my heart was lost on a distant planet

The Nox twins, Deimos and Phobos (Elden Ring OCs) + She/Her + follows from @gehrmansbignaturals + PFP by the wonderful @patchesenthusiast!

[radiant-and-terrifying]

~~ Phobos of the Nox

TAGS:

; phobos includes all my posts about my ER oc

; the stars speak includes answered asks

; sinday includes, well, what it says on the label

; shut up radi includes my ooc textposts

; ooc includes ooc reblogs

; a plea to the stars includes rp ask memes

; radi rambles includes my writing

; radi’s hcs include my headcanons about the eternal city nokstella from elden ring

INFO:

Feel free to send me starters, OC asks, or just anything on your mind! I’m new to this community, but I’d like to say I’m pretty friendly :)

I am 20+! Minors please DNI.

This blog will post ns.ft content and subjects, tagged with ; nsft — block this tag if you are uncomfortable seeing it!

Shipping of any sort is welcome here, romance the emo nox!

MAPS/TERFs/Exclusionists DNI.

If we are RPing and a topic or situation comes up that I am uncomfortable with, I will make it very clear. However, a heads-up for particularly sensitive content in DMs beforehand is always appreciated. Thanks!

[arbredevies]

@radiant-and-terrifying

Hot tea laid bare an unpleasant affliction upon his sensitive skin. Many a time had he found his mouth scalded, seething in pain for the for-told future. His gaze was wary, testing her reaction even now that she had compliment its flavour. She enjoyed his concoction, as simple as it was. A bitter liquid that found itself sweetened by her presence.

“ Good, good. Now, why did you pay me a visit? It certainly isn’t for a social visit. Help with exams, perhaps? Or do you need something mending? ” It was lucky that Phobos had chosen to attend his cottage. Other students would be disgruntled, either studying for exams or fast asleep in their dorms. Gehr, on the other hand, granted himself very little sleep. He slept late at night and awakened early in the morning. No one truly yearned for his presence, did they? He was a work man, paid a salary and expected to work. Even his closest friends were fond of his ability to create, to form objects from simple parts. Phobos would not be any different, he assumed, although it pained him so. A simple groundskeeper. He was beneath even the least wealthy of students at the college in status and goods.

“ I need to teach you how to sew. I have no idea how you keep tearing your clothes. ” He scolded her in the form of a sharp ‘tut’, not harsh but enough to maintain his disposition. His fingers sought her blouse, testing the torn lace at the front. “ A mess… ” He leaned closer. “ I’ll need to remove, repair and… a long task. Lace is so fickle, you see. It would take the whole night. Do you have a formal meeting tomorrow? If so, I should get to work. ”

[radiant-and-terrifying]

"Not... exactly." She blinks at his sudden question of why she's found herself at his doorstep, not because she honestly doesn't know, but because she hadn't expected it to come up so quickly. Perhaps, she'd thought, if she didn't talk much and buried herself in her tea, it wouldn't come up at all-- but unfortunately, it seems that he wasn't keen to let the subject go. Her mouth is halfway open, eyes flitting away as she digs in the lining of her satchel, before his gaze drops to the torn lace of her blouse.

Lace. A silly garment for sillier people. She understood neither the frivolity of which is was crafted with nor its appeal, itchy and cumbersome in general, and she would have bought another blouse without lace if not for her general lack of coin and crafting ability. Phobos can't even remember where it was that she'd torn the blouse; its sturdiness far less than any well-made clothing she was used to wearing; honestly she'd thought she knew before how to sew, but apparently Yharnamites made clothing much differently than her people did.

He leans closer, and her breath catches in her throat, eyes darting downwards to where he holds the front of her blouse, those talented fingers brushing across the rough edges of the lace. Truly, did he have any idea what he was doing to her? Perhaps if he'd been another man, she'd have shot him one of her signature glares, but at present, she only lowers her hands to unbutton the shirt-- a gesture that might have been seen as vulgar by the denizens of the city, but... oddly, or perhaps not-so-oddly, she finds she doesn't care. She knew Gehrman after all, and it wasn't as if she'd be cold without her shirt.

