#AOS related musings

[fractalcloning]

As I scream into the void seeking a Narek RPer to play against, I have finally caved and must explain why I want this Romulan loungelizard to be more popular. (It won't happen, but I can dream.)

Reasons I like Narek as a character that nobody but me gives a shit about:

Let me preface this with a fact about me: I know Romulans.

I've RPed as Nero for almost two straight years in a large game. I've basically learned Rihannsu back to front for the endeavor. The person who played my Ayel and I both dumped countless hours into developing grammar and extrapolating cultural rules. We were dedicated to making them as believeable and accurate to canon as possible.

I have the whole timeline of the destruction of Hobus/Romulus down to memory. I know about all the neat little tidbits and trivia from comics and adjacent materials etc, etc.

This is to say: I have read and written quite a lot about Romulans in my time. I am very familiar with how they work and what data is available to draw from when writing them.

We do meet a few rank and file military Romulans from time to time, however. So we know how the general military operates in direct contrast to the Tal'Shiar. Caution and secrecy is sort of baked into their culture, which makes a lot of sense given that they're constantly at war with basically everyone, but they aren't (generally) unreasonable people.

In canon Trek, Romulans are often a little over the top with the sneaky-backstabbing-untrustworthy-nonsense. They're almost comical with how much scheming they do, but most of the Romulans we meet in canon are Tal'Shiar. The Tal'Shiar are known, pretty explicitly for the depth and breadth of their sneaky-backstabbing-untrustworthy-nonsense. It's kind of their whole deal, apart from mnhei'sahe (literally the ruling passion honor).

Narek, however, was a child when Hobus went supernova. He is from the very last generation that had any living memory of Romulus. (Elnor is also from this generation and they are great foils for each other, but that's another essay.) Narek is from a (presumably) respected family of--if not Tal'Shiar then Military--operatives. His aunt held high rank, his sister did as well, and both were inducted into the Zhat Vash, an organization that worked so quietly and efficiently that even the famously paranoid Tal'Shiar thought they were a myth. They orchestrated catastrophes and manipulated Galactic law to their ends, one of their members was the head of Starfleet Security and Narissa was on a personal basis with her.

Their underlying culture is present, but it isn't explored very deeply in any one canon source. Taken collectively, however, it is just as substantial as Klingon Battle-lust or Ferengi Capitalism.

Nero was a break from the norm, not because he was vengeful, but because he was the first non-military Romulan we'd ever really seen. His designs, the tattoos, the crew of his ship with their very un-Romulan loyalty, the way he talked and sought equivalent exchange of lives (mnhei'sahe), was a wealth of Romulan culture that we hadn't ever seen. He was a regular Joe, had a regular non-Military job, trusted and worked with aliens to try and save lives. His failure (not his fault) was something he absorbed and sought to rectify in the Romulan way.

Nero was super interesting both for how much detail he cast on Romulan culture, and in how he slotted into the Prime Timeline. Nero was a guy desperately clinging to hope, to the last vestiges of his civilian life, but he was cut free by the destruction of Romulus and set adrift. The only anchor he had in the AOS timeline was his honor and the driving need to balance the scales and restore it.

Narek, however privledge his family was, was a washout. He was a failure. We know he wasn't Zhat Vash, and whether he was even Tal'Shiar is up for some serious speculation. He doesn't act like military officers, and only seems to be play-acting as a Tal'Shiar, miming his sister when it suits him.

Narek may have had authority on the Artifact, but it was probably by dint of Oh granting it. We never get any clarification whatsoever about his rank or dayjob, just that he is fully devoted to helping the Zhat Vash. He is analytical, prepared, but he is not good at thinking on his feet and clearly does his planning off screen. He's meticulous but not especially skilled at hiding or regulating his emotional state. He is far less aggressive and stalwart than just about every other Romulan we've seen...except for Nero.

He was literally a placeholder sent to keep tabs on Soji. He didn't even arrive until Narissa had failed to capture Dahj. That Narek managed to get close to Soji, that he discovered her dreams and correctly surmised what they are, was more luck than skill. Before his assessments the Zhat Vash knew that Dahj (and Soji) could be activated out of their cover, but they assumed that they could capture them. They probably assumed they could torture the data out of them, if not dissect them and rip out a harddrive.

Narek found an easy way to get right to the information they needed. His attachment to Romulan culture is his puzzlebox--Before Nero we had never met a Romulan civilian and before Narek we have never met a cultural Romulan who plays with a toy, we had never seen a child's toy like that. Of course, the puzzlebox (Tan Zhekran) was a mechanism to illustrate his thought process, to make the differences between Narissa and him very apparent, but it was also something from his childhood (presumably). It's a weirdly personal affect for a Romulan and he fidgets with it almost constantly. It's a tell, something he shouldn't have, and it makes him accessible on an emotional level.

Narek is a civilian.

He's a civilian in a family of spies and operatives, raised alongside his sister on the same stories, with the same care. There's no way a Zhat Vash didn't have a family home on Romulus. While Elnor is a nice example of the new generation of Romulans, Narek is one of the last examples of what is used to mean to be a Romulan. He saw Romulus and escaped with all his surviving family when it as it was destroyed. Narek was raised on Romulan tradition (private names for family), Romulan stories about the end of the world, and he is haunted by them because he knows they're true, they're real. His sister and aunt have seen it, seen the message that drives people mad, about Ganmadan. His living relatives have dedicated their lives to preventing it and, even if he isn't actually Zhat Vash, he does the same.

Narek is a failure, by his culture's standards, by his family's standards, but he is also the only one of them who lives in the end.

He's a civilian who is trying, desperately, to avert another Romulan apocalypse. He has already lived through one and somehow this next one is even worse. Like Nero he sees the writing on the wall--but instead of doubling down on the traditional sneaky spy shit, he tries something new--unlike Nero, it works! He makes headway where nobody else could.

Unfortunately, it's kinda fucked up, but he then gives up everything in the pursuit of this goal. (Which to him, seems like a noble one.) Narek gives up who he is (by playing at being Tal Shiar), his safety (he has no idea what Soji is capable of or what might set her off, they only have records of Dahj killing a dozen agents before being blown up), and eventually resigns himself to killing the woman he's fallen in love with (the baseline requirement for giving out his real name). He does it all for the greater good, to save people and he doesn't seem to make much of a distinction between Romulan and other organic lives. He has his little plans, tracking La Sirena in a single cloaked ship, hiding his presence to tail them, firing on them despite being wholly outmatched, allying with Sutra however temporarily, trying to sway Soji again, turning to Rios, Raffi, and Elnor for help--he's willing to do anything because he's terrified that everything is about to end and it will be him who failed to prevent it.

