#scandalous artistry

[solxamber]

Starstruck || Malleus Draconia

After debuting with a gothic, fantasy-inspired theme, you somehow managed to hit Malleus Draconia’s exact vibe. Now, the fae prince has single-handedly appointed himself your Number One Fan—and he's taking his job very, very seriously.

It’s finally happening. After years of grinding it out in practice rooms, singing until your voice was raw, and dancing until your legs felt like spaghetti, the moment of truth has arrived. The managers want you to decide on your debut concept.

In front of you are two choices: school theme and gothic fantasy. You glance over at the school uniform option and cringe a little inside. At your age? No, thank you.

You’re not about to spend your precious debut years waving around pom-poms and trying to look sixteen. Gothic fantasy, on the other hand? Now that’s got some style. Dark cloaks, intense lighting, elaborate costumes—it’s exactly the drama you’ve been craving.

Your manager stands beside you, flipping through a spreadsheet with an expression that can only be described as financially preoccupied.

“Listen,” he says, in a tone that suggests he’s already decided, “school theme has a mass appeal. It’s relatable. Kids these days love a little campus vibe. And you know, uniform sales have great margins…”

“I’m doing gothic fantasy,” you reply, crossing your arms with a confidence that could stop a truck.

He blinks at you. “Okay, sure, I get the allure. But are you sure? Think of the numbers, the opportunities to connect with the youth. Imagine the adorable school scenes, the casual sports day outfits, the innocent love plots…”

“Imagine the smoke machines and black roses,” you counter, eyes gleaming.

He tries another angle. “Well, just consider the feedback from market research. School themes are—"

“Gothic. Fantasy.”

He sighs deeply, muttering something that sounds suspiciously like, “These artists and their egos,” but gives in, albeit with a look of absolute resignation. “Fine. Gothic fantasy it is. But you’re taking full responsibility if it flops.”

Release day arrives, and your first single—complete with a dramatic, shadow-filled video and costumes that look like something out of a Victorian vampire drama—hits the internet. The reactions are… intense.

Sure, maybe it’s not an overnight sensation, but it’s more than enough to get people talking. Your fans? They’re not your typical “bought it for the vibes” crowd. They are deeply invested.

You’re talking about people who can recite your lyrics like a spell. You even see fan forums cropping up where people dissect the symbolism of your music videos. There’s a post dedicated to the exact shade of black eyeliner you’re wearing, and someone actually counted how many flickers each candle has in the video.

One day, as you’re scrolling through the comments, a particularly poetic fan post catches your eye: “The ethereal aura this idol has given us with their gothic artistry is like a dark gift from another realm.”

Okay, maybe the fandom is a little… intense. But you can’t help but grin.

It all starts innocently enough.

One day, Lilia’s showing Malleus some music videos he calls "classics" (pretty sure some of them are just 20 minutes of bats screeching over synthesizers, but to each their own).

But, as fate would have it, Malleus stumbles across your latest release. His eyes widen as the screen fills with your dark aesthetic, the intense melodies, the dramatic lighting, the black roses swirling around you like a misty dreamscape. He’s hooked.

The video ends, and he turns to Lilia, awestruck. “Who is this human?” he asks, as if you’re some kind of ancient artifact discovered under a full moon.

“Oh, that’s a new artist. Apparently, they’re pretty talented.” Lilia raises an eyebrow, amused by Malleus’s reaction. “Why? Fancy yourself a fan, young master?”

“A fan?” Malleus looks scandalized. “Lilia, I am enchanted.”

Malleus’s enchantment quickly turns into an obsession. He spends the next few days discovering every song, music video, interview, and even those mildly embarrassing “What’s in My Bag?” videos where you show off your essentials (you had no idea one video about your favorite scented candles could attract such intense devotion).

He watches one interview where the host asks if you’re afraid of fae, and you reply with a casual, “Nah, I’d love to visit them one day.”

This is what seals the deal for Malleus. This human is not only a talented artist but also respectful, brave, and curious about the fae world. He has found his idol.

He decides it’s time to support you. And, because he’s the literal prince of the Briar Valley, he does what any fae royalty would: he orders some of your albums.

One hundred of them, to be exact.

In Malleus’s defense, he has absolutely zero concept of money. To him, it’s normal to go big. So he clicks “order” without even thinking, and in his mind, it’s done. Simple.

A few days later, when the delivery truck pulls up with boxes upon boxes upon boxes, Malleus’s reaction is… complicated.

He stares at the delivery man, then back at the wall of albums now stacked in front of him, and mutters, “I may have made a mistake.”

But Malleus Draconia is no quitter. So he devises a new plan: he’ll distribute these albums across the Briar Valley. Anyone who even mildly expresses an interest gets an album handed to them with an enthusiasm that’s both heartwarming and slightly terrifying.

It doesn’t take long before every fae in the valley knows your name, and soon enough, your music is echoing through the mystical woods. You, a mere human, are now an icon among the fae. The legend of the human idol with the beautiful music, who’s brave enough to express curiosity about fae life, spreads like wildfire.

Meanwhile, you’re in the middle of a heated argument with your manager. Despite your loyal fanbase, your concert venues are… sparsely filled, to put it kindly.

“I don’t know how to make this any clearer,” your manager says, waving his phone around for emphasis. “We need more fans, more sold-out shows, or it’s not going to be viable to keep booking these venues!”

You’re about to respond when his phone dings. Then again. And again. Suddenly, it sounds like he’s strapped a vibrating blender to his hand. Ding, ding, ding, dingdingdingding.

“What the…?” He stares at the screen, his expression shifting from annoyance to shock. “I—it says you’ve sold out every single venue. Wait, wait—there’s a waiting list for tickets that haven’t even been put on sale yet?”

He looks at you, blinking in astonishment. “I never doubted you for a second!” he declares with all the sincerity of a used car salesman. You roll your eyes. “Sure, pal.”

Later that night, you decide to check the fan forum for yourself. And something strikes you as… odd. Suddenly, all these usernames sound like they belong to a fantasy RPG. You scroll through names like “Elder_Oak_Watcher,” “Pixie_Phenomenon,” and “Darkthorn_Dreamweaver” and can’t help but wonder if your fandom has fully committed to your fantasy vibe. You chalk it up to hardcore fans. Nothing suspicious, right?

The agency celebrates by booking more venues, announcing a new merch line, and—wait for it—a raffle event for a day with you. You’re thrilled but mostly relieved that things are finally looking up.

Cut to the Briar Valley, where Malleus gets wind of the fan meeting announcement. His eyes practically sparkle with delight.

“I have a chance to spend time with them?” he murmurs, clutching the announcement poster like it’s a sacred artifact.

“Of course, you do!” Lilia chimes in, grinning. “And if you’re really eager, I could help improve your odds.”

Silver, overhearing, asks. “Are we really doing this?”

“It’s for young master Malleus!” Sebek hisses, practically vibrating with devotion. “If he wishes to meet this human, we will ensure he wins that raffle! Even if I don’t understand why he’d—” He pauses, scowling. “—lower himself to that level for a human.”

Lilia waves a hand dismissively. “Oh, Sebek, let Malleus enjoy his hobby! It’s rare to see him so enchanted. Besides, a bit of human culture never hurt anyone!”

Silver shrugs, giving Malleus a supportive smile. “If this makes you happy, Malleus, we’ll all enter on your behalf.”

Sebek bristles. “Very well, if it is the young master’s wish, I, too, shall enter—though I don’t understand this human obsession.”

Lilia claps him on the shoulder. “Consider it a show of loyalty to the crown.”

Sebek mutters something about “weird human tastes” but agrees nonetheless. And with that, your raffle odds have just quadrupled, courtesy of the most enthusiastic and unhinged fae entourage you never knew you needed.

Malleus beams, and for once, the usual silence in Briar Valley is replaced with something very unexpected: the excited murmurs their prince getting ready for his ultimate fan meeting.

It’s your first “Unboxing Fan Mail!” livestream, and you’re bubbling with excitement as you tear through letters and packages. You’re halfway through reading a pile of cute fan letters when one catches your eye: an envelope with a hand-drawn gargoyle. This thing has personality.

“Whoa…,” you mutter as you carefully open it. Inside, you find a letter, written in such flowery, old-fashioned cursive you almost need a magnifying glass. Clearing your throat, you read a part of it aloud:

"Your craft has brought light and delight to the shadows of our realm. It is rare to encounter such reverence and elegance in a human. Know that your courage and respect have earned you an esteemed place in the hearts of those from lands beyond mortal reach. Enclosed is a token of my admiration—a rose from my homeland, blessed to be as timeless as the admiration I hold for you.

Sincerely,

M.D.”

It takes a second for the words to fully sink in. Your gaze drifts to the box sitting beside you, which you unwrap with careful fingers. Inside lies a single Briar rose—its petals dark and lush, radiating a faint magical shimmer that tells you this is no ordinary gift. The rose feels alive, pulsing softly with ancient magic. You gently lift it, brushing a fingertip along the petal’s edge, feeling the cool, unyielding softness.

And suddenly, you feel tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. “Oh… wow,” you manage, voice wavering. You blink back tears but don’t quite succeed, pressing a hand to your mouth in a mix of joy and disbelief. “Thank you so much, M.D. This is… this is beautiful. I don’t even have words.”

Back in the Briar Valley, Malleus is watching the livestream playback with his usual calm demeanor… until he sees you crying. His face falls, and he looks at Lilia, horrified. “Did I… upset them? My letter was meant to honor them, not… bring tears.” He’s practically pale. Well, paler than usual.

“Oh, don’t fret,” Lilia chimes in with a laugh, patting Malleus on the shoulder. “They’re just happy! Look how much they loved it. You brought them pure joy!”

Malleus blinks. “So… I have not offended them?”

“Far from it! In fact,” Lilia says with a knowing smirk, “I think you’re officially their number one fan.”

Malleus’s eyes narrow with sudden, unshakeable determination. “Of course, I am,” he says, as if this is the most obvious truth in the world. “Who else could claim that title?”

You have no idea what you've gotten into.

It’s your first concert. The crowd is buzzing, their voices creating a low hum that vibrates through the walls, yet you’re backstage with a knot in your stomach that feels about the size of a boulder.

You shift from foot to foot, hands clammy as you grip the mic, wondering if this is actually a good idea or if you should just make a break for it now and head for the hills.

A voice echoes through the earpiece: “Three minutes, everyone!”

You take a deep breath, steadying yourself as the band gives you encouraging nods. All those years of training, of dreaming, of rehearsing until your feet felt like they’d fall off—this is what it was for.

Your fans are out there, waiting. You can already hear some of them chanting your name. And slowly, your nerves start to melt away, replaced by a surge of adrenaline.

The lights dim. You step onto the stage, heart pounding, and the audience erupts. Thousands of people, waving lights and singing the opening notes of your debut song back to you.

The energy washes over you, filling every corner of your soul, and suddenly there’s no room left for doubt.

The music pours out of you, and the crowd’s response is instant, electric. They're clapping, cheering, and singing along. You almost forget to breathe as you realize—they know every word.

It’s in the middle of your second song, during a moment where the lights are shining right on the front row, that you spot something peculiar.

Wait… Are those… fae?

Not just one, but three of them. And they’re not your typical, “blending in” kind of fans, either. One of them—the tall one with the horns—looks like he’s just stepped out of some mythical kingdom (which, granted, he kind of has). There’s an unmissable aura around him, and his eyes are fixed on you like you’re the most mesmerizing sight he’s ever seen.

The other two fae are close by, each one unique but unmistakably not human. And a very sleepy human is nodding off standing there.

You try to keep performing, but your heart’s pounding for a new reason now. The tall fae—he’s so intense. There’s something captivating, almost otherworldly, in the way he’s watching you, like he’s fully captured by your music. It’s a bit like he belongs here and also… really doesn’t. Yet somehow, he makes it work.

Finally, you reach the interaction part of the concert, the moment where you get to pick a “lucky fan” from the crowd for a backstage pass at your next show. Your mind goes blank for a second as you look over the crowd, but the sight of those fae at the front makes your decision easy. You raise a hand, pointing directly at the tall one, still staring at you with that intense look in his eyes.

You can feel the collective shock from the crowd as you exclaim, “You! Yes, at the front! You’re the lucky winner!”

The tall fae’s eyes widen ever so slightly, a look of pure delight crossing his face as his friends react with either shock or something bordering on exasperation. He steps forward a bit, visibly thrilled, and nods to you as if he’s just received the highest honor imaginable.

Lilia, standing beside Malleus, gives a knowing chuckle. “My, my, our prince has been blessed by fortune,” he teases.

Sebek, looking utterly scandalized, hisses, “The Young Master? At a human’s concert again? With a… backstage pass?” His voice drips with disbelief.

Silver, with a half-smile, murmurs, “Well, he does look happy. That’s what matters, right?”

And Malleus, basking in the moment, seems too happy to notice their reactions. He meets your gaze, nodding as if to say, Yes, it is I, your devoted fan.

And suddenly, you’re beaming, too, because in this moment, you realize—you’re not just performing for humans. You’ve captured the attention of beings beyond the mortal world, and something about that feels… magical.

It’s the day of your next concert, and you’re backstage, mentally preparing yourself. You’d think after the first show, the nerves would be easier to handle, but that flutter of excitement is still there. Just as you’re rehearsing a few last lines, your manager bursts in, a mix of terror and wild enthusiasm lighting up his face.

“You… you’ve got to see this,” he stammers, pulling you toward the edge of the curtain.

“Uh, okay?” You’re confused, but you follow him to peek out onto the crowd.

What you see is not what you expected.

The venue is packed. And not just with your usual audience—no, tonight, the crowd is full of fae. Like, really full of fae. A sprinkle of beastmen, a handful of humans (who look varying levels of petrified), but the overwhelming majority? Fae of every type.

You spot wings, horns, a few floating orbs of light that might just be small fae spirits, and an array of gleaming, wide eyes that are laser-focused on the stage.

In the front row, you catch sight of a familiar face. The tall fae with horns who won your backstage pass last time—he’s here, and still utterly entranced. On impulse, you give a little wave, feeling a bit silly, but somehow unable to resist.

To your surprise, he just stands there, looking stunned, until the black-haired fae next to him nudges him with an elbow. Then, almost shyly, he lifts his hand and waves back.

From Malleus’s perspective, everything is perfect. His people have fallen under your spell just as he has. Watching you emerge to greet the crowd, he’s already enraptured.

You look out into the audience, and then—to his amazement—you look right at him and wave. He freezes, utterly smitten, until Lilia nudges him. After a second, he waves back, his heart doing something he’s quite sure it’s never done before.

The concert begins, and it’s an experience beyond anything you’ve known. The fae audience is surprisingly intense—they’re quiet during the softer moments, like they’re absorbing every note, and then wildly enthusiastic during the high-energy parts.

For a second, you wonder if your music has some kind of magic in it, too. Their reaction fuels your own performance, until the final note echoes out and the crowd erupts in applause.

Then comes the moment of truth: the backstage pass winner’s meet and greet.

You’re resting in the designated room, savoring a post-concert cookie when you hear… raised voices?

“Only the winner is allowed in!” your security guard insists, sounding exasperated.

“And I’m telling you,” someone snaps back, “I won’t allow my master to go in alone to meet a human!”

Curious, you step out to find the same quartet from the front row having a tense standoff with security. The tall one—the same one who keeps catching your eye—looks as serene as ever, while his silver-haired friend seems half-asleep despite the commotion. You raise a hand. “It’s okay! Let them all in.”

The guard reluctantly steps aside, and the four file into the room. There’s an awkward pause as they stare at you, clearly debating who should introduce themselves first. The tall one steps forward, and you offer a small smile.

“So… we finally meet. What’s your name?”

“Malleus,” he says, his voice deep and slightly reverent. “Malleus Draconia.”

You’re about to respond when he holds out a hand—a hesitant, almost formal gesture. Before you can shake it, the green-haired fae scowls, clearly offended. “That’s His Highness to you, Don't causally touch him human!”

You freeze mid-motion. Highness? Fae Royalty?

“Yes,” Malleus says mildly, “though I’d rather you not call me that right now, Sebek. This is a personal occasion.”

“Oh, you’re… royalty.” You take a very controlled breath, willing yourself not to faint.

Malleus nods, completely unfazed, though Lilia snickers under his breath and gives you a little wave. “I apologize if that was not clear before. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

You regain your composure. You're a professional. “Right, royalty. Got it. No big deal.” (It’s a huge deal, but you can scream into your pillow later.)

That's when it clicks. M.D, Malleus Draconia, Fae Prince.

In an attempt to break the tension(and to not spiral), you say, “By the way, I loved the little gargoyle you drew on the letter you sent me. It was cute.”

Malleus blinks, visibly taken aback. “You… liked the gargoyle?”

You nod, smiling. “They’re nice to look at.”

For a second, Malleus just stares, and it feels like his entire face is starting to glow. “You appreciate gargoyles?” he says, in a tone that sounds like you’ve just admitted you’re secretly royalty, too.

“Uh, yeah. They’re kinda cool.” You laugh, and Malleus looks like he’s been blessed by every possible deity.

Meanwhile, Sebek mutters something vaguely exasperated, and you catch a snippet: “This human has actually caught the his interest…”

Lilia laughs, giving Malleus a playful nudge. “Well, isn’t that something? I guess you truly are their number one fan, Malleus.”

Malleus nods seriously. “Of course. I am honored to be recognized as such.” His eyes gleam with utter sincerity.

You chat a bit more, exchanging small talk, until you mention offhandedly that your company has been discussing hosting a concert near Briar Valley due to the recent increase in fae fans. Malleus immediately perks up.

“Oh, well, you should simply perform in Briar Valley,” he says, as if offering his personal venue is as easy as lending a pen.

“Wait… seriously?” You look at him, not sure if he’s joking.

“Of course,” Malleus replies earnestly. “I would be delighted to arrange it. As the prince… and your number one fan.” His eyes are so bright and genuine, you can’t help but laugh.

“All right, I’d love that,” you say, heartily amused and impossibly charmed.

As they start to leave, an idea pops into your head. “Hey, Malleus, do you want a picture together?”

He blinks, clearly surprised. “A picture? I… would be honored.”

You take out your phone, getting into position, and then, on a whim, you lean over and kiss him on the cheek right as you snap the photo.

From the doorway, Sebek lets out a scandalized squawk, and your manager looks like he’s about to pass out. But Malleus? He’s wide-eyed, staring at you like you’ve granted him the greatest gift in existence.

With a wink, you murmur, “Consider it a special gift for my biggest fan.”

For a second, Malleus just stands there, wide-eyed, and then, slowly, a delighted, utterly smitten smile spreads across his face.

The concert in Briar Valley turns out to be way more fun than you could’ve ever imagined. You were nervous at first—after all, you’re literally performing in a hidden fae realm with the kind of audience that probably doesn’t even need speakers to hear you.

But once you get started, the vibe is incredible. The fae are enthusiastic, cheering and applauding in that slightly mystical way they have. Their clapping sounds like wind chimes, and every so often, you think you see little trails of magic light in the crowd.

And right in the front row, like always, is Malleus Draconia. He’s the picture of regal elegance, standing out in his official Briar Valley attire, looking like he’s attending some kind of royal ceremony. You’d almost laugh at the contrast—Malleus, dignified and regal, surrounded by a crowd absolutely hyped for a pop concert. And, because you can’t resist, you give him a cheeky wink mid-song.

