#and also is maybe just a bit too on the nose

[hibiscusseaart]

random hc that struck me in my head while i was showering. uh it's kinda weird one i think but i keep thinking about more animalistic Hatakes and can't help myself

btw Itama lives AU i love my dude how can i leave him out

so little context: when i was little my mom did some prayer where she whispered it and then licked me from nose to forehead a few times. listen idk what was that but i remembered it i had some ideas

so what if Hatake momma did the same thing with Senju brothers? So imagine Hashirama and Itama understanding that it was some sort of Hatake ritual and kinda moving on. Weird but all rituals are kinda weird.

But Tobirama, our dear autistic Tobirama thought about it like some sort of forehead kisses before bed and never grew out of it. Maybe he was a little bit too attached to this form of touch bc it soothed his headaches from sensing and poor eyesight when he was little

Itama, who I hc also being autistic, but a little bit more interested in masking, was a little more aware that no one actually licked anyone as a form of love outside of sexy time. But never actually told Tobirama bc he thought he knew. Hashirama also never mentioned it.

Tobirama fucking grew up thinking that licking his loved ones is an okay thing to do and a form of ultimate love or smth. He doesn't do that himself, he usually accepts hugs or kisses or any other form of love from his brothers, but never initiates. And he's kinda hurt that no one of his brothers do this anymore (i think they play licked and bite each other when they were little quite a lot).

Anyway all my thoughts are going to Madatobi so, when they get together, Tobirama will try to lick Madara sometimes in place of kissing, bc sometimes he's so overwhelmed with feelings, that kissing isn't enough. Madara takes us as a joke and sexy play at first and it will hurt Tobirama a bit, but I think he's got used for this kinds of rejection for now.

But then Madara would notice that oh, Tobirama takes these little licks seriously. Tobirama is always weird and stiff about sex if it's happening bc Tobirama started being all weird and licked his face, again.

Madara slowly catches on, bc Tobirama never fucking talks about anything that bothers him, but Madara IS a genius too thank you very much. He learns that for Tobirama it's a big deal and he wants to receive these licks too. And not in a sexy way, like it's not enough for licking neck or other parts of his body, no it's supposed to be on his face, preferably the forehead (even tho Madara thinks it's gross, the cold saliva all over the face ESPECIALLY on forehead is disgusting actually, i remember getting so annoyed that my mom did that). But oh well what can you do with love.

So Madara tries to make Tobirama happy with licking him from time to time (even tho he has to go on his tippy toes to reach his forehead). Maybe even in public. They already have reputation of having a freaky relationships, how much worse can it go?

Eventually Tobirama learns that licking face is not actually normal from Izuna, who was freaked out big time when he saw this display for the first time.

Tobirama was miserable that he was the freak the whole time and was getting upset over nothing, Madara is angry bc Izuna upset Tobirama and Izuna is just fucking traumatised.

ok i'm ending my ramble here. it's kinda weird but i had to get it out of my chest

[desideriumwriter]

Anyone But You | Chapter 14

Summary: You avoid the tension between you and Fred, you end up sobbing again, and make a decision that you're not sure if it was a mistake.

CW: crying, kissing, yelling

WC: 1.8k

A/N: a shortie but it's the moment you all have been waiting for! somewhat

Series Masterlist | F.W Masterlist | Previous| Next | Navi

You really didn’t mean to stay this many days at the burrow. But you surprisingly didn’t miss your bed all that much. And you were having fun.

Angelina had gone home before lunch, Lee was staying for one more day, and Harry was staying for the rest of break as per usual.

You felt bad for him.

You had shared the same loss, but you felt worse for Harry than anyone else. He was the one to see Cedric die. Then he had to go and battle a dark wizard, and bring the corpse back with him.

Remembering that he was younger than you made it worse, dealing with all that at fourteen obviously is going to take awhile to recover from.

It seemed that the both of you tried not to dwell too much on it, not wanting to think about it, and using this time at the Weasleys as a way to distract your thoughts from that event.

Harry didn’t want to remind you of what happened and you didn’t want to remind Harry of what happened. You still asked how one another were doing and responded to each other in small group conversations at the table. But really no more than that.

Anyways, you’re trying not to dwell on it. This a vacation, you should be happy.

You did your best to act normal around Fred, trying to act as if you haven’t cried in his arms twice, and slept in his bed twice, sharing the bed one of those times.

The hardest thing to ignore was that feeling in your stomach any time he was near to you.

You're not sure when it started, nor how long you’ve been ignoring it. Maybe months? That’s quite terrifying, you won’t think about it too much.

The day was simple. You ate breakfast, watched both of the twins along with Lee and Harry play Quidditch, the twins already using the beaters bats you got them. Lee offered to switch places with you, seeing if you’d like to play a round with everyone. You refused, terrified you wouldn’t be able to dodge a ball in time or fall off your broom and end up with a broken arm.

You all went inside eventually, talked, watched TV, ate lunch, talked some more, watched TV some more, watched everyone play Quidditch some more, ate dinner, talked more.

Nothing very exciting happened most of the day, except when Lee was able to hit George right in the nose with a scone from the other side of the table.

Also, you were actually able to make conversation with the twins without getting annoyed every other minute. That was new.

Other than that, nothing super important happened for most of the day.

Once you went upstairs to change, you realized that you underestimated how many days you’d stay when you packed your bag.

You were out of fresh pajama shirts, you weren’t in the mood to wear the same shirt you’ve chosen to sleep in the past two nights.

It wasn’t ideal, but you just decided to keep on the shirt you had on all day and sleep in that, changing into a new pair of pajama pants.

Leaving the room and passing the twins room, you noticed a light on and the door was cracked open, it’s usually shut.

Peaking your head in carefully, you saw Fred standing and hunched over on his desk, focused as he wrote something on a piece of paper. Probably a new idea.

Pushing the door open a bit more, it squeaked and you cringed at the sound. Fred’s head slowly looked to where you were. He smiled.

“Will you be joining me in my bed again tonight?” He teased, a sarcastic suggestive tone in this voice.

“You got lucky last night, don’t push it Weasley.” You stepped fully into the room, crossing your arms. Fred noticed and looked down at your shirt, his eyebrows creasing inwards for a moment.

“Is that the same shirt you’ve worn today?”

“Oh, yeah. I ran out of sleep shirts. This will do for now.” You shrugged, moving a hand to play with the hem of your shirt.

Fred didn’t say anything, he went over to his dresser and opened the top drawer, the wrong drawer. You got a glimpse of his boxers and immediately looked away. He slammed in shut with panic in his eyes, then clearing his throat as he opened the one underneath.

He pulled out an old shirt, it had a faded logo of some band he liked when he was prepubescent.

“Here, you can use this for the night.” He held out the shirt for you, you took it with a hesitant hand.

Looking down at it and rubbing the finger over the fabric, you bit your cheek. Feeling guilty all of sudden, about so much.

“Fred, why are you being so nice to me?” The words tumbled quickly out of your mouth, sounding painful.

“What?”

“I’ve been so horrible to you, all these years I've been so bitter and mean. Yet, you just let me in. You never held an actual grudge against me. I don’t get it.” You looked up at him, laying the folded shirt on the dresser next to you.

“Y/N, I don’t understand what you’re saying.” He stepped closer to you. He was so close. So close.

