#heh...just a glimpse into my dark mind.... :)

[mr-soot]

HEH… i guess you can say it was never meant to be…………………….. just a glimpse into my DARK and TWISTED mind……. heh……………………..…………

chat i went to do my t shot today and my syringe fucking exploded What. t splattered all over my floor and i had to clean it up with a rag everything SUCKS!!

[merobuns]

take this game away from me

[babymadeofbones]

it would probably feel so good to be found dead here

[jadelemonadee]

sometimes i really wanna see like an evil and fucked up seabury like the one we have is greetings from mary bell township but what if we made him vampire culture

[candiedcybug]

the friend group when the most jaw dropping toe curling heart stopping mind bending guy that Would Kill You If They Got The Chance appears in any media ever ( im justin bieber )

[paperstreetlocal]

assorted garbage ft my sisters drawing

[simp-ly-writes]

Reborn From Ashes

─────── · · Dreams of Dragons (pt.3)

PAIRING: Daemon Targaryen x Fem!Targaryen!Reader

SUMMARY: Realities collide when an unknown man calls you his princess and chaos ensues. A great storm has taken over Dragonstone as an equal one starts to brew in your mind. Will you listen to this man that speaks of destiny? Or will you try and fight it?

TAGS: alternate universe, canon divergence, no use of y/n, second person perspective, female pronouns used, coarse language, protective!Daemon, angst, blood and gore, hurt/comfort, soulmates, time travel, targ-cest, engine-translated high valyrian, not beta read. MASTERLIST | TAGLIST REQUEST | WORDCOUNT: 3,468 | PRIOR | NEXT A/N: Happy after work chapter! Sorry for the heavy lore dumping in advance heh...

─────── · ·

WHAT HAS MY LIFE BECOME?, was all you could think when waking up on your cot in Dragonstone. A great fog had taken over the island, your head fuzzy as you stumbled forwards out of your tent- your knees slipping into the mud as you cursed underneath a breath.

A hand extends to you, yet another glimpse of sparkling silver has you squinting thinking it to be the sun as you grab their hand to stand. But you soon come to realize it is the chain they wear that glimmers so brightly and you can do little to conceal your gasp at the three headed-dragon crest as they smile down at your reaction.

"It has been some time since I last saw a silver sister," the bald man notes, head tilting towards the fortress where many teams were already at work underneath canopies and tarps within the courtyard, you nod and follow behind his steps in order to take in more of his appearance.

The wind was bitter cold, your cheeks hurting from being pelting of rain and your outer shell of a raincoat was already soaked through, it was as if the sea was down from the skies as much as its waves roared up the cliff face- and the man in front of you practically skipped through the onslaught- as if in his own element.

Feeling your gaze, he looks back and bows his head, "having troubles, silver-haired?" You take his words as an insult, "I can assure you the hair has nothing to do with my age," you fire back watching as his eyes sparkle with humour that he soon stifles before he holds open a heavy oak door, allowing you to walk in first before it slams behind you both, the wind also trying to find peace indoors from the rain.

The entrance hall is empty of people yet the space is filled with the echoes of every sound you make from the vaulted ceilings. Large and imposing trusses hold dark metal chandeliers forgotten to time as artificial lamps brighten up the space. Everything appeared too bright and sterile under the cold lighting, you missed the warmth of open flames and candles alike warming your skin... among other things, you shake your head of the nonsense and turn back to the bald man to find him already looking at you whilst leaning against a carved stone pillar that depicts dragons and native fauna.

"Have we met before?" you question, walking closer whilst trying not to shiver as the cold water had made its way down to your bones. "Have we?" he echoes back, standing up straight- his stance appearing confident yet his eyes are cast to the floor and on your muddied boots.

"Why speak in riddles when we can speak in plain truth?" you counter before shaking your head, why do I even bother?, "who is your superior? Look at me and tell me," you demand, feeling around your pockets for your phone to call whatever manager misplaced their rogue trainee.

"I am meant to be here just as much as you are," he ignores your demands, looking over your shoulder and up the grand stone staircase, "and that means more than you think."

"More than I think? Well, I spent my life studying my ancestors in order to be here and you dare ask- no, tell me my position? I belong here," you cross your arms, partially to warm yourself, the other to guard your heart that feels attacked.

"You are right, you do belong here, I never said otherwise-" you shake your head, turning around to walk upstairs, hand moving to the radio on your hip to page your team. You listen as the man follows behind you, eyes curiously looking over your frame before you stop feeling as they slam into your back before apologizing, "my princess, you must forgive me." And you swear that by sheer force alone your radio crackles- threatening to snap in your hand, "I'm sorry?"

And you receive no response, turning on your step to stare down as he does his best to kneel before you on the uneven steps, "It was never my thought nor intention to offend you, my princess. I ask of your good heart to forgive my transgressions."