Malleus doesn’t miss a beat; he looks like he’s been struck by some sort of enchantment himself. His cheeks faintly color, but he doesn’t look away, a faint, dazed smile on his face. He’s living his best fanboy life, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy every second of his reaction.

After the concert ends, Malleus insists on personally escorting you around Briar Valley. You’re beyond thrilled—after all, it’s not every day that a fae prince offers to give you a tour of his homeland. Sebek and Silver, ever loyal, trail behind, with Sebek grumbling under his breath every five seconds about “proper decorum” and “human interactions.”

Meanwhile, Lilia is there for the pure entertainment of it all, throwing you little mischievous grins whenever you glance back at him.

As you’re strolling down a cobblestone path lined with Briar roses, you feel the first drop of rain on your cheek. “Oh no, I didn’t bring an umbrella…”

But the second you say it, there’s a flurry of movement. Malleus, Sebek, Silver, and Lilia all open umbrellas in perfect unison, like some kind of magical boy band choreography. Sebek even has an extra umbrella on standby, which he’s holding out to you with a solemn look.

But before you can notice it, Malleus shoots him a look that could probably summon a thunderstorm, and Sebek reluctantly withdraws, muttering darkly under his breath about “Etiquette.”

Meanwhile, Lilia, never one to miss an opportunity, flings the extra umbrella into a bush with a casual flick of his wrist before you can even notice.

He turns to Silver and Sebek with a bright grin, “Come now, let’s give the two some space! Isn’t it so romantic?” Sebek looks horrified, about to argue, but Lilia’s already dragging him and Silver away, leaving you alone with Malleus.

So now it’s just the two of you, standing in the rain, with Malleus holding his large, intricately decorated umbrella over both of you. The umbrella’s big enough that it shields you from the rain easily, but that doesn’t stop Malleus from stepping a little closer, just to be sure.

There’s an awkward, giddy silence as you continue to walk side by side. You can feel the warmth radiating from him, and your hands brush against each other occasionally. Finally, he clears his throat and says, “Did you enjoy the concert? Briar Valley’s… first, of this sort.”

“Oh, definitely!” you say, grinning. “It was amazing to see so many fae enjoying the music. And you were right up front! You didn’t have to—”

“It was… my pleasure,” Malleus replies, his deep voice a little softer than usual. “I wanted to see everything as closely as possible.” There’s an endearing awkwardness to him that only makes him more captivating.

From the moment you met him, you thought Malleus was just a really dedicated fan—sweet, if a bit intense, but ultimately adorable. Sure, he’s got that tall, dark, and slightly terrifying vibe with the horns and the whole royal aura, but he’s also so polite and gentle that you can’t help but find it cute.

But now, as you walk under the same umbrella, his warmth just inches away, it hits you with sudden clarity. Oh, I am so, so screwed.

Because you might like him a little bit. Scratch that—a lot a bit.

Malleus glances at you, noticing the sudden shift in your expression. “Is something amiss?” His voice is gentle, genuinely concerned.

“Oh! No, I’m fine. Just, uh, a little tired from the show,” you say quickly, brushing it off.

Malleus doesn’t look entirely convinced but accepts your answer with a soft nod. Then, almost shyly, he extends his hand. “Here. It’s quite cold… if you’d like…”

You stare down at his offered hand, feeling your pulse jump. It’s such a small, polite gesture, but it sends your heart racing. You slip your hand into his, feeling his warmth seep into your skin, and a small smile tugs at your lips.

As you walk together under the umbrella, Lilia, peeking from behind a corner with a very exasperated Sebek in tow, smirks to himself. "Ah, young love," he sighs dramatically, as if he were watching a play unfold.

Back under the umbrella, Malleus is telling you about the history of Briar Valley, his voice gentle and filled with pride. You don’t catch half of it because you’re too focused on the way he looks down at you, his eyes soft and completely captivated. Every so often, he leans in a little closer, as if he can’t help himself.

Eventually, you reach the end of the walk, the rain easing off, and Malleus turns to you, looking slightly hesitant. “I hope this evening has been enjoyable for you… I wished for you to see the beauty of Briar Valley, but I… I fear I may have monopolized your time.”

You laugh softly. “Oh, trust me, I think you’re doing a great job of showing me around. Plus,” you add, “it’s not so bad sharing an umbrella with my biggest fan.”

Malleus’s expression lights up, a rare, breathtaking smile breaking across his face. “Yes,” he agrees softly, almost to himself. “Your… biggest fan.”

Before they leave, you impulsively pull out your phone. “Hey, Malleus, would you like to take another picture together? You know, as a memory of Briar Valley?”

Malleus’s eyes widen slightly, but he nods. “I would… like that very much.”

You pose, holding up your phone, and just as you snap the picture, he looks at you with a strange spark in his eyes, he leans over, just barely hesitating, and presses a gentle kiss to your cheek.

Now you’re the one who freezes, absolutely flustered but trying very hard to play it off. You clear your throat, laugh a little too brightly, and tuck a strand of hair behind your ear as if it’s no big deal. “W-Well, um, I guess we’re even now!” you stammer, hoping he doesn’t notice the warmth creeping up your face.

Malleus gives you a small, satisfied smile, clearly pleased with your reaction, while Sebek is beside himself, practically vibrating at a frequency that could power one of your concerts, as he splutters, “YOUNG MASTER, THIS IS—YOU CAN’T JUST—A HUMAN—”

But Lilia just laughs, giving Sebek a playful whack on the back. “Come now, Sebek, it’s all in good fun!"

Sebek looks torn between yelling and fainting, muttering to himself about propriety and why, oh why, would the young master be so entranced by a human?!

You just barely manage to keep it together until they leave, but the second you’re alone, you collapse onto the nearest couch, burying your face in a pillow with a ridiculous grin plastered across your face. Because Malleus Draconia, fae prince and possibly the most loyal fan you’ve ever met, just kissed you on the cheek.

Somehow, you know this is just the beginning.

The fan forum has always been your little comfort zone. You’ve got your dedicated fans, who post lovingly questionable fan art, some surprisingly deep theories about your lyrics, and even the occasional meme thread.

Today, though, you’ve decided to go on a bit of a lurking spree. You want to see what people really think—especially the critics. And you do find critics, of course, all happily airing out their grievances. But what you didn’t expect is the replies.

Each negative comment has an oddly formal, razor-sharp response that’s practically dripping with eloquent disdain, all signed "M.D." You read on, completely baffled until it dawns on you: this is Malleus.

This prince has taken it upon himself to haunt your comment section, like a very sophisticated, slightly unhinged ghost. You try to keep from snickering too loudly as you scroll through his hilarious, painfully dignified rebuttals.

I-like-snails: “I don’t understand the hype. This idol is all looks, no talent.”

M.D.: “Your failure to comprehend excellence in its truest form is unfortunate. To imply that this individual relies solely on appearance demonstrates an astonishing lack of insight. Consider expanding your understanding of ‘talent.’ Signed, M.D.”

real-idol-fan: “I’ve seen cooler concepts than this ‘gothic fantasy’ nonsense. So pretentious.”

M.D.: “Ah, but what is more pretentious, dear critic? To appreciate grandeur or to boast of one’s ‘cool’ concepts with all the subtlety of a loud footstep in the night? Gothic fantasy, as you call it, possesses a depth your mind has yet to comprehend. Signed, M.D.”

aura-aura: “This idol’s lyrics don’t even make sense. They’re just trying to sound deep.”

M.D.: “An intellect as shallow as a millpond would indeed struggle to navigate profound lyrical waters. I urge you to revisit the lyrics in question after reading a book or two on metaphor. Signed, M.D.”

You have to clutch your sides as you scroll through the thread. The idea of Malleus, a literal prince, defending you with words like “millpond intellect” and signing every single comment with his initials—it’s ridiculous.

Ridiculous and, at the same time, ridiculously touching. You’d never asked him to do this, never even thought he’d care about what random people thought of you, but here he is, waging a dignified, solo war in the fan forum trenches.

After several minutes, you take a deep breath and manage to calm down, even though you know you’re never going to look at your fan forum the same way again.

It's interview time and things are going smoothly. You’re answering questions about your latest song, about the creative process behind the music videos. All very normal stuff—until the interviewer grins, pulls out a picture, and holds it up for you to see.

You squint and realize, with dawning horror, that it’s the photo. The one of you and Malleus standing close under the same umbrella, him looking at you like you hung the stars and you, very clearly, smiling back at him. Whoever took it managed to capture a moment that looks... well, almost romantic.

"So," the interviewer says, leaning in with a gleam in their eye, "is this someone special?"

You’re ready to laugh it off, to dismiss it casually with a polite “no,” but... you freeze. Looking at that photo, at the way Malleus is watching you, something catches in your throat. “No, of course not” dies on your lips.

Your mind rewinds to all the times he’s shown up, how he’s silently supported you, those comments on the forum—and suddenly, you can’t deny it, not even to yourself.

“No comment,” you manage to say, but it sounds weak, even to you.

The interviewer’s brow arches, and they chuckle knowingly. Meanwhile, you’re scrambling internally. Oh no. Oh no, you’re in trouble. You’re in deep trouble.

The raffle winner is announced, and your mouth drops open when you hear the name. “Malleus Draconia!” Your eyes scan the crowd and—yep, there he is, beaming in a way that could light up an entire stadium, looking like he’s won the lottery.

Well, technically, he has, but there’s something about his expression that suggests this is the best moment of his life. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you feel the universe smirking, because it knows exactly what it’s doing by sending you this unattainable, royally handsome fae prince.

You’d had some time to think since that interview. The photo, the “no comment,” the dawning horror in your gut as you realized that yes, you’re down bad. Horrifically so. In the week since the interview, you’d come to accept it. The only issue? He's so out of your league, it’s practically laughable.

Meanwhile, Malleus is practically vibrating with excitement. As soon as his name was drawn, half of his kingdom exploded in celebratory fanfare. (To be fair, most of the Briar Valley population had entered the raffle in his name. “Statistical advantage,” Lilia had called it.)

By the time he gets home, he’s already lining up outfits, preparing what he calls “appropriate tokens of affection.”

“Perhaps... a small gargoyle?” he muses, clutching a miniature stone sculpture that weighs about as much as a small human child.

Silver clears his throat. “Maybe... consider something less... heavy?”

Undeterred, Malleus sighs but places the gargoyle back, moving on to his backup plan: a solid gold gargoyle instead.

Lilia, in the background, chimes in with, “Just give them a rock and say it’s a Briar Valley special!” Malleus ignores him.

The day arrives, and you’re waiting at a cafe for Malleus. The producers are buzzing around, setting up lights and cameras for some wholesome footage to share with your fans. You’re running through the usual script in your mind, but then Malleus walks in, looking... well, looking like Malleus. Tall, regal, glowing with excitement, and completely out of place in the modern cafe.

You’re trying to keep your cool, reminding yourself that he’s just a fan here to meet his favorite idol, but when he brushes his hand against yours as he takes his seat, you’re thrown into chaos. Wide-eyed, flustered chaos. In fact, you’re so visibly affected that one of the producers has to muffle a squeal.

You glance at Malleus, and for a second, it’s like the two of you are in your own little world, oblivious to the cameras. You’re laughing, he’s smiling in that polite but endlessly fascinated way, and it feels like the meet-cute scene in every cheesy K-drama ever made.

After the cafe, the producers decide to set up at a bowling alley. It’s cute, casual, and definitely low-stakes—or so you think. You explain the game rules to Malleus, who nods in solemn understanding. Then, you hand him a bowling ball and stand back, figuring he’ll get the hang of it soon enough.

Except... Malleus does not get the hang of it.

He lifts the ball with such enthusiasm and raw power that when he bowls, it lands with a thunderous bang. The ball rockets down the lane like it’s been launched out of a medieval trebuchet, shattering the pins with explosive force and completely obliterating the machinery behind them.

The bowling alley is plunged into silence. Even the producers are speechless.

You, however, are not. You burst out laughing so hard, tears actually stream down your cheeks, and you double over, clutching your stomach. Malleus, meanwhile, looks at the wreckage he’s caused with a sheepish expression and asks, “Did I... do it wrong?”

You’re still laughing too hard to answer. His expression is priceless—equal parts apologetic and baffled. For all the confusion on his face, he’s smiling too, in that warm, captivated way, like every sound of your laughter is worth all the destroyed bowling alleys in the world.

One of the crew members has to remind you both to stop standing in the wreckage.

After the... eventful bowling alley scene, you suggest something calmer, like feeding ducks at the park. You arrive with a bag of crumbs, ready for a relaxed, picturesque afternoon.

Malleus seems thrilled at the prospect of feeding these “quaint little birds.” He declares “I will bestow upon them many crumbs.”

But, as it turns out, ducks seem to be as unnaturally drawn to Malleus as your fanbase is to you.

The ducks start waddling toward you, sure, but when Malleus bends down to offer a handful of crumbs, they completely mob him. You watch in bewildered amusement as the ducks clamber onto him, flapping and honking, climbing his shoulders, even perching on his head like he’s the world’s fanciest scarecrow.

“I... seem to be... a duck magnet,” he murmurs, looking helplessly at you, as if apologizing for attracting every duck within a ten-mile radius. He’s totally overwhelmed, but also somehow completely fine with it. If you find this amusing, then it’s a noble cause in his mind.

They hop onto his lap, perch on his shoulders, and one brave little duck even nestles itself on his head, honking proudly as it looks down at him.

You’re giggling again, snapping photos with your phone as he stands there, a bemused fae prince turned accidental duck king. Malleus, standing there covered in feathery chaos, looks up at you, his expression softening at the sight of your laughter. You think you see the smile on his lips, and you’re certain this day can’t get any better.

Dinner with Malleus feels like the culmination of every daydream you’ve ever had and every moment you tried to ignore the thrill he gives you. The restaurant is all soft lighting and quiet music, and you’re seated across from him, barely able to touch your food because you’re too busy trying not to stare. Or at least, not to make it obvious you’re staring.

But it’s impossible not to. Malleus, in the soft glow of the candles, looks ethereal in a way that’s borderline unfair. He’s taken off his usual high-collared cloak, and he’s looking at you with an openness that feels both heart-wrenching and unbelievably warm. His eyes hold that steady, unwavering gaze that has you feeling more exposed than any stage spotlight.

You’re talking about something light—music, maybe, or the utterly ridiculous game of bowling earlier. But the words are just filler, a flimsy attempt to distract yourself from the absolute burning feeling in your chest, a feeling you’re starting to realize is a little too big to be brushed aside.

It’s love.

It’s as terrifying as it is exhilarating. You’re looking at him, and it’s all you can do to not reach across the table, grab his hand, and say something incredibly unhinged like, “Hi, you don’t know it yet, but we’re soulmates.”

He leans in, head tilted as he listens to you with that pure, undivided attention. And then, his lips quirk into a faint smile, and you’re done for. Absolutely, completely done for.

Dinner wraps up, and he offers you his arm as you both leave the restaurant and step into the cool night. You take it, fingers curling around his elbow, and feel the warmth of him through the fabric.

The street is quiet, and the moon is hanging low, casting an almost dreamlike glow over everything. And you—well, you’re looking at him like he’s the moon itself, like he’s the only thing worth looking at in the whole universe.

You’re walking slowly, so slowly it feels like the moment is stretching forever, but somehow that’s not enough. You can’t stand it; you can’t stand just holding his arm and pretending this feeling isn’t eating you alive. So, finally, you stop, turn to him, and without even a thought to what this might mean for your career or the scandal it could stir, you say, “Malleus?”

He looks down at you, eyes soft, waiting.

And you just… go for it. You lean up, heart pounding so hard it’s a miracle he can’t hear it, and kiss him.

The world stands still. For a second, you wonder if you’ve overstepped, if maybe he’s going to pull away or question you or—

But then he’s kissing you back. Immediately. Thoroughly. His hand rises to cup your cheek, and he leans in with a gentleness that completely undoes you. You feel the warmth of him, the tenderness in his touch, and it’s enough to make your knees weak.

When you finally pull away, breathless, you look up to find him watching you with an expression that’s somewhere between wonder and the same sort of ache you’re feeling.

And right now, the only thing that makes sense is to kiss him again.

So you do.

This time, it’s softer, slower, like you’re both savoring it, letting the world fall away until it’s just you and him in the middle of the quiet, moonlit street.

When you finally pull back again, there’s a lingering silence. You don’t know what to say. How do you explain to someone that you’re completely undone by them? That you’re staring at him and barely restraining yourself from saying things like, “Let’s make matching T-shirts,” and “You’re my favorite human being, even if you’re technically not human.”

He’s still gazing at you, lips curved in that barely-there smile, looking utterly unphased yet somehow entirely aware of the fact that you’re melting. He’s looking at you like you’re something delicate, something precious, and it’s honestly making you want to pull him down and kiss him senseless all over again.

But instead, you just laugh, quiet and breathless. He raises a brow, a faint smirk playing at his lips. “Are you laughing at me?” he asks, in a tone that’s half curious, half amused.

“No,” you say, “I’m just… realizing something.”

“And what’s that?”

You look at him, eyes shining, and feel that burning again, that truth too big to ignore. “I’m completely in love with you.”

He doesn’t look shocked; instead, he just leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. And in that moment, you feel it again—the absolute certainty that you’re screwed. Because here’s a man who looks at you like you’re his whole world, and now that you’ve had a taste of this—of him—there’s no going back.

Masterlist

[goldfades]

★ YOU AND ME, WE'D BE A BIG CONVERSATION─── PB⁵ (part 1/3)

❪ requested -> "paige x famous!reader (singer, actress, up to u) inspired by endgame by ts where p reveals that r is her celeb crush in an interview and a few days later theres a vid of r responding to it saying shes been obsessed w paige lately / its such a big deal bc r has been involved in a lot of romantic drama lately so everyone is kinda iffy abt her rn, causing her to put up a tough guard. but p sees thru the facade when they start talking and allows her to be herself, making r fall even harder 🥹 " ❫ for my disco nonnie!

─ warnings | gossip, a lot of drama and random ass names (sorry i get confused when i don't name them), mention of panic attacks, hurt to comfort, pretty sure nothing else?

⇨ missing out on updates? check out my wcbb masterlist!

"Y/N L/N, ONE OF the biggest names right now in the music industry has found herself at the center of yet another romantic scandal involving her ex and now, reportedly a new lover."

The 22-year-old pop sensation, who recently topped the charts with her latest single, was spotted last night leaving an upscale Los Angeles restaurant with actress and heartthrob, Camilla Harrison. The two were seen getting into the same car, sparking rumors of a budding romance.

This sighting comes just weeks after Y/N's highly publicized breakup with fellow musician Lauren Marie, with whom she had a tumultuous on-again, off-again relationship for over two years. The split was reportedly mutual, with both parties citing busy schedules and the pressures of their careers as contributing factors. However, sources close to the couple suggest that Marie was unhappy about Y/N's close friendship with Harrison, which began on the set of her recent music video where Marie made a cameo appearance.

"Y/N and Cam have undeniable chemistry," says an insider. "They've been spending a lot of time together, and it's more than just a professional connection. They're trying to keep things low-key, but it's clear there's something more than friendship between them."

Despite the drama, Y/N continues to thrive professionally. Her upcoming album set to release in the next couple month, is already generating significant buzz. Critics are calling it her most mature work yet, with deeply personal lyrics that reflect her recent experiences.

Meanwhile, Harrison, 26, known for her roles in blockbuster films and her good looks, has remained tight-lipped about the rumors. Her publicist declined to comment, stating that Marie is concentrating on her upcoming film projects.

