#CRIMLUNE.

[sordidery]

🍓 :)

i really love the way you structure your sentences. i know that is a weird compliment but i feel like each sentence is JAM PACKED with emotion and greater character exploration and plot. while not being too wordy or run on sentences. how tf do you do that. also you write bitches in love SOOO WELL. your smitten characters are so much fun to read they have me kicking my damn feet and we haven’t even written together yet. you very much will find me locked the fuck in and caught up on all your recent threads. hell fucking yeah

[theirmadness]

@crimlune. ♡

[theirmadness]

@crimlune: ellen & thomas. ♡

staring at her reflection in the mirror, ellen can barely believe the blushing bride staring back at her is herself. a year prior, when it was her best friend's wedding, ellen had found herself wondering if the time would ever come for her own nuptials. would there ever be a living soul brave enough to take her to wed? and alas, the fates had been kind! god had brought her, her sweet and loving thomas...

ah, thomas. a breath of fresh air, kissed right into her cold lips, lighting the fire inside her that had died long ago. her nights were no longer cold and lonely, and her days no longer a sleepy haze. she was now someone's wife. she spent the entire day grinning. the wedding was nothing like anna's, but ellen thought it was the most beautiful event she had ever attended. thomas had gone out of his way to make it special, with what little money they had available for such a thing. ellen insisted she did not wish for him to spend much on it.

but thomas never listened when it came to pleasing his wife. and pleased her he had. the cabin he had brought her to was wonderful. a wedding present from anna and her wealthy husband. a week away at this lovely place, where they could spend time alone. she giggled to herself as she started to remove the pins and flowers from her hair. thomas had insisted on bringing her something to drink himself, and she felt lighter and happier, as if she were on a cloud. a wedding band on her finger, and hutter added to her last name, she was so happy.

when she hears his approaching footsteps, she turns on the vanity, having rid herself of the simple but beautiful wedding gown and now wearing only her undergarments, her dark hair cascading down her pale shoulders, she smiles lovingly at her husband, who looks at her like no one has ever looked at her before. ellen's entire body hums with love and anticipation. thomas has been proper, he has waited. oh, but she can not wait any longer. ❝ what are you waiting for, mr. hutter? will you not kiss your wife? ❞ her tone is breathless.

[histeriae]

⋆  .       ♱ ﹐       @crimlune   ╱   thomas   intimately   washes   ink   from   ellen’s   hands.

SHADOWS   DARKER   THAN   NIGHT   spread   their   tendrils   in   chilling   water;   ellen   sat   unmoving,   gaze   remarkably   absent   for   just   a   moment   before   her   attention   shifted   to   the   man   kneeling   before   her.   her   slender,   soft   hands   trembled   ever   so   slightly   with   each   contact   they   made   with   the   soaked   cloth,   now   ink—ruined.   if   ellen’s   mind   wandered   elsewhere,   it   was   only   for   an   instant and she paid the unwelcome thoughts little mind.

❝  thank you,  ❞   came   out   her   voice   in   the   faintest   of   whispers,   undisturbing   the   sacred   candlelit   silence   of   the   late   evening.   it   was   only   a brief   thing,   thomas’   hand   coming   in   contact   with   her   own   —   but   the warmth   of   his   flesh   soothed   her   chilled   palms,  freshly—clean.   thomas   —   oh,   her   thomas!   her   fingers   clasped   ever   so   gently   around   his,   seeking   further   reprieve   from   the   water’s   cold;   a   faint   smile   adorned   the   soft   features   upon   which   light   and   shadow   danced   from   the   ignited   candle.   ❝  you’re   so   very   kind   to me.  ❞

[hechose]

i want to forget. just help me forget. // @crimlune ( nicki. )

something in the words rings true with armand, connects with something deep in his soul, something... tucked away. swept over and instead painted gold and blue. oh, for all the ways he has been fascinated with nicolas, for all of the ways it has been a curious, beautiful little game, there is such... depth too. such hidden, private honesty and even care about the way armand looks at him, touches him, holds him sometimes.

