did u notice Desire’s sigil in their gallery is a mirror?) but there’s no way the entire Threshold is glossy latex hallways, right? There’s gotta be … furniture? Rooms? At least a bed somewhere? A sitting room? What’s it like in there!!!!! Why doesn’t Desire have their own castle like Dream does???

I have some answers to this actually! Since I just read the relevant comics issue.

In Doll's House the Threshold is described thus:

There is only one thing to see in the twilight realm of Desire. It is called The Threshold. The fortress of Desire. Desire has always lived on the edge. The Threshold is larger than you can easily imagine. It is a statue of Desire, him- her- or it-self. (Desire has never been satisfied with just one sex. Or just one of anything--excepting only perhaps the Threshold itself.) The Threshold is a portrait of Desire, complete in all details, built from the fancy of Desire out of blood, and flesh, and bone, and skin. And, like every true citadel since time began, the Threshold is inhabited.

There is only one occupant, at this time. Desire of the Endless. The Threshold is far too large for just one person. It contains two eardrums larger than a dozen marble ballrooms. And empty, echoing veins, like tunnels. You will walk them until you grow old and die without once retracing your steps. Given Desire's temperament, however, there was only one place in the cathedral of its body to make its home. Desire lives in the heart.

So basically, the idea is that Desire lives within the body, and the rooms we see in the show are the inner chambers of a heart. While dreams are made of fantasy and hopes and stories, Desire is physical to the point of literally being represented by a body -- meanwhile we often interpret Dream as not even really having a body in the first place. And there's a self-consumed, self-referential sense to the Threshold, such that Desire literally lives within itself, and is consumed with and preoccupied by itself, solitary, hidden, shielded. The end of the edition contains the following lines -- Desire walks the chambers of its heart. It walks the Threshold, its citadel and its protection--

The solitude and hard edges of the structure are a shield so Desire does not have to admit outside influence, does not have to admit lack of control -- "Human beings are the creatures of Desire. They twist and bend as I require it -- if I thought otherwise, I would crack, like Delirium; or I would abandon my realm, like our lost brother" -- "Desire walks the endless pathways of its body, certain that it is in sole and only control of its destiny" -- the thought of being subject to outside forces or not being in control is frightening to Desire. Which is ironic, considering how out of our control the feeling of desire is, how it happens regardless of choice, and how hard it is to wrangle back. But the Threshold is also representative of desire as a concept, how one will wander through wanting for one's whole life, always finding new things to look for as each one is satisfied; how frightening it can be to reveal a deeply-held want or relinquish it to another person's control (by revealing feelings for example); how closely we hold our desires to ourselves and how they guide our actions; how desire is usually a very personal and solitary and internal experience.

(I don't know if the Threshold even has furniture, actually. I think it's possible Desire spends a lot of time wandering the many isolated empty halls. Interesting too, how the veins are described as empty and echoing, the heart, presumably, not actually beating at all.)

This comics edition also has that line love is in the realm of Desire and desire is always cruel -- which I'm not sure I agree with conceptually, I think that may be more of Dream's perspective, and that really love might be shared between Dream and Desire's domains, and that the Endless's domains overlap more than they might think -- but that's just my feeling. In the end, I think Dream and Desire's respective realms just reflect their sense of their own domain. They're both holding themselves apart from humanity in different ways - Desire thinks humanity should be subject to them, theirs to play with and manipulate. Dream just thinks that he himself isn't really a person, so he's overseeing and shepherding things, but locked away in his tower, not really connecting or admitting himself any humanity. The fact that their interaction with humanity is so different - Desire localized in the body, in the real, Dream in the mind and the abstract, isn't helping with their strained relationship either.

