driofaire

[driofaire]

whos to say we aren't allowe blade-style blood raves in vtm... who

[driofaire]

adding to muse testing: john mitchell, being human.

[driofaire]

PROMPTS FOR THE ROMANCE OF BANTER, PLAYFUL SARCASM, AND USING JOKES TO HIDE HOW YOU REALLY FEEL ABOUT THEM *  assorted dialogue, some of which have some implied sarcasm built in (so just feel free to specify with "/s" at the end of each line), adjust as necessary

admit it. you're in love with me.

if only i had someone to go out with...

a date would be really nice right about now.

i might reconsider if you bring me flowers.

were you being serious back there?

did you just try to impress me?

was that another joke, or were you telling the truth?

we agreed that if no one asked us, we'd go together.

keep telling yourself that!

here it comes! the big love confession i've been waiting for!

you've been in love with me since the day we met.

you visited me in my dreams last night.

i know you're in love with me. you just won't say it outloud.

we can't hide this forever.

don't make me beg.

if you weren't so cute, you'd be annoying.

you're not very good at hiding how you feel.

you've been staring at me for a long time now.

is that what you really think of me?

you have feelings for me. admit it.

so what if i've been lying this whole time? for good reason!

you don't make this whole love thing any easier.

you make life difficult.

you're a piece of work.

is that how you really feel?

you're lucky you're so cute.

you're not really going out with them, are you?

i thought we... nevermind.

consider me impressed.

am i annoying you right now?

you didn't like that comment, huh.

i was only kidding!

you wish we were kissing right now.

oh, you'd just love to hear me beg.

i love our little back and forth.

sooner or later we'll have to come clean about how we feel.

i'm not good at hiding my emotions.

when were you going to tell me you were in love with me?

i actually hate your guts.

keep talking like that and you'll see how i really feel.

can your head get any bigger?

was that a joke?

were you just playing with me?

you didn't actually mean that, right?

hang on. you didn't just say that.

that was a joke, right?

this is just how we are when we're together.

i tease you, you tease me.

you and i have always been like this.

if i'm not annoying you, what's the point?

i'm allergic to tickling.

they said we'd make a cute couple. can you believe that?

are you always this annoying?

if i kiss you, will you turn into a prince? yes, i'm implying you're a frog.

you're lucky i love you so much.

you take that back!

that was uncalled for!

this means war!

this calls for a duel!

i'm challenging you to an arm wrestle.

last one there is a rotten egg!

i'm not racing you!

stop looking at me like that.

you stare at me a lot.

i know, i know. i'm irresistable.

something on my face?

a little bird told me you're in love with me.

prove me wrong.

[driofaire]

This is stupid. The thought struck him quite suddenly. Decades had passed, and while Minthara had never left his mind, it was selfish to hope that he had not left hers. Not the memories of what they shared together; of their daughter, now on the cusp of adulthood. Minthara had never been given the opportunity to see how she was shaped: into an almost picture-perfect copy of her mother, with a nose and mouth borrowed from his own face. Shi'ndra knew she would've been happy for her, and once she had taken the mantle of the head of the Baenre family, he knew that his usefulness had run its course. Maydril was more than capable of handling herself, and he had been able to leave.

But not without a heavy heart.

"Then point me towards the things I will need," he replied, and moved to shrug his pack from his shoulder. He placed it as tidily as he could beside the front door, just in case. He knew a thing or two about overstaying his welcome, and just how quickly one would need to make an exit. This was not his home, but hers. It held the structure of a life crafted without him, and though it ached for him to think about, it was simple enough to find his way around. Minthara, in many ways, was a creature of habit. Servitude felt easy to fall into. Comfortable, familiar; though he went through the motions of it with a thudding heart, as though she would retract her invitation into her home in a matter of seconds.

He did not need much pointing as he moved to lift a heavy pot from atop one of the cupboards, then for a bucket of fresh water left beside the sink. Shi'ndra could not imagine Minthara being the sort to part with parts of herself willingly, and as he listened and busied himself in this unfamiliar kitchen, he began to run through the possibilities of what might've led her to it.

