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@warlccked
[ So I uh…. I may have remembered that this blog (and my other rp blogs) existed over the last few days and am now considering making a return. I have no idea if anyone that I used to RP with is still around but if you are, hello, I hope you’re doing well! ]
[ Also please excuse me while I more or less entirely overhaul this blog’s theme and update/polish just about everything. ]
[ So I uh.... I may have remembered that this blog (and my other rp blogs) existed over the last few days and am now considering making a return. I have no idea if anyone that I used to RP with is still around but if you are, hello, I hope you’re doing well! ]
SLAM DUNKS ❤/✰ INTO YOUR INBOX YOU CHOOSE HOW CUTESY AND ROMO-EY YOU WANT THIS TO BE BUD
Cade stands proudly by the blanket fort he’s just built them, constructed from no less than four chairs, some spare wire he had in the basement, the sheets from the guest bedroom, a string of fairy lights, and a half-dozen soft pillows. It is absolute paradise, and he’s thanking his foresight (literally) that he had all of this stuff on hand. “Alright, so that’s set up–what do you want for snacks? Popcorn is the CLASSIC choice, but since it’s Halloween…maybe something a little more seasonal?” He turns to his guest, automatically smiling in plain EAGERNESS for the rest of their afternoon. Sitting cuddled in the blanket fort, watching a movie marathon, gorging themselves on snacks; it will be utterly perfect. But he’s putting the decision of movies and snacks firmly in Matt’s hands, lest he risk micromanaging this.
“…I’ve never been one to turn down popcorn.” Not since the first time he’d tasted it, at least. Matthei can’t help but smile as Cade moves to stand beside him, reaching out to press a hand to the small of his back almost absently as he surveys the veritable fort before them. Cade had managed to construct the entire thing more or less completely on his own in a matter of minutes, pulling chairs and hauling blankets and positioning pillows at a rate that even Matt’s magic would have struggled to keep up with, and the end result is nothing short of stunning. Matt’s already set half a dozen fey-lights to floating within in, casting small pools of golden light around their dust-mote forms, and he’s already so, so keen to get settled in. “How about we start with popcorn, and see what we feel like after that?”
porticosdaughter:
“You’d rather I didn’t fall asleep on you, hm?” It’s said in a teasing tone, the words having to pass their way through a smirk. A perhaps she’ll have to take for now; make herself a little mental note to bring it up again at a later time and place. Mostly because she knows he’s right — she’s warm and comfortable as it is now, and even the slightest hint of a song in his voice ( no matter how curious she is to get to hear it ) is going to have her eyes heavy in a matter of moments.
As if she needed another reason to smile now.
Her hand finds the side of his face, palm pressed gently against his cheek as he kisses hers. She turns just enough so her lips can find his as she hums an “I love you too” against them. Those three little words are far better than any sort of lullaby.
“I don’t think I’d complain,” Matt replies easily, nuzzling at her cheek for just a moment before drawing back slightly, smiling in the aftermath of Door’s gentle kiss, “I’d just rather you didn’t fall asleep on me right now, dearest. Not when there’s still conversation to be had.” His hand doesn’t leave her hip as he speaks but instead stays where it is, relishing in the warmth and the curve of her hipbone under his palm. He feels like kissing her again. He feels like holding her hand and listening to her speak until the sun touches the sky in morning.
He feels like many things.
But, he decides quickly enough, he feels like kissing her again most of all, and so he does. He ducks his head as if in prayer and presses his lips to hers, his free hand raising to brush absently against her hair. “Door,” he murmurs, moulds the shape of her name against her lips, “Darling…” Conversation, he has decided, can wait for a little while.
necromantiia:
'luckily I cannot become sick, hm?’ a teasing comment in return to matt’s, a small laugh forming shortly after. no, he was not sick, only thrilled. for once he wanted a change in what he calls a halloween tradition, the same tradition he’s followed for centuries now. his life was different in many ways, most of those changes coming from having a partner and wanting to create their own traditions, memories. the closeness does not surprise him, seems custom now, as he, too, find himself closer to matt where he can feel them against himself.