The very last shot we see of him, after his plan to detonate the transmitter fails completely, is him on the ground being dragged away by the Coppelius androids. He doesn't posture or threaten, doesn't say ominous shit like the other Romulans we're used to--He begs. He claws at the ground, trying to stay, and he begs. He pleads with Soji, calls her his love, tries that last ditch hail mary because it's all he can do. He fails his task and she's the last person he can reach out to and, in the end, despite the very real threat to her life, Planet, and Picard, Soji smashes the transmitter. The apocalypse is averted.

Narek failed but he also succeeded. His aunt is dead, Oh has been outed as a traitor, and his sister is killed by Seven of Nine. In a cut scene, apparently, Narek was supposed to be arrested by Starfleet. So he's facing (at the very least) retribution from the androids and the ExBorg. Starfleet is very likely to arrest and interrogate him, if not imprison him indefinitely since he has ties to the Zhat Vash and, subsequently, will be on the hook to explain the Utopia Planetia disaster. Soji hates him, for good reason, and his homeworld is long gone. Narek has nothing...but the world was saved.

Narek is singular because he's all about needing and interacting with other people, he has no real authority, nobody he commands. He's a civilian (insofar as any Romulan can be) and is a soft, emotional boy who hangs on to his childhood toys. He's driven in equal parts by fear and a deep sense of failure, like everyone else in the show, and he takes the steps that seem right and necessary to him (also like everyone else on the show).

Narek was a great contrast against Elnor in every possible way--from his evasiveness to his fear of death--and he was a great foil for Soji. On Coppelius, Soji's terror clouds her judgment and she very nearly does terrible things to protect herself. Her actions, her opinions, her hesitation were all driven by fear. The ends seemed to justify the means. She reflects Narek's state for the whole show. Season 1 is about finding safety and meaning.

Narek is afraid for the whole duration of the show and his choices all reflect that same desperate need to find permanent safety, to live. Soji exists on the peripheral of that with the Ex-Borg, and as a synthetic, and then she falls headlong into it after his betrayal. Narek regrets trying to kill her and the symbolism of his losing that box, of him trying to kill her in a room that is so very culturally Romulan, right after telling her his name, makes it very clear that killing her is killing some piece of himself. But the ends justify the means. He can and will give up everything to save the world.

And his last line in the show is desperately pleading with the woman he loves as he's dragged away.

Then we never see him again or get anything resembling closure for Soji or Narek.

Which I will be big mad about forever, because they didn't even get the bare minimum acknowledgement and closure of "moving on and living life is paramount because it is finite and beautiful ". Nope. Nothing. I'm furious forever.

Thank you for coming to my TED talk. I hope if Star Trek Legacy happens we get Narek as a sort of...side character creeper informant ala Garak. I also hope we get Soji on Seven's Enterprise because I love her.

[alexandriteobscuraarchive]

((Father Gray in the newest chapters though... ;;; ))

[gladiatorcunt]

summary: king!aegon ii targaryen x afab rhaenyra’s child!reader

cw: CANON TYPICAL incest/targcest, boot worship, free use, public, voyeurism/exhibitionism (non con on the guards part 💀), hints of reader being just as much of a weirdo i’m sorry (rhaenyra can’t blame them tho), used a valyrian translator so if there’s any mistakes no there’s not <3, fucking on the iron throne as a celebratory end of work day thing, everything is 100% consensual on reader’s part, one use of “whore”, aegon’s pet names are all food related 🥴 (deadass almost had him call reader beer for the joke)

wc: 888 (🎱✨)

block & move on if uncomfortable !!

do not repost, translate, or give ai my work

last hotd fic for a bit bc i’m out of ideas

kinktober masterlist

“Ry paktot, ilagon ao jikagon, jorrāelagon (all right, down you go love).”

You and your uncle Aegon have the strangest end of day ritual. It always starts with you being shoved on your knees, his hands cradling your shoulders to protect you from the sharp iron throne.

All others are sent away from the room, save for a few guards that had been eyeing your body far too much for his liking. You were yet to be married but numerous whispers of your sexual exploits ran through the castle like wildfire. Aegon II Targaryen, was a king that one could not even sneeze in front of for fear of setting him off. So he is careful to keep those shrews' musings away from you, it was a feat of strength to coerce you into being as bold as you are now.

“Come now, elilla (honey). Clean my shoes so i can give your cunt the fucking it deserves.” He orders you, and you are all too eager, especially with the eyes of the uncomfortable guards on you.

You pray to the Gods that Aegon does not catch them looking with their peripheral vision, pausing your fun to murder more of the staff would really rain on your parade.

The shoes of your king are cleaned before you put your tongue to them, something that you’re almost disappointed by at this point. You are tempted to ask him to turn away the shoe shiner for next time.

His crown has the same red haze surrounding it that lives deep within Aegon, and it commands your attention all the same. You let your eyes softly fall shut as you run your wet tongue along the edge of his boot. The metallic tang has become an old friend, as well as any paltry specs of blood you find. You fear that you could possibly develop a craving for it.

You prostrate yourself before your betrothed as if you were a humming bird that had come face to face with Balerion himself. A house kitten mewling for the attention of a tiger. It is not unlike performing a blow job. Your lashes become the sheer curtains you look out of and your mouth fulfills its purpose.

You flatten your tongue and begin to dip into the crevices, getting every inch of his shoes slick with your spit. Aegon has his weeping cock in the firm hold of both of his hands, and he times his strokes to every flick of your tongue.

Your “services” last for what feels like an eternity. Your uncle’s eyes wander to keep the forcibly voyeuristic guards in check. You can hear their feet shuffling on the ground as they squirm behind you, and Aegon is so pleased by this that he returns his attention to his beloved pet.

“Prūbres (apple), that is quite enough. Come back up, darling.” He says while gingerly rubbing the heel of his boot into your cheek.

“Yes, qȳbor (uncle).”

You clamor into his lap, taking the initiative by lifting your previously stretched hole over his cock. One of his hands claws into the flesh of your hip to steady you, and the other positions his cock upright. Once you get past the pink tip, your walls are snugly wrapped around his entire length in seconds. You both groan as he bottoms out. Aegon wastes no time and digs his nails into your other hip, lifting you off of his cock until the tip catches against your entrance and swiftly dropping you back down.

“My whore, a jewel worth more than any found in my crown.” The word comes out between gritted teeth, but the thumb drawing loose circles on your pearl is kinder. “Not one of those filthy dogs will ever know the pleasure of a cunny as sweet as the one made for me.”

“They will not.” You whined, relishing in the red marks his nails were no doubt leaving on your jiggling ass as you bounced on his girthy cock. “Only you, qȳbor (uncle), only my king. They could hang for all I care.”

You have an awful habit for letting words flow from your mouth with no thought of their consequences. It’s not your fault though, you muse as Aegon scratches at your moving globes of flesh, your cunt takes priority more often than not. You ignore the spark that ignites in his soul at the foolish declaration.

