goldengores

[goldengores]

a stretch of fingers — phalanges straighten and snap into place . the masterpiece has returned .

[goldengores]

have a healthy and happy new year everyone !

[goldengores]

chambercore

[goldengores]

extremely tall cross supremacy

[goldengores]

everyday i have to remind myself that cross is 6’2 and zeus is 5’10 because my pea brain imagines cross as 6’6 ( five inches taller than chamber ) and zeus as 5’8 ( five inches shorter than chamber )

[goldengores]

TELEPORT’S READY.

[goldengores]

happy holidays , all ! please be staying safe and have a wonderful weekend !

[goldengores]

" Hey Chamber. " Cypher stopped in front of the other agent. " I borrowed one of your anchors. They're really interesting, I have to admit. Might take some of systems to my gadgets. Hope you don't mind. " Not that he actually cared much about other's opinion. Just a formality of politeness.

CHAMBER eyes the other agent with a scrutinizing gaze, but dons his million—dollar smile regardless of his rival sentinel’s crude behavior. so used to it as he was — cypher was notorious for . . borrowing other agents’ tools and material without a care in the world.

“ ah, cypher. ” smile widens, more teeth than necessary. a threat. “ how kind of you to inform me . how terribly awful of you to not have consulted me prior to taking what belonged to me. my nanotech is not free. it comes with a price, dear cypher. ”

[goldengores]

SHOW OF THE CENTURY .

WARNING .

do not proceed if the following makes you queasy .

blood , medical malpractice , unlicensed medical procedures , live dissection , kidnapping , murder , torture , death .

these will be the only trigger warnings i have in place from here on out . this is the type of content you are being warned that i write .

the sound of footsteps reverberates off of the confines of metal walls, leather and metal clicking against polished concrete, accompanied by a jubilant hum of anticipation. oh, what a momentous occasion! one of the greatest performances will be exhibited tonight, all that the artist desires is for his audience to give him is utmost attention and utter silence, and to be revered and awed and bathed in the admiration the people have to give him.

that is the only price he asks for.

fingers gloved by black latex feel against the wall as he walks, reaching a risen plane and he flicks a switch on, spotlight shining down on a figure tied on a chair, writhing against the ropes that secure him in place. nearly nude, a dignity given only covering nether regions, blindfolded and gagged, legs tied onto legs, a perfect composition of a hostage in need of a savior.

there will be no savior. only a dead god whose gentle hands adore his subjects. “my beloved muse.. i hope you weren’t waiting too long.” a serene tone that did not reflect the severity of the situation. his beloved muse had been sitting, languishing away in the stygian atmosphere, no songs of comfort and no sound, no light, no life. nearly entombed in the house of steel. chamber approaches the bound man, fingers curling around a quivering chin as he tilts a teary-eyed face upwards to coo quietly, “how splendid you look. are these tears for me ? you’re so thoughtful. this is why i adore you.”

his free hand reaches down into a pouch, revealing a syringe as he lifts his hand to present it in front of wide eyes. “you have behaved well. let me give you a gift.” with a soft smile, chamber lowers the needle to a neck that would not stop moving, leading him to grasp onto hair roughly to keep that damned head in place as he injects his darling subject with a sedative.

a sedative that leaves the other conscious.

now, where should he begin ? the head. he tosses the hollow syringe aside ungracefully, glass shattering on the concrete, uncaring of the sharp mess it has made. his subject now sits limp, unmoving but seeing all, watching as chamber picks up an object from the floor. a metal rod with a design at the end — a brand. his free palm begins to glow as it generates high temperatures, and he presses the flat of the brand against the superheated surface, a hiss of steam when metal comes into contact.

only when the marksman acknowledges the metal illuminating does he lift the rod from his palm, hand cooling down as he busies himself with pressing the brand into his subject’s forehead, rising from skin to reveal that the branding is his own logo, the eye of the dead god. how fitting. how cruel. setting the brand aside, back onto the floor, he once again reaches back into the pouch he retrieved his initial syringe from and brandishes a scalpel.

he grasps one of the limp arms, letting the tip of the blade dig into skin, making a sliding motion to create a clean cut from wrist to forearm. methodically, he carves into the skin, lifting pieces off like if it were cured ham, as if he were planning to create a charcuterie board from skin shavings and tears of a poor sod. but it bores him, shortly after making a bleeding mess of an arm.