( does he not orchestrate his whole life, his entire being on the notion of forgetting, of rewriting? even if sometimes he does it so naturally, he is not aware of the edits? )

he blinks back into focus and smiles. something gentle, but there in the corners, something with the promise of wickedness, of something sharp and armand raises a hand to quickly grip nicolas' face. tight grip sudden, holding at chin and sliding against jaw as he turns nicolas' face, tilts toward him, meeting eyes with severity before it it turned away instead so armand might move in closer, might bring lips to ear and let breath ghost against skin.

"do you give yourself to me, nicolas? do you devote yourself to me, mon petit monstre?" a sigh as he lingers and even without a taste, without sinking fangs into flesh, he can smell the madness, that intoxicating, horrifying darkness within. how it calls to him. how he wishes to silence it for nicki, even if only for mere hours.

"on your knees for me, hands together in front of you. i'll give you all you need."

[d-eadeye]

... @crimlune; FOR ELLEN, 𐚁.

Her touch, too, seemed nervous. It breached his silt-shrouded purlieu with a tremulous quiver and even thrust as he had been into the throes of wounded pain, he could not let the opportunity for a quip escape them both.

"I ain't gon' bite'cha, honey. Not unless you mean t'use that fine bourbon as an antiseptic."

[ohsunshine]

caress. gently caress my muse’s face. for armand › from nicolas. / ( @crimlune )

Armand's instinct is to pull away from the gentle touch, or else to brace for it to turn painful. He hides the notion well; he does not pull away. Instead, he leans into it, his eyes fluttering closed. He knows, thanks to dozens of paintings in his youth, that he makes a handsome image like this, his head slightly bowed, eyelashes fanning against the gentle upper curve of his cheek. It's a performance, as more things are, but it cuts closer to the truth than anything else might, a very real longing for connection that he allows to surface for air before he inevitably tries to drown it again.

"What do you want from me?" he asks, another performance of uncertainty, all for Nicolas' benefit. It gives the illusion of power in their relationship, the pretence of Armand offering him a choice, instead of allowing him to see the truth, which is that Armand is floundering, desperate for guidance. This is all still so new after centuries of denial, and he feels like a creature made entirely of appetite, starving for more.

Unbidden, his hand reaches for Nicolas', pressing it to his cheek as if he might like to absorb that point of contact into his very being and carry it with him always.

Their eyes meet, and Armand reaches for Nicolas' other hand, his eyes wide and shining in the darkness. "Grant me one moment more of this and you may ask of me anything."

[altarcup]

(aftermath): after a battle/war, sender and receiver reunite thinking the other was dead. for viktor › from jayce.

in the blooming light, he went blind almost instantly. ( he hadn’t known a soul could go blind. ) 𝚜𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚜𝚙𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚠𝚗 𝚊��𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚌𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚊𝚕 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚊𝚐𝚎  ‒‒   for a flickering second, he was still solid in the places jayce was touching him   ( . . . )   h̳a̳n̳d̳ ̳i̳n̳ ̳w̳r̳e̳t̳c̳h̳e̳d̳ ̳h̳a̳n̳d̳,̳ both wrapped around the seedling of their last collaboration. his shoulder, as he’d done so many times, in jest, to draw notice, in support, 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚊𝚢 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚘𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚠𝚒𝚜𝚎 𝚜𝚘 𝚍𝚒𝚏𝚏𝚒𝚌𝚞𝚕𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚗𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚌𝚎 ( “i’m sorry,” “you are my best friend,” “i have looked down on you, but i never will again.” ) and then, with one last jumping spark, one last synapse firing, one last conscious thought before the great ending, the great beginning  ‒‒   they were dust.

now, viktor was remembering everything.