His thumb stops teasing your clit and rubs it harshly up and down until your rapid bouncing ceases in favor of chasing that high. He only has to spank you a single time for you to shatter around his cock with an angelic and blissfully soft moan. You let your torso fall to his and you bury your face in his neck as his other hand travels to grope your other ass cheek.

Aegon spills into you with an embarrassingly long and loud groan, licking at the pulse point of your neck as he fucks himself into overstimulation. This is the only time he will allow the guards to drink your sex in, so they can gawk at the pure amount of spend that leaks out of your ravaged cunny. He pretends not to notice or enjoy the stares, spreading your fat cheeks to give them a better view.

“Leave us be.”

[just-some-random-blogger]

Hey gorgeous,

Would you be up for some angst ?

Maybe his niece (rhaenyras younger sister) was always the negleted child and after sometime she gets to be known as one of the greatest targaryens (she claims cannibal and is a beast when it comes to fighting and being a ruler) and she comes to the last dinner before her father dies and sleeps with daemon (who previously in her childhood made her feel worthless)

And when she avoids him after, he goes to her and shes like:

-Just so you know, that meant nothing

-what if it meant everything to me?

-not my problem

All I Ever Wanted

Daemon Targaryen x Targaryen!Reader

Summary: The gods have weighed the scales, now you were only paying everyone their dues. It felt nice to hold the upper hand against your uncle for once.

Word Count: 1k+

Warnings: mentions/depictions of targcest (uncle and niece), fem!reader, mentions/allusions to sex, angst, bad fam relations, typos, etc.

A/N: idk im tired i hope you like it nonnie. i changed a bunch of stuff about the fic req so T_T i cant believe i managed to make it so long HAHHAHAHH Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace @deniixlovezelda @targaryenmoony

Daemon could not believe it.

He could not believe that he woke up by himself.

He was soaking in his smugness, dripping with self-accomplishment and victory, eagerly rolling over to coo his musings of self-importance to his prey.

Yet you were gone.

And he did not understand it.

He did not appreciate the bile that was threatening to be regurgitated out of his pallet. A line grew between his brows as he ripped his blanket off. He roughly dressed himself in breeches and a shirt, then stormed out of this chambers.

Part of him was relieved to find you so quickly, another part was in pure offence to how nonchalant you acted in the gardens, eating a pear as you read a book.

"Skoro syt issi ao kesīr sīr early isse se ñāqatubis?" Daemon cut through your concentration on your page. You turned to him halfway through his sentence, full mouth slowing in its chewing.

"What do you mean 'why are you here so early in the morning', uncle?" you narrow your eyes, shaking the hanging foot from your crossed leg. The heavy, red velvet of your skirt barely moved at your actions.

Daemon walks over to you, unkempt long, platinum hair blowing with the morning breeze along with his loose shirt, "you should have woken up with me."

You watch him as he nears. When he reaches the bench you were sat upon, you bring your book to your lap, one hand in between the pages of where you stopped reading, "and why should I have done so, uncle?"

The tone in which you say this with simultaneously angers and excites Daemon. He adores a good challenge. You both know that.

The prince reaches out to your face, tilting your head up to him, "I'm not done with you, niece."

You roll your eyes. He chuckles as you stand.

You thoughtlessly discard the core of the fruit to the side and release your grip on your book in order to clamp it under your arm, "iksis ziry daor obvious bona iksan tetan lēda ao?"

Daemon stills. He watches as you, his sweet little niece, defiantly staring at him. You spat such words as 'is it not obvious that I am finished with you?' to him? Your uncle? Your star? He who you viewed as holy as the Seven you were so devout to? No. This surely was a jest. A game of cat and mouse.

Daemon's lips curve into a lopsided grin. He opens his mouth to join in the banter, and yet he was not given an opportunity to speak.

"I will leave now, since you're clearly persistent to bother me," you coldly say, moving past him in all audacity.

A scoff actually leaves him because of this. He catches your arm, lowly and dryly chuckling, "rūda lēda aōha tymptir, byka genes."

Quit with your game, little mouse.

"I'm not playing, and I'm not a mouse," you snip, pulling your arm out of his grip.

Now you were both looking at each other with furrowed brows, equally long and light air wafting with the wind.

"I got what I wanted from you, Daemon."

You word this so plainly, so carelessly, and yet it pokes at him, makes his insides churn.

"I've scratched my itch. I've satiated my curiously," you release the tension between your brows to contort your face into scorn, "I've unraveled you, and found you're just another man-- greedy, self-absorbed, and cannot show for all the talk they give."

Daemon scoffs, eyes narrowing. He steps closer, raising his nose as he lets your words get under his skin, "it is too early to toy with me like this."

The eyeroll you give strikes a chord in him as you mutter, "ah, kepus, ao sagon getting uēpa. Ȳdra daor ao jiōragon ziry?" Oh, uncle, you're getting old. Don't you get it? The hardness in his face falters when you continue, "there's no game between us. There's nothing."

Daemon pulls his head back. No. That's not you.

You slowly shake you're head, ratifying, "Iksan gaomagon lēda ao."

I'm done with you.

But who were you?

Last night, the young girl he used to braid the hair of burst into the hall, uninvited, with purpose. His decaying brother, Viserys, and the Hightower bitch was shocked, even your sister, Rhaenyra, was. Daemon, though, was amused by the the theatrics and whispered this your ear, telling you that you copied him.

It was clear when you replied, "except I was not exiled, uncle. I left and returned on my own will. Something you have never done and never will," that you were not that little girl anymore.

He watched you as you moved, as you carried yourself in the room with not a hint of reluctance. You came as... a woman. A woman.

His breath caught in his lungs as you recounted your stories with your beloved Cannibal, much to the aghast looks of others. He was not one of those who laughed at the notion your frailer version gave of claiming the dragon, and yet still, he could hardly believe the words that you surely uttered by your bitten lips himself.

Oh, your lips that then mused more private stories for his ears only later that night, your lips that he then took between his teeth even later, and that he then made to call out his name in the early mornings.

Who were you now?

That woman was not here. You were not the warrior that claimed the dragon, the vixen that clamed his soul, and, sure by the gods, not the little girl that claimed all eagerness to please everyone around her.

Who were you, you who was looking down at him, as though it was not he that read you bedtime stories, he that gave you treats under the banquet table, he that make you come undone beneath him last night?

How dare you discard him?

Daemon regains his gall, "I'm not done with you, niece."

You don't even look at him when you say, "I don't care," and walk away with that stupid book in your hands.

His nostrils flare. "Don't you fucking walk away from me," he quips, unwilling to chase, unwilling to bend or beg.

He watches as you make your way farther.

Against himself, in a brand of desperation, he hastens after you, grabbing your arm, pulling you back to face him. He heaves at your idle gaze, "you've worn my patience."