'actually, despite age, there are many halloween activities I have not participated in or have done.’ nadav would correct, his tone suddenly softer. to say he was upset that he had not participated in these activities would be also correct, however the familiar warmth he feels from matt’s hand mixed with the soft feeling of lips pressed to his cheek causes him to smile and those thoughts vanished for a quick moment. ‘never had the chance I should say, exactly why I wish to do some with you. I adore my family, love them to bits, but i’ve been doing the same things for centuries now.’
“Unfortunately for both of us, I can,” Matt says, unable to stop himself from grumbling. Despite being a warlock, he’s found himself to be lacking the magically-fuelled immune system that so many of his peers – and his boyfriend – seemed to possess. “I’m awful when I’m ill, darling. All needy for affection, all the time.” So really, his normal state, but only more so.
But anyway. They were talking about Halloween.
“Are there now?” Well, Matthei would have to fix that. He had never been quite as keen on Halloween and all the accompanying activities as Nadav was, but he struggled to believe that he had really done more Halloween activities than the necromancer in his life. “Well, we’ll just have to fix that, won’t we?” He gives a slight smile, leaning in closer until half of his weight is resting against Nadav’s side, warm and comfortable. “I feel pumpkin carving is as good a place to start as any.”
porticosdaughter:
“Scotland. Can you believe I’ve never been?” It probably seems a little bit ridiculous, considering she’s able to essentially come and go where and when she pleases. For all the traveling she has done ( she’s here almost as much as she’s back in London nowadays ), there are still far too many places to tick off her little list. “Got as far as Hadrian’s Wall once,“ and the part she’d gone to see had been little more than a foot of stones stacked up —– the cows on the other side having a bit of lunch were more interesting, "but that’s the furthest North I’ve ever gone.”
Which is a shame —– she’s heard some good things about Edinburgh Below.
She realizes fairly quickly she’s going to have to offer more to that little story; the bare bones details she’s offered don’t do it nearly enough justice.
"A salamander, I promise. Little black and yellow thing sitting in the middle of my bed.” And it had been just as scared of her as she had been of it. “The Market, I imagine. You can get just about anything there when it pops up. I’m sure he went table to table looking at all the foreign little beasties you can get for pets and potions.” She assumes, but she remembers Arch’s mischevious streak well. Mostly because it mirrored her own almost step for step and prank for prank.
“I got him back, though,” she says with a smirk. “He got a hedgehog in his underwear drawer.”
“…My word.”
Matt smiles, propping his chin up on one hand as he watches Door tell her story. He can picture it easily, all too accustomed to the teases and pranks that come hand-in-hand with having siblings, and it’s altogether so very easy to picture the shape of a coiled salamander nestled amongst blankets and sheets, to picture Door’s reaction, to picture Door’s face as she begins to think of a plan in retaliation.
“Would it be awful to say that, somehow, I’m not surprised? Either by your brother or by your retaliation?” He can’t imagine Door would be too annoyed by his lack of shock – after all, she has proven herself to be a keen planner with a knack for pranking, though Matt is definitely grateful that all the pranking he’s encountered from her has only been in the form of stories.
So far.
“My sister and I used to be similar, though I don’t think we were ever quite at the level of salamanders and hedgehogs hidden in each others beds,” he says, still smiling. “We played much smaller pranks. Though admittedly, I did once blight the foxgloves she was trying to grow in the garden alongside Mama’s herbs… she never believed me when I told her it was an accident, even if it really truly was…”
You may have noticed that I’ve been pretty inactive recently, and that’s primarily due to bonkers levels of business as a result of uni work + other assorted extra curricular activities. I’m going to stay about this level of active for probably the next month or so, so heads up there.
