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#tatiana starters
waywardsculs · 8 hours
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Calls for attention in the language of her people.
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29thdegree · 8 months
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intended for , anyone . mutuals only . plot , they recognize who she is . wants to know if the magic is real or if she's a fraud . muse , tatiana dhor .
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“  of  course  it’s  real  .  everything  i  do  is  .  like  for  instance  ,  am  i  sensing  a  skeptical  bias  ?  i  very  much  am  and  it’s  coming  from  you  .  ”
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magicmadnessx · 1 year
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Closed to @glittersgcld Based loosely on this
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She should have called first, but the thought hadn't occurred to Tatiana until she was already knocking at Luke's door. But she hadn't been exactly rational when she'd fled her apartment, unable to bear being around her boyfriend after their latest fight. "Shit, 'm such a fucking idiot," she grumbled to herself. Tati gave it a moment before she began pounding on the door in frustration, as if that would be any help if he wasn't home in the first place. "Goddammit, why can't you just work a normal job."
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constellaris-a · 2 years
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   If anyone needs her,  she’s going out to the training field and spending some time simply destroying training dummies.  Approach at your own risk.
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atvrvxia · 1 year
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&. @racylove for karl hohenzollern ( 4 / 6 )
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"I THOUGHT i told you to leave me alone."
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xbeautifulmonsters3 · 2 years
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@moonxshadowx​ Tatiana to Fenris
She walked into the crypt, letting out a sigh as she stepped over a puddle of blood. “I think Vlad should’ve spent more time with you, Fenris,” there was a small click of her tongue, “And why exactly do you insist on living like this?” She looked around them. Considering who she was as a human, this wasn’t exactly a setting she cared much for. “One of these days,  мой дорогой*, I’m going to show you how to live,” she looked away from him and at the mess he had clearly recently made. 
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recklesseeker-x · 2 years
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Starter from Luna to Tatiana - @xbeautifulmonsters​
                                    “Come onnnn.” she quite literally begged in the most annoying voice she could possibly muster, the younger vampire out of the pair prancing around Tatiana to portray just how persistent she really was. “I just want to pretend to be a princess.” Yes, this was all about trying on a bunch of Tatiana’s things from her Princess era, Luna having several moments in her life where she simply wanted to play dress up with Tati’s things. 
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ech03s · 1 month
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open: w / nb | loosly based off the vow. tatiana lost their memory in an incident and forgot the past few years including when our muses started dating (or even got married). she comes from a wealthy family and doesn't believe she's a musician now who's cut them off monetarily.
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"i'm sorry, i just don't know who this person you're talking about is!" reality still hasn't sunk in. even with the transfer to from the hospital to her, so-called, home. it's vastly different than what she's used to. she was used to luxury and having to do stupid things like social gatherings with friends of her parents and brother. trips with her family to random countries to secure business deals. the idea of settling down seemed unbelievable.
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favcritecriime · 5 months
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OPEN TO: anyone
MUSE: Tatiana Romero
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"This whole industry runs on absent fathers. - It’s the natural order."
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waywardsculs · 28 days
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Soft mrrph as she just stretches out.
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honeyedblossom · 1 year
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closed starter for @prcttyvxnom ( jakub )
"You didn't tell me," Tatiana blurted out as she opened the door, holding up a magazine with Jakub on the cover before flipping to the article. "This is incredible, Jay! Also, who is this special lady they're talking about? You're not keeping someone from us, are you?"
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shyybzikx · 2 years
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TATIANA STARTER CALL
Let me know if there’s a specific verse or anything you’d like in the comments
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constellaris-a · 2 years
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   Pouts.  Making noises for attention.
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fimproda · 9 months
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Night-blooming Jasmine
@gracetopher-week
Day 3, Fic Day
Rated R, still unfinished, set in the The Last Flowers universe after Chrisanthemum
The point is, Grace doesn’t actually know how to have sex.
Giving her history, she should. She really should. But she’s never been an active participant: in the past, with her... clients―she has to stop calling them that―she just... lay there, closed her eyes, and thought of England. Occasionally, which meant nine times out of ten, she also suffered like a dog.
Nothing more.
By now, though, she’s come to understand that her firsthand knowledge of sex has nothing to do with how sex is usually experienced; even less, with how sex should be experienced. She was too young, for starters, which is something Cecily, and Cordelia, and Anna, and everyone worth their salt never seem to stop blabbering about; moreover, she’s been sold, trafficked, stripped of her every right. She’s never had a choice.
And, maybe most importantly, she’s never truly wanted it.
Well, not until this moment, at least.
She wants it. She does, she really does, she’s ready to swear it on the Angel if need be.
She’s just not sure what she wants, exactly.
Which is why they’ve ended up here. She and Kit, that is. Sprawled on the bed in her room at the Institute, laying on their sides, kissing.