"It's only fair," you purse your lips, "you worn my time for nothing."

One of Daemon's eyes twitches.

"Bullshit," he chuckles.

You shrug and it enrages him.

It is bullshit and you both know it. And yet somehow, he's beaten to the punch again. He's left defenseless before his little niece and it's ripping at his seams.

"I honestly expected more from you, uncle," you pout, "but then again, I only thought so highly of you because I was a naïve child, just like you said I was all those years ago."

Daemon could not even respond as you hypnotize him by pushing his hair behind his ear, "I've met many men whilst my travels with Cannibal. Though I did appreciate your company, I'm sure you'd agree last night was as lack lustre as it was for me, right, uncle? Since you'd had a great many women yourself."

He watches you as you lean in. He can see the sheen, smell the remnants of pear on your mouth.

This was a trap. There was no real answer. He's been choked. You knew this. And now your lips were curving up.

"Your mind games don't work on me, child," Daemon finally gets to speak.

You laugh outright. You grab his arm as you sigh, "what? Is it so scary to reply to my words you evaded the question altogether?"

In another world, he'd have gone red faced at your words, but no, your mind games don't work on him.

But, oh, it does.

You got him piping like a kettle.

"Just so we're perfectly clear, uncle, so that I am certain we're on the same page," you clutch your book into your chest, "know, that everything, last night, meant nothing to me."

He speaks before he thinks. He can't even hate himself for it because he speaks like he can't even hear himself, "what if it meant everything to me?"

You knit your brows. You scoff out a chuckle, "now who's playing, Daemon?"

His breath audibly hitches. You hear it. You smile, "that's not really my problem, now is it?"

You horribly, so, so gently rub the pad of your thumb on his lips. He freezes as you turn back. Daemon watches you walk away for the second time. This time, he does not run after.

[carriessotos]

what's your muse's favorite weird food combo? & what's the one piece of clothing your muse couldn't live without? & what tv show character does your muse relate to the most? & what are your muse's biggest red flags when it comes to dating? (emily)

in depth headcanon memes: emily sharpe.

what's your muse's favorite weird food combo?

batata-frita com sorvete - especialmente de baunilha -, e não tem a menor vergonha disso. qualquer uma de suas amigas sabe que, se não cuidar o próprio sorvete e emily estiver com uma batata perto, é bem possível que vá roubar o tal sorvete aos poucos pra ir montando esse combo.

what's the one piece of clothing your muse couldn't live without?

um vestido azul que comprou em uma visita a los angeles com a irmã mais velha, que é praticamente o uniforme de emily quando está quente e vai sair para algum lugar. é definitivamente a sua peça de roupa favorita. também é muito apegada em um cardigã cor de rosa que ganhou de sua mãe três natais atrás.

what tv show character does your muse relate to the most?

na cabeça de emily, ela é uma grande mistura entre a rachel de friends (e um pouco a monica), a cece de new girl, a lorelai de gilmore girls e a miranda de sex and the city (embora o sonho dela fosse ser mais como a samantha).

what are your muse's biggest red flags when it comes to dating?

uma coisa que emily detesta: pessoas que estão sempre arrumando desculpas para tudo. o que a incomoda ainda mais é alguém que não demonstra o menor sinal de interesse em mudar, sempre passando pano para si próprio. outro ponto é quando um cara chama todas as suas exs de malucas, inocentando a si mesmo de qualquer ação e coletivamente as condenando tal como se fosse o certo. também detesta perceber que alguém o tipo de pessoa que tem de se repetir cinquenta e nove vezes algo para, talvez, a pessoa acabar fazendo, mesmo que saiba que a chateia. outra coisa que já a fez abandonar vários primeirso encontros é alguém que tenta diminuir as coisas de que gosta, ainda mais quando acreditam que é uma maneira de fazer piada e que não deveria levar tão a sério. e, considerando que quer casar em algum momento, considera como razão para não continuar saindo com alguém se deixa bem claro que não quer nenhum tipo de relacionamento sério ou não é uma prioridade para a pessoa.

[antihhero]

♬ : My muse and music, ↺ : My muse and the past, ☘ : My muse’s relation with their family // wes

♬ : My muse and music

Wes tem um gosto musical muito eclético, apesar de seu gênero preferido ser hip hop/rap. Escuta alguns artistas alternativos e uns de country. Artistas pop não costumam fazer parte de sua playlist, com exceção de algumas músicas que descobre através de Maddie e acaba gostando.

Seu top 5 artistas no Spotify esse ano foram: Post Malone, Travis Scott, Thomas Rhett, Luke Combs e Imagine Dragons.

↺ : My muse and the past

Trabalhou por dois anos em Chicago em um restaurante bastante renomado. Foi uma oportunidade de ouro que surgiu unicamente porque um de seus professores conseguiu uma entrevista para ele. A rotina era completamente exaustiva e Wes teve alguns períodos bem complicados em que se sentia absolutamente em seu limite. Seu plano era seguir no restaurante e tentar conquistar cada vez mais espaço na cozinha, mas alguns acontecimentos o fizeram perceber que gostaria de retornar a Bend. O falecimento de Daphne Burton e a necessidade de apoiar Finn naquele momento foi o que o fez tomar a decisão de fato, mas já pensava no assunto há vários meses antes disso.

☘ : My muse’s relation with their family

Apesar de seus pais serem divorciados, conseguiram manter uma boa relação ao longo dos anos pelo bem dos gêmeos e nem os casamentos seguintes de ambos fizeram com que a relação dos filhos com os pais estremecesse. Entende que o divórcio foi a melhor decisão que os pais tomaram pelo bem da família. Se dá muito bem com o seu padrasto e sua madrasta, apesar de ser bem mais próximo de Kathryn do que de Jonathan.

[coffee-farm]

LAKE SONG.

INFORMAÇÕES E CONEXÕES

Lake é o herdeiro da Blossom Vineyard, e vem de uma família que está em Apple Cove há décadas, seus pais, infelizmente, já falecidos. Cindy e David, eram "cientistas malucos" do vinho e criaram receitas secretas, portanto, os vinhos dos Song são únicos e Lake passa muito tempo nos laboratórios fazendo exatamente o que aprendeu com seus genitores. Seu nome na verdade é Logan, mas ele se recusa a responder por ele, já que se rebatizou quando adotou suas novas ideologias, após seu encontro com o sobrenatural nas minas, quando ainda era um adolescente.

Sempre foi um adolescente descontraído e era facilmente impressionável pelas lendas locais, portanto, um dia quando saiu com seus amigos rumo às minas e acabou se perdendo entre a profundidade da mesma e jura ter visto criaturas sobrenaturais antes de apagar. Quando foi encontrado e relatou a experiência aos pais, ambos acreditaram nele, mas o restante da cidade não achou nada demais, especialmente vindo de um jovem que passava tanto tempo bebendo vinho e fumando maconha com seus amigos na floresta.