Currently I owe: @necromantiia (x2), @psychiks (x2), @porticosdaughter (x4)
porticosdaughter:
"That’s a shame.“ Somehow along the way maybe she had convinced herself it would fall away if she tried hard enough. Time was supposed to heal, wasn’t it? But they never mention the part about the bits and pieces that linger on; the scrapes and scars that can’t help but remind you every time you manage to catch a glimpse of them. Her free hand gravitates towards her shoulder, the most visible reminder of what she’s endured hidden under both the palm of her hand and the fabric of her shirt. Every now and again she swears it still pinches just a little, the bit of pink skin that won’t fade no matter how she tries.
"I was hoping maybe I’ve just been doing it wrong all this time.”
Regardless, she nods when he smiles. He’s trying to help —— and he is, in a way. The reassurance that she can do it, that she can carry on ( and she can; she has. Maybe she just needed someone else to say it to her for it to sink in properly ) is more than just appreciated.
“Sometime we’ll sit down and I’ll tell you. Just. Not now.” I’ve already ruined this moment more than I wanted to. I don’t want to bring everything else down with it. I want to remember the warmth that came with this. “But I will, I promise. It’s something I want you to know.” Eventually.
Her nose twitches slightly —- she thinks not enough to be noticeable —- when he lets go of her hand, the warmth against her skin she’s gotten used to draining away fairly quickly now without the contact. Part of her wants to reach out and attempt to catch it a second time, to pull his hand back towards her, but she talks herself out of it at the last minute.
“Tell me something happy. I feel like I’ve just set us back a good thirty years will all this talk.”
“Something happy?”
Matt frowns slightly, fingers drumming against the tabletop as he tries to think of something, of some story, that would suit the occasion. After everything they’ve spoken of he doesn’t want it to be entirely trite and pointless – he would like it to have some meaning, while still being lighthearted enough to act as a suitable distraction. He has plenty of stories, of course – it would be almost impossible not to, after having spent literal centuries on this planet – but picking the right one is more of a challenge.
Although… Door didn’t say it had to be a story.
“Did you know that sometimes, when you see a cluster of mushrooms, all the mushrooms are speaking to each other? Not with voices of course, unless they are actually inhabited by the fae, in which case it is best altogether to steer clear of them entirely, but with chemicals and tiny electrical signals, in a somewhat similar way to how brains and nervous systems communicate? They tell each other about what’s going in around them, about the weather and the humidity and the alkali content of the soil, and they also speak to other plants in the nearby area. They’re made of these little threads, almost – they’re called mycelium, which I personally think is a lovely sounding word – and they connect plants and bushes and trees together and they all talk. It’s sort of symbiotic, but not actually – the trees can provide the fungi with nutrients and in exchange the fungi help to take in water and provide nutrients like phosphorus and nitrogen, as well as boosting the other plants immune systems. It’s all rather beautiful, really.”
Matt pauses, glancing over to Door to ensure he isn’t boring her – he’s not quite sure why his brain decided that mushroom communication networks were clearly the best way to cheer her up, but apparently it did, and now he’s a little concerned that he may possible be boring her senseless.
