@loath3d / For Morrigan.

@loath3d / for morrigan.

" go terrorize someone else. " he feigns annoyance, though his tone is light — a smirk threatening his lips, despite his best attempt to keep it at bay. " i'm busy. and, seeing as though you are my third in command ... it is a little concerning that you seem to have so much free time. hm. perhaps i should tack on extra work. "

PROMPTS FOR ORDINARY THINGS THAT FEEL INTIMATE *  inspired by this post. these don't have to be romantic - you can specify romantic or not when you send them. in essence, these are simply intimate, affectionate moments to share with someone you love and care about. adjust as necessary, send 'reverse' for the reversal of the prompt

[ lean ] sender rests their head on receiver's shoulder

[ shop ] sender and receiver go to the grocery store together

[ brush ] sender brushes receiver's hair

[ tie ] sender helps receiver with their tie, either by putting it on or adjusting it

[ necklace ] sender helps receiver with the clasp of their necklace from behind

[ zip up ] sender assists receiver with zipping up a piece of clothing

[ unzip ] sender assists receiver with unzipping a piece of clothing

[ shoelaces ] sender bends down to tie receiver's shoelaces

[ swipe ] sender notices a smudge of something on receiver's face and gently wipes it off

[ braid ] sender braids receiver's hair

[ jacket ] sender takes their jacket off and hangs it on receiver's shoulders

[ puddle ] sender hurries to stop receiver from stepping into a puddle

[ drinks ] sender brings receiver a drink from a bar/their kitchen

[ feed ] sender feeds receiver's pet/s for them

[ cook ] sender and receiver cook a meal together

[ feed ] sender allows receiver to try a bite of their dish, holding their fork out for receiver to taste

[ teach ] sender, an expert at something, takes time to teach receiver how it works and how they can get better at it, too

[ readjust ] sender comes up behind receiver and readjusts their stance (maybe holding a gun, holding a golf club, aiming for something, etc.) to help them

[ makeup ] sender fixes receiver's makeup for them

[ bathroom ] sender and receiver go to a public restroom together and have a normal conversation in between the stalls

[ aloud ] sender reads aloud to receiver

[ refill ] sender refills receiver's glass without asking

[ massage ] sender notices receiver looks tense, steps up behind them, and massages their shoulders

[ listen ] sender listens to receiver explain something they're passionate about

[ silence ] sender and receiver comfortably exist in silence together, both of them working or reading or focusing on something different

[ food ] sender brings food over to receiver's house

[ hum ] sender hums along to a song receiver is singing

[ see ] sender sees something that reminds them of receiver and texts them a picture of it

[ admire ] sender stares at receiver across a room, silently admiring and appreciating them from afar

[ win ] sender lets receiver beat them in a game

[ puzzle ] sender helps receiver solve/put together a puzzle

[ carry ] after receiver falls asleep in an inconvenient place, sender carries them to a bed and tucks them in

[ kneel ] sender finds receiver sick in the bathroom ("tossing their cookies"), and kneels beside them, holding their hair back and cleaning their face

[ clean ] sender helps bathe receiver

[ wash ] sender helps receiver wash their hair

[ patch ] sender carefully patches one of receiver's wounds

⭒˚｡🖁‧₊˚ 〖 down these mean streets . . . 〗 a collection of scene prompts inspired by n͟e͟o͟-n͟o͟i͟r͟, v͟i͟o͟l͟e͟n͟c͟e͟, c͟o͟n͟t͟r͟o͟l͟, e͟t͟c͟. some prompts usfw. add +reversed for the receiving muse to be "the sender" instead. adjust details as necessary.

dead end. there's nowhere left to run; the sender has cornered you at last. anonymous. disguising your voice, you call the sender to threaten/warn them. loose ends. you thought you killed them! but there's the sender, walking your way. ashtray. your cigarette smokes as you extinguish it on the sender's skin. deck. you lick the sender's blood from your knuckles, still stinging from the punch. backstab. end of the road, pal—you reveal you're double-crossing the sender. blunt. hidden in the shadows, you press your gun to the sender's back.

heel. you stare at the sender from across the room and beckon them to you. fix. not looking like that—disapproving, you fix the sender's appearance. tilt. you take the sender's chin in your hand and make them meet your gaze. staccato. irritated, the sender drums their fingers against you beneath the table. listen. the sender disobeys and you swat their curious hand away. fasten. just something i picked up—you clasp a necklace/tie/etc. on the sender. quiet. you press a finger to the sender's lips and tell them to be patient.

vomit. you can't handle this; you vomit as the sender groans about leaving evidence. wink. don't worry—you wink as you assure the sender you have no morals to offend. up front. the sender's job is a doozy; you demand half the payment now or you walk. hush. talk is cheap but you sure aren't. you accept the hush money from the sender. crossfire. you realize the sender asking you to put out a hit is your next target. gulp. hard to argue with a bullet; you agree to the sender's demands. jugular. you hold your breath as the sender uses you to demonstrate how the murder weapon was used to strangle the victim.