You begin to look around panicked, phone, radio, watch, lights... I cannot be back in the past.... can I? You slowly lower yourself to sit on the steps, any rage you once felt had succumbed to the overwhelming fear you felt, am I losing my mind? And so you whisper softly enough for only you both to hear, "but I am not a princess?"

The silence that follows is heavy, you watch as they stiffen, hands gripping the stone steps as do your hands as if competing who would be first to draw blood in their anxieties. "May I speak freely, your highness?" Their tone equally soft as you nod, unsure of your own voice.

"I am an Elder of the Dragonkeepers. I have devoted myself to the old gods and to my kings and their dragons alike. I have been tasked by those above us in a test of my devotion to guide you back on your path..." the man takes a long pause, hesitantly meeting their eyes with yours, "...if you will allow me to?"

And without a second thought you answer, "I think you have the wrong person." You stand, taking two steps at a time, moving past the second level and up to the third and then the fourth.

The man follows like a shadow, "You have dreams, do you not?" You trip, hissing as you slam your face into the uncut stone edge of the stair. A gasp begins to form at your temple, blood seeps down your cheek like a tear.

You hiss at the pain, standing you wobble, gripping the bannister for strength before continuing upwards the seemingly never-ending staircase as tears begin to form in your eyes. "You have read the tapestry, have you not?"

You grab the bannister this time, pulling yourself up as you stagger up the remaining steps and walk through an arched door frame and into a dark hall seemingly yet to be explored. Cobwebs act as barriers that you step through and walk over, you swear to hear the scurrying of rats near your feet yet nothing will keep you from getting away from this dragonkeeper.

"The Rogue Prince has threatened his brother, your father for-"

"He is not my father!" you whip around and yell, "I am not a princess, I am a scholar, I am no one's niece, guide, nor bride!" Your hands curl up into fists, you swear to look manic, dressed in blood and split skin, soaking wet down to the bone.

The Dragonkeeper stands still at the end of the hall, his back basked in sunlight, "please, let me help you understand-"

"You don't understand! I was never meant for this... this insanity! You are only a figment of my imagination, this whole thing is just some large prank, right?" You reach for your radio to speak yet find it dead in your hand, dropping it to the floor, kicking it away in your frustration.

The Dragonkeeper takes slow steps forwards, joining you in the darkness as you fall to your knees, shivering. They offer the cloak off their back, wrapping it around your shoulders as you clench the cloth tightly, knuckles turning white. "The eldest princess was beloved by not only her parents but by the people. It was a great travesty thought to be punishment of the gods when she died unexpectedly in her early years."

You look towards the floorboards, counting every nail you see as the Dragonkeeper takes a seat in front of you, their palms sat in their lap, a silent ask for you to take them as they close their eyes, recounting the tale as is they were reliving through it in their thoughts. "Her body was never found in time for the burial. Some said that she was fed to the dragons for her weak blood, others that witches kidnapped her... but it was us, the Dragonkeepers, that took the child and presented her to the old gods on behalf of King Viserys."

You too, close your eyes, hesitantly reaching forwards for their palms, warm and weathered skin greet you with a soft squeeze of reassurance. "The King knew of a prophecy that had been passed down generations of Targaryens, knew that his daughter he found asleep more than out playing with the rest of the children, who spoke of events way before her time who could see the future in many instances, had to be part of this prophecy, and so he begged and pleaded for your safety and for many years it was unknown if our pleas were heard..."

─────── · ·

Soon the blackness of your eyelids became painted with a vivid scene. Encompassed by black stone walls that formed a colosseum was a fiery red dragon, Caraxes! you yell in a voice unlike your own. You look down to see your long black garbs on fire, you hastily pat the flames out with your hand as your other grips a quarterstaff.

The Dragon cries, its neck swings side to side, trying to be rid itself of its chains. "lykiri Caraxes! lykiri! (calm! calm!)," you shout, trying to walk towards the dragon only to find a wing coming down like a wall that sends you crashing back against the black stone.

You watch as many other Dragonkeepers come forwards, shouting commands, other throwing food, treats and toys towards the creature yet nothing seems to calm down the beast as it roars that soon fall to whimpers as a figure emerges in dark armour that blends into the walls.

Their helmet is held underneath their arm as they confidently stride towards the enraged dragon without second thought, their hand outstretched as it touches the scaled muzzle, closing their eyes with a heavy sigh as smoke exhales from the dragon's nostrils. It is then you notice their face to be covered in blood and that their red hair was unnatural, silver stained by blood.

"Nyke rȳbagon aōha ōdres keskydoso ñuhoso ziry feels kempa isse ñuha prūmia, nyke miss zirȳla tolī, (I hear your pain the same way it feels heavy in my heart, I miss her too)," the man you now know to the Prince Daemon speaks to his dragon, consoling it. The rest of the Dragonkeepers bow their head yet you hide behind a pillar to hear the rest of the conversation.