“…I’m not sure it’s exactly happy, but I think it’s rather sweet…”
★*ﾟ‘ﾟ･The Mummy (1999)
❝ What are you doing here? ❞ ❝ You must go. Save yourself. Only you can resurrect me. ❞ ❝ By eating the sacred scarabs, I would be cursed to stay alive forever. And by eating me, they were cursed just the same. ❞ ❝ I knew this was gonna be a lousy day. ❞ ❝ Personally, I would like to surrender. Why can we not just surrender? ❞ ❝ Then let’s run away. Right now. While we can still make it. ❞ ❝ Now gimme your revolver, you’ll never use it anyway. ❞ ❝ Let’s play dead, huh? Nobody ever does that anymore. ❞ ❝ What are ya doing?! Wait up! ❞ ❝ I’m gonna get you for this! ❞ ❝ I’m sorry, it was an accident. ❞ ❝ Have you no respect for the dead? ❞ ❝ Where did you get this? ❞ ❝ Two questions. Who the hell is Seti the First? And was he rich? ❞ ❝ As the Americans would say: it’s all fairy tales and hokum. ❞ ❝ I’m sure it was a fake, anyway. ❞ ❝ You lied to me! ❞ ❝ I lie to everybody, what makes you so special? ❞ ❝ And what is he in prison for? ❞ ❝ He said… he was just looking for a good time. ❞ ❝ What did you find? What did you see? ❞ ❝ Get me the hell outta here. ❞ ❝ I will give you one hundred pounds to spare his life. ❞ ❝ Yeah, I’d like ya to let me go. ❞ ❝ Then we will kill her, we will kill her and all those with her. ❞ ❝ For all the money we’re paying you, something better god-damned well be under that sand. ❞ ❝ Do you really think he’ll show up? ❞ ❝ Personally, I think he’s filthy, rude and a complete scoundrel. I don’t like him one bit. ❞ ❝ I have come to protect my investment, thank you very much. ❞ ❝ I only gamble with my life, never my money. ❞ ❝ What makes you so confident, sir? ❞ ❝ Sorry, didn’t mean to scare ya. ❞ ❝ Still angry that I kissed ya, huh? ❞ ❝ The last time I was at that place everybody I was with died. ❞ ❝ By the way,… why did you kiss me? ❞ ❝ You always did have more balls than brains. ❞ ❝ Can you swim? ❞ ❝ Americans. ❞ ❝ I can’t believe the price of these fleabags. ❞ ❝ All night you snored! ❞ ❝ What in bloody hell is this? ❞ ❝ Ah, begging your pardon, but shouldn’t we be going? ❞ ❝ You boys owe me five hundred dollars. ❞ ❝ Where’d all these camels come from? ❞ ❝ That thing gives me the creeps. ❞ ❝ What are those mirrors for? ❞ ❝ Who cares? I don’t see no treasure. ❞ ❝ You’re welcome to my share of the spider webs. ❞ ❝ Mummies, my good son, this is where they made the mummies. ❞ ❝ Ya scared the bejeezus out of us. ❞ ❝ I’ve had worse. ❞ ❝ Let’s be nice, children, if we’re going to play together, we must learn to share. ❞ ❝And when those dirty Yanks go to sleep – No offence. ❞ ❝ We’ll sneak up and steal that book right out from under them. ❞ ❝ What do you suppose killed him? ❞ ❝ I believe if I can see it and I can touch it, then it’s real. That’s what I believe. ❞ ❝ Why do you like to fight so much? ❞ ❝ LEAVE THIS PLACE!… LEAVE THIS PLACE DIE! ❞ ❝ For them to protect it like this, you just know there’s got to be treasure down there. ❞ ❝ …I am a librarian! ❞ ❝ I can’t believe I allowed the two of you to get me drunk. ❞ ❝ You dream about dead guys? ❞ ❝ Stupid superstitious bastard. ❞ ❝ Oh my god, he was buried alive. ❞ ❝ What are you going to do? Shoot him? ❞ ❝ Did you see that!? Grasshoppers! Billions of grasshoppers! ❞ ❝ That’s one of the plagues, right? The grasshopper plague! ❞ ❝ Oh thank goodness, you’re one of the Americans, aren’t you? ❞ ❝ RUN, YOU SONS-A-BITCHES! RUUUUN! ❞ ❝ Help me,… please,… help me. ❞ ❝ No mortal weapons can kill this creature. He is not of this world. ❞ ❝ You left me! You left me in the desert to rot. ❞ ❝ Sweet Jesus! That tasted just like,…like… ❞ ❝ You saved me from the undead. For this, I shall make you immortal. ❞ ❝ There’s only one person I know who can possibly give us some answers. ❞ ❝ And you think this justifies killing innocent people!? ❞ ❝ Okay, let’s cut to the chase. He’s afraid of cats, what’s that about? ❞ ❝ The hell with that! I’m not goin’ nowhere! We’re safe here. ❞ ❝ What friend? You’re my only friend. ❞ ❝ What are you looking for? Lie, and I’ll slit your throat. ❞ ❝ Something about bringing his dead girly-friend back to life. He needs the book… ❞ ❝ Ya know, ever since I met you, my luck has been for crap. ❞ ❝ The hell with this. I’m