#victor f.

[victorfrench]

tag drop //

[letterboxd-loggd]

Safe in Hell (The Lost Lady) (1931) William A. Wellman

May 16th 2023

[silvcrignis]

SO @xpricity GOT ME ADDICTED & NOW I HAVE IMAGES OF WHAT CHILDREN canonically thatihavenochoicebuttoorder😭™️

[kingsbride-moved]

F/Ovember Takeover Promo Post... !

Hello, I’m Hope! I’m usually @/BoonofAphrodite, but i’ve temporarily changed my URL to participate in the f/ovember takeover event organized by @cherry-bomb-ships​ ! Seemed like a lot of fun <3 if you’re also participating feel free to lmk so i can send some asks over too. I’ll only be writing as Asterius and Theseus because ah... at the moment they’re the only ones I feel fully confident and able to write well <3 That’s all I have to say on this... I’m about to make a silly in character post in a moment so enjoy that too. Edit: I’ll also do Zagreus, Achilles, and Patroclus. Dia has platonic relationships with all of them! I’ll be tagging all IC posts with “👑: Such fervor coming from this crowd!”

[glorifiiedgore]

           Choke  me  like  you  hate  me,  but  you  l o v e  me                                   Low-key  wanna  date  me  when  you  fuck  me            Touch  me  with  the  lights  off  and  my  chains  on                                   Baby,  I'm  not  the  right  one  you  should  wait  on

[arcielee]

dōna mandia

Summary: Her brothers convince her to play a game of hide-and-seek. Paring: Aemond Targaryen x Reader, Aegon Targaryen x Reader Word Count: 4085 WARNINGS/THIS IS A DARK FIC: Targcest, with she/her pronouns, MDNI, 18+ Dubcon, inexperience, fingering, implied sexual themes, oral (m and f receiving), p in v, anal, double penetration, rough sex.  Author's Note: Thank you @hamatoanne​​ for being my muse and inspiring this depravity. Thank you to @sylas-the-grim​​ for beta reading and perfecting. And a huge thank you to @aemonds-fire​​ for helping me with my Tumblr settings that had me ripping my hair out. 💜 Anyway, this is what you wanted from this poll. I hope you are all happy with yourselves. 😂   

Valyrian translations: mēre, lanta, hāre is one, two, three dōna mandia is sweet sister

Tumblr kindred spirits: @aaaaaamond​ @annikin-im-panicin​ @watercolorskyy​ @schniiipsel​ @aemondx​ @fan-goddess​ @babygirlyofthevale​ @httpsdoll​ @theromanticegoist​ @assortedseaglass​ @amiraisgoingthruit​ @theoneeyedprince​ @hb8301​ @lovelykhaleesiii​ 

“Come, sweet sister,” Aegon whispered into the shell of her ear. She felt the warmth of his palms through the layers of silk worn, her robe and her nightgown, with his intimate touch to her lower back to guide her.

She paused for a moment and peered back at her twin. Aemond had covered his one eye, his sapphire glinting from the lighting of the room as his timbre rumbled the numbers off in Old Valyria. “Mēre,” he began, with a slight curl to his lips.

“With me,” Aegon urged, his other hand interlacing with her own to pull, and she could not help the giggle that slipped from her lips as she followed him.

Aemond continued behind them, a low echo against the cobblestone. “...lanta…hāre…”

It was childish, she supposed, but welcomed after the somber family meal earlier this evening. Her brothers then stole away to her chambers, the mischievous grin paired with the suggestion from Aegon that they play hide-and-seek, as they had as children.

But that had been a lifetime ago, long before the internal warfare of the House of the Dragon inevitably spilled its destruction across Westeros.

Her brothers, Daeron as well, had all fought valiantly and victory was had–but at what cost, she often wondered. Rhaenyra was dead, along with their uncle and nephews, and their dragons as well. The smaller children, the ones with the blood of Old Valyria apparent in their veins, had been sent to Old Town with the assurance to raise them with the absolute truth of what happened.

But she knew that the truth would be written by the victors.

Their grandsire served as Lord Hand still, an advocate to reinstate the peace disrupted. This burden shifted on her and her siblings, as Aegon was now king without question, and now the sole focus was to mend the rift between realms, a new age of serenity with his reign. As part of this, their grandsire announced her betrothal to a Northern house, as if she were an olive branch to be extended to the perpetual snow to never be retrieved.

Her pain was written plainly on her lovely features, but their grandsire spoke his words with a sense of finality; it seemed to be no hope to dissuade his mind.

This was how her brothers found her–“Sulking prettily,” Aegon cooed as her handmaiden finished braiding her silver tresses back, dressed already in a pale silk and ready for bed.

Once they were alone, Aegon had brought up this childhood game. What had convinced her, though, was when her twin, Aemond, who was the personified reason knitted amongst them all, seemed almost akin to the idea. His perpetual smirk played at his lips when he offered to be the seeker first.

And now she padded softly along to keep pace with Aegon, breathless, almost gleeful, as they tore through the empty corridors, hands held as they weaved through the silent castle before coming to a door she recognized all too well.