“Why can't you just be mad at me? Why can't you hate me the way I’ve hated you.” You whined, shoving him slightly, praying you would finally scare him away, make him despise you. 

Fred held your arms once you tried to push him away again, rubbing your thumbs over your wrists, and weakly saying your name.

“I could never hate you.” Fred spoke softly, you let out a breath of frustration and dropped your hands from his light grasp, wishing he would just tell the truth. He already was. 

“I don’t know why. Maybe it’s ‘cause I understood, I am annoying and I am a bit of an arsehole sometimes with my pranks.” He chuckled and you let out a breathy laugh.

“I just don’t know Y/N, I just can’t hate you.”

“Godric, why are you doing this to me Fred?” You groaned, dropping your head to his chest, leaning against him. 

“I don’t know. I can’t help it.” Fred shook his head as he gently placed his hands on the sides of your face, holding it up to his gaze. You clenched your teeth together.

Can't help what? Can’t help what, Fred? You wanted to push so bad, but you couldn’t bring yourself to. Scared to know his response.

His eyes were glazed over, and he took in a shaky breath. You stared at his soft lips, the sides of lips curled down.

He looked so fucking beautiful. You hated him for it.

And you didn't know why you did it. All you knew was that in that moment, while staring into his infuriating eyes and glancing down at his lips that were curled into a frown, you wanted to kiss him. 

Air rushed out of his lungs as you did. It was strange, you expected anger, definitely regret, but all you felt was satisfaction.

Fred took a second before he pushed back into the kiss, his hands still cupping your face. Yours ran through his hair.

That yearning, the strange feeling of waiting you both held in your bodies for so long finally felt relieved as your lips opened and closed around each other.

You’d slept in his bed last night, now you were practically making out with him. What the hell were you doing?

Fred was the first to pull away, his chest heaving and swollen lips. Fred didn’t look regret-filled either but he also didn’t look ecstatic or happy. 

He looked…unsure, which was exactly how you felt. 

His eyes darted all along your face, taking in your features, analyzing them, trying to figure out what your puzzling expression was. 

Though you knew what you wanted to do, you wanted to kiss him again. You leaned in then stopped yourself, pushing yourself completely away from him.

“Oh no. No, no, no.” You mumbled repeatedly to yourself, stress taking over your face as you pressed the balls of your palms against your eyes. “What am I doing?”

Fred whispered your name, disappointed at your sudden denial. You stared at him with puffy eyes, the lamp showed the shine of a tear that fell down his face. The guilt was eating at you now.

“Fred…we can’t. I can’t….I just. Fuck.” You rubbed your hands down your face, nearly running out the room and down the steps. Fred followed suit but stopped at the doorway of his room. Watching you dart away once again, you didn’t stop moving until you were outside.

Fred stepped back and rubbed a hand against his cheek, then using two fingers to wipe his watering eyes.

You sat on the wooden bench outside, your back against the table connected to it. Hunched over with your head in your hands.

With no idea of what you were doing, what you just did, and why you ran out on Fred, you moved your hands from your head to your face.

You were a complete idiot. A complete and utter asshole for what you were doing. You’ve begun to mess with Fred’s head as much as he’s been messing with yours.

You wouldn’t blame him if he held a forever grudge against you for this, you’d understand if he began to resent you.

The door leading into the kitchen creaked open. You brought your head up slowly, even though you really didn’t want to. Knowing who it would be.

“Hey.” Fred had his hands tucked into his pockets, a painfully awkward look on his face. He couldn’t meet your eyes. “You okay?”

“I don’t think I deserve to be asked that.” You let out a breathy laugh. Fred puffed out his bottom lip and shrugged. Moving to sit down next to you on the bench.

The two of you sat in silence, you sat up fully, resting your hand in your lap and fiddling your fingers.

“I didn’t mean to run away like that. I just wasn’t sure what to do.”

“I get it, there was a lot happening in one moment.” Fred lied, he honestly didn’t get it. He wondered why you couldn’t just come to your senses with your feelings.

“It was rude of me though. I’m just not sure about anything really.” You sighed.

Fred rested his hand over yours in a sympathetic way.

“How about we just stay here, as friends? It’d be really nice to call you my friend after all these years.” He chuckled. “I’m just glad we’re not at each other's throats anymore.”

“Yeah. Yeah we can be friends.” You nodded slightly, voice hoarse when the words came out.

“Okay.” A weak grin took over his face.

“Okay.”

It’s hard to stay as friends when you’ve already kissed him.

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[pointedextr]

it’s that time of year (when the world falls in love)

poly!wolfstar x reader inspired by the christmas waltz by laufey (also thrown together, kinda messy, but it's cutie)

“Happy Christmas!”

Lily’s hair is dotted with fresh snowflakes, Harry’s dark little head peeking out from her arms in the soft glow of the twinkling coloured lights Sirius had insisted on hanging outside. You can see James loaded with presents a few steps behind his wife, face barely visible behind the brightly wrapped packages. You bring Lily into a warm hug, shuffling her inside while keeping in mind the toddler who laughs at the affection, patting your cheeks with small, chilly hands. 

“Happy Christmas, Jamie.” You call as Lily and Harry toddle further into the warmth, hands outstretched to help with his mountain of gifts but he side-steps you with ease, smacking a kiss to the top of your head.

“Oi, Padfoot!” He yells into the open doorway, pausing to adjust his grip. “Come help me!”

“Happy Christmas to you, too, Prongs, love you as well, Prongs, happy to see you, Prongs.” Sirius calls back, sarcasm dripping from every word, but you still watch him round the corner of the living room and pluck a sizable amount of presents from his friend’s arms, kissing your nose before following his best friend inside. You trail after them, securing the door shut, shiny Mary Janes making a soft noise against the wood of your entryway as you duck beneath a low hanging string of popcorn. 

Lily is busying herself with pouring a drink into a delicate glass, Marlene and Dorcas engaging her in bustling conversation as soon as they spot her. Alice, Frank, and little Neville are corralled around your plush loveseat, Neville waving around a cherry red toy car with blinking lights and moving windshield wipers, and next to them, Mary and Peter are giggling with heads bent together. Emmeline twirls a lock of dark hair around her finger, currently flicking through the snack tray and plucking every strawberry out of the fruit you’d painstakingly prepared earlier that day. 

James and Sirius had taken it upon themselves to stack the new additions to the present stash in an elaborate tower that looks like it’d fall at the slightest breath.

“Be careful, Pads.” Remus calls across the room from where you’d left him to answer the doorbell, one of the slim glasses you’d set out for drinks balanced on his knee as long, deft fingers trace the lip of the thing. You sidle up next to him, perching yourself on the armrest of the chair, and his free hand comes up to rest on your thigh.

“I’m walking on eggshells, Moony, I swear!” As he says this, however, a particularly heavy gift bag thumps onto the ground at his feet. 

“Alright, you two, I think we can leave the presents as they are.” You placate, a smile playing at your lips. “It looks great.” Sirius smiles a dazzlingly boyish grin at your praise, and you feel a flush heat the tips of your ears at the attention.

“You went all out, huh?” Lily asks, flicking at the garland you’d secured to the tops of your kitchen cabinets.

“I go all out every year!” You crow. “You just never knew because I never had a big enough place to deck out, and we always went to yours, or Frank and Alice’s to celebrate.”

“Thank Godric you didn’t try to do all this when we were in school. If I’d woken up to tinsel in my knickers, you’d have been hexed halfway to Spain.” Marlene quips, springing a laugh from the group. 