goin, downstairs to get me a drink. You want somethin’? ❞ ❝ Yeah, get me a glass of bourbon, a shot of bourbon and a bourbon chaser. ❞ ❝ Jealous? You kiddin’ me? Did you see that guy’s face? ❞ ❝ Is it dangerous? ❞ ❝ Save the damsel in distress, kill the bad guy and steal his treasure. ❞ ❝ You know, nasty little fellows such as yourself, always get their comeuppance. ❞ ❝ From now on, don’t touch anything. Not a damn thing. Keep your hands off the furniture, got it? ❞ ❝ He wants your heart and your brain, your liver, your kidneys… ❞ ❝ I never killed a priest before. ❞ ❝ Kill them! Kill them all! And bring me the Book Of The Living! ❞ ❝ This just keeps gettin, better and better. ❞ ❝ Death is only the beginning. ❞ ❝ Well,… I guess we go home empty handed. ❞
porticosdaughter:
“That’s ——– that’s one I think I might be able to keep.” One without even a high level of difficulty. It’ll be a nice change from the usual sort of promises she puts on her shoulders, hoping for the best and fearing the worst.
His hand relaxes and she allowed hers to do the same, alternating between letting hers hover over his again and ghosting his palm with hers. She was already sure that friendship was going to be a fine line for her to walk now that it was out in the open; a line she’s not entirely sure she can keep to. The feeling that bubbles up in her chest when she sees him speaks to something a bit more than simple companionship; it’s a pleasant sort of flutter, an almost welcome kind of knot that settles in whenever he’s there. But if she’s meant to keep it tempered down; if she’s meant to try and hide that —– she’ll have to try.
“Good. I know how difficult that is.” It seemed so much easier to go and internalize everything, didn’t it? Saved her the trouble of finding out if she was right or wrong, made sure there wasn’t that wave of embarrassment afterward when it turned out to be the latter. ( And if you just go in assuming you’re wrong, saves quite a bit of energy, doesn’t it? )
“But I think it’s well worth the effort to try. Might be nice to share for a change instead of just stuffing it down and hoping it all goes away.”
“Yes… I’ve been reliably informed by my sister that ‘bottling up your emotions’ is apparently not the done thing in this day and age, and that it can prove to be rather bad for you.”
He grins, just a little, and doesn’t let go of Door’s hand. Not quite yet. This, he feels, is something that is simple enough to be an act of friendship, and nothing more – times have changed from when he was young, and hand-holding is no longer a subtle but nevertheless clear indicator of interest. It is just… friendly. Simple. It’s an action of plausible deniability, and Matthei can do that. He can do friendly. He’s sure that just bottling up one or two feelings won’t do too much harm in the long run.
He thinks about how, in truth, it’s closer to a dozen or even twenty feelings, and then he bottles that thought up too. There’s nothing to be done about it, after all. Even if Door did like him back – and he’s knows that’s a significant if – he would still be hesitant to risk their friendship in order to find out.
Matthei is content with this.
“So we’re agreed, yes? We’ll both attempt to stop overthinking things, and to let each other know if we fear we are overthinking something?”
porticosdaughter:
“Well ——- ” He’s gone and asked outright, so there went any hope to bury her worry down in the rest of the conversation. She begins to tug at her hair, tucking piece after piece behind her ear. “I know you said before it wasn’t anything bad.”
But my mind goes there straight away. I can’t help it.
How does she explain the worry she has about people she gets close to leaving? How does she put into words that fear she has about being forgotten the second someone’s back is turned? And this is, of course, all on her shoulders —- there’s nothing he’s done or said that’s prompted her to start looking for the signs.
“Honestly?”
More hair tugging is compounded with a good tug on her lip before she realises what she’s been doing. She forces her hand down from behind her ear, letting her fingers anchor themselves around the mug once again. The tea’s still good and hot; the mug following suit, but she doesn’t move her hands.
