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animehouse-moe · 9 months

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Link Click Season Two Episode 3: Two Funerals

After the initial two episode fare of this season, episode three certainly feels like it slows things down. Which is not a bad thing. It gives the story time to establish itself, to provide mystery and unspoken curiosities to the world, to allow for exploration of the new characters and their roles in the story, and it gives Lu Guang and Cheng Xiaoshi time to work their magic. So certainly quite a bit to chat about with this episode!

I think the first thing that really tickles my brain is the oddities of the production for Link Click. Not that it's a bad thing, but that it's just decidedly different when compared to anime. Stuff like the letterboxing and the camera movement leave it very telling that this is a donghua rather than an anime. Bit hard to explain over words, but check out this panning shot. Feels.... wrong, right? Well, that's because of how it's shot. The way that the pan stops during the scene is different than what you'd normally see with anime, which continue the pan right to the end typically (or at the very least have it slow down before coming to a stop).

Similarly, the production vastly prefers depth to breadth, which is an interesting idea. Considering the share of horizontal to vertical space, you might have thought the latter, but instead they choose the former. Detail doesn't come from side to side, rather it likes to appear from front to back. Take this layout for example.

Typically, if you're operating on breadth instead of depth, you'd be more inclined to place the focus (the older characters in track suits on the right) towards the center of the frame, while placing the supporting characters and details on either side of them. Focusing on depth first however allows for far more different shots that feel more grounded in 3-dimensional space.

Anyways, the episode itself. We start with the older characters and/or masters of Lu Guang and Cheng Xiaoshi waiting around in a hospital. Nothing too special, just establishing their characters and why they showed up to help Qiao Ling and Cheng Xiaoshi. Though I have to admit, some of the pieces through their short time here are comical as they have a run in with an incredibly drunk person.

Of course, the trio of elderly leave this hospital and arrive at Lu Guang's (in style, obviously) to take on the mob that has surrounded Qiao Ling and Cheng Xiaoshi. I was really looking forward to some crazy action, but I also wasn't surprised when they kept things simple and skipped most of it. They gave two crazy action sequences back to back, so I think they can afford a bit of a break. Still, they delivered some cool and interesting sequences and a fun impact frame or two.

Also, fun little detail here. During this sequence, and before the impact frames, the father of the other two actually disappears in frame for a brief second. Fun little bit to give to people paying close attention.

Also also, this gif provides an excellent example of that depth-first approach for the production. Rather than the left to right or vice versa you might usually see, they place the camera at an arbitrary spot in 3D space, and have the mob of characters run through the camera. Pieces like this really help establish Link Click's visual style.

A similar example can be found in a follow-up scene of Qiao Ling and Cheng Xiaoshi after the fight. It really does look good, it's just that it might take a bit to get used to because of the letterboxing. Certainly makes me curious about the choice for it to be a consistent visual restraint considering how much they might be able to accomplish with a full scene.

I haven't really talked about the story, have I? Well, up until this point it hasn't been anything super crazy, truthfully. The bad guys got beat up and are being interrogated, and Xiao Li comes to apologize to Qiao Ling and Cheng Xiaoshi. There's nothing crazy or important yet. That is, until Liu Min's father and entourage show up and butt heads with our current trio.

The back and forth is more performative than substantive, but Qian Jin's interactions are most certainly the focal point. Establishing his prior history as a police officer, and the past that he shares with Xiao Li, an odd rivalry brews between him and Cheng Xiaoshi.

It makes you really curious as to what led Qian Jin to his current station in life, and what it was that happened in this flashback we're shown by Xiao Li.

Anyways, the arguments come and go, and Qiao Ling ends it all with an incredibly satisfying slap that gets the first reaction out of Qian Jin in the whole conversation.

It's an incredibly subtle difference, but his default grin does widen a bit after the interaction. I think it adds a good deal to the sort of slimy and snake-like personality that Qian Jin wields so far. Very curious to see how his role plays out given that his lackey is being detained.

We move forward, and into Chen Bin's funeral. They do well with it as an emotional moment and bring out the best in Chen's now-widow to help give Cheng Xiaoshi the push he needs to solidify his desire to go back and prevent Chen Bin's death. I do think the emotional beat is well done, it's just that I'm not really one to be "all-in" on this sort of stuff myself, so I don't have too many words to say about it.

What I do have words to say about though is how Cheng Xiaoshi and Lu Guang interact as the latter goes back in time. Also, just more of that whole Black and White/Ying and Yang theme here.

Anyways, the biggest thing is how Cheng Xiaoshi asks Lu Guang for his help. He says that he wants to help the pair, which appeals to Lu Guang through the guilt they share for being the cause of Chen Bin's death. It's a great moment that establishes the hesitation the pair have in the use of their powers currently, and their overall intent in their reasoning for using them. A solid shift from their original purpose through season 1, though of course the natural conclusion of their experiences with it anyways.

Of course, we end the episode on a cliffhanger though. That red-eyed guest from the prior episode? They didn't come to take over Lu Guang, they came to deliver a picture. Are they the same person that inhabited Qiao Ling at the end of S1/start of S2? It's hard to say, but the idea of the red eyes does beg quite the question.

The back of the photo is even more interesting when you know what it says. "Don't Die, Good Brother". Specifically "Gege" which is elder brother. Together with the drawing on the back of the young girl in the photo with an older brother, does it really mean what viewers might think it does? Is Lu Guang related to this pink haired girl somehow? Does she expect him and Cheng Xiaoshi to use the photo and learn something from it?

A far more intriguing ending than the episode itself might let on, this third episode works very hard to slow things down and draw them out so that viewers can have time to get attached to and understand the stories and characters that appear within. Of course, the quality is still way up there in terms of animation and direction, so it seems overall we've settled in for the long haul with a long term story compared to the more episodic approach of season 1. Really interested to see what they do with more time.

#link click #time agents #shi guang dai li ren #shiguang dailiren #时光代理人 #cheng xiaoshi #lu guang #qiao ling #donghua #shiguang daili ren #anime recommendation #anime review #anime and manga #anime #shiguang #link click spoilers

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blacky-nikki-art · 1 year

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Do you have any advice about how to draw Exos? I really want to draw my warlock a bunch but my art is focused on simplicity and circles so trying to make detailed Destiny stuff fit is rough. Like, just understanding the robotics on her face is giving me a hard time.

Also your art is super cool and I don't know your OCs well yet but I already love them!!

Thank you very much! <3 It can be a bit problematic for me cuz exo faces are technically like human skulls and obviously have the same proportions as human faces. It's good to know some basics about it, srl. It's worth it. Helps improve A LOT.

But anyway!

Srl, drawing each detail is not worth this. I see many artists do the same if they're not super realistic. Personally, I make some studies of my Iberis-3 before I started to give him 'my art style'. I chose only parts that are for me more important than others or make it more simple. Creating Iberis to the version I really liked took me 2-3 weeks so don't hurry with this. Obviously, his design had changed during these 3 years and It's not a shame.

Compare the art style I usually use and the version from the game:

For example, I made his eyes much easier. Only black holes and a small white dot. It's a popular technic in the fandom.

Much more problematic is showing emotions on exos faces. They're not really expressive in the game. No eyebrows, small mouth, etc. Only Cayde-6 had eyebrows + these big blue eyes gave him so much more expression than all other exominds. If there is another exo like him in the game, pls let me know.

Because I'm my style is more cartoony I had to 'find the way'. Like I said eyes/optic/ eyebrows or however we can name it.

The red lines are parts that I use to show emotions. This face model can 'have' eyebrows like Cayde but I never liked it so I use this one.

Also mouth ale necessary part of emotions too but with exos is hard to do it. The big holes in the cheeks place are cool when they speak and show light but take so much place. The red line shows which part I use.

It's not a lot compared to how much we can show on the human face. Also, important for me - my exos have 'fake teeth'. The game one didn't have it. I create this part cuz It let me easier show emotions. They're not always white. For Cayde I always use black cuz It just looks better for me.

Examples from my style about eyes and mouth:

This is all I can tell you. I hope I helped a bit 'cause I don't really feel like I'm a good person for this. Honestly most of the time I don't have any idea what I'm doing.

#ask to me #blacky try draw #destiny 2 art

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neodarkdark · 6 months

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I know I Have every so often mentioned that Svern was learning violin as a kid and it did also eventually become associated with him in my mental audio links (despite me saying initially that it wasn't lol), but I hadn't sat down and properly put much thought into it beyond that. Bc originally it was supposed to be more for fun character trivia than anything else, I just left it at "he started learning bc it was something suggested for/assigned to him when he was a kid, but he didn't enjoy it that much and later Lilly was often standing in for him instead of him playing it himself".

So I thought about it some more, properly. Since the mental image of Svern Playing Violin has grown on me, the joking hc "Lilly is better at it than him bc Svern doesn't practise properly" is going to be only half-true. I still think it's fun for Lilly to be better at it than him in general, but he's also a good violinist himself. It's also still true that he didn't / doesn't get much enjoyment out of it, but this is Svern, he doesn't tend to get much genuine enjoyment out of most things.

In his main verse he's at least semi-actively practising and can / will play sometimes (although not usually as "Svern"). He's not an especially dedicated musician nor is it on his list of favourite hobbies, but it's kinda fun sometimes to do to pass time if the whim takes him, or if there's some other reason to play. He has very strong skill + memory retention, so he doesn't get too rusty and it doesn't take him long to un-rust if he hasn't practised/played much for a while.

In verses where he's not carrying out so much of that double life (as Sylvester) he doesn't really play much at present, if at all, unless given a specific reason. I doubt he would even go out of his way to hang onto a violin of his own. So he'd be More rusty and likely less skilled overall (but again could get back into practise fairly easily).

As for his preferred style of playing! This is what I was originally thinking about earlier. I'm a pianist, not a violinist, so this is a little trickier for me. I need to listen to more violin-centred pieces.

My Good Friend (you know who you are <3) said they think a playing style like this violinist's - described as "both chaotic and completely composed", is fitting for Svern; to which I said, Headcanon Accepted. I really like the mental image of him playing in an energetic but controlled way, and also it sounds good. Obviously he could vary his playing depending on the piece (or what's necessary/appropriate), but as a general baseline for what he gravitates to or what kind of spin he'll put on stuff he plays, that'd be how it is. If he's gonna play, he prefers playing more energetic/intense or demanding pieces, since that's more enjoyable for him.

There's a certain, slightly more forceful "edge" to the sound of how this violinist tends to play (even in the videos where I think she's just talking about and demonstrating different violins and plays something simple on them for that) which I like and which I think is part of what makes it. I need to listen and compare more, but I think that's what my ear picks up on.

#curse of being a musician but not for the Right instrument is i want to think too hard about it but don't have enough to draw on #boredom is so terrible like a dread disease (headcanon)

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ladyloveandjustice · 1 year

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@lillipupzilla replied to your post “It’s so funny when people are like ‘superhero...”:

I want to read more graphic novels, like not the usual comic book type stuff, they aren't really as easy to find or to find fandom of. Manga also has a different average typical art style which might have more surface level appeal to people buying, and I wonder if that plays some part. Like 14 year old me would never want to read a book with big muscle men, but pretty boys with big eyes and fluffy hair on the other hand?

If you have a big library nearby, that’s a good way to pick up a decent range of graphic novels usually! I have a few recs in my ‘year in comics’ tag. But yeah, the thing with indie comics and independent gns is they’re decenteralized in a way manga isn’t (not connected to each other, not running in the same magazines, nor promoted by the same publishers), which doesn’t lend itself as much to big fandoms, and there’s a lot less that run for several volumes compared to manga. It helps a lot that there will be long periods when manga is coming out monthly, so fans can speculate between updates without losing interest.

