arerus - Tumblr blog

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forgive them. your heart will be lighter for it. forgive them because it gives you closure. it’s all in the past now, and they can’t hurt you there. 

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Lindsey Pruitt

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jack and rose in the boiler room

a.k.a the hottest deleted scene in titanic

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Minority Report (2002, Steven Spielberg)

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SOURCE

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3 + victory to baby george

the snow alighted on george’s face softer than the kiss just planted upon her head by her mother,    and just as cold as a forgotten memory that she can’t quite reach.    in this swirl of white,   she giggles,     and a mitten clad hand began to reach for the other’s in order to drag her to the snowman she had built prior.    she was so proud of that snowman that stood in what once was a field of green,    and she knew from her books that his time will eventually come to feed the ocean they all treasured when he finally melts.    though that thought saddened her,    she had imagined that he had grown a beating heart and the rainbow scarf she had gifted to him gave him a colourful glow and a promise of a new start...    it is a feeling that is familiar,    but her smile doesn’t fade.    she reaches out for victory’s other hand now,    too,    while her tiny feet dug into the snow covered floor as she jumps up,    trying to land a kiss on her mother’s cheek in return.    ❝    you’re so tall,    mama!    ❞    she laughs again,    but this time she rocks back on her heels    -    a horrible attempt at trying to drag her away.    ❝    -----    but not as tall as mr. snowman!    come!    ❞

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spots to kiss.   since y’all like kissing prompts—and who wouldn’t, honestly–so have a collection of places to press your lips to. many of these work perfectly fine for platonic or familiar affection while some are a bit steamier, though what counts as what is of course naturally dependent on the muses and the context. send ‘ SPOTS TO KISS + [number] ’ to kiss my muse there, or with # for dealer’s choice. context and description allowed and encouraged. feel free to use the last option  ( 57 )  to give the kiss on any fantasy or scifi body parts not listed here.

a kiss on the top of the head.

a kiss to hair.

a kiss on the forehead.

a kiss on the space between eyebrows.

a kiss on the temple.

a kiss on the cheek.

a kiss on the eyelid or the undereye.

a kiss on the nose

a kiss on the ear.

a kiss on that space where jaw connects.

a kiss on the corner of the mouth.

a kiss on the cupid’s bow.

a kiss on the lips.

a kiss on the chin.

a kiss on the jawline.

a kiss on the back of the neck.

a kiss on the underside of the jaw.

a kiss on the throat.

a kiss on the side of the neck.

a kiss on where the back of the neck turns to shoulder.

a kiss above the collarbone.

a kiss along the collarbone.

a kiss on the space between collarbones.

a kiss on the shoulder.

a kiss on the bicep.

a kiss on the forearm.

a kiss on the elbow.

a kiss on the outside of the wrist.

a kiss on the inside of the wrist.

a kiss on the back of the hand.

a kiss on the palm.

a kiss on a finger.  ( which one? )

a kiss on the side of the ribs.

a kiss on the shoulder blade.

a kiss on the space between shoulder blades.

a kiss along the curve of the spine.

a kiss on the upper back.

a kiss on the lower back.

a kiss on the sternum.

a kiss on a pec / breast.

a kiss under the breast.

a kiss on where the sternum ends.

a kiss on the stomach.

a kiss on the navel.

a kiss on the hipbone.

a kiss on the ‘v’.

a kiss on the front of the thigh.

a kiss on the back of the thigh.

a kiss on the inner thigh.

a kiss on the knee.

a kiss on the calf.

a kiss on the ankle.

a kiss on the heel.

a kiss on the foot.

a kiss on a toe.

a kiss on an nsfw body part not listed here.  ( where? )

a kiss on a sfw body part not listed here.  ( where? )

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I am the knife which will slaughter heaven. Heaven is full of blood. Soon it will snow.