“I thought this was going to be one of those discussions where you realise it isn’t working out, or you just want to stay friends. You know. One of those.” She’d even sorted out what she was going to say on the way over. Promise him it was all fine, that she agreed ( even if she really didn’t ), anything to make it a less painful experience. Anything to at least stay friends when all was said and done.
But he’d gone in a different direction entirely.
“So see. Silly. Completely silly of me.”
“It’s not silly at all.”
Whatever smile Matt may have worn earlier is gone – he’s entirely serious now, brow furrowed slightly in something akin to concern as he leans in a little closer, rests his hand over Door’s in a gentle, subtle way to say I’m still here. “It’s not silly,” he says again, softer this time, “It’s a very normal thought and fear to have – one that I myself get quite frequently – and it’s not silly, not even remotely.”
Of course, that doesn’t mean that it isn’t a thought that Matt himself has had far too many times since that day he first kissed Door. He’d been convinced for quite a while after they parted ways that day that the next time he saw Door would be the time when it all came out, when she told him that it was a mistake, and accident, that it didn’t mean anything and they should probably just be good friends and then he’d agree because of course, how could he not? And then he’d pretend everything was fine right up until it all came to a head and it wasn’t.
Which, in a strange, twisted sort of way, made him almost happy that Door had had the same fear. Not truly happy, of course, not actually pleased in any way to know that someone he cared for had been worrying and stressing so much, but… relaxed. Comfortable in the knowledge that if they both had this fear, then it probably wasn’t going to happen to either of them.
Matthei smiles, just a little, just for a moment, and thinks about leaning forwards to kiss her on the cheek.
He can do that now, so he does.
“I’m not sure if I’ve made it altogether clear, dearest,” he says as he sits back, “But I like you. An awful lot.” He takes her hand in his, and squeezes it softly. In what little space remains between his skin and hers, and soft glow of magic grows and warms and settles, just for a moment. “You are… exceedingly dear to me, and if you wanted to just be friends I would of course accept that but I would- I would rather not. Not just be friends, that is.” Matthei looks up at her with a slight smile. “There is a reason I kissed you after you’d been away but a month or so, Door. That reason wasn’t just friendship. You have nothing to be worried about, and you’re not being silly.”
necromantiia:
‘you don’t want to.’ meet a ghoul that is. nadav could be biased about ghouls, there was a slight chance that ghouls have developed over the years, but that was like saying a werewolf or vampire did not have a natural instinct. did ghouls have a g o o d side? was there a g o o d ghoul? he doubted it. all he knew was that ghouls were not friendly creatures, they were vile, they were nothing of a warm meeting - quite the opposite actually. his eyes would close as he lightly pinches the bridge of his nose, might as well get this story out, might as well share pieces of his childhood even if he preferred sharing lighter tales of his childhood.
‘like said, my grandmother and mother put me through a series of tests to make sure I for one was a born necromancer and I would be able to build my skills stronger. to expose a child to necromancy, to death, to, you get the point, is terrifying to say the least. I didn’t understand why I had to talk to spirits or bring the dead back to life, but that doesn’t matter.’ it paid off, he was skilled, he was a master at his abilities, though sometimes he would have preferred a normal childhood – if possible.
‘anyway, they never told me of ghouls. so, let’s just imagine we’re about five years old and in the middle of a graveyard. you’re alone and you’re told to sit there and try to contact the spirits. what I didn’t expect was to be surrounded by hunched over shadowy figures, only their disgusting sharp teeth shining through - it was dinner time, clearly. while, a ghoul typically does not feast on the living, but they made it very clear they would make an exception for me. they wouldn’t leave me alone because I was vulnerable and I was scared. every night was a game to them, from chasing me, to threatening me, to…I swear one bit me, but my mother think that was in a dream; which, eventually I told her.
I don’t know, if this had been now i’d be fine, but I was a child and it’s stuck to be since then. I don’t need to share many details because i’m certain it’s obvious that what I went through was absolute hell on earth. thing is, there isn’t many defenses against them — surprise, surprise.’
