#but i cannot seem to figure out how to draw water

[anxiescape]

This page has been, like, 90% done for months now. I just didn't feel like finishing the hair highlights. 😓

But it's done now!! Hooray!! (btw my shading technique has changed since the previous page, so that's why it looks so different now...)

I dunno if Iron Fan in the first panel is gonna cause anyone any issues, but I'll add a suggestive tag just in case. Lemme know if it should be tagged anything else plz!

Page 3/3 (dunno if there'll be a page 4... we'll see.)

Previous: Page 2

[nanawritesit]

Irene Girlfriend Headcanons!

She prefers that you call her “Joohyun” rather than Irene. She wants to feel like you know the real her instead of her stage presence.

Speaking of which, she often slips into her Daegu dialect around you

You were never intimidated by her like everyone else was, you were warm and loving regardless of how “scary” she seemed

It took her a while to open up to you about her inner thoughts and feelings. She’s so used to bottling it all up in order to be a good leader that she doesn’t stop to think when she might need help

But you help her with that, constantly reassuring every single one of her insecurities. Even when she doesn’t ask, you’ll always be the first one to tell her she’s done well!

She cooks you seaweed soup every year for your birthday just like she does for the members 💚

Ordering her tea for her whenever you’re at a coffee shop because she’s too afraid of being judged by the barista for not liking coffee

Eating her vegetables for her (if you like them ofc)

Finally convincing her to stop dying her hair and stick with her natural black color because it’s her favorite and it suits her best

It took her a long time to accept it, but Joohyun is a lover of the simple things in life. You guys don’t need any extravagant outings or fancy gifts to be happy! Things like reading together, watching the sunset, taking walks, listening to music, cooking her favorite tteokbokki… those are what draw you together.

Holding her while she cries watching “The Notebook”

You started keeping perfumes in your car and carrying essential oils with you everywhere since she’s so sensitive to smells

You also help bring her back down to Earth when she starts spacing out, waving a hand in front of her face and never making a huge fuss over it. You just remind her what she was talking about and continue on with your conversation

Joohyun is also a lover of solitude. However you’re the only one she makes an exception for. She loves taking you to Ttukseom Island or the Folk Museum in Bukcheon. They’re her happy places and she wants to share them with you!

Because of her, you started keeping a journal. The two of you have nights where you just sit in silence and write together 🥰

She won’t hesitate to correct you on your spelling and grammar, even over text 😑

You feel like you learn something new about her every day. She’s always so reserved, and her mind runs at a mile a minute, so every once in a while she’ll just drop this huge piece of Joohyun lore that takes you by surprise

Always giving her your fortune cookies and lottery tickets because she just has so much good luck

If you play video games or do puzzles, and you just can’t get pass a certain stage, she’ll just walk over and figure it out for you in seconds, and it leaves you baffled every time

Making her show you how the heck she can draw a perfect circle (you still can’t understand after a thousand times)

She has a tendency to “mother” you. (Doing your laundry, making you go to bed early, telling you take your vitamins and drink water…) You’ll have to explain to her that while you appreciate her trying to help, she doesn’t need to worry about you so much!

She’s still going to do your laundry though. She just loves doing it too much not to.

I hope you don’t mind having a high heat bill, because Joohyun cannot handle the cold! (If not, you’ll have to loan her several of your hoodies and blankets!)

Comforting her whenever she encounters heights, water, or loud noises

Her manager tried to tell her to avoid PDA with you to protect her image and avoid a scandal, but she just can’t stop herself from holding your hand or clinging to your arm!

Once word gets out that the two of you are dating, she really has no problem telling the fans that while she hopes they can be supportive, she’s going to be with you whether they like it or not.

She would give up everything if it meant she could stay with you, and you would do the same for her in a heartbeat 💜

[yuurei20]

Trey Info Compilation part 17: Rook

Rook refers to Trey as “Chevalier des Roses,” but this nickname apparently did not appear until their second year when Riddle enrolled at NRC, as, “One must have a roi—a king—to be a chevalier, or a knight.”

Trey does not like this nickname and often asks Rook to stop using it, which Rook tends to ignore.

Rook seems very fond of Trey (“All Rook did was sing praises about your smooth workflow,” says a Science club student), and when Sebek calls Rook creepy for bursting into song during Spectral Soiree Trey explains, “The random singing isn’t all that uncommon, actually. He does that sometimes during club meetings.”

When Sebek prepares to attack Rook for being suspiciously calm Trey defends Rook, explaining “Okay, sure, Rook’s a little weird. It’s hard to tell what he’s thinking, and sometimes he does that thing where he looks at the sky and smiles…but he’s not a bad guy.”

Rook wins Sebek over by telling a story ostensibly from his childhood, which Trey does not believe saying, “You just can’t get enough of these elaborate jokes, can you?…Just don’t go overboard with our remarkably gullible freshman, okay?”

When Sebek tries to pressure Rook into sharing personal stories from his childhood Trey comes to Rook’s rescue, pretending to see a ghost behind a pillar.

Trey explains, “I just figured you wouldn’t want people prying into your private life. I’ve noticed you tend to steer clear of that kind of stuff when we talk at club meetings. But I’m sorry if I read too much into it and overstepped.”

Ever sensitive to embarrassing situations, in a science club-based vignette, Trey asks Rook to not talk to the plants while they’re watering them, saying, “you are your eccentricities.”

Rook gives Trey “a fancy feathered cap” for his birthday, but Trey cannot figure out what he is supposed to wear it with.

Trey says Rook roped him into researching classic vampire moves for Halloween, but while he pretended to be scared, Rook was not convinced.

Trey says that if he had to pick someone to take with him to a deserted island, it would be Rook.

During Beanfest Rook gives a long monologue about how it was that he knew where to wait out in order to meet with Trey, explaining, “You strive to achieve exceptional marks in any situation that could reflect upon your dorm and its housewarden, the Roi de Roses. Moreso in exams or extracurriculars—any occasion with discernible outcomes for all dorms involved. But you don’t like drawing attention to yourself…You weren’t likely to take an aggressive stance. You are not a proactive man when it comes to events such as the one we find ourselves in today…and indeed, the Trey Clover I know wouldn’t go out of his way to seek out and and farmers for a chance in the spotlight...you would hunker down in territory familiar to you, behind natural fortifications, and wait out the enemy for a spell.”

When looking for people amongst the school third-year students that he thinks are the most approachable, Trey chooses Rook and Vil.

After Rook gives a dramatic description of his plans for post-NRC, Trey responds without acknowledging the curious way in which Rook expresses himself. Cater observes, "Rook's hype didn't even faze you at all" and Trey explains, "I'm used to it."

[troxlerfx]

hello!! i am troxler (trox if you're nasty) and you might know me from my xwitter @ broadcastrelay or my old experimental art blog @hand-in-hand-again .

i have a throne account here if you'd like to support my work by helping with supplies & thereby earn my eternal gratitude:

commissions are currently closed & i will update here & on xwitter if that changes!!

i do have discord if you'd like to chat, you can DM me for my username. i'm vision impaired & it's a little easier for me than tumblr DMs (scalable font. properly mapped keyboard that allows me to hit the right keys occasionally. you know 👁️)

i am sometimes slow to respond to messages, but i don't expect you to be available all the time either--i answer things when i have a moment, & i assume others do too ✌️ i have the temperament of a displaced 11th century anchorite, am simply not adapted to the tone & pace of centralized social media.

i also unfortunately cannot voice call or stream/screen share because i am a millennial (just kidding, it's because my phone is almost 9 years old & it overheats when i check my e-mail)

learn a bit more about me under the cut ✂️

i was dropped into this simulation in the early 80s, i'm a disabled artist (vision impaired - [ask me about my atrophied optic nerves] - & have some other physical Issues so i use a cane) & my wife and i host two black cats, roughly 35% of a mannequin, and a whole lot of dolls.

all my art is trad/physical media (haven't figured out a way to make digital art accessible yet. maybe someday!!) i like to sculpt in epoxy, plastilene, polymer & stone clay, i like to mold & cast in resin, make & customize various types of dolls, & build puppets; i do custom framed work, mixed media & textile stuff like sewing & embroidery; i paint in oil, acrylic, watercolor, gouache & water soluble graphite & i love ink, markers, crayons & whatever cheap & weird stuff i can get my hands on.

i have a particular affection for props, prop replicas & hypothetical in-universe items, & i like things that are handsome, durable & believable. i'm versatile & innovative, & i'm at my happiest when i'm exploring technical processes. i have quite a bit of knowledge about techniques & materials. i love a challenge!! currently all my sewing is done by hand, i have trouble controlling pedal-operated machines.

my favorite thing is horror coated in a fine layer of nostalgia & sprinkled with history. that seems highly specific, but you'd be surprised how many things fit the criteria. i tend to fixate on characters & concepts & do a lot of art about it - a habit i developed while i was re-teaching myself to draw after the changes to my eyesight. my output is largely therapeutic. sometimes people like it. maybe you will too!!

a good amount of my work is fanart & will be tagged as such/otherwise linked to the appropriate project, original work will be specified & have its own tag.

at the moment i make a lot of work related to the independent psychological horror unfiction project Welcome Home, created by ' partycoffin ' here on tumblr.

i have a more reblog-heavy sideblog, @heartshapedsignal , where i can place aesthetics, rb art that i like, Cronenbergpost & generally toss up more intense horror things & keep this one somewhat more tidy + personal-art-oriented. follow if you please; although it's unlikely i'll ever post anything too explicit, 🔞 just to be safe!!

that's all for now!! 👁️‍🗨️📺

[trouble-clef]

Maybe i'm just too old now, but i cannot get myself to actually like this PJO show. Here's why. Feel free to disagree, these are just my thoughts.

The dialogue is not doing it for me. I know much of it is ripped straight from the book's pages, but while I love to read it, watching someone perform it just...it feels wooden.

While I love moments of all the characters, the only actor that's consistently selling it for me is Aryan Simhadri (Grover). Charlie Bushnell as Luke is a close second when he's not expositing the hell out of things. Walker and Leah are both just...really wooden and one note for me. They're kids, I know. I feel like they could really grow into these roles, but right now...yeesh. It's not awful, just not compelling. I was crazy excited for Leah Jeffries in particular, too!

Nothing about this show feels grand or epic. The minotaur fight was pretty underwhelming. There have been 3 fights: Fury, minotaur, Medusa. Percy defeated the Fury accidentally in about 20 seconds. Medusa walked around threateningly for 3 minutes before getting beheaded (although I did love the massive basement cave of statues! That made her seem a bit scary, actually). Minotaur was. Fine. The kids sit on a bus, run away from a Fury that doesn't actually seem to be chasing them (they look like they're taking a leisurely hike and we never actually see them running away), and after a not-fight, behead Medusa and then petrify Alecto (we see this from afar, for some reason? I know it's meant to represent Annabeth watching, but nothing about the shot communicates anything about how she might feel about what she's seeing).

I know they only have the 8 episodes but if any show deserves that old 22-26 episode run it's this one. Despite how fast paced the books are, we still get time to sit with the characters. There are 9 and a half chapters out of this 22 chapter book where we get to know Percy and the rest of the characters before embarking on this epic, death defying adventure with them. I don't feel like I know the show's Percy at all. He's boring. What makes show Percy a character? Who is he? The answer can be different from the book but it can't be nothing. Same with Annabeth. It's implied that she's this whip smart talented strategist and the most experienced camper, but I'm shown pretty much none of that. I, as a fan, know that Annabeth was using Percy as bait in capture the flag, but I feel like someone new to the franchise wouldn't get that.

The show spoon feeds everything to the viewer. In the books, Medusa is a mystery for a bit. They figure it out slowly. They almost get caught in her trap. Here, oh! It's Medusa, but be careful because Alecto is outside! I've not actually seen why Alecto is so dangerous. Percy accidentally stabbed Dodds the first time, so she was barely a threat then (compared to the books where it was an actual fight). The Furies have attacked maybe once and one of them got blown up in a way that basically registered as an accident. Alecto doesn't get a chance to show she's a threat before Medusa shows up to save them. Save them from the Fury we didn't get to see chasing them.

The show is Unfunny. Not just not funny, Unfunny. The books were filled with humor, and the tone of Percy's inner dialogue was often comedic in the less serious parts. Grover is really carrying the humor of the show on his back. (The Dionysus dad scene was funny, though, but I'm letting out a chuckle every like...hour at most here).

Now, about future things to come/being set up:

-Percy is supposed to be a good fighter generally, but he also draws power from water specifically. This is important when he fights Ares on the beach (which we know is coming and I'm praying will be epic). This is established during the capture the flag fight in the books but not here. We have seen approximately 0 fights since that point and if the show keeps going, we won't see any, so when will this get established?

-Luke is supposed to be disarmingly awesome in the book so as to make the betrayal all the more shocking. Again, where those first 9 chapters come in. I don't think we've seen enough of him to make it hurt like it should. (Again, really like Charlie as Luke, just we aren't seeing enough of him)

-so...Gabe is goofy now. Which on the one hand I really like, but on the other it doesn't feel like he'll deserve the petrification at the end. He's not terrible and abusive, just lazy and a little irritating. (Nice touch making him the prophecy though, made me chuckle)

Things i like so this isn't a total Debbie Downer:

-peter johnson

-"he knows your name." "Does he, though?"

-"can you please tell them to put the hot peppers on my sandwich"

-Dionysus the "i'm totally your dad" wine god

-not even seeing a hint of non-exiled Olympians until the end of episode 3 (makes them feel like the distant immortal beings that they are)

-Lin Manuel Miranda jumpscare

-Blackjack!

-camp halfblood. Looks awesome, appropriately massive and epic.

-wheelchair user camp counselor (love me some disability rep)

-grover is an adorable delight

-medusa is Soooooooo pretty

[wordsinhaled]

the opposite of blindness

“A man moves through time. It means nothing except that, like a harpoon, once thrown he will arrive.” 