patron. you know the sender is hired to keep you spending but you linger anyway. last call. the sender has one final cigarette in their pack; you take it without asking. loose lips. the sender pours you another glass as you finally confess. bills. it's on me—you pay for the sender's meal. cozy. there aren't enough seats open; you pull the sender onto your lap with a grin. coffee. you look like hell—you press a cup of coffee to the sender's hands. waiting. you duck into the bus stop to escape the rain, intruding on the sender.

gutter. the trail of blood ends and you find the sender broken on the ground. speak up. you press the knife in deeper as the sender swears they didn't betray you. plaster. it's not pretty but it'll do; you wince as the sender patches your wounds. empty. you laugh at the sender as you throw your gun aside, finally out of bullets. rat. the sender falls to their knees and agrees to tell you everything they know. smother. you clasp a hand over the sender's mouth to keep from being heard. cut our losses. the sender won't make it; you leave them to die.

voyeur. you know the sender's watching; you open the blinds so they can watch. slip of the tongue. the sender whispers another's name against your skin. sign here. the sender traces a finger over [your choice], asking you to leave a mark. desk. your most enticing assignment yet: the sender bent over your desk. handcuffs. the sender dangles the key, teasing, but you hope they take their time. window. you press the sender against the glass, watching the city watching them. harsh light. what's worse? the hangover or that you can't recall the sender's name.

@volchtsa : ‘ sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt, you just looked sad. ’ — amren

sad seems to be an understatement, with the high lord being multiple drinks in — alone, surrounded by a mist of shadows, eyes burning a hole into the paperwork that was neglected hours ago. it's become a nightly routine since returning from under the mountain, wrapping up his days of hunting rogue illyrian war bands with anything to take the edge off. they were gruesome confrontations over the fifty years they'd decided to push boundaries, that ended with blood being spilled more often than not. a waste of life, especially when they'd need as many bodies as they could round up for the festering war. what he'd thought would be a decent enough distraction from the upcoming wedding, ended up only adding onto his stress.

her words pull him from his thoughts, gesturing to the chair in front of his desk. after so many years, isolating himself to deal with his problems on his own had become second nature — but in moments like this, he is reminded of what it is to have a friend again. his family. he straightens, waving a hand. " no need to apologize. don't tell me you've gone soft in my absence. " a glass appears before them, a gift from the house for amren, filled with blood. " i was just lost in thought, i suppose. "

he's never seen cassian so tied up about anyone like this, let alone a female — he uses care when approaching the subject, keeping his taunts to himself, for the sake of his brother's open vulnerability. it's only when he realizes the hurt in his brother's eyes, that rhysand scowls, fingers drumming against the arm of his chair. " she has been going down a dark path. feyre has expressed her own concern, as well. " his tone is kept neutral, biting down the resentment that lingers. her treatment of his mate had been excruciating to watch, to know that it'd been effecting cassian too ... rhysand finishes off his glass, resting his cheek against his fist. " perhaps, we can all discuss further steps together. she can't keep going on like this. " if it's what he suspects, if there is a bond between them, a warning won't keep cassian away — but there is a chance that this will end in only heartache for him. " just ... don't allow yourself to get too close, if she'll even allow it. for your own sake. "

he gives only a huff in answer to rhys's statement, throwing back the rest of the liquid in his glass then before more appears in its wake. he's rather grateful to the house for filling it for him, but nothing will take his thoughts fully from the archeron sister a few rooms away. he listens to his brother, somehow managing to focus enough on his words to form some of his own. ❝ i don't... i don't know. ❞ a lie. he knows damn well why it bothers him so much, but aside from being too afraid to say it out loud, he's worried his brother will laugh at him. not for any particular reason, but the worry is still there. shifting as rhys settles beside him, the two of them now drinking together as they have more times than he can even begin to count, cassian goes on. ❝ i'm trying so hard, rhys. seeing her destroy herself... i can barely take it anymore. ❞ he'd never try to control or dictate the female's actions, but he's afraid of what might happen if he can't step in and help her in the right way. he looks to his high lord, a sad look about him. ❝ she's different around me. sometimes. and just when i think she's opening up, she snaps at me. ❞

rhysand glances to the wound that already seems to be repairing itself, an unnerving sense of causality for someone that had just been attacked, as he waves it off. " the concern is appreciated. " a shrug, lips pulling into a crooked smirk. " however, i give this ... oh, an hour before it turns into nothing more than scar tissue. " he dusts off his tunic, before his head tilts to inspect the other. " the way you handled yourself was impressive — for a human, that is. "

"There's no way I'm leaving you like this." @rhysie