Everyone turns conversation back inward, and you melt just that little bit more into Remus, bending down to press your lips to the side of his head.

“What was that for?” It’s teasingly gentle, his thumb rubbing comfortingly over your tights, and your chest feels warm. 

“Just because. I’m feeling the giving spirit.” You smile, shifting closer so your hip knocks into his shoulder. “Maybe I’ll snog Sirius under the mistletoe. He put it under every doorway.” 

“I’m an opportunist.” The man in question swipes Remus’ drink from his hands after abandoning James across the room, a devilish smile hidden behind the glass as he drains the rest of the contents of it.

“Oh, so if you were caught in the doorway with, say, Dorcas?” Remus teases, snatching his empty cup back and vanishing it into the sink with a wave of his hand.

Sirius thumps his chest, an attempt of a valiant hero persona shrouding his features playfully, and he salutes to Dorcas, who’d narrowed her eyes in your direction as soon as she heard her name. 

“If Father Christmas demands it, it must be so.”

“I doubt Father Christmas is jonesing for you to pash a lesbian, but I’m not exactly Mrs. Claus, so what do I know?” You make to slip from under Remus’ hand to get him a new glass, but he tightens his hold just the smallest bit before you can get anywhere, tilting his face up just so. You know he’s handsome; you try to tell him this any chance you get, tracing the line of his nose, the dip of his mouth, the apples of his cheeks, but you’re struck by it in the fuzzy lights of your home, the candle-like warmth of your Christmas tree casting his face in such a way that your breath hitches. Before he even speaks, you’re darting forward to kiss him, just a small brush of your lips across his so your lipstick doesn’t smudge.

“Still in the giving spirit?” 

You hum, offering your abandoned seat to Sirius, who slides easily against Remus, wrapping their hands together tightly, and slinking into the kitchen. Harry’s attached to James at the hip, munching quite happily on a cracker he’d been given, and making grabby hands at the cube of cheese James has halfway to his mouth. 

“Dada, can I have some?” He’s quite good at speaking, more eloquent than Ron Weasley, who has a touch of a lisp and usually strings together just the important words. 

“Let’s split it, huh, Haz?” The orange cube is small, but James succeeds at halving it, and offers the bigger piece to his son. 

“Excited to open presents, Haz?” You ask, flicking your wand to the top shelf where Sirius thinks it's funny to store things so he can laugh as you jump to retrieve them. A tube of chocolate wands floats down to the counter, and you open the container to snap one in thirds and hand two pieces to James so he can give it to Harry when he sees fit and popping the final third into your mouth. 

The boy lights up like he’d been plugged in, emerald eyes widening as if he’d forgotten what today was.

“We got my presents from Santa at home, and I got a new broomstick! It’s p’olly more bigger than Uncle Padfoot’s, it’s almost as tall as Dad! Mummy says I can’t use it until I’m bigger, but I think I’m big enough, you think I’m big enough, right, Auntie?” He’s rambling around the cheese, and you laugh, nodding along to his story as he tells you all the things Santa brought him as you pour a heavy hand into a glass for Sirius and mix a sweeter concoction for Remus, along with chocolate wands for the both of them. Harry clutches your skirt as you pad back into the living room, still rambling on about his presents. “But mummy said Santa forgot to give me something called pay-tense. I don’t know what that is, but it sounds so boring, I’m glad he forgot it.” 

“That does sound quite boring, Haz.” Across the room, Remus and Sirius have relocated to the couch closest to the tree, and Sirius is impatiently palming a small present, shaking it against his ear like he could hear something through the box.  With a quirk of your lips, you lean down to whisper to Harry: “I think Santa forgot to bring your Uncle some this year, too, but I also think Santa has been forgetting to give it to him since he was a baby.” 

You nudge him toward Lily and James, who have a pile of presents sitting in front of them for Harry; you spot your present wrapped in Gryffindor red and gold with an expert bow you’d spent at least thirty minutes on, a mini handmade plush set of the Quidditch balls enchanted to actually work and a pendant that said ‘Future Captain!’ There’s a space on the couch that you go to slide into, but Sirius catches your waist, settling you comfortably across his legs, chin perched on your shoulder.

“You’ve been giving Moony love all night.” He whines, a bit histrionically, and you smack a kiss to his cheek in response. A lip print stands out starkly against his skin, deep red on his pale cheeks, and he makes no move to wipe anything away. 

“So whiney, Sirius.” Remus’ lips twist into a half smirk, taking his drink and chocolate wand from your hands. 

“You love it.” Sirius accepts the kiss Remus gives him as apology.

Harry’s ripping through his presents with Neville close behind, a pile of wrapping paper and crepe slowly forming around the boys that Frank and James can’t help but vanish intermittently. Neville laughs as a large butterfly flutters around his head, a present from Emmeline, its textile wings softly batting his hair as it floats. From Sirius, Harry pulls out play quidditch robes, and a note telling him to open your present next. Remus gave him and Neville picture books he’d charmed to help them learn how to read (though Harry’s had a special spell on it that insulted James if he picked up the book, so when he bent to gather Harry’s things together, it called him a ‘big piece of stag dung’ which Lily found quite funny.)

Harry delighted in your present, the soft bludgers bouncing off his head as he smiled widely at you. The kids finished with their lot, sizable piles of toys, books, and clothes stacked beside them. 

“Oh, Remus, it’s perfect!” Lily held a muggle video camera, pressing at buttons and pointing the lens at her son, then at the smiling man who’d gifted it to her. 

“Oi, what about my gift, Lilyflower?” James whined, though it was all in good fun. She cuffed the back of his neck with a slightly irritated blush at whatever she found in the wrapping, sending him reeling forwards. Covering her son’s eyes, she held up gold lingerie with little white bows holding it all together, and everyone burst out in awkward laughter.

James had given Sirius a heaping of personally designed gag gifts, a few of which were muggle made, a limp whoopee cushion thrown across the room to smack Peter in the face on accident. Underneath the mountain of fake vomit, dungbombs, and a suspicious looking potion with a label that said 'Gut-Be-Gone’, there was a small envelope with a silver wax seal. 

“You’re joking, Prongs!” Inside the envelope, Sirius produced three tickets to AC/DC’s tour, picking back up in the new year. He clapped James on the back firmly, a fond smile and a blush to the high points of his cheeks, flashing a huge smile at Remus and you.

You’re struck with how beautiful he is, similar to the feeling you’d had with Remus. Sirius settles right back in, pulling you firmly onto his lap and you trace the planes of his face with your gaze, the pretty pink of his cheeks with a bit of drink in him, the foggy paleness that makes up his eyes; the dichotomy of him is breathtaking, the dark ink that peeks over the collar of his shirt and circles his long fingers, the silver glint of piercings that almost match the hue of his iris. You find yourself pressing light kisses to the side of his nose, the dip of his upper lip, the hinge of his jaw, the beauty mark next to his right eye, which he lets you do without comment or question.

You were so wrapped up, forgive the pun, in watching your loved ones and the joy the day was bringing to them, you hardly remembered your own pile until everyone was finished, the muffled sound of Peter’s gift from James (a card that sang the most annoying Christmas carols Lily could think of that had held a ticket to a special screening of the Star Wars trilogy, Peter’s favourite movie) ringing in the air. 