De qualquer modo, isso o "transformou" e Logan passou a acreditar em todas as lendas locais: o mago, a bruxa, os junimos. E, por isso, também decidiu mudar toda a sua vida e se tornar alguém em contato profundo com a natureza. Acredit em todo o misticismo da cidade, faz oferendas aos espíritos da natureza e tenta ser respeitoso com toda a magia que acredita estar à sua volta. Por isso escolheu o nome "Lake" já que era ligado à algo natural e, desde então, tornou-se mais um dos lunáticos da família Song.

CONEXÕES.

001 (de 28 a 36 anos, qualquer gênero, 03) — São suas amizades mais antigas, desde a época da escola e estavam com ele quando ocorreu o incidente das minas. (ABERTA, POR HORA COM CASSANDRA, DOIS ESPAÇOS)

002. (30 a 34 anos, female only, 01) — Muse e Lake eram high school sweethearts, e, na época, todos juravam que iriam se casar. A verdade é que nenhum dos dois realmente queria ou pensava em casamento naquela época mas sucumbiram à pressão de amigos e familiares e passaram meses tentando convencer a si mesmos e um ao outro de que queriam, de fato, se casar. Isso só tornou tudo mais confuso e o término foi estranho. Hoje em dia porém, mais de dez anos depois, dão risada disso juntos.

003. (qualquer gênero, 01) — Muse chegou na cidade sem saber muita coisa e, feliz ou infelizmente, quem lhe acolheu foi Lake. Embora seja uma pessoa calorosa e receptiva, Lake também possui uma fama à parte, portanto, explicou com muito afinco sobre toda a trama sobrenatural da cidade à Muse que, por um tempo, começou a ser visto como alguém igual a Lake até realmente deixar sua marca na cidade. (FECHADA, COM DILAN)

004 . (+26, qualquer gênero, 01) — Muse e Lake são as últimas pessoas de sua geração, portanto, possuem uma missão dada por suas famílias: se odiar. Infelizmente para todos os seus ancestrais, o que aconteceu foi o contrário, e não só são amigos próximos, como são amigos com benefícios. Na verdade, estão tentando há anos descobrir de onde veio a inimizade familiar e, com isso, acabaram descobrindo até segredos de suas famílias que nenhum lado queria contar.

005. (qualquer gênero, 01) — Muse não poderia acreditar menos em todas as lendas locais, portanto, possui uma relação engraçada com Lake onde estão sempre tentando convencer um ao outro de que coisa tal é real/não é real.

006. (qualquer gênero, 03) — O que une Lake a essas pessoas é o gosto por coisas ilícitas. Lake não dispensa um cigarrinho com a planta do diabo, e, por isso, estão sempre dando risada e olhando pro céu, são suas companhias mais recorrentes e seus amigos mais próximos. (FECHADA, COM ROWAN, CORA E NYLAH)

[tadbitfooled]

I wish to discuss gods and my muses' relations to them. In Toril, religion is an intricate part of the culture, as the gods are proven to be real and can directly affect life on the planet. The relationship between mortals and the gods seems to be very transactional, so we'll do a quick post about how my muses relate to the gods.

Tadpoled

Brinus - Obviously, in Menzoberranzan, he has to exonerate Lolth, but he also favors Kiaransalee, the Dark Seldarine goddess of undead, necromancy and vengeance. He feels a sort of kinship with her, at times, so makes sure to include Kiaransalee in his prayers while keeping on the appearance of a Lolth follower for social clout.

Briza - The Jaelre family was exiled for exonerating Vhaeraun and the family keeps up the expected faith, but Briza doesn't feel much connection with Vhaeraun. She has very little religious connection and does what's expected of her but not more. Perhaps, in time, she could find a god more connected with her own life.

Durante - Durante, being the grandson of Mephistopheles, has a rough relationship with anything religious. He has no main deity, but he tends to pray to Sune, Lathander, and Beshada. The former two for artistic inspiration and the latter to save himself from further misfortune.

Frits - As a wizard, obviously he worships Mystra but also the other magical gods as well, such as Azuth and Savras. He also at times will pray to Deneir, as his field research relates to the god's desire to write knowledge down.

Gwenifar - as a cleric of Ilmater, she exonerates Ilmater and Ilmater alone. It's been pointed out by various religious figures that she has a special connection with the god, perhaps from the encounter in her youth and her deal she made to save her sister. It's known she has a strong blessing from him and his favor, but perhaps not at the level of a Chosen due to Ao's decree. Gwen does view it as a transactional set up and feels Ilmater fits her personal views best, plus he was the one who helped when others wouldn't.

Talilah - Follows the Seldarine pantheon, with prayers to Corellon Larethian, Erevan Ilesere, and Melira Taralen most of the time. It's an integral part of her life, for sure, but not something that she views as something that controls her. Just something that's there and part of her, like for a lot of other high elves.

Tavinkas - He's a bhaalspawn so before this, well, it was Bhaal. He was Bhaal's chosen. But after the game, it's Jergal, although Tavinkas would love to step away from death and perhaps, maybe eventually something less bleak.

Camp Followers

Anatol - he's a cleric of Lathander. That's who he prays to, who he focuses on, and he is very much wrapped up in his duties as a cleric and wanting to be heroic (I would've made him a paladin but that's old DND. Maybe I'll multiclass him). He is definitely a little bit obnoxious about it.

Kyrirthlila - follows the Seldarine pantheon, with special attention to Erevan Ilesere and Sehanine Moonbow. She does take her worship seriously, oddly enough compared to how she normally is about authority. But she views it more as working a deal with them, and feels like they're the ones who listen when she needs aid.

Misc.

Arakhivaen - Big follower of the Seldarine pantheon. Obviously with attention to Corellon Larethian but also to Hanali Celanil. He is very devote in his worship, given the whole set up for elves and their pantheon.

Ingeleif - As one of Mystra's chosen, he has a very intimate relationship with the goddess and has for some time. His own skill eventually drew her attention as she needed to grow her power base and she gave him a years long trial to prove his worth. Having proven his worth, he now exonerates her and does her bidding as she wishes.

Klaudius - he is a truescar and high priest of Loviatar. He was raised Loviatan and happily embraced it, taking it even farther than his own parents did. He takes great pleasure in spreading pain as Loviatar requires and only wishes pain and anguish to flow through all of Toril.

Family of Canon Characters

Aella - Oghma and Milil, the deities over bards. Aella is very serious in her practice and will take any insult to either deity as a personal insult. It's an important part of her life and she respects both of these gods and their work.

Arzan - The Seldarine pantheon, with attention given to Solonor Thelandria, as he hunts vampires so he needs the favor of the god of hunting. He prays to the others, of course, but Solonor gets the most attention.