every timeline, every possibility. every attempt to find jayce and teach him the knowledge needed to 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐩 𝐡𝐢𝐦, 𝐤𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐢𝐦, 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐲 𝐡𝐢𝐦. jayce as a small, chubby-cheeked child, gazing with nameless wonder at the newfound center of his life ; 𝚜𝚘 𝚜𝚖𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚋𝚕𝚞𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚢 and infintely powerful in this little hand. the smoking rubble of a piItover apartment, 𝘫𝘢𝘺𝘤𝘦 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘢𝘪𝘵𝘭𝘺𝘯 𝘬𝘪𝘳𝘢𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘯’𝘴 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘤𝘰𝘢𝘭𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦. a place where borders didn’t exist between them, where they’d grown up scraping themselves bloody on the same polished cobblestone, where they went on to visit the same classes and create the same hotwire-death for humanity, because b̳o̳r̳d̳e̳r̳s̳ ̳d̳i̳d̳n̳’̳t̳ ̳e̳x̳i̳s̳t̳ ̳b̳u̳t̳ ̳s̳u̳f̳f̳e̳r̳i̳n̳g̳ ̳d̳i̳d̳,̳ a̳l̳w̳a̳y̳s̳,̳ ̳ ̳a̳l̳w̳a̳y̳s̳ ̳d̳i̳d̳,̳ and because viktor hadn’t learned the truth about that yet. he never did, at least not quite fast enough. worlds where they were magnets to each other, worlds where they hated each other 'to a bitter end, lives they lived completely separate from one another but for a crucial, fleeting moment that allowed for infinite ends to infinite worlds. 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚕𝚍𝚜 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚟𝚒𝚔𝚝𝚘𝚛 𝚍𝚒𝚎𝚍, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚋𝚞𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚍.

birdsong on the hill. flowers blooming from jayce’s coral skull. viktor opened his eyes and found, instantly, that in infinite iterations of viktors, none of them seemed to know how to let go of a friend. fleshy, aching, lame, kneeling was impossibly painful but necessary to try, even if just for a mad and fruitless minute, to peel jayce’s calcified fingers from his hammer. i̳t̳ ̳w̳o̳u̳l̳d̳ ̳h̳a̳v̳e̳ ̳m̳a̳d̳e̳ ̳n̳o̳ ̳d̳i̳f̳f̳e̳r̳e̳n̳c̳e̳. there was no body to save from the impact of the dying world. it was already too late, it had already happened, over and over and over again in full, excruciating, perfect colour. the blue butterfly brushed him with its wing as it whispered past the memorial of the world, 𝚙𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚖, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚗𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚑𝚞𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚏𝚊𝚒𝚕𝚞𝚛𝚎, on to jayce taIis, flesh-and-blood, standing on a patch of grass, simple gaping mouth and silly twitching brows. and viktor did something truly shocking. he gave up on trying to understand.

[sordidery]

@awendraig ‘s (drunken) will herondale, for tessa gray: "you are here, you are here, you're still right here."

a soft laugh, sincere and low, her eyebrows crinkling together. he brings with him a rush of air that smells like outside: rain, spices, alcohol. she hadn’t even known he’d left the institute, but here he is, in the hallway closest to her and jem’s rooms, damp with london rain. distantly, she wonders which room he was heading towards, who he meant to visit.

“yes, will, i have not yet performed a vanishing act.” tessa gray does not pity will herondale. she loathes to give him that much attention. this is not to mean she does not give him that attention, because she does, hopelessly drawn to his presence like he is the only source of light in the room, but she has the common sense to loathe herself for it. “perhaps tomorrow.” she tacks onto her teasing a moment too late, distracted by taking in the color at will's cheeks, wetness in his gaze. nathaniel had been intoxicated in her presence a great many times, but his vice only seemed to lead him down a path of anger. will did not look angry. nor did he look elated, as he often did when drinking, as though he was experiencing freedom for the first time. tessa found it difficult to imagine what freedoms were not already afforded to him.

her tongue clicks, the sound of her opening her mouth to speak and finding herself unsure of what to say. there have been a great many times where tessa has attempted to hate will herondale. he is often brash, petulant, impolite. he is nearly impossible to beat in a quarrel and he is often uncaring with temper. worst of all, just when she manages to deem him completely irredeemable, tessa always seems to catch him in a private moment. when he is unguarded, his strong face contorts into something downtrodden and lonely, and her affection for him dutifully crawls back to the surface. “will? are you quite alright?”