“Dove, it’s your turn.” Remus nudges your hand towards the presents, guiding you to a nicely wrapped present that reads Alice and Mary in Alice’s precise scrawl.

You pick at the tape with the blunt of your nail, peeling it delicately until it comes undone in your hands. Inside is something you’d never think Alice or Mary would give you as a gift; delicate lace fabric unfurls in your hand. It’s a long length, and if the texture didn’t tell you it’s ancient, the fading of the white would have done it in. Nevertheless, it’s gorgeous, intricate and detailed and you can’t help but brush your fingers over it with the utmost care. Your brows furrow as you look at them, but they smile a knowing smile, and you thank them wholeheartedly.

“Next gift.” Sirius is speaking very softly, and as he passes the present, he presses a kiss to your cheek with similar gentleness.

It’s a package from Marlene, and you look up to see her smiling, though she’s biting at her nail beds nervously.

“I’m sure I’ll love it, Marlene.” 

And you do, though you have similar sentiments to Marlene’s gift you'd had to the previous present. It’s lovely, a pair of stunning earrings that float in an invisible wind, petal-like and iridescent, with misshapen pearls dangling from the posts . Holding them to the light, you can see little spirally veins running through the thin membrane, and you cast an incredulous look at your friend, the black polish on her nail very obviously chipping from the bite of her teeth. 

“They’re spidersilk mimicry of fairy wings, we saw a pair similar in Hogsmeade that one time during our sixth year. I thought, hey, what the hell, why not.” 

“Marlene, they’re gorgeous, absolutely. Thank you so much.”

Remus passes you the fourth present, an odd look in his brown eyes, almost anticipatory though you know it has little to do with the present, because the label doesn’t read Remus, it reads Lily.

Lily is your absolute best friend in the world, and you know she echoes the sentiment by the misty look in her eyes as you pull her present out, a small, square, and featherlight box.

“Lillian Jane Evans-Potter, what in the fresh hell?”

It’s a picture of her and James on their wedding day, moving and smiling and only looking at each other. Sirius is behind them, smiling a devilish smile at the camera, and he winks at you from the photograph. You turn the picture over in the box, and something jingles out onto your lap. It’s a dragonfly brooch, it’s Lily’s mother’s dragonfly brooch, and Lily’s since added a locket charm that’s empty and pings lightly against the brooch. You have no time to question her present before you’re being proffered a fourth present, oddly, your final present aside from a huge box with no label.

It’s from James and Peter, the former flashes a wide, toothy smile, and the latter looks at you very expectantly, albeit with warmth. 

You very carefully open the final package, expecting to be shot in the face with a horrid smell or turned into a giant blueberry, but there’s a simple handkerchief folded over four times. It’s blank, plain white, and it’s the only thing in the package, and you look at it very expectantly, as if it’ll blow up.

“C’mon, daredevil, pick it up!” James crows, and you gingerly prod it with a finger, flipping it over.

“Not like that,” Peter says, cringing. “You have to pick it up fully, or it won’t work.”

You shoot Remus and Sirius questioning looks, and they look almost nervous at your reaction, but you pick the handkerchief up anyhow and almost drop it as it bleeds from your touch; the stark white slowly turns a beautiful shimmery shade of blue, revealing white words seemingly etched into the corner: Happy Christmas! Say yes! - James and Peter

These presents are lovely, yet, you’re so puzzled. None of them make much sense to you, maybe Marlene’s can be explained away, but they’re extravagant earrings, and the thought makes you sweat because all you’d gotten her was a Stevie Nicks record and a black leather choker from a market you and Sirius had gone to. Lily offering her dead mother’s brooch? The lacey fabric from Alice and Mary? And the very, very odd blue handkerchief that turned white again as soon as you set it down. A furrow developed between your brows, and Remus stretched a hand out to soothe it down, kissing the side of your mouth before handing you the giant present you had left.

It was huge. It took up almost all of your upper body, coming to a stop just at your nose. Despite the side, the package was light, and when you jokingly shook it, nothing happened.

“Open it, love.” Sirius prompted.

You notched the tape with your finger, and automatically, the box disappeared, a floating, tiny jewellery box taking its place. Small little stars, like the lights on your Christmas tree, floated along with it, circling it, then dancing away, then back again, like nothing could keep still in the anticipation. Your fingers warmed when they made contact with the small thing, and the stars rushed into your being, floating warmly and playfully through your hair, along your shoulders and down your nose. For lack of better words, it was breathtakingly beautiful. 

It seemed like the whole room was holding its breath, Alice was clenching her chair with white knuckles, Lily and James leaned so close it looked like they were almost out of their seats. Marlene bit the sides of her nails raw, and Dorcas’s nose was wrinkled. Mary, Peter, Frank, and Emmeline all tensed like windup toys. Harry and Neville didn’t seem to care, both sharing sugar quills among themselves.

You opened the box, and gasped.

A ring sat among plus red velvet, the stone twinkling and gleaming as your eyes wet. 

“Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue.” Your words were tight with the closing of your throat, like something was tugging your oesophagus into a pinch. “Oh, my.” It was all you could say.

Sirius’ fingers came into your vision, plucking the ring from its bed of elegance and passing his thumb over the stone, his entire body tense against yours like a violin string pulled taught.

“I don’t want to profess all the things I want to say in front of this lot,” His voice is a whisper, rough and low and so very filled with emotion. “But I love you. We love you. We wanted you to be first.”

You’d discussed marriage, one night, all lying together and limbs tangled so tightly you couldn’t tell where you ended and someone else began. You remember saying you wanted to get on a knee and give someone a ring, that you didn’t want to be the only one with a symbol of love, so you all agreed to plan engagements when the time came. You promised, with great vigour through the sleepy haze you were under, to propose like nobody's business. You were so sure that Remus chuckling into your hair was an agreement, not an appeasement because they were already planning something so lovely, something that made your insides warm, something that made you want to kick everyone out so you could do some very lovely things to your very lovely lovers.

“Oh, give me the ring before I punch you.”

You kiss him so violently when it slides home on your left hand, your teeth knock together and he falls into the couch with a noise that sends the room hooting with laughter. You turn to Remus, who’s looking at your hand like it’s been touched by Midas, and launch yourself towards him with a sickening speed, lips and teeth and tongue all at play as you clutch his face in your hands, running a thumb over a scar that pulls taught across his cheek as he kisses you back. 

“I’m going to propose the hell out of you, just you wait.” 

“Looking forward to it.”

[italktoomuchxd]

More Simon with dolls because you guys loved it

Check this!-(you may also want to check this hc)

He carefully tucked away the special doll you crafted for him in his room at the base, ensuring its safety from prying eyes and potential harm. He didn't want to lose it again. It meant so much to him, and he wanted to protect it as a cherished symbol of your bond. After all, you had poured your heart into making that doll, and he recognized its significance. To express his gratitude, he took you out for a lovely dinner, which felt like a beautiful celebration of his appreciation for you and the growing connection you shared. That doll wasn’t just a gift; it marked a significant milestone in the evolution of your relationship, something tangible to represent the memories you were building together.

As your birthday came, he found himself in a flurry of anxiety, fretting over what to get you. His mind raced with possibilities. Should he opt for a piece of jewelry? But that felt a bit too forward at this stage of your relationship. Maybe a book? He shook his head, chuckling to himself. Seriously, Simon? A book? You can't be more unoriginal than that. How could he be so mundane when he wanted to show you just how much you meant to him? The pressure was on, and he knew he needed to step up his game to make this birthday special for you.