"Kessa māzigon arlī naejot nyke, naejot īlva, kesi mazverdagon sure hen ziry iā se vys kessa addemmagon syt taking ñuha soul hen nyke (She will come back to me, to us, we will make sure of it or the world shall pay for taking my soul from me)." The Dragon roars in agreement before outstretching a leg allowing for the prince to climb up into their saddle and the pair fly away as you remerge into the pit.

─────── · ·

You gasp, retracting your hands as the Dragonkeeper keeps their eyes closed, smiling softly, "the prince has always cared deeply for the princess... and is but an instance of the madness that ensued after your untimely passing. Yet little did everyone know, even yourself, you were being raised and protected for your mission-"

"But how do I keep crossing between worlds?" you question, cutting the man off as your heart aches in seeing your uncle's pain, "If I am safe here in this time, why do I leave?"

"Allow me to finish the tale, princess." You bite your cheek, closing your eyes and grabbing their hands once more. Memories of your childhood bedroom walls coated in sigils and ripped maps, of your parents, the Dragonkeepers that raised you sitting by your bedside, silver dragons dangling from their necks. Your thought-to-be father appears to be speaking the words of the man before you, their eyes are filled with unshed tears.

"Have you ever questioned how they knew so much about your family's history that has been forgotten to time? Have you not worried over their lack of care for your condition as if it is something normal?" A smaller you sits in their bed, gripping their bed sheets tightly. You cry softly upon realizing my life was nothing but a lie.

"The magic that keeps you here has been dwindling and will continue to do so, the only thing that keeps you here now is your fear," the Dragonkeeper whispers, dimming the lamp beside your bed.

"But what of my life, the people I have met? What about my career and aspirations, everything I have worked so hard towards?" you reach out for their hand to stop their movements, "I do not want to lose it all to be a mere princess."

"You are not only a princess, you are a protector of realities, your highness. Everything you have learned will be worth twice its weight in gold back where you are meant to be, you must allow yourself to let go-" his voice echoes in your mind.

"But I can't!" you stand up and shout as the room becomes darker as you stand alone in the shadows.

"You can, you will. You cannot stomach the world's end due to your own stubbornness. The world you reside in now is not possible if you do not go back... so I ask you to do what you do best, and think," the Dragonkeeper's voice fades, you feel their hands slide out from under yours yet you are unable to open your eyes.

Spinning around, you cannot see your hands or feet in the blackness that surrounds you- nor can you scream or shout- your voice drowned out by a constant hum. Soon fire ignites around you in a circle, the roar of a dragon has you shuttering and hunched forwards by the power of its breath.

Figures emerge standing around the flaming circle, you see the ghost of Prince Daemon's hands shake, his eyes a mixture of grief and pain before turning around and storming away. You then see the Princess, Rhaenyra step forwards, she throws a picture of a grey dragon, the first you ever saw into the circle before she too is dragged away into the darkness.

You meet King Viserys eyes as he nods at you, head held high to support the weight of the crown yet silent tears stream down his weathered cheeks. You hold his stare, watching as he slowly extends his hand through the flames, "be reborn through the dragon's flames," he chants. You look over his shoulder to see the Dragonkeeper standing behind him, he nods his head, silently asking for you to take his hand.

The fire feels warm yet you do feel a burn, you smell as your clothes burn away. The uneven rocks you step upon with bare feet are jagged, threatening to push into your skin yet you persevere. You reach your hand out to grasp the outstretched one of the king and your eyes are met by white light that blinds you and the cold touch of a breeze.

─────── · ·

You find yourself to be in a vast forest of pine trees frozen to time, standing tall in an effort to thaw by reaching the sun. Another breeze casts a light layer of snow over your body, you shiver as the cold bites at your skin, finding its way into your wounds that ache.

Your dress is in shambles- holding on by a mere thread. You reach down, ripping a part of your skirt and wrap it around your waist in an effort to keep the garb up before following the sun in hopes of finding your way out.

Passing by a frozen over creek you kneel down and do your best to analyze your face and wipe the blood that nears your eye. I look like death, is all you can think to yourself, and you feel close to it too if you did not find better clothes or shelter soon. The frozen water cracks, the ground shakes below your knees, you dogs barking and howling in the distance followed by a dozen horses galloping- and you chase after the sound.

Tree branches blur in the background, your feet ache, torn up by the uneven ground below you yet you know you would not survive once the warmth of the sun had vanished, not with the injuries that still sting upon your hands and face. You run as fast as you can before tripping over a fallen branch, scraping your knees on your way to the forest floor.

You shout in pain, trying but failing to pick yourself up and suddenly a stag rushes past you, eyes wide in panic as it belts out in pain. You see an arrowhead sticking out of its neck, a hunt, you raise your head, eyes beginning to freeze over as the high sun reflects off of the snow, blinding you from seeing further.

"HELP!" you shout, "PLEASE!" you beg as the howls become louder. "Please," you whisper, shaking as another gust of snow drapes over your fallen form. You reach out your hand in desperation, waving it in the air, your voice lost as the winds sing and your heart stops at the sound of a low growl.