so he follows with the makeshift surgery.

carving into still flesh, the blade slides too smoothly through layers of skin and tissue, not yet breaching through to the body cavity as it glides over the center of a ribcage, down to the navel. then, the blade is lifted only to create parallel lines perpendicular to the initial cut, one atop the chest, one under the belly button. a wretched window to a grotesque fascination of discovering the human anatomy. he tilts the scalpel at an angle, now, slicing into the fascia, the connective tissue that separated outer flesh from the core, gently peeling the layer outwards, opening one side of the window to bone and inner organs. he does the same to the other flap that lied nearly untouched.

there’s far too much blood on his hands now, he observes, and squats down to wipe the ferrous fluid onto the concrete, beginning to paint the formation of an eye. when he deems it to be clean enough, he returns to observing inner organs as they lived, a sick fascination at their movements in the cold air, despite its cage of flesh no longer protecting them from foreign objects and harm. his free hand digs into the mass of organs, the scalpel assisting him, cutting free a kidney into his hand. with a swift hand, he cuts away the sink the gagged a mouth, scalpel held away in a closed fist as he wrenches the mouth open with his forefinger, shoving the kidney into the oral cavity, poking and prodding to shove it as far as it allowed, fingers curled as it lodges the organ to the back of his subject’s mouth, barely fitting into the throat.

once he is satisfied, chamber returns to the opening, clawing in to remove the large intestine, slicing it free from the appendix and rectum, pulling it out and admiring his butchering work, the pink of the intestine glistening with a shine under the spotlight. he hums, low in his throat, and with a raising motion, lovingly places it around a ever slowly paling neck, tucking it as if it were a scarf with murmurs of how his muse should be looking good, as if they were to be shown off to the world like chamber does with his own, true beloved.

speaking of the devil, his phone rings, and a frown dances on his lips as he considers whether or not to reach for the distracting thing and answer it, or to launch it against the wall. he chooses the former, and with a bloody, gloved hand it plucks the device from his back pocket, eyeing the screen as it read the name of his love. “mon coeur,” he starts after he answers, propping his phone onto his shoulder as he keeps it tucked in there, between his cheek and a raised shoulder. tone sweet and loving and utterly unfitting of the acts he currently commits, he speaks to his beloved while sticking his fingers into the crevices of a human’s internal mechanisms which quiver less so than when he had initially carved his muse open. “you know not to distract me while i’m working, amour.”

grasping at ends, he spreads out the small intestines, lying it out in winding patterns as the organ is draped across still thighs. “i miss you too.” he’s nudging at the intestines, gradually pressing them into a neat square, the pink a contrast against pallid pallor. he continues his conversation with his unknowing lover, this time reaching for the second kidney, a motion repeated and stuffing a slack mouth with the other half.

next comes the liver, placed on top of a foundation created by the small intestines, burgundy against pink. then, the pancreas, flipping it in his hands as if he were examining a new knife, if said knife were dull or sharp enough to proceed using it with surgical precision. it is placed next to the liver, resting once again on the coil of intestines. the removal of the gallbladder is next, musing silently to himself as he realizes that the organ is a pale blue, compared to the pink that it is surrounded by when housed still. he sets it down to join the mass, and finally, he removes the spleen to finalize the second layer of this cruel pyramid of blood and flesh.

“it’s going to be a bit before i go home,” with a precise hand, chamber pierces through flesh in the entry point, grasping past the lungs and onto a still beating heart, tearing it from its confines without grace or tact, “don’t wait for me, oui ?” he’s worming his hand back out, completing the improvised pyramid by topping it with the final act of death. “je t’aime, mon tresor. i’ll see you later.” the call ends, and his phone is tucked away safe.

he compliments himself at the work he’s done, but he is not quite finished yet. he hasn’t touched the ribcage. that won’t do. a harsh hand presses the tip of the scalpel into bone, pressure against white, chamber engraves his initials onto a sternum, a permanence that will last until decay settles in. it’s a slow thing, fine curves of both letters slowly being made way for in the eyes of the dead god. when he is finished, he finally deems his work complete and caresses a hand over ribs and feels the inscription through gloved fingers.

discarding his instrument of wretched dissection, the gunsmith takes a moment to himself, willing his racing heart to still ( careful, vincent, they might hear your joy and happiness ), willing for the white hot in his veins to dissolve and settle, all the while taking in the details of his art. slowly, he raises his hands and applauds to no one but himself, a giggle bubbling out of his throat. oh, how happy he is! he cannot help but express his glee in pleased laughter.

