#( ; doesn't mean i will ignore anything else for the other muses )

[fortislumen-archive]

starter  call !!!!          under  the  read  more  is  a  list  of  all  the  characters  i've  been  having  lots  of  muse  for,  just  because  i  feel  bad  receiving  memes/replies  for the  others  and taking long to get back,  the  vibes  are  just extremely  low.   all  of  them  have  their  bios  linked  to  their  name  so  in  case  one  catches  your  eye,  you  can  get  some  info/read  their  verses.   if  you  want  a  starter  from  one  or  more,  just  comment  their  name  and  who  the  starter  is  for  in  case  you  are  also  a  multi!     keep  in  mind  i  MIGHT  write  all  the  options  you  give  me, because the more the better  lol.

florence - vampire oc.

victoria - agent oc.

elizabeth - witch oc.

pepper - but her agent and president verse.

emily - from criminal minds.

jane - from mr and mrs smith.

larissa - from wednesday.

lucifer - from the sandman (no bio yet so u got their wiki lol).

also remember i am always glad to throw my muses into different fandoms so don't let that hold you back either. why stick to canon when we can do what we want hm?

[darkstaria]

Yandere Batfam - Soulmate Soul Animal AU.

Chapter 1:

----

Chapter 2. Chapter 3. Chapter 4. Chapter 5.

Dark pupils watched from the ceiling, their gaze affixed upon you. You sighed, deciding to ignore its presence.

An aggravated chitter interrupted you. Pausing, you watched as a little green bird jumped out of the bat’s shadow. It paced towards you, making a small leap to land on your outstretched finger. You smiled, extending your hand to pet the top of its head. The bird took a moment to consider the moment, head tilting with its beak outstretched as if it intended to bite you. It seemed to decide on sparing your finger, allowing you to give the bird some pets on the head.

However, it was time to resume your work. You turned back to your computer, a dismissal. The bird didn't like that. A quick flash, and the bird tittered about on your keyboard, messing up your setup.

“Robin!” You snap, reaching out as if to push the bird away.

You sighed. You disliked calling the bird Robin. It was the correct species, despite the bird being green, so it made sense to use the name. But.. you hated the connection it created between your soul bonded animals and the vigilantes of the city. Unfortunately, the bird didn't answer to any other name. You've tried.

The other robins were so much more agreeable than this newer one. Well, not that you could even call those three robin anymore. The newer robin was very possessive of the name, and you'd rather not have to search your room for more stray feathers that flew off in their next fight. Your soul animals were such a pain.

The flutter of wings distracts you from your musings. You look up, finding the very bat you had been so cautiously avoiding earlier descend onto your desk. The bat chirped a little, with the robin occasionally replying back with chirps of its own. They were having their own conversation.

You decided you were owed a break already, so you gave up on your dreams of getting work done in lieu of watching the ongoing conversation. It was rare for soul animals to talk. They didn't need to. Due to the nature of a soul bond, soul animals act on the innermost feelings of the soul they represent. The bond connects souls, so soul animals, which are a manifestation of the bond, are already intune with their soulmates.

The only instance in which soul animals did tend to talk, was if the soulmates themselves were talking.

Robin chittured with a snap, the bat in return giving a controlled chirr.

Oooh. You thought to yourself. This sounds like an argument. You wondered what it was about. Maybe Robin pecked one too many victims, or caused a mess again.

Ah. You were thinking of your bonded as just animals again. To be fair, it was fairly easy. The only things you knew of your soulmates were because of how the animals acted. Anything else, and you were in the dark. That's how you wanted to think, anyway.

Maybe while they were distracted… You scoot back a little in your chair, until you figure you’re out of their line of sight. You make for the door, tipping out of your seat as quietly as you can. You're almost out the door when a weight settles itself on your head.

You sigh.

“Robin. Get off me, please.”

Perhaps unsurprisingly, the presence doesn't budge. Obliging, you reach up to your head, feeling the bird’s little feet jump onto your hand. Bringing Robin to eye level, you stare at it, unimpressed.

A nearby bat of wings draws you out of your faceoff. Guess sneaking out on your own was too much to ask for, as always.

“Ughhh.” You whine. Your soulmates were going to push you into complete isolation at this rate.

“Fine. You two already know the drill.”

You point at the Bat. “You can never follow me, I mean it. A bat is way too ominous of a soul animal to be flying around. It's just asking for trouble.”

The Bat remains silent, watching. Always, watching. You really hated it sometimes.

In all honesty, a robin wasn't too great of a soul animal to have with you in Gotham either. But your robins came in odd colours, so people didn't always clock that the bird was actually a robin. Sometimes you said that your soul animal was a greenfinch or a swallow. It tended to work, as long as no one looked twice.

A bat was much harder to hide.

“So..”. You give up, gesturing to your bag. “Just get in already, I'll make the trip quick.” You always had to make any outings short with this particular robin. If you spent too long with someone it got snippy. Very, snippy.

The other three robins tended to be a bit more accommodating. Well, not by much.

Robin glides into your bag, a movement of precision and grace. Not for the first time, you wonder what your bonded was like in person.

Deciding to dismiss the thought, you unlatch your door, heading out.

Just another day, with your soulmates.

~ ~ ~ ~

Your parents told you about your birth. You were born to a bat watching your window. It wasn't such a red flag, at first. The maternity ward was flush with newborn babes, so your parents figured that the bat was bound to another child. It was what they had hoped for, anyway.

Plenty of children weren't born with soulbonds. It wasn't a concern. They could be the elder of a bond. Or, they could have a delayed bond. They weren't concerned.

But… then it followed you home. Your parents settled you down, snug in your crib. When they next came to check up upon you, it was there. Perched upon the crib, watching you. When they next blinked, it was gone.

The very next day, your parents awoke to the Bat watching you again. But this time, a smaller bird was snuggled to your sleeping face. It clung to you all day, refusing to disappear when they appeared like the Bat did. It was… very mouthy.

They had assumed this to be a good development, everyone knew The Night worked alone. They were happy.

They were happy, even when another robin appeared the subsequent day. A scruffy one, snappy. Its feathers were still growing out. Young.

Perhaps they should have expected then, that the dawn the next new day would bring another little bird to your crib. The youngest one, a nestling still developing pin feathers. Despite its age, it held a keen gaze at them.

There weren't any more animals that appeared after that. So they hid any evidence of the Bat, and instead allowed you to grow up freely with your three birds.

The Bat was evidently the oldest in your soulbond. It was protective, almost parental, in its movements. It had a sixth sense for when you were in any danger, always emerging from the shadows with perfect timing. If a bat wasn't such a symbolic image in Gotham, you'd probably be more appreciative of its efforts.

The eldest bird was silly, performing aerial tricks and jumps that always brightened your day. It was keen, focusing on you whenever you felt down. It had the uncanny ability to appear whenever you were under the weather. When you said the word robin, it snapped to attention.

You decided to call it Robin.

The second bird was protective. It wasn't as loud as the eldest, but there was a spark of kindness in its gaze. Originally the bird was a lot rougher, but it started to calm down a few years in. Became stable. It always seemed to find you when you got stuck on homework, or landed on your shoulder whenever you flipped through a book.

The third bird was small. You assumed it was only a year or two older than you, due to how the bird’s feathers grew in. It wasn't as affectionate as the other two. Solitary, it often lingered in the shade. It watched you. It watched your other soul animals too, when they appeared. It seemed a little tired. It took you a bit, but eventually you realised it was lonely. After that, you always had a comforting word.

That is… until the Batman gained a partner. A boy decked out in green and yellow, the same feathers on your eldest bird. The vigilante called itself Robin.

As the duo gained notoriety, you were hidden more and more. There was danger in soulbonds, and nothing was more dangerous than vigilantes.

Robin became Nightwing. Your eldest bird grew in blue feathers. The bird stopped responding to its name. A new boy became Robin. You spotted green and yellow feathers growing in on your second bird. It started answering to Robin.

You knew who your soulmates were. After that, it was no secret. Not to you, not to your parents.

Your parents weren't happy anymore. But you were safe. They could be content with that. They considered reaching out. The evidence was obvious, they knew it, and you knew it. Maybe you could be even safer, if the Batman knew where you were.

And then you watched your Robin die.

The little bird had been stuck to you recently, seeming to be in an argument with the Bat. When in conflict, soul animals gravitated to those they weren't in disparity with, and this was nothing unfamiliar to you.

You had been stroking the little bird, as it rested on your lap. But then it jumped. It started shaking. It started crying. Bleeding.

You panicked. You tried to comfort it, to whisper caring words, to give a reassuring touch. You were young, you didn't know what to do. There was nothing you could do.

When a soulmate dies, the soul animal dies too.

The little Robin died, crying in your lap.

You had never looked at vigilantes the same way again.

There was no point in denial, not after that. Your bat became the Bat, the eldest robin named Wing. A few days later, your youngest soul animal developed new feathers. Green… and red. You didn't have a name for the bird, but you suspected you would soon.

You took a week off school.

~ ~ ~ ~

“Please be quiet, this time.” You muttered down to the green bird resting in your bag. It started at you with a condescending gaze. Ugh. Younger soulmates.

You'd sigh, but you've been doing that far too much lately as is.

Time to get this over with.

You enter the supermarket, one of your very few weekly outings. You start perusing the shelves, picking out what was in your list. As you're walking though, you hear a frustrated bark. You peak out from the shelves, spotting a lone woman tugging a leashed dog along.

Ah. You knew what this was. Everyone did. The other shoppers in the store paused too, staring at what was going on.

It was a rejected bond. When feelings between single soulbonded individuals become too bitter, the soul animal dissipates. Well, it was supposed to, and then reappear when feelings improve. But if the animal was constrained in some manner, then the animal can't disappear and is forced to remain in a physical form.

Judging from the leash on the dog’s neck, this was that same scenario. It was rather bold of the woman to bring the soul animal out in public if it was rejecting her like this. Almost brave.

Gothamites rarely helped each other, but things became a little sensitive with soul animals. You wouldn't be too surprised if there wasn't at least one attempt to free the dog today. It certainly caught attention. It could even catch.. vigilante attention.

You frowned. It was a shame to cut one of your few outings short. Sometimes there was no alternative though. You certainly wouldn't be sticking around.

You jumped at the sound of a shriek, eyes darting down to your bag where Robin rested. Robin glared venomously at your shoulder, and you glanced at it.

Your shoulder where… Ah. That would do it. Your shoulder where Red rested. Your third robin. You felt like crying. Why, why this pair?

You didn't even feel the bird as it appeared. Was that a testament to Red's stealth or your lacking observational skills?

Robin glared daggers at Red, practically hissing. You didn't even know birds could hiss. Red paid him no mind, instead looking very settled on your shoulder. The bird even snuggled your face a little. What a smug guy.

Another bark caught your attention. You glanced forward, remembering the scene. Your soul animal’s squabbling would draw too much attention. If any of the vigilantes were watching, you'd be in trouble. One robin soul animal was potentially excusable. But two? That would get you caught.

You tried to shush the two, a small signal for them to knock it off. Naturally, because it was these two, they ignored you. You groaned. This was far too public.

You grabbed Red, snatching him off your shoulder as gently as you could. Placing him gently into your shoulder bag, you tried your best to pretend the resulting screech from Robin wasn’t noticeable. The flap of your bag was closed, so no one could spot them… They could certainly hear if they came close enough though.

Time to leave. You paid for what you picked up and dashed out. The sight of rejected soulmates was generally considered disturbing, so anyone watching could just attribute your rush to that.

Were you paranoid?

Mayhaps a little.

You've justified it by the fact that you're probably soulmates with Batman and 4 robins, so paranoia is practically a requirement for your soul.

____

Hello ^ ^ welcome to my soulmate au! I do hope you enjoyed.

If you have any questions about the au, please feel free to reach out :D

[crownmemes]

Domestic Bickering Sentences, Vol. 2

(Sentences for problems - big, small, serious, and light - between muses in a relationship. Adjust phrasing where needed)

"I hope you've enjoyed yourself! I haven't!"