What are you gonna buy, Simon? Socks?

He's gonna crochet.

He's gonna make you your doll.

He had never attempted anything like that before; sure, he had tackled challenging projects like knitted Christmas sweaters and quirky socks, but amigurumi? That was a whole different universe altogether. The intricate details and delicate shapes required for those tiny, plush creations felt completely outside his comfort zone.

The break room was usually filled with a relaxed atmosphere, where everyone was accustomed to finding their lieutenant leisurely crocheting in the corner, yarn neatly arranged by color. But today was different. He sat hunched over the small table, pushing his glasses down to the tip of his nose, his brows furrowed in concentration. The soft hum of his headphones barely masked the muffled sounds of the chaotic office outside. His eyes were locked onto the bright screen of his tablet, where a YouTube tutorial played on repeat. His expression was intense, almost fierce, as he glared at the video, determination etched on his face as he tried to grasp the technique.

But he managed a week's worth of sweat, blood, and tears, and there it is! A little y/n! Well, it doesn't really look like you, but at least he tried; he even added the sweater he knitted for you on that little doll.

He carefully packed a small box filled with your favorite sweets, that doll he made knowing how much you were going to enjoy it Alongside the treats, he included a heartfelt love note expressing his feelings for you, filled with sweet words that would surely make you smile. Additionally, he added his old shirt—a shirt that you had often worn during his stays at your house, as it always made you feel warm and comforted. It wasn’t one he used much anymore, but he wanted you to have it as a reminder of those special moments you shared together.

[theoneandonlysemla]

WIP Wednesday

Tagged by: @skyrim-forever @hircines-hunter @dirty-bosmer

Tagging: @did3lphis @tiredela @ladytanithia @thequeenofthewinter @elavoria

Let's go girls! Okay, maybe not so much. I'm damn tired, my brain is goo due to migraines on Sunday, Monday and today so... Hate that for me. I will write some Nevri x Morotar Hurt/Comfort but at the moment that is still all in my head. Instead, I'm going with a snipped from next weekend's new DwD II chapter! Ancano is, as always, an ass (ugh, I love him). Also under the cut because of spoilers.

A knock sounded. Ghash narrowed his eyes and stared unblinking at the door. Nevri sat rooted to her chair. Who wanted anything from her in the evening? Granted, it wasn't too late, so the visit wasn't rude, but it was certainly unusual. Maybe it's Colette, she thought and got up from her chair. Another knock followed. Nevri turned the key in the lock, pressed the handle and took a step backwards and stumbled back another. The Thalmor stood in front of her door, his face expressionless and his hands clasped behind his back. He looked different as he had taken off his long, pitch-black coat with the gold trim. Underneath was a dark purple tunic, as Nevri now realised. He had rolled up his sleeves, exposing sinewy forearms.

“Ah, you’re still awake. May I come in?” he asked, his tone as monotone as his countenance.

“What do you want?” Nevri immediately blurted out. Anxiety pressed on her stomach and made it queasy.  

“I just wanted to enquire about you.” The corners of his mouth lifted into something resembling a smile. But it didn't inspire confidence in Nevri. “Since I was involved in your rescue, it is my duty to look after you.”

“So, you've been looking after me. I'm standing upright. Is that it?” she said. Had he really been there? She did not remember him in the slightest. Only how she had been spewing water from her lungs and that the pale Altmer had been far too close to her.    

“Is that it?” he mimicked and made a step towards her, entering the room. “A little more gratitude might be in order.”

“How I remember it, you weren’t the one to pull me out of the ocean. Nor carry me to Colette,” she spat, but made another step back, the back of her knee hit her bedframe. Ghash sat next to her, his tail whipping.

Ancano closed the door behind him, then inspected her chamber with a look of depreciation. Everything in here seemed to displease him, but so did the whole college. In the one week that Nevri had been here, she had heard his lamenting often enough.         He stopped by her desk, his slender, golden fingers gliding over the two letters, keen eyes scanning them. A barely visible crease formed between his eyebrows as he read the second letter. Nevri bit on the inside of her cheek and thanked herself, that she had only written vague suggestions of the matters. He looked up, fixed his citrine gaze on her, staring her into the ground. Rarely had she encountered such a penetrating glare; only one other pair of eyes had had such a devastating effect on her. But that had been azure.

“To answer your question, yes, I have not been the one to recue you from the sea. My fellow agent had that honour, even though I deemed it hopeless.” His tone had become as sharp as his features, cutting like the keen edge of a blade. “A fall from such height, it's almost a miracle that you're standing in front of me.”

“It was pure luck,” Nevri answered quickly, maybe a little too quickly to not to raise suspicion. “And fast help. I would have drowned without it.”

Ancano took a few more steps towards her, stood right in front of her. He was not much taller than her, but he knew how to make himself look towering. A hint of lemon reached her nose, accompanied with pine needles. Under other circumstances, she would have described it as pleasant, but right now Nevri felt like she was shrinking under his scrutinizing gaze.

“I’ve seen people fall in similar conditions.” He paused, observing every movement in her face. “I have thrown people from comparable heights. It is a death sentence. No matter if there is stone, sand or water beneath them. The impact should have killed you, Dunmer.”

[red-doll-face]

Snow Angel

Chapter 1: elation

low to medium honor Arthur Morgan x Female Reader

Arthur has been living by himself, laying low (for real this time) somewhere in the Pacific Northwest. After the whole Pinkerton and Micah debacle, he has been hiding away, waiting for it all to blow over, occasionally getting letters from the people who still know that he's alive. He's been alone awhile and at first, he thought he could handle a little loneliness. He has been wrong before. Lucky for him, you look like the perfect thing to break up the monotony.

Warnings: dubious consent, low honor Arthur, smut, naive reader

WC: 2481

Hi, I’m unwell about him and I needed to post this bc I need people to talk to about it and I probably also need help lmao also may be a bit ooc. New to posting here 😳😖😵‍💫

Tags: innocence kink, size kink, vaginal and oral sex, no TB thank god. Arthur is sweet still but has mean tendencies obviously

Arthur’s new visitor has him hot under the collar.

The snow up here is about to overtake Lucky, the loyal Clydesdale you had known since you were a girl. His legs amble forward, winds whipping his mane and tail about. Hunkering over him; gripping his reins for dear life, you try to urge him further. Your throat is tight with nerves and of course the impending reality that Lucky has been slowing down. That the weather has only been getting worse since you started riding out. The last thing isn’t worth mentioning.

As if he could hear you over the blizzard winds, you clutch tight to his reins.

“Please Lucky, you can do it, boy. You can’t leave me here,”

His hooves trudge through the snow, his big legs managing to stay above the snow fall. He falters a bit here and there, more often as you go on. Grunting and shaking at his tack. You pat along his strong neck. The cold turns the moisture in the air to ice, the heat in his breath disappearing.

“I’m sorry, Lucky…” Shuffling onward, leading him on. Frost gathers over your coat and you would think the landscape beautiful if not for the lethality of it all. You’re not sure if people are meant to survive in places like this. With nose numb and fingers creaky in your thick gloves, you know you have to stop. Scanning the horizon for anything resembling a shelter, imagining yourself curled up in Lucky’s side, you can see the soft glow from a cabin a ways down the road. The only vestige of humanity you had seen for miles on what feels like the edge of the world. Windows glow with the tell tale orange of a warm fireplace. Your foot nudges into Lucky’s side for your last push, your last chance.