The shirt is set to the side, haphazardly folded, and only then does Phobos remember the rest of his question. Suddenly, she finds herself unable to look him in the eye as she reaches once more into her satchel, fingers clothing around the tiny wooden contraption she sets on the table besides her half-empty teacup, scratched and uneven in its design. The music box has clearly been broken, but something— someone— appears to have tried to put it back together.

"... I found it in storage," she mumbles, nearly inaudible. ".. Tried to fix it, but... I could not figure out how." And no wonder; with all the music box's gears and springs and intricacies, she wouldn't have been able to with all the expertise in the world without the right tools.

"It made me… think.. of you.”

[arbredevies]

Exasperation.

Had he been impolite in his questioning? She was not so much offended, fortunately, yet her mouth was agape as if he had uttered an obscene phrase. The satchel was a welcome distraction though it was as cursory an interaction as her touch. He stirred. Had his words rushed her, made her feel as though she were not welcome? Or, rather, was his offer of mending inappropriate? These daunting concerns were swiftly extirpated at the sight of her exposed skin.

“ Ah, I did not mean- well… I suppose it would be necessary to mend the fabric. You must be… yes, it is cold indeed. I shall light the fire. “ Flustered at such a menial act was unbecoming of a mature man of above thirty years yet flustered he was nonetheless. They were well acquainted but her presence was not taken for granted, nor was her figure. He flourished the iron poker, crouched down haphazardly to toy with the fading embers. Dry wood, tepid fire. His own garments lacked opulence. A loose ‘pirate shirt’ that did little to conceal the russet hair that shrouded his formed chest. The man had breathed a sigh of relief that he was not yet dressed in his loose sleepwear. His nocturnal inclinations had proven to be his saviour.

Eyes guarded, daren’t meeting her gaze, he approached her once more to examine the lace shirt. The music box was pushed into his vision by timid hands, gilded in gold, formed of softwood that displayed signs of age. An item to mend, a gentle plea. Amateur errors had further damaged the contraptions, laid bare its insides, torn through gears and springs alike.

‘ It made me think of you. ’

Phobos’ words were timid though weighted. She had considered him upon unearthing this damaged antique, similar to the numerous items that littered his cottage. His workbench did indeed lay empty, hungry for another good to repair. He set aside the shirt and accepted the music box, touch gentle as to not disturb it’s contraption. A mutual gift.

The groundskeeper finally mustered up the courage to meet her eyes, silently seeking answers, warmed by the fire.

“ Thank you, Phobos. I am certain that I can repair it. “ He reached for her pale hand, smoothing his thumb across her palm in a sleek motion. His own palms were rough with arduous chores, fingertips smoothed by the surface of his scythe. “ I must admit that I cannot offer you any gift aside from my tailoring skills. The tea does not suffice, after all. I forget that the water must cool for ten seconds before pouring else the leaves shall be scorched, that brewing should only occur for a mere two minutes, milk to be added after the process… “ Absentmindedly, his touch had fell upon her cheek. Perhaps he was genuinely interested in his words or, more likely, he was distracting himself. He drew her close, attentively, firmly.

[radiant-and-terrifying]

Surely, the outlander should feel some degree of shame from the blatant glance she gives as Gehr.man bends down to tend the fire, dragging down the loose fabric of his shirt, lingering on the faint curls of hair visible in the fabric’s slit. It takes her another moment still to pretend she’d simply been studying the fire-- Phobos knows she’s not exactly known amongst her peers for understanding social cues, but at the very least she knew not to stare. (Or to only stare when one was certain no one was watching.) His eyes meet hers, and her breath snags in her throat uncomfortably. He was confused. He was confused, and she could not offer the explanation he sought. What little she could read from his eyes was fleeting, and only served to fuel her own uncertainty. Perhaps she’d overstepped; misread something somehow... The gentle touch of his hand on hers, rough and dry yet so, so warm, coaxes her thoughts back into a dull whisper. She cannot help but embrace it with her own, dark and cool yet oddly comforting. And still, he kept speaking, lamenting on his inability to prepare her a gift of all things when she’d appeared, unannounced, far past any normal hours. It takes a moment for Phobos to realize she has lifted a single finger to press against his lips, gently quieting him. “It is alright,” she says, rather firmly, but not unkindly by any means. “I... you do not need to provide me with anything. I am grateful you opened the door at all.” Her other hand is gently placed atop the one caressing her cheek absent-mindedly, enjoying the warmth. “And, besides, I am hardly picky about tea.”