But yeah, I think the more simplistic art style can’t be underestimated, it’s easier for kids to doodle and imitate- like obviously you still have to be very skilled to draw it WELL, but it’s easier for a doodling kid to get in the ballpark of and not feel completely discouraged because thet can’t trace every rippling muscle.

There are probably a lot of small reasons manga does better, some of them not really GOOD (like for example, can’t ignore that plenty of kids probs think ‘it’s ~exotic~ and therefore cool, which has some implications) and I think the ‘cute’ factor does play a part too- even the most musclehead shonen manga will have a bishonen around to appeal to those who like that and of course there’s slice of life and shoujo titles even if those aren’t US sales phenomenons like Chainsaw Man, they do well for themselves. But it’s so delusional that people think most fourteen year olds are out there choosing manga because it’s less woke or political (ignoring that a lot of manga is political and there’s plenty that have leftist themes) like they have time to be as insular and obsessive as some guy on the internet, when it’s clearly a lot more obvious and simple factors of accessibility and genre variety.

#replies #comics #manga

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first-mistake-forever-more · 2 years

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Hi I love your art, you have the ability to pack so much emotion into simple things… It’s amazing.

I have a question：Do you think it is beneficial for all rookies to learn art fundamentals and do dedicated learning？And did you personally spend any time studying art fundamentals ? thank uuu

Hi thank you for the kind words I'm obviously no authority on this but from the point of view of illustration: Yes, I do think so. . I studied art fundamentals for a few years on and off when I was more on the figuring out part of my style development. I think composition and color theory were the more important things to learn for me (They translated later into my other, more graphical art ventures too). Gesture drawing also kinda saved my characters more than anatomy. I always felt classic anatomy was a bit rigid and I kinda disregarded it for a while but since 2020 or so I started rly trying to observe how it works. Both have helped me tremendously in constructing weighty poses and character designs. (I think that's the best part of anatomy, really selling that your characters are actually standing in the scenery you built for them) I think any artist(illustrator moreso) that wants to develop a personal style should have at least a small grasp of fundamentals but I also think one absorbs that kind of knowledge with an observant eye, I can say personally most I've learned from art was from looking at other artists and how they solve illustrative/artistic problems(problem from a design definition). From big things like how do they compose a scene? communicate emotion? to more simple stuff like how do they draw eyes, or hands? (completely unrelated ramble but I think that last one is very prevalent in online artistic circles, when one artist develops an appealing solution this solution tends to spread, a bit like a DNA strand or meme, around their circles and the people who follow them, I've seen it happen to me, many friends and people who I don't know. I think it's an interesting phenomenon in how quickly it happens compared to pre-internet eras (can you tell it's more fun for me to observe social dynamics than to make art)) U can sometimes tell the difference slightly between an artist who studied fundamentals and one who didn't if you did study them (not saying one person is better or worse) Personally nowadays (not saying this is a good thing) I almost never practice anatomy unless there's a specific problem I want to tackle, but I believe that's only because for my current sensibilities, I've kind of developed a way to draw figures which suits me. Some people like drawing more realistic/classical stuff and kind of flexing those muscles but that's really never been me. On the subject of dedicated learning, if you mean going to a drawing school or course I can say it can only benefit you. In 2018 I went to a classic comic workshop for a few months and I still have retained things from it even if I ended up dropping it because it wasn't for me. Anyone who can drop you a bit of knowledge is great. Appart from all that, while I think it's beneficial.. I don't really think it's necessary, I don't know. I haven't Really studied fundamentals in years. I usually experiment inside my own style, observing and incorporating new things all the time. Trying out different tools, coloring processes, that kind of stuff. But of course, you have to Get to that point first. I always say I can't really do the same thing twice, and I really think it's true, it makes me feel a bit hacky. So I'm always trying to do something different or new (even when you compare two very similar pieces of mine you can tell there's differences; I never have a ruleset for making art). My girlfriend likes to draw and she never studied fundamentals, picking up stuff along the way, and we draw on relatively similar styles (even before we started being together), and I can tell you I've seen her make things which were super emotionally resonant, and deeply beautiful. I even think she's better than me at a few different aspects. When we draw together it's very fun This is just a bit of my personal history with classical learning, I hope it helped but as you may be able to tell I'm no authority in the subject, my experience is limited. I wish I could go on and on for 100000 words but there's a character limit on tumblr and I already cut this down a lot hahah

#ask

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somerandomwarriorsrewrite · 9 months

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Leaders, marks and names / Líderes, marcas e nomes

English 🇺🇲

One thing that i always wanted to change, was the way leaders names are, like, it's cool the names Bluestar and Sunstar, but i think it breaks the diversity in the names and principally, it takes away some names that are unique and with meaning to replace it with "star", like Fireheart and Blackfoot.

So i want to their warrior's name to remain the same, while giving other thing to show their title, i have four ideas for this.

The Star remains, but in front or before the name - like it says, the star would in front or before the name, an example would be: Star Fireheart or Fireheart Star, honestly, the first one sounds better;

Monarch before the Warrior's name - i really like medieval settings, so this one i'm very fond of, an example would be: Monarch Bluefur and Monarch Tigerheart, i would add queen and king, but i want this to remain to the cats that stay with their kits, since i want to add caretakers for this, maybe add theses titles to them too?

Chief before the Warrior's name - i don't have much to say for this one, i didn't consider this, until i remember that some of the people that i play Warriors rpg with, call the leaders there "Chief", so i added this here, some examples would be: Chief Leopardfur and Chief Talltail;

Leader before the Warrior's name - more simple and kinda boring, some examples would be: Leader Rowanclaw and Leader Crookedjaw.

The full name would be formal thing, so like in a more casual sense(like with friends, family, mate etc), they would be called just their Warrior name instead without their title.

Besides changing the name, i want to add leader marks, an headcanon originally created by Gekkozilla, so all credits of this idea goes to her.

Each Clan would have a specific mark for their leaders, so here's what each clan mark is:

Thunderclan: obviously, the leader's mark is a lightning bolt;

Riverclan: also obvious, a drop of water;

Windclan: a swirl of wind or maybe a tornado symbol;

Shadowclan: is a very difficulty one, but maybe something like the Clan's logo, or maybe a half moon;

Skyclan: a cloud or a tree seedling.

The mark can be in the head, neck, chest or in the shoulder, and depending of the cat's pelt colour, would be a darker or lighter fur.

Here some very rough sketchs, for examples of theses concept:

Thunderclan(Bluefur):

Riverclan(Crookedjaw):

Shadowclan(Brokentail):

Windclan(Talltail):

Skyclan(Leafdapple):

The marks can have some slight differences, depending on the leader, Brokentail's mark is more square like compared to Rowanclaw more circular mark.

A little note: The designs are not final, this is just an experimental drawing, since this is not my usual style.

And also, i want to change how some marks and cats look like in the sketch(principally Tall's and Leaf's marks).

Any grammar errors, tell me so i can fix it.

Português 🇧🇷

Uma coisa que eu sempre quis mudar, é maneira que os nomes do líderes são, tipo, é legal nomes como Estrela azul e Estrela solar(acho que assim seria o nome brasileiro do Sunstar), mas eu acho que quebra a diversidade em nomes e principalmente, tira alguns nomes únicos e significativos com "estrela", como Coração de fogo e Pé preto.

Então eu quero que o nome de guerreiro deles continue o mesmo, enquanto ter alguma coisa mostrando o título deles, eu tenho quatro ideais para isso.

A estrela continua, mas na frente ou antes do nome - como isso diz, a estrela seria na frente ou antes do nome, um exemplo seria: Estrela Coração de fogo ou Coração de fogo Estrela, honestamente, eu diria que a primeira é a melhor;

Monarca antes do nome - eu gosto de cenários medievais, então este daqui eu até gosto bastante, um exemplo seria: Monarca Pelo azul e Monarca Coração tigrado ou Monarca Coração de tigre, eu ia adicionar rainha e rei, mas quero que fiquem com os gatos que ficam com seus filhotes, desde que eu queria adicionar cuidadores para isso, talvez adicionar mais títulos para eles?

Chefe antes do nome - eu não tenho muito o que dizer desse, eu não tinha considerado isso, até eu lembrar que o pessoal que eu jogo Rpg de Gatos guerreiros com, chamam os líderes de "chefe" ou "chefia", então eu queria adicionar isso aqui, alguns exemplos disso: Chefe Pelo de leopardo e Chefe Cauda alta;

Líder antes do nome - mais simples e meio desinteressante, alguns seriam: Líder Garra de sorveira e Líder Mandíbula torta.

O nome completo seria um treco mais formal, então em senso mais casual(família, amigos, companheiro/a e etc), eles apenas seriam chamados pelos seus nomes de guerreiros sem o título.

Além de mudar o nome, eu quero adicionar as marcas de líder, um headcanon originalmente criado por Gekkozilla, então todos os créditos vão para ela.

Cada Clã teria uma marca específica para seus líderes, então aqui está qual seria a marca de cada Clã;

Clã do trovão: obviamente, a marca seria um raio;

Clã do rio: também óbvio, uma gota d'água;

Clã do vento: um redemoinho de vento ou talvez um símbolo de um tornado;

Clã das sombras: é um bem difícil de decidir, mas algo semelhante a logo do Clã, ou talvez uma meia lua;

Clã do céu: uma nuvem ou uma muda de árvore.

A marca pode ser na cabeça, no pescoço, no peito ou no ombro, e dependendo da cor da pelagem do gato, seria com pelo claro ou escuro.

Aqui alguns rascunhos bem brutos, para uns exemplos desses conceitos:

Clã do trovão(Pelo azul):

Clã do rio(Mandíbula torta):

Clã das sombras(Cauda quebrada):

Clã do vento(Cauda alta):

Clã do céu(Mancha de folha):

As marcas podem ter algumas pequenas mudanças, dependendo do líder, a marca de Cauda quebrada é mais quadrada em comparação à marca mais circular de Garra de sorveira.

Uma pequena nota: Os designs não são finais, isso é mais um desenho experimental, já que não é meu estilo que eu geralmente uso.

E inclusive, eu vou mudar como algumas marcas e como alguns gatos se parecem no rascunho(principalmente de Cauda alta e Mancha de folha).

Qualquer erro de gramática, me falem e eu irei consertar.

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hjorthoover2 · 2 years

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The Five Most Expensive Hermes Belts Money Should Buy

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scoupssolo · 3 years

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17 Days of Seventeen: D-16 ➥ Favorite Music Video: Oh My!

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beyondspaceandstars · 3 years

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hi dear!! do you think that you could do a loki laufeyson smut oneshot with the prompt “Doing so good for me, honey.” it’s okay if not!! thank you for considering!

Slow and Sweet

Relationship: Loki x Reader

Warnings: SMUT, NSFW, penetrative sex, dirty talk - 18+, minors DNI

Word Count: 2k

A/N: This uses some of my favorite cheesy tropes so I hope that’s okay! thank you so much for requesting, I hope this was alright!

Masterlist

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Loki was unlike any other lover you had had before. A literal god, he exuded a dominance both inside and outside the bedroom that you were very much addicted to. He knew how to take care of you in every way shape and form, having you weak and babbling as he pulled pleasure out of you for hours in bed using ropes, toys, degradation… Anything to get you off in the rawest way possible.

And you very, very much enjoyed it all, obviously. Loki’s style of loving was so fresh and inviting. You had never been with a man that could be so commanding. Heck — you never thought you’d be attracted to any kind of commanding from any man. But while he brought out a secret primal side in you, at heart, you were still a sucker for softer, more loving nighttime activities.