──

"Okay, next question," the reporter smiled as she scrolled through her phone as Paige gave a tight-lipped smile toward the camera. "Oh! Found a good one, okay. Who is your celebrity crush right now."

"That's easy!" Paige laughed as she glanced toward the reporter. "Y/N L/N, she's beautiful and insanely talented,"

The room filled with laughter as the reporter raised an eyebrow, clearly delighted by the response. "Y/N L/N, huh? That's a popular choice these days, a lot of people are big fans. Have you met her?"

Paige shook her head, her cheeks slightly flushing. "Nah, I wish. But I'm a huge fan of her music. Every song is a masterpiece and I'm not usually into pop,"

"Interesting," the reporter leaned forward, intrigued. "You know, there are rumors about Y/N's love life all the time. How do you feel about all the speculation surrounding her personal life?"

Paige shrugged, maintaining her relaxed demeanor despite the stupid question. "I think it's tough being in the spotlight like that. People forget that celebrities are human too. Everyone deserves a bit of privacy, I'm more interested in her work and what she brings to the music industry rather than whoever she's dating."

The reporter nodded, appreciating Paige's perspective. "Absolutely. It's refreshing to hear someone focus on the artistry rather than the gossip!"

──

"Okay, quick. Who's your celeb crush right now, other than Cam," Bowen Yang, grinned at you, raising an eyebrow as the audience laughed, eagerly awaiting your response.

You laugh (and decide to ignore the comment about Cam), feeling a slight blush creep up your cheeks. "Oh, come on, Bowen, you can't put me on the spot like that!"

Bowen leaned in, his grin widening. "Come on, Y/N, the people want to know!" He pointed to the crowd as they cheered, causing you to put your face in yours hands.

You then take a deep breath, pretending to think hard. "Fine, if I have to choose... I'd say Paige Bueckers. She's incredible on the court, and I've seen some interviews with her ─ she seems like such a cool person."

The audience erupts with loud cheers, causing both you and Bowen to laugh. Bowen's eyes widen, clearly delighted by your answer as he clapped. "Ooh, scandalous! Paige Bueckers, I love that! Have you met her?"

You shake your head, smiling. "No, not yet. But I did see a clip of her saying some really nice things about me recently. It was super sweet."

Bowen's face lights up with excitement. "She was practically gushing over you, this is perfect, we need to make this happen. Maybe you could collab, I don't know how but uh, if anyone could make it happen, it's you."

"Thank you, I think?" You laugh, nodding. "Totally, we'll see what happens."

Bowen turns to the camera, his enthusiasm infectious. "You heard it here first, folks! Y/N and Paige Bueckers, the crossover we never knew we needed but now desperately want!"

The audience erupts in applause and cheers, and you can't help but smile at the idea. Bowen turns back to you, his tone shifting slightly more serious. "Alright, before we wrap up, I have to ask ─ how do you deal with all the attention and rumors about your personal life? It seems like you're constantly in the spotlight."

You take a moment to gather your thoughts, caught off guard by the serious question. "It's um, definitely challenging at times, but I try to focus on the positive aspects. I love making music and my fans. As for the rumors, I just remind myself that I can't control what people say or think. I stay true to myself and the people who really know me, and that's what matters most."

Bowen nods appreciatively. "Wise words, Y/N. And that's why we love you so. Thank you so much for being here tonight."

"Thank you for having me," you reply, genuinely touched by the support.

"And that's Y/N L/N!"

The crowd erupts in cheers as you genuinely smile, happy for the support, waving toward the audience.

──

"Hey everyone, welcome back to the podcast I'm Lila, and today we've got a lot to talk about. Y/N L/N is at the center of yet another romantic scandal, and there's even a new twist involving basketball star Paige Bueckers. Let's dive in!" Lila said, her enthusiasm palpable.

"Yaya, so excited," Maya chimed in, adjusting her headphones. "So, Y/N was spotted last night leaving an upscale LA restaurant with actress Cam Harrison. They got into the same car, which has everyone buzzing about a possible new romance."

"Yeah, and this is just weeks after her very public breakup with Lauren, I think that's her name? It's been a whirlwind, to say the least. But honestly, I think Y/N is handling it all pretty well. She's focused on her music, and she's just living her life. What's your take, My?" Lila asked, leaning in slightly.

Maya sighed, her skepticism evident. "I don't know, Lila. I get that she's young and living her life or whatever, but it feels like there's always some new drama with her. First Lauren, now Cam Harrison? It's starting to look like a pattern."

"But that's thing, with being in your early twenties. Figuring out what you want, who you want to be with? I mean, she's also incredibly talented and driven. Her new album is generating a ton of buzz and it hasn't even been released yet," Lila countered, her voice full of admiration.

"Sure, but it seems like she's always entangled in some romantic drama. Maybe it's just the nature of fame or whatever, but it can also come off as messy. And now, with Paige Bueckers gushing about her in that interview, it adds another layer. I just hope she’s not stringing people along," Maya replied, her tone annoyed.

Lila nodded, annoyed at Maya's words but maintaining her supportive stance. "I get where you're coming from, but did you see Paige's reaction? She was genuinely excited about Y/N. It was sweet. Plus, Y/N responded so positively on the SNL interview. I think it shows she's got a good heart and she's just navigating her way through a complicated life!"

Maya hesitated for a moment as she glanced at the camera, then continued. "I mean, look at Taylor Swift. She's known for her string of high-profile relationships and breakups, and it hasn't always been received positively. It feels like Y/N is heading down a similar path- What?"

"Come on, Maya!" Lila glared at her, clearly displeased. "Comparing Y/N to Taylor Swift isn't fair. Taylor's faced a lot of unfair criticism for just living her life and expressing herself through her music. Y/N is her own person, with her own journey. She's navigating her twenties in the spotlight, and that's not easy."

Maya just shrugged as she glanced toward the camera, before adjusting her mic. "Well that got awkward, moving on..."

──── COMMENTS

sela 🐾 | is she wrong though... love her music but why'd paige gotta get involved too? ♡ 108

↳ l/nslover | cause they like each other???

↳ 🦕 | has bro ever heard of a pr relationship 😭

↳ ari! | THEYRE NOT EVEN TOGETHER YET BROOO😭😭😭

sarah™️ | LILA GET THE HELL OUTTA THERE BROOOO 😭😭 i never liked maya tbh this is just a weird ass take ♡ 1.7k

kayla 🎀 | listen as a y/n girly i also understand maya's point of view cause.... shes kinda for the streets ♡ 879

↳ ™️ | dont call yourself a """"" y/n girly """""" if ur gonna say she's for the streets??? the fuck??

⭐️ | i was understanding maya's pov up until she started saying all that taylor swift bullshit, they're two separate artists LET US LIVEEEEEEE ♡ 2k

josie may | hardest watch of the day 🥲 maya u let us down with that dumb ass take

──

"I just kinda... wanna disappear for awhile," you confessed, your voice quiet as you pressed the phone to your ear. "Don't know why this keeps happening, you're the only that can... help me through it. Sorry if I woke you up-"

It happened again ─ over the last couple of months (ever since you'd broken up with Lauren) you'd gotten pretty severe panic attacks. You were told by everyone on your team to just stay off social media and what had you done... exactly the opposite of that.

"No, no, I was awake anyway, promise," Paige's voice echoed through the phone. You heard shuffling through the phone as you sniffled, sighing. "And I don't mind, like at all. I meant what I said, I'm always here for you,"

Your heart swelled as you managed a smile, as tears began to build in your eyes. You and Paige had only been talking a month and she already understood you more than anyone had in what felt like forever. Her steady presence was like an anchor in the storm of your life.

The constant media scrutiny and the aftermath of your breakup with Lauren had left you feeling alone, but Paige’s calming influence was slowly becoming your safe haven.

"I just... I don't know how to deal with all of it. The rumors, the pressure, it's all so overwhelming," you admitted, wiping away the tears that had started to fall. "Half of it, it isn't even true."

"Hey, it's okay, I know, I believe you," Paige's voice was soothing, almost like a warm embrace over the phone. Even the smallest affirmation from Paige made you feel all okay again, even if it was just for the moment.

"You're not alone in this. We can figure it out together, step by step."

That part made your lips twitch up in a smile, feeling yourself relax again. You took a deep breath, feeling a bit of the tension ease from your shoulders. "I just feel like I can't breathe sometimes. Like the walls are closing in, y'know?"

"I get it," Paige replied softly. She'd know about it all too well, she'd been through it herself plenty of times. "Sometimes it helps to focus on the small things. One step at a time, remember? Have you tried any of those breathing exercises I taught you?"

You nodded, even though she couldn't see you. "Yeah, a little. They help, but it’s hard to remember in the moment."

"Next time you feel a panic attack coming on, call me. Anytime, okay? We'll get through it together," Paige's voice was firm, reassuring. "You don't deserve the shit they give you, like at all."

"Thank you," you whispered, feeling a surge of gratitude. "I don't know what I'd do without you, P."

"You don't have to thank me. I care about you, and I wanna help. Plus, I like hearing your voice," Paige added with a light chuckle, trying to lift your spirits.

You couldn't help but smile at that. "Me too, especially your cute tired voice."

"Cute, really?" Paige laughed through the phone and you swore you felt like your whole world felt even again. "But uh, if you do really wanna disappear you can always come to Connecticut."

The thought of escaping the relentless spotlight, even for a little while, sounded like a dream. "Really?"

"Yeah, you can stay with me for a bit, if that's uh... what you want." Paige explained through the phone. "My friends are super chill and it's always a fun time, if you ever wanna come. Think about it?"

The idea of spending time with the basketball player you'd quickly become enthralled with, seemed almost like a dream. And getting away from LA and all the madness that came with it sounded heavenly, you were going to give Connecticut a thought.

You sighed, feeling a warmth spread through you that had been absent for far too long. "Yeah, I will. And Paige?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you. Really."

"Anytime, Y/N. Sweet dreams."

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[scapegoated-if]

DEMO (62K) SOUNDTRACK PINTEREST Prologue Release Date: 15th Dec 2024

All the leaves are brown, and the sky is grey.

18+ This interactive story includes graphic violence, sexual content, alcohol and drug use, profanity and more.

Disclaimer Gender and race-locked IF due to discussions of gender and racial politics throughout.

Take centre stage as a former-rockstar turned actress navigating your new career and the chilling grip of fan-obsession. Your once-famous band may be nothing short of a ghost of the past to you, but the rest of the world cannot seem to let go. The split in 1968 was scandalous, abrupt and mysterious. And although you’ve thrown yourself into acting and secured your first major role with a big time Hollywood director, whispers of blame have been on your tail ever since.

While most of Hollywood sees these rumours for what they are--empty gossip--a darker current takes precedence and poses a much more sinister threat to your life and the lives of those around you.

✼ Shape and mould into your truest ‘70s self. Perhaps you’re a mod-girl or a hippie? ✼ Interact with '60s and '70s icons on the Sunset Strip. ✼ Help uncover the identity of the 'Ampersand Killer' terrorising the West Coast. ✼ Decide which career path is more fitting for you. Are you made to live on the silver screen or stadium stages? ✼ Maintain and better your physical health and self-defence skills. ✼ Pick from a selection of love interests (including two gender-choice options). ✼ Includes an array of potential flings. ✼ A catalogue of original songs for fictional musicians.

Vincent "Vince" Buscemi, the ex-bandmate ⇢ You were part of one of the most renowned bands of the '60s together. Vince is a jaded soul, harbouring deep-seated reservations about many people--most notably the band's keyboardist--but he has always had a soft spot for you. Despite his guarded demeanour, he exudes effortless charm and impeccable manners, a testament to his healthy upbringing. Though widely celebrated as a pop-culture heartthrob, Vince defies superficial stereotypes. His truest passion lies in music, and it's clear that nothing in the world brings him greater joy.

Penn Hausler, the filmmaker ⇢ Though still considered an up-and-coming filmmaker, Penn has already made a name for himself as a creative force in the industry, thanks to his latest hit starring Faye Dunaway. He radiates charisma, with a shining personality and a sharp sense of humour. He's unmistakably a nerd--passionately devoted to his craft. He's also prone to being a bit of a square, often finding himself tangled in bouts of nervous awkwardness. Despite this, his unwavering commitment to his vision sets him apart, and he's not afraid to take bold creative risks. Case in point: he has cast you as a supporting actress in his next film.

Kai/Kaya Anahareo (m/f), the folksinger ⇢ Although they haven't yet broken into the mainstream, K is a highly skilled musician deeply respected by their peers. Their artistry intertwines seamlessly with their role as a political activist, with much of their protest powerfully conveyed through their music. K is the embodiment of levelheadedness, exuding an aura of calm and balance that draws people to them. Their presence is steady and reassuring, much like the songs they sing--thoughtful, impactful and unwavering.

Dorinda Fisher, the journalist ⇢ Dorinda is a sharp, driven and fiercely dedicated journalist. Relentless in her pursuit of a story or a hard-to-find answer, she doesn't back down easily. Hailing from a small town, she's well-read and possesses a no-nonsense approach to life. You first crossed paths through your bandmate, whom she dated earlier in your career. During the US leg of your tour, she joined the band on the road while freelancing, documenting the whirlwind of your band's journey during a fair few defining months in your rise to fame.

Please note: You will have the option to decide whether the two of you had a romantic connection in the past while you were on the road. If you choose not to follow through with this backstory, you can still romance her as a new connection.

Phillip/Phyllis Wright (m/f), the movie star ⇢ P is a Hollywood icon, a name already as timeless and celebrated as the likes of both Hepburns, Cary Grant and Sidney Poitier. An Academy Award-winning actor, they embody the pinnacle of cinematic stardom, capturing Penn's admiration and dream of collaboration. Known for their charm, striking good looks and effortless sophistication, P commands every room they enter.

Lesley Nielsen, the detective ⇢ Detective Inspector Nielsen is a man married to his work. His guarded and disciplined demeanour can often make him seem laborious, but beneath the tough exterior lies a dry wit and the ability to crack a well-timed joke. A strikingly handsome gentleman, he's adept with a handgun and keeps one at his side at all times. A seasoned veteran of the force, Nielsen only crosses paths with you once he's assigned as the lead detective on the high-profile Ampersand Killer case. Whether you share much in common is up in the air, but one thing is certain: your mutual determination to bring a cold-blooded murderer to justice.

[ilariyalavorowrites]

Time enough for love (Bridgerton) Part One

imagine: A mission to ensure Kate and Anthony find each other during the social season of 1814. Time travelling into the past to ensure that crucial moments occur. However, you find yourself falling in love with the pair. It breaks your heart when it comes to leaving and returning to the future.

Warnings: Angst with an eventual happy ending, AU, Bisexual Kate, Scandal, such a scandal

Pairings: Kate Sharma x Reader x Anthony Bridgerton

Word count: 2,831 words

Universe: Bridgerton

Reader gender: Female

Author: Ilariya_Lavoro writes

Tagged: @agathaharknessfan96 @homie0sapien @a-lil-bit-nuts

Part one of ?

Next

1814 

Night of the Featherington Ball

It was over; the mission had been a roaring success, then why did you feel so damn hollow? You had completed every objective down to the letter and tackled each obstacle as it arose. Yet, you couldn’t shake this heaviness pressing down, refusing to budge. It was as if a lead tonne weight lingering here, chained tightly around your ribcage. A continual reminder of what had been. What could never be.

You shouldn’t be feeling like this; this should have been nothing short of a cut-and-dry race to the finish, straight from A to B, right? 

This was where you meant to jump off, go home, and simply pack away any forbidden thoughts of them. You would report in one last time with your head held high and simply walk away. Never once looking back over your shoulder, in hopes that…

No, you could not think like that. It would not do. You needed to move forward, wading through the muddle of emotions that flooded your senses. You could not let them consume you, regardless of how easy that might seem at this moment in time. How effortless it might be to simply let the rush of a wondrous collection of memories wash over you, allowing the warmth and joy back in. Living in all that had been but no, that could not be.

It was never meant to be your life, they were never yours to begin with. The unexpected result of your actions was just that, a blip in time. A second that would rapidly disappear as soon as the clock hand inched forward. Time moved on without hesitation, and so must you. You had done your job, it was time to leave and return to your own time, to that one cold and barely furnished bedroom flat that you called home.

This might have been the first occasion that you had been called up to lead an operation on the ground. For you had to be part of more missions and operations than you could count but they were nothing like this. 

For this was what you had trained for, the last ten years could and would not be wasted due to the simple fact that you couldn’t put those troublesome feelings to bed. You cursed silently as you began to pace back and forth. 

For you had been able to separate yourself before, view them as objectives to be completed.  It had been a job just like all the others. Nothing was different. Ensuring that fate's designs were painted into being, letting the breath of existence breeze through as the bright colours danced for all to see. It has been illuminating to witness the weaving of the threads upon the loom as it tightened and pulled this way and that until the artistry was revealed for all to see. 

You knew what was likely to occur when you returned to the base. Your superiors would see what was plainly displayed on your face. Labelling you as emotionally compromised and needing to be fixed before redeployment could be an option. A visit to the Doctor. He who haunts and darkens the basement corridors where few would dare to tread.  

His particular set of skills did indeed have their uses but the price was one, so steep that most would reluctantly follow through. Usually only with a gun pressed firmly in one back if not done voluntarily. That high price was relatively simple, you would lose what you desperately clung to. Any memory of this operation would be scrubbed away. Leaving a void where they had once been. A memory wipe, for it would be as if you had been restored to your factory settings.

It would be as if you hadn’t been selected in the first place. The last ten years would melt away, and false memories would be slotted in to create a new narrative—one without this infraction of the highest order. As your internal clock was wound back, all that had been would fade out of existence.

The situation was fraught, you were torn between your professional drive and your own desires. You stood at a crossroads, terrified to turn left or right. Either path would bear a heavy cost. Neither would leave you without a lick of damage in one form or another. You had no choice really. You sighed, resigned to the fact that your fate would be sealed with a click of a singular button. If you dared to press it. 

Your finger hovered over the SEND icon. This was your point of no return, for there would be no going back once you had pressed it. The signal would be sent and the extraction would begin. The very notion of finding a place within their world was next to impossible. The relationship that you longed for was nothing short of scandalous. It would be ruinous for all involved but such desires were pure fantasy.

All you could do now was to burn the bridges that led straight back to Kate and Anthony. In that split second, as you ruminated on your choices and the consequences, weighing up all the little details and avenues. 

There was a path, straightforward and painless at your feet. The true pain would be along in the days that followed as you waited for the Doctor to come calling. As the weight came crashing down upon your shoulders, pushing you further into the depths of despair until you simply could not say no.

For how can a wound of the heart bleed, if it wasn’t there, to begin with?

"All in the name of King and Country…" -----------------------------------------------------------------------------St James’s House, On the outskirts of London 2037

This was it.

You could barely contain the excitement that buzzed through your veins as you marched down the corridor towards the hanger. Your commanding officer would be waiting for you, ready to commence the next stage of the operation. This day had been just over the horizon for more than a few years, as instructions and neverending etiquette lessons were drilled into you.

Your role was vital to the mission but you would not be alone in the field. The others had long since gone ahead to establish their cover within the Ton. Now it was your turn. Your hair was tightly fashioned into what was deemed fit to meet regulation standards. No hair would fall out of place whilst you remain within these halls.

The tiled floors beneath your boot-covered feet gleamed brightly, as the rays of the midday sun shone through a nearby window. The building housing the unit had long since been converted from its original purpose. Most onlookers would have no idea what occurred behind these ornately carved stone walls.

