#( &&. — interactions. )

[demirxaslan]

Demir stood there for a beat longer than he meant to, watching her and the twins disappear slowly into the soft spill of streetlights. Her words sat with him—light on the surface, but they landed deep. He looked down at the card she’d handed him, fingers brushing the handwritten number on the back. It felt more like a promise than an invitation. He caught up with her before she could turn the next corner, falling into step beside the squeaky stroller like it was second nature now. “You’re offering tea, and juice boxes? How’s a guy supposed to resist that level of hospitality?” he teased, flashing her a crooked grin. “Tell Jack I come in peace. But if he calls me a donkey or something, I will learn Russian just to argue back.” There was a pause before he added, more casually than he felt, “Also… you might be seeing more of me at Grudge Box. Cedric’s bringing me on to help run things. Day-to-day ops, scheduling, keeping people from killing each other in the locker room—you know, the usual circus.” He glanced over at her. “So I guess we’re coworkers now. Which means I’ll be around. More than just the odd grocery run.”

The idea of showing up like that—for something that didn’t involve grease under his nails or engines in pieces—was strange. Good, but strange. But with Sasha, it felt natural. Comfortable in a way most things never did. He wasn’t used to that kind of ease. “And hey,” he said, his voice softer now, laced with something more sincere. “I meant what I said earlier. You remind me of family. Little sister I never knew I needed—tough as hell, terrifying when provoked, full of chaos and heart.” He nudged her gently with his elbow. “So yeah, I’ll call. You’re stuck with me now. That’s how family works.” As they walked a few more steps in easy silence, Demir glanced down at the twins—Yelena out cold, Ilya still gnawing like he was in negotiations with the cereal box. A quiet smile crept over Demir’s face. He didn’t say anything else as they neared her particular building—just lifted a hand in farewell, a small wave that meant more than it looked. And with that, he disappeared into the night—lighter than when he arrived.

FIN.

⸻ Sasha was no stranger to violence—had grown up surrounded by it, shaped by it. The rot, the ugliness, the brutality of the world had found her early, long before it should’ve. But it all hid behind the angelic face she carried like armor—delicate features that fooled people into thinking she was untouched by hardship. Who would guess? That disconnect was part of why, sometimes, she didn’t know how to react. Why guilt crept in when she struggled to express emotions the way others did. Normal, whatever that meant, always felt just out of reach. Still, whatever she felt toward Demir—those good, inexplicable things blooming quietly beneath the surface—wasn’t something she wanted to run from. Not anymore. She hadn’t figured it out yet, not exactly, but it felt familiar. Like déjà vu in the bones. Like maybe, just maybe, she’d known him in another life. Or was supposed to, anyway.

❛ Do not underestimate the power of weaponized cereal boxes and parrot insults. ❜ She said, voice laced with soft amusement. Her gaze met his—steady and unflinching, stormy grey-blue eyes catching just enough of the streetlight to gleam. Her dimples showed faintly as she smiled, a rare and open thing. ❛ Call me. ❜ She added, tone more casual now but no less sincere. ❛ If you’re ever free from work. If your girl lets you out to spend some quality time with us. ❜ She handed him a small card—professional, but handwritten on the back was her personal number. A quiet invitation, unspoken hopes folded into ink. Her mention of his girl wasn’t biting, just lightly teasing. She referred to his lovely Esra ( his car ) . ❛ I’ll be busy this weekend. ❜ She went on, walking alongside him again as she adjusted the stroller’s handle. ❛ Match night. I’m the ring girl at Grudge Box. Also moonlighting as a casino hostess.❜ A pause. Then, with a small, crooked grin: ❛ And if you ever need a doctor… I am one. Questionably licensed. But I have references. ❜ She was joking, sort of—but not about helping. She helped whenever and however she could, with or without the validation of paperwork. Although she is, in fact, a real doctor, just on maternity leave. Her gaze shifted toward the stroller, her eyes softening at the sight of her twins dozing peacefully, lulled by motion and evening air. Her voice dropped a little, more to herself than anyone else: ❛ They’ve had enough chaos for one day. ❜

Then, back to Demir, her tone lightening again—subtle humor wrapped around sincerity. ❛ You’re welcome to swing by. It’s not fancy, but there’s always tea. Or juice boxes. And Jack might only insult you once per visit if he’s in a good mood. ❜ She turned the corner toward home, the street quieter now, lights casting long shadows as dusk deepened. But before she got too far, she looked over her shoulder and added, more softly this time: ❛ And Demir? …Thanks. For showing up. ❜ She didn’t wait for a response. Just kept walking—dimples still showing, her steps lighter than before. And for the first time in a long while, it felt like the end of a day that hadn’t taken more than it gave.