You just… You just didn’t know how to bring it up with him. For as much of a confident man he could be, you knew some insecurities lied beneath that armor. He was always very insistent at the end of your nights that you let him know if you enjoyed yourself. You certainly never lied but you also really, really craved something slow.

Still unsure, you called a friend one night to vent and hope she had some ideas. Really, though, she didn’t understand your dilemma.

"Girl, you’re getting railed by an Asgardian God. I don’t understand the problem."

You sighed into the phone, gripping it between your shoulder and cheek as you began prepping dinner. "I don’t know. I just want him to be a bit softer, I think. Maybe something closer to love-making."

She chuckled. "Do you think he even has that in him?"

"Of course," you said. "He’s more than sweet out in public. There’s no reason that can’t translate into the bedroom."

"Well, then I think you should just tell him."

"I know, but-,"

Your words were cut off suddenly but the sound of something loudly hitting the dinner table behind you. You jumped, turning abruptly to find Loki standing in the kitchen, staring you down. He must’ve thrown his book on the table to get your attention. You looked between the item and him.

All while you’re engaged in a staring contest with your visibly confused boyfriend, your friend is screaming at you on the other end of the line asking what happened.

"I-I’ll call you back," you said quickly into the receiver before ending the call. The vibe in the room had gone cold. You didn’t know how but you knew Loki knew.

Still, you forced a smile, deciding maybe it was best to act like you weren’t discussing such intimacies with a third party. "Hey, babe," you said before turning back to the food you were preparing.

Loki didn’t respond and you were way too nervous to look over your shoulder. You focused on the slicing of vegetables very, very closely…

A hand landed on your hip. He was behind you now. You could practically feel him breathing down your neck. His hard body was pressed to your back. But nothing about him seemed to scream angry or hurt. He was amazingly calm.

"Who was that on the phone?" Loki asked. He was just about whispering in your ear. You gulped, trying to keep your focus on the cutting board in front of you.

"My- My friend," you responded. Another hand was suddenly on your other hip, pulling you into your boyfriend. You sighed at the contact.

"That’s nice," he hummed. "Must be good to catch up with your friend."

"Yeah-,"

"But tell me, dear, do your conversations together always end up with you complaining about our sex life?"

You shook your head. "Loki, I wasn’t complaining-,"

"You want me to be softer," he gritted.

You sighed, placing your kitchen knife back on the counter and pushing away the vegetables. Dinner was definitely on hold now. "That doesn’t mean I’m complaining," you explained. "I love what we do so much, you make me feel incredible, but I also want to slow down sometimes. I’ve loved exploring the rougher side of sex with you, I just… I want the other side of it, too. A balance, maybe."

There was a lull for a moment before Loki hesitantly spoke, "I’m afraid I won’t know how to."

You closed your eyes, absolutely dreading hearing the words you had feared. But you pulled through, slowly nodding your head, trying to accept it. "Alright, I understand—"

"But I want to try."

"Y-You do?"

He nodded as one of his hands slowly began creeping its way up and under your blouse. His hands were so rough compared to your soft skin. As Loki’s hand brushed over your bra-covered breasts, warm lips began decorating your neck with kisses. He nipped and sucked still but it was nothing compared to how he used to do it. It didn’t feel like he was trying to devour but instead savor you.

"Is this close to what you had in mind?" Loki asked, his voice dropping lowly. You moaned in response as his hand began traveling south, fingers light and delicate as they skimmed the top of your shorts.

Your eyes slowly drifted shut in anticipation as you murmured, "Feels good…"

Loki tsked. His hand stopped. "You haven’t felt anything yet."

There was a swooshing sound. You opened your eyes and in your confusion took in the sights of your bedroom. Loki was still pressed behind you. You were facing the bed.

"If my darling wants traditional loving then it needs to happen in a traditional spot, correct?"

You wanted to comment that being transported to the bedroom in such a manner wasn’t traditional by any means but before you could speak, Loki was guiding you to the bed, sitting you at the edge of it.

He dropped to his knees in front of you, throwing one of your legs over his shoulder. "Are you…" You began to ask but were cut off by him placing a kiss in your inner thigh.

"Now," he mumbled into your skin, "I prefer to feast rather hungrily but I’m going to try it your way, okay?"

You bit your lip, nodding slowly, completely hypnotized by the sight of Loki kneeling for you. Usually, when he ate you out you were completely lying down in bed. He had never dropped to the floor for you.

"Terrific," he said and with a flick of the wrist, your clothes had vanished.

Again, you wanted to bite back that that certainly wasn’t part of old-fashioned love-making but your protests were silenced by his tongue finding your clit. Gently, he moved in soft, tight circles around your clit before testing your folds. Instinctively, your hands flew to his hair, tangling your fingers in his dark locks as your body arched in pleasure.

Loki let out a low hum at your grip before his tongue slowly maneuvered its way inside you, caressing your folds. You gasped as his tongue worked on you, bringing you closer to an orgasm. He began altering now from your folds to your clit, pulling pleasure in surprising ways. To add to it all, Loki’s hands were running up and down your thighs as he went. You didn’t know what it was about the simple touch but it was driving you crazy.

The longer you stared, the faster the tongue worked, the closer you were getting… Your brain was spinning as you felt your orgasm building.

"I-I’m-," you tried muttering out but Loki seemed to get the memo. Abruptly, he removed all contact. You gasped, a bit surprised, a bit angry. You shot daggers at him.

"Patience, honey," he snickered, "You wanted it slow and sweet, didn’t you?"

"Yes, but…" Your words couldn’t finish, once again, as Loki attached his lips to yours. Slowly, he pushed you back on the bed as your tongues now fought with one another. You were completely encapsulated in tasting remnants of yourself on him and the kind way he was kissing you, you didn’t even realize what was happening until your head hit your pillow.

His lips left yours and began working down to your jaw, your neck, across your breasts… It felt like he was loving every inch of your skin. You felt truly beautiful, admired, at that moment as he practically worshipped you. He placed a quick kiss on your clit and you thought maybe he’d continue his actions down there but then he was back, face level with you.

"Fair warning, darling," Loki whispered, "it’s going to take all the patience I possess to go slow once my cock is buried deep in your soaking core."

His gaze was intense, almost too much, but you just nervously nodded and waited. Loki intertwined one of your hands together while the other one fell to your hip. Typically, at this point he’d just grab your waist and pull you into him, never giving you the chance to breathe or adjust. He’d fuck you a bit wildly, letting bruises from his fingertips litter your skin.

Tonight, though, everything was with a lighter touch. And when he entered you, he stopped halfway, letting you both really feel the moment. You moaned at the fullness as Loki groaned in your ear. When settled, he eased in fully and you were just about done for.

You could see Loki resisting the urge to just take you relentlessly but then he placed a gentle kiss on your lips and pulled out a little, slowly, before diving back in. Your back arched as you felt every inch of him, really felt him. It was so snug but just right. You felt your wetness pooling shamelessly.

"That’s it," Loki groaned as his pace continued at a slightly antagonizing slow rhythm. "Doing so good for me, honey."

"Feels amazing…" You sighed, taking in every time Loki’s cock would nudge the right spot or stretch you just a little bit more. It felt… It felt like a first time. Like you two had been saving this moment.

Loki’s pace picked up just slightly and you knew he was getting close. That was maybe one thing he could never resist — chasing his orgasm with you at all cost. You snaked your free hand down to your clit, working for that extra pleasure but Loki’s hand on your hip quickly pushed it away.

"I’ve got you, darling," he whispered and replaced your fingers with his. He rubbed tight, cautious circles on your clit. You squealed as your orgasm began approaching quicker and quicker.

"Please," you begged, "I need to cum." Loki could never resist your begging and it seemed to drop the facade a bit. The circles and pumping picked up even faster. It hit you at that moment that while you loved the slow foreplay, getting fucked in such unconventional ways was really delightful.

Loki must’ve felt your walls tightening because he mumbled, a bit weakly, "Cum for me, dear. Come on, cum for me."

A few more flicks on your clit and you were there. Your back arched off the bed again as your body shook. Your orgasm filled you just as Loki was now filling you. The warmth of both actions consumed your body, bringing pleasure beyond belief. You twisted and turned on the bed as you two slowly came down from the highs.

Loki gently wrapped his arms around you, still huffing and puffing from his own pleasure. He was still inside you as he laid on the bed. You could feel his release leaking out of you and onto your thighs. You sighed, very content.

"Was… Was that okay?" Loki eventually hesitantly asked. You were watching the ceiling, still trying to get your breathing under control, as he stared at you. He disconnected your hands and began carefully running his fingers through your hair, lovingly.

You nodded. "That was lovely," you smiled. "Thank you."

"I just want to make sure that every time you leave this bed, you’re satisfied."

"I-I didn’t mean to make you think I’m not satisfied," you mumbled. "I’m always pleased when you’re pleasing me."

Loki grinned at the silly phrase. "Good," he said then began moving a sneaky hand down your body. It stopped where you two were still connected. You let out a sharp breath at his touch. "Would a round two be satisfying? You’ve had your love-making. Now I want to fuck you."

You could barely nod your head in response before Loki was pouncing on you.

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soulmate-game · 3 years

Text

New fic *test*

New Bio!dad Bruce story? I’m testing out this first chapter, and if I like where it’s going I might add it to my growing pile of WIPs. If I have inspiration, I might as well use it. Because of life events stressing me the hell out, I’m throwing any writing plans out the window and I’m purely gonna write to destress right now. Whether that means updating THG or not, or continuing Maribat March, we’ll just have to see how this all pans out. Things are subject to day-to-day change.

I got inspiration from this from rereading my day 1 story for Bio!dad Bruce Wayne month from last year. I’m just gonna change a few things.

—*—*—*—*—*

For once, an unfamiliar face attracted the attention of everyone who caught even a glimpse of them. It wasn’t even because of the person themselves at first, but their dress. The skirt like the most fantastical of storybook ball gowns, fluffy layers of satin over a luxurious petticoat, with a stunning pink floral pattern whose busy appearance was tastefully offset by a shorter, sheer layer of leaf green tulle artistically weaved and somehow sculpted over the floral in order to tame it. The effect turned what should be a grandmotherly pattern into something softer, sophisticated and youthful and yet also reminiscent of fairytale princesses. Over top the short layer of green tulle was an even shorter later of white tulle, almost invisible except for the elegant embroidery of crystal-white vines that twined all over it, connecting the green below it to the bottom-most floral pattern and oddly adding a layer of childishness instead of maturity. At the waist of the dress was a dark plum pink satin ribbon, to separate the elaborate ballgown skirt from the bodice. Attached to the simple ribbon was a large brooch of fabric flowers, with a single plastic ladybug in the center.

The bodice of the dress came up into a cheongsam neckline, but was sleeveless. It was a simple design, of half green and half dark pink, with a white border separating the two. The white border had expertly done embroideries in a soft silver thread that would only be visible close up, the images the thread made being that of fairies and ladybugs dancing around one another.

It was, all in all, a stunning display that made the small eurasian woman wearing them look like absolute royalty. Perhaps a long lost fairy princess. Her black-blue hair was even done up in elaborate looping braids and a braided bun, with silver and green pins that further completed the regal ensemble. And yes, while the expertly done dress was what initially captivated her current audience, it was not what kept them from leaving her alone. That was all her personality, bubbly and bright as her blinding smile. It was a sunny disposition that very few people present had any exposure to at all, and it drew them like a sunflower to the daylight. They could not help but flock closer, or even just stand back and keep themselves turned to her presence. Already she had been at the gala for two hours, but there was no issue. She just kept proving her generosity, admitting she had donated both a dress and a suit of her own making to the charity auction that would begin soon, one of the main attractions of the gala. She skillfully charmed the more snooty of the attendants, and artfully twisted her words so that they felt compelled to donate more money that they truly had no use for. Later, they would remember their donation and wonder what compelled it, but come up with no satisfying answer.