[arbredevies]

Soft skin graced his errant lips, soothing his apprehensive consciousness and hushing his concerned words. A familiar warmth, the sort that burned far stronger than the cottage hearth. It felt as though it scorched his skin, her touch a jolt of electricity down his bent spine. Though her finger lacked real warmth. A truly peculiar realisation. Her frigid form was imbued with a heat that only he was permitted; his body sought her cold as though she were a roaring fire flickering in a blizzard.

And then, a chuckle.

“You would silence me so? My, my, I do deserve to be hushed as though I am a fussing child, don’t I?” His hand lingered, fingers grazing her high cheekbones as he admired the dark freckles that peppered her skin.

Why must hot and cold be opposed to one another? Her chill, his mellow warmth did not find the other offensive, quite the contrary. They invited each other, morphed them into little more than light-seeking moths. The hunter wished her frigidity to roam his body, permeate every groove of him, deny him his very heat. He wanted to drown in her, lose himself to the storm.

“ It has… you have not visited me for some time. I missed your company. “ Gehr/man broke through the barrier of his own creation, a tender kiss accompanying his words. The sorrowful vibrations tickled their lips as he parted his mouth and drew her in closer, hips form fitting against one another. His longing was apparent by the very swell upon her hip; fervid and shameless. “ Won’t you stay tonight? It is late and… well, I must confess that I wish for your presence. “

“ If you find it obscene of me to ask, I can only apologise. “ Gehr/man’s breath was hot, shallow. He impelled a knee between her legs, parting them gently. “ Though your warmth upon my thigh indeed says otherwise. “

[radiant-and-terrifying]

"I wished only to... quell your concerns of pushing me away," murmurs the outsider, their eyes meeting for a moment that seems both fleeting and eternal as they lose themselves in their own thoughts.

His eyes are not truly blue, she realizes between the faint ticks of a clock somewhere in the distance, they're more of a muddled mix of storm-grey. It reminds her, faintly, of staring into barely-frozen water, somewhere just before morning, watching hoarfrost creep over fallen leaves. Phobos wants, she needs, more than anything, to part her lips, to say just how beautiful she finds him, accented by the warm light of the fire-- and yet she cannot. Something cowardly hitches in her chest, and she is silent. So she urges herself to show how dearly she missed him, tilting her head inwards to press their lips together once more. Slowly, she enters through his parted lips, drinking in his shivers with needy fervour. Stars above, what she wouldn't do to him if he allowed her-- and the press against her thigh tells her that he just might. Her other hand sneaks downwards to blatantly palm him through his clothing, just as shameless as her own press inwards against his thigh, feeling him out with a torturous slowness. Phobos' eyes blaze with passion as she urges forwards still, backing Gehr.man up against the smooth wood of his own cottage wall-- (and truly, her own height against his may have looked a tad strange, but she is far past caring now)-- and kisses him again. "I would be delighted," she murmurs between the parting of their lips, "to stay the night."

[lauramakabresku]

quiet evenings

[arbredevies]

@radiant-and-terrifying

[that-house]

[rpmemes-gallery]

“I wish you would ____.” in my inbox and my muse will respond.

[gamoraswonder]

Jane Eye (2011) dir. Cary Joji Fukunaga

[arbredevies]

@radiant-and-terrifying

[awokerph]

since there are a lot of new roleplayers migrating here from twitter here are some small reminders!

- READ RULES. THE BIGGEST TIP FOR TUMBLR RPC IS TO READ EVERYONES RULES BEFORE YOU FOLLOW, this is a diverse community with minors, people who are 18+ only, mutuals only etc. roleplay is a two-way hobby and requires effective communication between partners, and reading rules is an extremely important step towards this! PLEASE read rules and respect them!

- if someone states in their rules that they require a password, SEND THE PASSWORD!! you can request to the other mun not to publicly post the password if you are anxious enough! the worst that can happen is a soft/hardblock!

- please fill interest trackers on multimuses (and singles if they have them)! they are there for a reason! even if you believe that following someone is enough to show you're interested, a lot of muns will not know what piqued your interest! especially when your muse is from a source the other mun may not know!