This spacious building had once been a stately home up until the moment that the family who owned it fell into a state of financial ruin. The Department wasted no time in purchasing the land and all the buildings that were a part of the estate. Lining the edge of the expansive ground with razor wire-topped fencing to keep the curious out. Guards and officers posted at the perimeter to enforce the message that this was a military base of operation with a tight security detail.

The illustrious parties that these grand halls once hosted were often the subject of chatter amongst the ranks. One of the ballrooms had been converted into the mess, where more than a few found themselves whisked off into romantic daydreams. Imagining the musicians striking up a melody as men and women paired to dance the night away.

“Captain!” A voice called, pulling you out of your contemplation. There standing a few metres ahead was the source of the voice. Seeing the young private in his regulation uniform brought a soft smile to your lips. This young recruit nervously returned the gesture as you quickened your pace.

“Good afternoon Private” You greeted them, your tone even but tinges of warmth leaking through, trying to calm their nerves. You didn’t bite, well unless you were asked to.

“I was sent to escort you down by General Harkerl” You nodded, confirming and relaying your confirmation of the information. 

“Then lead on Private '' You swiftly responded, as the young recruit turned on their heel and walked away. You followed after them through the hallway, climbing down the metal staircase at the other end which descended into the hanger. You walked in silence as the wide open space was revealed to you. Heavy-duty wires and cable ran the length of the Hangar with various and differing pieces of scientific equipment lining the walls.

The General in all her glory, stiffly stood in the middle of the structure. The stripes that she fought hard for, were proudly displayed for all to see and aspire to. If she could achieve that rank, anyone could. She had always been one of the role models that you held in esteem as you fought to show that you deserved to be here, to be counted amongst the heroes and veterans who have paved the way for you and all who followed.

As you stepped off the stairs and onto the marble floor below, the Private halted before bowing to the General and then making a hasty exit. They had done their job to the letter, a quick escort and delivery mission for one as green and new as them. You could painstakingly remember being given such tasks way back when you had started out.

You had started from the bottom, grunts at the beck and call of your superiors, even small jobs held valuable experience. This recruit would learn this in time. Your gaze turned to fall upon the stern and weathered face of the superior officer and commanding force who had recruited each individual member of the team. 

“Ready to begin, are we Captain?” General Harker, with a cool but professional tone, addressed you. “You understand the parameters of this operation and the consequences should you fail”

A shiver of fear shot through you, as you considered the chance that you might fail. No, you could not dare to believe that failure was even an option. “Yes, Ma’am” You answered, knowing that her gaze was upon you, reading even the slightest expression that might arise. Yet, you remain hidden beneath your well-practised mask, a calm, steady but neutral expression that held even if underneath it all truly you were an utter bundle of nerves.

She curtly nodded, a small smile broke through but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared before turning her attention to the small control booth off to one side signalling them to begin.

“Good Luck Captain, Safe Travels” 

The Department had long since perfected the Art of Time Travel for Operations such as the one, that you were about to embark on. The organisation had been built from the ground up by a few remarkable individuals who had believed that it was possible to travel through time, and who had fought tooth and nail after each failed experiment. Until that one miraculous day when all the pieces fell into place.

You were aware of the existence of the founders but never had been deemed worthy enough to stand in their presence. They were a mixture of creatives, scientists and military men who were the best and brightest in their chosen fields and had long since retired and handed over the keys to the kingdom. However, their influence was still felt to this day.

A crackle of a microphone being switched on alerted you that it was about to begin. The journey through time. You took a deep breath as an unfamiliar voice was projected around the room, echoing and bouncing off the walls.

“Close your eyes, Captain, and Good Luck” Your eyes slide shut, as the familiar sounds of a machine whirring as it surged into life to carry out its task of transporting you through time. How it exactly worked was a highly guarded secret. On a strictly need-to-know basis and you didn’t need to know.

General Adelaide Harker watched from within the booth as you disappeared. The petite, stocky battle-hardened woman was firmly in her fifties. Her body was littered with scars that could pen her story but now all she could do was patiently wait. How she hated no longer being fit for active duty, her body faded with age and numerous injuries that had forced her onto the sidelines.

She had been hand-picked herself by the founders after the last bout in the hospital many prior whilst she was recovering from a lengthy and complex surgery. This had been a new lease of life, a way to serve her Country from the shadows. This operation was one of the few that the Founders had meticulously planned from the very beginning. Nothing had been left to chance. They trusted her to carry their secrets and ensure success with each of the missions.

When she had initially read through the Manila portfolio that was Operation 1814. She had laughed, confused by the need to secure a matrimonial match within the aristocracy. She pushed for answers only once. Only to meet with a gentle almost grandfatherly smile from the most senior of the founders Sir Theodore before he briefly spoke.

His words had stunned her into silence. To this day, she had never truly understood the meaning behind his wise words but she trusted his and other founders’ guidance.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------March 20th 1814

Your stomach felt as if it had been tied up in knots, as the sensation of being pulled through time and space slowly faded away. It was a bizarre and almost impossible sensation to put into words as your physical body was transported from one moment in history to the next.

It never was plain sailing, no matter how many times you had been through it. The nausea would dissipate in a few hours but the headache would linger on. You’d have to push through. Each person who used the method concocted by the Department suffered differently. Some found themselves unable to walk as their legs trembled, reduced to a feeling of being made of jelly. Others collapsed from complete and utter exhaustion, feeling as if they had been drained of all but a drop of energy.

You opened your eyes to find yourself standing in the middle of a wheat field as dawn crept over the horizon. Reds, Yellows and Oranges bled together as if they were upon an artist’s palette being blended for the next brush stroke on the canvas. 

Fragile dew drops clinging to blades of grass which had grown in between each of the shafts of wheat. It was as if you had wandered into a dream or one of the many fine oil paintings hung on the walls of a museum. 

These few precious moments were always when you could simply stand and enjoy your last moment to breathe and enjoy the stillness of the world as the sun rose to greet the day. A warmth seeped through, caressing and embracing you, the golden rays of sunlight danced through the treeline off in the distance. What a most wonderful morning indeed.

Remembering what you read before heading off to the hangar, you knew that the lead scout would meet you upon the hour of your arrival. Still dressed in your most comfortable combat fatigues, it was time to make a move before you were discovered by another.

The sound of approaching hooves alerted you to the small fact that you were no longer alone in the middle of nowhere. Was this a stranger or the scout? Concern rose within you but hearing your name shouted was enough to settle your nerves.

As the figure drew closer astride a chestnut brown mare, you tried to make out the finer features of what seemed to be the face of a scowling man beneath the hooded cloak. His dark gaze and blonde locks were barely hidden by the fur lining of the hood. He was dressed mostly finely for an early morning ride through the countryside and could easily mistaken for one of dime a dozen gentlemen just riding through but you knew better.

This was Lieutenant Commander Edward Wren, formerly of His Royal Majesty's armed forces. You had only met a handful of times but he was known for his dry wit and relentless professionalism. He could cut you to shreds with only a few words or a single look. This was not something you could easily forget. “Come, we have a few miles to ride and no time to waste” 

Once he was finished speaking, he leaned forward in the saddle, offering a hand to help pull you to be seated either in front or behind him. You reached to take his hand, ready for whatever might lie in store. This would be thrilling, no matter whatever waited for you down in good old London Town.

[fuckyeahchinesefashion]

random ask but should love and deepspace become a cdrama or an animated series, which actors do you think will fit the bill?

I think this is a really interesting and meaningful question. Thank you for the question. Tbh I don't think any actors will fit. This involves an idea or unwritten rule of chinese fandoms including xianxia fiction and especially otome game (by especially I mean If Paper is going to do this, it's crazy, it's suicidal, it wants to go out of business, and no game company would dare to do this, including genshin impact. Chinese players will kill them no kidding lmao. Because of this, such attempts also face a vacuum market that no consumer or audience will buy into. If they ever do this, it must be all of them possessed by aliens). Chinese fandoms think no real persons can be compared with or can cast zhipianren纸片人(lit. paper people, referring to all fictional characters born in two dimensions such as art, novels, animations and games, etc., with positive overtones). They call the practice of capitalists trying to bring live-action revival on zhipianren/paper people 真人化zhenrenhua(real people casting paper people, slightly pejorative in fandoms and neutral in non-fandoms). They think zhipianren is pure and remains artistry given by their creators. And actors for otome game characters? I asked my chinese friend and she said shockingly 真人请勿碰瓷纸片人 meaning real people stop piggybacking on paper people's popularity and clout. So that is basically the fundamental viewpoint of chinese otome game fandoms. I don't think they are haters of actors because so many players believe that otome characters are real in another dimension, in fact not only otome but also many other fandoms, and artists also believe that their OCs are real in another dimension. It's almost a kind of pure faith. In addition they believe that the appearance and grooming of zhipianren is perfect, and this perfection does not refer to their bodies or faces, but to a kind of demeanor and temperament of theirs, which, because it exists only in a two-dimensional space, can be fully imagined and experienced by people. Zhenrenhua will completely ruin the imagination and the pleasure. Besides the point, chinese fandoms always get the first hand information of chinese entertainment industry so they've seen too many nasty scandals and flops of male actors especially idol actors. Cnetizens are pungently honest, and most of them just despise male chinese actors, especially idol actors (excluding a few with both talents and personal morals and proved himself with years of efforts, e.g. zhang songwen张颂文 in The Knockout/狂飙 but he is not idol actors so). Just because these idol actors have a large following on social media doesn't mean the general public likes them. I asked my friend and she said there's also the fact that people are extremely picky about the appearance of actors playing zhipianren, and it has nothing to do with discrimination, people just don't want their imaginations tarnished. But there are a few zhenrenhua that are big hit, and even though there are still a few hard-core fans of the original work who boycott them, the general public and a lot of fans of the original work love them, e.g. the Untamed陈情令, and Yi Ren Zhi Xia异人之下/The Outcast (the cdrama version, and they think the movie version recently released is a piece of shit). That's why I agree with them that there is no actor who will fit the bill.

[vir-tanadahl]

Rating: (E) Pairing: Solas / Lavellan / Felassan Spicy Rating: 🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️❤️‍🔥

Summary: Under moonlight and magic, Felassan shares enchanted drinks with Solas and Lavellan—potions meant to relax and open the heart. Playful teasing and warm laughter give way to lingering glances and an undeniable connection. As boundaries blur and affection deepens, the trio’s night unfolds into something tender, intimate, and passionately shared.

In the heart of the wilderness, a secluded glade shimmered with ethereal light, its magic humming faintly through the trees. The air was crisp and filled with the earthy scents of the forest, mingling with the faint, tantalizing aroma of something sweeter—Felassan’s handiwork. The ancient elf, ever the playful enigma, lounged beside a small table adorned with a selection of drinks that shimmered like liquid starlight, their colors shifting with an almost hypnotic allure.

“Well,” Felassan began, his grin as sharp as ever, “since we’re all here and the night is young, I thought it only fitting to share something... special.” He gestured grandly to the drinks before them, each glowing faintly with its own magical essence. “A bit of alchemy and artistry, if I do say so myself. They’re harmless, I assure you—just a little magic to loosen the tongue and lighten the spirit. Nothing too scandalous. Unless you want it to be.” His gaze flicked to Solas, the smirk deepening. “You could use some loosening up, oh mighty Dread Wolf. Drink up.”

Solas arched an eyebrow but didn’t immediately rise to the bait. Instead, he studied the shimmering drinks with a skeptical tilt of his head. “And what, precisely, do these concoctions do?” he asked, his tone even, though the faintest hint of curiosity edged his words.

“Ah, excellent question!” Felassan clapped his hands together as if delighted to explain. “Each has a unique effect, tailored to your tastes, of course. The golden one eases tension—like sunshine in a bottle. The silver sharpens perception, perfect for those who enjoy seeing through all the little lies. Ruby sparks boldness, encouraging the kind of honest conversation we all secretly crave. And the amethyst? A gentle, comforting embrace in drink form. You’re welcome.”

Lavellan sat between the two elves, her curiosity warring with a flicker of wariness. She leaned forward slightly, the shimmering hues reflecting in her wide eyes. “And you’re sure it’s safe? Not that I doubt your skills, Felassan, but—”

“Completely safe, my dear Herald,” he interrupted smoothly. “I’d never dream of causing you harm. Just think of it as... a nudge toward fun.” He selected a ruby-hued drink and handed it to her with a flourish. “For you, something to bring out that playful spark I know is hiding in there somewhere. And for you, Solas—” He picked up a golden glass, its contents glowing softly, and thrust it toward the other elf. “Something to make you slightly less insufferable. Drink. Please.”

Solas’s lips twitched, almost forming a smile. “You are insistent.”

“And you are overdue for a good time,” Felassan countered. “Now, humor me.”

With a rare chuckle, Solas took the glass, its warmth seeping into his hand. Lavellan, emboldened by their exchange, lifted her own drink. “To loosening up?” she suggested, her tone light but teasing.

“To lightening the spirit,” Felassan amended, raising his glass in a mock toast. Solas rolled his eyes but clinked his glass against theirs, the glow of the drinks illuminating their faces as the first sip brought with it a rush of magic—subtle but undeniably enchanting. The night unfolded with laughter, teasing, and the kind of openness that only the strange and wonderful could inspire.

The first sip was a gentle nudge rather than a push, a whisper of warmth unfurling in their chests. The tension in Solas’s shoulders eased almost imperceptibly, his ever-watchful gaze softening around the edges. Lavellan, tucked between the two elves, let out a laugh—light and unguarded—as Felassan recounted some exaggerated tale about his supposed misadventures. It was a sound that carried through the glade, like a bell chime breaking through lingering dusk. Felassan’s grin only widened at the effect, his sharp violet eyes flicking between them with obvious satisfaction.

“You’re smiling, Solas,” Lavellan noted, her tone teasing but softer than usual, emboldened by the ruby-hued drink in her hand. “I was starting to think your face might crack if you tried.”

Solas arched an eyebrow, his lips twitching upward in response. “Contrary to your assumption, my face is perfectly capable of enduring the strain of joy.”

“Creator’s breath, you’re both intolerable,” Felassan drawled, lounging back on one elbow as if he were reclining on a throne. He raised his glass in mock salute. “But I must admit, this is already my finest work. My artistry unmatched. You’re welcome.”

The banter flowed as easily as the enchanted drinks, and with every sip, the trio leaned further into the comfort of the moment. Felassan, predictably, was the first to let loose a scandalous tale—something about mistaken identity, a noblewoman, and a very inopportune use of illusion magic. Lavellan nearly choked on her drink from laughing, while Solas, against all odds, let out a low chuckle that reverberated through the glade like a rare and precious sound.

When Lavellan spoke next, her voice carried the weight of something more sincere. “You know, Felassan,” she began, swirling the remnants of ruby light in her glass, “you make it look so easy—this... lightness you bring to every moment. I envy it sometimes.” She paused before glancing at Solas, her gaze steady and unflinching. “And you... you have this way of seeing everything, of making even the most fleeting thought feel like it matters. It’s... it’s rare.”

Solas blinked, caught off guard by the sudden vulnerability in her voice. The golden glow of his drink reflected in his pale eyes as he considered his response. “You are stronger than most would believe, Lavellan,” he said finally, his words quiet but clear. “Steady, even when the world seeks to shake you apart.”

The weight of the moment lingered between them, charged with something neither fleeting nor insubstantial. Felassan, perceptive as always, chose not to shatter it immediately. Instead, he took a long sip from his silver-hued drink, his gaze thoughtful beneath his ever-present smirk.

Magic buzzed faintly in their veins, sharpening every sensation. When Lavellan’s hand brushed against Solas’s as she reached for the bottle, the touch lingered a moment longer than necessary, and the warmth of it seemed to sink deep beneath her skin. Solas’s eyes caught hers then, lingering—not in analysis, not in the quiet distance he usually maintained, but with something raw and unguarded. Felassan noticed, of course, but rather than interrupt, he conjured a soft hum in the air—a resonance that seemed to vibrate in their very bones, warm and inviting. The firelight flared gently, casting long shadows and painting their faces in amber and gold.

But Felassan was not one to let such tension hang forever. “Careful, you two,” he said, voice low but teasing. “You might start thinking this moment actually means something.”

The spell broke with a startled laugh from Lavellan, and Solas’s lips curved in something close to fond exasperation. The tension shifted—not gone, but softened, threaded now with a playful warmth that felt safer, easier to hold.

The air in the glade had grown heavier, thick with the glow of enchanted drinks and the lingering hum of Felassan's quiet magic. The golden light of the fire painted their faces in soft amber hues, shadows dancing along the curves of their expressions. Lavellan reached out without thinking, her fingers brushing lightly against the sleeve of Solas’s tunic as if to dust away something invisible. Her hand hesitated there, fingertips grazing the edge of his wrist, and for a moment, the world seemed to shrink down to that single point of contact. Solas didn’t pull away. His sharp eyes met hers, steady and questioning, but not unkind.

Felassan leaned forward with a grin that was both amused and entirely too knowing. “If you’re going to touch him like that, da’len, at least make it interesting. You’re killing me with the suspense.”

Lavellan pulled her hand back with a laugh, her cheeks warming despite herself. Solas’s mouth twitched upward at the corner, a flicker of a smile there and gone, but the moment lingered, suspended between them like starlight caught in glass.

“Truly,” Felassan continued, his voice softer now as he shifted closer. One hand came to rest lightly over Lavellan’s, the other brushing Solas’s shoulder in a casual but deliberate gesture. “You two are so serious. So... careful. Perhaps I should show you how to really enjoy yourselves.”

There was no denying the thread of sincerity beneath the teasing lilt of his voice. The connection between them was tangible now—a thread pulled taut, vibrating with unspoken words and fragile possibilities. Felassan’s violet eyes flickered with mischief as he leaned back just enough to let the weight of the moment settle.

“Fine,” he said after a beat, fingers tapping against his glass. “Let’s make this more... interesting. A question for each of you. Answer honestly, or I’ll be forced to tell you another one of my stories, and believe me, I have some particularly embarrassing ones lined up.”

Lavellan arched an eyebrow, her lips curving into a wry smile. “You already sound insufferable.”

“Thank you, my dear. Now, Solas.” Felassan turned his gaze on him with predatory delight. “If you could paint the perfect scene right now, what would it look like? And don’t be boring. No dusty ruins or melancholy sunsets.”

Solas blinked, the question disarming in its intimacy. He hesitated for a breath before speaking, his voice low but clear. “It would look... something like this. But perhaps the fire would burn a little brighter, the stars a little clearer, and the company would remain... unchanged.”

For once, Felassan didn’t offer a retort. Instead, he let the weight of Solas’s words settle like dew on morning leaves.

“Excellent answer,” Felassan said softly before pushing to his feet with the grace of a predator. “Now, how about something a little more... kinetic? There’s a spell—a harmless one, I assure you—that I’ve been meaning to try. Think of it as a dance. Or, if you prefer, an exercise in trust.”

With a flourish, Felassan conjured faint threads of light from his fingertips—wisps of golden and silver energy that curled and danced in the air like smoke caught in a breeze. He offered one glowing thread to Lavellan and another to Solas. “Take them. And trust me.”

They exchanged wary glances but obeyed. The threads pulsed faintly in their hands, and as Felassan began to move—his steps fluid and deliberate—the threads guided them in turn. Solas and Lavellan found themselves drawn closer, their movements synchronized by the faint hum of magic and Felassan’s careful choreography.