And yet she was entirely unaware of her more silent audience, who stood back and observed. Truth be told, every one of them was glad to not be the center of that attention for a change, to have room to breathe for so long at an event where usually that commodity was so scarce that it demanded a fierce competition for. Compared to her garden of color, they were all shadows in shades of blacks and blues and whites, with a touch of red here and there that was entirely too thematic for their home city. The one who sported a royal blue suit tilted his head at the scene they were all calmly witnessing, his bright azure eyes glittering.

“She’s like magic,” he mused, clearly enchanted despite having not said a single word to the woman. “Perfect socialite. She’s kind, generous, she made that dress and the ones she donated to the auction herself so she’s obviously got an intimidating amount of skill for her age. She even tricks those old fuddy-duddies into spending money. It’s like a dream come true!”

“I don't trust it,” the one to his right said, a man just a few inches shorter in a classic black suit with a red dress shirt underneath. He absently swept his bangs away from his face as he narrowed his eyes at the woman. “It seems too perfect. She doesn’t have any identifiable character flaw, except maybe being a little clumsy and too energetic. She does babble a little… but nothing that actually suggests any depth besides her just being— good. That’s impossible, and I don’t trust it.”

“Tt. I agree with Drake for once. She seems entirely too comfortable with this setting, despite her blushes and rambles,” the one who spoke this like was taller, clearly a teen in the middle of his growth spurt. He, too, wore a plain black suit but his had subtle charcoal embroidery and he wore an emerald-green dress shirt under it that made his matching eyes gleam dangerously. “It seems almost playacted. Expertly so, but nonetheless not entirely genuine.”

“Wow, not many pick up on that. I’m gonna give your observations a solid eight out of ten. They’re all perfectly sound, but not quite complete,” a new voice made all of the silent group stiffen— somehow they had been snuck up on. The newcomer smirked at them as if having fully expected their reaction but still being pleased at being able to evoke it. This was yet another stunner; far too much color in her outfit to be a Gotham native, and far too much skill in the construction for it to signify anything less than extreme influence. She had bright golden-blond hair that was coiled into a low bun, with her bangs artfully curled and arranged to display her crystal blue eyes.

In contrast to the garden-themed dress of the Eurasian woman who had garnered their attention at first, this newcomer was wearing a pantsuit. It was all in a dark honey-gold, in a stiff fabric with construction that made it lay entirely in perfect, straight lines and hug her form in the right places. Black embroidery decorated the long, flared sleeves and pant legs and dripped around the square neckline like a faux necklace. A cape made out of the same material as the rest of the pantsuit was draped on one shoulder. It started out as the same honey-gold color, but it became a gradient as it faded to a solid black at the ends. Gold thread embroidery decorated the solid black bottom of the cape in delicate, deceptively simplistic swirls. The top half of the pantsuit was clearly inspired by military garb, simultaneously rigidly constructed yet fitted, with circular onyx buttons going down the center of the chest and a thick metal belt, all in swirling silver and black, sat perfectly clasped around her waist. It was far more solid-colored and simplistic compared to the fairytale dress in the center, but no less show stopping and luxurious. It simply showcased an entirely different attitude, almost as if the two women could never get along if their personalities matched their outfits.

“And who are you?” The man who had been the center of the group of shadow-like adults spoke up, back straightening to milk every speck of his generous six-feet-and-three-inches of height. This was none other than Bruce Wayne, the host of this annual charity gala. And normally, his current stance would either intimidate or utterly charm whoever it was directed at— but not this pantsuit-clad blond warrior. Her smirk merely widened, and her blue eyes took on a slight shade of teal as if trying to mimic the dangerous ocean depths.

“I am Chloe Bourgeois, the daughter of Andre Bourgeois, the mayor of Paris, and Audrey Bourgeois, the Style Queen. It’s nice to meet you again, Monsieur Wayne,” she introduced herself imperiously. “I also happen to be the best friend of the girl you were just staring at.”

Bruce nodded, but had trouble reconciling this clear powerhouse of a woman with the bratty and entitled preteen he had met years ago, at the last gala she had attended with her mother. “Of course, I didn’t recognize you at first Chloe. You’ve grown a lot since the last Gala I saw you at.”

Chloe wrinkled her nose, clearly not appreciating the reminder. “I was a bitch,” she admitted easily, seemingly not at all bothered by the confession. It caused not only Bruce but also the oldest three of his sons, who had all also met her in the past, to blink in silent shock. “Things have changed. Paris is apparently the perfect chaotic environment right now to promote emotional growth and smack spoiled kids over the head with reality,” she shrugged. Part of the reason her and her whole class had even been able to come to the Gala in the first place was the fact that Bruce wanted to offer the most attacked group of Parisians a respite and some support from their crazy lives. The fact that even Gotham seemed sane in comparison to Paris was a bit of a hard hit for both involved parties, but in the end everyone understood that “more sane” didn’t always equate with “less dangerous.” Considering all that, Chloe had no reason to sugarcoat the situation in her home city. “But it wasn’t easy at all, and Marinette was largely responsible for my improvement too.”

“Marinette?” The heathen who somehow got away with attending a gala in a black leather jacket over a dress shirt and suit pants asked, raising a brow. Chloe nodded.

“The girl you were just goggling at. Marinette Dupain-Cheng, the class president and resident workaholic. Does she ever sleep? Nobody knows,” Chloe shrugged.

The blue-suited man, Dick Grayson, shot a suspicious glance at Tim, who was standing to his right, as if he was worried his brother had made a female clone of himself just so he could continue to work hard and never rest. Tim ignored him and sipped from the thermos of coffee he had somehow snuck in.

Bruce cleared his throat to bring the focus back onto himself, and shot his most charming smile at Chloe. “They would have known who she was, if they had read the brief information I gave them about your class. But they never do listen to me,” he complained with good humor. “But back to the original topic, Miss Bourgeois, do you care to correct us on how our observations are lacking?”

Chloe laughed easily, smiling and nodding to indicate Marinette, still stuck in a circle of socialites and not seeming the least bit worn out.

“Of course. First; She is not completely acting. She really is like magic sometimes— disgustingly kind, generous, far too willing to help just about anyone for just about any reason. She’s one of the best people I’ve ever met, as much as it pains me to admit it. But she is exaggerating her personality a bit and hiding the parts she doesn’t want anyone to see, so there is a little acting involved. Just not as much as you seem to think,” Chloe then waved her arm in a flourish as if she were presenting Marinette to them. “In short; behold Mari Dupain-Cheng, the ridiculously likeable, disgustingly cute, extremely philanthropic mask that she shows everyone at public events like this. You don’t see any of the insomnia, or the anxiety, or the self doubt. Just the parts she wants you to see, accompanied with a smile to blind you to everything else,” her all-too-deep blue eyes settled back on Bruce then, a knowing glint shining in them. “Don’t you think that’s ridiculously similar to Brucie Wayne for you, Monsieur? Utterly, ridiculously, similar?”

Bruce grit his teeth. He hadn’t expected anyone else to know about his exceptionally well hidden secret, not even his kids had caught on or found his buried evidence yet. Yet his heiress comes up, nearly flaunting her knowledge in his face with all too many unspoken questions and criticisms.

And her cryptic words had succeeded in making all of his kids look at him with extreme suspicion. Shit.

“What are you saying, Miss Bourgeois?” he cautiously prodded. She hummed noncommittally before dropping the bomb all too casually;

“I’m saying I’ve seen her adoption papers, and you won’t be able to run from her for long Monsieur Wayne. As soon as she gets an opening, she’s going to pounce,” Chloe’s eyes glittered dangerously again. “And nowadays, Marinette doesn’t ever let people escape her. Your problem with adoption has created a rather unique problem, you know. You’re at fault for a large majority of her self confidence issues, and I want you to know that I am not going to forget or forgive that anytime soon.”

“Bruce,” Jason’s voice was dark and threatening. “What is she talking about?”

“Something we don’t want getting in the tabloids,” Yet another new voice popped up, allowing Chloe to smugly sink back into the background.

Somewhere during their discussion, Marinette had ambushed them.

“Chloe and I are very good at locating all the reporters in a room and distracting them, but we’re not infallible and this event has far too much coverage,” Her smile reeked confidence and charm, but this close all the Waynes could see the doubt hiding in her bluebell eyes. “Since I’m about to turn eighteen, I figured this would be as good a time as any to finally confront you. I want to make it clear that I seek nothing from you, except the occasional contact. I would like to keep in touch, if nothing else. But if you are adverse to that… then at least answer my questions after the gala,” her eyes developed a hint of carefully controlled desperation. “Please.”

Bruce met her eyes evenly, trying to read her. But she was difficult, simultaneously too many emotions to sort through in her demeanor and much too little. After an extremely tense moment of silence, his voice came out barely above a whisper:

“You do not want anybody to know?”

And hell, if she didn’t recognize the hidden vulnerability in his voice as the very same she heard in her own far too often. In a much tamer version of her own rambling, he went on:

“I can keep it silent if that is what you want. But I want you to know that I will not be adverse to you admitting it anywhere. I don’t expect you to change your name, but I would not be ashamed of the truth getting out. I am not ashamed of it, of you.”

Marinette’s smile grew a little watery. She had to clear her throat to keep herself from tearing up. “Maybe eventually, but not yet. I… I want to stay a little more anonymous for now. It’s one thing to be a well known designer with good connections. It’s an entirely different thing to be…”

“A Wayne?” Bruce finished, ignoring the daggers that were being stared into his back. “I understand completely.

“Father,” Damian’s voice was all sharp edges and rapidly suppressed panic. “What. Is going. On?”

Marinette shot him an apologetic smile. “Apparently, eighteen years ago, his prerogative was to put the child he actually knew about up for adoption when the mother died in childbirth,” her voice was once again only barely loud enough for them to hear, since she didn’t want any eavesdroppers. “Imagine my surprise when I find out he completely flipped sides only months later.”

--*--*--*--*--*

Hey, so please share your feedback on this. This is just to test out a possible new bio dad, multichapter fic and this is the opening scene I'm trying out. If you like it, please tell me what you like about it and please suggest titles for the story! I love you guys' feedback so much!

#maribat #bio!dad au #bio!dad bruce wayne #platonic daminette #platonic jasonette #platonic dickinette #platonic timinette #platonic timari #mlb x dc #ml x dc #maribat fic #platonic brucinette #older sister Marinette

871 notes · View notes

kurowrites · 3 years

Text

That Boy.

So, as the start into the new year, have Lan Zhan getting hounded by his brother’s groupies and despairing over Wei Ying’s compulsive flirting. :)

---

“Hello, handsome,” the woman said, smiling at Lan Zhan.

Lan Zhan looked at her, and tried to remember if they had met somewhere before. She was carefully styled, wearing a tight black dress and high heels, with long hair and equally long red nails. She looked somewhat out of place in this cosy coffee shop, more like she was on her way to a fancy event than looking for a cup of coffee. It was certainly someone he would remember, if they had indeed met before. She was, however, entirely unfamiliar to him.

And if that had not been enough of a hint yet, there was a certain gleam in her eye that immediately put him on edge. Her smile was friendly, but there was something about her that made her feel not unlike a predator, smiling at her prey before she opened her mouth and swallowed it.

Lan Zhan sighed internally. Another one of his brother’s fans, he assumed.