“merci, merci! i thank you all for your time and for coming out to see the show tonight!” chamber announces and bows, as if he were addressing an audience. as if there was an audience to address — this was no auditorium, there was no applause. he bows in front of his subject, sitting there so pretty and still, decorated in blood and organs positioned in a disgusting, vile work of art. such beauty in the creation of a cadaver. the marksman steps back, now, out of the spotlight that shone on the seated body, that shone on the eye painted on the concrete, the blood slowly drying out. “please, stick around. i have a final surprise for my biggest fans.”

the sound of footsteps once again resume, a hand lifts to flick a second switch once found, and the room is illuminated by several more spotlights, revealing cages with bound subjects ( scientists, oh my ) in them, all tied and eyes wide in dread and fear alike. a few have fainted and a few have tears streaming down their cheeks as they slowly begin to resign to their fate.

“the show is not over!”

[goldengores]

is chamber shippable ? yes . absolutely . he is gay .

[goldengores]

SHOW OF THE CENTURY .

WARNING .

do not proceed if the following makes you queasy .

blood , medical malpractice , unlicensed medical procedures , live dissection , kidnapping , murder , torture , death .

these will be the only trigger warnings i have in place from here on out . this is the type of content you are being warned that i write .

the sound of footsteps reverberates off of the confines of metal walls, leather and metal clicking against polished concrete, accompanied by a jubilant hum of anticipation. oh, what a momentous occasion! one of the greatest performances will be exhibited tonight, all that the artist desires is for his audience to give him is utmost attention and utter silence, and to be revered and awed and bathed in the admiration the people have to give him.

that is the only price he asks for.

fingers gloved by black latex feel against the wall as he walks, reaching a risen plane and he flicks a switch on, spotlight shining down on a figure tied on a chair, writhing against the ropes that secure him in place. nearly nude, a dignity given only covering nether regions, blindfolded and gagged, legs tied onto legs, a perfect composition of a hostage in need of a savior.

there will be no savior. only a dead god whose gentle hands adore his subjects. “my beloved muse.. i hope you weren’t waiting too long.” a serene tone that did not reflect the severity of the situation. his beloved muse had been sitting, languishing away in the stygian atmosphere, no songs of comfort and no sound, no light, no life. nearly entombed in the house of steel. chamber approaches the bound man, fingers curling around a quivering chin as he tilts a teary-eyed face upwards to coo quietly, “how splendid you look. are these tears for me ? you’re so thoughtful. this is why i adore you.”

his free hand reaches down into a pouch, revealing a syringe as he lifts his hand to present it in front of wide eyes. “you have behaved well. let me give you a gift.” with a soft smile, chamber lowers the needle to a neck that would not stop moving, leading him to grasp onto hair roughly to keep that damned head in place as he injects his darling subject with a sedative.

a sedative that leaves the other conscious.

now, where should he begin ? the head. he tosses the hollow syringe aside ungracefully, glass shattering on the concrete, uncaring of the sharp mess it has made. his subject now sits limp, unmoving but seeing all, watching as chamber picks up an object from the floor. a metal rod with a design at the end — a brand. his free palm begins to glow as it generates high temperatures, and he presses the flat of the brand against the superheated surface, a hiss of steam when metal comes into contact.

only when the marksman acknowledges the metal illuminating does he lift the rod from his palm, hand cooling down as he busies himself with pressing the brand into his subject’s forehead, rising from skin to reveal that the branding is his own logo, the eye of the dead god. how fitting. how cruel. setting the brand aside, back onto the floor, he once again reaches back into the pouch he retrieved his initial syringe from and brandishes a scalpel.

he grasps one of the limp arms, letting the tip of the blade dig into skin, making a sliding motion to create a clean cut from wrist to forearm. methodically, he carves into the skin, lifting pieces off like if it were cured ham, as if he were planning to create a charcuterie board from skin shavings and tears of a poor sod. but it bores him, shortly after making a bleeding mess of an arm.