At first, it was awkward—hesitant glances, stifled laughter, and clumsy steps. But soon, the rhythm smoothed out, their bodies finding a natural harmony. Lavellan’s hand brushed Solas’s again, and this time neither of them pulled away. Their fingers laced together briefly before parting as the threads of light pulled them into another spin. Felassan watched them with quiet satisfaction, his grin softer now, his eyes sharp and knowing.

But then, the thread of magic stilled. Lavellan hesitated mid-step, her breath caught in her throat as she looked up at Solas. His gaze was fixed on her, steady and unguarded, his expression stripped of its usual layers of distance and restraint. The moment trembled between them, delicate as glass.

“I—” Lavellan began, her voice faltering.

Felassan stepped closer then, his presence grounding them both as he placed a gentle hand on each of their shoulders. “It’s all right,” he said softly, his voice carrying a warmth that was almost protective. “You don’t have to be afraid of this. Not here. Not tonight.”

The fragile tension cracked, but not in a way that shattered. Instead, it unraveled slowly, gently, until Lavellan leaned forward, her forehead coming to rest against Solas’s chest. Solas’s hand came up hesitantly, fingers brushing against her hair before resting there, light as falling leaves.

The magic in the glade had changed—subtle yet undeniable, like the air just before a summer storm. The drinks in their hands shimmered faintly, their light reflecting in Lavellan's eyes as if starlight itself had pooled there. The sensation of the ruby wine lingered on her lips, a faint sweetness paired with something more ephemeral—like the distant echo of a kiss. Each sip deepened the enchantment, the magic winding through their veins, quiet and insistent, attuned to their unspoken thoughts.

Solas, seated beside her, seemed acutely aware of every shift of Lavellan’s posture, every soft breath she took. His gaze lingered, tracing the way the light caught in the strands of her hair, how her shoulders relaxed, how her fingers curled gently around her glass. He noticed everything, and for once, he made no effort to mask it. Across from them, Felassan’s sharp violet eyes were alight with mischief, but there was something else there too—something deeper, more perceptive. He saw them both, not just as they presented themselves but as they were—unguarded, unmasked, fragile and raw.

With a casual flick of his wrist, Felassan summoned faint tendrils of light from the surface of their drinks. They floated lazily upward, shimmering like fireflies. One curled around Lavellan’s fingers, tickling her skin with a soft, electric hum before drifting away to graze against Solas’s wrist. Lavellan’s breath hitched as the light scattered with her movement, leaving behind faint traces—tiny stars in her wake.

“Magic is just energy, you know,” Felassan said lightly, his voice carrying a lazy warmth. “It reacts to intention. Want to see?”

Before either of them could answer, Felassan gestured again, and light gathered around Lavellan’s shoulders, soft and golden. It coalesced into ephemeral petals—delicate, glowing flowers that tumbled gently to the ground before vanishing in faint puffs of stardust. Lavellan let out a quiet laugh, her voice edged with wonder as her fingers brushed against the fading glow.

Solas tilted his head, watching Felassan’s display. After a moment, he raised his hand, his fingers moving with deliberate care as a faint ripple of Fade energy flowed outward. It was subtler than Felassan’s magic, deeper, warmer—it wrapped around Lavellan like an invisible embrace, sinking into her skin, into her bones.

“The Fade responds to emotion,” Solas said softly, his voice low, reverent. “It mirrors what we feel but cannot say aloud.”

Around them, faint shadows rippled in hues of soft blue and silver, dancing like silk caught in a breeze. The air felt heavier, charged with something indescribable—something shared. Lavellan’s breath caught as her eyes met Solas’s, and for a moment, the world narrowed down to the space between them.

Emboldened by the drink and the magic humming in her veins, Lavellan raised her own hand. Green light sparked at her fingertips, bright and alive, crackling softly as it leaped outward. It reached toward Solas’s and Felassan’s magic, interweaving with gold and blue until it became something else entirely—something uniquely their own. The lights cocooned around them, soft and protective, shimmering with threads of shared energy that pulsed faintly in time with their heartbeats.

In the intimate glow of their combined magic, the trio had drawn closer without realizing it. Lavellan’s knee brushed against Solas’s thigh, and neither of them moved away. Felassan, ever watchful, rested his arm along the back of Lavellan’s seat, his fingertips tracing idle patterns along her shoulder. The touch was casual—effortless—but it carried weight, intention, the faint crackle of magic beneath his skin.

Felassan tilted his head, his grin sharp but softened by something else—something gentler. “Look at you two,” he said softly, his voice a murmur in the quiet. “Like moths circling a flame. What are you so afraid of?”

The words hung suspended in the air as Felassan shifted closer, his face only inches from Lavellan’s. For a fleeting moment, time seemed to stop—her breath caught, her heart stumbled—but then Felassan pulled back with a teasing grin, leaving the tension in his wake to crackle like distant lightning.

Solas’s hand brushed against Lavellan’s wrist then, his fingers lingering longer than they needed to. A faint ripple of magic passed between them, feather-light but undeniable. When she turned to meet his gaze, his eyes were steady, open in a way they rarely were.

The space between them felt fragile, shimmering with unspoken words and the weight of what could be. Lavellan’s breath trembled in her chest, her lips parting slightly as if to speak, but no words came.

Felassan leaned back, his watchful gaze softer now, as though he were content to simply bear witness to whatever came next. The magic still shimmered faintly in the air, the drinks forgotten beside them as the quiet hum of shared connection held them suspended in time.

The magic lingered in the glade, alive and breathing, as though the very air had become a living thing attuned to their emotions. The drinks, long forgotten, sat half-empty at their sides, their glow fading into the richer, more vibrant light that now pulsed softly between them. Felassan moved first, his violet eyes glinting like sunlight through honey as he lifted his hand and conjured something delicate—a breeze, warm and scented faintly of summer rain. It drifted over Lavellan’s skin, soft as silk, sending a shiver down her spine. Her breath caught, her eyes fluttering closed for a brief moment as the sensation washed over her.

Solas stirred beside her, his own magic rising in response—a soft hum, a pulse that resonated from somewhere deep within him. He extended his hand toward Lavellan’s palm, his magic brushing lightly against hers, tentative and seeking, asking for permission rather than taking. His gaze met hers then, pale and luminous, reflecting the soft glow of their combined enchantments. Lavellan tilted her head, her lips parting slightly, and she turned her hand upward to meet his.

The connection sparked—subtle but undeniable—as Solas’s magic intertwined with Felassan’s, forming tendrils of shimmering light that curled around their wrists and twined up their arms like ivy. Lavellan could feel it in her chest, a quiet thrumming that echoed in her ribcage, as though her heartbeat had fallen into step with theirs. Their breaths aligned, rising and falling in perfect unison, and for one suspended moment, it felt as if time itself had stilled.

Felassan’s usual smirk had softened into something more thoughtful, his hand still lifted, his magic pulsing faintly in the air. Slowly, the light around them dimmed—not fading entirely, but settling, as though it, too, was waiting. His voice, when it came, was steady and clear, carrying the weight of both wisdom and vulnerability.

“We can stop here,” he said softly, the teasing edge gone from his tone. “No magic, no illusions—just honesty. But if we go forward…” His words trailed off, leaving space for the choice to linger in the quiet between them.

Solas’s voice joined his, low and reverent, carrying an earnestness that seemed to cut through the very air. “Only if you’re certain, vhenan.”

Lavellan’s breath trembled as she exhaled, her gaze flitting between the two elves before settling on Solas. There was no hesitation in her eyes, only clarity and warmth. She nodded, her voice steady as she spoke.

“I am.”

The word settled over them like a key turning in a lock, like the final piece of a puzzle sliding into place. The magic flared again—not wild, not overwhelming, but steady and warm, like an embrace. It wove between them in silken threads of gold, blue, and green, binding them together not through force but through intention.

The glade fell into silence once more, but it was not empty. It was filled with breath, with shared energy, with a fragile, intimate understanding that shimmered in the space between their entwined hands and softly glowing eyes. For now, in this fleeting moment, they existed together—unmasked, unguarded, and held in the quiet sanctuary of each other’s presence.

The magic pulsed between them, a living thing that seemed to breathe with their own quickening breaths. Lavellan felt it like a caress against her skin, sending shivers down her spine. She leaned into the sensation, her body swaying slightly as if moved by an unseen current.

Felassan was the first to close the distance, his movements fluid and deliberate. He cupped Lavellan's face in his hands, his violet eyes searching hers for a moment before he leaned in. The kiss was soft at first, exploratory, but it quickly deepened as Lavellan responded with a quiet gasp. His fingers tangled in her hair, pulling her closer as his tongue traced the seam of her lips.

Solas watched, his pale eyes darkening with a mix of desire and something deeper, more complex. His hand found the small of Lavellan's back, steadying her as Felassan's kiss left her breathless. When they parted, Lavellan turned to Solas, her lips parted and flushed.

Without a word, Solas drew her to him, one hand cradling the nape of her neck as he claimed her mouth with his own. Where Felassan had been playful, Solas was intense, pouring years of longing and regret into the kiss. Lavellan moaned softly, her fingers curling into the fabric of his tunic.

From behind, Felassan slowly began pulling up the skirt of her robe. His nimble fingers traced delicate patterns along Lavellan's thighs as he slowly gathered the fabric of her robe. The magic hummed through his touch, igniting sparks of pleasure wherever his skin met hers. Lavellan shivered, pressing closer to Solas as the sensations washed over her.

Solas deepened the kiss, one hand tangling in Lavellan's hair while the other roamed her body. He swallowed her quiet gasps and whimpers as Felassan's hands inched higher, caressing newly exposed skin. The air grew thick with desire, magic crackling between them like electricity before a storm.

Felassan leaned in, his breath hot against Lavellan's ear as he whispered words of encouragement. His lips brushed her neck, trailing open-mouthed kisses along her shoulder as he eased the robe down her arms. Lavellan arched into the touch, breaking her kiss with Solas to let out a breathy moan.

Solas's eyes were dark with want as he took in the sight before him. His hands found the clasps of Lavellan's bodice, deftly unfastening them. Together, they slowly unveiled her body, their touches reverent and filled with barely restrained passion.

Solas and Felassan's eyes met over Lavellan's shoulder, a silent acknowledgment passing between them. The air crackled with shared desire and unspoken understanding. Solas's fingers traced along Lavellan's collarbone, his touch feather-light yet electrifying.

"How adventurous are you feeling, vhenan?" Solas asked, his voice low and husky.

Lavellan's breath caught in her throat. "Very adventurous," she replied, her words barely more than a whisper.

At her words, Felassan's lips curved into a knowing smile. With a graceful gesture, he conjured a shimmering veil of magic that as it settled over her eyes, the world around her dimmed and blurred.

Colors melted into hazy shapes, but every sensation seemed magnified tenfold. The whisper of breath against her skin sent shivers down her spine. The brush of fingers along her arms left trails of tingling warmth. Even the subtle shifts in the air currents became noticeable, caressing her naked flesh.

Lavellan gasped as hands - she couldn't tell whose - began exploring her body with slowness. Lips pressed against her neck, teeth grazing her collarbone.

Lavellan's senses heightened as the magical veil obscured her vision. Every touch, every whisper of breath against her skin sent waves of sensation coursing through her body. She shivered as unseen hands caressed her, teasing and exploring.

Solas's voice came low and husky in her ear. "Trust us, vhenan. Let yourself feel." His lips brushed her neck, teeth grazing the sensitive skin.

From behind, Felassan's clever fingers traced patterns along her spine, each touch leaving trails of tingling magic in their wake. "So beautiful," he murmured. "So responsive."

They guided her gently to her knees, their bodies pressed close on either side. Lavellan's breath quickened as hands roamed her flesh - one set rough and calloused, the other smooth and nimble. She couldn't tell which belonged to whom, heightening her arousal.

A warm palm cupped her breast, thumb circling her nipple as lips found the other. Lavellan arched into the touch with a soft moan. Fingers tangled in her hair, tugging gently to expose her throat. She felt the scrape of teeth, the soothing swipe of a tongue.

"Tell us what you want," Solas commanded softly.

Before she could answer, Felassan's hand slipped between her thighs. "Or perhaps we should simply take what we desire," he purred.

Lavellan gasped as Felassan's fingers found her most sensitive spots, teasing and stroking with expert precision. Solas captured her lips in a searing kiss, swallowing her moans as pleasure built within her. The two elves worked in tandem, their touches alternating between gentle caresses and firm grasps that left her trembling.

"So wet for us already," Felassan murmured approvingly, his clever fingers circling her entrance. "Shall we see how much more you can take?"

Solas broke the kiss, his breath hot against her ear. "Remember, vhenan - you need only say the word if it becomes too much."

Lavellan nodded wordlessly, beyond speech as sensations overwhelmed her. She felt herself being lowered onto something soft - a bed of moss, perhaps, conjured by magic. Hands grasped her thighs, spreading her wide. She whimpered at the feeling of exposure, heightened by her magical blindness.

A warm mouth descended on her breast as fingers teased her folds. Lavellan arched into the touch with a cry of pleasure. She felt the brush of Fade magic against her skin, heightening every sensation tenfold.

"Please," she gasped. "I need..."

"Patience, da'len," Felassan chided playfully. His tongue traced a path along her inner thigh. "We have all night to explore."

Felassan's lips curved into a mischievous smile as he traced intricate patterns along Lavellan's skin. His fingertips glowed with a soft violet light as he whispered an incantation. "May I cast a spell to enhance our connection?" he asked softly. "It won't compel you, only amplify what you already desire."

Lavellan nodded, her breath catching as she felt the magic settle over her like a warm blanket. A subtle hum resonated in her mind, barely perceptible but unmistakably there.

"Good," Solas murmured, his voice low and rich. As he spoke, Lavellan felt a gentle tug in her mind, urging her to listen. "Now relax and let go."

The suggestion washed over her, and Lavellan found herself sinking deeper into the moss beneath her. Her muscles loosened, tension melting away as she surrendered to their touch.

Felassan's fingers danced along her inner thighs, inching higher with teasing slowness. "Spread your legs wider for us," he coaxed. The words were accompanied by that same soft pull in her mind, and Lavellan found herself eagerly complying.

A pleased hum rumbled in Solas's chest as he cupped her breasts, thumbs circling her nipples. "So responsive," he praised. "Let us hear your pleasure, vhenan."

Solas's voice came low and hypnotic, each word seeming to resonate through Lavellan's entire being. "Let yourself sink deeper into bliss," he murmured. "Feel every touch magnified, every sensation heightened."

As he spoke, Lavellan felt a gentle tug in her mind, as if his words were silk threads drawing her consciousness along. She found herself eagerly following that pull, her body growing more sensitive with each passing moment. Every brush of skin against skin sent sparks of pleasure coursing through her.

"That's it," Solas praised softly. "Let go of all thought, all worry. There is only sensation now."

His hands skimmed along her sides, leaving trails of tingling warmth in their wake. Lavellan arched into the touch with a breathy moan, her inhibitions melting away. She felt herself becoming more pliant, more eager to please.

"You want to obey," Solas continued, his voice a velvety caress. "To surrender completely to our desires. It would feel so good to let go, wouldn't it?"

Lavellan nodded eagerly, beyond speech as waves of arousal washed over her. That subtle pull in her mind grew stronger, wrapping around her thoughts like a comforting embrace. She wanted nothing more than to follow where it led.

"Tell us what you want," Solas commanded gently. "Speak your deepest desires aloud."

Felassan's lips curved into a wicked grin as he lifted his hands, violet light dancing between his fingers. With a graceful gesture, shimmering tendrils of magic materialized in the air, glowing with an otherworldly radiance. They moved with fluid, serpentine grace, coiling gently around Lavellan's wrists and ankles.

The magical bonds were impossibly soft, like silk against her skin, yet unyielding. They hummed with energy, a gentle vibration that sent pleasurable tingles through her limbs. As Lavellan tested their strength, she found she could move slightly - enough to arch her back or shift her hips - but not enough to break free.

"Perfect," Felassan purred, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "Now you're at our mercy, da'len."

The tendrils seemed to have a mind of their own, tightening and loosening in response to Lavellan's movements. When she strained against them, they held firm. But when she relaxed, they gentled their grip, caressing her skin with feather-light touches.

Solas ran his hand along one of the glowing bonds, causing it to flare brighter. Lavellan gasped as a wave of sensation washed over her, the magic resonating through her entire body.

Solas's eyes darkened as he gazed down at Lavellan, her body arched and trembling beneath their touch. His voice was low and commanding as he spoke. "Open your mouth for me, vhenan."

The words seemed to resonate through Lavellan's entire being. That subtle tug in her mind became more insistent, urging her to obey. Without hesitation, her lips parted, her jaw going slack as she eagerly complied with his request.

"Good girl," Solas praised softly, his thumb tracing the curve of her lower lip. "So obedient, so eager to please."

Lavellan felt a rush of warmth at his words, a deep sense of satisfaction at having pleased him. The magical bonds hummed against her skin, sending pulses of pleasure through her body with each subtle movement.

Solas leaned down, his breath hot against her ear as he whispered, "Keep your mouth open, just like that. Don't close it until I give you permission."

Lavellan whimpered softly but didn't move, her lips remaining parted as commanded. She felt utterly exposed, vulnerable in the most exquisite way. The cool night air caressed her tongue, heightening her awareness of every sensation.

Felassan chuckled softly, his fingers dancing along her inner thigh. "Look at her, trembling with need. Shall we see how long she can maintain that pretty pose.”

Felassan's fingers traced teasing patterns along Lavellan's inner thighs as she trembled with need, her mouth still obediently open at Solas's command. The magical bonds hummed against her skin, sending waves of pleasure through her with each subtle movement.

"Such restraint," Felassan murmured approvingly. "Let's see how long you can maintain it."

His clever fingers finally found her center, stroking her slick folds with feather-light touches. Lavellan's hips bucked involuntarily, seeking more pressure, but the bonds held her in place. She whimpered softly, her breath coming in quick pants.

Solas watched intently, his eyes dark with desire. "Remember, vhenan," he said softly. "Keep your mouth open. Don't close it until I give permission."

Lavellan nodded minutely, struggling to obey as Felassan's ministrations intensified. He slipped two fingers inside her, curling them expertly to stroke her most sensitive spots. His thumb circled her clit in maddeningly slow circles.

Solas gazed down at Lavellan, her lips still parted obediently. His eyes burned with barely restrained passion as he slowly unlaced his breeches. "You've been so good," he murmured. "I think you deserve a reward."

He positioned himself before her, the tip of his arousal barely brushing her lips. Lavellan's breath quickened, her tongue darting out to wet her lips in anticipation. Solas groaned softly at the brief contact.

"Take me in your mouth," he commanded gently. "Slowly now."

Lavellan eagerly complied, parting her lips wider to accept him. She slid her mouth over his length inch by inch, savoring his taste and the weight of him on her tongue. Solas's fingers tangled in her hair, guiding her movements.

"That's it," he praised. "Just like that. Now close your lips around me and suck."

Lavellan hummed in pleasure as she followed his instructions, hollowing her cheeks as she began to work her mouth along his shaft. Solas's breath hitched, his grip on her hair tightening.

Meanwhile, Felassan continued his exquisite torture between her thighs. His clever fingers stroked and teased, building her arousal to a fever pitch. He traced lazy circles around her clit, occasionally dipping lower to tease her entrance.

"So wet," Felassan purred.

Lavellan whimpered around Solas's length, torn between the dual sensations of fullness in her mouth and the growing ache between her legs.