- you do not owe anyone replies! i'm not sure how twitter works, but here you can take as much time as you like! your drafts and queue are your best friend! use them!!! a lot of muns will not punish you for not replying the second they post their reply!

- cutting posts/adding read mores are essential to a tidy dash, your mutuals will thank you! there are plenty of extensions such as xkit that help with this! i may make a separate posts with links to tutorials for this if anyone is curious!!

- don't censor words! the tagging system here works perfectly fine, by censoring trigger words or content warnings, you put muns in more danger! the most common tags i'd recommend are "content", "content cw", "content tw", "content //" and "user don't look"! replace content with the tag, or user with a mun!! always ask your partners what tagging systems they'd prefer or make it clear how you tag your content! please avoid tagging content like "c*nt3nt"!!

please feel free to add more!

[elden-shame]

Phobos || Gift for @gehrmansbignaturals / @radiant-and-terrifying

( Click for better quality, made with Adobe express, outer images sourced from Pinterest and/or Google, central image drawn by @patchesenthusiast )

[gehrmansbignaturals]

Join the Omenbed Companions Discord Server!

Check out the Omenbed Companions community on Discord - hang out with 4 other members and enjoy free voice and text chat.

THE MORGOTT SIMPAGE DISCORD SERVER IS LIVE!!! Come talk about crucible knots with us!

[arbredevies]

@radiant-and-terrifying

Hot tea laid bare an unpleasant affliction upon his sensitive skin. Many a time had he found his mouth scalded, seething in pain for the for-told future. His gaze was wary, testing her reaction even now that she had compliment its flavour. She enjoyed his concoction, as simple as it was. A bitter liquid that found itself sweetened by her presence.

“ Good, good. Now, why did you pay me a visit? It certainly isn’t for a social visit. Help with exams, perhaps? Or do you need something mending? ” It was lucky that Phobos had chosen to attend his cottage. Other students would be disgruntled, either studying for exams or fast asleep in their dorms. Gehr, on the other hand, granted himself very little sleep. He slept late at night and awakened early in the morning. No one truly yearned for his presence, did they? He was a work man, paid a salary and expected to work. Even his closest friends were fond of his ability to create, to form objects from simple parts. Phobos would not be any different, he assumed, although it pained him so. A simple groundskeeper. He was beneath even the least wealthy of students at the college in status and goods.

“ I need to teach you how to sew. I have no idea how you keep tearing your clothes. ” He scolded her in the form of a sharp ‘tut’, not harsh but enough to maintain his disposition. His fingers sought her blouse, testing the torn lace at the front. “ A mess… ” He leaned closer. “ I’ll need to remove, repair and… a long task. Lace is so fickle, you see. It would take the whole night. Do you have a formal meeting tomorrow? If so, I should get to work. ”

[radiant-and-terrifying]

"Not... exactly." She blinks at his sudden question of why she's found herself at his doorstep, not because she honestly doesn't know, but because she hadn't expected it to come up so quickly. Perhaps, she'd thought, if she didn't talk much and buried herself in her tea, it wouldn't come up at all-- but unfortunately, it seems that he wasn't keen to let the subject go. Her mouth is halfway open, eyes flitting away as she digs in the lining of her satchel, before his gaze drops to the torn lace of her blouse.

Lace. A silly garment for sillier people. She understood neither the frivolity of which is was crafted with nor its appeal, itchy and cumbersome in general, and she would have bought another blouse without lace if not for her general lack of coin and crafting ability. Phobos can't even remember where it was that she'd torn the blouse; its sturdiness far less than any well-made clothing she was used to wearing; honestly she'd thought she knew before how to sew, but apparently Yharnamites made clothing much differently than her people did.

He leans closer, and her breath catches in her throat, eyes darting downwards to where he holds the front of her blouse, those talented fingers brushing across the rough edges of the lace. Truly, did he have any idea what he was doing to her? Perhaps if he'd been another man, she'd have shot him one of her signature glares, but at present, she only lowers her hands to unbutton the shirt-- a gesture that might have been seen as vulgar by the denizens of the city, but... oddly, or perhaps not-so-oddly, she finds she doesn't care. She knew Gehrman after all, and it wasn't as if she'd be cold without her shirt.