He was happy about his brother’s success, and he would always support Lan Huan, there was no doubt about that. But ever since Lan Huan had his big break as a pop musician two years ago, right after he left university, Lan Zhan had found himself constantly hounded by fans of Lan Huan. Some of them genuinely confused Lan Zhan with his brother and were thrilled to meet a pop star on the streets. Others confused him with Lan Huan, but also hit on him in the process, trying to shoot their shot with a celebrity. (Which would never happen, Lan Zhan thought uncharitably. His brother was better than that.)

The ones that were possibly the worst, however, were those that had done their homework, realised that Lan Zhan was not his famous brother, and still decided to go after him. Those were usually the ones that were the most difficult to get rid of, and they came in all shapes, sizes and genders.

Frankly, Lan Zhan was getting tired. He was getting tired of people hitting on him in general, but he was particularly tired of people hitting on him because he was the brother of a celebrity who also happened to look very similar to said celebrity.

He glanced at the woman who had accosted him while he was drinking his tea, and tried to figure out which category she belonged to. And, of course, how he could get rid of her quickly and efficiently.

He wanted to drink his tea in peace.

She did not seem to be cowed by his critical glance, and gestured to the empty armchair across from him.

“Are you here on your own?” she asked. “Do you mi-”

Before she could finish her words, there was a mad scramble, and with rather more noise than necessary, a large cup of coffee was unceremoniously dumped onto the small table between the two armchairs, and one Wei Ying dove onto the empty armchair across from Lan Zhan, throwing his bag under the table as he did so.

“Sorry, m’lady,” Wei Ying said as he pushed his hair, messy from his athletic stunt, out of his face. He smiled at her broadly and in a way that showed that he very much was not sorry. “This place was reserved for me. I fear you have to look for another seat.”

The woman stared at him in disbelief. She opened her mouth, presumably to lodge a complaint, but Wei Ying could not be bothered. Ignoring her, he directed his gaze towards Lan Zhan.

“So Lan Zhan,” he said loudly. “I heard that you got engaged. Congratulations, I have to say. Took you long enough. Where you failing to find the perfect engagement ring or what?”

Without another word, the woman turned around and walked away in a huff.

Lan Zhan was not sorry to see her go. Still, he felt his face twist into a frown. Wei Ying’s words made no sense to him. What engagement was Wei Ying talking about?

“Wei Ying, I have not gotten engaged.”

Wei Ying laughed loudly, his face shining with mirth.

“Lan Zhan! Of course you didn’t get engaged! I just said that to make her leave! You should have seen your face when she descended on you, like a small, helpless rabbit! Of course I had to help!”

He sighed dramatically and reached out to take hold of his overly large coffee cup.

“I know Lan Zhan is handsome and irresistible, but the nerve of that woman. You were obviously not up for conversation! It’s your strictly scheduled tea break! Which is why I will drink my coffee in silence now, so you can meditate over your tea or whatever it is you do.”

He took a big gulp of his coffee.

Lan Zhan considered Wei Ying for a moment. He was obviously grateful for Wei Ying’s unexpected help, but it came with two problems: First, Wei Ying never did anything silently. Second, Wei Ying himself flirted with Lan Zhan incessantly, calling him handsome and whatnot, so in all fairness, he was hardly better than any of the overenthusiastic Lan Huan fans that approached him.

There might also have been a third problem, though Lan Zhan did not admit to that. He definitely did not notice Wei Ying’s handsome face, brightened by his irreverent, sparkling smile. Neither did he notice his long, deft fingers, carelessly tapping out rhythms on the coffee cup, nor the way he was slouched on the armchair in a way that should have looked sloppy, but instead ended up looking artfully draped.

After all, it was only Wei Ying, irredeemable and obnoxious flirt, and there was nothing for Lan Zhan to notice.

Still.

“Thank you,” Lan Zhan said, because he was grateful. “I think she mistook me for my brother.”

Wei Ying raised his eyebrows, an incredulous expression on his face.

Lan Zhan could divine the meaning of that look. After all, Lan Huan was the friendly, approachable one out of the two of them, and he was also a pop star. Certain physical similarities aside, no one with eyes in their head should ever mistake Lan Zhan for his smiling, gentle older brother.

Wei Ying was evidently of the same opinion.

“Haha, Lan Zhan, don’t worry about it,” he eventually replied between two sips of coffee. “I could hardly have looked on while the impeccable, incomparable Lan er-gege was in distress.”

There we go again, Lan Zhan thought to himself, trying to suppress an eyeroll. Incorrigible.

---

It was not often that Lan Zhan went out with his brother, considering that his brother was a very busy person, so of course they had to run into Wei Ying when they did the next time.

Oh no, Lan Zhan thought to himself when he saw Wei Ying’s eyes flit back and forth between Lan Huan and himself.

This, he would have wanted to avoid. Permanently.

It had been his biggest fear, ever since he had met Wei Ying. Wei Ying was bad enough with Lan Zhan, when he could hope for nothing and had no encouragement. How Wei Ying would act once he had the encouragement of a friendly disposition in addition to Lan Zhan’s oh-so-handsome face, he had never wanted to know.

And now they stood in front of Wei Ying, giving him a truly perfect opportunity to compare and judge.

What the judgement would be, Lan Zhan already knew.

(It would never be him.)

“Lan Zhan!” Wei Ying chirped once he was apparently finished with his thorough analysis. “Is that your brother?”

“Lan Huan.” His brother stepped forward and introduced himself, always a little bit better at being polite than Lan Zhan. “It’s very nice to meet you.”

Wei Ying smiled at him, and Lan Zhan quietly begged Wei Ying not to say–

“Nice to meet you, Lan Huan,” Wei Ying said. “I’m Wei Ying, one of Lan Zhan’s university friends. Did you know, Lan Zhan staunchly refuses to talk about you? But actually, I think he’s really proud of you, and he’s just careful to not spread private information.”

Lan Zhan was so surprised about these words, he could only stand there and stare.

That… was not what he had expected from Wei Ying. After all, when it came to Lan Zhan, Wei Ying couldn’t open his mouth without saying something flirty or suggestive.

And know he looked Lan Huan in the face and managed with a simple ‘nice to meet you’?

“Thank you,” Lan Huan replied with a small, but genuine smile, completely unaware of Lan Zhan’s current internal crisis. “I’m proud of him too.”

Suddenly, Wei Ying perked up.

“I know, right?” he asked excitedly. “He’s such a good, serious student. And so smart! And also ha-” he interrupted himself and coughed once. “Well. You are handsome, too. And he’s your brother. So I guess you know.”

He twirled his hair around his finger and pulled once.

“Well, I guess you have things you need to get done,” he chirped. “And I do too. Have a good time! And see you at university, Lan Zhan! Don’t be a stranger!”

With that, he hopped off, quick as a fox.

Lan Zhan just stared after him, not understanding what had just happened.

You are handsome, too.

When had Wei Ying, of all people, learned moderation?

When he turned back to Lan Huan, he found his brother smiling at him widely, and it put Lan Zhan on the defence immediately.

“What?” he asked, rather more harshly than he had intended to.

“Oh, A-Zhan,” Lan Huan said, his smile becoming smaller, but also more intimate. “I’m very happy for you.”

Lan Zhan frowned. Why would Lan Huan be happy for him? Because one of his university colleagues had finally managed not to embarrass themselves in front of Lan Huan? Because Wei Ying had managed not to completely expose himself? Because he had somehow survived this encounter without getting his heart smashed to tiny pieces?

Of course, there was no good way to ask these questions.

“I think you should move fast, dear brother,” Lan Huan observed, continuing the conversation without needing any input from Lan Zhan. “He’s very handsome, this Wei Ying, is he not? And smart. You might have some stiff competition if you’re not careful, so you need to be quick.”

Lan Zhan stared at Lan Huan, uncomprehending.

What, exactly, was his brother talking about?

“A-Zhan,” Lan Huan sighed when he saw that he had lost Lan Zhan. He reached out and squeezed Lan Zhan’s shoulder once, a quick, familiar comfort. “That boy only has eyes for you, and absolutely nothing else. I don’t think I have ever seen someone more in love.”

His brother let him go and walked away, leaving Lan Zhan standing there, as if he had not just dropped a bombshell of truly earth-shattering properties on him.

That boy only has eyes for you.

That boy.

Only has eyes for you.

Wei Ying??

#kuro writes #the untamed #wei wuxian #lan wangji #wangxian #mdzs

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elliotoille · 4 years

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Do you have any advice for understanding hands better? I’ve been practicing them for years but feel like compared to other aspects of anatomy it’s the one thing I haven’t seen much improvement in. I draw both from life and images and draw nearly everyday but nothing I’m doing seems to help

I personally get by mostly from remembering poses that I’ve already practiced a ton, like I figure out how to draw it once and am able to file that away in my brain and use it again later, and tweak bits of the pose or the level of simplification to suit what I’m drawing.

I’ve paid special attention to drawing hands for like.... most of my life so I have a LOT of poses I’m easy comfy with now, but when I need to figure out something complicated or new, I can usually work it out by breaking a hand down into shapes, remembering a few key points/”rules” from what I’ve learned about hands in order to help me break it down in a way that makes sense. And if that’s not enough either, then I take photo refs.

^^^ here is a pose I use a ton. I have a quick way of drawing it from various angles. the first time I had to draw a pose like this, I had to think and figure it out, but in drawing it a bunch of times and having to use various angles like this, I’ve eventually come up with a quick, reliable way to draw it from a few of the most common angles that fits the style I like to draw in. I’m blessed with a good memory for observations, so when I see a beautifully posed hand, I can usually really quickly analyze what I like about that pose and why, and that helps me absorb it so I can recreate my saved impression later. But I know not everyone thinks the same way. it might benefit you to quickly scribble down a study in a sketchbook when you see a pose you find beautiful and want to learn from for later.

^^^ here are some poses I had to stop and spend time figuring out, calling up the “rules” for how hands are built to kind of logic-out how they should look from angles I’m less familiar with. results can be mixed, but... if I end up with something expressive that fits the style of the rest of the drawing, I’m usually really forgiving of fudged anatomy or slightly wonky proportions. as long as the thumb is on the right side and there aren’t too many fingers, that’s a great start lol.

^^^ and here are ones I had to take reference-selfies for. I try to use this as a last resort because 1) it’s a lot of trouble 2) interrupts my drawing and 3) if I’m not careful I stick too close to the reference, and the drawing ends up with the hand looking referenced and the rest of the pose not, which is jarring to me. not to mention I have tiny manlet wrists that without fail, look horrific and emaciated in photos, and the lens distortion makes my fingers look scary too... ugh, photo reference has definite flaws. I actually don’t like the look of drawings for which I can Really Tell the artist drew from photo reference, because most often that means they’re taking the ref too much at face value and incorporating ugly lens distortions into their drawing. so I have to think extra hard not only about interpreting the ref, but also might have to make multiple passes just to get the hand to look normal, AND match the style of the rest of the drawing.

Anyway, here are some of the ““rules””” I mentioned earlier that I fall back on to help me figure out more complicated poses:

1. probably seen this before, but basic proportions. the palm is usually half the total height of the hand. obviously you can mess with this purposefully.

2. I think of joints as like, ball joints or hinges. I find that easier than trying to remember bones & muscles. here’s a drawing of the wrist as a hinge. note that when you’re thinking of it this way, it’s a shortcut, but a shortcut is only good if you use it with precision. notice the pin for the wrist hinge is not just halfway, it’s closer to the top of the hand. being precise about that is what allows this shortcut to work. the heel of the palm juts out, while the top of the hand transitions into the wrist quite smoothly.