[salemisha]

( 👜 🎻 ♟ ) for the ask game bb !!

daydreams of old valyria.

👜: what's your house look like? Do you have any roommates or people who live with you? What's your favorite aspect of your house and why?

the main mirdaryon estate was set high on a mountain within the inner circle, directly below or next to the original 14 founding dragonlord houses of valyria. they were ancient houses, a house that stood the test of time. it was high touching the clouds with many chambers and rooms for magick and psionic rites, gardens, pools, temples, libraries, entertainment rooms, etc. as well as for dragon perches unlike with later targaryens what with their westerosi influence. it's big as hell. who lives there servants dragonkeepers, my family, some extended family, etc. below are the vibes of my crib.

🎻: what is a fun scenario you have scripted and you excited for? (be detailed! :)

i don't really script scenarios outside of general, simply jotting down facts about my dr that randomly come to me as if i'm possessed by some seer. but one thing i am looking forward to is using my magick for the first time, seeing my dragon and listening to high valyrian for the first time. and the outfits like its gonna be so tea. i am so excited to belong and just restart my life (because yes i want to start live my life from the beginning) in a world i truly want to be in.

♟: who's in your friend group and how did you make this friend group?

i dont really have friends. im not lonely, but i am sacred. i would say siblings but that doesn't really count though. im friendly with my handmaidens though, and the ocassional highborn daughter who comes to visit due to our moms being friends. but yeah.

[fangirlfuel]

I love drivers with kids interactions (like I love they’re reactions to drivers, it’s so cute 🥹🫶🏻)

----

[myonlyangel13]

Whattttt😭😭😭 100k interactions in less than a week??? Insane I love you so much thanks💋💋💋💋💋

[demirxaslan]

Demir rested his forearms on the edge of the table, fingers idly brushing the condensation off his water glass as Anais spoke. The low amber glow of the overhead sconces made everything feel a little softer—dangerously so. Between the flicker of candlelight and the way she kept folding honesty into her jokes, he could feel himself slipping into something that felt more like confession than conversation. “‘Cataloging everyone’s moves for future reference,’” he repeated with a grin. “That’s practically foreplay in some circles. Watching the room, playing the long game—I’d be offended if you weren’t doing that. Adds to your charm. Keeps me on my toes.” He didn’t break eye contact even when the server appeared again, smoothly giving his order in a low, confident voice—tagliatelle al tartufo—because if they were doing this whole first-date illusion, he might as well lean in. Once their menus disappeared and the waiter was gone, he tilted his head slightly, watching her reclaim her posture like she hadn’t just peeled a layer back and let him see underneath.

“Survival instinct wrapped in a decent blazer?” he echoed, brows arching just a little. “Come on, Anais. You wear control like it’s tailored. If that’s survival, then I’ve been mistaking battle armor for elegance.” His grin softened at the edges. “But hey, I get it. Sometimes pretending is easier than explaining. You convince yourself that as long as no one notices the cracks, you’re still holding it together. Problem is… someone eventually does.” He paused, voice dipping. “And sometimes, they don’t leave.” He noticed the way she scanned the menu without reading it, her smile doing that almost-shy thing it did when she was being more real than she wanted to be. The warmth between them stretched a little wider with every truth exchanged.

“We put so much effort into seeming normal, and then someone sees the cracks and calls them character,” he said, a little slower now, more deliberate. “You think it’s twisted, but I think it’s kind of magic. The kind of magic that only works when nobody’s pretending.” Then the teasing spark returned to his eyes. “And as far as dating profiles go? Yours is definitely in the top tier. Spreadsheets, daddy issues, financial audits—I mean, I might just propose over panna cotta. How does ‘emotionally reckless but fixable’ sound for mine?” There was a part of Demir that wanted to ask about the daddy issues she'd mentioned, but he didn't want to ruin the easy vibe between them on this first official date, especially when he had high hopes for the second one.

He leaned in slightly, voice lowered, like the rest of the restaurant didn’t exist. “But if we're serious, I might make some changes to my profile, you ready?" He paused for dramatic effect before speaking again. "Recovering charmer seeks dangerously intelligent woman with a flair for risk and a fondness for red wine. Must be willing to share tiramisu and the parts of herself she thinks no one can handle.'" He sat back, smile still playing at the corner of his mouth—but there was something real behind it now, something that didn’t try to hide. “And Anais? For what it’s worth... I'm not scared off by pretty much anything anymore. I'm just wondering how I got lucky enough to be here watching you unfold.”