“Go!” you slap the reins on his neck, working him up to a trot. You approach and see what looks to be some sort of barn. It’s a small stable, a nice place to put a horse or two, maybe a dairy cow. Another horse lazily sleeps, fresh hay for his bedding. At your entrance, he perks up but stares oddly, easing back. Lucky knickers and snorts, just happy to be inside, you think.

“I’ll be back, hopefully not too soon…” You leave him there while he starts mooching the hay laid out for his new roommate. You pat his flank and watch the ice melt from his lashes.

Braced for the cold, arms crossed over your chest, you pull your legs forward through the snow outside. It’s a fight to get through the piles of snow, clouding around your lower thighs. Finally, you're on the wooden steps of the porch, which creak a bit underneath your feet. Panting, you meekly pat on the door.

“Please, I need help,” you shout, trying to speak over the blizzard. “Is anyone there?” You can hear the crackling fire, feeling like it’s warming you already. Heavy steps come to the door.

“Who’s out there?” A gruff masculine voice answers your call. It grates over your nerves, though if you weren’t alone you might have found it to be soothing. With any luck, he’s the father of a nice family whose heart would be softened by a lone young woman near frozen to death on his front door.

“Please, sir. I promise it’s just me,” your pleading seems to have done the trick and the man opens the door. Finally hitting you with a heat you had almost forgotten. He moves to the side after sizing you up. Hesitating even for a second causes him to dip his head to direct you inside. Forcing your stiff legs to lift. He takes a moment to analyze the gap you left behind. Carefully, he shuts the door and pulls the curtain closed. Maybe he had been robbed before? Lonely homesteads were easy and preferable targets for bandits. Typically neighbors were miles away, if you had any neighbors to speak of or to.

You get a better look at him, tall and strong, chest the size of a barrel. The sleeves of his plain white shirt are rolled up and the top two buttons are undone. Leather suspenders keep his deep brown trousers up. He stands as if unsure what to do with his body besides intimidate you with it, showing not an ounce of uncertainty on his face.

There is no one else here and if there is, they’re in the other rooms of his quiet and moderate home. The house smells of coffee, a disarming smell. Salt pork and boiled potatoes too. Certainly provisions that could last through this harsh winter.

“What the hell were you doin’ out there?” His tone is accusatory and judgemental. He must think you an idiot to be traveling in this weather and maybe he wasn’t all wrong. Instead of talking, your jaw clicks your teeth together. The hard look he gives you melts away and he helps you out of your coat. He's almost surprised to see you, eyes stuck on every piece of you revealed to him. Snowflakes and icy debris are shed from you and you sigh. You try your best to get your natural reactions to stop but they insist on ceasing on their own. The man huffs, stepping towards the percolator on the stove. You watch on, feeling strange that he hasn’t really invited you to sit or do much of anything else.

“You mute, girl? Asked you a question.” he takes a seat by the fire in a big chair seemingly made just for him. He sets down the coffee before taking a match and striking it, lighting the end of a cigarette he retrieved from the table. The coffee steams gently and you take it; seeing as you're very sure he had made it for you. Jerkily, you move to sit as he sets his eyes on you. The couch is soft and warm, homely with a pretty blanket, thick and colorful patterns. While his gaze seems easy and relaxed, he watches you like a hawk.

“No, I… was getting something for my granny. She’s not feeling too good. Ma sent me to get something for her. The doctor, I suppose. Didn’t make it too far,”

He exhales. The smallest noise of amusement.

“I can imagine,” You take a sip of the coffee. Warm and sweet smelling. “What kinda mother sends a pretty thing like you on a fool's errand? You really thought you was gonna bring your ol’ granny a doctor in this?” You stare, feeling a bit like a child being scolded by this man.

“Oh well, I-”

“Your granny probably already kicked the bucket while you were out here, damn near gettin’ yourself killed. If it weren’t for me, well…” scratching at the darker scruff that grows on his face. His hair is that same light brown, almost blond. He sucks the smoke out of the slim roll of paper. It's bitter and acrid, a contrast to the warm smoky fireplace. Your brows furrow. Deciding to change the subject before you say something out of turn, you take another sip out of the enameled cup he had given you. The smoke he inhaled releases in a cloud around his features, obscuring the knowing smile he wears.

“I’m sorry mister, but I don't think you gave me your name…” He ashes his cigarette, tossing his legs up on the table in the center of the room. The weight of him and his leather boots don’t rattle the table, he’s careful with himself.

“Arthur. You married?” His gaze is as hot and red as the cherry burning on the end of his cigarette. You almost start to feel uncomfortable. If there weren't a blizzard outside, you might consider walking out. He hadn’t even given you a chance to say your name. Your nervous look only seems to enthrall him more. You only now notice he’s looking at your hands but thick gloves still encase your fingers.

“No, I'm afraid not,” You contemplate telling him a lie but think about when you might have to remove your gloves. You’d rather not get caught in a fib. Though perhaps his rather brusque flirting might have come to an end should you have warned him of a man who would be looking after you. Being out here by yourself seems to have him convinced that no one truly was looking after you anyway.

“Young lady like you, unwed and caring for your Ma, Pa, all by yourself? Now that’s just sad, is what it is,” The butt of his cigarette meets its end in the ashtray on the table. Your face tweaks into a small nervy smile, nodding. “You are… a sight, for an old ugly bastard like me is all,” Your fingers start to twiddle, feeling your face warm, maybe because of the flames licking at the logs on the hearth. He’s certainly not the ugliest man you’ve ever seen nor the oldest, you frown at such an oddly self deprecating comment. You’re surprised he doesn’t already have a wife and several children running around, reading stories by the fireplace that you sit in front of. You revert back to old tactics.

“I left my horse in the stable out front, I hope you don’t mind too much,”

“Ain’t no trouble,” His hands seem to itch to be doing something, he also seems to twiddle his fingers. One hand propped over the arm of his chair.

“Why don’t I get you somethin’ dry to wear? Should be turnin’ in soon. Gettin’ late.” He stands, hands on his knees and then he’s going into the next room. It gives you a chance to evaluate the room you're in. The mantle has all sorts of strange little knick knacks, the walls, plenty of… distinctive hunting trophies and supplies. Several gleaming guns in different finishes are displayed proudly. Although pretty, they don’t seem unused. If anything, well loved and worn. You’re starting to feel every bit the lamb in the wolf’s den this man is already treating you as.

He comes out of the room, holding a pair of cotton long johns in a cream color. You’re not sure why he thinks you need them but he has been nothing but hospitable if not a bit too strong on his pleasantries and very blunt. It can be lonely out here in the country, so you offer a small smile. He stares at you, even as you awkwardly side step him and go to his bedroom. You close the door and sigh, nice to just have a moment to yourself. Away from the strange man and the cold. The warm smell of fabric and the natural musk of the wood calm you, along with the faint smell of something distinctive to him. You claw and peel at the layers of your clothing, riding gear and boots. You notice how wet your clothes are from the melting ice. Perhaps he knew better than you did.

You slip into the warm cotton of what must be his long johns. They’re nice and feel almost new. Far too big for you. That man, Arthur, did seem to be quite big. Here in the quiet room, you can remember the wind, the cut of the cold air against your cheeks, hear the wind rattle the glass. You're glad to be out of all of that.