“This is Aemond’s room,” and her voice trailed off with its uncertainty.

Aegon returned his hand to her lower back, his other now grasping onto her forearm. There was a darkness that flickered over his features, but his smirk was quick to brighten, an emotion gone with a heartbeat before she could even register. A coaxing whisper to guide her across the threshold: “This is the one place he would not think us to go.”

It was a room she knew with an intimate familiarity, with an ingress that connected and weaved through the walls, leading back to her own. When they were children, Aemond often would slip into her bed at night, her honeyed tones to soothe him to sleep, and when he had lost his eye, she would go visit with him and listen while Vhagar’s roars reverberated throughout the Keep.

It was tidy, as always, maintained and meticulous, which suited her twin. His musk lingered over, something that was so uniquely his own: the hint of smoke with leather, his skin scrubbed clean with the bath oils gifted from Dorne, the amber and the ash.

It was something that held onto her clothes whenever she would return to her room in the early mornings.

Now, she followed Aegon with timid steps as he moved towards the wardrobe further back, standing tall and solid. He opened to be greeted with the smell of Aemond, mixed with the cedar chips placed to keep the moths away. He then stepped in first, turning to reach for her once he realized her hesitation rooted her to the cobblestone; his arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her in, closing the door behind.

It was dark, save the crack between the paneled doors that allowed the bit of golden light from the hearth and the tapers still lit to spill in. Aegon nestled against her, a warmth emitting from him, and her backside flushed against his chest. His one hand moved to her hip while the other began to draw soothing circles against her stomach, an almost tingling sensation through her silk.

She squirmed slightly, an inadvertent hum from his touch; the close proximity and his clashing scent–a soothing mixture of lavender and tea tree oil–caught her breath in her throat. She blushed, her hand fumbling on top of his own, so small in comparison, and he pressed the imprint of his palm to her stomach, the other gripping into her hip bone.

She shivered from his hold, from the warmth that began to pool between her thighs. “Aegon,” she breathed.

He moved to place his hand over her mouth. “Quiet, sister,” and his chin pressed onto her shoulder, his hot whisper tickled with his low baritone and his hold tightened around her waist.

She paused, alert for an indication that Aemond had finally come to the room to find them, but there was only a heavy silence punctuated by the crackle from the fireplace. Aegon burned against her, a pillar of warmth that settled over like a fog, thick with the quiet, almost suffocating in the enclosed space. His hold on her hip loosened and his hand began to trail the flow of silk to the soft divot between her thighs, his fingers moving to trace the outline of her cunt against the thin material.

“Sister,” his tone was dark, but she felt the curl of his lips against her ear. “You are bare beneath this.”

Only his hold on her mouth kept her from reminding him that she had meant to go to bed, but instead she had been caught up in this insipid game–but the thought choked on the fog from his continued motion. His fingers deftly found her slit and he dragged his center digit upwards between, a featherlight touch that seemed to scorch through the length of her spine. She moaned, soft and muted, against his palm.

“Pull up your skirt,” he hissed, moving to cup her cunt fully.

She jolted from his touch, scrambling to bunch the fabric around her hips; the air was cool against her thighs and the wetness between.

Aegon groaned against her skin. “So wet for me, sweet sister,” and he pulled her closer, grinding against her backside, his defined hardness pressing into the softness of her arse.

She mewled and it was muffled still, drawing a dark chuckle of satisfaction from Aegon. “You like that?” and he repeated the movement, his fingers now spreading her silken folds and the silver hair that lined them. “If I remove my hand, will you be a good girl and stay quiet for me?”

His hold only relaxed with the frantic bob of her head and his hand moved to push aside her braid to allow his tongue to run the column of her neck to behind her ear, almost panting against her skin. She shuddered against him. “So soft,” and her skin prickled with the low rumble of his praise, “so wet,” and his one finger curled within, searching until she began to melt, arching against him with a desperation to feel the friction again, his length hard and heavy against.

She pressed backwards and Aegon drew a sharp intake of air before he tilted his chin, his teeth sinking into the junction of her neck, suckling until she left out a small whine, “–Aegon.”

“Quiet,” he hissed again before returning his focus to the curl of his fingers within her velvet walls, to the movement of his hips grinding against. His touch was practiced, precise, and he was now knuckle deep, which allowed the ridge of his palm enough pressure that further ignited the coiled passion building in her lower abdomen.

She gasped with each stroke as he continued his simultaneous ministrations, the mixture of his kisses and nibbles on the curve of her neck, the love bites that would linger but right now brought her to the precipice of something she had never felt before–

–and the doors swung open, where Aemond stood, arms wide, his hair disheveled and his expression unreadable.

Her eyes widened, burning from her embarrassment, burning from her release; she tried to close her thighs, but Aegon pulled it from her, against her own volition and with a startled cry. She trembled from her peak, the flush of color that spilled from her cheeks, to her neck and to her chest, her nipples pressing against the silk and her chest heaving with her labored breath.

Aegon wore his smug satisfaction, pressing a soft kiss to her neck and his eyes never leaving Aemond.