"Yes. And the worst part is acting like you're not doing it while simultaneously cataloging everyone else's moves for future reference."

The server appeared at their table with perfect timing, like they'd been hovering just out of sight waiting for a lull in conversation. "Good evening, have you had a chance to look over the menu? Can I start you with any appetizers or would you like to order your entrees?"

"I think we're ready," Anais said, glancing at Demir. "I'll have the mushroom risotto, and..." She gestured for him to order. After they'd both ordered and the server disappeared with their menus, Anais settled back in her chair. This whole thing was spiraling way past reconnaissance territory. She was supposed to be mining information about Izel, figuring out weak spots she could exploit later. Instead she was sitting here relating to his damage like it matched her own. "Polished," she said, shaking her head. "Trust me, half the time I'm just hoping nobody notices I'm winging it. All that composure you're seeing? Pure survival instinct wrapped in a decent blazer." The honesty slipped out easier than it should have. She wasn't supposed to be giving him real pieces of herself to work with.

His comment about skipping straight to emotional dessert made something warm settle in her chest that had nothing to do with strategy. This was dangerous territory - the kind where she started forgetting why she'd called him in the first place. The Solis family had destroyed her father without a second thought, but here was their princess's ex making vulnerability sound like humor instead of weakness. "You know what's really twisted?" she continued, scanning the tiramisu description without actually reading it. "We spend all this energy pretending to be normal, and then when someone calls us on it, we're shocked they want to stick around anyway." She looked up at him, caught off guard by how easily he'd shifted from flirting to something real. "And honestly? This not being pretend thing works for me too. Even if we're both probably more damaged than we're letting on." The admission hung between them for a second before she forced herself back to safer ground. "As for my dating profile disasters, I'm thinking 'Enjoys spreadsheets, has daddy issues, may audit your personal finances for fun.' Real winner, right?" She grinned, trying to keep it light even though talking about her father always made her chest tight. "What about you? 'Recovering charmer seeks someone who won't run when emotions get complicated'?"

[valeria-flint]

Open Starter

Turning thirty had not been necessary to Val. It was another day older. Another day that her father was complaining about the fact that she wasn't married yet. Which only grew more and more with her number of age as well.

Another thing that had not been necessary to her, was the fact that her mother believed that thirty was an important age and that at least a small gathering was necessary. So 20 people from the Pureblood community had been invited over for hr birthday and Val was ready to disappear into thin air.

She had finally found a place to lay low, a bottle of firewhiskey in her hand to make the party a bit more bearable when someone found her hiding place. "If you're here because my mother send you, please tell her that you haven't seen me, okay."

[asksprunkiestvineria]

...so you don't know me, but Simon's asked me to ask you to meet him for a dinner.

@grillintimesforall

( Also, @asksprunkiestsimon )

10 thousand years later, and here I am. I was originally intending to make a full on drawing, but I got caught on other asks that I needed to do before this one. I guess have a non-drawn answer?? Vineria didn't even bother to open the door, she didn't want to terrify the anon by her miserable appearance, and so she answered from behind the door. "A.. dinner, huh..? mm.. I.. guess I could come.. do you happened to know why he invited me to one?"

[404daydreams]

"Your eyes meets mine, intense and we can't stop it and it reminds me of a song. You're beautiful, it's true by James Blunt. You got eyes like mine. Full of intensity. "

-Me.

[kittyridley]

ASPEN  HAD  A  HABIT  OF  PARROTING  KITTY'S  WORDS  BACK  AT  HER.  a  normal  person  would  probably  find  this  grating,  but  kitty  only  felt  an  odd  sense  of  appreciation  towards  her  friend  —  there  was  something  deeply  satisfying  about  having  someone  echo  her  thoughts  so  perfectly.  “  right?  like,  hello,  we're  literally  doing  them  a  favor  by  gracing  this  place  with  our  presence.  i  mean,  i  could  be  literally  anywhere  else  on  a  saturday  night,  but  here  i  am  at  some  tragic  church  potluck  because  mom  insisted  it  would  be  'good  for  community  relations'  or  whatever.  ” she  paused,  catching  her  reflection  in  the  black  screen  of  her  phone  and  automatically  checking  her  lip  gloss.  “  and  all  the  time  i  spent  getting  ready  this  afternoon  —  two  hours  on  my  hair  alone,  not  to  mention  picking  the  perfect  outfit  —  and  not  a  single  person  has  bothered  to  tell  me  how  nice  i  look.  they  just  keep  staring  at  me  like  i  sprouted  a  second  head.  ”  kitty's  voice  dropped  to  a  conspiratorial  whisper,  leaning  closer  to  aspen.  “  if  you  ask  me,  everyone  should  be  way  more  concerned  about  those  weird  new  people  who  showed  up.  like,  what  are  they  even  doing  here?  this  place  isn't  exactly  hot  real  estate,  and  they  have  this  whole  …  creepy  vibe  about  them.  something's  definitely  off.  ”