"Don't gloat, okay? It's really unattractive."

"You know you're a nag? A very pretty one, but a nag."

"And what is that supposed to mean?"

"You're behaving like a stubborn idiot!"

"Will you smile if I admit I was wrong?"

"Are you going to ignore me all day again?"

"You know, you're very, very cute. You're also very manipulative."

"That was one of the stupidest things you have ever done!"

"I am not having this conversation with you."

"You know what's wrong - you're just too stubborn to admit it."

"Just because you were right doesn't mean you weren't wrong."

"Get in the car, and don't ever try to work on a date again!"

"Don't tell me to calm down!"

"Is this a trick question? What answer isn't going to have me sleeping on the couch tonight?"

"Why can't you just admit that I was right?"

"Some women are quite charming when they're angry. Unfortunately, you are not."

"Are you trying to make me look stupid in front of the other guests?"

"I don't remember you being this bitchy."

"Go away. I'm ignoring you."

"I need to know - do you hate me, or do you love me?"

"You know I'll find out what you're up to, don't you?"

"It is not my fault I lost my job!"

"So, when you say 'call me if you need anything', you mean 'don’t call me'?"

"Are you kidding me? You're actually bringing this up right now?"

"You know, it wasn't too long ago when me wearing a sexy outfit would get an immediate response from you."

"I hate it when we argue."

"There are reasons I have to do what I do. One day, you'll understand."

"You've come home to me, then?"

"You keep so much bottled up that you're blowing up everything around you!"

"You're supposed to be on my team!"

"Do you think this is funny?"

"You're being a jerk!"

"You're not nearly as delightful as you think you are."

"This is really stupid."

"How come you never bring me coffee?"

"I can't even look at you right now."

"You really need to stop talking now."

"How am I even supposed to be in a relationship with you if you don't let me in?"

"You're more than usually allergic to the truth tonight."

"Are you having an affair?"

"You know what? I'm not talking about this right now."

"Are you working while we're in bed together?"

"Have you ever bothered, for just one minute, to understand how someone else might feel?"

"You're not telling me the truth."

"Stop looking at my ass when you think I'm not looking!"

[yandere-daydreams]

hi. so this is kind of a random musing that doesn't have anything to do with what youve been talking abt on your blog recently so feel free to ignore it, but i love how you write yandere nanami and between going live and an ask one of my followers sent me i kinda had a revelation. i wanted to see if you had any thoughts.

i think that before meeting reader nanami would be a virgin.

even if were talking non yandere nanami, i don't think he's ever had sex. i can't see nanami being the kind of person who likes hookup culture - he doesn't want to be used by someone - but i don't think he'd be able to justify getting in a romantic relationship because his job is so dangerous. he wouldn't want to die one day and leave his partner widowed. so he stays celibate, he's come to terms with the fact that he'll die untouched.

(he just jerks himself to freaky ass porn to get his fix (maybe even a camgirl hehe))

at least, until he meets a woman who makes all of his morality fly out the window.

suddenly, his sex drive is higher then ever. he's cumming into his fist every night to the thought of this special girl doing abhorrent things on his dick. he loves her. he's never loved someone this much in his entire life so she has to be the one to deflower him. that's probably one of the most romantic things someone can do in his mind, so it has to be her. she's his soulmate

all of this to say, i think nanami would kidnap reader and force her to teach him how to have sex through some fucked up means. it just tickles something in me imagining how stupidly giddy he'd be, so unabashedly pathetic as he undresses a woman for the first time.

like, him holding her hand with his forehead pressed to hers, cumming inside of her, jumping through as many mental hurdles necessary to justify what he's doing (or maybe just not caring bc she'll come around eventually, right?)

i love your work. thank you for listening to my ramble. <3

tw - non/con, kidnapping, manipulation, delusional behavior.

no no no i agree entirely,,, no amount of propaganda can convince me that any of the jjk men every had their dicks touched before the age of twenty-five at least, with nanami probably being the worst offender among them. i mean, he doesn't really connect with people outside of the sorcerer world, not really, not in a meaningful enough way to lead to that kind of intimacy, and as for other sorcerers... no. just no. he'd rather die a virgin than resort to anything as desperate as that, which is quickly becoming a very tangible reality.

and then he meets you (or, alternative, stumbled onto your stream at some ungodly hour, his cock already in his hand and his pleasure-deprived brain frantic for something soft and pliable to latch onto), and he decides that it might not be so bad to consider alternatives after all.

i can see it going one of two ways: if he has any reason at all to believe that you're also a virgin, whether or not it's true, he'll immediately lose all patience. if that wasn't the case, he might be able to take his time, stalk you for a few months before consummating your blooming relationship, but now he's on a clock, now he has to get to you before someone else does. he still tries to make it romantic, lights candles and brings you flowers and all that, but he's rushed, panicked, babbling incoherently about 'being each other's firsts' as he haphazardly undresses you. it's a miracle he remembers to do any prep at all - he's just in such a rush to be inside of you, to be the first and only person to every know what it's like to fully, genuinely actually be with you. if there's any pain, he'll comfort you later, make up for two and a half decades of abstinence with his tongue and hands, but only after he's already ruined you for anyone else.

if you're not a virgin and he can't make himself believe you are, then he'd probably go a little less absolutely feral (at first, i mean). don't get me wrong, you're still getting kidnapped asap, but rather than a beacon of innocence and purity that he can taint, you're the corruption forcing him to fall from grace, and he's going to want you to act like it. he's got a list of virginities he needs to to take (his first handjob, his fist blowjob, the first hickey, etc.), and between every milestone, he's going to want you to teach him how to pleasure you, even if you're still insisting you'd rather not let him touch you at all. he wants your full participation - it doesn't matter how many times he makes you cum on his tongue while you're sobbing into your pillow and trying to block him out, he's not going to stop until he hears your sweet voice encouraging with the little 'right there, kento's and 'good boy's he's made you rehearse. by the time you actually take his virginity, he's going to have made you feel dirtier than you ever could've made him feel, but so long as he's the one you're feeling dirty with, nanami doesn't really mind. not when he's buried inside you, his chest pressed into yours and he's too lost in his own pleasure to think the tears staining your cheeks are anything but beautiful.

anyway loser virgin nanami you will live forever. perhaps loser virgin gojo will pay for his crimes next.

[ryescapades]

love your new theme! im gonna be brave and request for a kaiser drabble. something like brother's best friend trope with him. all fluffy and cosy!

a secret third thing, maybe.

characters: michael kaiser (blue lock) x ness's sibling gn!reader genre/warning: fluff, slight manga spoilers, intended lowercase, not sure if i characterize them correctly here so might be ooc (i'm still reevaluating per se lmao), not proofread we die like real men rrahh a/n: didn't mean for it to get this long but i hope it is to your liking T.T i'm trying my best to get out of my writing slump so this is actually a good practice for me and thank you for requesting! <3

"you're late."

ness, only just arriving at the cafe a few seconds ago, pouts at your narrowed eyes. "i know, i know, sorry. but in my defense, i've never been to this town so it took a while to get here."

you sigh once again. "well, now that you're finally here, we should order something. i'm starving," you say, about to fully step out of your booth when a voice has you halting in your steps, making you nearly stumble from your foot catching against the leg of the table.

"ness, there you are." rich, velvety and familiar. too familiar.

ignoring the skip in your heart beat, you turn towards the owner of the voice, your eyes clashing with a pair of blues lined with vivid red.

"oh, isn't this such a nice surprise? ness didn't mention anything about meeting any of his dear family member." kaiser drawls, a smirk growing on his face.

the slight jab has both you and your brother scrunching your eyebrows. of course, kaiser knows about how in your family, you're the closest to ness. you never disparaged your brother just because he decided to pursue a different career path from everyone else. whatever he does, he's still your beloved brother.

you sharply swivel to the redhead, "why is he here?" you hiss. ness only blinks a few times before giving you a toothy grin. "why not? the more the merrier, right?" he chirps, apparently fine as he brushes off kaiser's earlier comment.

the aforementioned man only grins wider. "now, now. what's so wrong with me being here, hm?" he says, a knowing glint in his eyes as he makes eye contact with you.

and of course, he knows about your silly little crush on him too.

he's not dumb, after all. every time the two of you were in each other's presence, you just seem like you can't get it together; red cheeks, ears flushed and voice slightly trembling. it doesn't help that kaiser even uses those to his advantage by teasing you every chance he gets. not to mention his time away at that blue lock project never ceases your admiration for him any less. if anything, it just grows and you don't even know why and how.

"i-i didn't say—!" you sputter, looking away as heat crawls up your neck at his gaze. ness, seemingly oblivious to the dynamic between you and his teammate (or maybe he just doesn't care. you never know when it comes to your brother), adds in, "hey, how about i go order for us? i'll get all the tasty stuff, i promise!" he exclaims before running off to the counter.

you only stare at your brother's back with a faltering reaction, looking like a deer caught in headlights as you're now left alone with your... uh- crush...

kaiser whistles slightly as he takes a seat in front of you. "and there he goes. good ol' ness, huh?" he muses. you only hum as a response, now awkwardly drumming your fingers on the table.

"so... how have you been doing?" he starts, placing an elbow on the table with a cheek resting on his fist as the longer strands of blue hair flows down his shoulder smoothly.

you try hard not to stare.

taking a second too long to reply, you don't even look at him in the eye. not like you can, anyway. not without embarrassing yourself any further. "um, doing fine. i guess."

the next few seconds after that are filled with silence. perhaps there's even a crow flying by.

and then kaiser laughs— wait, why is he laughing? what's so funny about this? you're just here sitting and (barely) talking to your crush and he's laughing?!

"are you still shy, y/n? i'm pretty sure we've met plenty of times before. certainly by now you've gotten used to talking to me already." he remarks, a teasing lilt accentuating his tone.

trying to fight off the urge to fidget with yourself, you huff, "i'm not." the athlete in front of you raises a perfectly shaped brow. "you're not what? not shy or not used to talking to me?"

at that, your face frowns as you realize that once again, you're barely making any coherent replies so you let out a frustrated groan with your face hidden in your hands, "ugh, cut me some slack. you know why i'm like this." at this point you don't bother feeling embarrassed about your infatuation anymore. you’re way past being secretive.

this time though, kaiser is the one that takes a second too long to answer. and when he does, it's a low murmur of, "have i ever told you how adorable you are, mein liebling?"

he has. many times. over and over.

oh sweet lord. you could only pray you've got the mental (and cardiac) capacity to survive the whole day.

©🅁🅈🄴🅂🄲🄰🄿🄰🄳🄴🅂. do not steal, translate or repost my work anywhere else !

[darlingofvalyria]

❝You don't think I can please you?❞

part 05 | we're really in it now, darling

chapter summary:

[ Everything comes ahead at a hedge maze because. . . hedge maze. ]

[ +18 MDNI ] [ 4,517 ] [ series masterlist ] | best friend's brother!aemond targaryen x f!reader, ft. cregan stark x f!reader, aemond x alys rivers

contains— angst, a lil smutty but no full whorishness, ya'll good - i should really put idiots in love as a tag shouldn't i - nsfw: grinding + some sexy, sexy second base lmao - no kingslayers, no rogues, no betas.

a/n— i hope ya'll forgive me. comment, reblog & like at will, mi luvs, mwa!

You don't really know what you were expecting come Sunday. Once you started to 'ehh' 'hmmm' and 'maybe's your way through random moments with Helaena after the radio silence from Aemond— your best friend put her foot down.

"Fuck him," Helaena grumbled. "You've been going to Sunday dinners before he was even born, you are not backing down now."

 You snorted. "That's wildly inaccurate."

"Point still stands. Fuck. Him. You deserve my mother's tiramisu cake. He doesn't get to take that from you." Her eyes widen as if trying to instil her determination into your system via eye contact. "You are not going to let him take that from you."

