Does your OC have any difficulty distinguishing between love and lust?
Is your OC at all romantic themselves? Or is romance something they expect others to perform for their benefit?
What does your OC look for in a romantic (or perhaps purely sexual) partner? Is this always healthy?
Does your OC consider themselves to be attractive? Do they put much effort into achieving this?
Would your OC ever take advantage of someone's romantic feelings in order to manipulate them?
Has your OC ever had their heart broken? Have they ever truly recovered?
What is the most romantic gesture your OC has ever performed? Alternatively (or additionally), what romantic gesture would they most like to perform?
Does your OC pursue only monogamous relationships? Or are they open to other, more creative, options?
If your OC were ever to fill out a Dating Site (or pamphlet or newspaper) profile, then what would they include?
Does your OC have a type? Have they ever been surprised by their feelings for someone who doesn't fit this?
Has your OC ever been the object of someone's affections that they did not (or could not) reciprocate?
If your OC were in love, how might they recognise this? Or would they be too much in denial?
Has your OC ever written a love letter (or text message or whatever the case may be)? Perhaps they have even composed a love poem or song dedicated to their beloved?
If they wish to impress someone for whom they have romantic (or at least sexual) feelings, does your OC attempt to present themselves as more confident, wealthy, popular or otherwise impressive, than they truly are?
Is your OC easy to love? If not, then what are the barriers?
ty to @veeples for the tag! i'm late to this but tagging @kaikuva, @florvinhara, and @feralrosie mwah!!
this is a slow-going but beloved wip of my oc faye and vee's alin:
She smiles and feels the edge in it, feels his eyes follow the motion. Her heels are off in a flash and then she’s pushing—not lightly—against his shoulders. They both know she can’t make him move if he doesn’t want to, yet he drops willingly to the edge of the bed.
Pattern recognition flares in the animal part of her brain. Maybe she should feel unnerved that this—pawing at each other in hotels and bathrooms and dark corners backstage, increasingly comfortable conversations, inside jokes—is now officially the longest she has seen anyone. Instead all she feels is that insistent, inexorable draw to him.
She follows it and falls into him. Echoes of other rendezvouses sound throughout her body as she straddles his lap, as his hands settle on her hips and grip in a way that makes her shudder.
@narrativefoiltrope heehee thank u for the tag beloved!! i have been Reminiscing over my old scout fics so woe kira/gage be upon ye~ I am late so won't tag but if anyone else is moved by the spirit pls 👁👁👁
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"Do you think we'd have ever met if the end of the world never happened?" Gage asks.
"Hmm... hard to say. Would you still be carrying around those dumbass knives? I might have laughed myself to death-"
He pretends to launch his fist at her; she catches the feigned punch easily and twists his hand, intertwining their fingers. The moonlight catches the white, jagged imprint her teeth had left months and months ago, rendering it stark and jarring against his skin. She raises their linked hands and presses a kiss to the old wound.
Went to visit my grandma for a week, didn't take my sketchbook with me because I didn't want to pack much. Got restless on day 5 and bought some paper and pencils in the end. Anyways, here's a sketch of Rowan.
taran st. worth // lead singer, cruel sympathy (@infamous-if)
st. worth's instagram is a veritable gold mine for fans of his and ex-bandmate/-boyfriend seven lawless's relationship--traces of lawless remain on the account despite the two's separation three years ago. when asked about his social media strategy, st. worth scoffed. "strategy? i'm just posting about my life, man. connecting with fans, sharing my thoughts, my art." but when asked about allusions to lawless, st. worth declined to comment.
You mentioned on your personal that Rowan is Black. What about the rest of the band?
Right! i was going to make a post for the band and soft violence.
Rowan is African-American and he is a dark-skinned Black man. There has been unfortunately a few instances of whitewashing (:/) so just to clear that up!!
Iris is SEA and Latina (Filipino and Colombian)
Avina is South Asian (Indian-American)
edit: Avina does NOT go by she/her...please! It's still happening! They present feminine by choice but they do not identify as a woman! (A few people have referred to them as a woman...they're not <3)
Kieran is Latino (Mexican-American)
Pope and Devyn are just White to me but I imagine Devyn having Russian ancestry. For Pope...like Sebastian, he's just a White Guy I haven't decided lolol
Praying for your inbox. 41 and trying to hold Sebastian's hand?
gulps
Doubt.
You hate that word.
