a slow activity multi muse & 1x1 blog as articulated by ollie.
𝗮 𝑐𝘩𝑎𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑠𝑡𝑢𝑑𝑦 𝗼𝗻:
grounds to explore and expectations to analyze. a fertile land for stories to take root and bloom (or perish).
➤ wanted plots / memes / open starters
𝒓𝒖𝒍𝒆𝒔 & 𝒓𝒐𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓:
blog written by ollie , over the age of 25.
- this is a slow to medium activity blog. i like plotting or winging it off an initial idea.
- mature content will be present, but no taboo or dead dove or whatever it's called. don't follow me if you partake in that, either.
- i'm half/half when it comes to using gifs. sometimes you will see them, sometimes you won't. it'll depend on available resources and my time in here.
- open to write but won't follow if i see too much content that's not writing. i like a dash without clutter to read and enjoy.
- all muses are au friendly. i've made the decision to situate them as slice of life but all have fantasy verse options as well.
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she should probably emote less — that's what had gotten her into this situation to begin with. a few too many wayward glances in erkin's direction, a little bit of something that looked too endearing and soft to be gone unnoticed by anyone. it's only fair to jump in the opposite direction — feign disgust and hope for the best. "severe. some might say life threatening. the doctors told me it's terminal," she lets out, sweeping her hair over her shoulders. "wha — well, then maybe you should stop looking at me! that would surely solve some problems." that way, he wouldn't notice the dusting of pink forming over cheeks.
well, damn. is all hope lost? isn't her answer telling him to drop dead? that's what it feels like and he's an expert at reading between lines. (not even close). "i'm a dying man?" a low whistle and a shake of his head later, he decides it's time to stop playing dumb to soften this harsh rejection. "right... so since you don't like me..." a quick peek to make sure she's not having regrets about this all confirms what she's said: she doesn't. look at her, all red in the face with anger. he's doomed. "okay, since that's a definite no. help me out set a dating profile, nur. i need a good picture."
found it miraculous how one picture, one little lie to ward off unwanted attention from a guy, could lead to the two of them sitting like this, hands intertwined and going over what story to form —- to sell a tale of them falling for one another. two acquaintances turning lovers, straight out of a manuscript for a cringy, sweet series. “ mmh, depends on the situation and who i'm talking to. ” sarin's best friend could potentially look straight through him, everybody having that singular person who'd never be fooled by white lies ; that being his biggest worry.
then he's called out, the lack of being seen with a significant other or even being out on dates. the words makes him shift around in his seat a bit, thick brows slightly pushing together before he's looking over at her ; bambi's expression somehow easing up his more stern gaze, knowing she had meant it playfully so, homme needed to calm down. “ that's because it doesn't happen that often, me being interested in somebody else... ”
pad of his thumb starts to caress along femme's hand, tongue running out over lips. “ so, that'd make you special... ” minor smile traces his lips, gaze lifting to meet opposite hues. “ what's... what is your experience with dating ? ” inquiring, curiosity glinting in both orbs while trying to find some sort of middle ground, while also getting to know her more —- felt necessary for this entire act to work successfully.
her interest piques, only spurred by her curiosity. them having mutual friends, bambi will readily admit she likes sarin, as an acquaintance. after a long time of sharing hangouts, though, she finds this might be the first time they talk just the two of them. could they be marching into becoming friends?
it's a twisted path to do so, yet it excites her some.
it's this comfortable sensation that has her at ease while holding hands, despite the new gesture and how intimate it could be interpreted (though, this is more child's play than an actual display of interest). to her, this now means just two friends scheming, not an ounce of real romance sparking between them.
"really?" again, curiosity awakens, and despite the expression in his face (she thinks he's seizing her up), femme moves closer. despite his claim at inexperience, her thoughts reason the opposite: sarin is not as clueless as he might call himself. so far, he's doing great.
"why do you think your interest is seldom? is that question too personal?" now that he's giving her way... she's unstoppable. her mind is made up: this charade of romance will protect her now but she does expect at friendship to blossom at the end of it. "my experience?" she ponders on it briefly, weighing her words before opting for honesty.
"i like dating," which directly translates to she does it a lot. her tales of romance are not unfamiliar to her friends, though her success rate is to be considered... not many men are equipped to deal with her complex work hours and those around her that do... well, it rarely ends well between them. "wait... are you the affectionate type? not a lot? does it bother you?" this is probably where they need to plan a bit, since there are people who know them well enough to spot the farce in here.