It’s a rather modest room, a bed, an armoire, a nightstand, a cabinet. Cigarettes and a few cigars, several empty bottles of bourbon. Some old faded photographs but you're not so brave as to pick them up. The room is severely lacking in the touch of a woman department, bed pushed up against the wall. The smallest mirror adorns the wall, dusty and plain. You turn to the door and see him, standing there.

You startle and put your hand to your chest.

“You scared me Mister…” no last name to utter has you confused, he had never given you one. Your smile isn’t forced but it fades a little when you see him looking at you.

“Morgan, Arthur Morgan,” he’s really giving several once overs that feel like thrice overs, drinking you in like those bottles of bourbon. Your face feels hot again. He stares at the junction between your legs, up to your chest and then finally your face. You don’t think you've ever seen a man look at you like that; not that you spend very much time around men. The type of men at the saloons in town were no good for you, or at least that’s what Ma would say.

“Put somethin’ on the stove for ya, man can’t leave no woman hungry…” he puffs up in pride a bit, you tilt your head. Hopefully he hadn’t been watching you snoop around, or even worse, changing. You nod, a small gesture.

“Thank you, Mr. Morgan. I really appreciate your kindness,” he makes space for you to exit down the small hallway. You try not to brush against him but he’s so big, fills up the sparse room between you and the wall. He drops his arm on the door frame, making you pass underneath him. Looking up at him, you can make out the color of his eyes, a pretty summer blue. His shirt and suspenders smell clean and wintry. He makes you feel minuscule, a mouse and cougar. His features; squared and rugged from weathering the elements, are set in a stony expression but there’s excitement in his eyes.

“Been a long time since somebody called me a kind man, usually it was the opposite,” he says. His hands twitch again, the one in the door is a tight fist. You know that you can’t leave. And you wouldn’t beat him should he chase, you doubt you’d even make it to Lucky. Especially now that he insisted you put on his underclothes. The temptation to be in dryer clothes has trapped you here. You flinch as his hand descends to rest on your neck and collar, rubbing. His body moves forward, taking your silence as acceptance.

“Please, I-“

“I think you need a man to take care of you, honey, need a man to keep you inside- wouldn’t let you go out alone like this if you was my woman,” his hand squeezing at your shoulder, you don’t dare to move. Broad chested, he seems to block out all of the light from the meager lamps and the fireplace.

“Lemme show you how a man looks after a girl like you,” He eases off you and guides you down the hall, your heart thumping out of your chest. Certainly not because of the romance but the claustrophobic feeling of being alone with a man such as him, big and very strong in his advances. Thankfully, not too strong. Yet, a voice in your head warns.

If you made it, thanks for reading and pls send feedback 💝😭 I have split the chapter into 2 parts because it was way too long. I will be posting a "chapter 2" but chapter 3 will be chapter 2 for people who read the long version. I was just too excited to post it and didn't think about this LMAO

[cryptid-killjoy]

"That would be a yes."

Though he wasn't admitting how challenging this conversation had been for him right then. He just kept smiling.

While he stepped out though and was clearing the truck he was also clearing his mind of that impromtu conversation he hadn't quite been ready for himself. It felt seriously good that it happened after such a solemn evening and burdensome trip. It felt like a pick-me-up to perk him back into shape before heading out again.

When Elsa finally came out she was he looked up as he pushed down the last bit of trash into an outside bin.

"Thanks. It might still smell like left over fries in here though." He laughed. Oops on not getting those out sooner. He reached for his glove box and opened up a new tree shaped air freshener and opened his window just in case. He'd air it out a minute. Maybe it was just his bear nose? He was never sure. Some smells didn't seem to effect others the way it did him.

"Okay. All set then." He climbed in the driver's seat and gave her another smile, that he couldn't help but think about the conversation they just had smile.

"Guess we can head out."

He had that awkward pause of yup, that's what we're doing now. I got this. He couldn't help it. He'd never attempted to express feelings like that before, not anyone who seemed recipricating. He had to tell his brain to stop it and move on.

Once he got the truck in gear and pulled out he started to feel a lot more normal. He just needed to get in motion again. He reached for the radio. He almost couldn't remember where he was going. That was because it was no place in particular. He wanted to cruise the rez.

"I just want to loop around the old neighborhood first. Feel like I'm actually here." He explained. They'd come straight through town one mission for the burial and it didn't allow for much sight seeing. He was so stuck on the grief of his mothers he didn't get to enjoy any nostalgia of his childhood.

So, that's how it would start once they got away from the vampire's home. Koda would put his window down all the way and hang his arm out and start grinning when memories would hit. He'd point with his arm hung out. "There. Right there. See that house." He'd say. "That's where we'd all go play freezetag in the back yard. We always hung out at that kid's house because they had a basketball pole in their driveway."

The pole wouldn't have a net and the metal would be a tad rusty, but it brightened his face. "I remember it having a net though." Everything aged.

He drove around to a playground. He pulled alongside it and parked just to watch the kids play. It was more weathered than he remembered too. "I can't believe that merry-go-round is still there. Wow. We called it the wheel of death. We could never get it to stop." He laughed. "That was always the best part though. We'd always try to make it stop, dig our heels in the dirt, and it was an unstoppable force. It'd drag us kids on the outside right along with it. It was a death wheel."

He kept shaking his head. "Denahi always tried to make sure I had a kid life when I came to visit." He admitted. "Thought my mother was too strict with all the disciplines she trained me in." He just shirked because he loved them both. "Best of both worlds in the end, I guess. But it was sort of like that. Coming here. Like a mini-vacation to be a kid for a little while. Goof off. I just... didn't get to come very often." Another admittance. "Not till I got a little older."

Then from the truck he'd stick his arm way out of the window to the trees. "See back there? Way back there where it looks like you shouldn't go?"

A smirk.

"That's where we all hung out."

His voice amped up as his memories got more vivid and happier. "See now, if you go back there passed the trees, there's a creek. You follow the creek far enough there's these old drain pipes of some kind. We'd hide out and have our, I don't know, whatever secret kid meetings I guess. It was like our private lair except really anyone could have found it. But nobody goes back there, so it felt like our little world.

"Then if you go off trail at just the right tree there's a clearing. That's where the rope swing was. Anyone who was cool, right? They came to this rope swing to prove themselves. Nothing but bastard double dog daring dare devil little shits. That's all we were bullying each other into dangerous situations for a thrill."

"Then if you go off past the other direction if you follow inside the pipes there are two free range open half pipes in the natural earth out the other side. Not the manmade kind, you feel me? The discovered kind and taken over kind. Kicking with our boards back there where it felt like no parents could find us was life."

His knee was bouncing deciding whether he wanted to get out and go have a closer look or drive on to more nostalgia. He hadn't been there since he was a kid.

It got harder for Elsa to speak while Koda was just smiling at her like that. How did this happen, she thought to herself. She used to be immune to things like this. To the smiles from handsome men. It wasn’t as if Flotsam and Koda were the only two that ever pursued her. She just rarely gave anyone a chance to get on a closer level than a friendly nod if they saw each other in public. But here she was, feeling like her sister Anna used to, whenever she used to fall in love at first sight.

She rolled her eyes, almost in a playful type of matter. “Of course you did. You enjoy challenging me, don’t you?”