The shirt is set to the side, haphazardly folded, and only then does Phobos remember the rest of his question. Suddenly, she finds herself unable to look him in the eye as she reaches once more into her satchel, fingers clothing around the tiny wooden contraption she sets on the table besides her half-empty teacup, scratched and uneven in its design. The music box has clearly been broken, but something— someone— appears to have tried to put it back together.

"... I found it in storage," she mumbles, nearly inaudible. ".. Tried to fix it, but... I could not figure out how." And no wonder; with all the music box's gears and springs and intricacies, she wouldn't have been able to with all the expertise in the world without the right tools.

"It made me… think.. of you.”

[arbredevies]

Exasperation.

Had he been impolite in his questioning? She was not so much offended, fortunately, yet her mouth was agape as if he had uttered an obscene phrase. The satchel was a welcome distraction though it was as cursory an interaction as her touch. He stirred. Had his words rushed her, made her feel as though she were not welcome? Or, rather, was his offer of mending inappropriate? These daunting concerns were swiftly extirpated at the sight of her exposed skin.

“ Ah, I did not mean- well… I suppose it would be necessary to mend the fabric. You must be… yes, it is cold indeed. I shall light the fire. “ Flustered at such a menial act was unbecoming of a mature man of above thirty years yet flustered he was nonetheless. They were well acquainted but her presence was not taken for granted, nor was her figure. He flourished the iron poker, crouched down haphazardly to toy with the fading embers. Dry wood, tepid fire. His own garments lacked opulence. A loose ‘pirate shirt’ that did little to conceal the russet hair that shrouded his formed chest. The man had breathed a sigh of relief that he was not yet dressed in his loose sleepwear. His nocturnal inclinations had proven to be his saviour.

Eyes guarded, daren’t meeting her gaze, he approached her once more to examine the lace shirt. The music box was pushed into his vision by timid hands, gilded in gold, formed of softwood that displayed signs of age. An item to mend, a gentle plea. Amateur errors had further damaged the contraptions, laid bare its insides, torn through gears and springs alike.

‘ It made me think of you. ’

Phobos’ words were timid though weighted. She had considered him upon unearthing this damaged antique, similar to the numerous items that littered his cottage. His workbench did indeed lay empty, hungry for another good to repair. He set aside the shirt and accepted the music box, touch gentle as to not disturb it’s contraption. A mutual gift.

The groundskeeper finally mustered up the courage to meet her eyes, silently seeking answers, warmed by the fire.

“ Thank you, Phobos. I am certain that I can repair it. “ He reached for her pale hand, smoothing his thumb across her palm in a sleek motion. His own palms were rough with arduous chores, fingertips smoothed by the surface of his scythe. “ I must admit that I cannot offer you any gift aside from my tailoring skills. The tea does not suffice, after all. I forget that the water must cool for ten seconds before pouring else the leaves shall be scorched, that brewing should only occur for a mere two minutes, milk to be added after the process… “ Absentmindedly, his touch had fell upon her cheek. Perhaps he was genuinely interested in his words or, more likely, he was distracting himself. He drew her close, attentively, firmly.

[radiant-and-terrifying]

Surely, the outlander should feel some degree of shame from the blatant glance she gives as Gehr.man bends down to tend the fire, dragging down the loose fabric of his shirt, lingering on the faint curls of hair visible in the fabric’s slit. It takes her another moment still to pretend she’d simply been studying the fire-- Phobos knows she’s not exactly known amongst her peers for understanding social cues, but at the very least she knew not to stare. (Or to only stare when one was certain no one was watching.) His eyes meet hers, and her breath snags in her throat uncomfortably. He was confused. He was confused, and she could not offer the explanation he sought. What little she could read from his eyes was fleeting, and only served to fuel her own uncertainty. Perhaps she’d overstepped; misread something somehow... The gentle touch of his hand on hers, rough and dry yet so, so warm, coaxes her thoughts back into a dull whisper. She cannot help but embrace it with her own, dark and cool yet oddly comforting. And still, he kept speaking, lamenting on his inability to prepare her a gift of all things when she’d appeared, unannounced, far past any normal hours. It takes a moment for Phobos to realize she has lifted a single finger to press against his lips, gently quieting him. “It is alright,” she says, rather firmly, but not unkindly by any means. “I... you do not need to provide me with anything. I am grateful you opened the door at all.” Her other hand is gently placed atop the one caressing her cheek absent-mindedly, enjoying the warmth. “And, besides, I am hardly picky about tea.”