But his sharp features seemed unsurprised by the spectacle. “You are insatiable, brother,” and he grabbed her, pulling her from the confines of the wardrobe. “Your impatience knows no end.”

The silk spilled to cover her leaden legs, her steps staggered but he was quick to catch her. His large palms held her steady, to meet with his bicolor gaze; his sapphire gleamed and his lavender eye trailed her curves, almost admiring. He then dragged her towards the bed, pushing her backwards against it.

“Oh, but I have only prepared her for you,” Aegon continued as he stepped out, his silver hair mussed and his satisfaction bold on his features as he licked his fingers clean.

She wished her voice to not sound so childish with her question. “P-prepare me?”

Aegon tutted condescendingly. “Just as we did with Helaena, and she took us both so well,” he grinned, relishing in the new flush of color that stained her cheeks with the implication of his tone. “You cannot truly believe we would ever allow you to be off to some Northern house as a prize?”

Her heart fluttered with hope, like a captured bird against its cage, and her fingers pressing into the mattress to hold herself upright to look back at Aemond. He stepped closer to touch her, his hand large and warm, his slender fingers sliding to hold the back of her neck, to hold her attention. “I would never allow that,” he vowed, and then he pulled her to stand again.

She had always considered her twin to be handsome, as breathtaking as the sapphire stone he had placed in his scarred socket. It was his melancholy mien that called to her heart; there was a severity that lined his features, that sharpened as the years passed and chiseled away at the remains of his boyhood. After the war was won, she often wondered, she hoped, that she would be given to him, as Helaena had been given to Aegon…

Her eyelashes fluttered when she looked up at him, warming from the close proximity. “Aemond…”

“Trust me,” and Aemond pressed closer.

It was her first kiss and it swept the air from her lungs, his mouth soft and warm and wanting against her own. A soft moan spilled from her and his tongue curled against her own, his gradual pace to allow her time to taste, to allow her own want to begin rekindling within.

Her hands trembled when they reached for his collar, pulling him closer, and he hummed his satisfaction, a vibration throughout; his arm wrapped around the small of her waist, a guiding press back against the bed edge. Her layers of silk were disrobed and puddled on the cobblestone, a heat radiating from her bareness now shown to Aemond and she saw how his pupil swallowed the color of his eye.

Aemond discarded his tunic, his long and lithe form decorated with scars from the Dance of the Dragons, bold colors with some fading to silver. He pressed between her plush thighs, his slender fingers now digging into their softness for hold, pulling her towards the edge until her cunt pressed against the bulge of his trousers.

Another moan spilled from her kiss-swollen lips from the clothed pressure, and Aemond dipped forward, the soft tickle of his silver hair against her skin and his lips trailing the curve of her jaw with an open mouth kiss to the soft divot beneath her ear.

“Lay back on the bed,” was his breathless command.

She trembled to move herself but paused when her eyes darted back to see Aegon in the shadows, still standing, still watching rapt. His tunic was now untucked and showed off the hard peaks of his chest beneath, his hand dipping past his waistline with a slow palming of the length of his shaft, with wine stained blotches on his cheeks.

Aemond captured her mouth, pushing her back onto the bed, his kiss searing with his desperation, his hunger, with the clash of teeth and his tongue curling against the roof of her mouth. She panted, flustered from the attention, flustered with the echo of Aegon’s words–she took us both so well. Even then, plumes of pink bloomed on her pale skin as his kiss stoke the embers of her passion. “Aemond,” she breathed him in, her head light.

He hummed against her neck, moving lower so his mouth could appreciate her curves. He paused at her chest, his tongue flickering over the peaks of her nipples before trailing lower to the soft of her stomach with hot, wet kisses moving towards her core.

She sighed, she squirmed with each placed kiss and as he nestled between, his breath warm against the glisten from her first climax, and her arousal from his touches.

“She tastes so sweet, brother,” Aegon rasped.

Aemond hummed against her cunt, his fingers soft to touch, his lips pressing an intimate kiss to the bloom above her entrance. She arched her back with a sharp cry, sensitive still, and he pinched her thigh.

“Dōna mandia,” his husky tone sent bolts up her spine. “Be quiet.”

Her hands clamped over her mouth as he began to lap the bundle of nerves discovered this night, and he drank her essence unabashedly. His fingers curled within, his touch somewhat similar to Aegon’s but thoughtful, searching until he felt the beginning flutter of her walls. There was the sinful squelch of her wet cunt and she let out a choked sound against her palm, the threat of tears pearling in her eyes–

Then he stopped.

She let out a whine and pushed to her elbows, the flush of rose that tinged her intimately in all the right places, the rise and fall of her chest and her nipples still peaked with her denied pleasure. Aemond watched her, removing his trousers, the hint of satisfaction fleeting with how her eyes widened at the sight of him bare; he then moved to the cradle of her hips, his head dipping with the glisten on his lips and chin, an unfamiliar taste with his sweet kiss.

Aemond pressed against her, hot and heavy. “Sweet sister,” and he sounded apologetic. “This will hurt.”

Once again a hand clamped over her mouth, halting her gasp as he lined to press against her entrance. Aemond groaned into her neck with his gentle thrusts that burned, that stretched as he pushed into her and she writhed pitifully beneath him, the tears now spilling with her muffled sob.

