get weemsical

well i at least managed to get this rough sketch outta me

ㅤㅤWHO'S THE REAL YOU ?   THE PERSON WHO DID SOMETHING AWFUL , OR THE PERSON WHO'S HORRIFIED BY THE AWFUL THING  YOU DID ?   IS ONE PART OF YOU ALLOWED TO FORGIVE THE OTHER ?

[ soothe ] sender kisses receiver to stop them from shaking

[ forehead ] sender tenderly kisses receiver's forehead

[ brief ] sender sneaks a kiss to receiver's cheek as they walk by

[ brow ] sender kisses the bridge of receiver's eyebrow

[ impossible ] sender kisses receiver as a final gesture, knowing they can't be together

[ hiding ] sender checks the area around them before kissing receiver, trying not to get caught

[ handful ] sender peppers the receiver's cheek with multiple, playful kisses

[ line ] sender draws a trail of kisses down the length of receiver's shoulderblade and up their neck

[ almost ] sender and receiver are centimeters apart, about to kiss, but something interrupts them

[ side ] sender places a kiss on the side of receiver's nose

[ tip ] sender kisses the tip of receiver's nose

[ underside ] sender leans in and places a suggestive kiss just under receiver's jawline

[ giggle ] sender starts tickling and kissing the receiver all over in order to make them laugh

[ knuckle ] sender lifts receiver's hand to their lips and places a polite kiss there

[ last ditch ] right before receiver leaves for battle, sender rushes into their arms and kisses them desperately

[ the middle ] in the midst of a battle, sender steals a second alone with receiver and kisses them to reassure them

[ dreamy ] sender and receiver indulge in a handful of slow, romantic kisses

[ darkness ] sender and receiver makeout in a completely dark room

[ ear ] sender nuzzles and kisses receiver's ear

[ recline ] sender climbs ontop of receiver and steals a kiss

[ lazy ] sender kisses receiver to wake them up from a comfortable sleep

[ dramatics ] as sender and receiver argue back and forth, sender launches forward and kisses receiver to stop the fight

[ distance ] across a large space, sender blows receiver a kiss

[ hold ] sender and receiver are hugging, and sender kisses receiver on the cheek in a tender display

[ regret ] sender and receiver start to kiss, but sender backs away in the middle of it, knowing it's a bad idea

[ reunion ] thinking they'd never see each other again, sender and receiver are reunited and run into each other's arms, sharing a kiss

[ inner ] in a heated moment, sender trails kisses along receiver's inner thigh

[ lovebite ] in the midst of kissing receiver's neck, sender changes tactics and gives them a tender little bite

[ greeting ] sender and receiver greet each other with kisses to both cheeks in quick succession

[ bunny ] sender gives receiver a bunny kiss by rubbing their noses together back and forth

[ supportive ] sender kisses the top of receiver's head

[ fingertips ] sender places light kisses to each of receiver's fingertips

[ tongue ] sender and receiver indulge in a heavy makeout that involves tongue

[ first time ] sender leans in and kisses receiver for the first time

[ final ] sender and receiver share a kiss for the very last time, and they know it's their last

[ storm ] caught in the midst of a torrential downpour, sender can't help but close the distance and kiss receiver in the rain

[ scar ] sender sees one of receiver's scars for the first time and gently kisses it

[ desperate ] the situation is dire, and sender can't stop themselves from rushing forward and crushing receiver into an aggressive, frantic kiss

[ tend ] while tending to receiver's wounds, sender gives receiver a reassuring kiss

[ stolen ] sender and receiver cross paths and can't resist ducking into a safe place to makeout before they carry on with their day

[ irresistable ] sender taunts receiver by easing closer, promising a kiss, and then backing away, making receiver chase their lips

[ lipstick ] sender is wearing lipstick, and uses that fact to mark receiver with a few lipstick stains

[ chest ] sender removes receiver's shirt and immediately rushes forward to kiss their chest

[ shivering ] sender places small kisses all over receiver's stomach

[ fake ] sender and receiver pretend to be a couple and are forced to kiss each other to blend in

millicent returns victorious from the kiss, cheeks flushed in the throes of memory —streaming through the sky. larissa cannot blush for her, which is fine. millicent will blush enough for them both. but from the way larissa looks at her, millicent dreams up every unseen emotion crackling within. miraculous how something deceased brims with so much life. millicent retains those icy, dearly beloved hands that rest in her own and she squeezes them with the sweetness of what it felt like to press her lips against them.

light your incense.