so he follows with the makeshift surgery.

carving into still flesh, the blade slides too smoothly through layers of skin and tissue, not yet breaching through to the body cavity as it glides over the center of a ribcage, down to the navel. then, the blade is lifted only to create parallel lines perpendicular to the initial cut, one atop the chest, one under the belly button. a wretched window to a grotesque fascination of discovering the human anatomy. he tilts the scalpel at an angle, now, slicing into the fascia, the connective tissue that separated outer flesh from the core, gently peeling the layer outwards, opening one side of the window to bone and inner organs. he does the same to the other flap that lied nearly untouched.

there’s far too much blood on his hands now, he observes, and squats down to wipe the ferrous fluid onto the concrete, beginning to paint the formation of an eye. when he deems it to be clean enough, he returns to observing inner organs as they lived, a sick fascination at their movements in the cold air, despite its cage of flesh no longer protecting them from foreign objects and harm. his free hand digs into the mass of organs, the scalpel assisting him, cutting free a kidney into his hand. with a swift hand, he cuts away the sink the gagged a mouth, scalpel held away in a closed fist as he wrenches the mouth open with his forefinger, shoving the kidney into the oral cavity, poking and prodding to shove it as far as it allowed, fingers curled as it lodges the organ to the back of his subject’s mouth, barely fitting into the throat.

once he is satisfied, chamber returns to the opening, clawing in to remove the large intestine, slicing it free from the appendix and rectum, pulling it out and admiring his butchering work, the pink of the intestine glistening with a shine under the spotlight. he hums, low in his throat, and with a raising motion, lovingly places it around a ever slowly paling neck, tucking it as if it were a scarf with murmurs of how his muse should be looking good, as if they were to be shown off to the world like chamber does with his own, true beloved.

speaking of the devil, his phone rings, and a frown dances on his lips as he considers whether or not to reach for the distracting thing and answer it, or to launch it against the wall. he chooses the former, and with a bloody, gloved hand it plucks the device from his back pocket, eyeing the screen as it read the name of his love. “mon coeur,” he starts after he answers, propping his phone onto his shoulder as he keeps it tucked in there, between his cheek and a raised shoulder. tone sweet and loving and utterly unfitting of the acts he currently commits, he speaks to his beloved while sticking his fingers into the crevices of a human’s internal mechanisms which quiver less so than when he had initially carved his muse open. “you know not to distract me while i’m working, amour.”

grasping at ends, he spreads out the small intestines, lying it out in winding patterns as the organ is draped across still thighs. “i miss you too.” he’s nudging at the intestines, gradually pressing them into a neat square, the pink a contrast against pallid pallor. he continues his conversation with his unknowing lover, this time reaching for the second kidney, a motion repeated and stuffing a slack mouth with the other half.

next comes the liver, placed on top of a foundation created by the small intestines, burgundy against pink. then, the pancreas, flipping it in his hands as if he were examining a new knife, if said knife were dull or sharp enough to proceed using it with surgical precision. it is placed next to the liver, resting once again on the coil of intestines. the removal of the gallbladder is next, musing silently to himself as he realizes that the organ is a pale blue, compared to the pink that it is surrounded by when housed still. he sets it down to join the mass, and finally, he removes the spleen to finalize the second layer of this cruel pyramid of blood and flesh.

“it’s going to be a bit before i go home,” with a precise hand, chamber pierces through flesh in the entry point, grasping past the lungs and onto a still beating heart, tearing it from its confines without grace or tact, “don’t wait for me, oui ?” he’s worming his hand back out, completing the improvised pyramid by topping it with the final act of death. “je t’aime, mon tresor. i’ll see you later.” the call ends, and his phone is tucked away safe.

he compliments himself at the work he’s done, but he is not quite finished yet. he hasn’t touched the ribcage. that won’t do. a harsh hand presses the tip of the scalpel into bone, pressure against white, chamber engraves his initials onto a sternum, a permanence that will last until decay settles in. it’s a slow thing, fine curves of both letters slowly being made way for in the eyes of the dead god. when he is finished, he finally deems his work complete and caresses a hand over ribs and feels the inscription through gloved fingers.

discarding his instrument of wretched dissection, the gunsmith takes a moment to himself, willing his racing heart to still ( careful, vincent, they might hear your joy and happiness ), willing for the white hot in his veins to dissolve and settle, all the while taking in the details of his art. slowly, he raises his hands and applauds to no one but himself, a giggle bubbling out of his throat. oh, how happy he is! he cannot help but express his glee in pleased laughter.