“I know, I know,” his low tone was soothing, his breath tickling the curve of her neck as he continued the slow rut of his hips against her, his hold relaxing for a chaste kiss.

She gasped against his mouth. The burn, the ache dimming with his each thrust and she felt the blossom of a newer sensation that began to trickle through her veins, a coiling passion as he filled her; It was something deeper than neither his hands of Aegon’s reached before. She shuddered against him, her cheeks wet and her fingers curling into his slim hips, his pace rhythmic to her internal flutter pulling her towards an edge.

She let out a soft cry: “Aemond.”

His lips curled and he praised her. “Yes, just like that,” his pace continued, unrelenting. She felt her muscles clenching, spasming with the bloom of her climax spilling through, her sweet moans mixing with his sharp intake of air through his clenched teeth. Aemond stilled his hips, savoring how she shuddered beneath him, her rapid heartbeat and wet eyes that watched him intently.

A whine cut through them both. “Aemond,” and only then did they remember Aegon.

She felt empty when Aemond pulled away, her cresting pleasure fading. The bed dipped as he shifted, his large hands now moving her, coaxing her onto her hands and knees so she now faced the edge of the bed to watch as Aegon moved closer.

He had shed the last of his clothes, his swaggered step that showed his length, his girth, that hung heavy between his thighs. His touch felt clammy against her skin, cupping her jaw and tilting her head back to meet with the glitter of his lilac eyes. “Will you return me the favor?” he mused, his thumb pressing to her lower lip.

Her older brother always held a haunted beauty about him. There were splotches of wine stains, bold on his porcelain skin, and something almost sinister that brimmed beneath the dark shadows that framed his lovely eyes. Aegon watched her, his digit stroking underneath her chin as he watched for her to acknowledge his words.

Behind her, the bed dipped again as her twin moved to place his hands on her hips. Her grip balled into the linen, to try and hold her trembling still; he dragged the tip of his cock through her folds to coat himself in her release, allowing an easier glide as he sheathed back into her cunt; his groan reverberated throughout them both.

She shuddered and felt Aegon squeeze her jaw, looking up at him through the new tears that clung to her eyelashes. “Open your mouth,” was his low command, his hand wrapping around his base and pressing his swollen cockhead to her lips.

It was a tentative taste before she opened to take him bit by bit. “Watch your teeth,” and she widened her jaw, her tongue flattening against the underside of him. “Yes, good girl,” Aegon hissed, his head tilting back.

She gagged when Aemond slammed into her, his hip bones digging into the softness of her arse–this new angle choked a moan from her, and its vibration had Aegon almost giggling. His fingers combed through her silver hair that spilled from the braid, holding her head as he now bucked his hips into her mouth. She gagged again, hollowing her cheeks, saliva spilling from the corners of her mouth and dripping down the sides.

The brothers were in tandem, the brutal pace of her twin and the sensual pull of her hair by Aegon and his large hands. She trembled as she tried her best to balance on one hand, her other trying to wrap around the last bit of Aegon she could not swallow, flushed from the lack of oxygen and her muscles tensing again.

Then it stopped, the satisfying pop as Aegon removed himself from her mouth, an emptiness as Aemond pulled away. She wished to melt into the sheets, but felt hands pulled to straddle the slender waist of Aemond, who was now splayed against the pillows, the flush of color bright on his sharp features. She saw his erection pressed up against his stomach, a glossy sheen of her arousal coating him.

She sighed from his touch, lifting her hips with a soft mewl as he dragged his tip through her silken folds again, allowing her to slowly sink on top with her soft cries. He bucked beneath her, a slow pace to fill and it plumed new pleasure that sparked at her spine, fluttering throughout. Her nipples were rosy and pebbled, her small hands bracing against his chest with the imprint of of red, half-crescent moons littering on his skin.

Aemond moved his hands to cradle her lower back and pulled her forward until she was flushed against his chest. He captured her lips with a renewed fervor, biting her bottom lip, and she whimpered mercifully against his mouth. He broke away and she buried into his neck with a soft kiss, while Aemond gave a silent gesture to Aegon, who retrieved a small vial and palmed himself as he continued watching them.

“You wish to make me feel as good as I made you,” Aegon asked and the bed sank as he climbed onto it, “isn’t that right, sweet sister?”

She twisted to face him, an unintelligible moan to reply as Aemond continued his languid pace beneath her. Her eyes were glassy, soft noises spilling, and there was a movement of silver when she nodded her head.

Aegon hummed with a curl of his lips, moving behind her, pouring more from the vial into his palm. Aemond reached to find her lips again, tightening his hold as she jerked from Aegon’s touch. He made a soothing sound and she relaxed as he slowly circled her rim, a genial coat of oil, so tender it almost tickled.

It stopped and her trepidation fluttered her spine as his thick head pressed against her hole, a searing burn that speared the base as he began to push until he was fully sheathed and flushed against her ass. She trembled and Aegon let out a low groan as he leaned over her, a soft bite and kiss to her shoulder blade. “So tight,” he gasped.