— Anne Carson, Autobiography of Red 

i. peirázō (to test, tempt)

hob gadling dreams of a leaden sky, and the dark-watered sea stretched out under it, and in the sea a siren.

the siren-figure floats on his back, wraithlike, just beneath the surface. hob can barely make him out and yet he is all hob can see: eyes deep and black as the cosmos dotted with stars, wild hair drifting in the current like so many tendrils of seaweed, a phosphorescent constellation spreading between his palms. 

desire is sudden in hob, and visceral. oh, to pick his way down the cliffside and give himself over to the waves. oh, to know the strength of those pale arms, the suffocating kiss from that sardonic mouth. to drown and drown, as he surely would. 

“who are you?” hob shouts into the moonless night.

he hears “you know who i am” carried to him on the crash of the surf against the promontory, whispered to him in gull-shrieks and in the gusting gale. 

hob does not think he knows.  

he wakes with brackish tears drying on his cheeks, and at the edges of his consciousness he feels a revelation, but it slips away before he can grasp it.

ii. pothéō (to long, yearn)

hob is lost in a twilit dream-forest. 

the dense, moldering leaf litter muffles his footfalls and obscures the paths he has already walked. how long has he wandered here, buffeted by an ill wind, imagining malevolent faces in the shadows of the trees? 

in the next moment, hob stumbles upon a clearing, sun-drenched and warm, and in the clearing is a hut. hob peers at the smoke that curls lazily up from the chimney; at the black-cloaked man who sits on the stoop, whittling a raven from a small block of cedar. 

he seems to absorb some of the sunlight into himself, as though clothed in an absence of reality, and refracts the rest into tiny rainbows that dance about his person like day-lit fireflies. when he puts down his craft to push back the hood of his cloak, hob is surprised to see the man is younger than he appeared, and pallid as marble, and there are twin points of starlight glimmering in his eyes. 

“i’ve seen you before,” hob says to him, on the verge of realization. “where have i seen you?” but the man dignifies hob’s question only by rising on soundless bare feet to disappear inside the hut, leaving the door slightly ajar.

“join me if you wish,” he calls, and hob feels overfull with longing. 

with the feeling comes an odd presentiment: hob sees, abruptly, how days will pass as seconds within the hut. how he will have his fill of wine and sweetmeats and blessed cool water. how this radiant stranger will draw him down to lie tangled together on the rush mats spread before the hearth. how hob might never leave, even as the nights grow long, even as wind and rain and time ravage the world beyond this place. he sees, and knows he could spend many lifetimes here, happily.

hob turns and goes the way he arrived, nostrils full of the scent of wildflowers and woodsmoke.

when he wakes, a carving of a raven rests on the pillow next to his head. hob cannot remember what he learned in his dream, but his heart aches for a fortnight nonetheless.

iii. titrṓskō (to wound)

this night, hob dreams of a war, great and terrible. 

it is an amalgam of all the battles he has ever fought, some that came before his time, and more yet to be fought in unwritten futures. people from all the eras of the world kill and die and mourn their dead around him, in a gruesome jumble of chariots and tanks and spears and gunfire and lasers—all the myriad ways humanity has invented to destroy itself. 

hob is bone-tired, blood-drenched. he is carrying a sword. 

he wades through an ocean of the fallen to reach the silhouette that beckons from the crest of the next hill, shrouded in smoke and fire. 

the man wears a hoplite’s armor, his helm’s burnished lustre now dulled with soot and dust. the image of a crow blazoned on his shield seems to shift its wings, almost alive—a trick played by the acrid smog. the pinpricks of light in his eyes gleam white as death-shrouds.

hob lays his xiphos at the man’s feet. watches him pick it up, heft it solemnly in his elegant hands.

“you again,” hob says. “what is it you’re trying to tell me?”

“one day, this pain will be useful to you,” says the man, in a voice that quakes the earth.  

then he runs hob through with his own blade. 

iv. elpízō (to hope) 

hob crosses a bustling square on market day. 

he finds the rickety table and two empty chairs languishing outside a defunct tavern. across the weathered boards shuttering one tavern window, someone has etched the reminder of a memory: 

hic fiumus cari duo nos sine fine sodales. we two dear men, friends forever, were here. 

hob sits; the chair is comfortable. he waits. in this dream, hob’s soul feels formed in the shape of patience.

bright noon sun bakes the cobblestones and heats the air, turning it thick with the smell of briny olives, ripe fruit, fresh fish. impossible to dwell on death’s coppery tang or grief’s grim weight, here. he knows a kind of immediacy, as he lets the din of the crowd knit him whole. 

a man claims the chair opposite him, noiseless, stately-postured. his robes are black as pitch and hemmed in flame; within his eyes he holds an entire glowing universe. 

“well met, rovertus,” he says, smiling. 

that name—known and unknown, worn and unworn, his and not his—jostles hob, nudges at something long-asleep in his spirit. he sees, suddenly, the long path ahead and behind, all the life-lengths spent and not-spent with this stranger who is no stranger at all. surely they have walked already arm in arm through endless fields of aconites; even now they make love on a wave-scourged beach; and will they not someday rally and perish side by side on a thousand battlefields, only to rise again?

“well met,” hob says, “my love, my life, oneiros.” 

“i bring you the favor of the gods,” oneiros tells him. “they would grant you a gift. a few threads of their raiment, if you will but wear it.” 

it is hob’s turn to smile, wistful. “you always do speak in riddles.” 

“drink with me, should you accept,” says starry-eyed oneiros, soft, “and your dearest wish shall be yours.” two vessels that were not there before rest on the little table between them, brimming with golden mead.

“my only wish is simple,” hob says.

he drinks down to the dregs, and wakes, and lives—the taste of honey ever on his tongue.

———

notes: 

i have STARED AT THIS TOO LONG so i’m calling it finished. i really thought dream and hob deserved to be mythologized a little bit so... mythology-inspired dreamling fic! *yells incoherently* this all started because i was thinking about morpheus in greco-roman mythology, appearing to kings and heroes in dreams... and then... it just got away from me and became a shameless excuse to mash a ton of tropes from myth together at once, to be emotionally compromised by anne carson, and to probably misuse ancient greek a fair bit (i only took one classics course in college which was enough for it to be Formative To My Personality but not helpful in this case for ancient greek or latin lmao, classics side of tumblr please go easy on me)

morpheus’ line in part iii paraphrases “Be patient and tough; someday this pain will be useful to you” from ovid’s metamorphoses 

the graffiti in part iv is part of some graffiti discovered in a thermopolium in pompeii. 

Hic fiumus cari duo nos sine fine sodales nomina si [quaeris Caius et Aulus erant] [CIL 04 8162] (“We two dear men, friends forever, were here. If you want to know our names, they are Gaius and Aulus”)

*title also from Autobiography of Red, talking about the moment of falling in love— “...there it was one of those moments that is the opposite of blindness. The world poured back and forth between their eyes once or twice.”

[iznsfw]

Your Chaeyeon smuts are so good. Please post more if you can!

Spectacles

IZ Days of Christmas: Day 5 - Lee Chaeyeon

IZ*ONE's Lee Chaeyeon x Male Reader Smut

2568 words

Categories: girlfriend!Chaeyeon, date night, blowjob, deepthroat, facial, Chaeyeon looks so good in those glasses AAAAA

For @brokennightmares01, one of the best writers out there and my first collaborator <3 All his fics are so good and deserve all the love out there! Love you, man!

It's been a while since the waiter left to deliver your orders for this date night to the kitchen. Probably thirty or thirty-five minutes max. And the only thing keeping you patient is Chaeyeon, who looks extra pretty today, even for you, the guy who gets to wake up and see her beside you in bed everyday. She just looks so gorgeous, so damning pretty that she seems like the kind of girl that you'd take home to your mother and keep a secret due to.... frisky sessions in between visits and a wildness your conservative and reserved parents cannot handle.

Maybe it's because she's just so charming. She draws you in and keeps you hooked, and tests the waters with her free laugh. But, if anything, it's her laugh that made her for keeps. You like how she isn't like other people who tried to modify their chuckles just to seem attractive. Nothing against them, of course. Everyone can do anything and anyone. But it's just so much more satisfying meeting someone like Chaeyeon—or, much better, is Chaeyeon—who doesn't hold back or hide anything. With you, she can be herself, and vice versa. That's the definite reason as to why you like her so much.

As you rant in your head about her beauty, Chaeyeon looks at you with a laugh at the ends of her eyes. She finally lets it out, breaking into a fulk and beautiful smile, raising her brows as she offers you a rhetorical question that you'd answer anyway: "What, are you, like, that in love with me or something?"

You shrug with the same casual arrogance. Two can play this game. "Probably."

Chaeyeon interlocks her fingers and rests her chin on top of their formed flat, smiling at you again. "It's the glasses, isn't it?" she asks, semi-seriously this time.

Not a rhetorical question anymore. There's a knowing certainty in that grin of hers. She has finally figured you out. Nothing you can do about it now. Sigh and raise your hands in the air. "You got me."

"Ha! I knew it! You were looking at me weird the whole time since I put them on. It's like you wanted to fuck me in front of everyone."

She is... well, sort of right. Chaeyeon, besides having a gorgeous face, has a body to die for, so the 24/7 horniness allegation she holds against you is partially true. Her toned torso and legs have you salivating more than any meal in this expensive restaurant. But surprisingly, it's not her body that was the cause of your staring; like she found out, it's mostly the glasses. The round black-rimmed spectacles that sit formally on her nose and taunt you degradingly. Yeah, you like seeing your girlfriend look like a stereotypical book nerd, huh? Fucking pervert.

"Fine, okay. I have a thing for girls in glasses. The nerdy ones, the dorky ones... that sort of girl. Which is why I was a little shocked when I fell in love with you, and you didn't have them at first."

"So, basically, me being visually impaired and having astigmatism make me ten times hotter? And—oh, thank you." Chaeyeon thanks the waiter who has finally returned with your food and gives him your split check, before resuming her playful expression.

You nod, a little sheepishly. You aren't used to talking about your kinks so publicly, although the words you carefully chose and wove together didn't make it seem sexual, the polar opposite of Chaeyeon's choice. But you cannot help what you feel: so worked up just because of your girlfriend merely existing with those stupid frames.

"There's food now, oppa," Chaeyeon says. She gestures simply to the heaping bowls of rice, gravy, fish and chicken on the table. There is even a small cake between the two of you. Their mixed delicious scents make you even hungrier. "Eat it all up."

"Oh, I would. If I'm guaranteed a dessert."

Chaeyeon swipes her finger on the icing and places it in her mouth. Bite your lip to try and keep yourself together, but what she says doesn't help at all:

"Oh, it depends. Do you want dessert to come early?"

Your shoulders shudder slightly. "Kind of," you say.

Chaeyeon considers this and seemingly weighs her options. But in the end, she shrugs in a way that is similar to your earlier shudder and eats her meal. You are a little disappointed, but sex is not what you are here for. You are here to celebrate your third anniversary with Chaeyeon. Nothing will take you away from focusing on having a cuddly and happy evening.

The two of you eat the meal happily. You talk about the funny stories at work while Chaeyeon responds to each with a hilarious laugh. Meanwhile, she relays to you her dance practices and the moves she learns for each. There's Hype Boy by a new rookie girl group, Newjeans, and Fiction. Chaeyeon is a passionate dancer; it is her greatest talent, besides her singing.

In the middle of eating, she suddenly gets up. "I need to use the bathroom. You coming?"

"Sure, no problem. Wait." You stop, making Chaeyeon stop, too. "Is it a separate bathroom here?"

"What do you mean?" Chaeyeon is a little irritated now. Her impatience shows a lot.

"I mean, is it a bathroom for both men and women or—?'"

"It's a bathroom for both. Come on."

You feel a little guilty now for holding off Chaeyeon's bathroom break. But you just want to make sure you aren't accused of being a peeping tom by going in with her anyway at the women's bathroom. Not that you'd be one, anyways. You may have your kinks, but being like... that is not one of them.

You go with Chaeyeon to the bathroom. It is a single room with plenty of stalls. There is even a shower stall on the other aisle, which makes you wonder: Who the hell takes their shower in a restaurant? Definitely not you. You do not even like bathing in fancy hotels. It just feels wrong.

It is probably a stall for the night shift workers who haven't showered yet, you tell yourself.

There is no one else inside the comfort room. Everybody else is too preoccupied with their expensive meal, so Chaeyeon opts for the family stall, which is significantly wider than the rest.

"Want me to wait outside?" you ask meekly.

Chaeyeon shakes her head. "No, you come in [with] me."

She grabs your wrist with a wild tug, effectively dragging you inside the stall with her. The lock slides into its latch and shows the customers who may enter the bathroom a red color, an indication that someone is using it. But not necessarily to relieve themselves like the normal way of using them.

Chaeyeon drops to her knees in front of you. You gasp audibly. "Chaen, what are you doing?"

"Shhh, giving you your dessert! You said you liked me in glasses, right?"

"Yeah," you say, confused.

"How much more would you like it if you can cum all over my face while I wear them?"

Chaeyeon states the words so casually that you almost ignore the explicit context. But seeing her on her knees, looking up at you with puppy eyes behind that damned pair of specs, you kind of wonder what your answer would be to her statement.

She grows impatient. She is as impatient as she is insatiable. "Let me help you find out, oppa, okay?"

She fishes out your cock, gives it a few beginning jerks, and licks its sensitive underside. Let out another gasp that is again caused by her. She smiles cutely, then kisses your girth with an open mouth. Her tongue slides over your stressed veins and tip.

You are already so weak. "C-Chaen," you stutter out vulnerably. That's a fallible action from your side. Now, Chaeyeon knows your answer even if you only say her name. She now knows what exactly to do to fire up your senses and fill it with her only. Her smirk is as wide as day.