[arbredevies]

@radiant-and-terrifying

Hot tea laid bare an unpleasant affliction upon his sensitive skin. Many a time had he found his mouth scalded, seething in pain for the for-told future. His gaze was wary, testing her reaction even now that she had compliment its flavour. She enjoyed his concoction, as simple as it was. A bitter liquid that found itself sweetened by her presence.

“ Good, good. Now, why did you pay me a visit? It certainly isn’t for a social visit. Help with exams, perhaps? Or do you need something mending? ” It was lucky that Phobos had chosen to attend his cottage. Other students would be disgruntled, either studying for exams or fast asleep in their dorms. Gehr, on the other hand, granted himself very little sleep. He slept late at night and awakened early in the morning. No one truly yearned for his presence, did they? He was a work man, paid a salary and expected to work. Even his closest friends were fond of his ability to create, to form objects from simple parts. Phobos would not be any different, he assumed, although it pained him so. A simple groundskeeper. He was beneath even the least wealthy of students at the college in status and goods.

“ I need to teach you how to sew. I have no idea how you keep tearing your clothes. ” He scolded her in the form of a sharp ‘tut’, not harsh but enough to maintain his disposition. His fingers sought her blouse, testing the torn lace at the front. “ A mess… ” He leaned closer. “ I’ll need to remove, repair and… a long task. Lace is so fickle, you see. It would take the whole night. Do you have a formal meeting tomorrow? If so, I should get to work. ”

[radiant-and-terrifying]

"Not... exactly." She blinks at his sudden question of why she's found herself at his doorstep, not because she honestly doesn't know, but because she hadn't expected it to come up so quickly. Perhaps, she'd thought, if she didn't talk much and buried herself in her tea, it wouldn't come up at all-- but unfortunately, it seems that he wasn't keen to let the subject go. Her mouth is halfway open, eyes flitting away as she digs in the lining of her satchel, before his gaze drops to the torn lace of her blouse.

Lace. A silly garment for sillier people. She understood neither the frivolity of which is was crafted with nor its appeal, itchy and cumbersome in general, and she would have bought another blouse without lace if not for her general lack of coin and crafting ability. Phobos can't even remember where it was that she'd torn the blouse; its sturdiness far less than any well-made clothing she was used to wearing; honestly she'd thought she knew before how to sew, but apparently Yharnamites made clothing much differently than her people did.

He leans closer, and her breath catches in her throat, eyes darting downwards to where he holds the front of her blouse, those talented fingers brushing across the rough edges of the lace. Truly, did he have any idea what he was doing to her? Perhaps if he'd been another man, she'd have shot him one of her signature glares, but at present, she only lowers her hands to unbutton the shirt-- a gesture that might have been seen as vulgar by the denizens of the city, but... oddly, or perhaps not-so-oddly, she finds she doesn't care. She knew Gehrman after all, and it wasn't as if she'd be cold without her shirt.

The shirt is set to the side, haphazardly folded, and only then does Phobos remember the rest of his question. Suddenly, she finds herself unable to look him in the eye as she reaches once more into her satchel, fingers clothing around the tiny wooden contraption she sets on the table besides her half-empty teacup, scratched and uneven in its design. The music box has clearly been broken, but something— someone— appears to have tried to put it back together.

"... I found it in storage," she mumbles, nearly inaudible. ".. Tried to fix it, but... I could not figure out how." And no wonder; with all the music box's gears and springs and intricacies, she wouldn't have been able to with all the expertise in the world without the right tools.

"It made me… think.. of you.”

[radiant-and-terrifying]

|| A Traveler In Nokstella

[sapphling]

does anybody want to let me lay them down and part their legs and hold them while I slide my strap into them so gently, and whisper in their ear that it's alright, that I've got them, because my arms are strong and I can hold them around the edges when they start to melt and I can wrap my hands in their hair while they're panting and whimpering and I can hold them down and press their face into my shoulder and keep them together even while I'm grabbing them and fucking them and making them fall apart for me. or play videogames or something idk I'm free

[radiant-and-terrifying]

i can’t believe I actually gotta say this but don’t fucking interact if you ship or condone m*hgmiq or nsfw of miquella

[rpmemes-galore]

send me  “ how long are you going to keep feeling sorry for yourself? “   for my muse’s reaction to yours snapping this at them. 