You nodded. That's at least a point to pro you can stand by. Though she can't cook to save her life— Alicent's words, not yours — the woman sure can bake. It became therapeutic for her, she once said. How measuring ingredients and kneading dough to patiently folding cream after another kept her mind quiet and her hands busy.

"My faith strongly does not advise rage shooting, you know?" Alicent once hummed.

"Did you mean 'range' shooting?"

"Oh?" she nodded absentmindedly, smiling. "Yes, that too."

"That's true," you mused. Tiramisu cake was her mother's specialty. Every Sunday, she has all attendees pack up at least one cake per person and you and Hel usually stave off bites throughout the week until the next Sunday comes.  "I deserve some tiramisu cake, gods be damned it."

"Plus, if you come with me, we'll get two cakes to take home instead of one." She wagged her finger. "We count as two separate entities with one fridge, it's our greatest privilege."

"Daeron calls it preferential treatment."

"I am her only daughter, of course I get preferential treatment."

"As you should, bestie."

Even when you've stopped struggling with choosing if you were going or not, your mind is never faraway from thinking about Aemond. You wonder if he's finally gotten back with Alys was a bad train of thought, while an even worse train of thought is how soft his lips were and how he holds your hair to pull you close when his tongue glides across your bottom lip.

You blink, shaken from the thought. Bad. Bad brain. Stop it.

And repeat. At this point, it was safer to think about Alys and Aemond.

According to previous cycles, by this point they'd be at the height of their newly blossomed relationship— all sweet kisses and heated looks, unable to stop touching each other much less act a little bit better when they're trying to leave a group function to fuck their brains out — so you wouldn't be surprised to see come Sunday that he arrives with Alys— both of them tall, gorgeous with just enough undertone of smirky, smarmy tension that would make you want to stab your own eye out — pointedly ignoring you or whatever happened between you and him.

It hurt to think about sure, but what else did you think was going to happen?

That call made a space the size of a puddle that turned into a lake, welled deep with unresolved feelings and untouched topics. More questions than answers, drawing lines both of you were too scared to tug and see.

It's big enough to notice, and both stubborn enough not to anything about it.

You tried. Well, you almost did. In the weird hours of the day when your brain and body are more physically disjointed so rationality gives way to adrenaline. Most of the time, this is during working hours. You, checking your phone, running around his profile with your thumb a few times, biting your lip as your mind blanks and your body fights to call him. Or leave a message.

Before your mind and body reconnects and you fling your phone as far away from you as possible.

It's weird. You've never fought with Aemond before. If this was considered fighting. You've been disappointed in him, gotten angry and annoyed with him, but someone always, always offers an olive branch.

Every time you think about that call, you close up, your annoyance flares, and you shove your phone away.

In your amicable defense, this was primarily his problem. You weren't truly dating. He made it clear every choice he was making was en toward the agreed conditions were of making his ex jealous enough to take him back, yada yada yada.

Even if, possibly, you wanted more, he made no actual steps to make it known that he was considering it too.

Funny stares on your lips don't count. The only sabbatical from sexual adventures Aemond got were the breakup round with Alys, and as established before, they got it on pretty frequently.

Another thought bubble about Aemond's lips pops in your head, the mint from his toothpaste and the coffee from his black with no sugar, no milk, the way he seemed to suckle on your sighs—

Gods. Damn. It.

Focus.

That last call?

You're a grown ass woman. You're allowed to do whatever you want with whomever you want, and you're not going to make Aemond Targaryen's steely silence of what— disappointment? Of your choices? Of your choice in Cregan Stark and Cregan Stark Jr? Of what you were doing? Sure he was faithful to the Seven, a good old religious boy raised by his momma, but it doesn't make him a saint. Just because he's clinging to the vestiges of first love thinking it could very well be his last doesn't make him holy, or warrant enough to judge you for getting your little you some good dick.

Life is hard. Good dick is hard to come by!

So. Yeah. Days leading up to Sunday was radio silence and way too many thoughts circling your head like vultures, eating away at logic and rationality, and stubbornly still, you refused to make contact. If it's not out of pride, it's out of hurt.

Because he could apologise, but Aemond wasn't known for his apologies.

But then you remembered the flowers, the tulips, and now you just felt sad. Moping, getting annoyed, and trying to get through work without breaking your phone speeds the week in a blur.

Come Sunday afternoon, Helaena was coming to pick you up from her shift at the vet— the beauty of having a vet bff is the Russian roulette of pictures; you never know if you're about to get cuddly new patients with big, sad eyes and pouty snouts or her newest c-section win without any attempts of a blur — so you could get to her mother's house together, you decided to go for the nines with your outfit.

A sweet summer dress later, some gold gladiator sandals half off from your favourite but largely can't afford shoe boutique that you swear you were always going to wear to make up for the insane price (thank the gods Alicent didn't have a no shoe policy because it takes fifteen minutes to get them on and you cannot be on the floor, on her house, with Aemond around, rolling around like a hot potato on the entry way trying to get a fucking shoe on), dusted and prepped in you're fancier version of makeup, and was just finishing off your hair— using the good mousse whilst blaring Disney epics — when knocking came.

You freeze.

On one hand, it could just be Helaena, forgetting her keys again somewhere as she had done so numerous times before, but there hadn't been a slew of expletives or her impression of a cool, clinical voice saying, ''Tis I, the Stranger, have come for thee soul! Open up I gotta pee, woman!' so you got a pretty good guess on the alternative, sending your heart into a stutter and get smacked with a well deep of yearning.

You miss Aemond. You miss hanging out with him, even just having him on video call whilst you prepped a late dinner and he's working out his thesis defense, too late for either of you, but catching another's eye in the tiny phone and sharing a comforted grin. You miss being called my lady in a language that means so much to him, miss bumping shoulders and smelling his crisp scent of cologne and laundry.

Miss his lips, his very soft, very delicious lips—

"Gods damnit, woman, keep it together," you murmur to yourself. Another series of knocks, ever patient, and you're moved by body not mind as breathless giddiness yanks the door open—

Only to fall flat.

"Oh." You can't hide your disappointment at the curly blond with the smirk for centuries. "Aegon. I didn't know it was you."

"Yes, the expressive disappointment in your eyes could bring a man on the edge to his downfall, I must say," he jokes hoarsely, a little hurt. "Not even a hi Aeg. I've missed you Aeg, or— hey Aeg! You look good enough to eat!"

It's Aegon. Not Aemond. Or Helaena. Helaena and Aemond's older brother, Aegon. Party rocking, cocaine hiding, sweat and someone's lipstick smelling Aegon. You like him despite his whorishness because he's funny, because he's sweet when he wants to be, and he always, always gets you a funny mug when he comes back from wherever he came from.

You blink a couple of times, laughing awkwardly as you give him a quick hug. He still smells the same, with the lightest tint of sun in him from his days at the beach not so long ago no doubt.

"Sorry, sorry. Hi Aeg, I've missed you Aeg, and yes, you do look good enough to eat, Aeg."

He hugs back tighter, smothering you in the denim jacket he's wearing and the curly edge of his white blond hair. He's got a new piercing and smells of new perfume.

"So do you, princess," he says as you step back and he appraises you appreciatively. "Those shoes can step on me any time."

"I will never."

"You will never," he says chirpily, moving back with a teasing grin. "Let me guess, you were waiting for my uglier version to come by and got too overwhelmed by the majesticness of me."

'"Majesticness isn't even a word." You snort. "And Aemond is not your uglier version, you don't look that alike."

He raises an eyebrow as you blink. Fuck. "Dear me oh my, I meant Helaena, babe. When did Aemond get into the mix?"

You shove his shoulder, huffing as you pick up your keys and bag, forcing him to step back as you lock the apartment, trying to give yourself grace from his burning, teasing stare. "As if Helaena didn't tell you." You finally turn to him, lips pursed at his faux innocent pout. "Helaena tells you everything."

"She might have mentioned a thing or two about a thing or two." He bumps your hip as you both get into the elevator. "Imagine my surprise when Lae-lae tells me of a wondrous development between her two favourite people that involved a breakup, some gift-giving shenanigans, and kissing." He gasps dramatically as you groaned. "I leave for what— a month or two and suddenly you and Aemond are making out? Babe, I must say, you're doing the tongue tango with the wrong brother."

 "He's not the wrong brother, also the tongue tango? Really?" you snap suddenly. The wrong brother comments always irk you because you understand that it's a sensitive issue to Aemond, as well as Aegon himself.

But it's a bait you realise too late because Aegon Targaryen enjoys hauling truths from people in steps and tricks, uncaring if he takes a stab or two to get there as you meet his gaze against the reflective wall, positively smirking.

"Really now?"

"Why are you even picking me up? I thought you were in Oldtown."

"Already sorted. Hel wanted to make sure you get there in time, she's going to be late... After all your earlier ride backed out didn't he?"

Your mouth pursed, annoyance prickling at your edges as the elevator pulled into the lobby. "I don't want to talk about it, where's your car?"

He whistles, languid and all the time in the world on his shoulders with just the hint of smug. "It's a thirty minute ride, babe, you're going to spill."

You shoot him a withering glare. "Not if I have say in it." For emphasis, you yank his door and slam it. Fuck his new Maserati.

"Mature!"

Thirty minutes is more than ample time for Aegon Targaryen to weed his way into your brain like the worst case of earworm (like a stupid ass commercial jingle that just. Won't. Stop) that by the time you reach his mother's, you were ranting.

"—like I get it, saying I'm going out with another guy to get some good dick after confirming that we're going to your mother's for Sunday as a date is bad, but we're not really dating! He said so himself! He pressed the issue of it not being a real thing! And he didn't attempt any—"

"— any communication at all," Aegon echoes, stretching his legs as he stood. "Not a sorry or anything."

"Anything!" you bolster, slamming his door again that is less about him and more about the aggressiveness. "I know that he's bad at apologising, or facing things that are hard, choosing to stew in it and act all shitty to people, I just... I thought he'd at least tell me. Doesn't that warrant our friendship?"

"Hm. Ever think that's precisely why he struggles with you?"

"What does that even mean?"

"That he cares about you, so he struggles more with expressing himself."

You turn to him, cocking your head. "When did you get so wise, oh Gandalf?"

"A Seven focused rehab facility can do that to you," he muses wistfully. "There was this nun that says verses when she orgasms."

You make a face. "Love the fun fact."

"You're welcome. But back to point, isn't the issue also the fact that you never tried to make contact with him either?"

"Well. Yeah. Because..."

Aegon squints at you sympathetically. "Because you're scared of rocking the boat because of how much you like him?"

"Not, well," you hesitate. "Not like that precisely..."

"How much you're capable of liking him?" Aegon smiles wryly. "You had a crush on him, I remembered that at least. When Hel first introduced you to him, you couldn't stop teasing him until he lit up like a Christmas tree. I knew you liked him since then. You called him pretty half the time, and I started to realise it was less about his reaction but how you actually see him, and speaking as the naturally cherub, pretty boy of the family, I find this highly, highly offensive."

You pinch his cheeks, wounding your arm over his shoulder. Aegon was built like a linebacker with less muscles that aren't postern, with wide shoulders and a strong body that's too easy to lean against.

"You're pretty too, Aeg," you coo. "But he's just..."

 "If you say ethereal, I will vomit right in my mother's petunias." He makes a face. "How about this. The problem is that you think Aemond doesn't like you back."

You frown at him. "I know Aemond doesn't like me back."

"Oh, sweetie," Aegon coos, sympathy and pity swirling in his smug, smug smile. "I'm so glad you're pretty."

You pinch his sides until he squirms. "Fuck you, what the hell?"

"What I'm saying is, let's test that, you know? Because that's the only variable you aren't sure with?"