But she stops pleasuring your cock by mouth for a moment. Replacing her tongue with her jerking hand, she leans closer and gives your heavy balls a strong lick. She laughs at your shudder, but continues on as if she hasn't noticed it. She sucks lightly on them, coating them with her saliva, and then proceeding to your base again.

From there, she sucks you like a lollipop she can never get enough of. Your tip already leaks with precum; she collects it in between her fingers and plays with it, looking fascinated by it before daintily licking her fingers of them to test their flavor. Seems to be delicious; she moans a little after she tastes it.

That is when she decides to drink the precum directly from the source. Chaeyeon's lips circle your tip, then, her tongue swipes up and down between your slit. In response, your hand involuntarily reaches for her head. Shove it all doen her throat in one go, which she seems to be unprepared for. Must be the reason for the strange tightness in her throat that only happens when she cums while you pound.

Which brings the question: is she touching herself? Look a little down and find your answer. She is! While she sucks lovingly on your head, she inserts her fingers in between her legs, which are taut under the tight pencil skirt. Fuck, she looks so hot, feeding on your tip and getting off from knowing you find her so pretty in this position. Chaeyeon is truly your girl.

"Naughty girl," you say with a mock tsk tsk of disapproval. Your voice sends an exciting chill down Chaeyeon's spine. She loves it when you talk to her in "that" voice, when you call her names during sex. "Were you planning this all along? The glasses and all?"

"Hm. Maybe." Chaeyeon takes half of your girth in one go. Her tongue rotates around the taken length seconds before she lets go again. She looks up at you now with her hands on her lap, looking like the most obedient girl ever. "You never knew how to erase your search history, or use incognito."

Your blood runs cold. "I—I don't know what you are talking about."

"Don't you now?" Chaeyeon lewdly bobs her head back and forth to accomodate your cock in swift, wet jerks. Her mouth lets out the warmest breaths, making your sensitive dick twitch in her mouth. "Don't worry, babe, I'm not mad. It's just that... you could have told me about your preferences a long time ago. You know you can tell me anything. You know you can tell me to do anything."

She fires you a flirtatious wink. You feel the sudden tightness that even your cock struggles to venture inside and you know she has deepthroated you. She is particularly skilled at that, with the way she lets your tip rub the back of her mouth and effortlessly takes you down her tight throat. The caress of her lips on your highly sensitive spots also shows that she knows what she is doing, and knows that what she is doing absolutely turns you on.

Moan a little as she deepthroats you again and again. There is minimal gagging from her end, but whenever she slips, her throat seizes your sword even tighter, making it a wonderful experience in any which way. "I'm sorry," you say. "I was too, fuck, shy to say it back then."

Close your eyes tight, but then remember that Chaeyeon is performing your sexual fantasies onto you right now, and choose to look down. Of course, you are not disappointed. She feigns an innocent and scared look in her large doe eyes, and sucks you off with a suction greater than any vacuum. Her mouth truly is a perfect cocksleeve, just as much as her pussy is.

Chaeyeon whimpers and squirms against her own fingers. They dip in and out of her silken core, stimulating her while she stimulates you. Her fingers must be pretty good if her cute, spankable ass backs into her hand just to feel the delicious entering of her digits.

But her mouth is just as good. You talk from experience; the suction of her lips feels amazing, combimed with her innocent doe-eyed look and the way her tongue laps you up like a treat. You are going to cum anytime soon.

"Chaeyeon," you say weakly. Breaths suddenly become hard to take as she increases her pleasuring of your dick. It is as if she wants to cover every bit of it with saliva, and due to that, each inch of your length is wet and sensitive. "I'm gonna cum."

Hearing this triggers her to remove her mouth from you. It's the last thing you want her to do, but at least she is giving you a frisky handjob. Her grip is a little too tight, squeezing a little too strongly, yet you enjoy it. You enjoy being jerked off by her.

"Cum on my face," Chaeyeon orders. "Don't be shy, I want all of it."

"Fffuck!"

Chaeyeon places her face closer to your cock and sticks out her tongue. It's just another deadly factor that adds to your violent orgasm.

Little of your semen lands on her tongue. Most go onto her face and glasses. But the look she gives you before you erupt—a slutty ahegao, a perfectly facial-worthy face—is the one that drives you the most crazy. The glasses are just the cherry on top.

WATCH HERE! Innocent nerd gets a facial in bathroom stall from boyfriend—So Hot! is the best title you can think of for this moment, as you take a mental snapshot and slip it into your heart forever: a messy, slutty Chaeyeon gazing up at you with ruined makeup and glasses, above a puddle of her own cum on the floor.

She swallows the cum she has gotten in her mouth languidly with a gulp. She can barely see now, but she knows you are just worked up as she is. "Happy anniversary, babe!" she tells you sweetly.

"Um, sir?"

There's a person directly outside of your stall. Judging by the formal black pants, you guess it is one of the waiters. Shit!

Try to be as casual as possible as you open the door. The waiter is met with the sight of a ruined Chaeyeon on the floor. "Yeah?"

"Um, I... no sex is allowed in the bathrooms," he says awkwardly. You can tell it is his first day. At the very least, he might be just another regular employee who is shocked at what he is hearing.

"Oh, we weren't having sex!" you lie. "I was trying to help her wipe off the birthday cake from her face. Her friends made a prank and got her like this."

"Oh." The waiter's face turns red. "Oh! I'm so sorry for assuming, forgive me."

"Nah, it's not a problem," chimes in Chaeyeon sweetly. "To be fair, I do kinda look like I got a facial."

The waiter hands you tissues to help Chaeyeon take off the "icing" from her face. After the two of you fix up, you continue eating your meal like nothing happened. It doesn't matter; there is more excitement awaiting you at home.

[lordsecondsenju]

The air was frigid in the Land of Fire, the wind whipped around long, dark hair. A gloved hand pushed the black hair out of his face, looking over the map that was in his other hand as he held back strands that whipped around his body. How could anyone want to be out here in this? Well, it wasn’t a choice for the man who was bundled up in three layers to try and maintain body heat. The fire nature chakra cycling through his body was helping minimally, but he was still chilly.

With a groan, Madara folded up the map and checked his surroundings as the wind died down for a moment. He was getting close to the last known location of the Three Tailed Beast. He’d been on the hunt for hours now, and it seemed like he was getting nowhere. That the signs of the tailed beast were fading faster than he could find them.

“Curse this stupid mission. The Daimyo had better pay up good for this one, sending me off into the cold to find this beast…” His voice carried and echoed through the forest as he walked. He shuddered at the echo, an eerie emptiness to the voice, as if something not human was taking his voice and twisting it. He had to physically shake that thought from his head.

As the day dragged on, Madara would find himself having to backtrack, turn around, or completely go off path to get closer to the lake that was the last known location of the Three Tails. And as he did, it began to rain. At first, it was just a light drizzle. But as Madara found himself walking further, the drizzle turned into rain, then the rain turned into sleet. It was a pretty heavy downpour as Madara reached the lakeshore and he stuffed the drenched map away in a pouch on his belt.

“Finally…”

He looked around the shore, before casting his gaze over the water. He was barely able to make out the form of an island in the middle of the lake, hidden by the sleet and rain pouring down on the lone man. “I cannot be expected to get out there, right?” He asked as he pulled out the notes on his mission. No, he was definitely expected to get to the island.

With a curse, Madara shoved the paper back into the pouch it had come from, before his hand moved to grab a kunai from a different pouch on his belt. He had to be prepared for anything.

As if it were second nature, Madara channeled chakra into the soles of his feet and took a few steps onto the water. He knew it would be a long walk, the lake was huge! Better get to it.

He began to run towards the island, trying to make up for the time he had lost by getting turned around on his way to the lake. After a few minutes of running, he swore he was hearing a second set of steps tapping along the surface of the lake to his left. He brought himself to a stop and looked over in that direction, pushing his bangs back from his face to see clearly.

The rain was not helping, though, and Madara could barely see a few meters in front of him. Taking a deep breath, he activated his sharingan, allowing it to focus in the direction of the second footsteps. While he had anticipated seeing someone standing there, he hadn’t expected the absolute density of the chakra signature they radiated.

Tensing, Madara knew this was about to be a fight. But he had the upper hand. Gripping his kunai tighter, he ran at the figure in the rain, relying on his sharingan to navigate. The figure in the rain also lunged at him, reaching behind themselves to draw a short sword from a sheathe attached at their lower back.

Tension filled Madara’s body as he finally got close enough to see the person he was about to cross blades with. A man. A man dressed in surprisingly light clothing. Only one layer of flowing, green and tan fabrics. As their blades clashed, sparks flew, and Madara was able to actually take in the man before him.

White hair, plastered to his forehead in wispy strands, sharp red eyes with long pupils that were nothing more than slits that were focused on Madara with the intent to kill, and three red markings on his face, one on each cheek and one on his chin. The notes on the mission hadn’t included any details of a person guarding the lake or the Three Tails.

“I’m not here for you. I just want the Three Tails.” Madara warned. He really didn’t want to fight someone if he could help it. He didn’t like the thought of hurting others. Not when the capturing of the Tailed Beasts was simple. The beasts didn’t think, they were all action. They were easily controlled by his sharingan, it’s why he’d been chosen.

“That’s a shame. You can’t have him. Turn around and leave before I kill you.” The man spoke in a gravelly voice. Madara was surprised at his words. Was this man really acting as a guard for the Tailed Beast?

Madara pushed the other man back, and he jumped back as well so he could gather himself and assess the situation. The man’s chakra was dense, strong, and oppressive. He didn’t know why it felt familiar, though…

As he was thinking, he noticed that the man was very still, his hands pressed together, palm to palm with the sword pressed between them, in front of him. Madara could physically feel the energy around them change as the seconds ticked on. He couldn’t let this get out of hand. He launched himself at the man, only to be blocked by the sword. As the sparks settled, Madara was able to see just what he was facing.

The man’s eyes were now surrounded by a light blue coloring in the pattern of scales which fed down across his cheeks, as well. A sage! Madara let out a determined grunt. There was only one family he knew of that openly shared that they carried the blood of sages and could achieve sage arts with enough training in solitude.

“You’re a Senju!”

[justanother-anon]

Okay so something I want to write but don't have the time for now the previously promised selkie au

Very vaguely outlined

Steve's mom is a selkie

That's why she follows his father around

The pool where barb died is now salt water

Steve is pretty because male selkies were very pretty 

Just the facts 

When he was little his mom held onto his coat

As he got older he controls both holding it and what it looks like

In highschool it is his letterman

After highschool it ends up looking like any number of thing but most frequently it's a sweater

Robin find out by wandering in to his house while he is transformed in the pool in the back 

She thinks his selkie version is the coolest thing and that his coat is the softest thing. 

He is very very careful with his coat

Until in the chaos of the upside down he knows he cannot transform so he leaves it on the boat with robin gently folding and giving it to her (not chucking it at eddie like in cannon)

Except somehow like in cannon it gets handed to eddie because chaos 

Robin brings it with her when she goes through the portal because that's her platonic soulmates link to life to not being miserable 

At she saves it from being torn up as bandage 

Ties it around her waist

In the trailer when they go through she takes it off intending to give back to steve then nancy happens and she shoves it at eddie in order to find a tape

Eddie then has it and its clearly important so he will take care of it because robin seems to be guarding it with her life and he gets having things that seem innocent being important

Steve asks her for it while in the hospital and she just panics because where the fuck did it go

She knows she had it, he knows she had it and Steve knows she was not careless with it; it's just how the upside down happens. He is still scared and she feels like shit because he's crying on her shoulder and scared of losing a part of himself and getting stuck like his mom

Eddie's turn

Eddie's mom was stolen from the sea. What were the chances the day she was on the beach his father just happened to be out smoking during which he stole her coat. 

She had to stay with him 

She was kind to her son who had gotten the selkie looks 

Big brown eyes that could stop the world 

She hid his coat with her brother in law

Where her husband couldn't find it 

Told her brother-in-law as much as she could 

Eddie sometimes wonders if she knew it was coming 

Without being able to go to the sea she died and there was nothing he could do about it

He found he wasn't as picky as long as there was water he could transform in and he felt fine. 

He spent the week of his 13th birthday figuring out how to change his coat form like he wanted to after wayne gave it to him to take care of himself

Then later on when people started to bother him more and more, he figured it was inevitable someone was going to spray him with water or something when he was wearing his jacket and learned how to swim without transforming. 

~I don't know what goes here this is just a basic outline need to figure this out if you have suggestions I'll take them~

Eddie realizes he has Steve's sweater and wants to keep it (and does for a couple extra days) around the same time Steve does who is going through the same feeling and experience. And when Eddie knocks on Steve's door and hands him his sweater as Steve is out the door to give Eddie his jacket they recognize the reaction in the other and finally do something about the chemistry because they already have more in common than they do apart. 