The snow had suddenly formed yellow eyes that peer deeply into your own. You shake your head, reaching out with your palm, "I mean you no harm," you beg the animal yet know that it has no chance of understanding you, so curl into yourself in an effort to appear smaller.

You startle in your actions feeling as a wet nose touches your cheek, your eyes peek open to see the large muzzle of a wolf staring down at you. Its eyes appear human-almost as they widen, looking over your features carefully before howling loudly. You wince, tucking into yourself again yet the animal stops you part way as it lays beside you, head resting beside your own.

You all but whimper as the warmth of their fur helps to ease your blue fingertips and you await the footsteps that crunch in the snow. Metal clammers, leather boots squeak as they approach your form. The wolf stands tall to attention, you watch as a hand pats the space between the large wolf's ears. You cannot hear the praise or command over the singing of the wind yet the wolf darts off, disappearing into the snow.

A young man now kneels beside you, their long brown hair flowing in their face. His gloved hand picks up your head, his other tries to shake the snow off your hair. You watch as they still- realizing it is not the snow that makes your hair brilliant silver but your natural tone. "A Targaryen?'" a deep voice questions to themselves, "how did you end up here?"

You silently watch as they unsnap the heavy cloak from their shoulders and place it over yours. "Thank you," you breathe out. Their hand swipes away the blood from your cheek, eyebrows furrowing, "were you taken?" You nod knowing it to be the easiest answer.

He bares his teeth, "by who?" The man helps you upright yet you fail to stand on your own, body weak from the cold as you rest upon their broad chest, "I am sorry-" you try yet fail to move away.

The man holds you upright with ease, their grey eyes flooded with concern to match their frown. "Why apologize when it was against your will... unless you wanted to be kidnapped?"

You shake your head rapidly and notice the metal wolf sigil on their armour, a Stark. "I-I do not remember, it was at night and I just managed to escape," you explain, "you must believe me," you grip their leathers tightly with your plea.

"As a lord, it would be treason for me to speak otherwise, and as a man, I would be stupid," Cregan Stark jokes yet his tone lacks humour. You twitch in his hold as he picks you up in his arms, setting you on the saddle of his horse.

You open your mouth to protest before watching as he sits behind you, reaching forwards to grab the reins, "Rest" he commands. You tip your head in confusion before realizing the words were directed at you. "Rest," he says again in a softer tone, "I will ensure no more harm comes your way, consider it a promise from my house to yours." 

And with his words you allow your head to rest against his chest, listening to his heart as sleep finds you.

─────── · ·

PRIOR | NEXT

A/N: warming up with the Starks huh? 🤭 wonder what your family might think of that...

─ · · DREAMS OF DRAGONS TAGLIST: @blkmystery @inlovewiththefictionalcharacters @themoonlitquill

[wheeboo]

admire me (like I do for you) | choi seungcheol

SYNOPSIS. in which seungcheol shows you his tattoos.  PAIRING. choi seungcheol x gn!reader GENRE. fluff, just very intimate fluff, implied idol au (because his tattoos are dedicated to svt + carats) WARNINGS. some suggestive undertones, cheol takes off his shirt, touching, one curse word, cheol teasing reader, reader jokingly calling themselves a pervert cuz cheol is shirtless, terms of endearment (love), a kiss at the very end WORD COUNT. 1.9k

notes: um this was just a random thought I had. ik we have never gotten a full glimpse of his tattoos so this is just my imagination and from the research i’ve done heh.

You find your body buried deep in the comfort of your blanket, eyes closed shut as the faint moonlight squeezes its way through your closed window blinds. Nothing but peace and quietness floats in your bedroom, but the only thing that is keeping you awake is knowing your boyfriend was still awake right next to you.

Seungcheol thinks you are asleep, often sneaking glances in your direction to make sure before returning his attention to the video game on his phone, the brightness of the screen illuminating his bare face. But when he isn’t looking, you would sneakily peek an eye open, smiling softly under the blanket to his concentration𑁋the subtle furrow of his brow, the way his lips occasionally curve into a satisfied smile of victory, or his quiet whispers of narration to himself.

“No, no, no. Shit,” Seungcheol murmurs to himself, his fingers manuevering expertly on his screen. “Did he have to sneak up on me like that?”

He leaves the game in a pit of disappointment, before realising the awfully late time displayed on his phone. Slowly stretching his arms upwards, Seungcheol lets his gaze flicker towards you.

Somehow, you can feel his eyes on you, even with them closed. There’s a soft smile that plays at his lips as he turns himself around to place his phone on the bedside table, turning on his alarm and shutting off the sound of his notifications. And during this moment, you open one eye, and you manage to catch a glimpse of something that has been running through your imagination for the longest time.

Just barely, you notice the dark ink of his tattoo peeking out of his shirt at the base of his neck. It looks like a tree. You’ve seen many glimpses of it before, but not in its full glory, simply because of your nervousness to ask and how intimate and overwhelming crossing that boundary might feel to you and him. 