3. simplified planes. planes are important yo. in super simple terms: top is flat, bottom is round. this works on the fingers too, actually. the tops are bony and tendony, and the bottom is where the fat is, so it’s rounder and soft

thinking of the hand as abstract shapes REALLY helps simplify the task of drawing hands, and is just as helpful even if you are drawing from reference. I can say “the palm is a box” and obviously the palm is not really as simple as a box, but if I think of the palm, wrist, and each finger joint as various shapes of box, then all of a sudden, psychologically, my task is SO much easier. I’m not drawing a Hand, which is hard, I’m drawing boxes, which is easy.

4. that prominent knob some people have on their wrist? that’s on the pinky side.

1. the knuckles aren’t really a flat row on top. the hand is like a cup right, so your palm can hold water and things. so we can think of the hand as a box to make figuring out the pose easier, but when it comes down to it, you’ll want to make it more of a curve. this curve is why you can see multiple fingers in a side view

2. when curled up, the fingers nestle together. the fingernails also turn slightly toward the center. even if I’m simplifying the hands significantly, I usually still draw the fingernails because they are SO useful for communicating the pose of the hand effectively.

3. lots of people suggest to think of the hand as a mitten, grouping the pinky/ring/middle fingers and singling out the index finger. this works great, the index finger is more independent from the other three. on the flip side, those three are really stuck together; if you’re drawing the pinky curled up all the way, then you better not draw the ring finger sticking straight up, cause that would HURT. anyway, singling out the index finger leads to more interesting poses in my experience.

1. this is another illustration of top = flat and bottom = curved. this is a really easy way to organize your line quality. straight lines and sharper angles where there is bone, and soft gentle lines where there is muscle and fat. your drawing as a whole will read very clearly if you find some guidelines like that to stick to, as it means all your lines are intentional and thoughtful.

2. this one’s about overlaps. when forms overlap, it makes a crease, and when you draw that crease you’re communicating which form is in front of the other. in the second drawing I reversed all the creases, and it looks.... messed up. think about how pieces connect.

so when you’re trying to make up a pose without using specific reference, I think it’s good to think about the.... flow of energy through the pose. honestly, I know it’s really abstract, but if I have an ability to make interesting poses that communicate weight and movement, the things that make people say your character feels ALIVE, like they really EXIST in a space... it’s because I started to think of poses this way. imagining streams of energy bouncing through the body, flowing down the limbs and out through the fingers. this is why hands are so important to me, cause they’re where the kinetic energy of the pose ultimately ends up. I talk about it when drawing the torso and arms and legs, but an interesting drawing has a bounce back and forth between opposites: for every curve, an opposing straight line, alternating back and forth down the entire body. if you’re sensitive to the energy of the pose, then even very simple poses will be interesting to look at.

anyway, with regards to hands, I imagine the energy getting sort of cinched in as it passes through the wrist, and then emanating out through the fingertips. I hope my drawing at least SORT of communicates this imagery. it makes sense because that’s BASically how the bones in the hand are anyway. and then the right side of the image above is just demonstrating some highly simplified gestures. see how the fingers fan out and curl in, rarely parallel to eachother. when you’re figuring out the pose, using a line to stand in for the row of knuckles is super valuable.

aaand finally, here’s two hands where I intentionally neglected correct anatomy and proportion because I felt it worked better for the style of the whole drawing. Left side: since this is a really simple and cartoonish style, I was thinking back to kids’ and shoujo manga I have read where the style was very solid and distinctive, but definitely NOT overly concerned with correct anatomy, or even really drawing hands, uh, “well” at all. to me, that sort of approach has a Look that I like to invoke sometimes, since for years I felt like I learned a bunch of anatomy and proportion and drawing from life actually in detriment to the liveliness and appealness of my drawings. this hand is mushy and makes very little sense, but it turned out as intended. Right side: sometimes I like to pretend fingers only have 2 bones in them, cause i am a Queen and i do what i want

and there you go. I hope that helped, like, at all? Look at real hands and photos of hands and hands in motion, but also look at drawn hands as well. find what you like, and work towards expressing that yourself. and remember the hand is part of the whole drawing. not only in the art style like I’d been talking about, but because the angle and placement of the hand is reflected in the angles of the arm, which in turn reflects on the angles of the shoulder, which affects the whole torso, etc etc etc. and the techniques you can use to understand and draw the rest of the body, works on hands too. as you improve everything else, your hands will improve as well.

DISCLAIMER: I whipped up these diagrams quickly, they’re not meant to be good drawings or accurate refs, just diagrams to illustrate my thought process lol

#god im long winded as usual #Anonymous

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shreddedparchment · 4 years

Text

A Wife for Thor Pt.02

10/19/2020

No Lies in a Marriage

Pairing: King!Thor x Reader Word Count: 5,150

Warnings: angst, anxiety, panic attack, language

A/N: As I said in the post earlier today, you’ll probably see updates for this story often right now because it’s at the beginning and I know where I’m going pretty clearly and how to get there and it’s kinda just writing itself for right now. Anywho, I hope you enjoy this chapter! I love writing this reader with Thor...but I think it’s just because I love writing Thor. haha If you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work! xoxo

You sit up most of the night after talking to David, staring out your bedroom window at the small plot of land you call your own.

Your belonging. The only true one you’ve ever had.

It’s a small inheritance, sure but it’s yours. Yours alone. A sanctuary from the feeling of emptiness that you’d once felt wishing for something that felt like home. It’s more than even some will ever have.

You’re lucky.

And now you have to leave it behind?

There’s no denying your own part in this mess. You’d been given a choice and you’d made it, believe this outcome would never come. Yet here you are, betrothed and fated to be Queen of Asgard.

David comes to help you pack because he knows that you’ll be wallowing.

In shock you pack just as asked, essentials only which means for you, only your clothing, your laptop, and a very small collection of books are chosen.

You have no pictures to take with you. No family heirlooms or sentimental possessions. You fit it all into one large suitcase.

Funny. As you pack, you can’t help but imagine the lives your nomadic ancestors had lived. Much like you in these moments as you pack what little you have of your life away; they must have left everything behind over and over in their search for their own belonging.

It only takes you two hours to pack once David arrives and together you lug the suitcase down your little hallway to the front door.

There, a beautiful Asgardian stands waiting, her eyes on your own foggy expression with slight concern as David joins her and they lapse into quiet conversation as you continue to space out, thinking about the life you’re leaving behind.

Really, if you’re honest, it isn’t much of a life.

Yes, you have your routine. This is your house. Your things. But aside from that, there’s nothing here. Nothing but independence and solitude.

That’s enough, some would say. Others would wonder what you do with all your time.

Why hadn’t you found someone to share this life with? Someone who could appreciate the coziness of this place with you.

“Are you ready?” The Asgardian asks, Brunnhilde, her voice smooth but stern, yet not unkind.

You turn to look at her, hair gathered up on her head in a large bun. She’s dressed for the Norwegian weather she’s come from despite it being significantly hotter here.

She’s not bothered by it. Or if she is, she hides it well.

“Would it matter if I said no?”

“No.” She smiles at you, cheek bones so rounded and pretty you almost want to stroke them because you’ve rarely seen anyone so beautiful.

All of the Asgardians are beyond compare when it comes to looks. Even those that are plain radiate a golden aura. Godlike. Thor’s is the strongest and he’s most certainly the most beautiful to look at.

You’d been too afraid to admit it to yourself before because you’d been so decided against marrying him, but Thor is by far the loveliest man you’ve ever seen. Ideal. He’s exquisite.

And you get to marry him. Which doesn’t exactly feel like a bad thing.

Being chosen to marry Thor would be amazing, given the fantasies you’ve allowed yourself to indulge in since the day you met with him, if not for the fact that you know he’s in love with someone else. Someone who won’t marry him. Someone stupid, obviously.

And those fantasies you’d indulged in would never happen with someone else in his heart. So without that, all you have left is duty. Duty to Earth and its people, ensuring their safety and though you honestly don’t think Earth needs it, the assurance from the Asgardians that they will respect humans as the dominant lifeform on the planet.

Yes, the whole Queen of Asgard thing is a little daunting and will probably take over your life, so you can’t blame this mystery woman for not wanting to give up her own pursuits to take care of an entire people. To give up one identity for another? Yours is close enough to blank—your life nearly empty—that for you, this might not be such a great loss and yet, this leaves you wondering what this will do for you career.

Small as it is, you’ve had two books published. Limited releases with not much traction. Still, the accomplishment is your own. One you’re proud of.

Will you have to stop writing?

“There will be a dinner, to introduce you to Thor’s inner circle. Myself, Loki, a few others that serve directly under him.” Brunnhilde is saying, pulling you back to reality.

You look around, having zoned out so thoroughly that you hadn’t even realized you’d boarded a plane and taken off.

“The only one you’ll have to watch out for is Sif. She’s usually pretty nice, but she’s a little miffed about the whole marriage situation. From what I’ve heard, she’s had a thing for Thor since they were children. She’s a fierce warrior. Might want to avoid her altogether if possible. Asgardian women can be a little territorial.”

Lovely, another rival.

“So can human women.” You grumble, already hating the looks of what you suppose will be an onslaught of distractions for your future husband in the forms of beautiful women.

Brunnhilde quirks a brow, raising it high as she considers your words but doesn’t comment further.

“He’s never seen her as more than a comrade in arms. Or so he says.” She sounds unconvinced, but you recognize her attempt to calm you.

You stare, saying nothing more as your world is overturned.

“After dinner, you’ll spend some time with Thor. He wants to talk to you a bit. The wedding will be on Thursday. Thor’s idea. Full of himself, the idiot.” She’s smiling as she insults him, flipping the page of a magazine she’d grabbed from the pocket of the seat in front of her and you realize they must be close friends.

“Did he really pick me?” You wonder, knowing that her personality will only let her answer one way.

Brutally honest.

“Against all our recommendations.” She tells you. “Most of us were pulling for the Hungarian one. She had the schooling and the training. A little too eager for Thor, or so he said. And Loki. Loki was also in favor of you.”

“Loki?!” You gasp, remembering with great detail your chance meeting with the Asgardian prince.

“Oh yeah.”

Why would Loki want Thor to choose you? You weren’t exactly nice to him. Then again, you weren’t really mean either. Just…blunt.

More importantly, after the awkward conversation with Thor and his admission to marrying despite his feelings for someone else, his choice is the most confusing.

“Why did he pick me?” You plead. “Thor.”

“You’ll have to ask him tonight after dinner. I couldn’t tell you other than that he said he wanted someone real. Someone who knew what it’s like to be a normal person. Whatever that means.” Brunnhilde shrugs. “Normal is all relative. Odin, I need a drink.”

The plane ride is over too quickly and the ride to New Asgard even shorter. The village is large but not much larger than the town you’d grown up in. Plenty of houses and public spaces but nothing like a cityscape.

You’re surprised by the more modest choices they’ve made for their homes. Simple houses with wood siding and strong rooftops.

That is, most of the village is modest. Almost at the center of the largest grouping of buildings is a large multi-storied palace.

Just as it did the first time you saw it when you’d been brought for the meeting, you gasp when you see it, admiring the beauty of the structure bathed in afternoon sunlight.

It reminds you of an old Nordic home you’d seen online only on steroids. Four, maybe five stories? All roofs are tall and sharp, parts covered with moss.

Brunnhilde shows you into the main foyer, large and tall room that allows space large enough for people to stand and chat. Here she leaves you and David with a young Asgardian woman. She looks as if she can’t be more than seventeen but from what you know about Asgardian aging, she’s probably hundreds of years old.

She escorts you both to your new room, and you and David gasp at the sight.