Hands each other their jackets only to spiderman pointing meme at each other

Also oops now according to our customs that we apparently both share were married

Cue them calling Steve's mom in a semi panic and digging through everything Wayne has on selkie traditions from Eddie's mom

They can figure it out and you know selkie magic they keep on drawing near to each other (it's not sure they're bound together now but it doesn't just work from nothing if they wanted nothing to do with the each other they would have nothing to do with each other

Insert tender scene about eddie teaching Steve how to swim in his jacket without it transforming

El should know their is something diffrent about Steve but it's him being a selkie and she doesn't exactly have a good grasp of normal so she knows the whole time but doesn't say anything till Dustin finds out and freaks out

And they fall in love more than they were at the begining

Again this is up for grabs because I don't currently have time to do more than this

As always dedicating all ideas to @corrodedcoughin for getting me into this ship whither they know it or not

-✏️

[schmabbald]

my hand slipped. rtopia venom au

I WAS GONNA DRAW A SECOND PAGE BUT ITS BEEN THREE DAYS AND IVE BEEN TOO EXITED AND I WASNT PATIENT ENOUGH ;-;

anyway i cannot be trusted with any kind of media anymore. here's an rtopia venom au.

so here's the dealio (in as few words as possible):

Johnathan [last name pending] WAS a normal (ish) human before applying for a clinical trial at the Life Foundation. this goes exactly as well as you'd expect. he becomes the first human to not fatally reject symbiosis and is partnered with a Symbiote only ever referred to as "the clever one"

the Symbiote (who doesn't have a name at this point) is picked for him because it happens to be very, very, almost stupidly small and weak. despite this, however, their "first contact" is painful and traumatic enough that John is completely unconscious for two days.

the symbiote is called "the clever one" because it figured out how to break out of the containers they're kept in. twice. its samples also responded more than any of the other symbiote's samples when tested and it started picking up on human gestures by observation. it even waves to John before the container is opened

as soon as John is awake again, it's immediately on his case. it tells him that it's very, very hungry and that it has a plan to escape as long as he complies. when he seems resistant to this, the Symbiote lies to him and tells him that they'll kill him if he doesn't work with them, stating that they've "killed two others before". they simply didn't specify that the "others" were glass jars. John fails to call their bluff and agrees

so the Symbiote tells him their plan. they detach from him completely and scramble around on the floor while he calls for help (they know that the other symbiotes don't leave hosts alive to call for help and that the workers at the facility can see wether the hosts are alive or not through the glass, so having him play dead wasn't an option. again, they're very clever)

someone leaves the door open when they rush in to help the symbiote, John grabs it and RUNS while he has the chance

he learns, very quickly, that the symbiote can protect him from being shot and help him run faster. it can also seize complete control of his limbs. it cannot do both at once (weak ass) but at least it's covering his ears the entire time

through the POWER OF FRIENDSHIP (basic teamwork) they clamber through a window and out into the forest beyond, still being chased. with no other viable options to get to safety, the symbiote throws them both into a pond and holds him under the water until the coast is clear

that's all im saying for now. i need to stop somewhere. so that's how John got Chat! it isn't named Chat yet but that happens pretty soon after this. also Dread is on his phone in that one panel because i think that he would be an awful doomscroller. he would be unstoppable if he didn't turn his brain into mush on twitter

[goldeneyedgirl]

can't believe my dumb ass misunderstanding the hybrid jasper thing and the fact that you were talking about vampire jasper in the og hybrid universe actually resulted in such a beautiful thing thanks a lot to your galaxy brain and i'm sorry but now i'm one more anon disturbing you til death to have more of this concept !!!!!!!!!!

No, Anon. You gifted me with your galaxybrain thoughts. This concept has eaten away at me. I love fucking with the dynamic between Alice and Jasper, and the idea that he's some fucked up, mutated version of a hybrid because Maria crossed his path will feed me for a long time. 

I'm still fiddling with how I want to approach this - there's the 'rewriting the canon story beats'. Or there's more of a Jasper-version of Hybrid which is... tempting. I could have fun with that. 

But for now, here's some more from the ficmas version!

He wants to trust Alice.

But it’s hard. Nothing good has ever come from trusting a vampire. Or a woman.

Everything about her seems to be designed to lure him in - her big eyes, the sweet and hopeful smile on her face, the way she fusses with her gloves and hat and shoes. She smells like good things, safe things that feel like he dreamed them once. He really does want to trust her.

But he can’t.

The room that she’s rented for them is small but clean and warm. He wasn’t expecting that. Or the fact there’s a weather-beaten suitcase with clothing for him on the bed.

“It was easier to tell the landlady that you were my husband,” Alice says apologetically, as she takes off her coat and hangs it up. “If we’d traveled as siblings, more questions would have been asked.” There’s a tarnished brass ring, held on with a slip of paper, on her left hand that she slips off and into thin air. “She has assumed you were a soldier, which will work in our favor.”

He nods dumbly. Cover stories are nothing new, and this one is sturdy. But it makes him feel like he’s caught in a net and he can’t get free if everything turns sour with all the details already figured out for him. He wishes he knew if he could trust her.

Alice watches him for a moment, and she looks almost sad before she gestures to the suitcase. “Take what you need - the washroom is at the end of the hall. If… if I fetch you some food, will you eat?”She sounds oddly tentative making that offer but he nods. He’s not sure what he will eat - he existed on human blood for so long that human food only does so much; it is essentially medicinal, to keep him healthy and functioning. He can go for weeks, if not months, without much more than a few mouthfuls of water but it will take its toll.

But the blood… the blood he needs to stay in control.

In the washroom, he finds the case is very precisely packed - two outfits for him, all in dark colours and folded neatly, along with a comb and a razor. Soap and towels are provided in the washroom, thankfully. She’s even found him a set of pajamas that smell like soap flakes and dust. But underneath his things is a filmy pink scarf, separating another layer of clothing, and he cannot help but peel it back to see what else is packed in this suitcase.

There’s a threadbare yellow dress with mismatched buttons; a grey sweater that looks miles too big for Alice; a beige slip with a torn strap hastily pinned; a little pouch with an ancient-looking hairbrush, a dirty lipstick, and a brown leather notebook tied closed with some ribbon.

The notebook looks as old as he is, and he feels oddly guilty as he reaches for it. But he opens it and… maybe he can trust her.

The first few pages are letters. Unsteady and uneven, in a small, cramped hand; practicing over and over again until the letters become words. Mostly ‘Alice’ and ‘Jasper’ and ‘Cullen’. Leaning to write until it looks like the hand of someone her age and not someone who seems to have taught themselves.

And then little drawings - he’s stunned to see himself in many of them, drawings the size of postage stamps so as not to run out of pages.

A few sketches of clothing - dresses and coats and shirts. Lists of items, as if her memory cannot retain things. And then, almost in the middle of the book, it becomes … it becomes something he feels like he shouldn’t have seen. Notes on him, for him. Things to remember, things to know. Things that her funny gift has seen.

Can’t get cold or wet.

Doesn’t like milk.

Sleeps!

Pages and pages of notes to herself about him. And instead of being creeping and unnerving, like being watched in the dark, he found it… sweet and endearing, a clumsy gesture of goodwill.

She wasn’t lying when she said that she had been looking for him, waiting for him.

When he goes to put her things back in order, hoping that she won’t realize he intentionally looked through them and just messed them up pulling his own things out, he finds a dirty bit of cloth. There’s mud and old blood on it, and he pulls it out to see exactly why Alice has kept it.

It’s a torn, dirty garment. Not a dress or a shirt, but shapeless. The blood runs down the left side - a distinct pattern. He doesn’t need the lingering scent of venom to identify it, not with the blood splatter the way it is.

This was the garment she died in.

[asherlockstudy]

I didn't get a weird vibe from EB but it was odd how Rhett said they need to "feed the" shippers. Sure, Rhett. 👀

I don't think anyone had even speculated about their camping meetup. Haha

I am gonna explain both here because they go together.

Finally watched EB, just in time to get done with it before the new R&L video.

I didn’t see a weird vibe in EB either. Rhett indeed had COVID and in case he had been annoyed throughout his sickness with Link due to the reasons we discussed, it was over by the time of this recording. He didn’t however say a single thing about GME except that he felt horrible throughout. But no afterthoughts on the GME whatsoever. And since Link pointedly did not include Rhett among the people with positive views on it (himself and the crew) in his solo episode, it seems we will likely never have Rhett’s takeaway from GME3.

The one strange moment was when Rhett explained how he caught the virus after having sex with Jessie - again. Link was weird about Rhett’s sex with his wife. Water is wet. He didn’t say anything too much so you probably wouldn’t get it from the podcast format but it was visible in the video format. I had found it interesting last year how after so much time evading covid, Rhett and Link both caught it at the exact same time after vacationing together in a mountain town. But Rhett was adamant he caught it later from Jessie during the sex they were having and that Link must have caught it during his next vacation with his family. Now in this podcast, Link said that he had probably caught covid last year from Rhett and Rhett gave him a slight side look and said “no it cannot be because timing” and Link was like “yeah yeah you right”.

Of course this could have totally been the case (although Covid can make a lot of days to show the symptoms) but the funny thing here is… that you don’t have to have sex to get Covid lol That was one of the things that has driven the world crazy about it - that it is easy to catch! Rhett could have perfectly be in the same general area as Jessie and there would still be a high chance to get it especially since they had not figured out Jessie had Covid. Take me for example. I know how I caught it but how the person I caught it from caught it in the first place will remain the biggest mystery in the universe… But Rhett makes this almost seem like an std lol Again I am not saying he is not telling the truth but that it is funny how he overexplains getting Covid - like, he could also say “Jessie was sick and I got it too”. But the previous year he had also analysed how he was on top of her and their mouths were aligned and they were breathing into each other basically and, okay, Rhett you caught Covid. It happens a lot, trust me. We get it 😂

Now let’s go to what pissed me off both here and in GMM. I saw that the GMM thing was viewed positively or as a joke here on tumblr and I don’t know if I have got this the wrong way or something.

So in GMM Rhett chose to say in an irrelevant moment that they are trying to do certain things for the clicks, and apparently these things are taken seriously by certain fans who analyse them and they are so adamant about the conclusions that they draw regarding their lives that this certainty is so overwhelming that even they forget what the actual truth is or they end up agreeing or they are conditioned to agree. Link said ironically that this is very healthy. Rhett said all that with a smile.

I saw people here taking this as part joke-part semi-confirmation that some things in the theories are correct.

In EB he claimed Link made it sound like they had sex or fondled each other during their short encounter during camping. Fun fact: Link didn’t really sound like that, he said “we didn’t get into it that much” or something along those lines but well this can have a generic meaning, you have to be suspicious in advance or on edge to immediately consider that Link meant there was some light petting going on. I mean, Rhett eventually made it seem more suspicious than it was before.

But Rhett went on saying there are people living their lives wanting to believe that this was a romantic date. And much like in GMM he said they were mentioning things in such a way in order to cater to such fans and get the views. These are very similar statements in two different videos and it seems this is a thought taking a lot of space in Rhett’s brain lately.

Now here’s a few things:

The phrasing of this is exceptionally demeaning. While there are people believing or suspecting such things founded on a frankly strange behaviour from these two (including me lol), it is a wild leap to assume they are living their lives for it. Most people are able to make the connections or draw conclusions at real time while watching THEIR content. And then they can go on with their own lives. Given how fast they managed to lose some of their most dedicated shippers a few years ago, I would say that in fact most people don’t live their lives for it but some simply see it and some might find it cute? Appealing? Interesting? Idk. For me it’s intrigue more than anything else - I am curious how this thing will pan out. And a bit concerned since it’s been years I watch them - dunno how concerned I will keep being if Rhett keeps saying shit like that lol

The claim that they do it for the views - don’t make me laugh now. How will you get the views from it when all your content’s titles are about Doritos and sriracha?!?!?? The following they have gathered around them is in truth mostly foodies or generally people who like to consume various products and nowadays fewer viewers care about their friendship, their dynamic, their personal stories. They drove those successfully out. Whatever innuendos exist within the content (save for GME) are incidental, do not interest a great number of viewers and do not really attract a reliable and steady audience. You only have to check the views honestly. If this went in sync with how suspiciously homoromantic Rhett and Link act, there should be rises in the views, not drops! And their R&L videos would have been soaring, not struggling.

If Rhett says that they do things to attract shippers but then shippers get too serious and there is some sort of violation in their personal lives (that’s in fact what he implied, despite the smile and all), then the fault still lies with them. If he means they initially bait shippers this way, well since it gets out of hand and since as he claims it is all unfounded, well, here’s a solution: 🌺DON’T. BAIT. PEOPLE.🌼 If there’s no truth and it’s all strategically planned in those strange moments, then surely it will be very easy to stop. On the other hand, if despite all those concerns expressed, they still choose to perpetuate this for the “””””views”””””” and the money, well then I can’t feel sorry for them. It’s their choice. One of them really said “we are desperate”. Yeah I could tell that by the nipple suck. But if you are really getting desperate, maybe something doesn’t work right in the top of the Mythical Pyramid. And the problem is not the viewers, shippers or not. I was more understanding a few years ago but now I get the old shippers’ frustration more - you fuck up and then you say “oh it’s the fault of the one watching me that I fucked up but I need them to watch me so I am gonna keep fucking up” No thanks, if you ask me. Stop fucking up.

[claimedminotaur]

Legends of Enderel - Book One: Mage

Chapter 1: Sellsword

As night falls on the city of Ashford and rain patters on rooftops and muddies streets, a lone girl walks into an inn, drenched from the heavy downpour. She takes off her dark blue cloak and proceeds to shake it, throwing water all over the entrance. After hanging it on the coat rack, she walks up to the bar. “An ale, if you please,” she says as she sits down.

The innkeeper fills a cup with ale and hands it to her, “What's a lady like you doing in this part of town?”

She takes a sip and replies with a slight cough, “I heard there were mercenaries staying here.”

The innkeeper raises an eyebrow, “You seem like the type who'd prefer a squad of knights.”

She responds with a sigh, “Believe me, I tried, but the Duke said they were otherwise engaged.”

“Ah, well in that case, take yer pick,” he says gesturing in front of him. In the center of the room three men sit at a table, each with a mug of ale. The one who appears to be the leader, a large man with short hair and a scruffy beard that barely touches his leather brigantine, is attempting to use his 'influence' to get out of paying, much to the waitress’s annoyance.

The girl grunts in frustration and turns back to the innkeeper, “I cannot be expected to employ the likes of-" she gestures to the mercenary, "well… him.”

“I'm afraid that's all we have at the moment,” the innkeeper says with a shrug.