Matthei doesn’t say anything for a while – he just shifts closer on the couch, reaching out to take Nadav’s hand as his arm wraps around Nadav’s shoulders, drawing him in against Matt’s side in a gentle half-hug. Matt runs his hand up and down Nadav’s arm in slow, gentle strokes as his boyfriend speaks, and presses a swift and gentle kiss to the top of his head once he finishes. “I think it is clear to see,” he says softly, “That you had a very different upbringing from myself, dear.”
He doesn’t say what his feelings are about Nadav’s family now. He feels that may perhaps be too harsh.
Harsh, but probably still fair, because honestly, who on earth would leave a child, even a magical one, alone in a graveyard with ghouls around? Matthei can feel himself growing angry and does his best to quickly tamp the feeling down, not wanting to upset Nadav any more than he already is. Instead he kisses Nadav’s head again, and takes a breath.
“Five years old is definitely too young to encounter ghouls, based off what you’ve just told me. I know I certainly wouldn’t want to meet them, even now.”
MY LAPTOP IS BUST, REPLIES WILL BE SLOW
And by slow I mean ‘will probably take me several weeks at least to get round to them, because uni is also killing me’.
I owe @necromantiia, @porticosdaughter, @psychiks
porticosdaughter:
The way he says her name only causes her smile to grow; makes for a proper flutter in her chest now just to hear it. Say it again, say it again just like that. She wants to hum it against his lips and curl herself around him just a little bit more if that will encourage it. Instead, all she can manage is a sigh as she tries to time the circles she’s drawing at the nape of his neck in time with the ones he’s sketching against her back.
As if on cue she feels the colour start to rise again on her cheeks — beautiful isn’t something she often hears, the urge to protest the association fleeting only because he offers her something else to latch on to.
"Good.“
Whenever she wishes is the sort of instruction she plans on utilizing to its full extent. This is far too comfortable — almost familiar, even only after a few moments of it — for her to wish for anything else but this over and over again. She feels warm here, a feat all to itself, as she more often than not one to fidget and complain about being far too cold for her liking. "I like the way that sounds.” The sound of her name or the open ended invite for more of the same? Perhaps a little bit of both.
And she’s quick to take advantage, sneaking in another peck before he can change his mind. ( Not that she really thinks he will —- neither one of them has budged more than an inch since this all started really. )
“You know the same goes for you as well, hm?”
Matt can only smile when Door leans in again, already moving to meet her halfway. The touch is light and fleeting but he delights in it, adores it, adores the ease that they have already found, the way they have already started to naturally fit in around each other, find each others lips and hand and exist in the same shared space. It feels simultaneously brand new and as if it’s been happening for years. As if this change was something that the universe would have overseen one day, no matter what.
It feels right, above all.
“I was certainly hoping so.”
Though now that he has the confirmation, now that he has Door’s permission, he can’t stop himself from doing what she did only moments ago; leaning in to steal a kiss of his own in the softest act of retribution. His hands, which had previously been pressed gentle and warm to her side and back, now shift to encircle her completely as Matt draws her into a hug, tilting his head to rest it against her shoulder before he presses another far more absent-minded kiss to her neck. It feels right. It feels comfortable.
It feels like home, and that is perhaps the most wondrous bit of all.
Matthei has no qualms now about doing this – he knows that Door knows perfectly well how very affectionate he can be, and now that he knows his feelings, his wishes, are reciprocated, are felt in turn by the one he’s come to care for so very deeply, he doesn’t even try to stop himself from hugging her. He just grins, wide and honest and delighted, and catches himself stifling a soft laugh into her shoulder a moment later.