Even though it’s smaller than the sitting room you’d been in when you met with Thor before, there’s a large bed immediately to the right, covered in luxurious plum and silver silk sheets. A large dark brown bear skin rug covers the center of the floor. To the left is an extravagant dark oak armoire, beside it a matching vanity with a low cushioned and backless seat.

On the far wall, between two sets of heavy wooden double doors that lead out to a balcony sits a desk and another seat with a black cushion, the same style as the vanity’s chair.

There’s a low hanging chandelier made of intricately twisted wood, reinforced with dark steel. The design of it makes you think there should be candles, but instead you find it furnished with small flame-shaped lightbulbs.

Along each of the walls are beautiful artworks, one of a singular mountain you’ve never seen on Earth. Another a golden palace with a sky of literal space above and behind it. There’s a smaller painting almost right above the bed and the likeness of it is so precise, you gasp again.

David follows your gaze with his mouth hanging open a little but then he chuckles. It’s a throaty sound as he turns away from you and moves further into the room with your bag while you deposit your purse on the bed, eyes glued to the painting.

“These Asgardians seem to be experts at everything.” David says, conversationally. “Their architecture, their music, their wits in battle. It seems even their art is exceptional.”

You’re still too busy staring to reply.

When David speaks again, he’s right beside you, voice dropped in volume.

“It must really look like him, to have you rendered speechless.” He observes.

“Yes.” You agree. “Just like him. Only now he has the eyepatch. He looks the same with two eyes. Less rugged but the same.”

“And he will remain the same, long after you’ve died, I think.” David admits.

“Yeah…” You swallow, looking down at the bottom of the frame.

The thought had only begun to occur to you when you’d been making your way through the city after Brunnhilde had confessed to being over a thousand years older than Thor and Loki.

“For Thor, this marriage will pass in the blink of an eye.” You sigh, feeling a little saddened by truth of that.

You turn around and sit down on the bed, resting your hands on your knees limply as you stare at the floor.

David squats before you, forearms on his knees.

“You’re serving a great purpose.” He tells you. “Ensuring the safety of the human race. You’re the white flag the Asgardians are waving. History will remember you, Y/N. It will not be in vain.”

Your eyes begin to water, and you nod, knowing he’s right.

“I know I just…” Your head gives an involuntary turn towards Thor’s portrait, but you manage to keep yourself from looking. “He’s in love with someone already. And, yeah, I’d never thought about being with someone before. But now that I’m faced with it, now that I know I’ll be his wife—I don’t know that I don’t want him to like me.”

“He may come around.” David consoles. “You’re a pretty girl and nice, even though you bite.”

His teasing draw a small curve of your lips. The levity however is quickly lost at the prospect of your life stretched out before you, never knowing love as your husband covets another woman.

This isn’t what you’d expected. To be fair you hadn’t expected anything, but now the idea of being married to Thor knowing that he’d much prefer if you were someone else hurts you in a way you didn’t know had been possible.

This ache in your chest feels strange and vivid and unbearable.

Your tears flow. David sighs and reaches up to wipe your cheeks, pulling you in for a hug.

Taking his offered comfort, you hide your face against his shoulder, allowing yourself these few moments to really feel the anxiety and sadness this whole thing has brought.

“I’m sorry.” David tells you, his voice steady but sad. “I wish I could give you a better life. I know that this is not what you parents would have wanted.”

You pull back, shaking your head as you gather yourself. “No, David. You’ve been the most supportive person in my life. This is how it’s supposed to be. Otherwise, why would I have the ancestors I have, right?”

David sighs, reaching up to wipe at your cheek.

“Besides, it’s not like I’ll be truly suffering. Not like other people do. I’ll have a good roof over my head, food, money won’t be a worry. How many other people my age can say that?”

David’s gaze becomes skeptical and he purses his thin lips a little. “Is that really how you feel?”

“Fuck no. This whole thing is complete shit.” You argue, then laugh as David chuckles too.

“There’s that fighting spirit. Keep that fire, Princess, and you’ll find a way through this.” He says, and the way the word Princess rolls of his lips makes you feel the way you’d always thought you’d feel had your dad lived to be a part of your life.

“You say that like it’s easy.” You sigh.

Before he can answer, there’s a knock on the door and it opens.

Both you and David shoot up to your feet as Loki walks in.

He’s smiling politely until he sees your face.

“I’m sorry. Am I intruding?” Loki wonders, as you quickly wipe away the tears left on your cheeks.

“No.” You shake your head quickly, voice thicker than when you arrived because of your break down. “No. Of course not. Come in.”

He doesn’t look convinced and his brow is furrowed as he looks you both over then stands with his hands behind his back. He looks neat and exotic wearing a pair of dark pants, a black top with embellishments in stunning emerald, a thin golden chain connecting each side of his high collar to the other.

“I’ve come to make sure that you find the clothing we’ve left for you.” Loki gestures at the armoire.

“I’m-I can’t wear what I brought?” You ask, pressing your hand to your chest, unintentionally sniffing.

“Tonight, you will meet with my brother’s court. It is a formal event that you must attend wearing slightly more traditional Asgardian garb.” Loki replaces his hands behind his back. “Brunnhilde has chosen something she thought would be your color. You have an hour then we’ll send your maid in to fetch you.”

You nod.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Loki asks again.

“You’re surprisingly worried.” You tell him, David moving to open the armoire and get a look at what you’re going to have to wear.

Loki’s face quickly shifts into a smile, his eyes averted as he nods.

“I hear you were the only person other than Thor who chose me.” You sit back down slowly, your hands softly skating over the cool silky sheets. “Why?”

“You were a breath of fresh air.” He admits. “Compared to the other candidates, you seemed the only one with her feet on the ground.”

Looking away from him you pinch the plum sheets.

“Is that why Thor chose me too?” You ask, knowing it isn’t the reason he chose you.

“Whatever the reason,” Loki begins, and his voice is stern enough to draw your gaze. “I’m certain my brother has nothing but honorable intentions. He’s always been the good one.”

“I think that’s true.” You nod, “He has always been the good one, if the stories are to be believed.”

“I make no excuses for who I was.” Loki assures you.

“But I think you and I both know that Thor’s intentions when it comes to me are anything but honorable.” You smile sadly. “I really hate lying. Let’s not lie to each other. We’re family, right? Or will be.”

Loki’s look remains somber, his eyes far away for a moment.

“You’re the right woman for the job. That is the truth.” Loki admits.

“I guess we’ll see.”

Loki nods. “One hour, your highness.”

His words give you a shock, and your left gaping at him as he leaves and shuts the door behind him.

“Well, that sounded strange.” David admits, “But not as strange as this dress. Well, perhaps strange is not the right word.”

You’re still reeling from the your highness as you get and walk to David that it takes your eyes a moment to process the sight before you.