She swallows her pride and turns to talk to the leader. Just as she gets up the door opens and a figure enters. As soon as he is in full view of everyone the inn goes silent. The man is wearing all black with black leather pauldrons, bracers, grieves, and gloves. He wears a black cloak, a black hood that appears to be part of his clothes rather than his cloak, and the most intriguing, a black scarf over his mouth and nose. He is armed with a longsword on his left side and a dagger on his right. She looks around in confusion as everyone else is staring with looks of fear and curiosity. As the man moves to the corner of the room, the conversation resumes quietly but a few patrons run upstairs to their rooms. By the time he sits at a table with his back against the corner the inn is filled with hushed whispers.

The girl stares at the man a moment before looking back to the innkeeper, “Who is that man?”

The innkeeper looks at her, then the man, then back before leaning in close and whispering, “They call ‘im Ranger, but I doubt that's his real name.” He picks up a mug and begins cleaning it. “They say he goes from place to place selling his sword. It's how he got his name, I suppose.”

“He's a mercenary?” She says with a surprised look.

He nods, “Ay. He hasn't been working long, but he's made quite the name for 'imself.”

She looks around the room, the overwhelming feeling of tension drawing her attention. Focusing on each face reveals mixed reactions, but one is present in everyone. Returning her attention to the innkeeper, she asks, “Is that why everyone is afraid of him?”

They are interrupted by a *thwack* from across the room. They look over to see that Ranger has placed five silver coins, or silvers as they call them, on the table. The innkeeper looks to the barmaid, “Marley, get 'im some bread and some of that chicken. Here, this too.” He fills a mug and puts it on the counter. The barmaid returns with the items and brings them to Ranger, collecting the money before she leaves. She grabs the mug off the counter and brings it to him. As she sets it down he pulls out a copper and hands it to her. She slips it in her blouse and does a quick courtsy before returning to her duties.

The girl looks to the innkeeper with more confusion, “So?”

He leans in again, “There's this story about a bounty he collected. A group of soldiers had deserted and became bandits, a sadly common occurrence with the war and all. Anyways, the Duke put a bounty on their heads. Twelve of 'em, I believe. They attacked a merchant who was bringing his yield from the market. Killed 'im, stole his coin, and captured his daughter. They each took turns on 'er.”

“Gods!” she says, her eyes widening in shock.

“Apparently while one of 'em was…em...taking his turn, she saw a blade go through his neck. Then the blade went back and the man with it. She says she saw a shadow slaughter the rest of 'em in seconds.”

Her jaw drops, “All eleven of them?!”

He shrugs, “So they say. The leader was still alive, trying to crawl to safety. She said the shadow walked over to 'im, put both hands in his mouth and pulled. It ripped his jaw clean off. A few days later Ranger walked into the city with a sack on his back and dropped it on the doorstep of the guard barracks. Inside were the heads of the bandits, one of whom was missing a jaw.”

The girl just stares at the innkeeper in horror. He sees this and attempts to put her mind at ease, “Folk say he ain't a problem though, say he won't hurt no one lest they give 'im reason. Plus he don't talk much, so you don't have to worry about that.”

The girl looks over at the mercenary leader. He is eyeing the waitress suspiciously while touching his waist. He suddenly stands up and starts desperately tapping his hands on different parts of his waist. He looks all around before stopping at the barmaid cleaning his table. He stares at her, his rage evident, "You."

She looks up confused, "Me?"

He moves towards her, "You stole my purse. I'll take your hands you damned thief!"

She tries to back away but he grabs her arm. She screams, “No, stop!” and all in the inn look in their direction.

The innkeeper quickly shouts, “Let her go or I'll call the guard!”

The mercenary glares at him, “No need, I'll handle this myself.”

The innkeeper responds with desperation in his voice, “She's not a thief, she's my daughter.”

“I don't care who she is!” The mercenary growls at him.

The barmaid manages to free an arm which she uses to elbow the mercenary in the face causing him to let go. She quickly turns to run away but he catches her arm. He lifts his fist to strike her when a sword slashes through the air. His closed fist falls from his arm and hits the floor with a thump. He drops to the floor clutching his arm and screaming in agony. Everyone in the inn shifts their gaze back and forth between him and his severed hand, unsure of what just transpired. The mercenary underlings look up to see Ranger wiping blood from his sword and immediately stand and draw their weapons.

Ranger watches his enemies as if waiting for them to strike. The mercenary to his left wields a mace while the one to his right wields an arming sword. They charge at the same time, the one with the mace swinging first. Ranger parries the mace, steadies his blade with his left hand and stabs the left mercenary in the neck. With the blade still in his neck he blocks the right mercenary’s sword and stabs him in the eye with his guard, while still blocking his sword. Ranger removes his sword from both of them, instantly dropping their corpses to the floor. He cleans his blade on his cloak then sheathes it before moving toward the door.

As he steps into the doorway the mercenary leader stumbles to his feet. His skin is pale, and it's clearly taking all his strength not to pass out. He opens his mouth to speak, at first struggling but then he groans, “I'm going to gut you like a fish, then I'll finish what I started!” Ranger turns around and glares at him, before shifting his gaze to the barmaid. He looks at her for a few seconds then at the ground before reaching behind his back and pulling out a small coil of rope. He grasps one end and lets the other drop. Before it hits the ground he whips it back up in a flash. To everyone's surprise, the rope is embedded in the man's skull. It isn't until Ranger pulls the rope back, pulling the corpse forward and removing it from his skull, that they see a small barbed blade attached to the end. He quickly re-coils the rope, places it behind his back, and steps outside, closing the door behind him.

The girl stands frozen, shocked by the brutality that just transpired. The barmaid runs to her father's arms and starts crying, the sudden action breaking the girl from her trance. She quickly runs out the door, eager to find the black butcher. She looks around and just barely manages to catch movement in a nearby alley. She quickly runs into the alley, only to find no one there. “Dammit!” She moves to turn but feels a hand on her back and quickly finds herself pressed against a wall. She's about to scream when her assailant turns her to face them. To her surprise, her assailant is the very person she sought. He quickly presses a dagger to her throat. “Wait, please!” she cries, pleading desperately for her life. “I want to buy you!” Ranger looks confused, but soon realises what she meant to say. She wants to hire him. He immediately backs away and sheaths his dagger.

The girl collapses to the floor, rubbing the red mark on her neck where the dagger was pressed. No blood was drawn, but it still hurt. She stands up and brushes herself off and sees him staring at her, as if studying her. After a few seconds of this she holds out her hand, palm down and fingers curled, "Lady Isadora D’Arbour." He shifts his gaze to her hand and continues watching it, as if unsure of what to do. Eventually he settles for just shaking her outstretched hand, leaving her absolutely dumbstruck. "Umm, okaay. Can I get your name at least? That is assuming that Ranger is not your real name."

He stares at her a few moments before asking a different question, "Where are we going?"

"Whatever do you mean?" She says, cocking an accusatory eyebrow at him.

He sighs and rolls his eyes, "You want an escort?"

She chuckles at his ignorance, "An escort? I'm not going to a ball. I want a bodyguard… Well, and a guide." His annoyance would be written on his face were it not for his scarf, but he just stares at her in response. As if picking up on this, she continues, "But if you must know, we are going to Te'vir." He visibly stiffens at the name. Catching on immediately she asks, "You've been before?"

He quickly clears his throat, trying to change the subject, "That's quite a journey."

She eyes him suspiciously, "Yes. I have business at the Great Library… Is that going to be a problem?"

His annoyance returns as he stares her in the eyes, "No."

"Perfect. Looks like I won't need a guide after all," she says, clapping her hands in finality, "Well, then. We depart in the morning." He nods and turns to leave but she is quick to respond, "Where are you going?"

He stops in his tracks before turning to face her, "I just killed three people. The guards will be looking for me.

"What? But how will I find you?"

"Leave the city and I'll find you." He quickly leaves the alley and vanishes into the night.

She calls after him, "How exactly? Hello?" But he's already gone. "Great. I guess I'll find my own way back!" She huffs as she begins to navigate her way back to the inn, "Bloody criminals, all of them." As she returns to the inn, she finds the place is swarming with guards who are carrying the dead bodies out onto a cart. They turn to her as she enters, studying her before deciding she's uninteresting and return to the final body.

She moves up to she innkeeper who looks surprised to see her, "I figured you'da been long gone after something like that."

She nods revealing her predicament, "It would seem I'm in need of a room, and your inn is still the closest one."

He nods, looking guilty, "Aye, would seem it is. Plus we have a tavern. Can't go wrong with that. Well, basic room's 20 silvers, premium room is 50 silvers."

She opens her pouch and pulls out a gold, "Premium room please."

The innkeeper takes her gold and goes into a back room and opens a safe. He places the gold in the safe and returns with a pouch. Dumping the pouch on the counter, he sorts out 50 silvers and returns the rest to the pouch. As she collects her change, he reaches behind the counter and hands her a key. Pointing to the stairs, he says, "Third floor, there's only one room so you can't miss it. Do you have any bags?"

"Just the one."

He nods, "Okay. Well, I'll have Marley bring up yer bags and draw you up a bath if you wish."

"A bath would be perfect," she's already imagining washing off the dirt from the alley.

He nods, "I'll send her up right after you."

She moves away and heads up the stairs to the third floor. Upon unlocking and entering the room she's greeted by a rather large room (for a cheap inn) with a desk and chair, and a medium sized bed in the corner, as well as a metal tub next to the opposite wall. Not bad.

After a relaxing bath she slips into a nightgown and crawls into bed, thinking about the journey ahead.

—---------------

Ranger waits in the shadows of an alley as guards rush past, the pursuit of him still in full effect. He looks both ways down the street and prepares to dart across before suddenly stopping. “If you are planning to kill me, you should know that won't end well.” He turns around and finds a man in rags leaning against the wall several yards into the alley.

The man looks relaxed, but his fear is noticeable by the trained eye. His eyes never leave the black butcher, his weight more centered underneath him, his hand waiting close by a small shape under his shirt. A knife, most likely. “Aye, I’s heard what you did to those boys in the Inn.” He looks at the blood, old and new, on Rangers clothes. “So has the boss,” he says, looking him in the eyes.

“Oh?” Ranger takes a careful step forward deeper into the alley, his eyes darting around to look for any comrades this man might have. He notices an odd shadow behind a barrel at the other end of the alley, and hears a slight shift on the roof of the building to his right. Two more friends in hiding, he thinks. “And who is this boss of yours? Can't still be Jespar, that man was a fossil last I saw him.”

The thief chuckles, “Nah, that old fool’s long gone. Replaced by another, who'll be replaced by another. I's work for the big boss.” The thief flashes a wicked smile as Ranger’s eyes flash in recognition.

Oh

“I see’s you know ‘im. Good, then we's don't need no introductions.” He pushes off the wall and starts to head towards the other end of the alley. Ranger waits, thinking over his options. The thief turns around, “Come on, now. Boss ain't a patient man.” Ranger sighs and follows, paying close attention to the two other thieves who emerge beside them.

He follows the thieves to the back of an expensive tavern, where a set of stairs leads down to the cellar. The lead thief motions down the stairs, a satisfied smile on his face, “Down you go.”

Ranger rolls his shoulders and heads down the stairs. He's greeted by an iron-reinforced wooden door. This is clearly no ordinary cellar. He knocks three times and is greeted by a rugged pair of eyes as an eyehole is opened. The eyes look him up and down and the hole closes. Muted voices can be heard before the lock clicks, and the door swings open. A large man opens the door, his bald head shining slightly from the light inside. He frowns with his unshaven face, the scar on his nose and mouth stretching as it contorts to the shape, “You’s smaller than I’s expected.” He nods for Ranger to come in.

Waiting inside is a very pale man with sharp, defined features, sitting at a table. His cloak is simple, but hides fine silk garments underneath. Ranger carefully stands in front of the man, aware that he's surrounded on all sides by well-armed men. The man smiles at Ranger’s arrival, “Well, if it isn't the Black Butcher. You've made quite a mess in your short time here in this fair city. I must say, this new nickname is one of my favorites.” He pauses, taking in Ranger’s appearance. “It's so… visceral,” he says the last word with a wicked smile, almost relishing in the day’s brutality.

Ranger carefully sidesteps away from the door, ensuring his back is to the wall instead of the opening, “If I had known you were here, My Lord, I would have avoided coming here, entirely.”

The Lord chuckles, “Such hostility! Please, just Alucard to you. My friends have earned the privilege.”

Ranger scoffs, “We are not friends.”

“Aren't we?” Alucard rises, everyone in the room watching his movements. “Have you forgotten, my Butcher?” He saunters over to Ranger, getting much too close for comfort. “You owe me.” He steps away and waves his hand, “And now it seems you owe me again. As you were on your way over, I took care of your little guard problem. They won't bother you anymore.”

“I never asked for that,” Ranger snaps.

Alucard smiles, “But of course not. You never do. That is what friends do for each other, after all. I did a favor for you,” he picks up a parchment and turns back to Ranger, “And now you do a favor for me.”

“I'm not doing anything for you,” Ranger assesses his surroundings as he prepares to fight his way out.

“Tsk tsk tsk. So quick to violence, Ranger, or whatever name you use these days,” he slowly walks over to Ranger. “You will do as I ask,” he says, handing the parchment out towards him, “Because I know where you hid it.”

Ranger goes taught. Alucard lightly taps the parchment against his chest and he takes it absentmindedly, too shocked to be paying attention. “How?”

Alucard smiles wickedly, “You should know better than to think you could hide something from me.” He waves his hand, walking back to the table, “Not to worry, Butcher, it is somewhere safe.” He points to the parchment, “You do that for me, and we can talk about working off your debt.” There is a long silence as Ranger contemplates his words.

“No.”

Alucard looks shocked, “No?”

Ranger stares him down, “The barmaid. She was one of yours, wasn't she? I saved her life. I do this for you, and we're even.”