attention   snaps   in   unison   with   that   of   kitty's   mirror,   effectively   pulling   aspen   away   from   her   phone   induced   trance.   ❝   seriously.   ❞   she   affirms,   prepared   to   echo   kitty's   exact   sentiments.   ❝   feels   like   everyone   goes   quiet   when   i   walk   up   &   it's   not   in   the   fun   way.   like,   can't   you   gawk   at   us   for   the   right   reasons   ?   ❞   a   glance   back   at   her   phone   is   followed   by   a   dramatic   sigh.   ❝   and   the   reception   here   is   so   shit—   er,   crap.   ❞   (can   you   swear   in   a   church   outside   of   service?)   ❝   i   can't   find   anything.   ❞

[jay-loves-art]

Wrote something for my second story about demigods of “bad” gods (gods who were notorious for evil and wrongdoing in some way) going against “good gods” I’m not gonna say the full plot because I don’t want to but if any of my mutuals have questions abt the characters, ASK PLEASE!!

A bit of background knowledge first

Maxence is a demigod of a Celtic god, he has some kind of fairy magic which he uses to create weapons out of his architectural designs (he’s also a fashion designer, well, trying to be. All the characters are in college) He also designs the team’s battle armor.

Raphael can shapeshift into literally ANYTHING, even the opposite gender; also the ability to curse people and watch them through a mirror. Caitlyn is a demigod of a Greek god and she just has some super strength and speed

[ishikaxmehra]

closed for @labyrinthinesyndicatex (for stella)

The rooftop of the old Mirren Hotel wasn’t listed on any website, and that’s exactly why Ishika had chosen it. No crowds, no cameras—just the hum of the city below and the anonymity that came with dim lighting and late hours.

She was already there when Stella arrived, dressed in black slacks and a high-collared coat, her expression unreadable as always. A half-empty glass of something amber sat beside her untouched, more for the illusion of leisure than any real intent to drink.

"Stella," she greeted evenly, eyes tracking her over the rim of her glass. "Thanks for coming. It's been awhile...hasn't it? How've you been?" She could've jumped straight into the topic at hand but she wasn't like that. All business and no emotion. No--Ishika prided herself on being different than her brother. "So, I did call you here because I need your services...in a sense." She took a deep breath and continued, "I need someone who doesn’t flinch when things get ugly. Someone who can find truths others don’t want seen. If that’s still your specialty, I have work for you."

[amaraxgujral]

closed for @labyrinthinesyndicatex (for elisa) location: amara's office

“So—I’ve had some time to think over the projections and numbers I showed you the last time we met, and I genuinely believe that if we put our heads together, I could help you access significantly more capital to do some real good.”

Since arriving in Devil’s Junction six years ago, Amara had quietly admired Elisa and the impact she made—steadily, sincerely. For years, she’d wanted to find a way to partner with her, even behind the scenes. This felt like the right time. Her career was stable, her footing secure. Giving back, now, felt less like obligation and more like purpose.

“I need you to know that while, ordinarily, I don’t do anything without some selfish interest at heart…” Her lips curved into a wry smile. “This is different. This part of my life—I don’t want credit. I just want to support you, and the women you're helping. Do you think we could work something out?”

[rouqes]

“now you're just fuckin' lying." for as long as he's known benny, sweet wasn't at the top of his adjective list. not even top 5, except for maybe sometimes when the man would let his mile - high guard down for a split second and soren would catch it. fleeting, though it doesn't go unnoticed for how gentle he's seen the older guy with dogs, or animals, or kids. but isn't that the usual suckers type? you can't be mean to a kid unless you're a heartless, cruel person, and being mean to animals is just fucking sick and wrong. “now it just sounds like you got a crush.” he teases, chuckling. “they named a dog freakie?” he considers it, for a moment. finley would kill him dead. but he can imagine it. “that's kinda funny. i like when people name their pets animal names. like richard, or steven or something. nothin' all them suburban moms would name them. no.” no sparky or lulu or angel or princess or anything weird. funny names only, thank you.