The bed dips down from Seungcheol’s shifting movements as he settles himself back in the bed, careful not to make any noise. But you get yourself to elicit a deliberate groan, making Seungcheol glance back down at your worriedly.

“Sorry, did I wake you?” he asks quietly.

You let out a soft chuckle, trying to appear groggy as you shift and open both of your eyes. “No... it’s okay. Could barely fall asleep without you.”

A tender smile eases its way onto his face that deepens his dimples. “Well, I’m here now. Shall we?” 

Seungcheol comfortably scoots himself closer to you, a contented sigh leaving his lips as you feel his hands grab onto your arms to encircle around him. He pulls you closer to him, and you feel the relaxing rise and fall of his chest and the quiet rhythm of his heartbeat sync with yours. 

As the quietness lingers around you both, you still find yourself to be wide awake. Though perfectly content in Seungcheol’s arms, your mind is still clouded with the thoughts of his tattoo. It’s not... that you want to see it right then and there𑁋it’s Seungcheol’s choice, of course𑁋but the curiosity and desire to explore that part of him continue to tug at your heart. 

With a sudden surge of courage, you take a deep breath and muster up the calling his name. “Cheol?” 

He stirs a bit in your hold, or is he holding you? It’s hard to tell. “Hmm?” 

You hesitate for a moment, your voice barely above a whisper. “Um... You don’t have to if you don’t want to, but would it be okay if I...” A momentary pause. “...if I could see your tattoo one day?" 

Your words make him pull back from you, but it’s hard to see his face from the pitch blackness of the bedroom. However, you can hear him reach over to turn the lampshade back on, and the room is immediately casted with a warm, dim glow. The two of you sit up in bed together, with Seungcheol criss-crossed right in front of you, and there’s a hint of vulnerability in his eyes from the way his lips seem to quiver. 

“Like I said, you don’t have to. It’s just, uh...” You think about the times you’ve caught glimpses of it. The first time was when you accidentally caught him changing to go to the gym, and you caught a fleeting glance of it when he had his back towards you in the doorway and you were quick to dismiss yourself to tend to your racing heart. Ever since then the visual thought had crept up into your mind, and each time he would turn around, you try to visualise what it look like entirely... not in a creepy way, of course. 

Seungcheol moves closer to you on the bed, his eyes seemingly searching through yours.

“I can show it to you,” Then he takes a pause. “but only if you’re really sure, because it’s... in a tough spot, sort of.”

You chuckle lightly. “I just... didn’t know how to ask or if you were, you know, comfortable.”

“Are you comfortable?” he asks. “because you already know I’m willing to do anything for you.”

As his words wash over you, you feel the heat sprouting in your face. You have always loved how he always made sure you were comfortable with anything you do together. He is cautious and careful with you, and understands your reasoning for wanting to take things at your own pace. And he has told you many times just how important you are to him, even more than himself.

But now maybe you can show him just how important he is to you.

“Yeah, I... I’m good,” You tell him, though you can still feel that pint of nervousness inside. But you want this𑁋you want to see this small, meaningful part of him. “Can I... see it?”

His gaze is warm, comforting, as he gives you a nod before positioning himself so that his back was facing towards you. Reaching down to the ends of his shirt, he slowly pulls it upward, gifting you with the sight of the bare skin of his back inch by inch. The dim light of the lamp dances on his skin, casting soft shadows that accentuate the contours of his back muscles along with his arms𑁋you can’t believe these are the same arms that he uses to hug and cuddle you. The sight makes something catch in your throat. 

And as you trail your eyes up his body, you finally see it𑁋the tree tattoo, along with two other small ones you never noticed until now on either side. The tree was larger than you thought, but it wasn’t any less beautiful in your eyes; in fact, you take in its simplistic design with nothing but admiration. 

You couldn’t help but reach out, fingers trembling slightly, as if afraid to rub away the ink of the tattoo despite it being permanent. Your touch grazes the edge of the tattoo, tracing the lines that make up the bark of the tree. As your fingertips make contact with his skin, Seungcheol flinches, feeling a sudden shiver run down his spine. 

“Sorry,” You apologise quickly, taking your finger away from his skin. “I should’ve asked.” 

“It’s okay.” You can’t see his face but you know he is. “You can... you can touch it. You can touch me.”

For some reason you feel your heart skip just from that last sentence alone𑁋the way he says it with such vulnerability and intimacy, as if he’s giving you full permission to let your touch wander anywhere. His breath hitches again when your fingers meet his skin once more, this time with more confidence. Instinctively, he feels himself leaning in more to your touch, feeling the way your hands wander over the story etched into his skin. 

“What does J.O.Y mean?” You ask him, bringing your attention to one of his small tattoos. 

“Ah, it’s the name of one of our albums,” he answers willingly. “It’s supposed to symbolise the journey of youth, like a source of motivation to the younger generation.”