The Lord laughs, a genuine and haunting sound, “Oh, you are a clever one.” He eyes Ranger up and down, “Very well. Even, it is.” He gestures outside, “Now, it's almost sunrise. You have a charge to protect, do you not? Best get back to her before something untoward happens,” he smiles. Ranger flicks his gaze to the men surrounding him. “My men have not harmed her,” Alucard states, “In fact, she is sleeping soundly as we speak.”

“Fine,” Ranger answers quickly. “Just leave us alone.”

Alucard puts his hands up in a placating manner, “You won't hear from me until it is done.”

Ranger nods and hurries out the door, keeping to the shadows despite the Lord’s assurances. He climbs to the roof of the inn and sits just above Isadora's window. Upon hearing her sleeping soundly, he relaxes and lays back against the roof, allowing himself to drift off to sleep.

[ghostflowerdreams]

Prompt Story Ideas

Here’s a list of possible ideas for a one-shot or a multi-chaptered story. You don’t have to follow them exactly unless you want to. I even offered some suggestions within the brackets to help, but you can put your own spin to it or combine some of these ideas together.

You can also use any character (or more than one) – such as an original character, canon character, self-insert or reader-insert. Whatever you decide to do, you pretty much have free reign with this.

While on a backpacking trip you get lost, but discover a magical town called [Town’s Name], which seems to have been pulled right from a children’s fairy tale book [or the Grimm Brothers' book]. You soon learn that you cannot leave the town until you find true love...

You’re bar-hopping with a couple of friends, but get separated from them when entering a secret bar called [Bar’s Name]. It’s a 1920s theme [or wild west theme, pirate theme, Victorian era theme, D&D theme, etc.] bar that looks to be very authentic and historically accurate. You grow very concern when you discover that it’s actually all real and that you’ve somehow time travel [or dimension traveled to another world, etc.]...

You awaken in a hallway [or inside the air vent, on top of a examination table, inside a stasis tank, in a unlocked cell, etc.] of a deserted mansion [or a laboratory, hospital, prison, space station, island, ship, airplane, etc.] with amnesia. You’re wearing only a medical gown [or a military uniform, lab coat, prison jumpsuit, pajamas, etc.] and sporting a massive headache...

Your world is doom and all of your love ones are gone. As a last resort you’re sent [either by magic or technology] back in time to prevent it or to minimize the loss of life [or resources] as much as possible. However, something went wrong and you’re sent back farther than originally planned [or you’re sent to another dimension, parallel universe, etc.]...

You’re a vampire [or a immortal-cursed human, elf, demon, fae, witch, etc.]. You awaken after centuries of a self-imposed sleep [or you’re inadvertently freed] from your tomb [or cage] and emerge into a very changed world. Gas lamps have given way to neon signs. Horse-drawn [or ox-drawn, depending on location] carriages to sports cars. You certainly feel like a fish out of water, but you welcome the efficiency and convenience that technology innovation brings. The problem, however, is that you’re drawing too much attention to yourself as you try to figured out how everything works...

You get summoned into a fantasy world [or a distant planet, alternative universe, the past, the future, etc.] to serve as its hero [or to grant the summoner’s wish, to be their slave/pet, you’re their soulmate, to be used as bait, etc.]. You’re not exactly what they expected, but they really should’ve been specific [or read the fine print] though, because you’re no one’s lackey or plaything...

You switch places with another person [or an identical twin, doppelgänger, clone, etc.] from another world. You have to play along until you can figure out how to switch back without alerting anyone, or else they’ll think you’ve gone insane and lock you up somewhere...

Your parent(s) [or guardian, sibling, friend, etc.] drags you to a supposedly haunted castle turned hotel to investigate for their work. You've only found signs of the haunt being staged to attract tourists. However, you’re proven wrong when you meet an actual ghost and end up falling for them...

After a plane crash [or shipwrecked, time travel, portal, etc.], you find yourself stranded in a mysterious land inhabited by dinosaurs [or dragons, etc.] and other dangers...

Years after a massive nuclear war [or alien invasion, asteroid, zombie apocalypses, etc.] you set out from the underground shelter, discovering that the world is not the same as it once was...

You get married and are clueless about your spouse’s intentions. They have plans to kill you for your money [or to sacrifice you for their god, etc.] but they end up actually falling for you and try to protect you from their unhinged partner in crime [or mob boss, cult, etc.]...

An angel falls into your pool [or a nearby pond, lake, etc.] with a broken wing. You do your best to splint their injured wing and keep them safe until they’re able to fly to the Heavens, but they don’t make it easy with their child-like attention span and wondering off to pet all the animals they see...

You’re a caregiver, working in a nursing home and you always do the night shift. That’s because you’re a vampire [or some other type of creature that feeds on energy or emotions like a incubus/succubus, etc.] and it’s the perfect position for you to feed and earn a living without drawing too much attention to yourself. But the newest staff member [or a senior’s relative who’s always visiting, etc.] is adamant in befriending you [or uncovering your secret] and you’re finding it difficult to keep them at arm's length...

You and your fiancé are keeping secrets from each other. They are not who you think they are and you’re not human. Your fiancé didn’t think they were capable of feeling love until they met you and you’re trying to keep your monstrous urges and instincts in check...

You’re a mortician, which is a great business for a vampire to be in. Simply because before you begin the embalming, you can drain the corpses of their blood for later consumption. However, things don’t go as planned when the corpse suddenly pops back up alive [or undead, if another vampire, zombie, etc.] and now you’ve got to deal with a hysterical newbie about their circumstances...

You’re an angel tasked with blessing a woman who was unable to have a child [or blessing an unborn child with the green thumb, blessing a devoted couple with a long life, etc.], but an unexpected comet [or asteroid, beam of light, etc.] hits you and you fall to Earth [or Terra Prime, Helion Prime, Adra, Namek, Vulcan, Pandora, etc.]. You quickly shift into a humanoid form before you hit the ground [or the water] and you’re discover by a human [or a elf, dwarf, vulcan, namekian, android, na'vi, etc.] who nurses you back to health...

You’re content with your life, but sometimes wish that it wasn’t so mundane. Surprisingly enough, the next day a stranger approaches you with the news that everything around you isn’t real and that you're not who you think you are [or you’re the chosen one, etc.]. You’re killed, but instead of the afterlife you’re awaken in a bed at a mental hospital [or in a liquid-filled pod among countless other pods containing other humans, or in a robot body, etc.]...

One late night your fellow camp counselors pulled out a Ouija board. At the sight of it you felt an unsettling feeling in the pit of your stomach, especially when they suggested to use it to contact the spirit of a kid that died in the lake [or was caught in a forest fire, murdered, etc.]. You refused to mess around with it and immediately leave. Unknowingly, your decision saves your life because one by one they disappeared [or get possessed, brutally murdered by a supernatural killer, or die mysteriously, get cursed, etc.]. However, it also makes you seem suspicious...

You're a human with a Gorgon-cursed, which forces you to always hide your eyes behind blindfolds and pitch-black sunglasses. But one day you meet someone at the supermarket who accidentally knocks you over, causing your glasses to slip down. You're shock to find that they didn't turned to stone at the sight of your eyes, but that’s because they’re blind and now you’re intrigue by them...

In a secret laboratory the scientists conduct a genetic experiment with alien DNA in which you are created, a alien-human hybrid. You escape from your containment cell with the help of a old janitor [or guard, scientist, mercenary, solider, agent, full-blooded alien, another hybrid, etc.] and are on the run from the shadow organization [or the government, etc.]. You save a kid’s life from a vicious bully [or from falling off a balcony, from thugs, from drowning in a pool, from a fire, etc.] who then becomes your friend and teaches you how to be human...

You’re a forest ranger who checks up on the sleepaway summer camp after not receiving the usual update from the camp’s director. Only to find out that there’s a masked killer [or a demon, a ghost, werewolf, etc.] on the loose, targeting the campers or the camp’s staff. You do your best to protect the kids, but there's only so much you can do on your own. It also doesn’t help that someone keeps leaving you flowering weeds, especially in odd places and at inappropriate times...

You made a wish on what you thought was a shooting star, only to find yourself in a fictional world of a video game [or a book, a tv show, a movie, etc.]. What’s worst is that you’re not even a human anymore. You’re stuck as the main character’s animal companion [such as a dragon, a owl, a cat, a wolf, a bird, a raccoon, a squirrel, etc.] and have to help them out in order to find the cursebreaker [or the magic spell, true love’s kiss, etc.] that can turn you back to normal...

In a remote region of the sea [or near the bermuda triangle], you and your boat salvage crew [or marine photography enthusiasts, fishing crew, treasure hunters, marine researchers, explorers, etc.] discover the eerie remains of a grand passenger liner thought to be lost over 10 years ago [or 20 years ago, 50 years ago, 100 years ago, etc.]. Strangely enough it looks untouched by time and there’s no traces of the passengers, not even their remains. You can’t help but feel like there’s someone [or something] watching you all...

You’re a killer with a code that only kills those that are proven beyond a reasonable doubt to be killer themselves. You do not go after innocent people, especially children [because you genuinely have a good side or because you think it’s cowardly and isn’t a challenge to do so]...

You’re a toy [or a drawing, a statue, ice sculpture, etc.] that comes to life after a kid [or an adult] makes a wish [or says a magic spell, a freak storm happens, you’re a ghost and possessed it, etc.] to be real in order to have as a friend [or as a guardian, a parent, a lover, etc.]...

You are a princess [or heir/heiress, politician’s daughter/son, reporter, idol, ambassador, etc.] kidnapped by a pirate [or a dragon, a vampire, a werewolf, a barbarian, a obsessed fan, a cultist, a terrorist, etc.] for leverage [or ransom, revenge, to be a bride/mate, slavery, sacrifice, etc.], but you use your genuine kindness [or expert knowledge of how people work] to get them to empathize with you [or it’s a case of Lima syndrome] and eventually let you go free [or you turn the situation around to help everyone win, etc.]...

Without realizing it you are put into a secret test of character by a trickster in a disguised [or a demon, a djinn, a fairy, a god, etc.]. You impressed them for being genuinely a kind [or caring, thoughtful, etc.] person that they grant you a wish without any strings attach to it [or reward you with something you desire like love, adventure, etc.]...

You start every day by first feeding your cat [or some other pet], then going out onto your porch to pick up the milk and the newspaper. But one day you find something else left on your doorstep -- an alien baby [or an sentient flytrap-like alien plant, an mysterious black suitcase, etc.]...

You’re a part of a scientific expedition that uncovers fossilized evidence of an amphibian humanoid. When you’re collecting samples and data, you encounter the real-life fossilized creature. The being is curious about humans, but it quickly becomes enamored with you when you accidentally trigger their mating ritual [or it imprinted upon you, finds your pheromones genetic compatible/highly pleasant, etc.]...

You're abducted by aliens [or the fae, demons, oni, asgardians, pirates, wonderlanders, angels, etc.] and vanish off into outer space [or the Fae Realm, Underworld, Netherrealm, Asgard, Neverland, Wonderland, Afterlife, etc]. Three years later [or five years later, ten years later, etc.] you return to your family, but you’re not quite the same and some of them even believe you're not still a human either...

You're an orphan working as a chambermaid [or a guard, knight, soldier, laundress, undercook, messenger, stable hand, gardener, etc.] in the castle of [Name of the Castle's Location] since you were old enough to look after yourself. However, the visiting of foreign nobles change everything when one of the noblewoman claims that she’s been searching for you since you were taken from her as a baby [or a young child] and the only way she knows you’re truly her child is because of the distinctive birthmark [or scar, eyes, mole, freckle patterns, etc.] on your neck [or arm, hand, face, ear, etc.]...

Outclassed by the aliens and their massive ships hovering above Earth, the humans had no choice but to stand down or face destruction. The aliens offer an agreement with Earth’s government to leave the planet and most of the humans alone, but only if they’re allow to select a few that interest them whenever they want. The only ones completely safe from them are the children, pregnant women, the elderly and the sickly. From that point on life continued on as normal, but everyone would constantly look over their shoulders. You tried your best to keep your head down, but somehow managed to attract the attention of one of the aliens for some purpose [such as a slave, breeding partner, food, etc.]...

You are dumpster diving for food [or furniture, clothing, etc.] when you accidentally witness a man in a costume beat up a group of thugs trying to steal a car [or a vampire sucking the blood from a drunkard, a sharply dressed mobster shooting a man’s kneecaps for pissing off his boss, a couple making out and getting intimate, etc.]...

You go to a local dive bar with your friends. A fight breaks out between everyone [or a fire, a earthquake, etc.], forcing you and your friend to flee and get separated. You get taken by some guys who planned to use you in a satanic ritual in exchange for riches [or for power, beauty, great skill etc.]. However, they forget to actually kill you so the ritual doesn’t go as they planned [or they didn’t realize that they can't sell another person's soul when they don’t have a claim to it; unless it’s their own soul or their unborn/first-born child, you are not a virgin when they needed one for the sacrifice, etc.]...

Your job as a handler is to look out for your agent’s [assassin's, spy’s, etc.] physical/emotional well-being, supplying them with weapons, money, safe houses, debriefing them about the job/mission and instructing or advising them. However, something goes wrong when they pick up the wrong package [or are framed for something they didn’t do, refuse to finish the job, etc.] and it’s up to you to keep them alive...

After inheriting your grandparents' old farmhouse [or house, cabin, boat, etc.], you discovered a secret compartment under the wooden floor [or a secret room behind a bookshelf, secret drawer, hidden compartment behind a painting or fireplace, tucked behind a ceiling tile, etc.] containing a century-old diary/journal of [Name of the Book Owner], which records the activities of a cowboy [or a vampire, a WWI soldier/marine, a explorer, a doctor, a musician, etc.]. The more you learn about the writer the more you fall in love with them and wish you could’ve met them. Your wish is unexpectedly granted when you find a stranger within your home [or you find yourself transported into the past. etc.]...