"I understand," came his reply after a small beat of silence. "Not, intimately as I might've known your thoughts and feelings before, but I knew there was a reason you had not returned, though others had given up on the idea that you would return. Our daughter now sits in your seat, and she has grown into a true Matriarch. I would even say she is the second coming of you, if that is not too impolite to say." He shot her a smile, proud, but tinged with a shyness that felt unfamiliar. "You would be proud of her."

Left on the chance there might be room for me in your life again. The phrase still lingered on her while she guides him into the cooking area. Largely unused due to her own inability to make anything of intricate value, Minthara herself was still accustomed to the simple ash and bile that corrupted her food ages ago upon arriving to the Hells, when she had gone for as long as she could before forcing herself to eat. So with that sentiment, she still did not need much when it came to sustenance. Well, of the more refined tasteful sort. Today she had tea, bread, cheese, sausage, and some fruit for later. The Paladin, now part Barbarian, did not need more, but she wished for it for him.

"I have honey." She confirms with the move past the counter, unsure how to take to the offer of tea from her new esteemed guest. There was a part of her that was unexpectedly touched with the deduction that he seemed to remember how she liked her drink. Whatever their history had been from her life before, she could see in him that he cared, and cared still seeing as how he was here with her and not back in Menzobarranzan. "You will have to forgive my lack of.. certain necessities. It has been a some time since I last had.." She searches briefly for the word, "... guests."

Minthara pulls the pot down from where it hung and then gives a brief gesture toward it while she turns and prods at the flame. "..I suppose, by all means." She speaks and turns toward this Shi'ndra again, this time with intrigue set plainly upon her face. Then she inhales and decides promptly not to dance around the subject. "Tell me more." She asks, taking a seat at her own table - well more of a statement than a question, but between the way he watched her and the way she instantly felt at ease with his presence alone. She was more than intrigued.

"I... Lost part of myself, some time ago." She begins, and it feels like a confession the second her mouth opens. But if he truly was the Patron to her home, and father of her lost daughter, he deserved answers. "First my mind and then of my body. And before I was allowed to return to myself, I had lost my memories too." Her eyes that had been darting left and right now finally lift to his, hoping that this was a good.. start. Gods, she was never good with words.

[driofaire]

When people spoke of things that went bump in the night, Charlie had always assumed that those words were nothing but ghost stories. The sorts told in tents in backyard sleepovers, with flashlights held under the chin to create ghastly and spooky shadows over perfectly ordinary faces. That was how it worked on TV, anyway. Not that she'd had much time for things like that when she was younger. After a brief whirlwind affair, and the subsequent beheading of the first guy who'd properly caught her attention and the discovery of fucking vampires -- no, kindred. Smiling Jack had cackled that heavy-smoker laugh and corrected her when she'd called them that. Fuck.

She'd wanted a cigarette so bad, but as shaking hands had moved to light it... There was no hit at the back of her throat, none of that light-headed floaty-ness that came with the first smoke of the day. No, she'd found that fix in the vodka-soaked, unwashed throat of some poor bum minding his business and trying to find a shady corner to do his business. She could still taste the sweat, and remember that initial high as his blood had pooled into her mouth.

That, she discovered quickly, was far better than any high she'd ever had. Funny, that, how the thing inside of her had purred like a cat who'd been scratched juuust right. Charlie hadn't expected to find another one like her this quickly. Not without the guiding point of a finger and a 'get the fuck out and do this for me' to lead her to them. Anything to avoid the Ocean House Hotel, that stood abandoned like a tombstone of something that once had been.

This fucker looked just as out of place as she did. When she caught his eye, Charlie made her way over. A little less clumsily that she might've in life, but she moved to settle in the stool beside him.

"Hey. Don't suppose you'd know a thing or two about ghosts, would you?"

@bloedbeest, liked for a small starter.

[driofaire]

smol starter call for charlie. in the meantime, I will go and have a nap cause i'm a lil sleepy.