Solas's eyes flashed with intensity as he gazed down at Lavellan, her lips wrapped around his length. He could feel the subtle vibrations of her whimpers, could see the way her body trembled with need. His voice was low and commanding as he spoke.

"Listen closely, vhenan," he murmured, the words seeming to resonate through Lavellan's entire being. "You will not find release until I give you permission. No matter how desperately you crave it, you will hold back your pleasure until I allow it."

As he spoke, Lavellan felt that familiar tug in her mind, stronger now than ever before. The compulsion settled over her like a warm blanket, seeping into her very core. She nodded minutely, her eyes wide with a mixture of arousal and anticipation.

Solas's fingers tightened in her hair, guiding her movements as she continued to pleasure him with her mouth. "Good girl," he praised softly. "Now, I want you to show us just how much you want this. Move your hips for Felassan. Let him see how desperately you need his touch."

Without conscious thought, Lavellan found herself obeying. Her hips began to roll and undulate, seeking more contact with Felassan's teasing fingers. The magical bonds shifted with her movements, sending pulses of pleasure through her limbs.

Felassan chuckled appreciatively, his fingers danced along Lavellan's slick folds as she writhed beneath his touch, her hips moving in desperate undulations. The magical bonds shimmered and pulsed, sending waves of tingling sensation through her limbs with each movement. Though her eyes remained covered by the illusory blindfold, her other senses were heightened to an almost unbearable degree.

"Such eagerness," Felassan purred, his breath hot against her inner thigh. "I can feel how badly you want this."

His clever tongue replaced his fingers, tracing intricate patterns along her sensitive flesh. Lavellan cried out around Solas's length, her back arching as far as the bonds would allow. The dual sensations of Solas filling her mouth and Felassan's exquisite torture between her legs threatened to overwhelm her completely.

Solas's grip on her hair tightened, his hips rocking in a steady rhythm as he slid deeper into the wet heat of her mouth. "Focus, vhenan," he commanded softly. "Remember my instructions. You are not to come until I allow it."

Lavellan whimpered, torn between the desperate need for release and her desire to obey. She redoubled her efforts, hollowing her cheeks as she sucked Solas with renewed vigor. Her tongue swirled around his shaft, tracing the thick vein on the underside before flicking over the sensitive head.

Felassan pulled his mouth away, his thumb circled her clit in maddeningly slow circles. "I can feel you clenching around my fingers," he murmured. "So close already. But you can't come yet, can you? Not until our Wolf gives you permission.”

Solas's eyes darkened as he gazed down at Lavellan, her lips still wrapped around him. His voice was low and hypnotic as he spoke. "You're doing so well, vhenan. But I want more from you. I want you to show us just how desperate you are."

The compulsion in his words seemed to sink into Lavellan's very bones. Though her eyes remained covered by the shimmering blindfold, she could feel the weight of their gazes on her exposed flesh. Her body trembled with need, every nerve ending alight with sensation.

"Arch your back," Solas commanded softly. "Present yourself to us."

Without hesitation, Lavellan obeyed. Her spine curved, pushing her breasts forward and tilting her hips. The magical bonds shifted with her movement, sending tingles of pleasure along her limbs.

Felassan hummed appreciatively, his fingers never ceasing their torturous exploration. "Such a lovely sight," he purred. "So eager, so willing."

Solas's grip on her hair tightened as he began to move more forcefully, sliding deeper into the wet heat of her mouth. "Take me deeper," he growled. "Show me how much you want to please me."

Lavellan whimpered around his length, struggling to relax her throat as she took him in. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, but the pain only heightened her arousal.

Solas's eyes blazed with intensity as he gazed down at Lavellan. His voice was low and hypnotic as he issued his next command: "I want to hear you beg, vhenan. Tell us how desperately you need release. How you ache to be filled, to be claimed. Let us hear the depth of your desire."

The compulsion washed over Lavellan like a crashing wave. As soon as Solas withdrew from her mouth, words began spilling from her lips in a breathless torrent.

"Please," she gasped. "I need you so badly. I'm burning up, I can't take it anymore. Please touch me, fill me, anything. I'll do anything you want, just please let me come."

Her hips rolled helplessly, seeking friction against Felassan's teasing fingers. The magical bonds hummed against her skin, heightening every sensation. Tears of frustrated arousal leaked from beneath the shimmering blindfold.

"More," Solas demanded. "Tell us exactly what you want us to do to you."

Lavellan's cheeks flushed with heat, but she found herself unable to resist the compulsion in his words. "I want...I want to feel you both inside me," she whimpered. "I want Felassan's cock in my mouth while you take me from behind. I want to be stretched and filled until I can't think, can't breathe."

"I want...I want to feel you both inside me," Lavellan whimpered. "I want Felassan's cock in my mouth while you take me from behind."

Solas and Felassan exchanged a heated glance, a silent understanding passing between them. In a fluid motion, they shifted positions. Felassan moved to kneel before Lavellan's face, while Solas positioned himself behind her trembling form.

"Such filthy desires," Felassan purred, his violet eyes gleaming with arousal. "Let's see how well you can use that pretty mouth of yours." He traced the tip of his length along Lavellan's parted lips, smearing precum across them. She whimpered, her tongue darting out to taste him. The magical bonds hummed against her skin as she strained forward, eager to take him in.

Meanwhile, Solas ran his hands reverently along the curve of Lavellan's spine. His touch left trails of tingling magic in its wake, heightening every sensation. He positioned himself at her entrance, the thick head of his cock pressing insistently against her slick folds.

"Remember," Solas murmured, his voice low and commanding. "You are not to come until I give you permission. No matter how desperately you crave it, you will hold back your pleasure."

Lavellan nodded minutely, trembling with need and the effort of restraint. She felt utterly exposed, caught between their bodies and unable to hide her desperate arousal.

Solas pushed into Lavellan with agonizing slowness, savoring the exquisite feeling of her tight heat enveloping him inch by inch. As he hilted himself fully inside her, he called upon his magic, weaving intricate threads of power around her suspended form.

Lavellan gasped as she felt herself becoming weightless, her body lifting gently into the air. The magical bonds shimmered and pulsed, holding her securely in place even as she floated. The sensation was disorienting yet thrilling - she felt utterly exposed and vulnerable, displayed for their pleasure.

"Look at you," Felassan purred, his violet eyes gleaming with desire as he took in the sight of her suspended form. "So beautiful, so helpless." His clever fingers danced along her skin, tracing patterns of tingling magic across her breasts and down her trembling thighs.

Lavellan whimpered around his length, her tongue swirling desperately as she sucked him deeper. The position allowed Felassan to slide even further into her throat, and she struggled to relax, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes.

Behind her, Solas began to move in long, measured strokes. The angle of penetration was deeper than ever before, hitting spots inside her that made her see stars. His hands gripped her hips, holding her steady as he thrust into her floating form.

"So eager," Felassan commented, his cock slid deeper into her throat with each thrust, stretching her limits. His fingers tangled in her hair, guiding her movements as she sucked him eagerly. Drool trickled from the corners of her mouth, running down her chin in glistening rivulets. The sight only seemed to inflame Felassan's passion further.

Solas's thrusts grew more intense, his grip on Lavellan's hips tightening as he drove into her suspended form. The magical bonds pulsed in time with their movements, sending waves of tingling pleasure through her limbs. Lavellan moaned around Felassan's length, the vibrations causing him to groan in response.

"Such a good girl," Felassan purred, his fingers tangling in her hair. "Taking us both so well."

Lavellan's entire world had narrowed to the exquisite sensations coursing through her body. Solas's thick length stretching her, hitting spots deep inside that made her see stars. Felassan's cock sliding deeper into her throat with each thrust. The cool night air caressing her flushed skin. She felt utterly overwhelmed, caught between pleasure and the desperate need for release.

Solas leaned forward, his chest pressing against her back as he whispered in her ear. "I can feel how close you are, vhenan. Your body is trembling, clenching around me so tightly."

His words sent a shiver down her spine. Lavellan whimpered, her hips rolling desperately as she sought more friction. The magical bonds tightened in response, holding her firmly in place.

"Not yet," Solas commanded softly. "Show us how much you want it. Let us see your desperation."

Lavellan redoubled her efforts, desperate to please and earn her release. She hollowed her cheeks, sucking Felassan with renewed vigor as her tongue swirled around his length. Her hips rolled in tight circles, clenching rhythmically around Solas as he thrust into her suspended form.

Sweat glistened on her skin, her body trembling with the effort of restraint. Every nerve ending felt alight, sparks of pleasure racing along her spine with each perfect thrust. The magical bonds pulsed in time with her racing heart, sending waves of tingling sensation through her limbs.

Felassan groaned, his fingers tightening in her hair as he neared his peak. "So eager," he panted. 

Behind her, Solas's movements grew more intense. His grip on her hips tightened as he drove into her with punishing force. Each thrust sent shockwaves of pleasure coursing through her, building and building until she felt she might shatter from the intensity.

"Please," Lavellan whimpered around Felassan's cock, tears of frustrated arousal leaking from beneath the shimmering blindfold. "Please, I can't... I need..."

Solas leaned forward, his chest pressed against her back as he whispered in her ear. His voice was low and hypnotic, resonating through her very being. "Let go, vhenan.”

At Solas's command, Lavellan felt the last of her restraint crumble away. Pleasure crashed over her in overwhelming waves as her body convulsed with release. She cried out around Felassan's length, her back arching as far as the magical bonds would allow.

Every nerve ending seemed to ignite at once, sending sparks of ecstasy racing along her spine. Her inner walls clenched rhythmically around Solas, drawing him even deeper as her hips bucked uncontrollably. The magical bonds pulsed in time with her racing heart, intensifying each wave of sensation.

Tears of relief and overwhelming pleasure streamed from beneath the shimmering blindfold. Lavellan's muffled cries of ecstasy filled the glade as her orgasm seemed to go on and on, each thrust of Solas's hips prolonging the exquisite torment.

Her body trembled violently, suspended in midair and caught between their powerful forms. She felt utterly exposed, utterly claimed, as they continued to take their pleasure from her shaking form. The cool night air caressed her flushed skin, a stark contrast to the heat radiating from within.

As the initial wave began to subside, Solas's fingers found her sensitive bud, circling it with maddening pressure. The touch sent aftershocks of pleasure coursing through her, causing her to cry out once more. Her voice was hoarse, her throat raw.

Felassan gazed down at Lavellan's trembling form, his violet eyes gleaming with barely restrained hunger. "Such a good girl," he purred, running a hand along her flushed cheek. "But I wonder... do you want more?"

Lavellan's breath caught in her throat. Every nerve ending still sparked with the aftershocks of her intense climax, her body hypersensitive to even the lightest touch. Yet beneath the lingering waves of pleasure, a deeper ache was already beginning to build. She nodded eagerly, beyond words.

With a pleased hum, Felassan moved around her suspended form. Solas's magic pulsed, adjusting her position in midair until she was perfectly displayed between them. The shimmering bonds shifted, spreading her legs wider and tilting her hips. Cool night air caressed her most intimate places, making her shiver.

"Are you certain?" Felassan asked, his tone serious despite the hunger in his eyes. His fingers traced feather-light patterns along the curve of her ass. "I want to take you here. To feel you stretch around me as Solas fills you from the front. But only if you're sure."

Lavellan's breath hitched at his words, arousal flooding through her anew. "Yes," she gasped. "Please, I want to feel you both."

Felassan's answering grin was wicked as he conjured a vial of shimmering oil. He poured some over his fingers, the liquid glowing faintly with magical energy. "Relax for me, da'len," he murmured, his voice low and soothing.

His slick fingers circled Lavellan's puckered entrance, massaging gently to help her relax. The oil tingled pleasantly against her sensitive skin, warming as it made contact. Lavellan let out a soft gasp as Felassan slowly pressed one finger inside, the intrusion both foreign and thrilling.

"That's it," Felassan praised, working his finger deeper with careful patience. "You're doing so well."

Solas's hands roamed Lavellan's body as Felassan prepared her, his touch soothing and grounding. His lips found her neck, placing gentle kisses along the curve of her throat. "Breathe, vhenan," he murmured against her skin. "Let yourself feel everything."

Lavellan whimpered as Felassan added a second finger, stretching her carefully. The magical oil eased the way, its warmth spreading through her core. Felassan's clever fingers curled and scissored, sending sparks of unexpected pleasure racing along her spine.

"So responsive," Felassan purred appreciatively. "I think you're nearly ready for me."

Solas and Felassan positioned themselves carefully on either side of Lavellan's suspended form. The magical bonds shifted, adjusting her body to the perfect angle. Lavellan's breath came in quick, shallow pants, anticipation and arousal coiling tightly in her core.

With exquisite care, Solas began to enter her, the thick head of his cock stretching her slick folds. He moved with agonizing slowness, allowing her body time to adjust to his girth. Lavellan gasped at the delicious fullness, her inner walls fluttering around him.

"Breathe, vhenan," Solas murmured, his voice low and soothing. His hands caressed her sides, leaving trails of tingling magic in their wake.

Behind her, Felassan pressed the head of his oil-slicked length against her other entrance. He was incredibly gentle, easing forward by fractions of an inch. The magical oil eased the way, its warmth spreading through her core.

"Tell me if it's too much," Felassan said softly, his usual playfulness replaced by genuine concern.

Lavellan nodded, beyond words as sensation overwhelmed her. The initial stretch burned slightly, but the discomfort quickly gave way to a deep, unfamiliar pleasure. She felt utterly filled, claimed in the most intimate way possible.

Solas and Felassan moved together in perfect synchronization, their thrusts slow and measured as they allowed Lavellan's body to adjust to the intense fullness. The magical bonds pulsed gently, supporting her weight and holding her suspended between them.

Lavellan's head fell back, overwhelmed by the dual sensations of being so thoroughly claimed. Every nerve ending sparked with pleasure as they began to move more purposefully, finding a rhythm that had her gasping and trembling.

Solas's hands roamed her body, leaving trails of tingling magic in their wake. His fingers found her sensitive breasts, teasing and pinching her nipples as he drove into her with increasing intensity. His lips found the curve of her neck, teeth grazing the delicate skin before soothing the sting with his tongue.

Behind her, Felassan's clever fingers danced along her spine, tracing intricate patterns that sent shivers racing through her. His other hand gripped her hip, guiding her movements as he thrust deeper. The magical oil eased the way, its warmth spreading through her core and intensifying every sensation.

"So perfect," Felassan murmured, his voice thick with desire. "Taking us both so beautifully."

Lavellan could only whimper in response, caught in a haze of pleasure so intense it bordered on overwhelming. She felt utterly exposed, utterly claimed, as they continued to take their pleasure from her trembling form.

The cool night air caressed Lavellan's flushed skin as Solas and Felassan continued their exquisite torment. Every nerve ending sang with pleasure as they moved within her, their bodies finding a perfect rhythm that had her gasping and trembling. The magical bonds pulsed in time with their thrusts, sending waves of tingling sensation through her suspended form.

Felassan's clever fingers traced patterns of crackling energy along her spine, each touch igniting sparks of pleasure that raced along her nerves. His other hand gripped her hip firmly, guiding her movements as he drove deeper. The enchanted oil eased his passage, its warmth spreading through her core and intensifying every sensation.

Solas's hands roamed her body reverently, leaving trails of tingling magic in their wake. His fingers found her sensitive breasts, teasing and rolling her nipples as he thrust into her with increasing intensity. His lips found the curve of her neck, teeth grazing the delicate skin before soothing the sting with his tongue.

"You're close again, aren't you vhenan?" Solas murmured against her skin, his voice low and hypnotic. "I can feel you trembling, clenching around us so tightly."

Lavellan could only whimper in response, beyond words as pleasure built within her. She felt utterly filled, claimed in the most intimate way possible. Every thrust sent shockwaves of ecstasy coursing through her body.

Lavellan's body trembled on the precipice of release, every nerve ending alight with exquisite sensation. Solas and Felassan moved within her in perfect harmony, their thrusts deep and purposeful as they drove her higher. The magical bonds pulsed in time with her racing heart, sending waves of tingling pleasure through her suspended form.

"Let go for us," Solas commanded softly, his voice resonating through her very being. "Show us your pleasure, vhenan."

At his words, the last threads of Lavellan's control snapped. Pleasure crashed over her in overwhelming waves, her back arching as far as the bonds would allow. She cried out, her voice raw and desperate as ecstasy consumed her. Her inner walls clenched rhythmically around both of them, drawing them even deeper as her hips bucked uncontrollably.

Sparks of magic danced across her skin, intensifying each pulse of her climax. The world seemed to fracture around her, reality blurring at the edges as she lost herself to sensation. Tears of overwhelmed bliss leaked from beneath the shimmering blindfold, tracing glistening paths down her flushed cheeks.

Solas and Felassan continued to move within her, prolonging her pleasure with each perfect thrust. Their hands roamed her trembling form, leaving trails of tingling magic in their wake. Lavellan felt utterly claimed, utterly cherished, as they continued to take their pleasure from.

Lavellan's cries of ecstasy filled the glade as her orgasm seemed to go on and on, each thrust prolonging the exquisite torment. Her body convulsed between Solas and Felassan, suspended in midair by shimmering bonds of magic. Sparks of pleasure raced along her nerves, building and cresting in waves that left her gasping and trembling.

As Lavellan's climax began to ebb, Solas and Felassan picked up their pace. Their movements grew more urgent, more primal, as they chased their own release. Solas's fingers dug into her hips, holding her steady as he drove into her with punishing force. Each thrust sent aftershocks of pleasure coursing through her oversensitive body.

Behind her, Felassan's clever hands traced intricate patterns of magic along her spine. The ethereal touch ignited new sparks of sensation, coaxing her towards impossible heights once more. His other hand gripped her hip bruisingly tight as he pounded into her, the enchanted oil easing his passage.

Solas and Felassan's movements became more urgent, their thrusts deeper and more forceful as they neared their peak. The air crackled with magic, shimmering wisps of energy dancing across their skin.

Solas's grip on Lavellan's hips tightened, his fingers digging into her flesh as he drove into her with relentless intensity. His usual composure had shattered, replaced by raw, primal need. Each powerful thrust sent shockwaves of pleasure coursing through Lavellan's oversensitive body.

Behind her, Felassan's clever hands traced intricate patterns of magic along her spine, igniting new sparks of sensation. His other hand gripped her hip bruisingly tight as he pounded into her, the enchanted oil easing his passage. His violet eyes blazed with hunger as he watched her writhe between them.

"Let go for us one more time, vhenan," Solas commanded, his voice strained with the effort of holding back his own release. "Come undone."

At his words, Lavellan felt herself hurtling towards another impossible peak. Her body trembled violently, suspended between them as pleasure built to an almost unbearable intensity. She cried out, beyond words as ecstasy consumed her once more.

Solas and Felassan's movements became frenzied as Lavellan's climax pushed them over the edge. They drove into her with abandon, chasing their own release. The air crackled with magic, shimmering wisps of energy dancing across their skin.

Solas was the first to succumb. With a guttural groan, he buried himself to the hilt inside Lavellan's quivering heat. His seed spilled into her in hot pulses as his hips jerked erratically. Waves of magic rolled off him, washing over Lavellan's oversensitive form and prolonging her own pleasure.

Moments later, Felassan followed. He gripped Lavellan's hips bruisingly tight as he pounded into her a final time. His release flooded her, the enchanted oil amplifying every sensation. Sparks of violet energy crackled along his skin, leaping to Lavellan and igniting new sparks of ecstasy.