Heiner Müller, Anatomy Titus Fall of Rome (1984)

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"Happy birthday, love." Victory's easy smile sketched over the top of her teacup, the First Sea Lord for once willing to subject herself to a tea party of sorts - though how much it could be called such with only two participants was a matter for another debate - for the sake of her sister. From the depths of her great coat, slung easily over the man-of-war's shoulders, a square box was produced, flat and larger than one's palm, and delicately wrapped with silver ribbons and a bow. Something briefly stung at Victory's heart, knowing what was held within, but her smile only briefly flickered, tempering down into something much more fitting for a sombre moment. She waited until Hood picked apart the ribbon and opened the box before she next spoke. "It's not the Heart, not for true, but...it's as close as I could have it made." A breath, made heavy by memory and barely-scabbing sorrow; the flash of a bright smile ( are you sure you have everything? yes, i'm positive, now go on! ), the dead laid out in canvas, frozen and iced, with no bright lady amongst them. "...she would have wanted you to have it, Hood."

it had been going so well.   the tea was up to standard,   as per usual,   and the room was beautiful,   furnished with fresh,   perfumed flowers.   there was a view of the islands and the outside garden that unicorn frequented was perfection.   hood eased herself into the soft chair while her older sibling got herself comfortable.   it was a perfectly dreamy day with blue skies and tremendous company. 

                           and then victory handed her a box.

she didn’t need to open the present in its entirety to realise what it was,   come hell or high water she would recognise such a profound item even in death;   historians have fought over it,   tourists have placed their bids,    and among naval archeologists the object was valued so highly it was enough to make it holy.   she doesn’t say anything   --------   grief has surged now with every expelled breath,   the pride’s gaze was barely able to meet her predecessor’s.  all the pretence of the wonderful,   fairytale day was lost and she sank into her chair,   not caring that in her actions she had knocked her tea cup over,   staining the carpets with its contents or that she had almost made the arrangement of cakes and scones follow soon after.   tears began to spill from her eyes onto the necklace and she felt   ....   bad for it,   bad for grieving.  was she allowed to feel this way ?   how could she feel so strongly for a person who she had never met but her elder had ?   it should be the first sea lord in this position,  being gifted something that clung onto british naval sentiment,   not her.   

( it was said long ago that the owner of this necklace had considered hood a daughter before she was born,   but she never got to tell her that she loved her.   they never got to hold each other close.   hood never had the chance to look into the lady’s loving,   beautiful face that was rumoured to have brought so much happiness before she   -------- )

in that moment the sure knowledge that life can go on without a care in the world for the hurt that came with it,   that time only stopped for a mere few,   undid her completely.   ❝   she didn’t know me.   ❞   though her voice screamed despair,   her actions did not.  it was seconds between her saying that and her next breath that the jewellery had been almost immediately torn from its bindings.   this was the only time she looked up:   to hold it against the light and examine it,   remembering all of the times she had seen the real thing in photographs or commissioned drawings.  briefly,   she looks back over to her sister,   her eyes softening.  she isn’t mad,  but she isn’t happy either.   she is stuck.   she has found herself in a heady blackness;   the ways forward she had thought possible have vanished like they never there at all.   hope became meaningless,   the courtesy of appreciation flickered.   ❝   h - how can i take this ?  i can’t accept this in good faith,   i never got to know her.  i -----   no,  this should be for you,   if anyone.   please.   ❞   hood held the necklace out,  her head bowed,   a desperate,   futile attempt at hiding her tears.   she loved like a hurricane,  that was one thing she got from victory,  and the more she struggled to hold her emotion back,   the tears forced themselves out with more violence than any gale.   to be offered something like this   -----   something that no word in the english dictionary could describe was a torture to her soul.   every atom of her being screamed in unison,   traumatised that she should even dare exist and take up a mantle another held before her.   ❝   i can’t    -------   ❞  she didn’t get to finish.  she had gone from gregarious to hanging by a thread,   a transformation nobody could reverse.