[driofaire]

Sophie Fucking Thatcher

The Washington Post, 2025

[driofaire]

UNCOMMON SOULMATE AU PROMPTS. note: most of these were taken from this list.

writing on your arm that tells you what your soulmate is most passionate about

you have a meter on your skin of how dangerous your soulmate is.

you get a temporary imprint of color wherever your soulmate touches you.

the most important thing your soulmate will say to you is written somewhere on you.

you share your knowledge with your soulmate.

your heartbeat is morse code for your soulmate’s name.

you meet your soulmate in dreams every night, but forget everything when you wake up until you meet them.

you have to say your soulmate’s full name to figure out they’re your soulmate.

if anyone except for your soulmate says your name, you die.

when you meet your soulmate, time stops for a month for everyone except you two.

when you meet your soulmate for the first time, you experience their entire life up to this point in what feels like real time but is actually seconds.

if you pass by your soulmate but don’t meet them, the day you passed them will repeat over and over until you finally find them.

you have memories of your soulmate in their past life.

when you meet your soulmate, you experience one of their past lives.

you are born knowing your soulmate’s future biggest secret.

you own an animal that possesses the same general personality as your soulmate.

when you lose things, they turn up in places your soulmate will find them.

every scar your soulmate has appears on your body as a splotch of color.

you have a poem that describes your soulmate.

you have wings, but are unable to fly until you meet your soulmate.

[driofaire]

MAY THE BRIDGES I BURN LIGHT THE WAY.

Please note: I am still learning a lot of the lore surrounding the World of Darkness, and any info here can/will be subject to change as I learn more.

Name: Charlotte Murray. Nicknames: Charlie. Age: 26. Sexuality: Undecided. Clan: Brujah. Faceclaim: Sophie Thatcher. Height: 5'6'. Build: Ectomorph. Always a little on the scrawny side, despite the overconsumption of everything that's a little bad for her. Mostly straight up and down, with very little muscle definition. Hair: Bleached blonde. A bottle job, often with the shadow of dark roots as she seems to always be on the wrong end of dye day. Hand-cut by herself. Family: Tilly Murray, mother. Unknown father. Stephen Murray, half-brother. Gregory Murray, half-brother. Peter Murray, half-brother. Frankie Murray, half-sister. Connections: tba.

Charlie was born and raised in the heart of Bakersfield, California, an industrial hell lined with warehouses and rundown buildings where most claimed their dreams died young. Her mother worked double shifts at a local diner, catching naps between rushes and barely managed to scrape together just enough to keep the five of them fed. There might’ve been a father figure once or twice, but just as quickly as they arrived, they were gone again. Charlie learned not to ask questions pretty quickly, but to turn on the half-broken television for some background noise that wasn’t the screaming of her siblings.

Being the oldest of five, Charlie grew up fast. When Tilly was sleeping off a too-long day, and the others were screaming at two in the morning, she learned how to warm bottles, change nappies and fix up peanut butter and jelly sandwiches that shortly upgraded to cheap packets of ramen, and how to pay bills, though making money was far beyond her means until Stephen was old enough to take up the mantle of babysitter. Then she joined her mother right into that shitty job.

Struggling to make ends meet has a way of making a girl bitter, and by the time she hit the throes of her teen years, she was boiling inside. Music became something of a pressure valve. Loud, angry, distorted music smothered the frustration, just a little bit. A second-hand Walkman became a part of her, when she wasn’t asking people in the diner if they wanted fries with that, or trying to get the others to eat their vegetables (a luxury, nowadays) she was listening to music. Charlie dropped out of school at 16. She never stood a chance, really. There wasn’t time to work on the many, many assignments of unimportant shit that had been assigned to her – and none of it held her interest anyway.

She hadn’t been in months, and preferred to spend her own evenings sneaking out of her apartment to wander into underground shows, basement moshpits and all-night benders. There was a sense of family she found in the friends she made there. No one cared where she came from, but how she carried herself and for the first time, Charlie felt like she belonged. She didn’t need big plans to go off to one of those ivy league colleges to be truly successful. Didn’t need to be rolling in cash to stand a chance. Just a few bucks here and there for something home-brewed in someone’s basement, or a baggy of weed to get through the day. The first time she got up on stage was the beginning of something even she couldn’t fully understand.

Charlie didn’t mind being numb, sometimes. It beat the feeling of frustration that came along with everything else in life. Sometimes she sold, others she smoked, more often than not, she vanished into the underbelly of the city without a note or a call to let them know she was okay. She always sent money home. Twenty bucks, here and there. Something to keep the lights on. Tilly never asked where it came from, and Charlie never told her. That worked just fine.

to be continued.

[driofaire]

charlie murray, tag dump.