Caught between them, Lavellan's body convulsed with the force of yet another climax. She cried out hoarsely, beyond words as pleasure consumed her. The magical bonds pulsed rapidly, sending waves of tingling sensation through her suspended form.

For several long moments, the trio remained locked together, trembling in the aftermath of shared ecstasy. The glade was filled with the sound of ragged breathing and the fading crackle of spent magic.

As the waves of pleasure gradually subsided, Solas and Felassan began to lower Lavellan's trembling form. With exquisite care, they guided her onto the soft bed of moss that Felassan had conjured earlier. The magical tendrils that had held her aloft slowly dissolved, fading away in shimmering motes of light that danced through the air like fireflies.

Solas's fingers traced along Lavellan's temples, dispelling the magical blindfold with a whispered word. As the shimmering veil faded, Lavellan blinked slowly, her eyes adjusting to the soft glow of the glade. The compulsion that had woven through Solas's commands gently unraveled, leaving her mind clear but pleasantly hazy in the aftermath of their shared passion.

With reverent touches, Solas and Felassan began to clean Lavellan's flushed skin. Felassan conjured a bowl of warm, scented water and soft cloths. They worked in tandem, their movements gentle and soothing as they wiped away the mingled evidence of their lovemaking. The warm, damp cloths felt heavenly against Lavellan's oversensitive skin, drawing soft sighs of contentment from her lips.

Solas and Felassan tended to Lavellan with infinite care, their touches reverent as they cleaned her flushed skin. Felassan conjured more warm, scented water and soft cloths. They worked in tandem, movements gentle as they wiped away the mingled evidence of their lovemaking. The damp cloths felt heavenly against Lavellan's oversensitive flesh.

Solas cradled her head in his lap, fingers combing through tangled strands with patient devotion. His touch was grounding, anchoring her as the last waves of pleasure ebbed. Felassan's clever hands traced soothing patterns along her limbs, easing away any lingering tension or soreness.

"How do you feel, vhenan?" Solas murmured, voice soft with concern.

Lavellan managed a contented hum, beyond words. A lazy smile curved her lips as she leaned into their ministrations.

Felassan chuckled warmly. "I think we've rendered our lovely Herald speechless." His tone was teasing, but his violet eyes shone with genuine affection.

Once they'd cleaned her thoroughly, Solas carefully lifted Lavellan into his arms. She nestled against his chest with a quiet sigh as he carried her to a nearby grassy area. Felassan darted ahead, as he carried blankets and pillows to create a cozy nest.

They settled her gently onto the soft blankets Felassan had arranged. The grass beneath was cool and fragrant, cushioning their bodies as they reclined. Solas cradled Lavellan against his chest, his arms encircling her protectively. Felassan stretched out on her other side, close enough that she could feel the warmth radiating from his skin.

Above them, the night sky stretched out in a glittering tapestry of stars. The glade was far from any settlements, allowing the full glory of the heavens to shine unobstructed. Countless pinpricks of light twinkled against the inky blackness, some steady and bright while others flickered like distant candle flames.

Felassan conjured softly glowing wisps that floated lazily around them, casting a warm, ethereal light. The magical orbs pulsed gently, their soft radiance complementing rather than overwhelming the starlight. They cast shifting shadows across the lovers' intertwined forms, painting their skin in ever-changing patterns of light and dark.

A cool breeze whispered through the trees, carrying with it the mingled scents of night-blooming flowers and rich earth. It caressed their flushed skin, soothing away the last lingering traces of heat from their passionate encounter. Lavellan shivered slightly, and Solas pulled her closer, his body heat enveloping her like a cocoon.

Felassan reached out, his fingers tracing delicate patterns along Lavellan's arm before coming to rest on her hip. He shifted closer, his body molding against her side as he draped one leg over hers. The warmth of his skin seeped into her, chasing away the last whispers of chill from the night air.

His touch was different now - no longer inflamed with passion, but tender and almost reverent. His palm curved around the gentle slope of her hip, thumb brushing idle circles against her skin. The simple contact grounded her, a reminder of their shared intimacy and the bond that now existed between them.

Lavellan let out a contented sigh, nestling deeper into the cocoon of warmth created by their bodies. Solas's chest rose and fell steadily beneath her cheek, his heartbeat a soothing rhythm in her ear. Felassan's breath tickled the nape of her neck, soft and even.

Above them, the night sky continued its slow dance. Stars wheeled overhead in their ancient patterns, constellations shifting as the hours passed. Occasionally, a streak of light would arc across the heavens - a falling star, its brief life ending in a blaze of glory.

The glade around them seemed to pulse with quiet magic. Fireflies danced between the trees, their bioluminescent glow mingling with Felassan's conjured wisps.

Lavellan drifted in and out of a peaceful doze, cradled between Solas and Felassan. Their gentle touches and whispered words of affection wove through her dreams, creating a tapestry of warmth and belonging. She felt utterly safe, utterly cherished, in a way she had never experienced before.

[lokisasylum]

PJMs, keep your head high.

Those who genuinely support Park Jimin didn't wait for him to be involved in a scandal to give him records out of pity.

We did it because we actually CARE about his music, his artistry and because WE CAN.

Don't let none of these fake, bitter, hoes tell you otherwise or make you feel bad.

'Cause at the end of the way, we are not the ones who see or have to make someone our competition in order to feel motivated to support the artist that we love. Our actions reflect the means we choose to GIVE BACK the love that Jimin gives to us AT ALL TIMES.

Do it for HIM:

[i-am-vita]

Mihawk Bodice Ripper pt. 1

Next in The One Piece Bodice Ripper Club list.

I can't decide which one from the First Poll use for Mihawk. Both of them convey the exact vibes from A Diversion Fight when Mihawk finally catch Ghost Rose.

So now you get to decide how should I torture myself in my drawing process: half body characters with medium detailed plants at the back and full detailed plants at the forefront; or full body characters with even more medium detailed plants at the back.

Or third option: I do both and the second one is Governess with the Star Dress from @fanaticsnail Sapsorrow series because I can't help myself.

I don't know why I made the poll, I know what you're going to vote 🤣

Sapsorrow Fanart >

.

Tags: @since-im-already-here , @sordidmusings , @gingernut1314 , @cinnbar-bun , @feral-artistry , @sexc-snail , @tookawaiitoolive , @nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos

[oh-goddess-of-chaos]

hi can you make headcanons about yandere klaus mikaelson courting his lady love

⠀ 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐇𝐀𝐓𝐄 – 𝐲𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞!𝐤𝐥𝐚𝐮𝐬 𝐦𝐢𝐤𝐚𝐞𝐥𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝒙 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬 ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ✧‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ (navi. & masterlist. & tag. )

「 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 」 klaus spoiling you, just fluff and cute themes, general yandere themes such as stalking, manipulation, threats, forced marriage, etc.

「 𝐞𝐝𝐞𝐧'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 .⁺ ˖ ⌒ this one's definitely on the lighter sides in terms of yandere!klaus at the start. i imagine the dynamic to be like him w/ caroline if she'd liked him in the first place.

Klaus was at an art exhibit. He himself had taken up painting long ago as somewhat of a hobby, though when he attended, he didn't expect to find anything particularly life-changing. Or, more specifically, anyone. He was simply there to catch a glance at his paintings which had been hung amongst the numerous others.

And there you were, staring, entranced by a painting when he first witnessed your perfect self. There was just something about your expression that drew Klaus in - made him want to know more. And you, being so enamoured with the artistry before you, didn't even notice the vampire slyly sneak up behind you.

It was not just any painting you were staring at. Quite ironically, you were staring at his. Though he couldn't tell for the life of him why you seemed so enraptured in the artwork. Of course, people had stopped by to admire his work, but you didn't move on to look at others. You just stood there, observing it, a slight furrow in your brow.

When Klaus approached you, you jumped. You didn't think someone would take it upon themselves to start a conversation with you - you didn't find anything about yourself particularly alluring. Most people left you alone at social events. And Klaus found it adorable.

So, with a thousand years of experience, he wittily begins a conversation with you, later asking what had caught your eye about the painting you were staring at.

You then quite shyly begin to, in some sense, verbally undress Klaus, explaining how you could see the painting as a sort of expression of loneliness and deeply ridden pain, much to Klaus's utter surprise.

He asks you if you paint, to which you reply a little. You do it when you're stressed as it makes you feel as though you're in control.

When the two of you exchange your names and make more conversation, you are quite flustered when you realize that no other than the man before you is the one who painted the artwork in front of the both of you. You frantically apologize, but Klaus just smiles, and you continue to discuss countless unimportant things with him. The chit-chat is pointless, however you find yourself utterly adoring your ability to speak so freely to the man you just met.

When the both of you begin spending time together, your friends (having noticed who you'd been going out with) warn you to stay away from Klaus, but when asked as to why, they fall short of a distinct reason. It is quite tragic indeed that your friends just so happen to be Klaus's enemies, and that he plans to kill one of them (if not all), but, alas, they aren't planning on telling you anything, and if things go his way, they never will.

Klaus is most certainly the type to leave love letters, poems, and other priceless pieces on your doorstep. Every morning, much to your delight, you have the opportunity of reading his neat, cursive writing that declares his unadulterated adoration of you. These declarations fill you with nothing if not warmth.

You begin to hide these gifts, however, when your friends start to become more anxious at the prospect of you growing closer to Klaus. The relationship becomes somewhat of a scandal from there, you promising your friends that you no longer see him in the days, and sweet, tender rendezvous every night.

Klaus loves to tease and mock you (of course, all in good fun). He adores the blush that creeps onto your cheeks when you demand for him to put an end to his incessant cheekiness, but he never truly does.

Klaus promises to you show you the entire world one day. He speaks of his travels and the wonders that he's marvelled at, of the people he's met and the experiences he's had. You can't quite fathom exactly how he's experienced so much in such a short life, but you don't bother asking him, always swept away in his numerous stories.

And what a wonder it is, spending time with Klaus. He's simply the perfect man - always understanding, always kind, always adventurous. Every moment you spent with him is ecstasy.

And Klaus loves you all the same. You were his muse, his one true love. His bedroom was filled to the brim with paintings and drawings of you. No longer was he the power-hungry, desperately lonely man that he once was - not with you. With you, he was everything he could hope to be and more.

But, of course, Klaus is nothing if not slightly obsessive. And, even though he'll never admit it to himself, mere nights spent with you are not enough. So he follows you, makes sure you're safe during the day, admires you from afar. And at night, once you've fallen asleep, he watches your peaceful body, the way you look as if you have no worries in the world. He even occasionally sees into one of your dreams, wherein he either approaches you or finds another version of himself doing that very thing.

Klaus also happens to be quite jealous, scolding you whenever you spend more than an appropriate amount of time conversing with a man. If any flirting were to happen, you'd best believe that you'd never see that man once again in your life.

As time passes, and Klaus grows somewhat unsatisfied with only having you at night, so he begins to spend time with you in the daytime, joining you for walks in the park or inviting you to elegant dinners.

Tired? He won't hesitate to call a taxi for the both of you in moments. Thirsty? The finest of wines will serve you well. Klaus simply cannot miss the chance to spoil you!

But, alas, all good things must come to an end, and it was only a matter of time before Elena eventually caught on to your secret rendezvous and made the executive decision to tell you everything about Klaus. And, by God, were you heartbroken. But it almost made sense. Klaus was so, so perfect. Too perfect. But you never suspected that his one true flaw would be such a deal breaker.

So, in spite of your aching heart, you sever your relationship with Klaus, brushing past major details and simply explaining that you "just weren't feeling it." It breaks you to see him so distraught, but you know what he's done, and you cannot be the person you are while and simultaneously stay with him.

Unfortunately for you, though, Klaus had, over the many months, fallen for you - something he does not take very lightly. So, quite desperately, he bites Elena, promising that he'll give her his blood once you come back to him. And, in spite of your friend's protests, you do as he asks. You cannot risk losing someone so close to you.

When Klaus then proposes to you, and you, of course, accept, you hate to admit that you still find your heart swelling whenever he compliments you, or kisses you sweetly, or even just stares in your direction. As much as your mind was disgusted by the idea of loving Klaus, your heart could not so easily let him go.

As much as you loathe him for what he's done to your friends, as much as you hate him for forcing his love upon you, you love him, too. And perhaps that is what's worst of all - that despite all that he's done, you're still in love with him.

That, while he kisses you ever so fervently on the altar, you can forget all that he's done and imagine a bright future with him.

That, even as he turns you into a creature that feeds on others simply so he can remain with you forever, you find yourself adoring the idea of spending the rest of eternity with him, muttering the phrase "til' death do us apart" as you feed on the blood of an innocent human being.

And there you were, staring, entranced by a painting when he first witnessed your perfect self. There was just something about your expression that drew Klaus in - made him want to know more. And you, being so enamoured with the artistry before you, didn't even notice the vampire slyly sneak up behind you.

It was not just any painting you were staring at. Quite ironically, you were staring at his. Though he couldn't tell for the life of him why you seemed so enraptured in the artwork. Of course, people had stopped by to admire his work, but you didn't move on to look at others. You just stood there, observing it, a slight furrow in your brow.

When Klaus approached you, you jumped. You didn't think someone would take it upon themselves to start a conversation with you - you didn't find anything about yourself particularly alluring. Most people left you alone at social events. And Klaus found it adorable.

So, with a thousand years of experience, he wittily begins a conversation with you, later asking what had caught your eye about the painting you were staring at.

You then quite shyly begin to, in some sense, verbally undress Klaus, explaining how you could see the painting as a sort of expression of loneliness and deeply ridden pain, much to Klaus's utter surprise.

He asks you if you paint, to which you reply a little. You do it when you're stressed as it makes you feel as though you're in control.

When the two of you exchange your names and make more conversation, you are quite flustered when you realize that no other than the man before you is the one who painted the artwork in front of the both of you. You frantically apologize, but Klaus just smiles, and you continue to discuss countless unimportant things with him. The chit-chat is pointless, however you find yourself utterly adoring your ability to speak so freely to the man you just met.

When the both of you begin spending time together, your friends (having noticed who you'd been going out with) warn you to stay away from Klaus, but when asked as to why, they fall short of a distinct reason. It is quite tragic indeed that your friends just so happen to be Klaus's enemies, and that he plans to kill one of them (if not all), but, alas, they aren't planning on telling you anything, and if things go his way, they never will.

Klaus is most certainly the type to leave love letters, poems, and other priceless pieces on your doorstep. Every morning, much to your delight, you have the opportunity of reading his neat, cursive writing that declares his unadulterated adoration of you. These declarations fill you with nothing if not warmth.

You begin to hide these gifts, however, when your friends start to become more anxious at the prospect of you growing closer to Klaus. The relationship becomes somewhat of a scandal from there, you promising your friends that you no longer see him in the days, and sweet, tender rendezvous every night.

Klaus loves to tease and mock you (of course, all in good fun). He adores the blush that creeps onto your cheeks when you demand for him to put an end to his incessant cheekiness, but he never truly does.

Klaus promises to you show you the entire world one day. He speaks of his travels and the wonders that he's marvelled at, of the people he's met and the experiences he's had. You can't quite fathom exactly how he's experienced so much in such a short life, but you don't bother asking him, always swept away in his numerous stories.

And what a wonder it is, spending time with Klaus. He's simply the perfect man - always understanding, always kind, always adventurous. Every moment you spent with him is ecstasy.

And Klaus loves you all the same. You were his muse, his one true love. His bedroom was filled to the brim with paintings and drawings of you. No longer was he the power-hungry, desperately lonely man that he once was - not with you. With you, he was everything he could hope to be and more.

But, of course, Klaus is nothing if not slightly obsessive. And, even though he'll never admit it to himself, mere nights spent with you are not enough. So he follows you, makes sure you're safe during the day, admires you from afar. And at night, once you've fallen asleep, he watches your peaceful body, the way you look as if you have no worries in the world. He even occasionally sees into one of your dreams, wherein he either approaches you or finds another version of himself doing that very thing.

Klaus also happens to be quite jealous, scolding you whenever you spend more than an appropriate amount of time conversing with a man. If any flirting were to happen, you'd best believe that you'd never see that man once again in your life.

As time passes, and Klaus grows somewhat unsatisfied with only having you at night, so he begins to spend time with you in the daytime, joining you for walks in the park or inviting you to elegant dinners.

Tired? He won't hesitate to call a taxi for the both of you in moments. Thirsty? The finest of wines will serve you well. Klaus simply cannot miss the chance to spoil you!

But, alas, all good things must come to an end, and it was only a matter of time before Elena eventually caught on to your secret rendezvous and made the executive decision to tell you everything about Klaus. And, by God, were you heartbroken. But it almost made sense. Klaus was so, so perfect. Too perfect. But you never suspected that his one true flaw would be such a deal breaker.

So, in spite of your aching heart, you sever your relationship with Klaus, brushing past major details and simply explaining that you "just weren't feeling it." It breaks you to see him so distraught, but you know what he's done, and you cannot be the person you are while and simultaneously stay with him.

Unfortunately for you, though, Klaus had, over the many months, fallen for you - something he does not take very lightly. So, quite desperately, he bites Elena, promising that he'll give her his blood once you come back to him. And, in spite of your friend's protests, you do as he asks. You cannot risk losing someone so close to you.

When Klaus then proposes to you, and you, of course, accept, you hate to admit that you still find your heart swelling whenever he compliments you, or kisses you sweetly, or even just stares in your direction. As much as your mind was disgusted by the idea of loving Klaus, your heart could not so easily let him go.

As much as you loathe him for what he's done to your friends, as much as you hate him for forcing his love upon you, you love him, too. And perhaps that is what's worst of all - that despite all that he's done, you're still in love with him.

That, while he kisses you ever so fervently on the altar, you can forget all that he's done and imagine a bright future with him.

That, even as he turns you into a creature that feeds on others simply so he can remain with you forever, you find yourself adoring the idea of spending the rest of eternity with him, muttering the phrase "til' death do us apart" as you feed on the blood of an innocent human being.

© do not translate, steal, or repost any of my works elsewhere without consulting me and gaining my consent.

[alarrytale]

I don't agree with your theory that Harry's PR relationships will stop people from joining his fandom and alienate existing fans. The majority of Harries and casual fans/GP don't think his relationships are PR.

I think Sony expects him to be a stadium act until he's in his early 40s and then a legacy act who still tours arenas but doesn't release music as often. He really can't be classified as 'a star that burns brightly and then burns out' after 14 years at the top of the industry, with no sign of anything slowing down.

Hi, anon!

I don't think H's PR relationships will stop people from joining the fandom, but i think he'll lose fans over it, because his fans grow up. Also the older he gets the less attractive he will become to younger people, and his whole selling point is his looks and sex appeal. He needs to find a way to market himself that's more about the music and artistry than his looks and private life. If you're only a fan of H because you want to marry him (which is half of harries), that's not a good foundation to build on if you want a long career. How long has Justin Timberlake been in the business? He's still making music, but no one's listening. Because his marketing was all about his relationship and back and forth with Britney. I'm also pretty sure people won't care about 45 year old TS's boy troubles, so she'll need to find other ways to sell and promote her music. If we take away the relationship drama and the looks, what are we left with that will appeal to fans? Good music, artistry and entertainment is what makes you an icon and legend.

H's thing is doing a PR relationship, making them a muse for his next album, write that album, do another PR relationship etc. I don't know if the general public will care who 45 year old Harry Styles is currently dating and want to hear the songs about his current squeeze. Neither Bowie, Elton, Whitney or Beyoncé have been promoting their music with relationship drama, scandals or cheap attention grabs. Their music and talent speaks for itself. People want to be a fan because they're talented and creative people who make good music.