                                ❝   i miss her.   how can i miss somebody i never met ?   i don’t   -----   victory,   please,   i can’t take this.   i love you,   but i can’t.   ❞

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🎁 / bellerophon (spoilers: it's a little cupcake decorated in red and gold with a candle)

following bellerophon’s appearance,   a stunning cupcake with layers of red velvet sponge and then decorated in royal red and gold icing followed suit,   resting neatly in their hands.    she was more than aware that if anyone knew how to bake a cake it was belfast;    but bellerophon was a fast learner,    their craft often resulting in the most special surprises for anybody around base.    ❝   ophon,   ❞   she’d have called them by their full name had she not been so overwhelmed with the gesture,   the kindness in her smile turning into a soft notion of gentleness.   it was not something she had expected but then again,   her guard friend was a soul-connector,   a person who could laugh with her with ease and saw the person under the royal exterior,   barring her future wife and mother.   for one who has no choice but to hold on to pain,   to live with their own torment,    wherever they went wales knew sunshine would follow.    they were her friend,   and their being here was enough.   the cupcake was just an accessory,   an edible notion to their loyalty.   ❝   thank you.    would you like to share some with me ?    i bet it’s delicious !    ❞

send 🎁 to see my muses reaction to getting a gift from your muse.

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on board those three carriers,    the americans,    like the japanese,    relied on three kinds of combat airplanes.    the workhorse american carrier bomber was the sbd douglas dauntless,    a relatively new (1940) monoplane with a crew of two:    a pilot in the front seat, almost always a commissioned officer,    and an enlisted radioman/gunner who sat behind him and was responsible for communications as well as a .30-caliber machine gun,    later increased to movable twin machine guns.    compared with the japanese val dive-bomber,    the dauntless was both bigger and sturdier,    and its pilots referred to it affectionately as “the barge.”    though the dauntless was 25 percent heavier than the val (thanks in part to its armor protection),    it nevertheless had a slightly greater range because of its more powerful engine.    it could also carry a bigger bomb load,    consisting of either one 1,000-pound bomb or a 500-pound bomb plus two 100-pound bombs under the wings.     the dauntless was marginally faster than the val,    though slower than japanese fighters.    officially,    its top speed was 217 knots (250 mph),    but it cruised at 130 knots (152 mph) and attained maximum speed only during an attack dive,     when it might reach 250 knots (288 mph).    (its pilots joked that sbd stood for “slow but deadly.”)    the dauntless also boasted two .50-caliber machine guns in the cowling,    and on occasion it was used to augment the combat air patrol (CAP).

- the battle of m*dway,   craig symonds,   p69.

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@navalwars asked: 🎁 / Hornet

it was the perfect birthday in every sense,    and in all the ways only the universe could give.    her birthday fell in spring,    holding hands with the goddess persephone as they stepped out of the cold winter months and into the sun     -----    her birthday marked the first blossom opening on the tree.    then,    she opened her curtains,     taking in the daylight and the beauty of azur lane.    there was a string of destroyers cycling along the path,   cruisers marking themselves with white paint as they decorated the new food stalls for that month and other members of the royal council telling stories to whoever would listen,    reaching places that helped.     wales wasn’t waiting for anybody,    nor did she expect anybody to arrive at her office so early but the sound of bountiful footsteps and the knock before entering garnered her attention so,     she turned,    her brow raised.     the other had that look in their eye,    caught between pride and fear of rejection as they held out a neatly wrapped gift in brown paper    -------    yorktown’s doing,    no doubt.     ❝     hornet !     did your sisters help with this ?    ❞     her smile was one of happiness growing,     coming into full bloom like a spring flower.    one could see how it came from deep within her person to light her eyes and spread into every part of her being while she addressed the carrier as she reached out to take the gift.      it was clear that she smiled with more than her mouth,    her voice was carrying her joy more than her words as she began to open it.    ❝     thank you,    hornet.    this is more than what i could ever ask for.    ❞

send 🎁 to see my muses reaction to getting a gift from your muse.