Chiela - a cleric of Sehahine Moonbow, that's who Chiela focuses her worship on. She is very studious in her work and feels Sehanine is the best suited for her and views the relationship as bit of a partnership between them.

Perun - Tymora, the goddess of good fortune. Being an adventure, he knows he needs as much good fortune as he can get. You can't pay him to pray to Mystra, even though people tried when he was a youth.

[aidankeef]

Send 👥 for a headcanon relating to both of our muses

✮✮ ⸻ Ela é a melhor coisa que lhe aconteceu, é claro. Aidan detém uma paixão avassaladora por Kitty que germinou anos atrás.

A primeira interação entre os dois foi, logicamente, “um acidente”. Aidan já havia avistado a filha de Hades há tempos atrás, sempre trocando olhares durante as oportunidades que lhe cabiam. Acontece que, no dia em questão, Kitty andava distraída durante a troca de aulas. O acampamento estava cheio naquele verão e o filho de Ares estava mais encrenqueiro do que nunca, mesmo com o intenso fluxo de pessoas, ele não desviava ou dava caminho. Quando notou que a semideusa caminhava em sua direção distraída, manteve o corpo firme aguardando o contato e, assim que o esbarrão aconteceu, em uma jogada de mestre, lançou-se no chão como se estivesse desequilibrado com aquele embate. Caídos no gramado do acampamento, ouviu pela primeira vez a risada de Kitty, completamente desconcertada com aquela situação. Os rostos vermelhos, o sorriso galanteador do filho de Ares, o cuidado ao ajudá-la a se levantar, foi seguido da primeira frase que trocou com a semideusa: “olhe por onde anda, tatu”.

Depois disso, as trocas de olhares se tornou mais frequente, mas nunca houve uma justificativa plausível para estourar a bolha social que possuíam. Até o primeiro ataque após o chamado de Dionísio. Quando passaram a enfrentar aquele monstro juntos, notou que havia uma sinergia peculiar entre os dois, muito fomentada pelo interesse que possuía nela e pelos movimentos graciosos que lhe causavam a sensação de previsibilidade. Desde então passaram a se aproximar pouco a pouco.

O contato se tornou cada vez mais frequente, sempre repleto de propostas de passeios durante o entardecer e pequenos presentes que surgiam de forma inesperada. Mensagens até a madrugada, insônias acompanhadas. Da lista de presentes, já fez um pequeno tatu de cerâmica para Kitty, bainhas de couro trabalhado para suas armas, cinto de utilidades para missões e até mesmo um cantil personalizado. O último presente foi, sem sombra de dúvidas, o mais divertido. Durante a hospedagem no Resort de Circe Aidan fez questão de ser brega, comprando um conjunto de casal com estampa de caveirinhas, mas aparentemente Kitty não gostou do look cômico.

Não são namorados, mas não desgrudam. Nas últimas semanas, Aidan vem pernoitando no chalé de Hades quase diariamente. Dormem na mesma cama, compartilham a mesma coberta e, vez ou outra, brigam pelo mesmo espaço. Nas últimas semanas, com a manifestação dos novos poderes, a dupla notou que as manifestações acabam Sendo bem inconvenientes: Aidan, roncando, já chegou a empurrar Kitty para fora da cama. Kiraz, por sua vez, já despertou debaixo da cama a até mesmo fora do quarto, fazendo com que o O'Keef entrasse em pânico om o sumiço repentino da mulher.

O semideus já liberou uma gaveta especial para o uso de Kiraz. Dentro dela já existem algumas peças de roupas dela e, talvez, em noites em que precisa atuar em turnos alternativos da patrulha, Aidan tenha criado o hábito de sentir o perfume no tecido antes de dormir. Estranhamente, a roupa parece sempre renovar a fragrância doce após uma visita da semideusa (ele não percebe que ela retoca o perfume em toda santa ocasião).

Aidan lustra a lâmina das espadas de Kiraz, carrega o armamento e as proteções de combate, não permite que ela lide com qualquer tipo de peso desnecessariamente. Isso implicou em uma mudança completa em sua rotina, já que adequou os seus horários para acompanhá-la.

Em nove meses sua vida se tornou muito mais alegre com a presença de Kitty. Mesmo que tudo não passe de uma singela amizade.

[kitdeferramentas]

👥

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Kit quase sufocou o novo irmão quando ele foi reclamado por Hefesto. Quase. Assim que o viu, o waze dele anunciou o novo cálculo da rota e ele fez o retorno antes que fosse tarde demais. Kit mordeu a língua, controlou seu instinto de polvo atacando a presa e foi o melhor dos anfitriões.

Não foi nada devagar a forma como ele se adaptou ao jeitinho de Kaito. O silêncio entre eles servindo de um cutucão necessário para a vida de Kit. O equilíbrio era necessário, a paz era alcançável e não... Apenas... Era possível dividir uma conexão incrível sem precisar falar uma palavra. (ainda não é o jeito de Kit, mas é bom aprender sobre outros mundos, certo?)

Inimigo da solidão, Kit tomou para si o papel de wingman social de Kaito. Festa? Kaito a reboque. Encontrinho no meio da noite? Kaito no ombro. Só um momento descontração na fogueira? Você já conheceram Kaito? Ele não é incrível? Forçava conversas até onde podia, recuando quando recebia aquele olhar de fim de papo por parte dos mais novo. Não era incomum ele escapar das conversas e deixá-lo sozinho, só para olhar todo orgulhoso quando mantinha seu precisar de sua ajuda.

Infelizmente, para Kaito, ele é o primeiro que Kit corre quando tem uma ideia fora do normal. Todos os projetos mais mirabolantes, pendendo para o fantástico, já passaram pelos olhos do irmão. Nem sempre recebe uma aprovação imediata, aceita as precauções de que precisa se controlar e... Some. Só para aparecer alguns dias depois com a versão 2, 3, 4, 5 ponto zero.

[nikahar]

Send 👥 for a headcanon relating to both of our muses (@mayafitzg)

Uma vez, as duas decidiram burlar o toque de recolher e, ao cair da noite, se esgueiraram pela floresta até encontrar um local isolado que Nika conhecia bem, um pequeno refúgio em uma clareira oculta. Lá, montaram um acampamento improvisado com um cobertor e alguns travesseiros que haviam levado. À medida que a noite avançava, as estrelas brilhavam intensamente no céu e o som dos grilos preenchia o silêncio ao redor. A filha de Melinoe segurava a mão da semideusa quando sua expressão de felicidade genuína foi substituída por uma de apreensão. Estava acontecendo. Sóbria, as vozes estavam de volta incessantemente. A jovem se levantou e pegou o pequeno rádio que havia levado, colocando a primeira música do pen drive para tocar.