Aemond had stilled his hips, swallowing her cries with his kiss, and only pulling back to lick her tears, his soothing words muted from the roar of blood that was rushing to her ears. He continued to sing small praises while Aegon moved agonizingly slow, his thrusts eventually coaxing a heat in her lower back that began to spread and press to her seams.

Aemond cupped her face to reclaim her attention, her breathy moans fanning his cheeks and her fist knotting into the linen as she shuddered against his chest. He moved his warm palms to her sides, slowly rolling his hips at an alternating pace with Aegon.

The fullness from their hungry, cyclical pace continued the crescendo building in her lower abdomen. It came with sparks of white that flashed before her eyes, the release of that coiled passion flushing her skin with their rhythm. Her tension snapped, painfully, pleasurable, sharing her bones beneath and leaving her weightless with a sobbed release.

She shuddered from the crests of pleasure that continued to crash against her, feeling Aegon’s hips stuttering with his own peak before pulling out his softening cock. And then Aemond gripped into her hips, a biting hold as he rutted upwards to chase after the high, his cock pulsing inside her velvet walls and her lips parting with a wordless cry.

She then crumpled against her twin and he moved her carefully to the side. She was breathless and could feel their pearly seed spilling from her holes and seeping into the linen. Aegon was first to move, to dress and leave the room, but Aemond took a moment, washcloths rung to wipe her clean, taking the time to blow softly on her skin and watch it ripple with gooseflesh.

When he finally finished, he crawled beneath the covers and pulled her against his chest; she sighed as she melted against him, her fingers moving to play with the silver strands of his hair. Her lips pursed a moment. “What do we do now, brother?”

His fingertips stemmed pleasantly against her ribs and she flushed from the vibration of his low hum. “I intend to speak to the Lord Hand tomorrow about making you my wife,” he said as if it was already decided.

Her tongue wet her lips. “What if he is adamant to send me to the North?”

His grin was almost wicked. “Then I will parade these corridors with these very sheets to show you are no longer a maiden,” and he pushed her as she giggled, rolling her onto her back and enjoying the natural spill of her breasts; his narrow waist knitted between her thighs and she sighed, feeling him pressed against the inside of her thigh, heavy and ready once again.

Aemond captured her mouth and his kiss heated her cheeks. He stopped a moment, his tone dark and heady, “I will not be denied. Iksā ñuhon, dōna mandia.”

You are mine, sweet sister. 

[shirefantasies]

Silly Ol’ Bear- Bombur x F!Dwarrow!Reader

As always with me it’s Ur Clan hours & my mind is full of fluff of my muses 😌 I can’t get over the popular fanon/actors’ headcanon about our boi having like 13 or 14 kids- he’s such a family man ok??? Note: in this time period they’re the equivalent of late teenagers!

You are peacefully crossing the house you visited, soles of your shoes tapping lightly upon wooden floors, when like little firecrackers two small shapes barreled toward you.

“Run!” A small voice called.

“Run,” the other agreed, “the bear is after us!”

Crowding about your skirts were none other than Fili and Kili, Dis’s young sons. You couldn’t help but smile and reach out to pat their wee heads- young as they were, they had little memory of Erebor’s evacuation. Childhood ease still shone in the princes’ eyes. While you yourself had not dwelt in the Lonely Mountain, some extended relatives had, thus your visit and that of some other dwarves from the Blue Mountains.

“You’re being chased by a bear?” You played along with the boys, still smiling through your feigned serious tone.

“Oh, yes, he’s big and ferocious and-”

“Raaaah!” Before Kili could even finish, a playful roar echoed through the room. “I’ll catch you both yet!”

Squealing, the boys hid further behind your skirts, Kili even trying to get beneath them as you jumped, shaking your head. They were but little ones, after all.

The bear in question was none other than your dear friend Bombur. He, too, was visiting the settlement, and you thought you’d heard Dis task him with watching the boys. He was the younger brother in his family, so you couldn’t help wondering at that how he was with wee dwarves.

And, it seemed, you were getting your answer. With giggles of protest, Fili was scooped up into your fiery-haired friend’s arms and held prisoner, though quite gently, you noticed. Kili called out small protests from some layer or another of your dress.

“Are you going to eat me, Mr. Bear?” Fili asked as he squirmed in Bombur’s arms, his little brown fur coat making him resemble something of a bear cub himself.

“Oh, no,” the broad dwarf replied slowly, shaking his head as his cheeky smile grew, “I’m going to put ya in my stew first, then I’ll eat ya!”

“Not when I am here!” Kili shouted, finally ducking back out of your dress and running forth as he produced a wooden sword. “My brother is no stew!”

The dark-haired brother leapt forward, all but knocking Bombur and Fili over as they rolled around and roughhoused, your friend clearly letting the boys be the victors as Kili slashed the air above his neck.

“I cut off your head!” He shouted with wicked, boyish glee.

“No,” Bombur called, voice weakening with every syllable, “no prince stew for me! Nooooo…”

Laying his head down dramatically and sticking his tongue out, Bombur ‘perished’ as the lads cheered. Shaking your head with amusement, you caught the way he winked at you, flushed a bit.