At least, that's how I like to read it :)

[delicrieux]

𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 & 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐥𝐞 | endless oneshots (winter edition)

pairing—regulus black x reader genre—angstyyy summary—a moment shared in the living room word count—3.4k

masterlist. ☕. reqs are open!

the wall distracts you. the great family tree of the noble house of black. on their velvet sofa you find yourself quite small faced with the vastness of the room – in front, the magnificent tapestry of a lineage woven into time and into objects, like a permanent impact; in back, the frost covered windows, and further still, the late afternoon glow of the sun burning the whole of london. you imagine, briefly, yourself painted in. your small portrait and your name. you long for it in moments; you know no other wish. the shape of you has been made for this only.

how tedious. how meticulously exact the needlework must be to look appealing. how with your wand you can only return the inner lapel of regulus’ coat to its pristine condition and begin again. each time, the frustration threatens to spill through bitten lips. an uncaring loop thrusts through skin and hits bone. you give up, almost, with the silver thread coiled around your fingers like a hair. r. a. b. shouldn’t be too hard, should it? three letters only, sown by hand, a small, meaningless claim to a coat he already owns. as if he can’t recognize his things, how silly. by the seventh poke you wonder if this odyssey has any significance to it. why grapple to capture a tempest in a teapot? you could easily weave it into existence with magic.

it would still be a kind gesture, a thoughtful one. an affectionate one, even, if regulus cared to look – see the tired hands, the waxen expression, the lapel grasped so tightly. the look you’d give for a second because you couldn’t bear to be more honest than that. i did it for you, please wear it and think of me.

but no, it must be done by hand, else the magic won’t work. something about labor, the repetitive loop and pull that sows in more than letters. fixes more than thread. such a potent protection, only from what you can’t say. in a blood-warm waters of a dream, you puzzled over a crystalline cave in search of something precious, only you couldn’t recall what. in april of next year, regulus will die there, and you’ll never know. but he’ll wear the coat with his initials woven by your hand, and that will be enough.

you don’t look up when he enters, but you recognize the footsteps. regulus is never direct, at least, not with you. he’ll circle the tapestry and then circle the windows and circle the coffee table and then he’ll have nothing left to admire so he’ll admire you. sit beside, throw a glance at your pious work and draw, with his eyes, the shape of your profile. think, perhaps, of a branch of the family tree from his portrait to something that doesn’t yet exist, or the rose-bush pattern of the couch and how one branch connects his shoulder with yours.

“what are you doing?”

“making sure you don’t lose your things,” what a non-response, as if he’s known to misplace objects or articles of clothing. regulus can be careless, but never to warrant worry over useless matters such as this. he has many coats, and can purchase just as many if not more, and if petty, he can pilfer from sirius and row because the silence had grown too loud, “don’t make fun of me, it has to be hand-stitched or the enchantments will fade."

"i was never going to," he says, a faint twitch of amusement about the mouth. regulus always likes that you take his jokes seriously or his comments too light. that, from anyone else, you'd hardly even register. it makes him special, perhaps. as though only he is worth the recognition, or you desire him to have it, "...is this my birthday gift?"

"birthday, don't make me laugh," you mumble, biting the inside of your cheek, "would hardly be appropriate. it's a christmas gift."

"christmas." is the offhanded response. a statement, an assessment, but without judgement. only regulus can wield that so cooly. can live in between worlds that should not overlap. androgyne in tone and disposition, and the sound of it, your name, sweet as any chocolate. you glance up and smile wryly, "oh."

"oh indeed," you utter, and the final, hesitant thread is plunged to the fabric. his initials gleam as freshly cut silver. you offer him the needlework, "there." pride fits in your mouth like a candy well liked, sweetens the tone into something likely mocking, "not bad, is it, regulus? or perhaps you think hand-stitching is out of fashion and outdated, a lost art of our aristocratic roots."

regulus doesn't respond. his touch is a cautious one. fingers slide gently across the intricate curve of his initials and trail it upward to the collar and you pretend not to notice. regulus must always inspect things like an artist inspects his pieces. with a certain amount of scorn and longing.

"if it's for christmas," regulus says quietly, still running his fingers along the letters, "do i need to return a gift to you?"

you stop yourself short of giving the response that is right at the tip of your tongue. the verbiage is odd. instead, "return?"