“merci, merci! i thank you all for your time and for coming out to see the show tonight!” chamber announces and bows, as if he were addressing an audience. as if there was an audience to address — this was no auditorium, there was no applause. he bows in front of his subject, sitting there so pretty and still, decorated in blood and organs positioned in a disgusting, vile work of art. such beauty in the creation of a cadaver. the marksman steps back, now, out of the spotlight that shone on the seated body, that shone on the eye painted on the concrete, the blood slowly drying out. “please, stick around. i have a final surprise for my biggest fans.”

the sound of footsteps once again resume, a hand lifts to flick a second switch once found, and the room is illuminated by several more spotlights, revealing cages with bound subjects ( scientists, oh my ) in them, all tied and eyes wide in dread and fear alike. a few have fainted and a few have tears streaming down their cheeks as they slowly begin to resign to their fate.

“the show is not over!”

[goldengores]

i’ll get around to not being lazy and write a page about his less human abilities , but a simple rundown is this :

chamber is a dual radiance inhuman , with an affinity for both metal and heat . he is a marksman and weapons designer . he is able to generate any amount of heat from the surface of his body , the highest recorded temperature being 2047°C .

his defense system includes a matter—warping trap named ‘ trademark ’ , which is connected to the nanotech of his metal radiance , and will inform him when an enemy trips it . it creates a slow field in a radius .

he is hardly ever seen using his metal radiance , much less his heat radiance . his gunsmithing was a hobby picked up before he became a radiant . metal manipulation he will use on an occasion to assist . his body consists of an equilibrium of gold and human flesh . he is aging much slower due to this .

if he uses his metal manipulation in a large scale , such as uprooting a skyscraper , it will disturb the equilibrium . if used in large scale and in quick succession , there will be more gold in his body as it begins to convert his flesh into gold . he will have to rest without using his radiance for long periods of time to restore this equilibrium . if injured , his body will fill in the gaps of flesh with gold unless he consciously prevents it , and it will eventually convert back to flesh in the healing process . he cannot use his metal manipulation as it will increase his pain and halt the healing . he has high pain tolerance .

he is a sharpshooter and an assassin , there is nothing he can’t kill . the following are abilities shown in his reveal trailer however are unexplained or nanotech and he merely refuses to explain how it is possible .

multi—dimensional travel . the conversion of one’s body into flame before rematerializing , teleportation . pocket dimension .

it is canon until proven otherwise that he uses technology that he created to travel across dimensions . due to the nature of his personal nanotech and character trailer combined with context given , he seems to constantly travel between two earths to converse with his mirror self . it is canon that there are more than two earths and that him traversing to an earth other than the two main ones in the valorant universe is not far-fetched , which is why it is simple to ease him into other verses .

again , this is a RADIANT portrayal of chamber , he will have radiant abilities ( heat + metal manipulation ) .

this man is bloodthirsty in nature . he is capable of committing a genocide and covering it up . it is obvious that he is too clean .

[ prototype ] information :

chamber is an information broker at worst . the man runs an underground web of analysts and cyber terrorists as his main business , with a front of ‘ deadeye corporation ’ , a weapons manufacturing company . he has several properties across manhattan however his main is a penthouse located within times square .

he is an elusive creature with a contingency for every plan . his tracks do not exist . a ghost in the fog .

[goldengores]

↪     𝑫𝑰𝑹𝑬 𝑺𝑰𝑻𝑼𝑨𝑻𝑰𝑶𝑵𝑺  .    (   a  collection  of  dire / urgent situation  sentence  &  action  starters .   adjust  phrasing  +  ʳᵉᵛᵉʳˢᵉ  as  necessary .   )

𝐃𝐈��𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄 :

hide .   hide now .

shh !!  there’s somebody in the house .

i’m not gonna hurt you !  see ?  look ,  i’m putting down the  [ weapon ] .