You’re a medical student that accidentally gets electrocuted by an MRI machine and gain the ability to hear the thoughts of others when you’re touching them [or when they’re in close proximity]. You put your gift to good use by helping your patients with their worries and ease their conditions that they’re too embarrassed or afraid to reveal...

An unknown event caused all electricity around the world to stop working. It wouldn’t be such a bad thing if the blackout was temporary, but sadly not a single piece of technology works anymore. People have adjusted to life without it, but it’s not just bandits that they need to worry about. You are special, because you are a human [or a android, a alien, a mutant, etc.] with the ability to power up all electric device [or fix any electric device as long as it’s still in good condition, etc.]. You certainly live more comfortable than others, but unfortunately the wrong people found out about what you can do...

You fall unconscious and suddenly gain six months [or a year, etc.] of memories [or visions, etc.] from the future. But strangely enough, you're not the only one because everyone in the city had lost consciousness for five minutes by the mysterious event...

You got a job as a security guard to patrol and monitor a large factory building [or island, cruise ship, etc.] containing a massive escape room game. The company behind it is so strict that they have you sign a non-disclosure agreement before you can even sign the employment contract. You didn’t think anything of it because its pays well, until one of the game contestants sneaks a message into your pocket [or confronts you, etc.]...

You are a flight attendant [or a passenger, pilot, air marshal, doctor, etc.] when the plane is taken over by a mysterious virus, causing those infected to become violent and ravenous. You and the other uninfected passengers must fight for survival, because no government will allow the infected airliner to land. And the plane only has about 18 to 19 hours [or 21 hours, depending on speed and altitude] before it runs out of fuel...

You were foraging for medical plants [or fishing, camping, traveling, etc.] when you’re unexpectedly knocked out from behind. When you finally wake up you find yourself bound by the wrists in a horse cart with other prisoners, which apparently the guards have mistaken you as one of the rebels...

You are apart of a small repair vessel containing a crew of mechanical and electrical engineers. Because your ship is in the vicinity you’re contacted by headquarters to find out why the spaceship [or space station, moon base, etc.] has gone dark. When you get there you discover that the ship [or space station, moon base, etc.] has been overrun by dead bodies and the survivors mutated by an alien virus into murderous abominations...

You’re a benevolent Huli Jing, which is a Chinese mythological creature that can shapeshift from a nine-tailed fox to an attractive human. Your goal is to reunite with your friend [or family, lover, etc.] in the celestial realm, but to do so you have to consume enough life essence to transcend into a heavenly being. However, this energy needs to come from nature and not from human beings. Because if you give in and prey on people, you’ll lose the chance to ever ascend to the Heavens. But after becoming a victim to humanity’s cruelty you find it difficult to keep yourself from giving in to your vengeful wrath...

A bunch of drunk college kids summon a demon, in particularly a lust demon because of the sexual charge energy in the air. They also half-assed it and made a very wonky summoning circle which you, the demon, take full advantage of. You temporarily possessed one of them [or a nearby cat, bird, etc.] and look for a comatose patient to make a permanent home in. Unfortunately, you also have to deal with the attachments that come with the body, such as their friends, family and the medical bills...

You are a food writer [or a culinary historian] that has planned a trip to [the name of the country] to investigate the claim of a rising chef, who can recreate the legendary feast of the emperor/empress from the [Country’s Name] history [or The Last Supper from Leonardo Da Vinci's most iconic mural painting, The First Thanksgiving, etc.]...

When a vampire [or demon, witch, warlock, shapeshifter, etc.] meets you they become love-struck and secretly obsessed with you. As time passes their fear of losing you forever increases and they forcefully turned you into a vampire [or a demon, or they cursed you with immortality, etc.]. You’re kept in a luxurious furnished prison, where your every need is provided for and you are treated like royalty. You want your life back, but the vampire won’t let you go until you fall in love with them [or/and have better control of your new self]...

By day you’re a college student [or mayor, stripper, musician, artist, barista, construction worker, projectionist, etc.], but at night you’re a expert masked burglar, that everyone knows as the modern-day Robin Hood called [Name]. You would sneak into the wealthy suburbs and rob mansions, giving most, if not all, of your loot to the poor and homeless...

You were once a combat medic [or a bodyguard, stunt performer, secret agent, solider, assassin, sniper, race driver, etc.] but are now a professionally trained maid [or butler] that looks unassuming and ordinary at first glance. However, you’re actually a badass that always gets the job done whether it’s cooking, cleaning, washing, babysitting, and so on. The only problem is that your boss is a self-destructive idiot [or workaholic, narcissistic, self-absorbed snob, spoiled brat, etc.] that keeps putting [or unintentionally getting] themselves into dangerous situations...

You work at a nationwide company [or you start up your own business] that provides cleanup services for crime scenes and biohazard removal, such as blood, tissue or other bodily fluids [and/or body disposal]. However, it’s not like the others because it specialize in the supernatural which requires a different approach to get the job done...

Notes: Prompt Story Ideas, Pt. 2

[olet-lucernam]

A Hollow Promise [13] chapter iii, part i

{_[on AO3]_}

main tags : loki x original character, post-avengers 2012, canon divergence - post-thor: the dark world, canon-typical violence, mentions of torture

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summary: In the aftermath of the Battle of New York, the Avengers need a few days to build a transport device for the Tesseract. With the Helicarrier damaged and surveillance offline, SHIELD sends an asset to guard Loki in the interim: a young woman who sees the truth in all things, and cannot lie.

Even long presumed dead, her memories lost to her, Loki would know her anywhere.

And this changes things.

Some things last beyond infinity. And the universe is in love with chaos.

(Loki was never looking for redemption. It came as an unexpected side-effect.)

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chapter summary : loki's return to asgard becomes imminent, and his guard shows her hand.

recommended listening : church, fall out boy

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“What do you know of Asgard?”

Her shadow halted in its slow, ghostlike pacing, rendered a wraith in the demi-dark.

Then she spoke, and the spell was broken.

“Good morning to you too, Prince Loki.”

Her voice was tart-sweet and crisp, like the air at dawn and a fistful of dew-doused wildflowers. Loki wondered how long she had been awake, this time- and how long she had known that he was awake too. He has spent the past few minutes simply watching her, letting the fragile equilibrium hold, reliving a thousand overlapping memories veiled in a haze of barely-waking- a flutter of sharp light through a cascade of drapes, the shadow of a figure moving near silently through the gloom of his bedchamber, the rustle of sheets and reaching out with languid strength to drag her yielding form into his arms, smelling daybreak and high altitudes in her hair.

Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you, she would breathe out, curving herself up into him, palms smoothing from his waist to his ribs to the plane of his back, her warmth soaking through him. His reply would often be little more than an incoherent mumble as he slipped back into sleep, content.

Extending a hand to the control panel, she leaned over and lifted the lights with a light touch of her fingertip, as though drawing curtains from across a windowpane- the motion just slightly too precise and smooth.

The room brightened, turning as clear as water, and she resumed her pacing, as absent as a metronome’s swing.

Loki straightened.

His mood instantly turned brittle, like ice crystals forming inside his skin.

She was wearing the SHIELD jumpsuit from the first day.

The nondescript, muted navy smothered her, as though it was attempting to blend her into the black steel like a thick daub of oil paint, its streamlined cut mimicking the soft, splitting faux-leather of costume armour; only her boots seemed to have any weight, their dense tread on the mesh walkways implying their thick, solid utility. Her hair was loose, combed and coiffed with a fine sheen of oil, coaxed into an artful swoop of ash-blonde that framed her features, pulling into lax curls down her back- veiling the violet shadows under her eyes, the tarnish in the gold of her complexion, the faint pinch in her brow, gaze dimmed and unseeing as she pivoted and retraced her steps.

Loki could see the wear of a sleepless night in her, rapidly reconstructing how she had spent the hours- lying awake, the gears of her mind whirring in tandem with a resting heartrate that thrummed slightly too fast, primed and overwarm and burning the fumes of the midnight oil, planning and replanning.

He felt a stab of violent self-loathing, like a hot knife in the gut.

Loki had been too exhausted, wrung out, to notice that he had fallen asleep before her, and that she had likely been waiting him out.

“Good morning, darling,” he amended, his tone soft. “How long have you been awake?”

“Mm. Long enough.” Her flask was locked between her hands, her fingernail tapping against its plastic in a restless stutter, like wound clockwork.

Loki pressed the point, carefully, like probing for a suspected broken bone.

“And how long have you been fretting?”

“Thinking. Not fretting.” She corrected without breaking stride, more preoccupied than obstinate. “I bought down a matcha latte- and rose tea. Some people find it a little sweet, but I think you might like it. They’re in the capsule.”

Loki exhaled through his nose, and rose from the bench.

“Beloved.”

She halted partway through a stride forward, rocking backwards onto her heel, like the reversed momentum of a pendulum. Glancing over her shoulder, the gloss of her hair falling aside, her expression was perfectly attentive and expectant- lips parted, eyebrows raised, eyes doelike.

Loki simply gazed back, pointedly.

She gave way, dropping her eyes.

“The visual feeds are operational again. No audio, but Agent Barton can read lips in several languages. And- the device for the Tesseract will be finished in a matter of hours.”

She spoke evenly around the knot in her throat.

Loki gathered himself, recalibrating.

It was too soon.

But- the quicker that everything progressed, the earlier they could set events into motion, biasing the course of future, like carving out a runnel before a spill of water. Preparations would have to be swift and precise to have a chance of holding against the enemy, Loki had known this, but that had been before he had known that his return to Asgard would mean being torn away from her, again, and that it would hurt her too, even if she lacked the full context of why- of what had, once, could they still, did they still-

“A few hours?” Loki forced himself to ask.

“Mm. Before noon, most likely. Dr Stark and Dr Banner are slightly more brilliant than I predicted, which is- good to know. I found out this morning, when I went up.” She flicked a foot out, irreverently, the side of her boot knocking against a reinforced shockproof case, set underneath the terminal. “They gave me that.”

“Manacles, I presume.”

Loki saw the muscles in her jaw shift.

“Power-supressing cuffs. And- a muzzle.”

Loki blinked- then laughed, genuinely amused.

“Oh, dear. Did I unnerve them that much?”

“Who can say,” she said delicately, visibly simmering with resentment.

Given her reaction, Loki guessed that she knew as well as he did that it wasn’t a necessary precaution- but a restatement of victory, or the casual cruelty endemic to those in power. Loki had witnessed it before; he had felt its burn like a brand, had committed such acts himself, as though mimicking the symptoms could generate the source, or trick the world into believing the lie and defraud it into truth.

Even through his delirium, he had crafted his taunts to sink deep. Rather than demoralise the heroes, Loki suspected he had unsettled and aggravated them- enough for them to want to shut him up.

After Thanos, this barely cut at his pride.

After her, he remembered the value of patience- and the taste of delayed gratification on his tongue, aged like wine.

“I’ve already sabotaged them, a little.” The words were spoken against the rim of her flask, the fan of her fingers screening her mouth from the cameras. “The equivalent of blowing a fuse. Just in case.”

Loki softened.

“My generous darling,” he susurrated, circling the cell and opening the hollow pillar. Retrieving one of the disposable cups set inside, he took a careful sip, identifying it as the chilled matcha latte. “How ever shall I repay your consideration, sweet thing?”

She stilled for a heartbeat- then swivelled towards him, breathing deep and smiling against the pressure gathering around her eyes.

“Tell me about your home.”

The redirection was bright and sudden, a clumsy attempt, like a hysterical laugh masking a sob, seizing upon anything true to hide the desperation that Loki saw welling in her.

He lifted his eyebrows. “My home?”

“Mm-hm.” She cocked her head, fighting to maintain her smile. “I only have the tales from Norse mythology, and I know how limited their veracity is, for one reason or another. And- besides.” Her demeanour settled slightly, easing into something unforced, and comfortably honest. “I’d like to hear about it from you.”

For a long moment, Loki gazed at her through his lashes.

He had known, could have guessed, had heard it implied in the undercurrent of her voice and seen it in the burgeoning light in her eyes- how she had marvelled at the worlds she had seen through the Tesseract, devouring every difference and detail she encountered like a glut of honey from the comb.

Loki knew that he could ink her a distraction with his words alone, construct a palace of paragraphs for her to lose herself in exploring, spin a narrative as light and smooth as silver thread for her to follow. He could draw from his memories, rendering them more perfect, a fairytale breathed to life.

For a moment, Loki considered telling her of the beauty of the Realm Eternal.

He thought of describing the prismatic crystal that was Asgard’s foundation, from which the quartz of the Bifrost had been mined aeons ago- its splintered, denticulated spires swirling with clouds of water vapour and stardust, illuminating the mists like nebulae. He thought of telling her of the glorious citadel of Gladsheim, the royal chartered district encircled by a perfect ring of white stone, walls curving out from crescent of the palace towers- sun-struck and golden, staggered like the flutes of a pipe organ against fantasy-blue skies. He thought of telling her of the deep ornamental waters below the ramparts, cascading from the gilded spouts of the artificial falls, turning sapphire in the vast basins and filtering out into canals and tributary rivers to eventually decant into the sea.

He thought of telling her how the districts of the capital unfolded like leaves from the centre- opening into verdant swatches of cultivated garden and elegant fountains, the mirror-smooth seaways connecting the inner city to the harbour and its outer-world trading markets, the vast plazas and broad stairways overlooked by embassies and guild houses, bakeries and sartors, teahouses and drinking halls. He thought of telling her of the soaring skywalks bridging between towers, the open-air markets thriving on the cobbles below, garlanded with strings of glinting star-lights and the delicate foliage of blooming trees. He thought of describing the richness of the air, the people that was its lifeblood, and their snatches of conversation overheard in the streets- artisans discussing commissions through hasty mouthfuls of street food, clerks lamenting the volume of work for the upcoming festival, children bickering over who got to play the Einherjar and who would be the frost giant in their next game, courtiers confirming their next social engagements on the opera house steps, fishmongers bartering prices for the latest catch, merchants complaining about the unreasonable importation taxes on goods from Nidavellir, Valkyries collecting their wares from the smithy- gossip and grudges, affection and aggravations, scandal and stories, creating a shifting music pervading every corner.