When Bombur stood up, he took the young princes with him, one hanging off of each arm as if a reminder of his strength. As they dangled, you reached over to your friend, taking his shoulders and starting him in a spin that had the little ones cheering again. Shortly after that, though, key turned in lock and the lads went back off with their mother who had returned from the market with their favorite iced buns, leaving you and your dear friend on your own again by the home’s flickering hearth. You peered at Bombur with a smile.

“What?” He looked genuinely puzzled.

“Didn’t know you were so good with little ones until now. Guess I’ve never seen you them before,” you told him.

“Aye,” he nodded, glancing down a bit, “I’ve always loved ‘em.”

“You must be looking forward to having your own once we reach age, huh?” The two of you were the same age, born mere months apart, and that alone had drawn your mothers together before you’d even realized it had done the same for you. Both you and Bombur would become adults soon enough, of the age to start contemplating if you’d like to marry.

“Of course I am,” he lit up, blue-grey eyes glistening, “I want my own little army!”

You could see it. As good as he was with Fili and Kili, why not more?

“What’s an army,” you asked, amused, “a dozen?”

“A baker’s dozen!” Bombur countered, grinning.

“Thirteen?” Lightly you smacked his arm, to which he just smiled sheepishly. “You silly ol’ bear!”

By Mahal, he really was serious about this. Then again… you pictured twins, two tiny versions of the broad dwarf, maybe another set, one with hair his vibrant shade of red…and maybe one with a color more like yours… perhaps a couple little dwarrowdams if you were lucky…

You shook your head, feeling quite warm as your friend’s voice speaking your name cut through your reverie. Like it or not, you really had fallen for him.

“What about you?”

The images you’d just seen flickered through your mind again like the inviting fireglow reflected off of his eyes, dancing across your mind alongside the contented beat of your heart.

“I think I’d like a big family, too," you answered almost reflexively. Even if you’d never thought about it before, it was like a switch went off, gears turning in your mind.

“Well,” Bombur replied, smiling much more softly that time, “that makes me happy.”

For some years you’d wondered at his words and their purpose. Wondered, hoped, imagined this and that time and time again, until the day he called you his One, asked you to become his wife because he couldn’t imagine bringing up that baker’s dozen with anyone else.

[gctawaygirl]

open: slightly younger f muse: victor russo (27) plot: best friend's little sister, already secretly dating or secret feelings yet to be revealed

victor loved coming home for the holidays. he spent such long days researching for his phd and working for his assigned professor that having any kind of break was heaven. however, two weeks of no lectures and no long, tedious books was tenfold. he got to see his mom and he got to spend some time with his second family. his best friend stefan and his family has always welcomed him in and that was why he always spent a few days of any visit home staying with them. stefan let him in but had a "thing" he had to take care of so victor was left to unpack. he easily found the guest room, lovingly known as his room whenever he made plans to come home when he heard footsteps approach the door. he turned and smiled when he saw stefan's younger sister, "hey you," he greeted, stepping forward.

[pcrfectillusicn]

open: f/nb connection: any - go crazy, get creative muse: victor

"don’t shut me out like this."

@indiestarter

[sentofight]

ooc. me replying? nah. i will make a ship thingie post for my muses wahahaha.

bold (prefers it) italics (can happen) cross (needs building but could happen)

This list will not be naming the ships i have but the name of characters in the muse's franchise (if i have interactions in other verses might add characters i see my muse clicking with in that verse.) Though i will add if the character named is taken or not.

Eight

cater

jack

kurasame

king

machina

ace

Machina

rem

deuce (taken by @/oursongofhealing)

ace

kurasame

qator

King

seven

nine

eight

Zack

aerith

cissnei

kunsel

tsung

tifa

Edea

Ringabell

Alternis

Tiz

Agnes

Einheria

Tiz

Agnes

Edea

Rokurou

Velvet

Eleanor

Eizen

Magilou

Senel

Chloe

Shirley

Jay

Norma

Balan

honestly he is probably one of the few muses i can't put a name just some ideas of who can be compatible with him.

intelligent

decisive

strong willed

willing to accept that he is not a romantic person and will see his job as important as you? and maybe more because he is pragmatic person

can compromise to some extent, but never that be conflicting with the person or their interest

Victor

Lara Mel Marta

Fractured Milla

Jude Mathis

L.indow

Sakuya

Tressa

Leon

Cyrus

Therion

Ali

Lucina

Laurent

Gerome

Owain

Severa

Inigo

Kjelle

Brady

Gaius

Cordelia

Maribelle

Sully

Chrom

Olivia

Tharja

Lissa

Avatar/ Robin m/f

Panne

Lon'qu

Sully

Lissa

Cordelia

Avatar f/m

Panne

Olivia

Say'ri

Lissa

Lon'qu

Gaius

Vaike

Stahl

Maribelle

Avatar f/m

ricken

Lyndis

Mark ( taken by @/rcdhotnight)