As a singer, you're not allowed to feel it. Doubt means messing up a line, going off-pitch, doubt means ruining everything you worked for.
Doubt means possibly embarrassing yourself in this parking lot.
Sebastian leans against the hood of his car, pale fingers curled around the steaming cup of coffee. Swirling neon lines from the DINER sign blurs in the puddle of water left behind from this morning's storm. It's night now, and if it weren't for the lights that illuminate the lot you wouldn't have been able to see Seb's face.
Which would've been so much better.
He stares into the diner, keeping an appraising eye on the customers inside. You noticed something about him recently; how alert he is. How aware he can be. His eye never remain in one place too long. You wonder if that's a product of being a parent. Even when Maya is safe in the hotel, Sebastian can't help but soak in the world as if waiting to be attacked.
You find it endearing most of the time. Now? You wish he would just look at you.
Look at me, you urge silently. Your eyes narrow just a bit, willing for some hypothetical latent mental telepathy to suddenly work. Don't you want to look at me?
He doesn't.
You stand next to him, your feet in front of you as you absently tap on your own drink. The air is musty, humid from the rain, and you two stand side by side, silent. His arm brushes yours on occasion, and when it does, you feel his eyes flicker to your face in your periphery. If you move your foot one inch to the left, your toes would be touching. If you inch closer, your hips.
So close, and yet.
"I like this," Sebastian says suddenly. You jolt, turning to him just as he hops on the hood of his car, legs dangling. "The silence that doesn't feel like silence.'
You quirk a small smile. After a moment of indecision, you pull yourself up by your hands to sit next to him. The whole left side of your body presses against his, but he doesn't seem to mind. Instead, his offers you a small, lazy smile.
"Silence that doesn't feel like silence?" you prompt, your breath growing a bit thin under his casual stare.
He shrugs, looking out into the empty street. "The world is never silent. You hear the wind, the cars. We're always so caught up in our lives...we never take a moment to soak in the small things. It's nice to just...be." He wrinkles his nose, the blush rising on his face so deep you can see it even against the harsh lights . "I'm sorry. That was cheesy-"
You shake your head fervently. Cheesy or not, you're willing to listen to anything Seb says if it means witnessing the sparkle he got in his eyes when he spoke. It's rare you see this Sebastian; the one who speaks freely, who offers lazy smiles like he has an endless amount of them, the one who just wants to sit next you in a diner parking lot that smells vaguely of cigars and exhaust. The one that says cheesy things without thinking because he's comfortable enough to.
"It wasn't cheesy at all," you say. "I like..." You swallow. "I like just...being with you."
There's a moment of non-reaction, and part of you fears you may have crossed a line. Then Seb smiles a little, keeping his eyes on the lights of the diner. "I like just being with you too. I..." He thinks for a moment. "I like who I am with you."
Your heart races. That familiar doubt rises again when your eyes settle on Sebastian's hand, which rests comfortable on the hood. When you look back up at him, you realize his chest has stopped moving, as if he's holding his breath.
Doubt. You shake it from your mind and slowly, very slowly, let your fingers creep to his until they settle on the back of his hand.
Seb stills and his eyes glance down. You begin to pull your hand away, feeling foolish and a bit pathetic.
"I'm sorry, that was... embarrassing-"
"No!" He grabs your hand in mid-air. His voice is quick and not to mention loud, so loud in the emptiness of the parking lot that he squeezes his eyes shut in embarrassment. When he opens them again, he smiles. "Don't." His movements start off slow: one finger on another, one thumb grazing your knuckles, until he's turning your hand around to hold it completely. In a move that sends you yelping, he pulls you closer and your upper-body practically falls on his lap. "Don't apologize."
You huff a small laugh of your own and let your head rest against his chest. You don't even remember why you were questioning yourself so much. Now that you're here in Seb's arms, this is exactly where you should be.
Alternative rock band ST. REVERIE lands the 10th and final spot in this year’s Battle of the Bands tour, shocking the music world with more than their experimental and gritty sound as allegations surround their tense win. Lead vocalist and songwriter Lux Kennedy appears content to let the rumors fly, facing questions of their band’s rocky past with ex-member Seven Lawless and controversial triumph in signature aloof and elusive stride, unwilling to offer comment “unless it’s about the fucking music” despite frequent interactions with dedicated fans pouring to social media in the band’s defense. One thing is for certain: this is a tour no one will want to miss.