The kissing is... good. Nice. They’ve done it before, of course; as a matter of fact, they’ve never done more than that. It’s been a couple of months since Kit kissed her for the first time, and that was a good ten days after her trial, when she’d been cleared of all involvement with the whole Belial-and-Tatiana-related mess and could finally start making her peace with it―start making her amends to those she’d hurt, either willingly or not.
Kit liking her, kissing her, opening his heart up to her, hasn’t been much of a surprise.
Everything that’s happened since...
Yeah.
She should stop overthinking it. She should just do what Kit told her to, last week, and get this over with already.
Problem is, that’s a thing she has no idea how to do. To tell the truth, it’s the very reason why they’re on this bed and Kit’s hand is slowly, so slowly, making its way between her legs.
Listen...
She tried, alright?
If anything, she knows what it’s supposed to feel like. It isn’t as though she’s never come before: statistically speaking, it just had to happen, sooner or later. Mere physical stimulation can, and sometimes will, be enough. And some of her cl―abusers prided themselves on being able to bring their women to orgasm, and had a penchant for rubbing her like they were hacking at a particularly persistent stain on their fancy church clothes.
So, she has experienced climax.
And she’s never failed to hate herself for it.
She’s perfectly aware that that’s the problem. And, as she’s told Kit half an hour ago, the only solution is for him to―quite literally, as it turns out―take the matter into his own hands.
She knows he’s an overthinker, just like her. She knows there’s a fat chance neither of them is going to get anything out of this. But she’s used to yielding control, she’s done it all her life, and she isn’t―yet―able to function in any other way.
The silver lining is that Kit has already had her remove her undergarments, which is a step further than where she’s taken this when she made her failed attempt. She’s still got her dress on: he doesn’t want her to be naked in front of him, not when it could be uncomfortable for her. Besides, with the fire having wilted down to embers hours ago, the room is chilly.
The goosebumps starting to show on her skin have nothing to do with the chill.
Kit’s lips are a kiss away from hers. His eyes are half-closed, as though he’s squinting to be able to look at her. (He doesn’t have his glasses on; she removed them as soon as he came into her room. But he’s near-sighted, so his vision should be good).
He’s staring at his hand on her inner thigh, she realizes. She’s willing to bet he’s as tense as she is over what they are about to do. What he is about to do.
“Kit,” she whispers, not even knowing why she spoke in the first place. Maybe it’s because she wants to reassure him. Or maybe it’s because she wants to reassure herself.
“Grace,” Kit echoes, the tips of his fingers drawing circles on her skin, his free arm sliding underneath the pillow on which both their heads are resting. “What do you want me to do to you?”
She lets out another, “Kit,” and it’s halfway between a scoff and a plea. “If I knew that, I would have succeeded in doing this myself.”
They make eye contact. Kit’s pupils are dilated, the violet of his irises reduced to little more than a ring around ever-growing black. He wets his lips, opens his mouth, inhales... and stays silent.
He’s at a loss for words.
Her third, “Kit,” is barely a breath. Soft. Acknowledging his worry, his unease, his feeling of being inadequate. “Whatever you do, I’m going to like it.”
She wants to eat her words the very second they leave her mouth. It was the wrong thing to say.
And indeed, a shadow falling on his handsome, boyish face, Kit replies, “How can you be so sure?”
“Kit.” She can’t get enough of saying his name, tonight. It grounds her, reminds her of who she’s with. “I chose this. I chose you.”
The title, Night-blooming Jasmine, refers to a work of the same name by Italian poet Giovanni Pascoli, which you can find here in the original Italian and a pretty good English translation. Pascoli wrote it for the wedding of a good friend of his, and it's obvious from the text that the poet thinks of sex as something violent, not gentle, something that crushes the petals of the flower ("si chiudono i petali un poco gualciti").
My co-author @zoyalannister learned to hate this poem in school (it's taught, at the very least, during the last year of high school), but I think it's a perfect metaphor for Grace's past and her journey in The Last Flowers.
Come check out the series if you hate yourself and want to suffer!
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xbeautifulmonsters3 · 2 years
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@recklesseeker-x​ Tatiana to Vlad
“I think we should go to the burlesque club tonight,” the vampire spoke from her position on the daybed next to his chair, “I’ve wanted one of those dancers since the masquerade.” Of course, it was the heart of werewolf territory, guarded by werewolves and mostly staffed by them too. Even if the Gray wasn’t there, one of his dancers was a beta. It would be quite the delicate thing to hunt there, which made it sound all the more fun. While she didn’t wish to vex her dear, beloved alpha - hunting in vampire territory was just far too easy most of the time. “But if you don’t wish to join me, I could always call on Luna,” she turned to him with a small smirk starting to grow on her lips, “She’s been dying to take your sweet, little Freya out.”
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