[ name ] ,  what were you thinking ?!

you’re being followed ,  pretend you know me .

stop , stop !  just put the  [ weapon ]  down !

drive ,  just drive fast !

you seriously think i could’ve done this ?

can you walk ?  i need you to walk for me ,  okay ?

let me handle it ,  just go !

what was your plan ??  you could’ve gotten yourself killed !

you’re just going to leave me here ?!

[ name ] ,  can you hear me ?  get out of there !

you knew and you didn’t tell me ?!

don’t you know how dangerous this is ?

you’re not going to shoot me .

move and you die .

i’m gonna come back for you ,  do you hear me ?

we have to stop the bleeding .

can you see how many fingers i’m holding up ?

i just want to go home !

don’t move a fucking muscle .

if it weren’t for you ,  we wouldn’t be in this mess .

i almost DIED back there ,  and you’re laughing ?

you’re only making this worse for yourself .

you think this is a joke ?

if i go down ,  i want you to run .

we’re gonna die ,  so what’s the point ?

this was the ONE thing i told you not to do .

i can’t promise we’re going to make it out of here .

where’s your first - aid kit ?!

just calm down and find your phone ,  we need to call the police .

someone’s been stalking me .

just listen to me for once !

i didn’t think you had it in you .

put the gun down ,  and kick it over here .

we can’t stick around here ,  let’s go .

kiss me before we die .

do whatever you need to do ,  hurry .

i can’t breathe ,  i can’t -

please ,  please  -  let me in ,  there’s someone -

i’m gonna give you one last chance .

you have to believe me ,  i didn’t do this !

run ,  and don’t look back .

this is real ,  i’m real .  look at me .

take this .  it’ll keep you safe .

follow my instructions very closely .

put your hands where i can see them .

you can’t just let me die !

i think  …  i think i need a doctor .

we need to get out of here ,  come on .

no ,  this isn’t it .  we’re getting you out of this .

you panicking is not going to help us right now .

𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 :

[ GETAWAY ]  sender acts as a getaway driver for receiver .

[ MEDIC ]  sender arrives on receiver’s doorstep ,  badly bleeding .

[ HIDE ]  sender and receiver hide from a threat together .

[ HUSH ]  sender clasps a hand over receiver’s mouth to silence them .

[ DRAG ]  sender physically hauls receiver to safety .

[ RIGHTS ]  sender calls receiver from a police precinct .

[ REALITY ]  sender helps receiver through an episode of derealization .

[ SHELTER ]  sender and receiver must find shelter from a storm  .

[ ARMED ]  sender brandishes a  [ gun / knife ]  at receiver .

[ CRASH ]  sender and receiver survive a  [ car / bike ]  crash together .

[ SEARCH ]  sender barges into the hospital demanding to see receiver .

[ BACKUP ]   sender calls receiver panicking after committing a crime .

[ CORNERED ]  sender menacingly backs receiver into a corner .

[ UNEXPECTED ]  receiver comes home to find sender already inside .

[ BREATHE ]  sender helps receiver get through a panic attack .

[ BADGE ]  sender and receiver flee from the cops together .

[ STRANDED ]  sender and receiver become stranded in the woods .

[ EMBRACE ]  sender kisses receiver thinking it’ll be the last time .

[ STRANGER ]  sender can’t remember who receiver is after an injury .

[ TOKEN ]  sender gives receiver a lucky charm before they go into battle .

[ CHOICE ]  receiver has to choose between sparing their own life or the sender’s .

[goldengores]

YOU WANT TO PLAY? LET’S PLAY.

[goldengores]

hieu minh nguyen, from “staying quiet” / anders krisár, the birth of us (boy), the birth of us (girl)

[goldengores]

🌙  *  ―     𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐄𝐒  (  prompts for the five senses. add [reversed] to reverse the action. feel free to change wording as needed & add details )

𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇.

[ 𝐒𝐎𝐅𝐓 ] ― sender wraps a soft blanket around receiver’s shoulders [ 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐊 ] ― sender and receiver fall into bed together on silk sheets [ 𝐏𝐔𝐋𝐋 ] ― sender pulls receiver’s hair ( gently / hard ) [ 𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐑 ] ― sender strokes receiver’s hair [ 𝐁𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐇 ] ― sender brushes receiver’s hair [ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐓 ] ― sender paints a picture onto part of receiver’s body ( specify what & where ) [ 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐄 ] ― sender traces their fingertips over receiver’s body [ 𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐑 ] ― sender traces a scar on receiver’s body [ 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐃 ] ― sender reaches out to hold receiver’s hand [ 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐒��𝐈𝐏 ] ― sender worships receiver’s body

𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄.