The thought makes you grin. Seungcheol has always been proud of his accomplishments for his group, so him putting meaning into his tattoos makes them even more special. 

“I love that,” Then you move onto his other small tattoo. “and you have the date you debuted here?”

His body vibrates from the chuckle that leaves him. “It’s a reminder of when it all began.”

You let out an acknowledging hum in response before continuing to graze your finger over his tattoos, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your touch. Each stroke reveals a little more of his story, his passions, and his journey. He seems to be more relaxed now𑁋at least from what you see. Seungcheol, on the other hand, is trying so hard not to make it obvious the effect your touch has on him is. 

Finally, you make your way towards the tree at the base of his neck. The feeling makes him shiver once more.

“What does the tree represent?”

“It’s an olive tree, the birth flower of our debut date,” Seungcheol explains. “but it also serves as a symbol of peace and growth.”

You take a moment to let the meaning sink in, quietly appreciating his words. The significance of the olive tree as a symbol of peace and growth intertwines just perfectly with the journey he's been on as an artist and as a person.

“It’s beautiful,” You murmur, voice filled with genuine admiration. “just like you.”

A blush creeps onto Seungcheol's cheeks as he turns to look back at you for a moment, a bashful look to his face.

“You can’t say that,” he says, a deep exhale leaving him as his shoulders relax. “You know what it does to me.”

And because of that, you watch as he turns around to face you before you could respond, and your eyes immediately shoot down his bare chest, his abs, and then quickly dart back up to meet his gaze, feeling the embarrassment shoot up your face. Your voice catches in your throat, suddenly feeling the overwhelming nervousness take over. 

Seungcheol notices your sudden shift in gaze and chuckles softly.

“Caught you looking,” he teases, a boyish smile tugging at his lips.

Your cheeks heat up even more, and you fumble for words, feeling like a deer caught in headlights. “I... uh... I-I wasn’t... I mean...”

Seungcheol”s laughter fills the room, and he reaches out to cup your face gently, letting his touch soothe your nerves. 

“I’m just teasing, love,” he reassures you, letting his thumb stroke your cheek. “Don’t feel embarrassed.”

“I feel like a pervert,” You admit aloud, an awkward laugh leaving you. You already knew there was no reason for you to feel this way, but you can’t shake the feeling away because your boyfriend is shirtless in front of you and you have no idea how to react other than wanting to sink yourself deep into your bed in a pit of shame.

You feel his hand trail down to your chin, causing you to look back up at him. However, his face contains nothing but affection. How does he manage to look at you like this, nothing but adoration in his eyes but be this attractive right in front of you?

“I love it when you admire me,” He leans in awfully close, voice lowering. “just like I do for you.”

His words send a shiver down your spine, and you can feel the intensity of his gaze as he leans in closer. You swallow a lump in your throat, glancing between his eyes and his mouth. 

And then as his lips brush against yours, it’s like a soft caress on your skin. There’s a surge of warmth that spreads throughout your body as it deepens ever so slightly, and you could feel the smile tug your own face when you feel his own lips curl too.

taglist (open) ʚɞ @enhazen​ @haowrld​ @ylliris-hanniehae​ @icyminghao​

[kismets-barista]

Hold onto your Stetson, @ohposhers; have I got some personal HickDory lore for you 😎💜🌟🫧

Excuse the insanity for those who don't feel compelled towards these two

SO!

Hickory and JD met a few good years before the events of the World Tour when Dory was traveling to find Lonesome Flats, got heatstroke and passed out in the desert. Wakes up to Hickory shadowed in the flickering light of a campfire beneath a canopy of the brightest stars he'd seen since the Neverglades, but it wouldn't be until QUITE a few months later until they really started developing crushes against each other. (Cowboy under the stars, you'd think he'd fall right then and there, right? 🌟)

Why was Hickory already in Lonesome Flats, you might ask? Where was Dickory?

In a glue trap, I say in response. Hickory came from Yodelsberg (is there a canonical name for this?) for international study and to learn about new music. He fell in love with country because yodeling and country music are actually quite gorgeous together. She Taught Me to Yodel, anyone?

Delta Dawn obviously didn't take to Dory showing up and around the town, but after some convincing by Hickory and lots of proving himself (plus a vulture attack that resulted in John Dory saving the very young niece of Delta Dawn- Clampers-) he 'earned' a place there and began to work around town.

It was weird for him.

He'd never quite settled down, until then.

(Now, the specific timeline, yearly I mean is a little muddled because I'm still crafting this, but I'll put them out about three years, now.)

John Dory was still living in Lonesome Flats, and he'd started a relationship with Hickory. They loved each other, as my cohort in crime @protagonist-art (CHECK OUT THEIR ART I LOVE THEM SM MUAH) has Hickory tell John when we get write them, "More than the moon loves the ocean." As surely as the tide pulls in and out, so the lovers return to each other.