[driofaire]

me: i love having original characters also me, trying to write down as much info as I can into a character sheet:

[driofaire]

small character sneak peek >:)

[driofaire]

@lookathooves asked: Antoinetta Marie for your draw request. I think she would look so cute in your style. 💙

the Night Mother’s youngest daughter

[driofaire]

hottest thing a guy can be is a simp. just. a loser. a spineless fool. a total wet wipe of a man.

[driofaire]

10 THINGS I HATE ABOUT YOU 1999 — dir. Gil Junger

[driofaire]

Q: race change

It's hard to be an Alfiq outside of Elsweyr.

Let's admit that we would all do the same

tagging @lucien-lachance @ulanxxxs @chennnington @fruk-choosing-a-username

[driofaire]

There was something warming about loving and being loved in return, and being able to do so freely. The realisation that he would have a hand in his own fate, and the choice to love her as much as he would like had been a stunning one. Not entirely damning, but without the need to hide just how much lest it be wrenched from his hands. He had lost someone he had loved before, and had found himself devastated that she would never know how much it truly was. Shi'ndra would not make this mistake with Wren, as dangerous as she was beautiful. Smart, vibrant, quick-witted. It was impossible not to feel completely and utterly besotted with her.

Even after the whole Alfira malarkey, though most might've balked at the need to cover up a spot of murder in the dead of night. He had done it gladly, and would again if she required it of him. Wren could ask him to do anything and he would obey because if he was anything, he was a good husband. Wren could ask him to spill his guts across the dirt at their feet and he would. Sink his fingers into flesh and fat and give her everything she wanted. The thought sent a small chill up the line of his spine, harrowing yet familiar.

It was right as he moved to try to deepen that kiss with a small slip of tongue that she pulled away. He almost chased her mouth with his own before he also drew back, and sat a little too upright to be comfortable. Ice settled in the pit of his stomach, and was quickly chased by rapid flashes of embarrassment, awkwardness, and, though he would never admit it, a touch of hurt. He had overstepped, he thought, and he watched her from a long moment. "You are safe with me," he said. There was a small pause. It was not herself that Wren was worried about. For a moment, he searched over her face. Drow eyes did wonders for picking out the subtleties in the night, and he could read the worry and panic in her expression. As she leaned back in for another kiss, he murmured into her mouth, "I do not fear anything that you could do to me, for I welcome it gladly."

Shin'dra drew his head back and offered as smile, soft as spidersilk and eyes fond. "If you want me, then I am yours. From now, right up until the very small possibility that you change your mind."

He would make a formidable companion, so she argued with her own mind, with the voice in her head telling her she was getting distracted by something BENEATH her — that the only excitement she had need of would be found in death, death as a spectacle, death in droves and that she was destined to bring such horrors down upon the world by herself. Any helping hand would be an INSULT to her talent. But if that was true, then why did she find herself drawn to him anyway? And besides, was she not allowed a bit of fun? This is more than fun, though, is it not?

She was faintly aware of the redness that had crept across her cheeks, the way her heart raced as he leaned in to kiss her. A childish nervousness had struck her. Surely she had kissed someone before, parts of this felt familiar enough. But despite the pang of embarrassment somewhere in the back of her mind, the emotion that dominated her in this very moment, that made her pull him closer as their lips met a second time as EXCITEMENT. Not many things had managed to stir her heart with anything other than dread or a sick enjoyment mixed in with shame. This, whatever it was, between them however ... whatever doubt she had had about it had been banished by his touch.

She wanted, needed more. She wanted to dig her fingers into his skin, hear her name on his lips like the sweetest prayer. She wanted to taste his blood, to run her tongue over his skin and sink her teeth in and — with a sudden sense of alarm, she leaned backwards, breath going quicker than the few shared kisses between them would warrant. " I'm sorry, I — for a moment I thought ... I don't know what I thought. It does not matter. " But it does and it will ruin you both if you keep this up. As if to spite the voice inside her head and as if to silence any questions he might have had at her sudden hesitation, she kissed him again, forcing herself to think of nothing but the warmth that filled her at his touch, how much they both wanted this and so much more. This evening belonged to HER, she would not share it with the Urge. " I mean it when I say I want you. " Words spoken with a heaviness she hoped would make him hear the silent plea hidden beneath. Please, do not doubt me, it isn't me trying to keep us apart.