[ 𝐔𝐍𝐔𝐒𝐔𝐀𝐋 ] ― sender feeds receiver something they’ve never tried before ( specify what ) [ 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐑 ] ― sender feeds receiver something sour ( specify what ) [ 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 ] ― sender feeds receiver something sweet ( specify what ) [ 𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐂𝐄 ] ― sender feeds receiver something spicy ( specify what ) [ 𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑 ] ― sender kisses receiver to taste the lingering flavour of what they ate or drank on their lips ( specify what ) [ 𝐂𝐎𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐑 ] ― sender bites receiver hard enough to draw blood [ 𝐔𝐍𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐋 ] ― sender feeds receiver soup when they’ve fallen ill [ 𝐃𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐊 ] ― sender makes receiver a cocktail to try [ 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐇 ] ― sender cooks receiver their favourite meal [ 𝐓𝐑𝐘 ] ―  sender gives receiver a taste of what they’re cooking / baking for their opinion

𝐒𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓.

[ 𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐃 ] ― sender blindfolds receiver [ 𝐑𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐄 ] ― sender and receiver see each other again after a period of being apart [ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄 ] ― sender notices something different about receiver ( injury / haircut / tattoo / piercing / etc ) [ 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐋 ] ― sender greets receiver in formal partywear ( feel free to add detail ) [ 𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐒 ] ― sender takes receiver to see lanterns in the sky [ 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐒 ] ― sender and receiver lay under the stars to stargaze [ 𝐆𝐀𝐙𝐄 ] ― sender and receiver lock eyes across the room [ 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐖 ] ― sender and receiver see a shadow move out the corner of their eye [ 𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐍 ] ― sender and receive watch as something burns ( candles / a building / a campfire / etc ) [ 𝐅𝐈𝐒𝐇 ] ― sender takes receiver to the aquarium to watch the sea life [ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐊 ] ― sender recognises receiver at a masquerade party

𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃.

[ 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐂 ] ― sender puts on the radio to listen to music with receiver [ ��𝐋𝐀𝐘 ] ― sender plays receiver their favourite song on an instrument ( specify what ) [ 𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐍 ] ― sender and receiver are in bed together while rain lashes against the windows / tent / etc [ 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐑 ] ― sender whispers something in receiver’s ear ( specify what ) [ 𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 ] ― sender asks receiver for a dance upon hearing a song [ 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐀𝐍𝐘 ] ― sender and receiver hear a sound when they should be alone ( footsteps / creaking floorboards / a scream / etc ) [ 𝐇𝐔𝐌 ] ― sender hums a lullaby to lull receiver to sleep [ 𝐌𝐔𝐅𝐅𝐋𝐄𝐃 ] ― sender comforts a temporally deaf receiver after a loud sound ( gunshot / explosion / etc ) [ 𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐌 ] ― sender calms receiver down from a panic attack in a loud place [ 𝐀𝐅𝐀𝐑 ] ― sender and receiver hear a muffled sound from another room / outside ( music / people / creature / etc ) [ 𝐒𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐖 ] ― sender hears receiver crying and approaches comfort them

𝐒𝐌𝐄𝐋𝐋.

[ 𝐁𝐀𝐓𝐇 ] ― sender puts a scented bath bomb into receiver’s bath [ 𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐋𝐄 ] ― sender lights a scented candle for receiver [ 𝐅𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 ] ― sender puts perfume / aftershave on receiver’s ( wrist / neck / cheek ) [ 𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐓 ] ― sender inhales receiver’s scent [ 𝐂𝐎𝐎𝐊 ] ― sender is drawn to the kitchen by receiver’s cooking [ 𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐒 ] ― sender steals an item of receiver’s clothes because it smells like them [ 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑 ] ― sender notices receiver smells of their shampoo / shower gel [ 𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐒 ] ― sender gives receiver flowers [ 𝐖𝐀𝐒𝐇 ] ― sender helps clean receiver after a long day / stressful situation [ 𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐘 ] ― sender and receiver walk through the sewers to escape capture / avoid detection / chase someone [ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐀𝐆𝐄 ] ― sender massages receiver with a scented oil

[goldengores]

knees weak , eyes heavy

uni is beating my ass rn