So Via, what does Hickory think about BroZone?

Oh, my sweet star.

He doesn't know.

After returning to the devastated Troll Tree, John Dory lost a piece of his heart in the damaged pod they used to live in. It was the first time he went grey, and the memories of his brothers started shifting from what was, to what would never be again. He couldn't find it within himself to talk about them, and has his secrets.

But so does Hickory.

Girl wdym stop being so mysterious.

Heh. I know. It's just a glimpse into my dark mind /ref. Anyways, Hickory never told John Dory he was a Yodeler troll. (Another piece of lore that Quizzy and I worked on together and I think it's brilliant.)

Huh? Aren't they in a long-term relationship? Won't this cause issues later on if they don't share these things with each other?

Oh, they love every aspect of each other too much for their bond to truly be broken.

And yet.

One morning, years after just living and loving, John Dory wakes up with a massive headache and nausea.

"Maybe it's that horse that kicked me yesterday, could've gotten me harder than we both thought."

"Lemme check for a knot, Darlin'."

No knots, but there was an egg.

🌟 (Here I'll say that I'm massively in love with the headcanon that trolls conceive through true love- it isn't quite necessary for them to physically do anything unless they want to. Just them, wholeheartedly trusting and putting everything into their relationship and pouring their heart out to their partner.)

They were absolutely ECSTATIC, and rightfully terrified in their own ways. Neither of them were looking for children but not against it, and after resting for a few days they began to plan. A nursery in the house, baby books with millions of names scattered on the coffee table, toys and cute little baby clothes for when the little one hatched.

Wanna know two of the names John Dory had in mind? Rhonda and Dolly.

They were ecstatic until the night John Dory woke up absolutely ill and with a pit in his stomach.

They lost the egg, and it was the second time John Dory went grey in his life.

A week after this had happened, John Dory left a bundled lock of his hair at Hickory's nightstand and did what he knows how to do all too well. He ran.

Hickory never went too far out of Lonesome Flats in the hopes that John Dory would come back. He couldn't imagine what would happen if his love came back and didn't find him there.

The events of World Tour come about, Hickory meets Branch, and travels for the first time since John Dory left.

John Dory continued to travel, until the events of Band Together.

But don't worry, dear readers, for as surely as the tides come in, so will the lovers meet again. 🌟

Aaaand BOOM! That's it! 💜 I've got lore behind the names Rhonda and Dolly as well, and am SO down to answer any questions about them that anyone has. For you, Posh, thank you for asking and helping me to share a story I've been working on, and for everyone else that read this, thank you kindly! I hope that everyone who made it this far has quite a lovely day, or if you didn't, have a lovely day anyways!

Remember to take your meds, drink water, eat something, and stretch!

💜🌟🫧

[lietpoland]

Some work doodles... Heh 😏 Just a glimpse into my dark twisted mind

[dailyterukane]

i made evil terukane… just a glimpse into my dark & twisted mind, heh…

[sledgehammercreek]

Saltpaw (she/they) my beloved

"heh, just a glimpse into my dark and twisted mind... heheh."

Character for @pantheon-of-oros <3

[regretevator-confessions]

𝕙𝕖𝕙.. 𝕪𝕖𝕒𝕙… 𝕚 𝕔𝕠𝕟𝕤𝕚𝕕𝕖𝕣 𝕞𝕪𝕤𝕖𝕝𝕗 𝕒 ℙ𝕣𝕠𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕡𝕡𝕖𝕣….. 𝕚'𝕞 𝕒 𝕓𝕚𝕥 𝕠𝕗 𝕒 𝔻𝕒𝕣𝕜 𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕡𝕡𝕖𝕣…. 𝕁𝕦𝕤𝕥 𝕒 𝕘𝕝𝕚𝕞𝕡𝕤𝕖 𝕚𝕟𝕥𝕠 𝕞𝕪 𝕋𝕨𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕕 𝕄𝕚𝕟𝕕……… 𝕀 𝕝𝕠𝕤𝕥 𝕒𝕝𝕝 𝕞𝕪 𝕗𝕣𝕚𝕖𝕟𝕕𝕤 𝕓𝕖𝕔𝕒𝕦𝕤𝕖 𝕀 𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕡 𝕁𝕖𝕣𝕞𝕓𝕠 𝕩 𝔹𝕦𝕔𝕜… 𝕒𝕟𝕕 ℙ𝕚𝕝𝕓𝕪 𝕩 𝔻𝕠𝕦𝕘….. ℍ𝕖𝕙……… 𝕀 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕜 𝔻𝕠𝕦𝕘 𝕥𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕞 𝕒𝕡𝕒𝕣𝕥 𝕒𝕝𝕝 𝕘𝕠𝕣𝕖𝕥𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕚𝕔𝕒𝕝𝕝𝕪 𝕨𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕕 𝕓𝕖 𝕡𝕣𝕖𝕥𝕥𝕪 𝕖𝕡𝕚𝕔, 𝕙𝕖𝕙𝕖𝕙… ＤＯＮ＇Ｔ ＭＥＳＳ ＷＩＴＨ ＭＥ．

(Translation:

heh.. yeah... i consider myself a Proshipper..... i'm a bit of a Dark shipper.... Just a glimpse into my Twisted Mind......... I lost all my friends because I ship Jermbo x Buck... and Pilby x Doug..... Heh......... I think Doug tearing them apart all goretastically would be pretty epic, heheh... DON'T MESS WITH ME.)