[luminescenc1e]

He melts into every touch she grants him, as if the universe itself bends to her whim. A life without her? Unthinkable now. Everything they’d endured—against all odds, against every force that sought to tear them apart—had led to this moment. Alive. Together. As one.

His pulse thrums under his skin, wild and relentless, as his hands move instinctively, knowing every curve, every reaction. They trace the lines of her body like a song he’s memorized but never grown tired of playing. Being with her was everything, and yet it was never enough. Always more. He craved her endlessly, a hunger that no amount of time could sate.

He’d been unsure once, nervous even—asking her to marry him, and she’d said no. For a moment, he’d been shaken, though he would never admit it aloud. Perhaps he’d rushed it, still unaccustomed to the luxury of peace, to the absence of battles for their right to exist together. Maybe it was the lingering fear that the world, or worse, the underworld, would find some way to tear them apart again. But he would wait. He would give her the years she needed—if only to prove to himself that he could.

Her lips graze his neck, soft and deliberate, and a shiver runs down his spine. His head tilts back, eyelids fluttering shut as her breath warms his skin. “And aren’t you lucky,” he teases, his voice low and whispered, “to have such a captivating muse?”

His eyes open slowly, a smirk tugging at his lips. The past few weeks had awakened something in him. He’d been playing the piano more than he had in years, every melody steeped in her. Some pieces he hadn’t shared with her yet—they felt too raw, too intimate, like baring a piece of his soul he wasn’t quite ready to part with.

She asks him something, but his brain falters, caught between her words and the way her skin glows in the soft light. His gaze moves over her, devouring her. No matter how often he sees her like this, it always feels like the first time. She’s breathtaking. And she’s his.

“I want everything,” he says, voice rough with desire. “All of it, Clary.”

With renewed determination, he wraps an arm around her waist, pulling her effortlessly beneath him onto the bed. He knows she lets him. That knowledge thrills him as much as her touch. “But if I have to choose, you here, with me, is the only thing I need.”

Settling between her legs, his lips press against her chest, moving slowly, reverently, yet with an urgency he can’t fully contain. It’s a battle—two sides of him warring for dominance. One wants to lose himself in her, to take everything now; the other wants to linger, to draw it out, to savor every second. In the end, he lets her decide, reading her signals, her words, her body.

His lips travel lower, brushing against her stomach as he nips at her skin, a playful grin flashing across his face. Strands of golden hair fall against her, brushing her like a whisper. “I’m going to make us late for our date,” he murmurs, laughter in his tone, before silencing himself in the best way he knows how.

clary relishes the kiss to her forehead,   his sun-kissed and sturdy arms surrounding her.   he makes it easy to forget every obstacle it took to get to this point:   the youngest shadowhunters to head an institute,   a space dedicated to her art and jace’s music,   a place as much a home as it is a 𝒻𝑜𝓇𝓉𝓇𝑒𝓈𝓈.   ❛ maybe … you should make me a scrapbook or something, ❜   she suggests,   peering up from his shirt with a playful glint in her verdant eyes.   clary rumbles with a gentle laugh.   ❛ only for when you’re missed,   of course,”   she echoes,   feigning innocence as her teeth worry at her bottom lip. welcoming his kiss a little too enthusiastically,   clary’s freckled cheeks burn with a blush comparable to her red locks.   she rises to her tiptoes to further display her eagerness,   her need wordlessly.   mouth parting further,   a soft sound emits from her throat as their kiss grows in passion.

