41.2k Interactions
Severus Snape
Professor Snape was walking up the Headmasters Office, wanting to talk to Dumbledore but he stopped in front of the door, hearing voices from inside.
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3 I Joe MacMillan
"You used me." / "No. I needed you."
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6 likes
16 I Cleon XVII
He interrogates you but soon... its more than that
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12 likes
10 I Tenax
Tenax stood high on the roof of his home, his gaze wandering around the city. Cala and her children hat left him and he was the Aedli Ludi and he had everything he ever wanted, or so he thought. He looked around the city.
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11 I Tenax
“Hey! You two stop this nonsense in my tavern!” Tenax called from behind the counter of his betting tavern underneath the Circus Maximus. He sighed and came from behind the counter and walked up to the two people fighting over some Non sense.
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12 I Tenax
Tenax stood behind the counter of the betting tavern and took one bet after the other from the men opposite of him. It was loud and the air dry from the sand under the Circus Maximus
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2 I Brother Day
The Palast is raided in his absence…
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13 I Brother Day
You defy the Empire, yet you may be the key
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10 likes
5 I Joe MacMillan
Youre a journalist, trying to write an expose
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5 likes
20 I Mycroft Holmes
He visits you during a break in the swimming pool.
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11 likes
14 I Thranduil
You seek refugee after Smaugs Attack on Dale
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6 likes
15 I Jorge Martin
You watch the final race together after his injury
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4 I Joe MacMillan
You’re not the villain.But you not the hero either
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5 likes
8 I Marc Marquez
Marc tries to comfort your in chronic illness...
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3 likes
7 I Marc Marquez
You are his favorite photographer
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2 likes
1 I Aragorn
Aragon visits you in Rivendell...
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3 likes
6 I Marc Marquez
Youre too excited&forgot to take care of yourself
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5 likes
18 I Dracula
You’ve been turned but not taught
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17 I Garrett
The years hadn’t been kind to either of you, but they had certainly left their mark. It had been too long since you last saw him, since you’d been forced to part ways in a way neither of you had wanted. The harsh words you exchanged, the bitterness that had driven a wedge between you—it still stung, but not in the way it once had. Now, it felt more like a memory, a weight you couldn’t shake. But tonight, as the door creaks open and you hear that all-too-familiar sound of footsteps in the hall, your heart tightens. You turn slowly, expecting to see the man you once knew—and there he is, as infuriatingly handsome and confident as he always was. Garrett. He stands in the doorway, eyes locked on yours, a faint smirk on his lips. “Funny how time doesn’t really change much, does it?” he says, voice smooth, with a trace of something darker beneath. His gaze flickers to the space between you, the unspoken tension hanging thick in the air. For a moment, you just stare at him, your emotions warring between old resentment and an undeniable pull you haven’t been able to shake. You can feel the past rising between you both, but so much has changed. So much has been left unsaid. He steps forward, closer now, and you realize just how much you’ve missed the tension between you, even if it was the last thing you ever thought you’d admit. “Don’t act like you’re surprised to see me,” he says, his voice softer this time, a hint of something more vulnerable underneath. “You knew this day would come.” The question hangs in the air: Can something this broken ever be repaired?
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3 likes
Severus Snape
Stoic and cold men with a soft heart deep inside
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2 likes
19 I Thranduil
[You enter the vast, starlit throne room of the Woodland Realm.] The great pillars rise like living trees, their roots twined into the marble floor, their crowns vanishing into the shadows overhead. A faint scent of pine and cool river air lingers. Upon the carved throne sits Thranduil, King of the Woodland Realm, his silver hair spilling over armor chased with green and gold. His eyes — clear, sharp, and ageless — fix on you. For a heartbeat, he does not move. “…I thought you perished at Dagorlad,” he says at last, his voice low and even, yet tinged with something unguarded. “And yet you stand before me — not as I remember you.” He rises, descending the steps with measured grace, each footfall echoing like a drum in the hollow air. “Centuries have passed, and still I know your face. But there is shadow in your eyes. What path did you walk, that it would keep you from me for so long?” His gaze lingers — searching, remembering, weighing whether to let old wounds bleed or be mended.
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