[snookie-pookie]

Heh… this is just a glimpse into the dark and twisted parts of my mind..

[deer-vertebrae]

to me, he's normal might... heh... just a glimpse into my dark and twisted mind...

[honourablejester]

Blades in the Dark Character Concept: A Fishy Journalist Whisper

First thought for a Blades in the Dark character, and I’m going to do the wholly expected thing and make a Tycherosi Whisper. Because, well. Demonic occultist in a haunted dieselpunk city. I have types?

Starting from the heritage, because if you’re going to make a Whisper, naturally you look at the demon-blooded inhabitants of a mysterious semi-mythical land far beyond the northern Void Sea. So Tycheros. And. If you’re Tycherosi, you choose a ‘demonic telltale’ like black shark eyes to mark your character. So I bounced down to the section on devils to look at demon features, and there’s some cool stuff down there, but those are for full-blown demons. So wings, tentacles, tails. I could have gone something milder, like the scales or the eyes, but …

Tentacles. I do want the tentacles. But full-blown tentacles is too much. But. What about tattoos of tentacles? Or ‘tattoos’ of tentacles, inky marks that shift and undulate and move beneath the surface of her skin? Because Tycheros is far beyond the Void Sea, Tycherosi are strangers from ‘beyond the Void Sea’. So lets bring some Void Sea into the proceedings here. A traveller who arrived in Doskvol on a ship from the Void Sea.

And. With that thought. Moving to background. There is a landmark in the Docks called Ink Lane, a twisting back street full of tattooists and journalists, because ink slingers. And maybe when she arrived she hung around there, because her demon marks fit in at least a little bit better among the tattoo artists, and while she was rubbing shoulders with the other sorts of ink slingers, the journalists, maybe she took a shine for the career. So maybe she’s been in Doskvol for a few years now, and maybe she tried her hand at the press. So we’ll go Academic, a journalist.

For my action dots, Whisper automatically puts a dot in Study and two in Attune. My background dot I’ll put in Consort, because journalists have contacts. My heritage dot … I’m not sure. I might put it in Wreck? Just for the demonic angle. Maybe she channels something a little bit dark sometimes. And my two free dots I think I might put in Survey. She’s got her eyes open, this one. So she’ll have two in Attune, two in Survey, and one each in Study, Consort and Wreck.

For the special ability. I was tempted by Ghost Mind, by Occultist, by Ritual. For a journalist, they all make sense. But. I think I’m still going back to the Void Sea, to demon blood, to tentacles. I think I’m going to pick Tempest. Because the leviathans are demons, and, a little bit, so is she. So storms and lightning. So tentacles and void ink and drowning. Yeah. I think it’s definitely Tempest.

My friend and my rival … Are we going to side with the demon, Setarra? Are we that wild and that tempestuous, that full of sympathy for the devil? Possibly. I think we just might. And then the enemy … I mean, we could go Scurlock. That might be a bit too neat. But it would also make sense. Heh.

(In terms of factions, I suspect she’s nursing some antipathy for the Leviathan Hunters. And, obviously, Lord Scurlock. Gets on fine with the Ink Rakers, though).

My vice, naturally, is Weird. Because she enjoys oddities, flotsam and jetsam. And for the purveyor, there is apparently a hooded proprietor of a half-flooded grotto tavern near the docks, which folds so neatly into everything else.

For our name, look, and alias … She’s a tall, bony woman, with cheekbones like knives, dark brown eyes, and dark brown hair in a reporter’s bob cut. She wears tired three-piece suits with high collared shirts, but as high as they are you can still sometimes glimpse the inked darkness of a tentacle slither along her neck just above them. I definitely also want her to have one of those caped greatcoats. Her name …

Indira Sevoy. Alias Undine. She’s got a watery sort of reputation.

One final detail, Whispers get a ‘Fine Spirit Mask’ among their equipment, which enables them to see supernatural energies in detail, and somewhat protects them against possession. Each mask is unique, and strange, and disturbing. So what does her mask look like? It looks like the Void Sea. It’s carved of a slick, smooth black stone, carved with faint ripples and wavelets, and faint lights appear to glimmer beneath the surface of the stone as faint stars appear to glimmer beneath the sea.

So here we are. A very fishy journalist, a stranger from across the sea, a long-time inhabitant of Ink Lane, a connoisseur of the strange and the delightful and the oceanic. A Tycherosi Whisper.