[brainbetrayed]

* idiots to lovers romantic starters

also known as rivals to lovers / idiots to idiots but they’re lovers / rivals to besties / rivals to idiots, the list goes on. some of these are inspired by pre-existing media. change pronouns/aggressive terms of endearment/insults as you see fit! these can also be platonic of course!

“i dunno. sometimes i just… feel things when you’re around.”

“i love your ass.”

“your ass is your best quality.”

“i’d tap that.”

“i love you, bitch.”

“do you ever feel… like… you know… things? like… those warm… feelings?”

“oh my god, stop looking at me like that! i’m gonna end up kissing you.”

“sometimes you’re not annoying.”

“you don’t, like… make me wanna tear my eyes out… or whatever.”

“you love me? are you sure?”

“i don’t hate you.”

“shut up and stay. please.”

“i hate when people say shit like ‘you’re my best friend, i love you, i can’t imagine my life without you. i wake up and you’re the first thing on my mind, and the last thing before i go to sleep. suddenly all the love songs make sense.’ you know? i prefer starting it by saying how much i hate when other people say it, then say what i mean anyway. it’s way less embarrassing like that.”

“we aren’t friends. friends don’t do this kinda thing.”

“maybe i don’t wanna be just friends with you.”

“who the fuck said you aren’t funny?”

“who the fuck called you boring?”

“who the fuck said that? you’re great.”

“i don’t think you’re weird. i think you’re cute.”

“i don’t think you’re weird. you’re a dumbass, maybe, but i like that about you.”

“obviously i like you! i’ve been trying to tell you for ages now!”

“i’ve been flirting with you for the last six months, thanks for noticing.”

“some parts of you don’t make a lot of sense to me, but i don’t know why the sky turns pink at sunset and i still think it’s beautiful.”

“i want you. i don’t know why, i can’t explain it, but i just wanna be around you all the time.”

“i woke up one morning and realised i loved you.”

“you’re the worst. i love it.”

“you’re stupid, that’s what you are, buddy.”

“i wouldn’t die for you, but i think i’d kill for you. maybe. but then, that would mean going to jail… nah. i take it back. no offence.”

“did you know when i call you dude i mean it romantically?”

“what are you gonna do? kiss me?”

“you don’t look totally ugly today.”

“you look… never mind. i didn’t say shit!”

“they’re just flowers, don’t read into it.”

“can you please stop moving your mouth so i can kiss you?”

“you wanna kiss me so bad it makes you look stupid.”

“i trust you, stupid.”

“i love you, dumbass.”

“you’re a pain in the ass but i’m glad we met.”

“of course i care about what you think of me!”

“you’re looking at me funny.”

“i’m not looking at you funny! this is just how i look at someone i hate.”

“being with you makes me feel like a better person.”

“being with you makes me feel like a better person. i look like an angel compared to you.”

“huh? what was that? are you being nice to me?”

“sorry i made things weird the other day. we can still hang out, right?”

“sorry i kissed you, that was stupid. let’s just forget about it.”

“maybe kissing you was stupid but i don’t regret it.”

“are we hugging right now, bro? is that what we’re doing? do we… keep going? do we stop?”

“i’m not going anywhere.”

“i’m here, aren’t i?”

“this is all your fault!” *it is not*

“you drive me crazy in a way that makes everyone else look boring.”

“i can tell when you’re lying, you know. you ain’t slick.”

[leneemusing]

DARKER THRILLING PROMPTS

content warning for themes of violence, gore, death,  horror and general dark themes as stated in title. obviously these can be used for any context but i figured i’d provide some content for spooky season. ♡

ANTAGONIST 

“  did you really think you could hide from me?  ”

“  no one is coming to save you.  ”

“  now,  i’m gonna have to kill you.  but i won’t let it hurt.  i promise you that much.  ”

“  what?  crying already?  ”

“  keep your goddamn mouth shut!  ”

“  oh,  don’t look at me like that.  surely you’re used to being hurt by now.  i always pick the damaged ones.  ”