❝ i'm not crazy, eda. something's different. you're different. ❞ eyes squint in their pursuit, chasing whatever miniscule shift may (or may not) occur in the other's expression. ❝ see! you're looking at me different. ❞
panic clouds her judgement and blinds her decisive eyes. in this moment, eda recalls and copies what she hates most: a man caught. "are you sure? i think it might be my new hair treatment," gaslighting someone? she can't recognize herself anymore. but the sheer panic of confessing and losing aspen feels like her own personal hell. "see? glossy, no frizz? my fringe has never looked better," fingers run smoothly through her hair, an extreme attempt to keep her feelings hidden.
almost feels like this wasn't real life , and maybe that was for the best , but the diminutive assurance the other gives has another plethora of confessions ready to rapid fire off the tip of her tongue . hues dilated , another dead give away of the tipsy state she wades within . ❝ i just ⸻ i can't stop thinking about you . i know , you're my best friend ... this feeling's not going away , though . ❞
oh, woe. what is this song? whatever tune plays between them now sounds louder than what they're screaming at the top of their lungs in the background. she wishes this was real, not a late night occurrence, so that this sweet lull could be for a little longer. though they might share the same melody, their lyrics might be a little lost in the beat... "i think about you all the time, too," truth or lie? is this moment she's getting caught up in or a real one? a little less alcohol and she might be able to tell... but here comes their latest round of requested cocktails so who the hell knows?
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only times they've been seen together, was surrounded by the rest of their mutual friends, never directly walking side-by-side nor exchanging words. so, for this to also seem real to them —- that posed to be the actual challenge. head turns, facing her as she's speaking out her ideas, slowly nodding with plumb brims pressing together habitually. “ that could work... ” face looks forward again while digits is seen rubbing alongside one another, a coping mechanism while his brain's cogwheels started twisting inside his mind ; knowing the next biggest obstacle for them would be in performing affection naturally, like they weren't just having the longest conversation for the first time.
“ so, one time prior to this episode, something happened and i was there ? ” side glimpsing at her as his hands come undone, reaching over with a slight halt halfway, pondering, before committing to his act. fingers find her petite hand, gently gliding in in between her fingers to lock them with his ; touch gentle and smooth, only issue was how awkward and stiff his wrist looked. “ i'm guessing it'll be hardest to convince our closest friends, wouldn't it ? ” speech still somewhat gentle, knowing his own would be suspicious as first, but eventually understand why a woman like bambi was able to melt the ice away around his heart —- he just needed to be more relaxed in their act, which would be the toughest thing now. / @auspicicus
is a surprise always unexpected? or are there some expected ones? her critical thinking abilities are not watered down but never in her wildest conjectures would sarin help her out or them devising a plan for the ensuing week.
and while her mind races considering the characteristics of surprises, it also works to craft up their plan together.
a surprise for their friends, which reminds her that his words are not untrue. selling it will be another story altogether. so the easiest route is the one they should take, for themselves as well. "yeah, we can go with that," he's thinking and that's easy to spot. bambi gets her thinking cap on as well, rattled off her head when his hand finds hers. slowly, their fingers tangle and her expression turns dazed, focusing on him so his eyes won't stuck to their hands (or the way her throat suddenly feels heavy).
"i think..." she lets her gaze fall to their hands for a beat, then back to him again, "you're a better actor than i probably am." she offers a slight smile to him, partially teasing him with a familiarity that they are yet to explore. "is this how you are when you're flirting? i can't say i've ever seen you... interested in someone before."
a somewhat fond expression abruptly fades into something more like annoyance — nur's face contorting in disgust. even if he isn't entirely off base ( granted, she would hardly admit to it ), what kind of sick individual would point it out so nonchalantly. “you're an idiot. you know that, right?” she comments, rolling her eyes and ignoring inquisition all together.
ouch. an undiscrebably expression of repulsion later, he's got the message. what's left to do? laugh it out, erkin, laugh it out. what's the saying? rejection is just redirection. yeah, fuck that, his confidence is a little fragile right now and his ego feels bruised. "i've been told. but listen... how severely do you think this idiocy may be? -- also, you donpt need to do that expression, i get it, alright." hardy har har.
"what? that's crazy. you're crazy," crazy spot on. holy shit, someone lend her a saving hand over here. it's a two inch deep pool and she's drowning in it. a nightmare she can't wake up indeed.