Hector

Kent

Rath

Matthew

Shutaro

someone kind and understanding of his 'vampire dilemma'

idk what else to write he is not that demanding he is a sweet child sobs

A.kihiko

Mitsuru

MC f/m

Fuuka

ryoji

shinji (im putting him despite not being one of my favs for personal reasons but i cant ignore that he is part of aki's life and ngl i like the trio mitsu x aki x shinji but haha we dont talk about that cuz some d.umblr ding dong people are fossils with ideas)

Kaname

Hitomi

Boss

Raquel

Arnaud

Forte

MC

Margaret

Aldo

Amy

Guildna

probably more but thinking

Kula

K'

Edward

Winry

Xiaoshi

Lu Guang

====

OCs

Einar

Can't think of someone compatible with his in the TYPE0 world, but Emina can and might ruffle his feathers a little bit. idk.

ngl Aki Minahara could have a chance if she is a little bit older dlfkjsdkfs

anyway he looks for someone serious about the relationship.

he wants a family not just one night stand but he is afraid of making said family because of the crystal and dying and getting people's memories wiped clean.

basically, he does not want to be forgotten ...

uuh he can cook so he is not expecting the whole 'gender role thing'. as long as you are good in the things you like to do, then sure fine. tbh he prefers to cook. he is not big on eating other people's food. though he wont stop you from cooking. surprise him.

cats. tbh it is not something he can give up on for a partner???? because for him feeding and looking after the stray cats is an important part of his life. silly as it sounds but he takes it seriously.

he can compromise a little bit with the cat thing but don't expect him to stop going out to feed them.

Roland

laugh tracks but sure. I feel like Severa would be fun to see her bicker with him. they can judge their parents together lol

Thomas

Kjelle

Severa

Maria

Brady

Inigo

Gerome

Chloe

---she's younger than the 2nd generation.

Amina

---she's old than most of the cast.

someone who can understand her past is not something she is proud of and wants to change

Feiruz

HAPPINESS.

SELF ESTEEME

SELF CARE

LOVING SELF

DETERMINATION

ACCEPTING

Ren

Licca (big crush she's older than him but he does not understand)

Sohrab

in lore

---TBA

in awakening verse

Lissa

Cordelia

Stahl

Gaius

Frederick

Avatar f/m

Jokull

in lore

--tba

[cherrysugcr]

open m/f/nb connection: blind date inspo: victor and your muse have been set up on a blind date

Romance was certainly something that had not been a focus in his life since the passing of his wife several years ago. Sure there were times when he met someone mainly to fulfill physical needs but there was never a secure emotional attachment. Many friends had tried to persuade him to try different forms of dating but he always kindly declined. Yet this time a friend was adamant that they found someone who was a perfect match for them. Now he sat in a restaurant, chosen for them, with a single red rose on the table. His date was told to look for him and now Victor gave a kind smile to each stranger who passed by unsure of who his date would be.

[spidersdance]

~ @vxctorx || Liked for a starter ~

"You and I are quite alike, you know." James muses, tongue lazily tutting against the roof of his mouth. Eyes turn slowly to look at Victor, admiring him for a moment. He really is a work of art. It's making the whole situation so much more f u n. It wouldn't be half as entertaining if Sherlock's long lost love had been ugly. Victor, however, he's sexy - He adds an element of drama to the game and Jim thrives on it.

"I fell in love with a man when I was in university too." A pause, the words falling out as easily as if he's talking about the weather. "Except that I killed him when he didn't return the affection." Eyes glint, mischievous. "Although, there's still time for you yet. You could lose the plot and finish Holmes off for me. It'd be quite the ending - something akin to a Shakespearean tragedy."

[byneddiedingo]

Dorothy Mackaill in Safe in Hell (William A. Wellman, 1931)

Cast: Dorothy Mackaill, Donald Cook, Ralf Harolde, Morgan Wallace, John Wray, Ivan Simpson, Victor Varconi, Nina Mae McKinney, Charles Middleton, Clarence Muse, Gustav von Seyffertitz, Noble Johnson, Cecil Cunningham, George F. Marion. Screenplay: Joseph Jackson, Maude Fulton, based on a play by Houston Branch. Cinematography: Sidney Hickox. Art direction: Jack Okey. Film editing: Owen Marks. 

Seamy and salacious, Safe in Hell is sometimes cited as an example of what finally scared Hollywood into accepting the Production Code, except that you could hardly find a more conventionally moral fable than this tale of a call girl who gives up her sinful ways when her sailor comes back from sea and proposes marriage. Unfortunately, the man who done her wrong intervenes and Gilda (Dorothy Mackaill) is forced to flee to a Caribbean island populated mostly by men of the wrong sort. Still, she manages to hold on to her renewed virtue and rise to self-sacrificing heights at the end. Mackaill is terrific in the role, making me wonder why she's not well-known today. It's probably because most of her work was done in silent films and she was turning 30 when sound came in, putting her at a disadvantage against younger actresses like Bette Davis and Barbara Stanwyck when it came to landing lead roles. Director William A. Wellman had a steady hand with this kind of tough-edged melodrama, introducing touches of comedy like the crowd of lecherous barflies who live in the hotel Gilda moves into while waiting the return of Carl (Donald Cook), her sailor. When she moves into her room on the balcony at the top of the stairs, they turn around their chairs to face it, eager for whatever action may occur. They're not disappointed: Piet Van Saal (Ralf Harolde), the man she thought she killed, forcing her to flee to the island, turns up alive, and the island's lawman, its "jailer and executioner" in his words, the unsavory Mr. Bruno (Morgan Wallace), also takes an interest in her. It's a middling movie, mostly of historical interest, particularly in the appearance of two important Black actors, Clarence Muse and Nina Mae McKinney, in roles that don't call for them to kowtow too much to the whites or speak the standard dialect concocted for Black people in the movies. McKinney, best known today for her performance as Chick in King Vidor's Hallelujah (1929). gets to introduce the song "When It's Sleepy Time Down South," which became a jazz standard when Louis Armstrong popularized it. Muse, who plays a hotel porter, was one of its composers, along with Leon René and Otis René. 