You sigh. "Aeg, even if he does, I'm not going to pounce—"

The door swings open, and there he is, of pretty boy face and good boy posture because his mother raised herself a good, devout boy who doesn't know what a slouch is because he's not an ape— and is he wearing his leather jacket? Of course he's wearing the leather jacket and you know that smell, that spiced cologne with the leather and his natural scent and fuck, Aemond is looking at you, looking at his brother, and the open expression, the shock, that smidge of relief— shutters to an icy politeness.

Aegon because he's Aegon, pulls you closer, his mouth curling into a grin that only says trouble, forcing Aemond to straighten up his already perfect posture in preparation for whatever his brother has in mind and his stare is white-hot on the conjoined appendages between you and his brother— and Aegon lands a wet, smacking kiss on your cheekbone.

"Had to pick up your girl, baby bro, I mean what kind of—" his blue gaze finds his mother descending the stairs, peering out to see on who it was, and you're frozen, waiting for the bomb to drop and simultaneously unprepared for it, "— boyfriend has his brother pick up his girl? Good thing you got a good excuse, huh? Oh, hey mother dearest! Your favourite son has come back!"

As Aegon leaves your side with a cheeky little wink, you bit your lip at the frosty look on his face that makes you feel like an absolute idiot and fills you with rage all in one go. Because Aemond has never looked at you like that, like you were at fault and acting like a child, but that you also want to jut a finger against his chest.

"Did you have a nice talk with him on the drive over?" he says, jaw hard.

"I didn't tell him," you hiss, taking the hem of his leather jacket instead of his hands enough so you can pretend to kiss his cheeks because his mother is right there, eyes wide at that two of you as Aegon gave you a discreet thumbs up.

"Helaena did. Get over yourself, your mother's—"

 "Aemond?"

As he freezes and Alicent calls your name, you plaster the best smile you can make as you twine your fingertips with his.

"Smile."

"Hm."

When you leave his side to greet Alicent, you make sure to stomp on his stupid shoes.

As soon as you've finished your mandatory greetings— even with Otto Hightower, Aemond's grandfather, who merely raised his eyebrows at the apparent new status of you and his grandson, Alicent having to blink multiple times, wrangling positives as she kept shooting her son looks while he stood like a block of ice behind you — Aemond takes your hand by his own volition, tangles your fingers too tight, and starts tugging you along like a bouy.

"Are you a child?" you hiss, trying to pry your hand as insistently without outright yanking, Alicent already sending you both concerned looks at a news that she called 'oh, that is wonderful!'

"I am younger than you," he murmurs back, holding you tight.

"Oh, fuck you."

With a defeated huff, you take longer, heavier strides and stomps so you're the one dragging him.

It's all illusion of control built on pettiness because you're still being navigated, it's more just pride at this point, but you don't care, and when he scoffs right back, you felt at least a pinch of a win.

And then he, of course, matches your strides so fucking easily.

"Freaking horse-legged motherfucker," you mumble. You don't know if he catches it, or you're imaging the soft, surprised noise that's both a snort and a laugh.

He winds you around the hallway, an unbreakable trajectory to the backyard, dragging you past an easy eye view from the dramatic, floor to ceiling windows and trespassing straight into the hedge maze because of course they had one of those.

"Really? Here?"

"Do you want to be ogled up by my mother?" he says in a nauseatingly chipper voice. "Is that what you and Aegon are planning with all this, hm?"

You twist out of his grip, walking deeper on your own until your eyes are swallowed by the darkness. When you turn to him, your eyes adjust, only seeing the silver of his hair, so different from his black leather jacket and dark green jumper. You don't see his expression or his sharp gaze.

"Planned this? Seriously? Nothing since coming here had been planned, Aemond," your voice has bite and if your eyes had adjusted faster, or if you could see better, you would see the flinch he makes, "if it had been, this certainly would be the last of my fucking choices. Or do I have to remind you of the fact that we were supposed to go together? Oh right, things change when you drop a call out of fucking nowhere!"

"I—fuck." He moves around, a hand through his hair as exhales in frustration. "I didn't... think you'd want to go with me. That Sunday plans had been cancelled."

"And you didn't think to message? I mean it's not like we're friends in literally every social media." You try not to sound hurt before taking a deep breath, offering your palms up. "I didn't—don't even know what the issue is, Aemond. Were you so offended that I was sexually active that you just had to rudely drop the call and not talk—"

It's maybe the darkness, or intuition but you can bet half yours savings that Aemond Targaryen is blushing.

"It... gods, no it's not... I wasn't offended that you were sexually active," he says softly, evenly. He clears his throat. "I don't... mind that you're... sexually active. I actively... support it. Even." He coughs. Swallows. Curses.

If you don't feel like your heart is pounding in your throat you would have laughed. You had never seen the boy this flustered before that it's affecting his words, because Aemond has always been the most well spoken person you know.

"Is it about Cregan? Do you have something against Cregan?"

His eye flutter close. "No... and yes."

"I don't understand, Aemy," you whisper, defeated.

He sighs. In the dark, you notice a movement. His hands flex. It's a habit he's had since you've known him. It's instinct. The way you reach out, finding a piece of his leather jacket until you find your way to his hands, running your fingers over the bones and ridges, his sinew and skin. There are callouses from his fencing, running your thumb over his knuckles.

He's frozen first before he sighs, melting through the warmth you share with him.

 "I have nothing against Stark," he finally says. "It's the fact that you were still having sex with him that I found unfair." He steps closer until you can see his face better, the struggle in him can be told through the furrow in his brows and the press of his pillowy lips, red and wet as if he had bitten through it. "I... understand that we're not really together, but I couldn't... not feel as if it wasn't right. As if I wanted it to be me."

His hands finds your arms, eye closing and gently placing his forehead against your own. At first you panic, your body trying to make your brain decide do you like this or not but it's Aemond, and he's warm, gentle, sweet almost. It's familiar and new at the same time. It's warmth you recognise, skin you will know anywhere, but in a way that you've never felt him before.

You close your eyes and breathe with him.

You know that this is rare. That this Aemond is reserved for people he loves and cares about, but with his forehead against yours, with his hands holding you steady, rubbing a comforting thumb over your skin that felt just as for him as it was for you, breathing you in and exhaling you out. A single breath between two bodies.

"I don't know if I can agree to that, Aemy."

"What?" He pulls back, hurt pulling taunt your favourite pair of lips. "Do you like Cregan more? You don't think I can please you?"

"That's not—"

His hands closes on your face, cupping it in his palms as you stare, wide-eyed at the blue fire lit up in his eye. His breath brushes your lips, making them tingle.

"Push me away if you don't want it," he says before his eye closes and he takes your mouth against his own, swallowing your gasp then pulling you away again, eye glinting.

"Push me away, ñuha riña." His voice is so soft, words crisp while your body thrummed in a single, frantic heartbeat. When you don't move, too shock, thoughts tangled, he smirks.

With his teeth, he captures your bottom lip, grazing it. When he feels you shudder, eyes fluttering, he chuckles meanly.

"Push me away as if you don't want me." He tilts your chin up as he looks down on you, eye confident in its lust. His thumb brushes your bottom lip. "As if you don't feel everything I do."

"Fuck you," you manage to exhale as you grab the back of his head and devour him just as you did at the restaurant. He groans, using his other hand to feel your side, pass your one breast, giving it a firm squeeze that makes you gasp, tongue clashing, legs tangling as you push and push and he pulls you to him, his back hitting the prickly hedge. It's teeth and tongue, breaths twisted in one air as you used each other like lifelines, like enemies in a swords match.

It's feverish and passion, infuriating want that gives. Because when you dominate the kiss, tangling his tongue with your own, yanking him down and down as if you want him to reach every part of you inside, he bends and follows. And when he pulls you, tangles your hair and takes every gasp and breath, you surrender.

He groans when you suck on his bottom lip, pulling away just enough to spit out, "You taste so much better than my dreams." His mouth moves down and down, leaving a path of heat as he suckles at your neck, practically ripping the buttons of the top of your dress as he slides down and grunts in pain.

"A-Aemy?" Your eyes flutter. "Your back, shit—"

"Fuck that." He tugs you down until you land with an oomph! on his lap, your chest at his eye level before he drags them back to your gaze. "Tell me to stop."

You shake your head, tangling your fingers in his hair. "No."

"Good."

Your back arches, supported in his hold, as he starts sucking the skin lower and lower, another hand massaging your tit that pools hot down your core until his hand, warm and solid, sinew and bone, and Aemond Aemond Aemond, slides between your bra and cups your breast and his hand is so big, and it feels so good that you start grinding on the hard length you feel right at your—

An ear-splitting shriek freezes the both of you. You and Aemond pull back, hand still on your tit.

"Wha—"

"Ew, ew, ew! Mom said you were fighting! FIGHTING DOES NOT EQUATE FUCKING IN THE MAZE, YOU FUCKING CLICHES!"

TAGGED: @snowprincesa1 @gemini-mama @fan-goddess @snh96 @valeskafics @opheliaas-stuff @tempo-rary-fix @fantasticpeaceharmony @diannnnsss @iamavailablesstuff @spinachtz @at-a-rax-ia @bespinnn @tsujifreya @moonlightfoxx @kemillyfreitas @joyouart @bananzaa @honey-on-mars @alexa4040 @cinnamonbambii @wintrr13 @wxb-slingrr @astroswift @queenofshinigamis @helaenaluvr @kaetastic @jxdegodfrey @laniii-on-your-left @watercolorskyy @microwaveallthedemons @kazuyatokue @herfantastyworldd @averyyreads @urmomsgirlfriend1 @bellstwd @jiminie-08 @ttkttt @nockerin @backyardfolklore @random-ocity @hc-geralt-23 @vendettasblog @cicaspair418 @malynn @anehkael @schadenfreude-and-sarcasm

[lestappenforever]

DROP THE TEXT EXCHANGE FIC 🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪

I would like to preface this by saying that threats are not a good incentive to get me to write anything, anon. But, you're in luck this time because I was already feeling inspired as hell.

The text exhange in question.

Dedicated to @f1writingbyme, for once again being my muse, allowing me to scream ideas at her, and helping me decide on the very important details along the way.

AO3 link.

---

There's a hand on his shoulder during his post-qualifying interview in the media pen; a firm squeeze followed by equally firm pats, and Charles knows who it is before he even lays eyes on Max. After all, he could recognize that touch anywhere, at any time.

His face lights up with pure glee at the sight of the Dutchman, the way it always does.

Green eyes meet blue, and despite Max's own disappointing qualifying landing him in a measly P6, the Red Bull driver looks at Charles with nothing but genuine joy and pride. Because in spite of his own struggles, Max is irrevocably, endlessly happy for Charles.

Max knows how much this means to him — has been there for every single disappointing weekend the Monégasque has experienced in his home race over the past few years. He's seen the heartbreak in his eyes, listened to him raging about the mistakes made there in the past; both by Charles himself and by his team. As with practically everything else in his career, Max has been right there with him. And for that reason, Charles is absolutely certain that even if Max had ended up having to start tomorrow's race from P20, the Dutchman still would have found it in himself to be as happy for Charles as he would have been for himself had Max been the one to secure pole.

They clasp hands like they have done hundreds, if not thousands, of times before. Max's grip is tight, but Charles' is even tighter, as he is overcome with a realization that has hit him so many times before over the years:

He doesn't want to let go. And he can tell by the way Max squeezes his hand one more time that the feeling is mutual.

Charles sees his own emotions, his own desires, reflected in those beautiful blue eyes — can feel the electricity simmering between them, just beneath the surface, the way it has done for so many years. Always there, close enough for them both to reach out and grasp and yet, just out of reach. It's a line neither of them have dared to cross, both highly aware of the fact that if — when — they do, there will be no going back.

The unasked question that has always been there, but never spoken aloud, lies heavy between them.

'Are you feeling this, too?'

'No,' the other would always answer, just as silently as the question itself. Even if it's a lie. Even if it has always been a lie; one they've both told themselves and each other as a way to ensure they don't step over that line.