❛ last week, ❜ she says, ❛ i told you i'd worship you eternally at the centre of my collections. ❜ because how couldn't she? ❛ i want the opportunity to do that. i want you. I WANT THE WORLD. i want… ❜ the same thing she'd been thinking about that night of the party. she looks from one gleaming eye to another. she'd kiss them, too, if she could. larissa's eyelids while she sleeps will have to do.

    Peru?

    Larissa seems to be swimming back toward the word across an ocean of fog. Peru? It means something. It's a light on the far side. To reach it, she has to come out of the wanting of Millicent, out of the aura of heat around her body, and her scent, which now that Larissa has allowed herself to breathe it in dominates every other sense. She's aching to bite her again. She wants to take Millicent's neck in her teeth and bring her down before the gods like a lion taking a gazelle in its mouth and bringing it to ground.

    "Yes," she says. She takes her hands from Millicent's so that she can cradle her face in them, fingertips tracing the sculptural slope of cheekbone to jaw, jaw to mouth. She searches her face, again and again. Eyelashes, cheeks, lips. The shape of her philtrum, which a painter would die of pleasure to remake in oils. She leans down and kisses her again. The tensions and fears of moments ago have ebbed away to nothing. She doesn't care about anything except Millicent, and it doesn't matter at all whether or not vampires sit.

    "What do you need?" She can barely give Millicent room to answer the question. She holds her face up and keeps kissing her. Let the gods and the Magdalene and every other holy thing watch. She pulls Millicent's lower lip between her own, careful, so very careful not to prick her with her fangs, not to suck to bruising. "You'll have it. I'll give it to you." She doesn't touch Millicent's clothes. She doesn't suggest that they lie down in front of the altar, that Millicent give her any more blood, that Millicent do anything at all--anything but tell her what she needs.

Anything for you, she thinks, as she curls her fingers around her darling’s hand ever-so gently. Resent her? How could she possibly? -

“I will always have faith in you,” Ammonia replies after a sniffle. She lets her thumb move to gently rest upon the back of Larissa’s hand - which is so very soft, and her scent is so wonderfully close - a lotion, perhaps?

Is Larissa telling Ammonia that she feels some semblance of the same way? The younger woman already knows that she cares for her, beyond what their relationship was when she was her student (and perhaps even then) - but is there actual hope that Larissa perhaps loves her even an ounce as much as she adores her sweet honeybee?

It seems that - no, Larissa said herself that she’s willing to try. And she’s done so beautifully, trying to express how she’s been feeling, even how she was thinking before Ammonia graduated, how she’s doing both now after last night, and everything Ammonia has said. Dilated eyes never leave their connected hands.

    Is Larissa supposed to respond in kind? She thinks of herself at eighteen, at twenty, even at twenty-five, with her head full of fantasies about love and how it would find her: that she would say the right thing, make the right movement, and wear the right dress, and love would be there for her, as if summoned by ritual magic. Is that what Ammonia thinks is going to happen?

    Larissa wishes she were the right person for her. She thinks that's what it all comes to. Ammonia arrived thirty years too late, when the person she should have met was Larissa at her own age, a girl who would have been transfixed and overwhelmed and eager to be wooed and seen and loved. Now Larissa is too burdened--all that baggage, as a character in a romantic comedy might call it.

    I am not your honeybee. She's not sure Ammonia fully understood her. She isn't convinced Ammonia will understand until something happens that, at last, proves it. That Larissa is not her dream lover, a beautiful idea, an image. Just a woman more than twice her age with a bad back, bad knees, and--she will admit, only to herself, and not without some bitterness--some sort of undiagnosed anxiety disorder, which will turn every moment like this into a minefield.

    "I care for you very much," she says at last. She hopes it's enough. That it's alright. "I'm going to take my hand back now, Ammonia. It's very..." Distracting. She is acutely aware of every inch of contact; it's impossible to ignore. Not unpleasant, nor painful, only intense. The therapist she saw for three sessions in 1999 had said something to her about setting boundaries and communicating limitations. "Thank you."