when she’s lifted from the floor,   clary grins against jace,   the tip of her nose pressing to his.   pale legs  —  scuffed knees and scars from childhood  —  naturally hug jace’s hips securely.   she settles in his lap atop her bed,   hips pressing down into his as her fingers reach for his unruly blond curls,   twirling one around her graphite-stained finger. soft sighs part clary’s lips further under jace’s ministrations.   goosebumps rise against her fair skin and a pleasant shiver shoots down her spine,   the flame to her trying match.   ❛ my muse … you’ve always been my muse,   𝒿𝒶𝒸𝑒, ❜   she breathes reverently,   her very own kiss finding the line of his jaw,   the sweet flutter of his pulse point.   ❛ is that right?   any photo? ❜   clary asks,   tentatively darting out her tongue along his skin,   barely tacky from an uneventful hunt.   this new territory  —  this game they play  —  pools arousal in her gut.   ❛ and what say you, hm?   more photos of me as well,   or are you … content with the real thing? ❜   clary asks,   breathless as she courageously strips off her cami to reveal her baby pink,   sheer and lace bra.   a 𝒹𝒶𝒾𝓃𝓉𝓎 bow sits in the middle.

[ohsunshine]

romantic gestures: bold what applies to your muse, italicize if there's potential (or if it depends). / ( astarion )

it should be noted that astarion would offer all of these if he thought that his partner would enjoy them SO i'm just doing the ones that he likes.

holding hands ( in public ) · buying flowers · cooking · cuddles · writing a poem / song · holding door open · tying shoe laces · sharing a milkshake with two straws · offering their jacket when it's cold · kissing in the rain · publicly confessing love · long walks at the beach · doing the titanic pose on a boat · kissing the back of their hand · slow dancing · introducing them to their parents · lighting candles · flower petals on bed · love letters · stargazing · brushing / doing their hair · picnics · teaching them to play an instrument while gently guiding their hands · compliments · drawing them · self-made gifts · massages · proposing with a family heirloom ring · lending them their favorite book to read · paying for dinner / coffee · surprise birthday parties · feeding them · handing them keys to their apartment · making space in drawer for their clothes when they stay over · sharing a blanket · couple costumes · tucking a hair strand behind their ear · keeping them from leaving · moving cities to be together · blowing a kiss · breakfast in bed · defending them in a fight ( verbally / physically ) · joint bubble baths · dropping the l-bomb ( "i love you" ) · dedicating a song to them · wearing their clothes · yawning before putting an arm around them while watching a movie · grant them the last bite ( of a meal ).

i don't really see astarion as a very touchy-feely person, even once he's in a stable relationship with someone he trusts. there's, of course, exceptions to this, and he's generally more open to physical affection in private, but for the most part, i'd say he's more of a quality time sort of guy out of anything, and he detests anything that feels too earnest or cheesy. there's so very few bold things on this list woops but so much of it depends on just like. how he's feeling, how comfortable he is with someone, uhhh you know how it is.

tagged by: @crimlune thank u 💖

tagging: @rvolving (gimme halsin) / @bloodebayou (& ur other blogs if u want) / @stdulac / @embodies (ur choice) / & YOU.

[altarcup]

how’d you find me? for armand › from nicolas.

𝖎 simply followed 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚚𝚞𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚘𝚗𝚐 of an instrument battered ; the ghost of a̳ ̳t̳r̳e̳e̳ ̳c̳u̳t̳ ̳d̳o̳w̳n̳ long 𝔞𝔤𝔬, howling and haunting the catacombic bowels of the theatre, begging to be laid to rest. instead, he was torturing it with ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑜𝑤𝑛 𝑠𝑢𝑓𝑓𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔. 𝐢 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥, watching. when enough time had passed that it appeared i had missed my cue, i cast off the sculpted cloak of my 𝖘𝖙𝖎𝖑𝖑𝖓𝖊𝖘𝖘 with a single tilt of my head. Iestat had likened me to a̳ ̳d̳o̳l̳l̳,̳ ̳u̳n̳m̳o̳v̳i̳n̳g̳,̳ 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 stiff yet limp to his manipulations.