I agree that i think Sony and Full Stop wants him to be an icon and legend, but they don't have the right strategy and marketing in place to make it so. At some point people won't care who H dates, because they aren’t projecting their own fantasies anymore. The fans are married with kids. Younger people flock to other artists their own age. Older fans doesn’t see the appeal or else they'd be a fan already.

So his image and marketing strategy isn't built for longevity. That doesn’t mean they can't change strategy and rebrand him. But currently they aren’t. At which point will H not appeal to teens anymore and when will his contemporaries not need him as an object for their sexual awakening anymore? I think we're there soon. How will all this impact fandom and his charting? How are they going to assure that H will be able to tour stadiums and arenas at 47 years of age or 60?

[ev1eve]

EViE is a fictional girl group under CHROME ENTERTAINMENT. the group contains five members including: BITNA, YUA, HANBI, IVY, and RUBI. they made their debut on christmas eve, of 2020 with their ep FALLEN FROM GRACE. this came three years after the sudden disbandment of CHROME’s first girl group, NOiR.

in the year where retro concepts were on the rise and the month people were singing christmas carols came the introduction of EViE. their debut ep FALLEN FROM GRACE challenged all of that. while they initially gained traction for multitude of reasons (yua’s re-debut, their stand out concept at the time, and having relatively “older” members because everyone is 15), their hype didn’t last very long. their debut just one day before christmas and right before the new year, they were kinda drowned out by the end of the year events that they couldn’t participate in.

those who did pay attention to EViE, didn’t have much nice things to say, specifically about yua. yua was an original member of NOiR. just two years after their debut, one of the members, jisu, was involved in a huge bullying scandal, being accused of school violence in middle and high school. even though jisu was the only one responsible, all seven members were caught in the crossfire, including yua with opinions such as “they all must be just as bad as jisu.” however, there were never any real accusations against the rest of the members and they were able to continue their careers elsewhere, yua in EViE. people also had little hope that CHROME would promote right, and assumed they wouldn’t last longer than a year.

the girls successfully beat the odds and by their with the release of their second comeback, OH MY GOD, they were skyrocketed them into mainstream status. due to their upcoming success, their previous release, deja vu regained traction and started to rise on the charts a year after its release. DEJA VU entered the billboard kpop 100 chart at number 53.

EViE’s success would continue to go up from there, going on to win multiple music show wins and awards from notable awards shows such as THE FACT MUSIC AWARDS, MELON MUSIC AWARDS, GOLDEN DISC AWARDS, and MNET ASIAN MUSIC AWARDS. EViE has been labeled as CHROME ENTERTAINMENT’s success story, beating the odds and reaching high success and basically saving the company from bankruptcy. they have been praised for sticking to their unique dark and rock sound, staying true to themselves and their artistry.

GROUP NAME : EViE

COMPANY : CHROME ENTERTAINMENT

DEBUT DATE : december 24th, 2020

DEBUT EP : FALLEN FROM GRACE

FANDOM NAME : DEVILLE

OFFICIAL COLORS : #12151c & #181f17

CONCEPT : DARK, MATURE

𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐁𝐈𝐓𝐍𝐀. lead rapper, sub vocalist, visual. 𝐙𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐆 ‘𝐘𝐔𝐀’ 𝐘𝐔𝐄𝐇𝐔𝐀. lead dancer, sub vocalist, sub rapper, face of the group. 𝐒𝐄𝐎 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐁𝐈. leader, main rapper, lead dancer. 𝐊𝐀𝐍𝐆 ‘𝐈𝐕𝐘’ 𝐒𝐎𝐎𝐀𝐇. main dancer, lead vocalist, center. 𝐉𝐈𝐍 𝐑𝐔𝐁𝐈. main vocalist.

[imhereformysciencefriends]

Day 7: Clear Day Fair

Tags: @loturaweek2024 Clear Day, festival/carnival/fairgrounds, background Shiro/Keith, background Hunk/Shay, background Matt/N-7, food and carnival prizes, flirting

Read on AO3

“It’s hard to believe that just four decaphoebes ago, we were all at war,” Allura said, sliding her hand into the crook of Lotor’s elbow and resting her head daintily against his shoulder. No use getting too cozy: they’d resume walking soon. But for the moment she held onto her betrothed, (the talsean chain he’d gifted her burning a hole in her pocket, not quite yet ready to tell the others, and Altean engagements started out private, anyway) and enjoyed the sight of people walking about, smiling, laughing, eating, playing carnival games and riding contraptions.

“It is,” he breathed. Harder to believe for him, than her, some small piece of him, she knew, believing that he would never quite get this far, his father’s empire an endless and unkillable thing.

They stood together in companionable silence a long, long moment. The breeze rustled at the hem of her dress, a scandalous little thing that went down only to her knees, fluffy and ruffled, and left her collarbone and shoulders bare. He’d dressed nice for today, too, still anxious about setting aside his armor, but today was a day of celebration and joy. He was wearing an old Altean tunic Coran had found somewhere in the castleship’s storage, his arms as bare as hers were, and she enjoyed the sight and feel of his unarmored biceps quite nicely.

He turned to her, gently dislodging her from his shoulder, and smiled, just a little bit of fang poking out. “Shall we join in?”

She smiled back, warm and with a little happy twitch to her ears. “I think we shall.”

What to do, what to do though? They were surrounded by so many options, it was a little hard to choose.

Shiro and Keith were at the arcade, racing against one another on a level so high they had a small gaggle of children surrounding the mock pilot chairs, their one token stretching much further than the arcademaster might like. That was well and good for them, but Allura had spent quite enough time piloting the Blue Lion these last few decaphoebes, and Lotor agreed that such activities were more work than pleasure in his mind.

Hunk and Shay were on a slow moving ride, cozied up and cuddling in the lovebird-shaped railcar while they were serenaded by wacky mascots and bright colors. They traded back and forth gentle knocks of their foreheads, Shay guiding Hunk through the motion, and embarrassingly public kisses, Hunk showing Shay how. The cuddling definitely seemed pleasant, but the loud music and very public shows of affection weren’t exactly what the two royals would count as a nice (or romantic, in terms of the mascots) time.

Matt and N-7 were wandering the displays, children’s 4-H projects and adolescents’ experiments and community members’ quilts and crochet and knit works and artistry and sculptures and technological wonders and photography and baked goods and insect collections and mushroom displays and favored livestock all out on display, discussing what looked to be some sort of mechanical puzzle or contraption. That looked fun, also, but felt a bit underwhelming when they were at a fair. Maybe later, Lotor and Allura agreed they wanted to do something a little more fun first.

They began to wander, perusing their options, when Allura stopped him with a sharp tug on his hand. “Oh Lotor, look at that!” she said, pointing at a cute plush toy with giant marble eyes and soft fuzzy fur.

“Would you like it?” Lotor asked, cocking his head at the thing like he wasn’t quite sure what it was.

“That’s a tier three prize right there,” said the carnie, leaned back on their chair, “gotta get thirty points; you a good shot?”

“I am,” Lotor said confidently, walking up to the stall and paying for the game. Allura fluttered a bit to have him so willingly indulging her, and also to see him lift the mock gun with those pretty pretty arms of his.

His first shot went wildly off-mark. “Hm. The balance is off,” he murmured to himself, and corrected. The second was just shy of the center of his target, earning him two points instead of five.

Every shot that followed hit the dead center of their marks, and the carnie whistled, impressed. Allura could feel herself grinning, and extended her hands with a giggle as the carnie handed the stuffed animal to Lotor, who then promptly turned and handed it to her.

“Thank you,” she said sweetly, hugging the toy to her chest.

“Of course,” he said, looking quite pleased with himself, and a little flushed beside. She raised her eyebrows, then ducked her chin into the soft fuzz of her gift.

“And does my paramour enjoy providing me with gifts?” she asked, sweet and cheeky and looking up at him from under her eyelashes, shoulders drawn close to her ears.

At “provide” she actually witnessed his pupils dilate, and he licked his lips briefly before returning, “Only if my dearest enjoys receiving them.”

Giggling, she took his hand in hers again, now having discovered how they would spend their time. She pulled him to the next game with a prize she liked—not far indeed, as there was an abundance of plushies, shining trinkets, cheap plastic jewelry of absolutely no value, and kitschy souvenirs that caught her eye.

The ring toss went fine from the first throw, winning her a long-limbed plush that had magnets sewn in its hands so it could hang around her neck, he had to try twice at the game where he filled a thin tube with water but successfully perched a little plastic tiara on top of her head, making her giggle at having two, he tossed balls into baskets and flicked marbles precise distances, looking more and more smugly pleased with himself each time he handed her whatever it was that she had pointed at. They were burning through their tokens rather quickly, but eh, they could always purchase more, and Allura was certainly not going to stop him from piling her high with stuffed toys and assorted knick-knacks.

He struggled the most at stalls run by Unalu, surprising Allura not at all, but although she insisted that she didn’t need the prize that had drawn her eye, he insisted on victory before they left. It was sweet, and deeply charming, and as Allura’s arms grew more and more full of the prizes he’d won her she found herself gigglier and gigglier.

“Voltron plushies, toss a ring, win a plush,” another Unalu hawked at passerby, and this time Lotor was the one to stop them.

“A… purple lion?” he asked, one eyebrow as arched as she’d ever seen it. “That does not exist.”

Allura bent to observe the lineup closer, the five colors she was used to, yes, but also a pink, white, and purple lion propped up at the end of the line, many more clustered on the wall of the back of the stand.

She looked up at him, just a motion of her eyes, face still close to the purple offender.

“I do want it though,” she said through the fluff of three different plush toys.

Lotor hesitated, then blushed, then looked away. “Well. If the lady wants.”

“Then the lady shall receive! Very good, sir, ten tokens to play!” the Unalu prompted, and tried to hand Lotor a set of rings much smaller than the ones scattered about the display.

“These are not correct,” Lotor said, derisive and with the low tone that made her shiver.

“Of course they are! They just look small in your strong, masculine—hands…”

Lotor loomed over the swindler, scowling impressively.

“You know, I think I did actually hand you the wrong set, here you are sir, enjoy!”

The carnie swapped the rings out for the actual size, and Lotor relaxed. Observed his targets. And made every single toss.

“Woo!” Allura cheered, jumping a little, her hands full.

“Ah. Well. Erm, according to the sign, which is in your line of sight so I wouldn’t ever tell you anything differently, nine successful throws is three small prizes or one large one. So if your lady here wants the purple one, you get two mor—”

“The pink one! The pink and blue ones!” Allura interjected excitedly, and the carnie handed them over.

“This one’s for you,” she said, setting the blue lion on his shoulder like a cat would perch. The pink and purple one she settled beneath her arm, almost immediately losing them in the mass of the other plush gifts.

“Ah—your—”

“My lion, the one that is real, and actually exists. Not these silly fakes,” she teased, smiling up at him.

“Ah,” he said, and oh, she did far too thoroughly enjoy her ability to render this man speechless. It was intoxicating, seeing her beautiful, eloquent Lotor reduced to a pleased smile half hidden by his hand, ears tinged with his blush.

The smell of funnel cake, made of ground tubers instead of grains, as she might have had on Altea, yet still unmistakable, wafted through the air.

“Oh! We must have one!” Allura insisted, dragging him away from the games and into the hall of food vendors, ciders and grilled skewers and breaded pockets of meat and air-puffed ground tubers that also should’ve been grains if this were Altea and sweets and cloudsugar lining them on either side, and Allura joined the first of the lines.

“It’s sweet!” Lotor remarked when they got theirs, a dusting of sugar falling on his chest as he bit into the fried delight.

“Of course!” Allura agreed joyfully.

“It’s good.”

“Do you not often enjoy sweets?”

Lotor snorted, taking another bite. “You might recall that standard Galran fare involves uniquely bland off-beige paste and little else.”

“Well, yes, and we Alteans have our exceedingly green goo, but surely you must eat regular food when you are planetside?”

Lotor gave her a look.

“Lotor. Only eat half of that. We are going to try everything in this aisle.”

He laughed at her sudden seriousness, but Allura was not anywhere even close to joking. He dutifully waited with her in every single line, trying out savory meats and spicy candies and more sweets and buttery tubers at her prompting, eating whatever they’d just purchased while they waited in the next line. They bumped into Pidge, Hunk, and Shay in one of the lines, chatting happily while Lotor gnawed on a well-sauced bone of meat, and Hunk reminded them to hydrate while they were here. When they finished with their final shop (a meat skewer place with crisped alliums and bell peppers that smelled divine) she decided to play another little ploy on her intended, and guided him away from the crowd.

“This is good, as well,” he praised, seeming to enjoy the meat dishes the most out of everything they’d tried.

“Good! Give me a bite,” she said, resettling all her many plush gifts in both hugging arms, so she could not reach out and take it. Instead, when he began to extend the skewer to her, she opened her mouth and leaned forward.

“Allura?” he choked, eyes blown so wide they were nearly all pupil.

For her part, she blinked her eyes as big as they would go and stared up at him innocently. “My hands are full,” she commented, high pitched and sweet, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Won’t you feed me a bite?”

Feeding one’s partner was not quite so scandalous as kissing them in public, but it wasn’t nothing, either. She opened her mouth again, doing her best impression of guileless but probably blushing, herself, and watched her fiance visibly struggle with his composure before feeding her a bite.

“Mm! It is good!” she agreed, smiling for an entirely different reason.

“You are a wicked, devilish woman.”

Allura giggled, grinning wide, and spun on the ball of her foot with a little flounce of her dress.

“That’s me! Now, whatever shall we do next?”

[got7ent]

got7_isourname: 10 years with GOT7.

Time flies as people always say. It’s been 10 years since our debut and it’s been almost 13 years since I first got to Seoul Korea. From an athlete to entering the fields of music and getting trained professionally. From a kid, just starting his journey with curiosity to the man already walking 10 years down the road figuring out his artistry, and he still walking from no one recognizing & appreciating the artistry to having a crowd that supports and believes in you. Can’t say nothing but “I’m too blessed” to be able to receive. I really want to say thank you to “JYP“ entertainment, and all staff for casting me and giving me the opportunity back then. Also helping me to grow through training and it became a huge fundamental part of me today.

A coincident that happened back in school, when the casting team of “JYP” showed up and everyone in school left after exam. I was the one who stayed with a couple of friends that day when I should’ve went for fencing practice prepping for London, 2012. Well, I guess the casting team didn’t have much choice in that situation, but offer me the invitation to the audition. That’s how it happened… I want to thank HeeWon for always supporting me through my hard times and tolerating the immature me back then as a kid. I want to think Jimmy the CEO and J.Y. Park for guiding me through a seniors and as like parents in the industry.

I want to say thank you to my members, for being the partners in the battle. Being the brothers since trainee days from nothing to traveling and performing all around the world together. I believe each member is focusing on their artistry now and I hope nothing but the best for them. Really glad and happy that we are able to show each of our individual colors and character as artist now.

I want to thank everyone, from the bottom of my heart, to every person that supports the group. Our crowd & fans. I still remember the day of our debut showcase. We were all riding that auto electronic skateboard looking thing entering the venue during the intro of the show. It was around 50 people but it was definitely one of the most memorable shows I did.

I want to apologize for a fans for all the moments you worried. Sorry for the unpleasant moments and the negative experience that happened. I’m sorry that there were a lot of times, random and miscomprehend things like gossip, issues about the stabilities of the group, all sorts of noises and scandals that were out in the industry affecting everyone’s mood. Supports and fans deserve a good experience. I’m sorry for letting you all experience those kind of moment. There are a lot of precise memories from you all. I used to get a lot of “스니스니“ from you all. Now that I’m almost 30 in a couple of months, as I age, I don’t think anyone calls me that anymore. But the memory shows and pops up in my dream once or twice a year haha. Not gonna lie…

I love you all, the time you all spent with us was precious. I’ve always wanted to make our fandom and crowd proud, as a team, also as an individual. I assume a lot of you are already in different industries/working in different fields already. I hope everyone can be happy and healthy. I hope everyone is able to find their standard of happiness in life. That’s all that matters. I’m also looking forward to what’s next for us. Without all of you, we won’t be here today. None of this would happen without you all. Thank you I love you.

Seunie

[e-louise-bates]

Watching the World Figure Skating Championships this past week, I realized all over again how frustrating it is that we have dissolved the complexity of the sport into two categories: technical ability and artistic ability (aka technical elements and program components, according to the judging rubric). Because to my eyes, and I realize this makes me sound fully my age and then some, what is (generally) lacking in figure skating currently is not artistry, as many people complain: it's basic skating skills. The top-ranked male skater in the world right now has such scratchy edges and poor control when he's not performing his elements that it is painful to watch at times. He may be able to do a quad axel, (and it is a thing of beauty,) but if he ever attempted edges or footwork like we used to see in the days of figures, he'd fall flat on his face. Spins may be spectacular and complicated, but I can count on one hand the number of skaters who don't need suitcases for how far they travel when they spin. Programs may even be choreographed well and performed well, but again, it doesn't make up for lack of edge work, control, precision, and quickness.

I know we can't move backward in any sport, and I wouldn't want to. Figures are not coming back. I just wish that we could somehow celebrate the sport moving forward in a way that added to its complexity and beauty, rather than replacing those parts of it with technical prowess and static routines where even the choreography is limited to elements like "choreo sequence level 1" or "step sequence level 2."

There are a lot of brilliant skaters out there right now, and I guess it just makes me sad that we don't get to see them ever reach their full potential because of the way in which the sport has shifted. And ultimately, has the sport improved because of it? If we're talking popularity, no. Outside of the skating world, nobody cares that we have a man who can do a quad axel. That's not bringing viewers rushing to the events. Stars on Ice is not touring through the US this year for the first time since it began in 1987--citing a difficulty in finding venues and booking skaters, but I have to believe a lack of ticket sales is contributing to both of those difficulties.

And if we're talking the sport being better intrinsically ... well, when almost all the best skaters in the world have to retire before the age of thirty because of hip and knee problems (and for some female skaters, before the age of twenty), when there's nothing left for a skater after he or she is done competing because there's no professional figure skating world anymore, when the sport is even more riddled with scandal now than it was in the 1990s and early 2000s ... I'd have to say no to that as well.

In short (she says, ignoring the fact that nothing about this post is short), this doesn't actually feel like progress to me--in many ways, it feels like the sport of figure skating as a whole is moving backward, despite the technical advances. And that has nothing to do with a perceived lack of artistic ability in the skaters, but rather has to do with the breaking down of something complex and intricate into disparate parts and then ignoring the fact that there's nothing to hold them together.

I hope there is a shift soon, or else I fear that this sport I love so well will vanish entirely.

[zukkacore]

you know porter is like scandalized that basically all of jace's novels are erotica. he's been making fun of jace for being a secret nerd and having so many books in his home. and then he picks one up out of curiosity and it's like "BRUTISH goliath pirate SUNDERS the virtue of an innocent elven mage, RAVISHING him upon the high seas, showing him previously unknown pleasures and delectable pain" and hes like oh this is your porn collection. that you just have out on display for anyone to walk by and see.

And what about it!!!! The day mass paperback romance novels moved from illustration to photoshop was the day artistry went to die!! Jace sees the new trend of “discreet” covers for indie romance books on booktok and he’s like. Absolute coward shit.

[shrikeseams]

Torn between 'elves appreciate wigs as a display of artistry and enhancement of natural beauty' and 'elves think wigs are scandalous shallow and trashy like breast implants were 20+ years ago.'