But, in that moment, Charles is sure he would never even want to go back. Sure that if there is one thing he wants almost as much as winning his home race tomorrow, it's crossing that line with Max. To give into that oh-so-powerful pull between them they've both been trying and failing to ignore for God knows how long.

They maintain eye contact only for a mere few seconds, but it's enough for Charles to see that flash in Max's eyes.

He wants to cross that line, too. It's about time. It's long overdue.

Max lets go of his hand and walks away, and Charles looks down at the ground briefly, trying to will his cheeks not to flush with the intensity of such a brief exchange in front of the camera, before returning his focus to the interviewer.

His mind, however, never lets go of Max.

If Charles hadn't already felt like he was flying, he sure as hell is now.

***

His phone vibrates in his pocket a little while later, and Charles feels his heart picking up the pace as he reads Max's name on the display.

'Congratulations on pole! Well deserved!'

His heart flutters.

'Thank you! I'm so happy 😊'

He sends a second text immediately after.

'It's a shame you're not up there with me, though'

Max doesn't leave him waiting long for a response.

'Still 78 laps to go, mate. You think I won't do everything to get into the top 3 tomorrow?'

Charles glances around, making sure nobody is paying attention to him as he tries and fails to bite back a smile as excitement starts coursing through him.

'You really think you can overtake two Mercedes, at least one McLaren and a Ferrari?'

It's a stupid question, Charles knows, because if anyone can do it in Monaco, it's Max fucking Emilian Verstappen. But he can't resist the jab; can't resist the urge to try to get under Max's skin, just a little. Just like he hasn't been able to resist since he and Max first met back in karting when when they were literal children.

The bubble with the three dots appears briefly before disappearing and reappearing a few seconds later. Then:

'To get to share a podium with you in your home race?'

'I could overtake Michael, Seb and Ayrton if I had to.'

The smile turns into a full-blown grin, and Charles feels giddy as he reads the two messages over and over again. The anticipation thrumming within him, bubbling just underneath the surface of his skin, is so overwhelming he needs three attempts to send his next message that consists of a single word:

'Yeah?'

Then, with more confidence:

'Prove it.'

Max's response is immediate.

'Oh, I will.'

As he pockets his phone, his heart beating wildly in his chest and his teeth sinking into his bottom lip, he knows Max isn't just talking about the race.

He hadn't thought he could feel even more excited about tomorrow than he already did, but as he has done so many times with so many things in the past, Max proves him wrong.

***

On Sunday, Charles is preparing to leave his driver's room and make his way to the garage to get ready for the race. But as he opens the door, he's met with the familiar face of Max Verstappen.

"Max, what are you—,"

The Dutchman places a hand on Charles' chest and firmly pushes him back into the room, following him inside and closing the door behind him with his foot in one swift movement. Charles barely has time to process what's happening before Max has grabbed a hold of his shoulder, turned him around and pushed him up against the wall by the door.

Charles has effectively lost his ability to speak as he watches Max lean in until their lips are mere inches apart.

"I needed to see you alone, before the race," he says, voice barely above a whisper. Max's hands drop from his shoulders, instead sliding down his chest, his stomach, coming to a halt on his waist. "To wish you luck."

Charles swallows past the lump in his throat. "You think I need it?" he asks, trying to sound calm and collected, but his voice betrays him almost as much as his dilated pupils do.

"No," Max says immediately, allowing his lips to brush featherlight against Charles'. It's not a kiss, and even if Charles so desperately wants it to be, he doesn't cross that line.

Not yet.

"But I wanted to do it anyway," the Dutchman adds, moving one hand from Charles' waist and raising it to cup Charles' jaw instead, letting his thumb drag gently over the Monégasque's bottom lip.

It sends a full-body shiver through him; one Max notices if the way the small smirk on his lips is anything to go by.

"Good luck, Charles," Max whispers, thumb still on Charles' bottom lip as he leans in closer, closer, until his lips are touching the back of his own thumb, the digit being the only thing separating them.

Charles' heart is beating so hard that he's sure Max must be able to feel his pulse against his thumb. The Dutchman's other hand tightens on Charles' waist, his pupils practically making the blue of his iris disappear altogether.

The thumb moves and Charles thinks that Max will finally — fucking finally, after far too many years — kiss him.

Only for Max to lean his head to the side and instead presses a gentle kiss to Charles' cheekbone; a careful brush of lips against soft skin.

"I'll see you on the podium," he breathes against the skin of Charles' cheek, before pulling away completely and turning to put his hand on the door handle. He pauses before opening the door, looking at Charles with an expression the Monégasque doesn't think he's ever seen before.

"Hey, Charles?"

The Monégasque blinks at him.

"Are you feeling this, too?" Max asks him then, voicing the question that has only been asked through looks up until that point.

And Charles, knowing there is only one correct answer — knows there is only one answer that conveys the truth — sticks with the lie.

For now.

"No."

Max smiles at him, a soft and private thing. Charles' own expression morphs into one of adoration and longing. He returns the smile.

"Me neither."

And with that, Max opens the door and walks out of Charles' driver's room, as if he hasn't just turned both their worlds upside down.

[parvulous-writings]

AHHH YOU WRITE FOR BILL AND TED !! there's so little of them on here or anywhere else it's so sad.

If it's not too much trouble, could you write some Bill fluff hcs, or like a mini fic about gn or fem reader tutoring them both and Bill has a crush on them/her?

If not, no worries just ignore. And if you do, thank you for your service 🫡

OKAY OKAY - I'm going to combine these a little bit- so, you tutor both Bill and Ted, and Bill has a bit of a crush on you- as headcanons!

Apologies the sides of tutor/relationship are a tad uneven, I wrote most of this in the early hours of the morning, and muse was... all over the place XD

Not my gif

Bill had always just scraped by when it came to his grades. He was just about average for the majority of his education - but his teachers had always had an inkling that he could push himself more, the same with Ted as well. Neither of them particularly minded being average grade, though - they weren't failing, so why try change anything?

It's only when they start getting further into their High-School education that they have this... Nagging feeling, that something needs to be done- but, no matter how hard the pair of them try, nothing seems to change. Nothing... Grabs them, or holds their attention for very long. They try again and again - drilling each other, testing one another on the right answers to all the questions they've made based on the subjects. It never works, nothing sticks.

Starting to get desperate, Bill starts to turn to you - not explicitly, initially, though. He sits next to you in a couple of classes, so he starts looking over your shoulder every so often, scribbling down as many notes as he can without being suspicious. He manages it - but nothing makes sense to him OR Ted when they look back on the notes.

Unsure of what else to do, they keep up this little scheme. They've no better ideas, and though they have absolutely NO clue what half of it means, they cannot see any other option for them.

Unfortunately, Bill was not as sneaky as he thought that he was. Nowhere even close. You'd noticed a couple weeks ago- and you'd just let him continue, assuming that he would be able to go up at least a grade with the notes you'd essentially given him. But as you watched, his grades never changed. So, you decided to take a more active hand in it.

You approached him and his friend Ted one day, whilst they sat in the corner of the courtyard together, surrounded by books and notes they had made. "Bill, my most excellent friend," The darker haired one began, looking up from his work. "I can't understand a single thing any of these books say..." Bill looks up at this, looking equally as disappointed. "Neither can I, Ted... Neither can I..." He sighs, before returning to his little endeavour.

You clear your throat, startling both of them. They both turn to look up at you. "Uh... Hello?" Ted breaks the silence, "Can we help you?" He doesn't mean to sound rude at all, and if anything, he just sounds like he's attempting to sound like he's a gentleman of a bygone era. "Well, I was actually wondering if I could help you..." You chuckle back at them. Their eyes light up simultaneously.

And that's how it begins - your tutoring lessons. Twice a week, Tuesdays and Thursdays. Any subject, and all of them - you leave it to Bill and Ted to decide what you cover, and you spend however long they need on it. You actually begin to notice some remarkable improvement with this method- they finally start to understand and build on the knowledge you help them to gain. They start to improve in class, and you couldn't be prouder of them.

Ted thanked you to know end - and often showed his appreciation with a non-stop flow of all the musical facts stored in his head. Bill, on the other hand, was a little bit quieter. He often just... Gazed at you. He often stayed longer than he needed as well, thanking you for your time and making sure his notes were correct.

It was roughly two months of this before Bill actually decided to make his move on you. "So... Are you doing anything this evening?" "I don't think so... Why d'you ask, Bill?"

He tries to overlook the way his heart flutters - as it has started to more and more in the past few weeks - when you say his name. "Well, I was wondering if you'd like to catch a movie with me, there's this drive in theatre not too far away, and.."

You barely have to hear the rest of the sentence before you say yes - and you don't regret it. It was a sweet little evening - Bill even got you popcorn. He drove you home after that - and over the next few weeks, it became your thing. Go out to the movies, have some popcorn. Ted even comes along with you a few times!

You always looked forward to your movie night with Bill - whether it was at the theatre, the drive in, or even at home. Neither of you minded where it was; it was more of the fact that the pair of you were spending time with one another, outside of the tutoring. Even though it sometimes bled over into your study sessions- with Bill often going, "Hey, isn't that like when we saw..." when it's relevant (and even sometimes when it's not) - it's a nice getaway for the pair of you, and it's a little weekly tradition you have to yourselves for a very long time.

[princess-of-the-corner]

Was musing on that "Villain Marinette's mock Gabriel" thing and had a fun thought.

There's actually perfectly good in character reasons why a villainous Marinette would be more dangerous than Gabriel without making him look like a joke. I'll be using my Lady Glasswing as a basis for this:

Noroo:

Gabriel regards & treats Noroo like a blend of animal & tool; there's no respect or mutual communication, he does not engage with Noroo at all unless he as to.

Marinette's relationship with Noroo is more akin to "Oh my wonderful, life changing, power granting wish fairy who comforted me in my lowest moment & gave me a path to saving my parents, I love you!"

It'd take a long time for their relationship to sour & before that, & because Noroo as an empath gets too caught up in their handlers emotional state, the two talk and theorize and otherwise collaborate a lot. As a result she has a really intimate understanding of her powers and limits early on.

Though some of her experiments & ideas, and especially results do eventually get Noroo like:

Noroo did not know they could do that and would rather not have known thank you!

The other reasons would be fairly straight forward as well:

Lady Glasswing: I suppose its true what they say, necessity is the mother of invention.

Or in other words, Marinette's not living in a fortress manor, with someone else to take care of all her needs, able to just sit around at home all day and is vastly, vastly more limited by her youth.

This forced her to get creative right out the gate, especially as she knew she'd be going up against a fully trained Guardian.

In contrast, Gabriel's plan for 90% of Seasons 1 & 2 was basically "Eventually I'll hit on the right combo of smart, strong & special to win, why hurry?" He tried a few gambits like the tv stunt, spying on Lila, Audrey.

But overall, it wasn't until Heroes Day & then when Nathalie was dying that he really got experimental with it and we saw how quickly he started doing bonkers shit like fusing people together and & orchestrating Chloe's breakdown. He just didn't feel that pressed to do so before hand.

Nothing left to lose:

The above also ties into a big difference in their approaches. Gabriel, regardless of the nature of his care for his son, Nathalie, nominal friends or fashion empire. Is invested in them,. It could be possessive & toxic, or more nuanced, but he has things to lose.

Marientte?

Her parents are dead or comatose, her grandfather wants nothing to do with her & sucks, her grandmother dips out 90% of the time cos she can't handle grief. She can't even speak the same language as the other side of her family who are not in the same country & she feels isolated & alienated from her peers & humanity.

She's very much pinned everything on "Fix my parents through any means necessary & all will be right again" and if she dies trying? Well she doesn't really care about that does she?

So, even ignoring that this pushes her further faster, it also means she's more willing to get stuck into it. Often joining Akuma in battle or using Familiars, pulling go big or go home schemes are her standard. She really only retreated once there were too many heroes around for her presence to be anything but a detriment.