“yeah – i dunno. i don't know much about dogs, and like, their specifics, you know? they're all so different. and the different types. if they're nice, and got four legs, and sniff their butts and look like a dog, it's a dog to me. that's why i never fuckin' bought why they called stitch a dog in the movie. he's not a dog, he walks on two legs like a person.” it's an entirely fictional story, soren. yet he still gets irrationally mad about it just because he can. and if nothing else, it is a little funny to get upset about it. “well, you see — i stole him.” he didn't, but it's not him if there's no dramatic flair. “someone didn't want him. had a box full of puppies on facebook market place. those pages where you can buy anything or whatever? yeah, he was the last one. came ‘em, got ’em, said fuck you to ‘em and ran away.” like it’s a stealth mission of some sort. “so rescue kinda. i guess in just one instance.” a snort at the thought of having an actual kid — soren hadn't meant it literally. “yeah. just one. he's two - ish. name's rodeo.”

"Shit, naw. Benny's the sweetest grumpy old man to ever exist." Beck lifted a hand, the other still continuing to pet the dog that had made itself a home by his feet. "I ain't sayin' there's anything wrong with it. If that's bein' a pervert, then we should all be so lucky. Benny is a catch." Benny was a handsome bastard. He was a little grumpy, no more so than Beck could be, but that man could charm the pants off just about anyone in a way Beck envied sometimes. "Fun coincidence, huh? They got dogs called Freakie and Quirkie too. Forget the other ones. But they're all kinda along that vibe."

Beck continued scratching behind Rodeo's ears. "Naw, different to a coon hound. My family's got a rescue that's a coon hound mix though, least we think. Shelter never knew her exact breed, but she looks like a coon hound. Cocker spaniels are more like... they chase the birds outta the bushes and then they grab 'em in their mouth when you shoot 'em. Rabbits, too, I think. I don't really hunt with dogs though, so I ain't an expert." He knew a decent amount about working dogs on account of having them, knew a decent amount about hunting, but not when you combimed the two. "Cattle dogs like to be busy, for sure. Mine lives on a property with horses but he don't herd or nothin'. What made you decide on a King Charles here? D'you rescue?" Beck's ears perked up at the mention of a kid. "Oh yeah? Son? How old is he?"

[demirxaslan]

closed for @labyrinthinesyndicatex (for nayeli ) location: alaric and arielle's home

Demir had been sitting in the armchair by the window for all of seven minutes when the unmistakable creak of the side door caught his attention. He didn’t look up right away—just keeping his gaze on his phone, reading through some random article from MotorTrend. The house was too quiet. Not peaceful, just that stretched-thin silence that made every little sound seem louder than it needed to be. When he finally glanced up, he saw her. Of course. Nayeli.

The familiar edge settled into his shoulders like a jacket he hadn’t wanted to wear in the first place. She looked the same—tight posture, eyes that saw too much, always acting like she had some unspoken moral high ground. Probably did, knowing her line of work. “Let me guess,” he said, his tone dry, not bothering to stand. “You saw the bike out front and thought I was breaking in.” He tilted his mug toward her in mock salute. “Disappointed I’m not a burglar?”

He leaned back in the chair, one leg propped over the other like he had all the time in the world. Which, unfortunately, he kind of did until Alaric finished his shift. “I’m just here waiting on my favourite person. Don’t worry, I’m not planning to rearrange the furniture or ransack the fridge.”

[rheaxsethi]

closed for @ofgrenvde ( for duke ) location: spring wine and food festival

Rhea spotted him first—impossible not to. Duke stood near one of the entrance arches, earpiece in, arms folded, the very picture of official business amid a crowd swirling with laughter, clinking glasses, and mouthwatering scents. His sharp gaze swept the festival telling her that he was casing the place instead of enjoying it. Typical. A slow, mischievous smile tugged at her lips.

She weaved through the clusters of picnic tables and tasting booths, heels clicking softly against the cobblestones, until she was right in his shadow. Close enough to make him notice, but casual enough to make it look like she'd just happened to wander over. "You know," Rhea said, tilting her head just slightly, her voice cutting through the noise like velvet, "the least you could do after popping up everywhere is buy a girl a drink."

She let the words hang between them, playful but edged with that familiar spark. Her eyes danced up to meet his, daring and amused. "I mean, fair’s fair, right?" she added, with a quick shrug. "You're already shadowing me like you're getting paid by the glance. Might as well make yourself useful." Rhea shifted her weight onto one hip, an open invitation written into her posture, like she wasn’t going anywhere until he played along. "Red or white, Duke?" she asked, voice low and lilting. "Dealer’s choice... but you're buying."