As vozes não cessavam, mas Maya pareceu perceber o desconforto e, conhecendo a condição de Nika, não precisou perguntar nada. Puxou-a para um beijo, e assim os ouvidos dela conseguiram focar apenas na música. Aquele clichê de "nos beijamos e o mundo inteiro se calou" se tornou completamente literal para a filha de Melinoe, mas não acontecia com qualquer um que a beijava. A atmosfera estava carregada de uma conexão profunda e íntima, e as duas passaram a noite inteira abraçadas, envolvidas em carinho, intimidade, afeto e confiança mútua.

Na manhã seguinte, quando o sol começou a nascer, estavam deitadas lado a lado, com as cabeças apoiadas uma na outra, ouvindo os primeiros sons do dia e desfrutando da serenidade que aquele refúgio proporcionava. Esse momento se tornou uma memória especial para Nicola, um símbolo de uma conexão rara e preciosa, que ela não soube valorizar plenamente no futuro próximo àquela noite.

[guiltymnd]

Send 👥 for a headcanon relating to both of our muses

Diego sempre soube que a amizade entre os dois era inevitável. Sendo muito próximo de Joseph, era apenas uma questão de tempo até que ele se aproximasse de Yasemin também. Unidos pela confeitaria, em uma tarde qualquer, ele se pegou admirado ao ver a semideusa saboreando seus recém-preparados recheios. Naquele instante, uma ligação se formou entre eles, que ele imediatamente reconheceu como duradoura. Desde então, Diego sempre toma a iniciativa de iniciar conversas, seja sobre qualquer assunto ou até mesmo em momentos de espionagem ao lado dela — algo que ele faz com grande prazer, já que adora alinhar o modo fofoca com a chance de ajudar uma amiga. Além disso, ele está sempre disposto a ajudá-la, assim como faria por qualquer pessoa, mas com uma diferença: Diego vê Yasemin como uma irmã mais nova, alguém que ele sente a necessidade de proteger, independentemente da situação. Entre eles, não há barreiras, e ele faz questão de deixar isso claro com pequenos gestos. Se Yasemin deseja algo preparado por suas mãos, ele não hesita em largar tudo para atender ao pedido. Para ele, nunca há um momento ruim para arrancar um sorriso dos lábios de uma de suas ruivas favoritas.

[mysteryacademyhq]

EVENTO DE HALLOWEEN;

O despertar dos alunos e do corpo docente da Mystery Academy na noite de Halloween marcou o fim do transe provocado pelo veneno da bruxa. No entanto, assim que abriram os olhos, ficou claro que algo estava terrivelmente errado. Um homem descalço, visivelmente em estado de choque, batia freneticamente nos portões da academia, implorando por refúgio e proteção.

O homem, com palavras trêmulas, contou detalhadamente o que havia acontecido em Crystal Cove desde a ausência da proteção dos agentes. A história que ele relatou era sombria e aterrorizante, revelando que a cidade havia sido tomada pelas forças das trevas e que o caos reinava nas ruas, bruxas de todos os tipos chegavam na cidade sem parar. Não demorará muito para que o diretor Fred logo percebesse que estavam diante de uma ameaça de proporções épicas.

Os eventos das noites anteriores indicavam claramente uma invasão de bruxas e uma onda de terror se espalhando por Crystal Cove. Estrondos misteriosos ecoaram nas cavernas, sinalizando que algo sinistro estava em andamento. Três noites atrás, as bruxas se espalharam como uma praga, infiltrando-se nas entranhas da cidade, incluindo cavernas e o metrô. Civis eram atacados e capturados, aparentemente destinados a algum tipo de ritual macabro.

Diante desse pesadelo, a Mystery Academy se destacava como o único lugar seguro e protegido contra as forças das trevas que ameaçavam a cidade. Os alunos e o corpo docente estavam determinados a proteger não apenas a si mesmos, mas também a todos que buscassem refúgio na academia. A batalha para recuperar Crystal Cove e desvendar o mistério por trás desse ataque estava prestes a começar. A descoberta da ausência de Daphne Blake e de um dos alunos da academia gerou uma sensação de urgência e preocupação crescente entre os fundadores e os membros da Mystery Academy. Daphne, sendo uma das figuras centrais da academia, tinha sido sequestrada de sua própria residência sem deixar qualquer rastro, um acontecimento perturbador.

Além disso, o dormitório de Tyran(@aliensemterra) um dos alunos, revelava uma cena caótica e indicava claramente que uma luta corporal intensa havia ocorrido. A incerteza sobre o destino dessas duas pessoas era avassaladora, e a academia se viu diante de mais um mistério a ser desvendado, em meio ao caos que envolvia a cidade. A busca por respostas e a luta para trazê-los de volta se tornariam prioridades cruciais nos próximos desafios que enfrentariam.

Sob a liderança do diretor interino Fred Jones e do fundador Martin Mystery, um apelo urgente foi feito a todos os agentes da Mystery Academy. Eles foram convocados a vestir seus uniformes, pegar seus apetrechos na ala Wooph e se preparar para uma missão crucial: resgatar a cidade das garras das bruxas que a ameaçavam. A cidade dependia deles para restaurar a paz e a segurança, e todos estavam prontos para enfrentar os desafios que se aproximavam.

INFORMAÇÕES OOC:

O evento começa 05/11(domingo) a partir das 17:00 horas, mas dentro da timeline do rpg ainda estamos na noite do dia 31.

O evento encerra dia 11/11(próximo domingo) as 23:59.

Vocês podem postar os uniformes dos muses de vocês com a tag mahq;uniform e apetrechos e armas na tag mahq;apetrechos.

Vocês podem escolher entre ir derrotar um dos três tipos de bruxas, resgatar os reféns, resgatar os civis ou ajudar na enfermaria da escola.

[moonstone-vibe]

Fic writer (of doom) interview :))

Thank you @melodious-tear for tagging me! 🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰

How many works do you have on AO3? - 83 (whaaaat? :)) okay, but I started writing some 15 years ago)

What’s your total AO3 word count? - 1,462,003. Like I said. And to quote that meme, 'some may be good, some may be shit'

What are your top 5 fics by kudos? - 1. Age of Astaroth (Ao no Exorcist | Blue Exorcist), 2. You don't need a (fucking) quirk (僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia), 3. Are we still playing (Haikyuu!!) , 4. Compensation (Haikyuu!!), 5. Reactive (Hetalia: Axis Powers)

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? - ALWAYS!!! And I also put lots of hearts and bunnies and whatnot, for mysterious reasons. But seriously, I love comments, and not just positive feedback. It means my work has caused a reaction with the reader, stirred some emotion. I'm always grateful.

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending? - hmm, I guess the angstiest would be Resentful (陈情令 | The Untamed (TV), 魔道祖师 - 墨香铜臭 | Módào Zǔshī - Mòxiāng Tóngxiù) , but Bai Lin's lament (琉璃 | Love and Redemption (TV)) is quite sad too. But usually I avoid angsty/sad/unhappy endings and strive to give my characters at least some silver lining if not a fully happy ending. I'm a sucker for happy endings, me.