Meanwhile Gabriel even though he had tons of advantages over Ladybug & Chat Noir, especially early on avoids risking himself as much as possible, Only leaving his base when he thinks he's already won or has no choice and as a result simply has less experience or otherwise, zealous drive by comparison.

So yea, end results?

Communicating with one's Kwami is good for growth.

Limits can foster creativity while no limits can inadvertently stifle it.

A disregard for one's self and others, while especially noble, is a good teacher if you survive doing it long enough.

Notes:

Though I do still like Marinette making a jab at Gabriel-Moth.

Marinette: Limits foster creativity, I mean look at Gabriel's original work compared to the repetitive, sterile dreck he puts out now that he has nothing but time and money.

Gabriel (Seething) What a... Fascinating perspective.

GET HIS ASS

[startographist]

☆ﾟ⁠ . * ･⁠ ｡ﾟDEAR SOULMATE — PROLOGUE I 🪽

prev. mlist. next

wistful, dreamy, and vague— those are the three words kazuha describes kunikuzushi's pieces. wistful that you can feel the nostalgia by just looking at it, dreamy and vague as if it lets the viewers reciprocate what the piece truly means. 

but one thing about kunikuzushi's pieces that makes them genuinely recognizable is the muse.

in every painting, a muse in white is always included, if it's not the main focus of the piece, the muse is present.

kunikuzushi doesn't know why he paints a specific muse either, he certainly can't say that it's a force of habit or has seen the muse before in fact, the muse is just a product of his void of imagination.

every time that he tries not to paint the muse he either ends up unconsciously painting her or he feels that something is missing...

there's no denying that painting her was an unspoken law itself.

and he dared not to break it.

because from the base of her neck to the arch of her eyelids, her beauty made a slave of him.

 

soulmates. he thought it was worthless.

soulmates are a useless and unpleasant concept, the red string tied to his pinky finger is served as a distraction for him.

and the idea of commitment itself scares him and as if being tied to another is gonna change everything... he's abandoned after all, hope isn't gonna do anything hell— it will crush you to pieces, he knows it too damn well.

but with a red string looped to his finger twitching, he wonders...will his soulmate be the one who'll heal him? some even suggest that the muse in white is his soulmate, whether it's true or not, he doesn't care or so he thinks...

he's in a sheer in denial but one day, he dreams, he'll have his soulmate to dedicate all of his pieces... and so, he secretly waits for that day...

a hint of elegance and serenity, its aroma dancing around her, each sniff leaving a feeling of contentment that made her grin. she can still feel the softness of petals on her fingertips. she admired the sight that made her eyes beam with admiration as she grasped the stem between her index and thumb.

she knelt in front of the flowers, which looked at her with grandeur that she would never achieve. she wasn't bothered by other people's conversations or footsteps since her complete attention was on the flowers in front of her.

they danced whenever the wind was too strong outdoors. the noises of gasping from the women wearing skirts could be heard, but she was unaffected. she desires a stronger breeze so that the flowers can swing gracefully with it. the scarlet string in her pinky twitched, yet she chose to be ignorant as her attention still on flowers.

when one of the petals dropped on her hand, she giggled. It was blue, a colour that many people consider basic, yet any colour mixed with it makes it appear much more lively in her opinion. despite the noises in the distance, she feels as if she's in heaven since everything is just too serene for her.

she worried that the peacefulness will soon be disrupted by unwanted tragedy.

a special butterfly was letting itself arrive and dance with the breeze as the tiny shop's bell chimed. such a small object with a kaleidoscope of colours whirling around it, a tiny work of art that drew her gaze in enjoyment.

as it landed gently on one of the petals, its wings fluttered in a little way. she gazed at it, and no matter how much she deny it, she believe it stared back at her. it soared away, high and free, with one hand rising and her fingertip almost brushing its wings. she wonders oh-so carefully, maybe this butterfly is my soulmate, she thinks.

she runs after the butterfly, ignoring the stares from people who thought it was a childish act. bumping into different people but she paid no mind as her eyes and mind are focused on the little creature that entranced her minutes ago.

then again, the scarlet string started twitching, perhaps glowing.

she ran after it, but she stopped when it landed on someone else. again blue is the color she tends to ignore, but somehow it caught her eye this time on an ordinary day. she got lost and instead stared at those ocean eyes as the man was crouching down and studying the flowers in front of him.

she looks down on her pinky finger again. and there, it glows.

the way the flowers danced once more made everything perfect. there was so much beauty that she felt it was out of this world. at this point, she felt butterflies in her stomach take over her and her emotions.

"woah..." she uttered under her breath, almost as if the scene in front of her had taken her breath away.

her finger landed on one of the petals, his fingertip barely brushing against hers as it was on the other side of the flower, put on another petal. she was so close, yet so far away; if she had only allowed herself to get closer, she might have been able to reach him.

she could've reached towards the beauty itself.

It wasn't the butterfly that drew her attention anymore; instead, it was his figure. His colourslors and build, his physical traits, with his fingertip almost brushing against hers.

Her gaze never broke from his, and as the bell rang again, those stunning eyes finally met hers.

glowing red string,  eyes locked, both bamboozled.

two individuals stare at each other seemingly bewitched to each other.

her, who is hauntingly beautiful, and him who's gorgeous as a porcelain doll...

in the midst of the serenic warmth of inazuma, summer joy filled atmosphere, two individuals are in chase of finding what this all means.

"it's you." he muttered under his breath, cursing at the fact that he feels the nervousness brimming to his nerves.

she shakily stood up, eyes wide in shock. and as funny as it is, she wore a white dress highlighting the fact that the muse in his paintings was not a product of his imagination but is actually his soulmate. this also highlights her beauty even more, with golden hues of warm sun pouring over her figure.

her e/c eyes scanned over his short stature, seemingly entranced at the doll-like features.

"you're pretty..." she breathed.

the first change of words was sure a bittersweet one.

to be entangled with someone forever was already a bittersweet fate.

and yet here they are, ready to face the pre-birth agreement they made...

TAGLIST (open) ; @sakiimeo

NOTES ; uuuuu im so tiredge // credits to yizheng ke on art station on slide one !!

smau by startographist! plagiarizing, distributing and translating without the author's permission is a violation against creative rights.

[calisources]

TAYLOR   JENKINS   REID   BOOK   QUOTES.   all   sentences   are   taken   from   various   of   taylor   jenkins   reid's   books.   mentions   of   sex,   marriage,cheating,   divorce,   soulmates   and   heartbreak.   change   names,   locations   and   pronouns   as   you   see   fit.

"People think that intimacy is about sex. But intimacy is about truth."

"When you realize you can tell someone your truth, when you can show yourself to them, when you stand in front of them bare and their response is 'you're safe with me'- that's intimacy."

"I had absolutely no interest in being somebody else's muse. I am not a muse. I am the somebody."

"Never let anyone make you feel ordinary."

“Men often think they deserve a sticker for treating women like people.”

“Don't ignore half of me so you can fit me into a box. Don't do that.”

“I’m under absolutely no obligation to make sense to you.”

“It’s always been fascinating to me how things can be simultaneously true and false, how people can be good and bad all in one, how someone can love you in a way that is beautifully selfless while serving themselves ruthlessly.”

“Sometimes reality comes crashing down on you. Other times reality simply waits, patiently, for you to run out of the energy it takes to deny it.”

“Heartbreak is a loss. Divorce is a piece of paper.”

“I spent half my time loving her and the other half hiding how much I loved her.”

“I think you have to have faith in people before they earn it. Otherwise it's not faith, right?”

“When you're given an opportunity to change your life, be ready to do whatever it takes to make it happen. The world doesn't give things, you take things.”

“Passion is...it's fire. And fire is great, man. But we're made of water. Water is how we keep living. Water is what we need to survive.”

“If she knew how often I was thinking about her, she wouldn't feel lonely.”

And my heart breaks for every single version of me that didn't end up with you.”

“No matter who you choose to go down the road with, you're gonna get hurt. That's just the nature of caring about someone. No matter who you love, they will break your heart along the way.”

“When you think of me, I hope it ruins rock 'n' roll”

“No one is just a victim or a victor. Everyone is somewhere in between.

“People are messy, and love can be ugly. I’m inclined to always err on the side of compassion.”

“Confidence is being okay being bad, not being okay being good.”

“How were you supposed to change- in ways both big and small- when your family was always there to remind you of exactly the person you apparently signed an ironclad contract to be?”

“You're all sorts of things you don't even know yet.”

“We love broken, beautiful people. And it doesn't get much more obviously broken and more classically beautiful than Daisy Jones.”

“We live in a world where exceptional women have to sit around waiting for mediocre men.”

“Just because something isn’t meant to last a lifetime doesn’t mean it wasn’t meant to be.”

“It hurts to care about someone more than they care about themselves.”

“Family is found...whether it be blood or circumstance or choice, what binds us does not matter. All that matters is that we are bound.”

“Nobody deserves anything,”

“It shouldn’t be wrong, to love you. How can it be wrong?”

“Isn’t it nice … once you’ve outgrown the ideas of what life should be and you just enjoy what it is.”

“Our family histories are simply stories. They are myths we create about the people who came before us, in order to make sense of ourselves.”

“I am absolutely positive that I need you more than I’ve ever needed another living soul,”

“If there are all different types of soul mates, then you are one of mine.”

“And taking pride in your beauty is a damning act. 

“Must be nice. To be able to be weak. I wouldn’t know.”

Better just to stay in the now and focus on what you can do better in the future.”

“Forgiveness is different from absolution.”

“There’s no room for you in my life anymore. And I don’t owe it to you to make any space.”

“That's what you do when you want something. You don't look for reasons why it won't work. You look for reasons why it will.”

“It's the ones who never loved you enough that come to you when you can't sleep. 

“Just because you can live without someone doesn’t mean you want to.”

“History is what you did, not what you almost did, not what you thought about doing. And I was proud of what I did”

“Alcoholism is a disease with many faces, and some of them look beautiful.”

I used to care when men called me difficult. I really did. Then I stopped. This way is better.”

“The truth often lies, unclaimed, in the middle.”

“I guess what I’m saying is it’s not all luck. It’s luck and being a son of a bitch.”

“But a good life is knowing people care about you, knowing you can take care of the people that count on you.”

“There was finally enough air within her for a fire to ignite.”

“Everything that made Daisy burn, made me burn. Everything I loved about the world, Daisy loved about the world. Everything I struggled with, Daisy struggled with. We were two halves. We were the same.”

“Love and pride don't mix.”

“I’m cynical and I’m bossy, and most people would consider me vaguely immoral.”

“When you find that rare person who really knows who you are and they still don't love you... I was burning.”

“Fate or not, our lives are still the results of our choices.”

“I have changed over time. That’s what people do.People aren’t stagnant. We evolve in reaction to our pleasures and our pains.”

“We are two people who are madly in love with our old selves. And that is not the same as being in love.”

“It’s a hard business, reconciling what the truth used to be with what the truth is now.”

But she was always the person I loved the most. She was always the person I would choose.

Water is how we keep living. Water is what we need to survive. My family was my water. I picked water. I'll pick water every time. And I wanted Daisy to find her water. Because I couldn't be it

“My heart hurts when you hurt because you are my heart.”

“You don’t need to find the perfect thing all the time. Just find one that works, and go with it.”

“You can only forgive yourself for the mistakes you made in the past once you know you’ll never make them again.”

“I'm not perfect. I'll never be perfect. I don't expect anything to be perfect. But things don't have to be perfect to be strong. 

“We loved each other and we lost each other. And now, even though we still love each other, the pieces don’t fit like they used to.”

“What's that saying? Behind every gorgeous woman, there's a man sick of screwing her? Well, it works both ways. No one mentions that part.”

“The Chosen ones never know they are chosen. They think everyone gets a gold carpet rolled out for them.”

“Your whole world can be falling apart, she thought, but then Springsteen will start playing on the radio.”

“Drunk words are sober thoughts,”

“...if you redeem yourself, then believe in your own redemption.”