what did Iestat know? he was nothing but a child to me. and nicolas? worse so. my 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐢𝐦 rose to the tip of my tongue, before it tangled 𝖆𝖗𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖉 𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊. around pity. around grief. enough of it to bury us both in this tunnel, leave us to 𝖇𝖊 𝖋𝖔𝖗𝖌𝖔𝖙𝖙𝖊𝖓.      ❛❛  where else would you be,  ❜❜      i said eventually, 𝚠𝚘𝚘𝚍𝚎𝚗, 𝚊𝚖𝚋𝚒𝚐𝚞𝚘𝚞𝚜. after all, Iestat was the acteur, nicolas the artiste,   ( . . . )  and i̳,̳ ̳t̳h̳e̳ ̳d̳o̳l̳l̳. one of these days i might kill him just to prove that i can disobey.      ❛❛  you must 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝 tonight.  ❜❜

[nightmarefuele]

difficult person test

Ren.

generally accurate. when he manipulates he is technically quite sincere. he is grandiose, but rightfully; still considers himself a vessel for something greater. aggression and risk-taking are situational. voice crackle helm vc there is no risk in the eyes of the ren.

Surri.

mhm.

(she's aggressive and insecure but she (sort of) cares.)

Inserv.

tagged by: @deficd

more aggression, risk-taking. less manipulation, slightly more suspicion, but only because he is that which executes ren's commands.

i so love that they fill in each other's blanks. this is the way.

tagging: @kinomorebi, @kylo-wrecked (& the knights! especially he knights.) @petitsdieu, @mentatemperor, @valkxrie, @horroreverent, @silverjetsystm, @muchmorethanmuses, @howlrs / @gravesung, @crimlune

[skinclocks]

❝ you wouldn't. you are one of the strongest people i know. ❞ she puts her faith in him like she used to put onto porcelain angels inside her hands, held while praying at the chappel near her old home. looking at him now, it was hard and easy to breathe at once ; they were still courting, by all words, but both had gone beyond that propriety when faced with death - no choice - and truly, no blame was felt for it even if perhaps there should be some present. tessa studied him, small grin appearing on her lips as well. indeed, will would not be set aflame anytime soon. neither would she. for some while, things would be quiet and a bit melancholic before the wheel continued to turn.

tessa half blushes, half doesn't, under his gaze. was it so soon she discovered herself to be less prone to rosy cheeks than before? his words made her hear soar, and a giggle come through teeth. ❝ you are such a poet. when will you write me more letters ? i long for them as much as i long for ... ❞ words died before they were born. he would know what she meant, and that ought to be enough. she cleaned her throat, stepping away.

❝ what about a bath? you are so sweaty, will ! ❞ and it did not bother her at all. the way his white shirt was tight against chest and muscles, almost see through. the runes gazzing back at her. tessa pointed to the small ajointed door of her quarters. ❝ you can have it here. ❞ terrible idea.

tessa’s touch eases the indescribable feeling in will’s chest,   the pang behind the faded 𝓅𝒶𝓇𝒶𝒷𝒶𝓉𝒶𝒾 rune forever etched into his skin.   she needn’t say much,   for they shared a great understanding,   an even greater love of the fantastic spark that was james carstairs.   and after a lifetime of believing himself to be cursed,   denying himself the love he’d rather drown in,   well …   a severe adjustment was in order.   𝓉𝑒𝓈𝓈, 𝓉𝑒𝓈𝓈, 𝓉𝑒𝓈𝓈𝒶.   a force of a woman.   without her,   he begins to lose his meaning.   ❛ i fear i would well and truly crash and burn without you,   tess, ❜   will confesses,   solemn face softening exponentially under her gaze. a silent prayer is answered when tessa’s lovely fingers traverse his forehead,   tousling his hair off of his tacky skin.   she is a balm to his aches and worries,   the concerned furrow of his brow melting away beneath her touch.   then, will recognizes that pert look in her slate-colored eyes,   the corners of his mouth turning upright at her words.