What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending? - The Embrace of Death and the Kiss of Life (Soul Eater). This immediately comes to mind

Do you write crossovers? - I was about to say never, but in fact I recently wrote one. For smut purposes only :)))

Have you ever received hate on a fic? - I have received the abundant pleasantries of the infamous Guest reviewers back when I was active on fanfiction.net, but those people either had a problem with the sacred guidelines or were just there to troll but never related to a fic itself. On AO3 there was the very dedicated XiYao troll, but again, they had a problem with the pairing in general rather than with my fics.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind? - I wrote both het and BL, but only BL was ever fully explicit (influenced by my absolute shifu sectionladvivi/Daniel May. I'm hardly on his level though). I never wrote yuri and I wouldn't either.

Have you ever had a fic stolen? - I don't think so.

Have you ever had a fic translated? - Yeah, Rise of the Emerald Princess (Soul Eater) was translated and that person also asked me if they could write a prequel one-shot/spin off. I was beyond flattered, you guys!

Have you ever co-written a fic before? - I have, but just once. I'd like to give it a try sometime, but it's a commitment. Maybe a one-shot.

What’s your all-time favorite ship? - When it comes to ships, my muse is as faithful as an incubus, I have no control over this thing, you get the picture. So, no. Why settle on a fave anyway? :))

What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will? - I will strive to finish all my WIPs (I have like 2 :))) Normally when a fic is hopeless, I just delete it.

What are your writing strengths? - that sometimes I can write :)))))

What are your writing weaknesses? - that I have no control over my muse whatsoever and that includes long periods 'on the dry'

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic? - it's cool as long as it's a language I have at least some vague knowledge of. Walter Essner speaking French is everything :)))

What was the first fandom you wrote for? - Inglorious Basterds

What’s a fandom/ship you haven’t written for yet but want to? - nothing comes to mind right now...

What’s your favorite fic you’ve written? - hmmm, can't decide between Boy in gold silk (陈情令 | The Untamed (TV)) and White man's coffin (陈情令 | The Untamed (TV)) 

tagging @estbela @starsmadeinheaven @doodlin-moons , @someone-you-do-not-know , @coffeewithcutcaffeine, @roseszirnheld and anyone else who might want to give it a try ;)

[eroscandy]

Send 👥 for a headcanon relating to both of our muses

Brincar com Sebastian passou a ser uma das suas atividades favoritas num piscar de olhos. Aquela vozinha miúda entre as garotas sobre o filho de Poseidon cheio de pinta, versado na arte do flerte, com incríveis olhos azuis. Como não se interessar? Fingir ser aquela donzela indefesa de sorrisos bobos e dedos enrolando cachos loiros, puxando para entre os lábios e mordiscando a pontinha da unha. Sebastian era exatamente o que tinham dito e um pouco mais, exalando aquela aura confiante que ela gostava muito. E ela oferecia a mão para que segurasse, deixava-o cobrir em abraços 'roubados'; só para vê-la fugir dos encantos de um tritão. Sereia descoberta e escorregadia. Pintando suas camisas de marcas enrugadas, beijos em batom vermelho e nada. Nada oferecido em troca além da promessa que ela não diziam em voz alta. Só que começou a mudar... As risadas trocadas por palavras mais sérias, criando uma base que ela se confortava com mais frequência do que tinha imaginado. Agora ela segurava-o como se estivesse prestes a se afogar, erguendo o rosto para receber aquele carinho cálido no topo da testa. E ela... Candy vinha por trás e despejava carinho naquele que era mais do que um sedutor. Uma natureza tão delicada quanto os veios formados na volta da onda. Areia moldada para a corrente cristalina e rapidamente desfeita se passadas por pés descuidados. Ei, Sebastian, como você está? Cantarolava no refeitório, jogava um pedacinho de fruta no prato e continuava a provocar, mordiscando a orelha. Mas... Mas escutava e mantinha os olhos atentos ao rosto expressivo. Ou diria vulnerável? Ou ainda, decodificado? Porque ela o lia melhor do que antes, acompanhava a curva se suas sobrancelhas com mais atenção. E ela temia... Temia que a facilidade de entendê-lo refletisse na abertura do próprio livro, nos significados das próprias palavras. Aquela relação que tinha começado como gato e rato, transformada em companheiros confidentes e não tinha intenções de parar ali...

[zeusraynar]

Send 👥 for a headcanon relating to both of our muses @aidankeef

A comunicação foi, e continua sendo, o ponto mais fraco do filho de Zeus. Não que ele não tenha nada a dizer, é só... Complicado traduzir tudo o que pensa em uma linguagem que não fira profundamente quem recebe a mensagem que ele quer passar. Raynar enfurece com facilidade, frustra-se com a mesma velocidade, transforma tudo numa questão de vida em morte no decorrer de estalar os dedos. Mas, de alguma forma, Aidan conseguiu descobrir a fórmula perfeita para vencer aqueles obstáculos. Insistência com falta de noção, daqueles idiotas que colocam a cabeça dentro da boca do crocodilo e fazem pose para foto. Ele forçou alguma coisa? Tecnicamente, não. A autossuficiência em só falar, sem esperar resposta, irritava-o. Ele domou Raynar? Não tinha chicote, nem algema (nem corda de alpinista), só o dia-a-dia do mesmo e sem se importar com o resultado. E o silêncio que aumentava a cada pergunta, esperando a resposta do filho de Zeus como se fosse importante. E daí que não sabia o que comeria no jantar, mas... De alguma forma... Dizer lasanha fez o dia de Aidan e trouxe um prato junto ao seu no refeitório. Raynar não entendia o que se passava na cabeça daquele doido, se tinha batido com força demais durante o treino e reconfigurado os sentidos, só... Só... Era bom. Abrir a boca e provocar alguma coisa que não o medo declarado. Andar ao lado de quem não retrai em repulsa ou girasse os olhos para alguém que não o julgava por existir. Aidan foi um guerreiro para conseguir chegar onde estava e ganhar o título de melhor amigo de Raynar Hornsby. Foi Aidan que primeiro soube dos seus último dia em Aspen, do que aconteceu com a mãe. Foi o primeiro a escutar suas histórias de quando criança (e mudar o caminho de volta de uma missão para ele testar uma pista de esqui artificial num shopping). Raynar contou aqueles pequenos pedacinhos de uma criança que, uma vez, tinha ansiado esse contato e agora, todo crescido, ficava incerto de seguir em frente. E que sorte, sério, de Aidan ser uma criança por dentro e dar toda aquela experiência sem que ele se sentisse estranho - e pudesse rir verdadeiramente ao seu lado.