“I want to be with someone who lives for me. I want to be with someone who considers me the love of her life. I deserve that.”

“No one goes around throwing caution to the wind unless the wind is blowing their way.”

“You are happier to have known him than you are sad to have lost him.”

“Love is forgiveness and patience and faith and every once in a while, it’s a gut punch.”

“It seems as if you see me exactly as I wish to be seen. There is no greater gift than that.”

“I've seen a lot of marriages where everyone is faithful and no one is happy.”

[ancunincurator]

Astarion musings #2

Adding on to a point I made in this post about Astarion planning to turn you when he ascends ever since he learned about the ritual's power...

Just to be clear, I don't think for one second Astarion plans to make you his spawn, not before he ascends. As power hungry as he is, that hunger comes from fear of being a pawn in someone else's chess game and needing to become king to keep from getting so easily kocked off the board. But he doesn't see you as a player looking to use him for your own gains. In fact, as stated by Durge's funky little butler, you're the only person in the world he isn't afraid of. But I believe he is afraid of losing you, in more ways than one, and so he plans to stop that from happening. And while his #1 goal is to ascend for his own sake, we know that he cares deeply about your safety too.

"I'm also worried about me, But somehow, I seem to be worried about you more." (He says this to Durge btw)

As manipulative as he is in Act 3, driven by proximity to Cazador and prospective freedom I assume, I think he fully intends to share his ascendant powers with you as equals so you can take on the world together. Forever. (Because forever sounds nice in the moment, but in 1000 years? We all know he hasn't thought that far ahead). This is before he knows the true cost, of course. When there's enough gaps in knowledge of the ritual to fill them in with fantasies.

You won't be a spawn, it will be different, you'll see it clearly when the time comes.

And even if we ignore his fear about losing the one thing that's brought him comfort in 200 years, there's also the fact he is the most insecure about not sleeping with you. About having nothing to offer other than "New burdens to carry". So what could be a better prospect than providing your lover with eternity and unfathomable new powers? Which is why I actually love that we have to persuade him not to ascend. He doesn't believe he is enough, but even with this new potential right there in his grasp, you tell him the same thing you always have:

That he is and always has been.

It's so important to portray how different life can be just by having the right people around to show you a new way. He's drowning in shame, fear, the potential of power. But you can be the hand reaching down to pull him back toward the surface to take his first breath of true freedom. It's also why I love that he doesn't drink from Cazador to become a true vampire (assuming he doesn't need Cazador's permission). Because it shows he's ready to accept who he is and isn't striving to be anything more.

Because of all this, more than anything ascended Astarion just makes me sad. I mean, I enjoy digging into the darkness of it. The potential of that storyline is so juicy and I love a monstrous vampire. But my fragile little human emotions get hurt when I see it. Ascension is a twisted wish. That desire to share power to keep a loved one safe becomes covetous. He could share it with you, but why create a competitor? While spawn and ascendant both fear losing you, spawn fears losing someone he loves, someone he's learning to live again with. Ascendant fears losing you because he's on a winning streak, it would sting his pride terribly if you were to leave. He didn't learn anything, he's still afraid. And while you're the only one he can trust, it's not unwavering. You'll belong to him or you're not worth the risk. Ascended Astarion literally says, if you refuse to become his spawn and break up with him, that you didn't become part of his conquest. As if you're something to beat into submission, subdue and take ownership of.

And I know ascended Astarion isn't some stranger who wears Astarion's face. He's what happens when you stop trying to be better, to be more than the hurt and the terrible things that happened to you. It's accepting the world view that's been beaten into you: that power is freedom, and freedom is doing whatever the hell you want without fear or consequence. And if you're not strong enough to take that power for yourself? Well, then perhaps you deserve to suffer, darling. It's a far easier way to cope with trauma than the alternative, to try and claw back any semblance of the world view that was beaten out of you, or create a new one for yourself. It's a path I've walked, am still walking, and I stumble all the time.

And as a side note, in regards to what Neil said about spawn wearing a mask... We all do. Sometimes it's to project who we want to be, or who we're trying our hardest to be. Sometimes it's to hide how bitter and wounded we feel. But better to wear a mask and try, to work towards a day when you won't need it anymore, then to throw it away because you've given into your worst self and the world can kneel or rot.

So yeah... I think Astarion always intended to turn you. But not always in the worst way. First it was out of love, then out of possession. But both times out of fear.

[aranostra]

ooc // Okay now that I've had some sleep (not enough, but some), I feel like I need to clarify some stuff for the Interview with the Vampire crowd. (I'm pretty sure that anon I got was somebody from the tags, not a mutual but... I still want to clarify for everyone.)

First, when I'm talking about characterization etc, I'm talking about the show. I write my iwtv muses from the show.

I am going to be critical of Lestat on this blog. It is not because I hate him or because I think he's the only one who does anything bad in the series. I might go a little harder on him, because fandom in general often likes to ignore what he does wrong, but please understand. I first read iwtv and tvl when I was 10 years old. I have loved Lestat that whole time. He is actually my favorite in the books. Being critical isn't an attack on him or anyone who likes him, it is just part of how I enjoy media.

Criticizing Lestat doesn't mean I think Armand or Louis or anyone else in the Vampire Show is innocent. They are fucking vampires, my guys. Especially Armand. He is like... the embodiment of sexual and religious trauma. He holds to doctrine that harms others. He lies and manipulates. I explain why he does what he does, because I know he can be difficult to understand, because he does some horrific things. I just won't pretend that he is the only character who's caused harm.

That said, I'm not going to pretend Lestat didn't do any of the terrible things he did to Louis. I'm not going to pretend Louis deserved any of it. Louis can be difficult and Louis has very deep depressive episodes and Louis has some issues he has not dealt with but... he did not deserve how Lestat treated him.

Also not pretending Armand didn't do anything terrible to Louis. They were more mutually terrible to each other, in my opinion, but terrible nonetheless. Yes, Armand was heavily involved with the trial, but I see no evidence in show canon that the scenario was very much like the book--and I see some evidence of big changes from the book. Lestat doesn't seem weak, and he doesn't seem to lift a finger to stop what's happening before it starts even though he knew what was going on enough for there to have been multiple rehearsals. Lestat and Armand could've stopped it at basically any time--Louis destroyed the whole coven when he'd just been half starved. You can't tell me Armand and Lestat, who are both more powerful, couldn't have done the same if they wanted. Armand and Lestat let the trial happen. They let Claudia die. They are equally culpable in my opinion. Of course, the show might retcon due to the nature of storytelling etc, but from what evidence we have, that is what I believe happened.

Lastly, Lestat (or anybody else) does not need to be fully in the right and good and pure and perfect to be a great fucking character. I love these characters. A lot. Enough to put up with years in and around a fandom I find very stressful and occasionally triggering. I literally own 5 versions of The Vampire Lestat. There's a reason I have tons of threads with Lestat writers. I love that egotistical jackass. Just... please know that I'm not going to ignore his faults, and I'm not going to twist everybody else's characterization to justify Lestat's nonsense.

Anyway, please feel free to talk to me directly if you want to talk out characterization things. I don't mind disagreeing; I just don't like responding to anons about this kind of thing given some of the shit that's happened in this fandom over the last 10+ years.

[godkilller]

SHIPPING INFO. answer the following for your muse(s) so people know how shipping works on your blog.

What’s your OTP for your Muse(s)?

I will always ship Ginran above all else, but Aigin is lovely too and has some spice to it -- and I could be convinced to dabble in other pairings considering activity's been sparse from my shipping partners (not their fault, life's tiring and I'm barely here too!) and Gin's a social butterfly. I've opened my eyes to the potential for Gin and Izuru, but on my terms and not at all in the fanon's direction. Ultimately people shouldn't try to ship with me unless they're mentally prepared for their character to be constantly contesting against Rangiku in terms of their importance to Gin. As a sidenote; Shipping Gin with an OC is nearly impossible, as he requires knowing someone since the dawn of time to ever consider developing feelings for them, and I'm not too keen on people inserting their OCs into my character's past solely to avoid doing the heavy lifting of courtship.

What are you willing to RP when it comes to shipping?

I'm not afraid of dipping into the toxicity of certain dynamics, nor am I one to ignore the cruelty that Gin can exude -- he's manipulative, possessive, and altogether a murderous obsessed freak. No amount of unconventional devotion can hide the darker parts of him, though I am also one to enjoy writing Gin experiencing and attempting domesticity and the softness that comes with it. I'm flexible.

How large does the age gap have to be to make it uncomfortable?

Shinigami age-gap discussions are tricky, especially the whole 'Tite forgot how old this person was / how ageing works' undertones with some of his characters (Hiyori is the same age as Gin????? Hello?), but basically I don't want anything to do with creepy shit, thanks. If Gin can comfortably punt your character into the stratosphere because they're snack-sized then he doesn't want them sexually or in any manner.

Are you selective when shipping?

ABSOLUTELY. Gin can get the ick, no matter how hypocritical he is for getting it, simply because your character didn't reply 'right' to his throwaway comment. Gin gets bored easily; if your character isn't as smart or smarter than him (and I mean that in a cunning / well-rounded way, not a 'this character knows everything that could possibly be known about the development of spoons throughout history' or some sort of thesaurus-vomit of them trying to sound super smart to him, he'll immediately become violently unimpressed he'd sooner gut himself with Shinso than finish a conversation with them) or your character is immensely weaker than him, then he isn't interested. Gin requires being challenged. Both Rangiku and Aizen challenge Gin pretty outright in different ways. Keep him on his toes, push and pull at him, make him want to pick you apart. Don't bore him.

How far do steamy moments have to go before they’re considered NSFW?

I don't tend to tag things until it's literally inappropriate if it was a visual medium instead. Kissing and clothed touching, even if in raunchy positions, aren't NSFW to me -- I expect everyone following me to understand my blog is an adult space. Tags won't come out till genitals get involved. If people read the written word 'nipple' over your shoulder from ten feet away and get you into hot water then you gotta tell me where they get their superior hawk-esque eyesight from, I'd like a slice.

Who are other muses you ship your muse with?

Just Rangiku and Aizen for now, but as I said before I am opening up to the potential for Gin and Izuru. Gin and Byakuya is hilarious, too, and I've made jokes in the past about Gin and Kenpachi. Pfft. It's hard to ship Gin with other female characters in Bleach considering Orihime's a human teenager, no thanks, and Rukia hates his guts and Gin clearly didn't like her either so it'd be a hateship purely, Harribel and Gin never exchange actual canon dialogue, Unohana is way older than him and probably thinks he's an amateur at murderous intent, the Zero Squad ladies only exist after he's canonly dead, Hinamori's a whole child and is traumatized by his Aizen-killing/not killing stunt, Tatsuki is a lesbian human teenager, Soifon is laughably a lesbian so pent up she might explode if a man ever tries to lay a hand on her, Yoruichi is too close to / complicit with Hogyoku-maker Urahara Kisuke whom Gin loathes for inspiring Aizen to steal a piece of Rangiku's soul, Nemu is too busy being Mayuri's... whatever the fuck, Isane would faint if Gin opened his eyes once at her, Hiyori is literally split in half by him and she's a literal child, Yachiru is a literal child, Lisa is also at least bi-woman preference if not fully a lesbian, Kukaku probably hates Gin's guts ever since he lopped off Jidanbo's arm at the gate because that's a sore subject for her, Kiyone is a literal child, Sung-sun is too boringly quiet and weak for his tastes, Loly isn't quiet enough and is too weak, Apacci is even worse, Mila Rose is on thin ice too, all of the Femritters are introduced after Gin's dead so we'll never know for sure if he'd even tolerate their girlbosses-don't-look-at-explosions-then-get-stupidly-defeated act, oh god who am I forgetting -- I want y'all to know I had to stop here to Google it and for some reason in the list of all female Bleach characters, somehow, Omaeda is on the list at the very bottom.... congratulations on your transition <333

Anyway long story short I don't think Gin's very compatible with the existing female Bleach cast, hence my various male/male ships instead. Gin's fluid. I acknowledge and approach shipping with the assumption that most if not all Bleach canons probably think Gin's gross or deplorable or both. But hey, I have a soft spot for writing enemies-to-lovers.