“I am not wearing that.”

~~~~~~~~~~

“I can’t breathe in this thing!” You whine, hooking your fingers into the ultra-high neckline of your dress.

It’s more like a cage, this piece that goes around your throat and shoulders. It connects to a slightly see-through bodice with soft split threads lining the length of the dress, underneath the top, silver layer is a soft pink one that stands pretty against your skin. It gives the dress depth and offers a pleasant backdrop for the waterfall skirt as it fans out around your feet.

The lattice neckpiece connects to the dress’s neckline with four stiff wire connectors wrapped in the same silver fabric as the rest of the dress.

Your hair, your maid expertly gathered atop your head, shaping it to look as much like you as it can but also keeping it contained with several silver Celtic knot-looking clips. She’d added very little color to your face, telling you that Thor had requested you look as much like yourself as possible so that his court could see the real you.

Even so, you’re overwhelmed by what you see in the mirror as you pass a particularly large one as you and David make your way to the dining hall.

“Don’t fret.” David tells you, reaching over to stop your wringing hands. “Just be yourself. That’s why he chose you.”

“So, what you’re saying is to not be myself.” You nod. “Got it.”

David pulls you to a stop, turning you to face him. Your maid, Estrid, keeps walking a bit then stops leaving you both some space.

“I want you to remember something, Y/N.” David says, low and quiet so that only you can hear him. Well, he doesn’t know that Asgardians have better than human hearing, but whatever. “These people, they need you. They need you. More than you will ever need them.

“Without you, they might have to leave Earth because Thor will never turn against the human race. I don’t know why. We’re not that great.” David shrugs, and your mouth pops open as you breathe a pained gasp.

In this moment, with David’s helpful words, you’re provided with astounding clarity.

“She’s human.” You realize, eyes watering.

It happens so quickly, your breath catches, brain in a frenzy, hands shaking, sweating, your tears flow freely.

You’ve never cried so much in your life and you understand now that this will be your new state of being because what else can you do when you’ve knowingly given your life to a man who loves another human woman which only means that she will also only live for a short time and that means that Thor doesn’t have a lot of time with her so, of course he’ll want to be with her until the day she dies, because she’s the one he really wants to be with, and you’re just the tool to use so that he can stay here with her.

What kind of life have you fated yourself to?

“Your Highness?” Estrid asks, concern painting her voice as you shake your head, too panicked to speak.

David moves you towards the wall, pressing you against it to lean as Estrid moves closer to peek at you.

“Might I be of assistance?” She offers and David turns a smile on her.

“A glass of water, perhaps?”

Estrid hurries away giving you and David the hallway.

“Y/N?” He says, voice hard. “Breathe.”

You look at him, focus on the streak of white in his hair as it falls forward to hang across his brow.

It helps and you shut your mouth and breathe in deep through your nose.

He reaches into the pocket of his suit jacket and pulls from it a white handkerchief. With gentle fingers, he coaxes your face up so that he can carefully wipe the tear stains from your cheeks. He takes a bit of the blush they’d put on you, but you don’t care, and he doesn’t either.

“What is it that troubles you? Tell me.” He urges you.

“Um…” You begin, chin quivering and making your voice shake a little. “…I-I-I don’t know how I’m going to be married to him when I kn-know that he really wants to be with s-someone else. I don’t know how…how…how…”

David sighs, shaking his head as he caresses yours. “Then you look elsewhere too. If he sees fit to be with someone else while you’re married, then you deserve to experience love too. Take a lover. Be discreet. No one will know and you will both get what you want.”

“Isn’t that wrong?” You half cry. “I mean, aren’t wives and husbands s-supposed to be faithful?”

David smiles, pulling your head down to kiss your forehead. “Then give him a chance to change his mind. If he doesn’t love you by the end of the year, then he’s a bigger fool than I already think he is. A downright dumbass.”

“I don’t like the idea of someone being with me when they don’t want to be.” You admit.

And David doesn’t need you to explain that this stems from living in the school, waiting for adoption only to never be chosen.

You’ve finally been picked, and this is what it’s for?

“Do you want me to come to dinner? I can insist on it.” He promises. “I’ll even make a scene.”

You shut your eyes and sob once, David pulls you against his chest and once more you hide your face against his shoulder.

Both of you hear her steps before you see her and yet, when you turn to accept your water, you’re frozen as you find yourself face to face with Thor.

He’s dressed beautifully, in black leather trousers, stitched with thick visible charcoal colored strips of more leather. His torso is covered in what you’d consider light armor. More leather pieces in deep gold tones except for the arms which are covered in metallic scales that shine under the hallway lights. His shoulders are draped in a floor length cape, black, thinner than the one you’ve seen him wear before.

A more casual cape, you suppose.

Both you and David are absolutely still, confused by Thor’s sudden appearance.

“I uh…” Thor looks uncomfortable, shifting his weight from foot to foot as he gestures behind him with his right hand, in his left a glass of water. “Estrid looked upset. She said you weren’t feeling well?”

There’s genuine concern in his voice and it surprises you enough to wipe away most of your worries for now.

“I’m fine.” You assure him.

David clears his throat. “I should go. I have my own dinner to eat.”

“No, please. Join us.” Thor rushes to invite him, gesturing back towards the dining hall again.

“No, no. Really.” David uses his hand to refuse, then reaches down to give your hand a squeeze. “Can I trust you to escort Y/N to dinner?”

Your heart swells for David, once again, the father you never had.

“Of course.” Thor nods, smiling at David before moving to you, seeing this as permission to move closer maybe? “I take full responsibility.”

There’s a twinge of bitterness in your chest, a rolling in your stomach as you see David narrow his eyes at Thor.

“I’m going to hold you to that, God of Thunder.” He threatens, and Thor seems to realize it’s a threat because he looks startled. However, he smiles and plays it off quickly, nodding. “Have a good dinner, princess.”

David gives your hand one more squeeze before leaving you and Thor to whatever awkward conversation you’re about to have.

Thor waits until you’re both alone in the hallway before he holds out the glass of water he’d brought for you.

“Have you been crying?” He wonders, voice soft and gentle. Deep too, it settles in your chest and makes you feel stupid for liking it.

“Just a little.” You admit.

“Why?”

“I’m nervous.” And that isn’t a lie. “And apprehensive.”

Also, not a lie.

“And I don’t trust you.” You confess, feeling no qualms about the shock that flits across his rugged face.

“What did I do?” He cries.

“You told me you’re in love with someone else who won’t marry you.” You sigh, taking a long drink of your water. “I’m not exactly excited to be marrying someone who already wants to be with someone else.”

Understanding shifts his expression and he nods, reaching up to scratch at the side of his chin.

“I’ll be honest,” He begins, offering you his arm as you lower your glass. “It was never something I expected either. After watching my parents love each other for many years, their marriage was something I hoped I could experience.”

“Then why didn’t you fight harder for this woman you love? Convince your court! She’s human, right? I’m sure the Earth Ambassadors would be happy to have you marry any human.” You reason, still hoping to get out of this even if the only thing you hate about this now is the fact that he’s in love with someone else.

That fantasy marriage you’d painted for yourself has taken over your inexperienced brain and planted a seed within your heart and you feel like a fool for it.

“They were fine with it. Jane is not ready for marriage and I cannot force her to marry me if she doesn’t want to.” Thor laments, truly sounding sad about her refusal.

“Doesn’t she care that you’re marrying someone else?” You wonder, watching his expression as he begins to lead you towards the dining hall.

“In a way.” Thor nods. “She and I want to be together, but Jane is devoted to her work. She could not make the time for the obligations marrying me would entail.”

“Sounds selfish.” You observe, hating Jane a bit because she has what you didn’t know you wanted. Maybe not exactly Thor himself yet, but the love he has for her.

Thor says nothing for a moment, thinking probably. He stops walking and you stop beside him.

“I would not want her to give up her passions. In marrying me, Jane would lose her identity. Which is too important to her to give up. I could never ask her to do it.”

“Because you love her.” You agree.

“Yes.”

“Which is why you find it so easy to do it to me.” You explain, realizing it as you speak it. “Because you don’t care about me. Therefore, my identity has little value. To you.”

Thor’s speechless, staring at you as your own heart pounds. You don’t know where you conjured the audacity to say the words out loud as they came to you, but they’re true. Truer than even you know.

“I do care.” Thor argues softly, looking at your hand wrapped around his bicep.

“You don’t, Thor.” You shake your head, politely disagreeing.

“Yes, I do!” He argues, this time a little more heated.

“What do I do for a living?” You challenge and he stutters, thinking hard.

He furrows his brow, crinkly creases at the corners of his eyes as he ponders.

You observe it’s loveliness. Truly a creature of perfection even with the gold and black metal patch over his eye. If he cared about you, you might actually fall for him. If he gave two shits, you might be a goner.

“Your family left you an inheritance!” He points out, as if this is what you do.

“You don’t remember?” You ask, knowing the answer. “I told you when we met, though I only mentioned it in passing.”

“How am I expected to remember then? If you were not specific?” He retorts.

“If I’d been Jane, you would have remembered.” You tell him.

“No.” He disagrees. “I’m always this inattentive.”

You laugh once, shocked by his candor. “You’re such a liar.”

“I’m not! Ask anyone once we’re seated. They’ll all tell you that I never pay attention or listen. To anyone!” He insists, and you laugh again because he’s being sincere.

His gaze is slight shock as he looks at you, then it softens, and he chuckles with you.

“Why are you laughing?” You ask him.

“I don’t know.” He chuckles again. “I’m glad you’re feeling better, I suppose.”

This sobers you and your laugh dies off.

“Can I ask a favor?” You look at him, trying to read him like you’ve never tried to do so to anyone before.

“Of course.” He nods.

“I know you don’t love me. And I know that the likelihood of you loving me at any point in our marriage is nonexistent, but I really want to try and make this marriage work. I want it to be as real as possible.

“Which means I want you to be honest with me about everything. I don’t want any secrets. I don’t want to think you’re talking to or meeting Jane because you’re acting suspicious. If you have to see her,” And he seems to understand that you mean, if he feels like he needs to for his own sake, because he loves her. “I want to know that’s what you’re doing. Please, don’t make a fool of me, Thor.”

Thor considers you for a moment, absorbing your words as you wait for his response.

Instead of giving you what you want, he gives you a long head-to-toe. “I was right to choose this gown.”

He chose it?

“You look exquisite. Just as a princess should.” He admires. “Come, let’s go introduce you to my friends.”

As he pulls you towards the dining hall, your heart begins to pound again as nervous energy courses through your veins setting your limbs to white noise again. Tingly.

“They’re all very eager to meet the woman who will be Queen of Asgard.”

“I think I’m gonna throw up.” You worry.

Thor chuckles.

“I’m right there with you.”

#king!thor x reader #thor x reader #arranged marriage au #royal au #marvel fanfiction #king!thor x reader fanfic #king!thor x reader fanfiction #king!thor x reader fic #thor x reader fanfiction #thor x reader fanfic #thor x reader fic #thor x you #king!thor x you #marvel au #a wife for thor #a wife for thor pt02 #thor odinson x reader

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aminiatureworld · 3 years

Text

Elevated

Characters: Xiao, gn!reader

Word Count: 1,153

Warning: None

Premise: In which the reader’s noble status causes Xiao grief

Author’s Note: I think I made Xiao a little dense, but I actually really like this prompt. I hope I did it justice!

Xiao

Xiao had no idea who you were, the day of your fateful meeting at the Wangshu Inn.

You were a simple traveler, albeit an obviously notable one. Normal travelers usually didn’t pay to have their luggage carried up to their room. Nor did they walk with a sword at their hips that was clearly ceremonial, not practical. Though a Vision also shone on your shoulder, your weapon was hidden beneath vast swaths of heavily embroidered fabric.

The adeptus thought he might very well hate you, for he found that the more intricate a human’s clothes the more likely they were to be completely self-centered. Still he found himself watching you, as he watched most of the rare pompous travelers that came and went before his eyes. They always carried themselves with more energy than the regular intrepid traveler, though Xiao could never exactly pin down what it was that separated them from the other mortals around them. To the adeptus Mora was as distant a concept as a nebula might be to a human. He might be aware of its existence, but not of its significance in the contradicting network that was Liyue society.

Though Xiao certainly could say that you were similar in that manner, he had to at least give it to you that you didn’t seem to be yelling at anyone. Instead you seemed content with looking out at the Inn’s surroundings, easing a small smile onto Verr Goldet’s face with your string of compliments. You assured her that everything was perfect, and that there was no reason to make a fuss, before sitting yourself out on the balcony, your attire enough to drag ordinary people, it seemed, away.

Xiao watched you that evening with fascination, something only amplified by the way that everyone treated you. It seemed that you were more revered than the merchants that sometimes stayed, the people whose pockets were lined with the gifts of Rex Lapis. It made Xiao’s head spin a bit, and he found himself careless in his confusion. He ran into you once in the kitchen, as you had come to ask something of Smiley Yanxiao. Though your conversation was very short and consisted mostly of singular words on his part Xiao had somehow become enraptured. The minute you turned to go upstairs he went to find Verr Goldet, wanting some questions answered.

If Mora was a foreign concept to Xiao then nobility might as well have been as far away as the moon. Though Goldet did her best in trying to explain the long and sordid history of Liyue aristocracy, most of it was lost in a haze of confusion. By the end of the day however Xiao had come to one conclusion, that you were comparable to a lower deity.

Looking back on it you were always careful not to tease Xiao, knowing that he disconnected himself from human society on purpose. Still, the fact that he genuinely thought you were comparable in any way to the gods that you yourself worshipped was so baffling as to be hilarious. Not that you weren’t somewhat aware of this in the way that he suddenly acted towards you. The already reticent stranger was now positively mute, and whenever he was around you he stared at the ground or somewhere just behind you. It was almost unnerving at first, for you felt as if you’d committed some accidental slight.

Despite this rocky start however your relationship grew, as you coaxed feelings, then words, then confessions out of Xiao. You loved him so very deeply, and though he rarely admitted it, once Xiao gave you his first “I love you” you never once doubted him. Of course you were aware of his status as an adeptus, aware that even your wealth and aristocratic station couldn’t begin to compare to that of his. So despite it all, you found yourself somewhat in awe.

“You know, it’s funny, I sometimes wonder what my family, what those around me would think of the fact that I fell in love with you. Maybe they’d think I’m insane, really pushing my station.”

You leaned against Xiao’s shoulder, the soft up and down of his breathing comforting. You hadn’t meant to admit it, but the words somehow just came out. There was no taking them back though, for they were indeed true.

“What do you mean?” Xiao’s voice was rough in the way that signaled he couldn’t believe you.

“Well, I mean, you’re an adeptus,” you ventured, unsure of where the disconnect was. “I think even my parents would think that I was being brazen. I mean, I’m just a human, how could I be good enough.”

“But, aren’t you a god to humans?”

You felt laughter bubbling up inside you, utter disbelief. “No, no I’m not,” you managed to make out.

“But Goldet said you were.”

“Then she must’ve been drunk,” you let out a huff of laughter. “No, I’m just a member of minor nobility.”

“Aren’t the nobility like gods on earth?”

“Maybe thousands of years ago but not anymore. Nobility has gone out of style, as one might put it. My ancestors might’ve been worshipped, but not anymore. Liyue has no need for an aristocracy, maybe it never did. Trade has always been more important. So no Xiao, I’m not a god, I’m just lucky.”

“I see.”

You could tell that Xiao was embarrassed, that he still didn’t quite understand, but you let it pass. There was no point in pushing the topic. Right now you just wanted to enjoy this moment, this moment cut off both from your love’s status as an immortal and your status as minor nobility.

After that things changed slightly, in ways that someone outside your newfound relationship probably wouldn’t notice. Xiao stopped staring at the ground when he talked to you, began to walk a few steps closer to you. These changes made you absolutely delighted, and you reveled in the new sense of intimacy.

Sometimes Xiao would retreat back into those old mannerisms. Usually if you were visited by someone at the Inn – which had become your permanent residence – or if you went off to see someone else of importance. You could sense the questions in your partner’s head. Am I good enough? How could they want when they already have it all? They were the exact same questions that you asked of yourself sometimes, marveling that someone like Xiao should fall in love with you. Now those insecurities became a string to guide your way, as you gently coaxed as much surety as you could out of the adeptus.

Perhaps you came from a good family name, perhaps Mora was never a matter of strain for you. Perhaps you did have all that a human might want. However all of it paled in comparison to the one you loved.

And you hoped that Xiao would see that too.

#genshin impact fanfiction #xiao x reader #genshin xiao #genshin impact #requested #oneshot #my writing

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