"yes. to match, or rather, one that compliments. does such a custom matter much?"

"ah, well," it does, of course it does. such gifts are not for two sides. they're something sacred for one side only. he's not nimble with his fingers nor patient enough to wield a needle. he'd quit before the first draw of blood on cloth from his useless hands. he could magic it, but that would feel like a lie. what is this offer, or is it a suggestion? an implication? more daring than the look he gives you, certainly. no, he couldn't possibly imply something so domestic. regulus is not the type. so it can only be you reading too much. a stanza where there should be none, "you'd ruin my coat."

"naturally," regulus doesn't smile, not even to go along with his deadpanned tone, as though he could think of no better possibility, but you know better, or at least you tell yourself this. you do; how his head tips slightly towards you, the steady gaze, and the quirk of his brow, it's a rare breed of expression he dons only to you, when he can't bring himself to a more chaste form. you could spend hours sorting every fraction of difference, so keen they are to the point that you swear they must exist. you wouldn't be surprised if someone else says they see nothing,"... a handmade gift for a handmade gift. just for you."

"for me," is all you can muster in response, perhaps hoping you'd hear it clearer, and less vague and silly, in your mouth than his. he has given you presents. lovely, but impersonal. his brother shows more interest even if he has none for you. sirius hears but regulus listens and then willfully picks things everyone would like to receive. the ideal gifts, never with heart or consideration, yet you wear them proudly to hide your bitterness, because such attention is not unwanted, and neither is this. regulus is not incapable of more but his more is reduced to a subtle nothing, like a glance at the tapestry and a thought.

"...the needle's sharp." is the offhand observation, "you're bleeding."

regulus's concern is odd and undefined; you're not the most affectionate of friends. the fondness shared, the gentle jibes, are for you, really, because how else can you convince yourself you're happy. or to soothe the aching of that pesky hope, the wish and want of the moon reflected upon water. your gaze is steady. your hand is steady, "see how much i care?" and you hold up your middle finger with a smile, "i bleed for you."

he does look at it. his lips quirk into a ghost of a smile. "do you." he says, and returns to you, the trace of a frown on his face as though he's grown distressed with such a gesture, and like an adult will scold their pet for bad behavior, says, "really, that's quite silly. no, worse. don't do such unnecessary things to your pretty hands."

pretty, he says, and how easy would it be to mock him or put him in his place with a joke and a teasing word or two. is he making fun of you again? it's only an insult when delivered to the point. and it would feel worse when he isn't, when he's just offering a compliment in a strange sort of way.

"doesn't hurt that much." you say with a confidence unshaken, and the wounds are so meager they're not even worth healing. they'll dry and close before he can lift his wand for episkey or conjure a bandage. but they'll remain, for a day or two, as proof of your diligence. the methodical elegance that comes from creating a handmade gift. you'll look at your hands and know they have worked to protect him.

it hurts a bit more when he reaches for them. if you really did want to press, he'd insist or, with a haughty glare, defy you and prove the strength of his own silly pride, but he only asks, and then, does so with such tenderness you would think he held glass and not your injured hands, the result of a restless task meant for his comfort. your fingers stings the slightest against the brush of his fingertips, calloused and slightly cold, "...you've always been a fool."

"only when it matters," you say softly.

when he says your name, he lingers on the last syllable, with the tilt of his head and the curious narrow of his eyes. to pick apart and discern. to wonder. only briefly, like all his attentions, does the hand linger. the expression you want is not one he'd be willing to show so clearly, not even in the warmth of the dying light.

"stop saying ridiculous things." regulus says after a pause. he won't, however, release your hands. they remain there in his grip, unmoving and together.

"learn to take a joke," you answer.

he leans forward. "make it funny and perhaps i will."

"funny," you can't say a thing to that, yet you've thought up many. later, when he is asleep and his pale face is illuminated by the moonlit night, you'll recite all the things you could not.