He could give her the illusion that he had loved for millennia, within which he had never truly fit as an intrinsic part.

Or- he could tell her of the outer reaches of the realm, the places of Asgard that held the memory of the ancient wild. Loki could describe the close, shadowed thicket of the forest off the beaten hunting trails, the crags in mountain stone left untraversed since the reign of Bor, the passages hidden behind the thundering veils of great waterfalls, the alcoves and sealed chambers and niches of the palace- and the Bifrost, drawing from the raw magic in Asgard’s roots.

He thought of sketching its vista for her- a great ribbon of crystal, polished and cut smooth, four feet thick and straight as a sword, supported on struts of golden steel in the ocean bedrock. He thought of describing how its strata glinted with strands of brilliant colour, ruby and emerald, peacock and rose- how it lit up with each tread, how you could hear it glow, and under the strum of hooves it sounded like splinters of crystals ringing together underfoot. He thought of telling her how the sea below was so dark that it was almost black, how its falls streamed off the edge into clean mist that would condense into rainclouds- and of the Observatory seated upon an outcropping of rock at the brink of the world, a casement of gold, gazing out into darkened skies marbled with lucent colour, like clouds of frozen light and metallic dust, studded with stars and distant potential.

He thought of telling her how many times he had made the long ride out across the Bifrost, to the Observatory, waiting and waiting and waiting-

Loki thought of telling her everything.

“Tell me about your home,” he said instead. “The places you love.”

When she blinked, drawing herself up slightly in surprise, something settled in Loki’s chest.

Loki knew her past. He wanted her present, as well, and her future- and both were tied to this world.

He had loved Midgard, once, perhaps more deeply than Thor did now. His fascination with the realm and his infatuation with its fragile, resourceful, wildly inventive denizens had slowly wasted into antipathy, tainted by a grief and rage that had nowhere else to run.

Under the circumstances, however- perhaps that regard was worth reclaiming. Whatever she loved, Loki could hold affection for by default. Besides which, Midgard would be a likely theatre of events to come.

“Oh. Ah-” She shifted. “We travelled a lot, when I was a child,” she hedged. “And, now- I rarely stay in the same place for long.”

“And nowhere caught a piece of your heart?”

She hesitated, nails scraping against the flask, teeth slicing across her lower lip.

Carefully, without turning his head, Loki flicked an aggrieved glance towards the upper corner of the cell- to where the cameras were mounted, recently restored and running smoothly.

Keeping his hand low at his side, Loki gave a subtle twist of his fingers, his mana sparking.

The veil of magic swiped across her mouth and lower jaw, cool as rainwater. She startled, instinctively balking against it- before stilling, catching herself, letting the illusion settle.

Reaching up, she traced along her jawline cautiously.

Her eyes met his.

Loki smirked, casting the same illusion on himself.

“It will make it appear as though you are speaking a language they do not know, or cannot comprehend- one even outside the scope of the Allspeak.”

“Gibberish,” she extrapolated dryly, even as tension eased out of her posture like a draining tide.

“As any language is rendered, to those who cannot comprehend it,” he demurred.

“And if no one can comprehend it, then it isn’t a language.”

“Wittgenstein?”

“Language as function. Hence gibberish, my prince.”

Loki grinned, unashamed, and watched her melt into an amused smile.

“In essence,” he admitted, spreading his hands in acquiescence. “But only a true omniglot would recognise it as such, and they are scarce few.”

She hummed softly, two fingers rubbing across her clavicle.

Then she spoke.

“There is a house,” she began tentatively, “in Manhattan. Greenwich Village. My childhood home.”

Loki paused, and sobered slightly, lifting the cardboard cup to his mouth.

“I’m surprised you’re not more upset with me.”

“I am upset,” she said blithely, but he could hear the strain underneath, like the full-body ache that followed a broken fever, “even if I understand. It still hurts. I’m still angry. But I’m also both selfish and circumspect. The latter means that I have more deserving targets for my anger, which means I’m not obliged to feel so bad about the former. I’m sure people would still judge me, though, which is- entirely fair.”

Her shoulder and the corner of her mouth lifted in a rueful shrug, like an unbalanced set of scales.

“If I had lost something, personally- well, this might be a different conversation.”

Loki swallowed the mouthful of matcha.

“I have had little opportunity to admire the city recently,” he said, “but I remember New York City, from my previous excursions to Midgard. A thriving cosmopolitan bastion of trade, culture, and-” Loki paused, pointedly. “Outspokenness.”

She inclined her head in agreement, creasing with fondness.

“Although I am not familiar with specific neighbourhoods,” Loki conceded, deliberately leading.

She smiled faintly.

“Historically, Greenwich Village has been a bohemian neighbourhood. Home of subversives and counterculture. It’s pretty gentrified these days, though. Well, all of Manhattan is, really. And Brooklyn. The starving artists and street trendsetters are being priced out of the neighbourhoods they made stylish in the first place.”

Loki watched her keenly, and the way she began relax and warm through.

“Tell me?”

He knew how much he was asking of her, to open up another segment of her heart to him, and one that had been directly wounded at his hands.

She tensed infinitesimally.

Loki smiled, grimly pleased. Brave, but not careless. Good girl.

But then he watched her forcibly relax, as though regaining her balance on a great precipice.

“The district where you concentrated the Chitauri attack was Midtown- the commercial, business and media centre of Manhattan.” She said carefully. “Department stores, art museums, theatre halls, corporate skyscrapers. Times Square, Central Park, Stark Tower. Greenwich is further south. More residential. The street I grew up on is a row of townhouses, lined with apple blossoms. Walking home, it was like stepping into a film set, of that idealised NYC from the movies. I kept track of the season by the changing of those trees. In early spring, when they trees are in full bloom, it’s like- fresh snow made out of silk. It’s stunning on a clear day, against blue skies. And the fragrance- think of something light and delicate, layered over and over itself until it’s almost overwhelming. Like the chiffon skirts of a ballgown.” She gave a short laugh. “It helps to cover the filth of the city, a little.”

Loki instantly thought of the flowering trees on Asgard, their drifting petals gathering like pooling rain in the cracks of the cobbles.

“The house I grew up in is- old money. Grand Neoclassical elegance. Red brick, carved white stone, blue slate- set with these beautiful leaded casement windows, almost twice as tall as I am, that open into the house like French doors. Some days, I would open up the windows, and just- lean out, into the white noise of the city, and listen. Millions of souls, millions of lives, millions of stories. Like air.”

For the first time, Loki felt his insides twist with a flash of sincere guilt.

In the hours following his recapture, he had resolved that regret was useless. He knew why he had done it, and he knew that he would do it again under the same circumstances.

Yet in her love of her city, Loki could hear an echo of his affection for Asgard.

“My bedroom was on the second floor, on the eastern façade.” She ran her fingers through her hair, eyes distant. “Juliet balconies at every set of windows. A daybed with white cushions. Gossamer drapes, bookshelves built into the walls, a white marble fireplace- this ridiculous Baroque chaise lounge and armchair set, with a low coffee table. I would read there so often that it started to sink the cushions.” She huffed wryly at the memory. “At the top of the house, there’s a massive circular skylight- an oculus, set into the slant of the roof, facing into the sky. My father would meditate up there often, on the mezzanine. When it rained, I would go up there with herbal tea, and we would sit there and talk for a while. I was- incredibly spoiled.” Her expression sank, exuding a wistful nostalgia that curdled at the edges the longer that it held. “Privileged. East Coast monied elite. Private school and music lessons and all I could have asked for, material or experience- including an adventure house to grow up in. Long hallways with hardwood panelling, old secrets in the walls, room after room filled with artifacts from across the world and through the ages. It was like something out of a children’s pulp adventure novel, only more fantastical.”

She spoke of her home with a devotion and a longing, the edges cracked, scraping away at the dazzling roseate lens.

Loki understood it, completely.

“Will you go back?” He asked softly.

“Maybe. Someday,” she said, light and expressionless. “But- not for a long time, I think.”

Loki swallowed. It felt like thawing frost in his throat.

“I’m sorry.”

Her head flicked up to him, slightly startled- before shaking her head.

“No. Don’t apologise. This is not your doing.” She said, resolute. “I knew what I was doing. I knew that I wouldn’t be able to go home again, once I started looking for answers. And I made that decision long before the Tesseract showed me you. So don’t be sorry. I have no regrets. I’m that much closer to those answers, thanks to you. Which means I’m a little closer to going home.”

Answers.

They coalesced on his tongue, thick with mislaid truths- everything that she had left her home for, a dense history, waiting to be spilled out- but arrested by the sudden panicked thought of what she would do, once she knew everything.

“It’s alright.” She interrupted quietly, her gaze steady, effortlessly reading his internal conflict. “I think I know what-”

Her lower lip creased slightly beneath her teeth.

“I know enough. I can wait a little longer.”

“And how long have you been waiting so far?” Loki demanded.

She smiled, but the motion was hesitant, failing before it reached her eyes, as though it might split open an unseen wound if she pressed too far.

“Can you forgive me?”

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[cobra-in-singapour]

Hello! I saw that you wrote for World of Warcraft and was wondering if I could request headcanons for Anduin with a civilian s/o, maybe they are an artist? Some fluff would be great! Thank you in advance

Greetings! I have not forgotten about your request, I apologize for the very, very long delay. I've had some difficult times, but I've decided it's time to get it over with. Please enjoy ;)

Anduin Wrynn x Artist S/O

When you are the king of the Alliance, there is no way to just walk around the city, and it is extremely dangerous. Anduin, although it seems somewhat naive that in principle this is partly true, due to his rather young age, nevertheless, cannot be isolated from society. One way or another, he also wants to communicate with his peers, the huge responsibility placed on his shoulders really suffocates and hangs like a permanent stone on his soul.

One day he just felt a sharp need to forget himself at least for the night and take a break after countless work and a constant sense of danger hanging behind his back. Therefore, young Wrynn, aware of all the dangers and risks, nevertheless escaped from the castle at dusk. Of course, he didn't forget to disguise himself! So this time – no heavy armor and nothing that could attract the eye to him, he took only an ordinary sword from the weapon with him. Is he insane? Perhaps.

And what about s/o? You are just an ordinary resident of Stormwind, although you also have a hard time, at least because you need to earn something for a living, and for an Adventurer you were not strong enough or simply not motivated enough to rush through the fire into danger and eternal wandering. So you decided to devote yourself to art!

And so, having walked almost through the whole city to the stairs leading to the port, you, who were sitting on a high enough point with a good view, already put up an easel and began to arrange paints, brushes, a jar of water and other things for drawing to capture the beautiful moon and majestic ships. You loved painting terribly, because you believed that you would preserve such beauty forever, putting your soul and love into it so that others could always enjoy it. Still, you didn't like the gnome technology that allows you to take photos.

You moved a couple of meters away from your seat to pick up another bag, which was kindly held for you by a guard who agreed to help. Thanking the polite person with a smile, you turned around and froze, looking at the figure in a cloak, carefully examining your workplace. Coming closer, you coughed, noticing with a raised eyebrow how nervously and warily the stranger turned sharply to you, looking down from above with a funny expression on his face. However, you were attracted by his eyes. There was something... warm or innocent about them. Anyway, he didn't look like a typical thief, and what's there to steal from you?

"O-oh, uh, ahem!...I'm sorry, lady, I didn't mean to, uh... well, I'm sorry! I didn't know whose it was, so I came over to look, but I see you're busy, so I-" he looked pretty nervous and maybe confused, but you just smiled amiably, slapping him weakly on the shoulder, "Nah, don't worry ‘bout it, buddy! 'm glad you didn't decide to take my things. You can join me if you want, although I usually paint alone"

Actually, it was your first acquaintance! Anduin was pleasantly surprised by how beautifully you draw in his opinion. He could see with what diligence and love you approach your work, and was fascinated not so much by the landscape as by your actions. And although he was the king of Stormwind, this does not mean that he has already ceased to be just a boy, so basically he just stood a meter away from you, hands folded behind his back and silently watching, so as not to disturb your creative impulse. You were the first one who started talking to him, and he was happy to support your conversation! You turned out to be quite an ordinary person, although something either in your character, or in your desire to "preserve the beauties of the world" still hooked him, interested him. You communicated with him easily and naturally, not even suspecting who was standing next to you, and it was like a breath of fresh air for Anduin.

On the other hand, you found him very cute! You were so engrossed in talking and drawing that you didn't ask his name, but you told him yours. In the company you drew more comfortable and more fun, there was a pleasant friendly atmosphere. And although you didn't consider yourself a psychologist, you carefully pulled some information out of the guy, learning that there was something that was gnawing at him, not allowing him to relax under heavy pressure. Being by nature a calm and kind person, you expressed words of support to him, but decided not to focus on this, continuing a light conversation about art. You even shared with him the dream of traveling the world in order to continue to leave pieces of your soul in the works of the world that you loved so much despite the wars and other horrors lurking deep in Azeroth.

When the drawing was almost finished, and the moon was about to hide behind the horizon, you were already packing your things to go home, when Anduin politely offered to help you move the easel and some things. Of course, you were embarrassed by such a display of attention, but you did not refuse help, although you tried to insist that you could carry it all yourself, but in the end you walked carrying a light bag on your shoulder.

Wrynn had a great time with you, and to be honest, he wanted to meet you again, but he had to come back. Before he left, he promised that he would meet you again and set a meeting place. The young king returned to his chambers before his absence was noticed, he was not even confused by the lack of sleep, because all the next day he was in an upbeat, inspired mood, wanting to finish his business as soon as possible and meet you again.