Because talking about her feelings was challenging. Especially when she hadn’t been planning on having this type of conversation, and hadn’t gone over and over in her head what she wanted to say. It would still have been genuine but - it would have been a lot better thought out than how this was going right now. Oh, she wanted to kiss that almost-smug, pleased smile off of his face right this second, just to make herself feel better. The corners of her mouth were twitching with slight embarrassment.

So that was that. It was all out in the open now, and she couldn’t breathe back in the words that she had said, even if she wanted to. Her mind was already thinking along the lines of she wished she could have just written this in a letter so she wouldn’t feel the heat in her cheeks combining with the cold of her body, giving her a deer-in-the-headlights type of feeling.

There was relief in the breath that she let out when he spoke again. Put a pin in it. That sounded like the grand idea. Give her time to think about what she wanted to say, to articulate it properly. She probably would write it in a letter, on nice stationary, though no doubt Koda would probably try to get her to read it out loud, say all of the potentially gushy things.

“Yes, that sounds like a good idea," She nodded, getting her dignity back, straightening up her spine so that her head was held tall as she looked back over at Koda. That damn grin. The hints of it still at the corner of his mouth while he talked. “I’ll see you in a few moments.”

Once he left, she bent down over one of the chairs, her hands on the table as she tried to collect herself. It felt like a release somehow. The way that crying sometimes did, not that she did that very often either. She and Koda were in very good standing. They both really liked each other, even though there was still no name on any of this. And he was going to keep showing her parts of his life, being open with her.

And she had started in doing the same, opening up about when she had to speak at her own parents funeral. But he was going above and beyond that by having her here. It made her give thought to what she could do in return, to open up to him further as well, as nerve-wracking as that was.

She helped herself to a light breakfast, just what was around the house, making a mental note of what she took so that she could either pay for it later or replace it. She respected the house and Koda’s uncle, and did not want to be in debt to them for anything. Then, after making sure she was ready, and had given Koda ample time, she walked out into the sunshine that the vampires could not, to see the process that he had made on the truck.

“Much better,” She admired approvingly, seeing the filled trash bag and recycle bin and that the inside of the truck had been cleared out.

[silusvesuius]

testing out drawing maormer 🪸🐚🪸 and a nelvas 🧣📜🩷 i'll ramble about maormer a bit in the tags

[sysig]

Ooo requestober eh? Something I've been curious to see a bit more of maybe is Jake interracting with Scriabin. Edgar wondering about what the two of them talk about together alone got me curious too 👀

(Resending to the main for you :3)

Day 3 - Definitely not kissing! If that's what you think!

Meanwhile, Jake:

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[devilsskettle]

not only was i correct about this and think saying “the story is ONLY about what the story is about!!” is stupid but also i think the substance does more than “beauty standards are bad :( it makes girls sad” thing like i think the criticism is so specific to women in the film industry and not just that it makes women in general feel insecure but ageism is an actual structural issue for women with careers in hollywood and all the double standards and power dynamics involving men and sure that message has been “done before” but the fact that it’s still a problem means those stories need to continue to be told and if men complain that it’s “too on the nose” that means it’s something they can’t ignore just because it makes them uncomfortable. they SHOULD feel uncomfortable! the substance achieves that very well. also there is a fascinating perversion of the mother/daughter relationship at play or at least an intergenerational conflict in which both the older and younger generations of women are commodified but put in competition with each other, blaming each other for the limited spaces for women in their field rather than acknowledging that that limitation is institutionally imposed. etc.

i also think it’s interesting how little i’ve seen about the ending/“elisasue” maybe because of how much body horror is involved, it’s a carrie-esque scene without the audience really being able to project a power fantasy onto it because of elisasue’s monstrous appearance and how completely crushed her aspirations are in that moment. i literally sobbed watching that scene hahaha but i think that the pity it invokes in the viewer is overwhelming and not cathartic in the same way that carrie is, i think it actually discourages identification with elisasue in that moment and like i’ve said we all think we’re carrie in part BECAUSE of the catharsis of the “underdog getting revenge” ending and also because in film adaptations she’s generally more conventionally attractive than she is in the book. so that’s something i was pondering after finishing the substance as well and the roles that women traditionally play in horror which can be ambiguously feminist or sexist depending on your interpretation. i think the substance doesn’t let you wiggle out of discomfort by letting you feel vindication for the main character, it’s just horrible to watch (which is fantastic imo!! i love how horrible it is) but i think some people found it to be a bit much, although i think the audiences who would’ve thought that are not really who this movie is for tbh

anyway i think my instincts were right on this one just from reading the reviews and i’m glad i finally sat down and watched it and gave myself some time to process how i feel about the movie, i’m kind of surprised that people are being as dismissive of it as i’ve seen but again it’s just filmbros on letterboxd that i’ve seen saying that so like. grain of salt etc. although i’ve seen people who otherwise seem to have a positive opinion of the film almost confessionally say it was “on the nose” like that’s a bad thing….. why is that a bad thing lol sometimes subtlety is lost on certain audiences

another thing that pissed me off today was reading letterboxd reviews of the substance by men saying it was too on the nose basically like it hits you over the head with the “shallow, overdone” theme of beauty standards for women in the entertainment industry or whatever and it “doesn’t have anything else to say” (i was under the impression that that WAS the premise of the film??? what more do you want it to say). one guy was like this movie ignores the body positivity movement and the great strides we’ve made as a culture etc etc like shut the fuck up!!!!! shut up!!!!!! apparently you haven’t noticed that we are actively regressing in terms of the body positivity/body neutrality/anti diet culture movements.“beauty” and makeup culture, diet culture, plastic surgery, and other trends and social mores that dictate women’s appearances are extremely ingrained in our pop culture consciousness rn. marketers might use different terms to disguise what they’re doing like the bastardized “choice feminism” but it’s just the same shit repackaged and we’ve barely made any progress. if you think we’re past the point where “beauty standards are bad” is a useful message in a film, you are wrong!!!!! i haven’t even seen this movie yet, i was trying to decide if i wanted to go see this movie, and that attitude just rubs me the wrong way. it’s like trying to find an excuse why people don’t want movies with overtly feminist themes — is it “too on the nose” and unnecessary or do you just not want there to be movies with overtly feminist themes

[scalproie]

my extremely corny and indulgent but satisfying and symbolic ideal scenario for Kazuya and Jin to fully Break The Cycle™️ would be for one of them to grab and save the other from falling off a great height. perhaps even a cliff.

[therighthandofvengeance]

all I’m saying is that if John J. Sheridan were really midwestern, he would have brought a potluck-style salad to Delenn's quarters

[gibbearish]

how would we feel about transcendex

i want. to try and coin a term for transmascs (+ maybe cis women? idk if theyd be interested) with vaginismus whose gender identity therefore feels intrinsically tied to transfemininity. bc i know i cant be the only one whose wires got tied up by that whole situation. and like afaik vaginismus doesnt count as intersex since its not really an "inbetween" thing so much as just An Orifice Not Working As Intended so i dont feel comfortable using that myself but i also like. idk feel like there does need to be a word for it

[kalloway]

lil portrait from a ref I have of my DS3 character, Anetta!

but who cares about that, let me instead share the cursed information I discovered yesterday about how Anri (guy) is voiced by the same guy who voiced Harry Potter in like most of the video game adaptations

[phagodyke]

yeah I'm not gonna talk abt it am I...