“…How on Earth did this take us so long?”
spliitlip:
he’s perhaps a little too high for this , a little to dumb for this ; brow creases gently as confusion settles gracefully ‘pon pale features . ‶ y’lookin’ for WEEDS … but not … weed…. ? ″ it takes noel a moment to register what he’s said , looking to his friends who shrug. ‶ bro , baby , this is HELL’S KITCHEN . be easier t’find cocaine than flowers in these streets . ″
“You’d be surprised what you can find if only you know where to look.” Case in point: Matthei’s bag already contains assorted handfuls of different plants, dandelion and clover and small bunches of the moss that cross beneath railings tied into neat bundles and tucked away amongst Tupperware boxes. “… Which, now that I say it, I realise probably applies to drugs as well, but that’s been the case in most of the cities I’ve lived in.”
psychiks:
"Hey, you don’t have to apologize. I get it, actually. You don’t want people assuming things about who you are just because of the way you look. Believe me–I come from a small town. I’m six three, and I said goodbye to two hundred pounds a while back. I’ve got dark hair and what could generously be described as ‘resting bitch face’, but is really more like ‘resting serial killer face’. Add in the rumor that I’m schizophrenic, and people cross the street to avoid me. They all assume I want to rip their faces off or something, and I’m just trying to get my grocery shopping done. I’ve had moms pull little kids away from the grocery aisle I was in just to avoid walking past me, people whisper behind my back and then pretend to look away when I turn to them, HELL, I even had a gas station attendant tell me to keep the extra two dollars in change he gave me because he wanted to get me out of his 7-11. I know a thing or two about other people not seeing what you want them to see.” While he might not have centuries of experience with that sort of thing, he HAS felt people not taking him seriously before. He’s fought that same fight, just on different grounds. “I used to hate myself because I’d look at sweaters in the store and think how comfortable they must feel, and how beautiful women’s jewelry was, and how much I wished I could do something different with the same face that stared back at me every day. And then I decided ‘fuck it’. I am who I am, no matter what I look like. I can wear pink if I want to, doesn’t make me LESS of a man. And I might be scary-looking, but I still love kittens and rainbows and chocolate chip muffins. You might be small and mostly wear sweaters, but you’re still a complete fucking badass, okay Matty?”
“Some people would argue it’s better to be feared than to be loved,” Matt says. “At least then you may commandeer respect from your peers, even if it is tinged with fear.” He crosses his arms across his chest again, fingertips brushing against the soft fabric of his sweater. Much as he complains about not being respected because of his looks alone he knows he’s not going to change his ways any time soon – he likes his soft sweaters and his plants and his old, dusty books, and even if he’s sure he could garner more respect, more appreciation by dressing how a warlock should dress, how he’s been told he should dress, he’s not going to do it. For now he will just accept the snide comments, and the jeering remarks, and the quiet way in which so many other warlocks and witches and sorcerers take their business elsewhere when they see that Matthei would be the one to design and cast the ward they have commissioned, and continue on as he has for the last several hundred years. “I appreciate your words, Cade, I really do, but I’m just… annoyed. It can be awfully grating at times.”
necromantiia:
halloween was that one celebration that nadav and his family stuck to. a tradition, in some way, to do something as a family. much like christmas, which nadav enjoyed just as much, though halloween naturally felt like home. he doesn’t answer right away he takes a moment to pause and reflect on the question. did he have anything in mind? nothing in particular. nadav more so enjoyed halloween, fall-like, type of activities leading up to halloween…even if technically he’s never participated in any.
‘no,’ he responds, another pause before he smiles, ‘I wanted to try more halloween-esque activities, though. to be honest, I love to decorate and attend an occasional party, but the idea of doing halloween activities i’ve never done. I thought we could try some together?’
“I assumed decorating was a given,” Matt replies with a grin, standing and moving to be closer than Nadav. It’s become such a natural thing for him to do since they started their relationship – for Matt to put himself alongside Nadav, to reach out and take his hand, to keep some sort of contact and closeness as if reminding himself that Nadav is real, that this is all real. “If you’d told me anything else I would’ve had to fetch a thermometer for fear of sickness.”
He leans in, brushing his lips against Nadav’s cheek in an absent kiss. Between their palms, his magic flares bright and warm for a moment. “I like the sound of activities though, although I can’t image there can be many Halloween activities that you haven’t done yet, seeing how you’re about as old as I am.”