“  damn—  you’re a really fucking fast runner you know that?  ”

“  it’s so cute that you think you’re going to survive.  ”

“  you can scream all you want.  no one will hear you.  ”

“  i’ve been planning this for so long.  ”

“  oh yes,  i remember now.  i had so much fun killing that one.  ”

“  i really wish you hadn’t said that...  ” 

“  well shit.  i didn’t want you to see this—  blood really isn’t my color.  ”

“  i’m warning you to walk away now.  forget you saw this.  ”

“  if i see you again,  i’ll take your eyes.  ”

“  don’t give up now,  i’m just getting started.  ”

“  i was hoping you’d put up a fight.  ”

“  stop squirming— it will hurt less.  ”

“  you’re not getting out of this.  ”

“  i’m afraid it has to be this way.  ”

“  it was always going to end like this.  just accept your fate.  ”

“  i really don’t like having to do this.  please don’t make it harder.  ”

“  just let go,  feel the life draining away. it’ll be peaceful.  ”

“  shh it’ll all be over soon.  ”

“  oh,  you’re going to be a fun one to take apart.  ”

[ INTIMIDATE ]  for one muse to use gentleness in a threatening manner  (  stroking their face or hair etc  ). 

[  CRUEL ]  for one muse to threaten the other by putting a hand around their throat without fully choking them. 

[ TRAPPED ]  for one muse to wake up bound to chair. 

[ GROUP ] for both our muses to wake up,  bound and about to be tortured. 

[ KNIFE ] for one muse to stab the other.

[ BULLET ] for one muse to shoot the other. 

[ CRACK ] for one muse to break the other’s bone  (  feel free to specify location  ). 

[ BRUISE ] for one muse to punch the other.  

[ CAUGHT ] for one muse to discover the other in the act of killing someone. 

[ LATE ] for one muse to discover the other after they just killed someone. 

[ QUIET ] for one muse to menacingly put a finger over their mouth to indicate the other to hush. 

[ WHISPER ] for one muse to put their finger over the others mouth while intimidating them.

TARGET/WITNESS

“  why are you doing this to me?  ”

“  what the fuck do you want from me?!  ”

“  i swear to god i’ll shoot!  ”

“  what the fuck is wrong with you?  ”

“  i’ll do whatever you want,  it doesn’t have to be like this.  ”

“  why are you like this?  what happened to you?  ”

“  please—  help me—  ”

“  i think i’m dying—  fuck i’m gonna die…  ”

“  i can’t keep running.  ”

“  please, stop—  ”  

“  go to hell you fucking bastard!  ”

“  i won’t cry for you.  ”

“  hurt me all you want,  i won’t let you break me.  ”

“  go fuck yourself.  ”

“  oh,  i don’t think you’re misunderstood.  i just think you’re a little bitch who only gets off when they’re hurting people.  ”

“  newsflash asshole,  we’re all fucked up.  you don’t see me going around killing anyone over it.  ”

“  what did you do? what the hell did you just do?  ”

“  you said you wouldn’t do this anymore.  ”

“  enough! just.  stop.  ”

“  okay,  you’re really starting to freak me out this isn’t funny anymore.  ”

“  just leave me alone! ” 

“  we have to keep running—  ”

“  get the fuck outta here,  it’s not safe!  ”

“  we can’t hide here forever.  ”

“  who’s after you?  ”

“  don’t leave me here!  ”

[ DEFEND ] for one muse to fight back against the other. 

[ LOGIC ] for one muse to try and reason with an antagonist. 

[ FLEE ] for one muse to witness the other do something violent and immediately run away. 

[ LIVE ] for one muse to be injured by an antagonist and barely survive. 

[ HELP ] for one muse to stumble upon the other after getting attacked. 

[ SURVIVE ] for one muse to have to leave the other behind to run from an antagonist. 

[ GRIEF ] for one muse to watch the other get hurt/killed. 

[ PURSUIT ] for one muse to chase the other. 

[ SURPRISE ] for one muse to grab the other from behind,  hand over their mouth but with the intent to help them hide. 

[ COLLIDE ] for one muse to run into the other’s arms after fleeing from an attacker. 

[ AID ] for one muse to find the other in shock,  hiding from something or someone. 

[ RESCUE ] for one muse to just narrowly get saved by the other.