"got nothing else to say?" a quirk of the lip. joined hands, fingers intertwined, though not so securely. loose enough that if the mood strikes or a strange sentiment overcomes him, he'd break them apart and away.

"oh, plenty," you can't keep your face straight, and so your smile is quick to return, "i’ve only taken pity on you. did you miss the sound of my voice already?"

"very presumptuous, aren't we," he glances aside, "and really, so outlandish. the nerve. you have the nerve."

"i suppose i do." you squeeze his hand lightly, "nerve. candor. the quality that earns a great admirer."

"or the ire of all who know you best," he tilts his head to the side, glances quickly at you, and with a surprising amount of assertiveness, curls his fingers tighter around yours, "i appreciate that you'd like to share your charisma but some people don't consider charm to be a particularly laudable virtue."

"that's such a bad lie that i might as well be told you don't think i'm charming at all, not in the slightest. and oh, there we are, what a pout. you're entirely predictable."

"and you entertain me, still."

"you're the one that holds my hands hostage," you note wryly, wiggling your fingers slightly.

regulus doesn't have a quick response for that. at most he offers the roll of his eyes. doesn't let go, simply presses. let's a drop of your blood stain his skin. when he speaks again, he's grown thoughtful, "...hostage, yes?"

"...oh, do stop that," a pause. the silence lingers, "no, that's quite unfair."

"do you think so or not?"

your pulse throbs loud enough to deafen you. it is a foolish question and the answer is a clear enough indication of what you think. what motive could he have? to delight at the humiliation of your confession or to watch you tangled in a lie you clearly don't believe? the truth is so obvious it's untactful to inquire about its validity.

he sounds so serious as his thumb brushes along the dips and hills of your knuckles, "well? your answer? or is a minute not enough to think of something witty?"

at this, you frown, "regulus." and it comes quiet, like a warning.

"thought it came naturally to you. such creativity."

he has grown to be cruel sometimes. most times, rather, when it suits him to be. a petty, petulant thing not yet ready to leave its comfortable shell and grow beyond, "you must be eager for me to release you," he adds. a bitter afterthought.

"are you done?" you ask.

"what shall you do with your hands once they’re free?" he wonders, "sow something for sirius? he’d be wrecked if he didn’t receive a gift like mine."

"regulus." you repeat with a frown, "don't."

"why not?" he blinks.

"a gift doesn't mean anything if it's a gift for the masses."

"well, it'll be custom, i imagine," he says, "with his initials this time."

"regulus," a third time you've said it, a sharp tongue to cut, "stop it. you're being mean."

his eyes are cast downward, expression impassive. "if this is what it takes to get you to respond, then perhaps i am."

this isn't the game. the one where he'll pretend not to care so as to observe how you'll react. it is the type where you'll act cold enough he'll hesitate. then he'll carelessly expose himself so the hurt can be delivered with ease. an offense so great you'll seek the sweet relief of exile.

"i made it for you," you utter, barely a whisper, "no one else."

"is that so."

"if you don't want it, i won't force you to keep it."

"no, i like it," his expression has remained the same, if not with a certain lack of conviction, a flat tone you want to interpret as some half lie, but you don't. instead you nod. a half-hearted turn of your head before meeting his eyes.

"a bit possessive, don't you think? getting so cross over a made up problem?" you inquire.

"made up, huh?" you like the inflections of his voice, and even in his reluctance he maintains them, the gentle flow, the steadfast determination to the subject.

"mhm."

"thought it was logical to assume. you're friends."

"i have a different gift planned for him."

"different?" he clarifies.

"quite," you say, all sorts of bitter, "a broom cleaning kit."

that, at least, seems to somewhat appease him. and regulus settles, ever so slightly, his brow a faint twitch. the motion you always want to trace with your fingers, and map along until you memorize every curve and line and plane of his face.

he adjusts your hands again, idly thumbing over the slope and curve. he is thoughtful again, contemplative and somber and nothing more. a lingering fear clings to the curve of his mouth, "do you ever wish you could disappear?"

the question has no context, and it strikes you as the type that never did, with a subtle heaviness he is familiar with the implications of. it is only in a selfish way that the fear occurs. his isolation, perhaps. or he must assume that all others can share a similar loneliness, though only in different quantities.