Does one have to ask to ship with you?

Yes because otherwise I'll just stew in the possibilities and assume it's one-sided and never bring anything up 'cause I don't wanna freak people out. But please keep in mind I am very picky because Gin himself is even pickier. You may be rejected ultimately, and it's really not something that's personal with me. A better approach would be the age-old, tried and true method of jokingly saying 'wouldn't it be funny if they caught feelings?' at me and then we spiral together from there. I'm not open for that currently, but in the future perhaps.

How often do you like to ship?

I kinda wanna only ship things if it's been earned -- we put in the work, things escalated naturally, and then we're exploring the dynamic thoroughly from there instead of just jumping to the juiciest parts first. I am a patient person, Gin is too, we're not about to pounce on somebody just because they stuck their leggy up real high. I'm a previously single-ship-only kinda guy, I yearn for that commitment.

Are you multiship?

I am duo-ship at the moment, with the possibility of opening up from that in the future -- so technically yes. I approach things though with a strict refusal to write cheating, so everything is a separate verse. Gin isn't sleeping with Rangiku and then tiptoeing to Aizen's room after, I refuse to do that sort of shit. Gin's all-or-nothing and so am I, so expect that if I ever do multiship -- it'll probably not be willy-nilly, I'll be severely selective.

Are you ship obsessed or ship more-or-less?

Daydreaming about dynamics is my bread and butter. I'll be cooking up entire scenarios on my own while watching paint dry, my mind knows no limits and the links to musing posts/quotes/aesthetics/tiktoks that make me think of our characters together merely scratch the surface. If a ship hits right it consumes me.

What is your favorite ship in your current fandom?

I'm a sucker for Ginran, Aigin, Ulquihime, Shunuki, Ichiruki, Grimmjow and anybody really, Ichihime, Mayuri and permanent death, Ishihime, Rangiku and genuine happiness, whatever the ship name for Urahara and Yoruichi is, Aizen and touching grass instead of committing atrocities. I could be down for Gin and Izuru, I also think Kenpachi and Byakuya make a funny / cute pair. I'd also die for the ship I have with @madestars with their OC Hotaru and Gin's daughter Keiko.

Finally, how does one ship with you?

Hit me on the head with a brick irl.

tagged by : @despairforme

tagging: @dokuhai, @keikakudori, @madestars / @rejekshun, @gyakusama / @owabisuru, and anybody else!

[rielzero]

Fangs

Just some musings with freshly turned Vampire Locke (act 3) Drabbles might not be used in my comic eventually but can be spoilery for future comics.

It's a little quiet this time around, elfsong inn. The party of The Absolute Adversaries (Not officially named), is going through a rest day.. But the unusual silence leaves some awkwardness in the air.

It's barely noticed by the party leader, Locke, who's part of the reasoning for the silence. He can barely focus on anything at the moment, overwhelmed by new sensations. He's curled up on Astarion's bed, uncomfortable.

His fingers are pinching down the bridge of his nose, fighting vertigo caused by the smells that presumably are his companion's body odor. Locke's never really paid that much attention to anyone's musk before, but he isn't exactly trying to now either.

''I can't stand it.'' He mumbles, rolling on his side before sitting up. Gale eyes him with a worried glance. ''I thought the quiet was rather nice, or..'' He raises his brow. ''You look nauseous-''

Ignoring the wizard, he stumbles forward, then sideways, grabbing the green little door to the bathroom next to Astarion's bed. He plunges inside, eyes darting for the barrel of water that was stored here.

Astarion looks up to him with surprise, holding a small perfume bottle in his hand. ''Dear?'' Locke says nothing, one-track-minded, he stumbles towards the barrel, opens the lid by force and submerges his head in it. ''If you wanted a bath, this isn't exactly..'' Astarion sighs and closes the door behind him, then puts his perfume bottle on the sink.

He gently reaches a hand to touch Locke's shoulder. ''Darling.. If you stop breathing, Karlach's going to freak out again.'' He strokes patterns over his back. ''Just because you can't drown as an undead doesn't mean water in your lungs is any more pleasant, the average vampire can't exactly swim. Not that you're anything like average, but..''

Locke quietly raises his head from the water, his eyeliner had begun to dissolve, creating lines over his cheeks. Its almost as if he'd been crying the past hour, if not the lack for red swollen eyelids.

''Hi.'' Is the only response he can muster, partially out of it.

''Tut, tut.'' Astarion grabs him by the shoulders and pushes him on the ground, making him sit. Then he sits down next to him.

''Do you.. Smell that? All that? All the time?'' Locke whispers after a while.

''I've said so previously, yes. I can't exactly turn it off.'' Astarion wipes some of the wetness off Locke's brow while he continues. ''There's ways of filtering it out, a strong perfume is one of them.''

Locke instinctively sniffs at Astarion, then inhales. ''Oh.'' ''You pick up things faster than you think you do, sometimes.'' The newly crowned vampire lord says with a chuckle.

There's a silence, in which Locke quietly stares at Astarion, or through him almost. His eyes unfocussed. He sniffs again.

''I can't smell the others.'' With a relief the half elf untenses and slowly glides onto the floor, stretching.

''Yes, yes, but you can't hide in the bathroom with me all day.''

''Says the one that has been in here since the morning..''

''To hide from the glares, maybe.. But I was busy making perfume.''

''I can see that..''

''These things take time! I'm very particular about-''

Locke yawns with a wide open mouth, leaving Astarion in a daze. He looks at the other bewitched. ''The perfume is for you.''

Locke blinks. ''It is? Oh!''

What could this smell be.. It's not bergamot and rosemary, not too sweet or bitter. But definitely sweet, woodsy. Soapy? Floral? Locke recognizes it, Lavender. Mixed with something else, he can't tell what.

''And the bathroom is coated in it, surely Gale won't mind.'' There's a shifting behind the bathroom door, he had been listening in. Gale had felt a little left out lately..

Not that he wanted to admit it directly, but Locke kind of enjoyed little breaks like these. No fighting, exploring, no sorting supplies, ordering people around or planning ahead. No doomsday visions, no absolute crisis bullshit. Just him, and his friends and lovers lazing around doing absolutely nothing except some much needed bonding. He contemplated opening the door to drag Gale in, but couldn't get his body to move, so Locke slumps a bit further against the wall with closed eyes.

After a short forever he can feel Astarion's hand creep under his chin, quietly pressing open his mouth. Locke's lips twitch, expecting a kiss.

Confused, he opens his eyes to see Astarion examine his teeth with obsessive fascination. Why? Is there something stuck?

Locke says nothing, slightly amused, observing Astarion's eye movement. The high elf then rubs a thumb over one of Locke's canine's smooth side, to prevent cutting himself. Jokingly, Locke closes his mouth and suckles Astarion's finger.

Astarion snaps out of his daze and withdraws his hand. ''I didn't bite you.'' Locke snorts. ''I'm not going to do that for a long time.'' He blinks at the other, who know quietly processes his thoughts.

''I was just trying to see if they're smaller than mine.''

''You're comparing fang sizes?''

''Mine grew a little after the ritual, I was simply making an observation.''

Locke could tell Astarion wasn't fully being honest. It wasn't exactly a lie either, however.. ''You look at me with pride like an artist proud of something they've created.''

''You are.''

''Okay mommy, you don't need to rub it in.''

Astarion pushes a hand to his own chest and makes a dramatic gasp. ''How dare! Watch your tongue with the dirty talk. Such heresy!''

Locke eyes the door, hearing Gale's snickering. ''Shh, I think we have voyeurs watching through the keyhole. ''

''Hmm. Wouldn't that be.. Scandalous?'' Astarion speaks in an inviting tone.

Gale quietly opens the door, bringing in a waft of old dusty book smell. Locke flinches, but is calmed down by the perfume.

''What the- Why is it so flowery..? That's strong.. By the.. Huh. It's kind of lovely.'' Gale hangs against the door, observing the two.

''Apparently that's my new musk.'' Locke shrugs, eyeing Astarion for a reaction.

''Must you call everything a ''musk'' ? A perfume is a little more.. Shall we say, fine and dandy? Dainty?''

''I thought you were baldurian.'' Locke blinks.

''Proper. Cultured. Educated!''

''Respectfully, love, I am not educated.'' Locke grins with the same mischief he's worn on his face the past few days.

''You're not?!'' Gale blinks. ''Of- Of course you're not.. I should've realized by now, how presumptuous of me.''

''Aaaand now you're just insulting me again, boohoo rich wizard tower boy.''

Astarion chuckles, but thinks about the exchange for a little longer. With the funds from Cazador's estate, he could hire some private tutors for Locke.. Should he want to learn anything he's missed in his awful childhood. At his age, he could probably really use it..

Astarion watches Gale awkwardly struggle to explain the difference between an aimed mockery and stating something that is plainly true in a longwinded rant, before he decides to cut in again, only to stop before he can utter a word.

Locke lets out another yawn, a longer one this time. ''Oh you were just making fun, weren't you?'' Gale lets out a relieved sigh, but notices Astarion's intense stare.

''Hmm, they're definitely on the more petite side.'' Astarion grabs Locke's face mid yawn to turn him to the side.

''What?'' Gale blinks.

''His fangs. They're petite.''

''He means smaller.''

''I.. I know what he means, Locke.''

''I'm not that delicate- Godsdamnit. You expecting me to chip a tooth or something?''

''Darling, if you chip a tooth, I'm going to kill someone. Can't have cattle damage your adorable little fangs.''

Locke starts pouting, ''Little?!'' he pulls his mouth open with his fingers to show his teeth better. ''I cawn bwite off swomeone's fwongers and twhoat weeth theese!''

Astarion's eyes widen. He cups Locke's cheeks.

''And you've just given him the perfect view..'' Gale takes a mental note, vampire lords get obsessed with.. Their spawn's fangs apparently. That, or Astarion really wants him to sink his teeth in him. It's a bit weird. But also.. Adoring.

''You three having fun in there?'' Karlach concernedly peeks around the corner, raising a brow at the sight.

''Just casual dentistry, nothing unordinary.'' Astarion releases Locke from his grasp again.

''..Okkayy, whatever you say. Fangs.'' She pauses. ''There's two fangs now.. Hmm. I need to come up with better nicknames.''

Locke mumbles quietly under his breath. ''Petite he says.. Hmph.''

Unfortunately for him, Karlach heard that.. And would proceed to differenate the two with that addition from then on.

Oh, the quiet days.

[confessionsofa-roleplayer]

I want to ask a mutual of mine if I've done something wrong or if I've upset them in some way but I'm not quite sure what I've done. I'm trying to ignore it as me just being overly senstive about things I just so happen to catch here and there but it honestly feels like I'm not… as important as their other mutuals? And this isn't coming of a place of "oh I've wanted to interact with them and they're "ignoring" me." It's coming from a place of me investing so much time into plotting with them and like.. throwing ideas at them for things about their muse. Letting them word vomit at me about stuff that's on their mind. Communicating with them when I can. And I feel like despite that, I've taken a back burner because it doesn't really seem like they are at all interested in anything I would like to talk about nowadays. I've even tried to offer up different muses of mine when they come up for fresh and new dynamics and the conversation dies after one or two messages. And it's making me very sad because where is the enthusiasm for me? Why is it reserved for everyone else but me? Why do my replies and responses and asks get overlooked but other's don't. Im not expecting them to be blowing up my dms in the very slightest but I feel like a lot of the issues that crop up between mutuals and feeling like they're being discarded is this. I can understand not wanting to be mean and not wanting to hurt someone's feelings but it hurts more when you think you're going to get at least a small fraction of what you're giving to someone and it ends up not being that. Even the most well meaning people do it because everyone is chasing attention. I'm not mad so much as I am just… sad.