𓍢ִ໋ ・ ✿ ˚ ༉ ࣪ ˖ ꫂ eyes narrowed imperceptibly at that sentence ⸻ not the inquiry itself , but the sediment behind it . because of course the old man wasn’t interested in how he’d escaped consequences . no . he was asking how creative he’d gotten with it . such a perilous thing to ask that of someone from his bloodline . ❛ first of all , ❜ expression arranged itself into something of theatrical affront as homme reclined further into leather cushions , ❛ i’d appreciate if you stopped sounding so proud every time i commit a misdemeanor . ❜ despite complaint , grin forming across boyish countenance betrayed protest entirely . ❛ second … technically speaking , i didn’t get out of it . ❜ earned himself exactly half a second of dramatic silence before hand rose in languid clarification . ❛ i just redirected the conversation long enough for somebody else to start crying in the lobby . ❜ corners of his mouth twitched upward with unconcealed satisfaction . there it was again — that slick little arrogance he’d inherited so directly from erkin it was almost insulting . ❛ anyways , i’m banned from that building now . only temporarily …… i think . ❜
some austrian guy in the late 1800s pushes forward a revolutionary idea: words instead of drugs. and suddenly all children in the world are holding their parents under a microscope; dissecting, watching, analyzing. "do you think you're more an apple or another fruit?" you know, since he's not fallen far from the tree. and it amuses erkin, watching those minuscule changes in expression, from judgy to excitement. that's definitely his kid. "so you did... but no ban is permanent. it's only a suggestion, you can go back in a few years," he lunges back in his seat, the picture of relaxation and idleness. "have i ever told you the time i stole some wine from a very cranky, very wild deity? he banned me from a wineyard, too. long story short, we sit there every saturday for casual chit chat, so no ban is permanent." lessons for life and life for lessons... whatever, it gets muddy in his sandals.
𓍢ִ໋ ・ ✿ ˚ ༉ ࣪ ˖ ꫂ ❛ it’s not bullshit , dan . i’m serious . ❜ gaze cut past breadth of broad shoulder towards the bottle blonde he’d been entertaining earlier ⸻ pretty in the way of something disposable , eager enough for someone who didn’t know any better , and most damningly , the kind of girl that wouldn’t stick around . exactly the type xeriz wouldn’t think about twice … under normal circumstances . hated that she’d noticed at all . even more so how the image of them together had wedged itself beneath her skin like a splinter impossible of digging out . dainty limbs crossed over chest , manicured nails biting into the soft flesh of elbow as she resisted the urge to roll her eyes . ❛ i didn’t realize we were back to you collecting girls at the bar like loyalty punch cards . ❜
patience runs thinner by the second, eludes the string of logic that ties his thoughts together. as it snaps, he's reminded that every time it is xeriz who holds the scissors, a cruel fate cackling at the struggle of his heart against his mind. "i can see you are," tone lacks any empathy as her eyes go beyond his shoulders and it dawns on him. the girl from earlier, just another blurry face in the crowd, one he'd barely exchanged three phrases with. and there it is, a confirmation of his suspicions, "i can't believe this is a conversation we are having." on the other hand... a sick satisfaction runs through him, a slight appreciation of her possessiveness even here.
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steps are silent as she stands in front of her work, pensive look as her mind conjures what new lines, colors and spaces she would use to convey what she has already painted. deaf to her surroundings, lala miraculously comes to when words of critique are offered, "can you repeat that?" no offense but genuine interest comes from shared interpretation.
it's a night out and time moves slowly until they hold a conversation. loud noise turns into a nuisance, and a sudden proposal spouts from taewoo's mouth, "at the risk of being a cliché, do you want to get out of here?"
sweet, sweet time in his arms. charming words sprinkle their conversation, melting the sugary disposition she brings. it is no wonder she folds in the presence of dean dilaurentis or that she finds herself captivated in the warmth of his arms. breath bubbles inside her lungs as they share a kiss, not as sweet as their previous interaction. gently, she pats his chest, seeking some distance between them to let air in once again, "slow down a little, no need to hurry, dean."
classic. there is not an ounce of doubt that this child is his. from another time and life, a divinely intervened appearance in between. "you know what? i tell my dad the same." a quiet snicker, hearty laughter to color in the scene. "so how did you get out of it?"
does he? it takes a minute for her words to sink in slip into his ear over the beats booming through the speakers. this is not his crowd. at all. multitudes, loud noises and idle chatter: all three things he loathes with a passion. yet she dares question him about caring. "i'm going to pretend you didn't ask that bullshit," it's only because he cares that he's here.
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"uh oh... what is that look?" there comes a moment in life when a man should learn to keep his mouth shut (plenty, actually). but like any man out there, erkin continues on with conviction and some hesitation, "don't tell me you have feelings for me."
open to anyone , introducing sophie ortega .
based on .
❝ wish i could tell you , i think about you all the time ⸻ i'm scared to death that i'll be wishing for you for the rest of my life . ❞ inebriated state provides the sense of illusionaries , a subtle tactic in protecting self . a hard truth she'd have to face in the morning , the hypocrisy in stating she wished she could speak the very truths spilling from brims .
wish she could tell... and she does. controlled words spill out in a tandem, running wildly between the deafening silence that ensues. thoughts almost sober but the sweet temptation of these drinks buzzes through her, pulls her back into the safety of a drunkenly crafted scene. "don't be scared," a soft slur, quiet wave of words not graciously woven together yet, "i'm here, sophie."