"do you?" you ask instead.

"perhaps. sometimes. maybe not." he does, you think, look as though he often considers running away to somewhere no one else is aware of him. or if he's not wanted there, then elsewhere. somewhere remote and a touch fantastical. a desperate escape from family tradition, from being the second born son. a desire, or rather, absconding from responsibility. to be far and forgotten; to live a life you believe would bring you some semblance of peace and happiness, though not enough for the longing to subside and never enough for him to admit to it. no, regulus would first die than admit it out loud.

admit the envy he has for his brother. admit to wonder if anyone would look for him if he was to disappear.

you would. even if the rest wouldn't, you would. and if they did, how angry it'd make them if you refused to quit searching. it strikes you suddenly and without remorse, as if you've been pushed into a pile of snow. it's him you were searching for in your dream.

"no, then?" his voice shakes you away. your expression had frozen over, had it? how rare it is, to see worry worn so openly in the shape of those brows.

"sometimes," you answer honestly, though you're never quite sure where that might be. a growing, restless worry expands in the pit of your stomach. as though your nightmare is not so far from becoming reality. that one day, you'll search for him to the edge of the earth only to never find him again, "you aren't thinking of leaving, are you?"

he's taken aback by your expression. "of course not," he reassures, and he seems as though he means it, "i'm only indulging hypotheticals."

"alright."

"are you okay?"

"sure. yes. yes, absolutely."

regulus peers at you closely, scrutinizing, the gesture intense and pointed in its nature. and he returns to tracing the veins on your skin, a practiced art. a light tickle that has you shivering, not that you'd want to move away. never from him.

you hear him, soft and hushed. perhaps it is more suited to the intimacy of the moment and not that he's become ashamed. a faint, lovely mumbling that you would like to indulge forever if possible, "i'm really not going anywhere." he brings your hand to his lips after a moment of hesitation, like he needs the courage, the comfort. an earnest reassurance in a form of a small kiss as if it were his own insecurities at play, "here's okay. here's more than enough."

you nod. whisper, when you realize how close the two of you have become, "yes, stay here."

"...you as well."

"i will."

"wouldn't want to run around looking for someone who's meant to stay within my sights, anyways."

and it is you that laughs a little too hard to seem genuine, "as though you'd do such a thing."

he answers with a confidence unshaken yet poorly disguised by the restraint shown, "i don't plan on ever losing sight of you."

your eyes meet and hold, but neither will ever confess to be the one who glanced away first. for different reasons, perhaps, and no less of a humiliation. no less difficult to accept. the sight of him is too difficult to bear; the hair framing his face and the gentle hue of pink that grows steadily redder the longer he holds your gaze. he drops your hand first, and you resist the urge to run your fingertips down the sharp of his jaw and feel the softness of his skin or tug his bottom lip and hear the shuddering intake of air. to feel what can't be expressed, at least, not so simply.

you can't blame regulus for not wanting to admit it. he's shaped by his surroundings, has grown up in a family that doesn't permit affections. he doesn't know the structure of i'm sorry or thank you or i love you. but if only for a second, surely, he can try to imitate. you treasure each of his clumsy syllables and failed tries because he has never attempted anything of this sort for anyone else. the success doesn't matter, because he is earnest, at least to the degree of his own understanding and limit, and it's easier to say what's painful in silence.

or, maybe, nothing's difficult when the sun's nearly gone. when the window pane burns pink and white, and when the stars appear through the haze of fog and snow, and you think of the future, with him, but as the heirs of two prominent houses together, and it feels like a fairy tale that way, not quite real. so long as you imagine it with a dreamy detachment, you can convince yourself it doesn't matter further than a wish that will never come true.

because you've never learned to say i'm sorry or thank you or i love you, either.

thank u for reading <3