he reaches for her,   finger and thumb settling at the curved jut of her jaw.   ❛ i rather like looking at you, ❜   he says,   his gaze unabashedly roving over her pale blue frame. courting became rather difficult when one had already indulged in the other’s flesh,   the moment shrouded in shared grief,   in 𝓁𝒾𝒻𝑒 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒹𝑒𝒶𝓉𝒽.   it was silly to revert to usual societal customs,   to norms after such an experience,   but,   here will was:   attempting to do this right.   to be the man tessa deserved.   perhaps, to proceed like 𝒿𝑒𝓂 would.   and yet …   his hand slides from her chin to the apple of her cheek,   slender fingers splayed to cup her face.   ❛ you are my sun on london’s eternal cloudy days,   the star on my shoulder when we are apart, ❜   will murmurs,   eyes settling on her cupid’s bow.   ❛ thank you,   my dear. ❜

[theirmadness]

romantic gestures.

BOLD what applies to your muse. ITALICIZE if there's potential / it depends. repost, don't reblog.

sansa's gestures...

holding hands ( in public ) · buying flowers · cooking · cuddles · writing a poem / song · holding door open · tying shoe laces · sharing a milkshake with two straws · offering their jacket when it's cold · kissing in the rain · publicly confessing love · long walks at the beach · doing the titanic pose on a boat · kissing the back of their hand · slow dancing · introducing them to their parents · lighting candles · flower petals on bed · love letters · star gazing · brushing / doing their hair · picnics · teaching them to play an instrument while gently guiding their hands · compliments · drawing them · self-made gifts · massages · proposing with a family heirloom ring · lending them their favorite book to read · paying for dinner / coffee · surprise birthday parties · feeding them · handing them keys to their apartment · making space in drawer for their clothes when they stay over · sharing a blanket · couple costumes · tucking a hair strand behind their ear · keeping them from leaving · moving cities to be together · blowing a kiss · breakfast in bed · defending them in a fight ( verbally / physically ) · joint bubble baths · dropping the l-bomb ( "i love you" ) · dedicating a song to them · wearing their clothes · yawning before putting an arm around them while watching a movie · grant them the last bite ( of a meal )

daenerys' gestures...

holding hands ( in public ) · buying flowers · cooking · cuddles · writing a poem / song · holding door open · tying shoe laces · sharing a milkshake with two straws · offering their jacket when it's cold · kissing in the rain · publicly confessing love · long walks at the beach · doing the titanic pose on a boat · kissing the back of their hand · slow dancing · introducing them to their parents · lighting candles · flower petals on bed · love letters · star gazing · brushing / doing their hair · picnics · teaching them to play an instrument while gently guiding their hands · compliments · drawing them · self-made gifts · massages · proposing with a family heirloom ring · lending them their favorite book to read · paying for dinner / coffee · surprise birthday parties · feeding them · handing them keys to their apartment · making space in drawer for their clothes when they stay over · sharing a blanket · couple costumes · tucking a hair strand behind their ear · keeping them from leaving · moving cities to be together · blowing a kiss · breakfast in bed · defending them in a fight ( verbally / physically ) · joint bubble baths · dropping the l-bomb ( "i love you" ) · dedicating a song to them · wearing their clothes · yawning before putting an arm around them while watching a movie · grant them the last bite ( of a meal )

TAGGED BY: @ravarui. ♡ TAGGING: @storyuntrue: your pick, @crimlune: thomas, ellen or orlok, @s4memistake: sam or house, @myhappyxending, @paralyziingfears: your pick, @ironifiicd, @thecavclry: agatha, @musingmemories: your pick, @hcrctic, @ceocrowley, @therelentless, @protectxthem: your pick, @firstsoncain, @qapsiel, @luminescenc1e: your pick and you. ♡

[ephemaera]

rules: without naming them, post a gif from ten of your favorite films and then tag ten people to do the same.

tagged by: @slashaer <333

tagging: @squ1dg4me , @godblooded , @tartt9 , @spiritdreamt , @crimlune , @magnificoregno , and anyone else who would like to! xoxox