[prpfs]

hi, f21+ here! i’m looking for 18+ ( preferably 20+ ) partners for a hunger games-based oc x oc plot, set in the thg universe but not necessarily following canon events. my platform of choice is discord, but i’m open to writing on tumblr if that’s your preference!  

for technical details, i’m a literate, multi-para ( 300 to 500 words usually ) writer who uses third person + past or present tense, and looking for about the same. there’s no need to match length every reply, but i don’t do one-liners and like to get fairly wordy. i will not reach out to blogs that have no information at all available. a bit of writing on them ( to see if our styles mesh! ) would be ideal, but at the very least, having an alias + age range would be appreciated.

for availability, i’m in cest, with a fairly busy job/major, but i can be pretty fast with replies when my schedule frees up, so let’s say you can expect one every couple days / a few times a week.

i’d like to write an oc i already have, a district 4 victor in his early 30s who copes with his games and their aftermath through hedonism and substance abuse. for this specific plot, i was thinking of pairing him with a tribute for some rocky beginnings, since he does not make for the best of mentors, and potential slow burn. it’d definitely be an age gap plot, unless you’d prefer to shift the games age range a bit for comfort, but i’m okay with going 🍪 so long as your character isn’t younger than 16-18. this said, i’m also open to writing him opposite another victor or a capitol citizen for some annoyances to lovers or star-crossed romance, so long as it’s a muse who can offer some contrast to his devil-may-care attitude. feeling some m/f more for this one, but i could be convinced to do m/m if you bring a solid idea to the table! obviously, trans and nb characters are welcome, and my guy is a trans dude himself, if that’s a dealbreaker for anyone. i’m not pressed about fcs - irl, drawn, written descriptions, anything goes as long as i can have some idea what your character looks like.

i’m absolutely down to include darker themes, and ask you to be comfortable with potential triggering topics already present in the series. kinks details can be discussed in dms, but my only hard nos are watersports/scat/emeto. my character for this plot is a switch, and i’m good with anything opposite him so long as yours is active enough not to have to carry any smutty part of the thread alone. when it comes to nsfw, i’d like to keep it to a 20/80 smut to plot ratio, maybe 30/80, so if you’re looking for a smut-only rp, this is not the ad for you. likewise, please be proactive in plotting! rp works best when people bounce ideas off each other, and i promise to match your enthusiasm. 

if you like or reply to this post, i’ll probably drop into your dms to ask what you were thinking / were interested in + a writing sample if your blog doesn’t have one already, and of course provide one of my own. and that’s about it! this ad got long, and while i know all the requirements sound like a drag, i’d rather we both know for sure what we’re getting into. excited to get to writing with you! <3 

like if you're interested and op will get back to you

[cxnsiglixrx]

Open Starter

Open to: F Muse: Victor Arnaud, 27 years old, Prince, Heterosexual I will make a new post for any replies! DO NOT LIKE THIS STARTER PLEASE! READ MY RULES BEFORE INTERACTING!

Summary: Victor and Y/M are in an arranged marriage, but the thing is, the two are bitter enemies (reason can very as to why they are enemies.) Victor is seeing someone else on the side, since the two are not yet married.

Gimme angst! Drama! Two people that probably shouldn't be together but maybe they grow to love each other???? Maybe????? I'm open to plotting!

"I do not want to speak about this." The man leaned his head against his chair. The drink in his hand was quickly discarded after a quick gulp. "I don't understand why you insist on us spending time together, when you clearly cannot stand the sight of me."

[devirtute]

open to: f/m/nb potential connection: boss, boss' son/daughter, boss' partner, neighbor about muse: victor [ 42 y/o handyman + construction worker w/ energy manipulation, confident but isolating, loves sticking it to the man ]

the handyman was trying his best to concentrate on installing the new chandelier in the living room, but every time that they passed by he got distracted. it wasn't helping that the way that they looked and was causing his shaft to grow in his jeans that were already a little tight. finally, he decided to take action. victor cleared his throat the next time that they passed and looked down at them from across the room. "sorry, can you pass me a flathead screwdriver from my box?" he pointed down at the ground while he was all the way on top of the ladder. he knew that to pass it to him, they'd have to at least note his impressive bulge. "i'd get it myself but i'm holding this together with my hand right now."