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#this came to me in a fit of inspiration
scarletwoods · a month ago
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[image ID: a manga style picture of two boys kissing. the top text says boys, the bottom text says boy bestfriends. END ID]
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how-queerious · a year ago
Okay underrated comeback: Its a pandemic and we're supposed to maintain a distance of 6 feet so could you please hop off my dick.
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toyourliking · 4 months ago
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my better drawings tend to be the ones with messier sketches... right?
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truckult · a year ago
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tell me these DON’T go off.(you’d be wrong if you tried✨)
Truckella is a serve 10/10 times. 🧡✨
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golisopod-mutual · 6 months ago
#dont read these ok im just upset lol#vent hours lol#i HATE that im still not convinced i had an e.d. im stuck between feeling like i do and feeling like i dont and i hate it bc it ends up w m#just feeling like i might have one? but i also might be invalid and faking it#and so i end up just feeling shitty and invalid. and like i dont deserve help and/or couldnt get help if i wanted to#i had an ok day today. i ate approx. 1500 calories. which is a lot for me and its causing some anxiety im trying to ignore#but now im like 'oh i ate a lot today so surely i dont have a disorder right?'#like i KNOW i fit the diagnostic criteria for atypical anorexia. i know i do. but i feel like i dont#i feel like i should be afraid of carbs and eating 200 calories a day and obsessively exercising. and im not like that#and bc thats what my brain says an ed looks like it says i dont have one bc im not doing those things#and then theres the whole 'oh you cant have a restrictive e.d youre overweight' thing that i cant shake#every time i start to really believe i have an ed the invalidating thoughts pop back up and i go back to feeling like im a fraud#i wish i was sicker so i could just know for sure and so ppl would take me and my problem seriously#and i know wanting to be sicker is not something a normal healthy person does! i know that!!#i know ppl without an ed dont do half the shit i do. and yet i still cant convince myself i have one#and i hate that if i came out and said to the ppl in my life 'oh lol i think i have an e.d' ppl would assu#assume i was lying#bc im not thin or sick enough!!!#and everyone just wants to tell me how great i look now and how awesome my weight loss has been and how ive inspired them to diet too#and i really cant stand it!!! thinking bout that tweet thats like 'ppl wont tell you you're fat but they'll tell you if you USED to be fat'#everyone tells me how great im doing bc nobody cares if im starving myself and purging after i eat.#all they care abt is that the fat girl is losing weight#and idk how to cope w that!! how do i handle ppl unknowingly encouraging me to starve myself bc they cant shut up abt how cool#my weight loss is and how much better i look now?#and i hate the discrepancy between my brain n my feelings bc i know logically i fit diagnostic criteria for an ed but i dont FEEL like i do#and the feelings usually win out over the logic and then i feel like a big fraud whos faking it
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bakatenshii · 10 months ago
Your fic Rapture was seriously the best thing I've ever read. I am ALL FOR brother Oikawa. I know you're only open for drabbles and thirsts, but would you ever consider writing a second part to the story?
AHHH mownin hehe first off thank you so much for reading it! Thank you for praising it so highly and sending me this eeee truth to be told, I do actually have a pt2 plotted (and maybe even a pt3 if I can figure out the content, maybe) but because I treasure Rapture so much, I’m in that limbo stage where I’m afraid to start on pt2 until my writing is at the quality I want it to be, if that makes sense?
For the longest time I refused to even consider a pt2 just because I’m like— what’s there to even write? I loved where it concluded, so there’s no need to drag it out for no reason, but I received an ask (not for rapture just a thirst) and I suddenly had an epiphany, I even have the last line ready hahahaha BUT once again at the rate I’m writing rn I don’t think I could do it any justice, so I’ve been too scared to start it. but it’s a hesitant y-yes I would for sure!
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jaskerart · 3 years ago
Hi! I just wanted to say that I absolutely adore your artwork; the colours, the expressions, just amazing! it makes me so much more confident about drawing and writing my own large and powerful women in a manner that isn't apologetic for wanting to depict them! Thank-you! Just curious though; does your Jasper ever worry about her pudge? I hope not because she's beautiful!
AAAHH!!! thank you so so much omg!!!! ;;; that makes me super happy!! ♡♡♡
AND NO WAY haha she knows shes got that Perfect Quartz Bod B^)
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lol i think she’s probably less worried about pudge/her particular shape since she knows that part is perfect but be more self conscious about other things? pudge is quite necessary for that good healthy padding and strength u feel me
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lukcskywalkcrs · 2 years ago
She says, say something or you’ll regret it. It sounds like moonlight in Budapest, like an arrowhead notched in her belt, red hair underneath black dye, and the first drink of kindness after a life in the desert. She says, what’s the worst that could happen, and it sounds like cigarette smoke curled around a Brooklyn alley. What’s the worst that could happen, pal? A lot of things. Like what? But my hands can’t begin to list them because my fingers tremble every time I do. That’s why I let go—I couldn’t reach, I held on to the wrong thing. She says, not everyone gets a second chance. It sounds like weighing your heart against the world, like red polish dripping from your nails, stains the handle of the clippers on accident. It was all for fun. She says, don’t let go this time. You see, I didn’t notice, I didn’t know it yet. My head was stuck in the clouds and my heart in the trenches. I warned you, pal. See, that’s what makes it worse. I was fighting a war, but you were already counting the bruises underneath my skin. You were tracing the scars in my palm and told me we would meet again in the future. You knew and then you left. She says, you can open your eyes now. It sounds like she means something else. Truth is a matter of circumstance. I always saw him, even when I didn’t. Traced the crinkle of his eyes, smudged the charcoal on my thumb against his lips. I noticed, just the wrong way. My head didn’t know my heart was fighting a different kind of war. She says, now you know. His smile, his laugh, the crinkle of his eyes, and how it stabs my heart. But not his lips, his pulse, the way his eyes will roll back, how he tastes. I’m the handsomest guy on the block, pal. I know. She says, you’ll figure it out. It sounds like sooner or later. I live in between borrowed moments that ran out once I woke up. Time held me still as death so I could keep up with you, but not keep you. It slept with me in a dream and drowned me in a new kind of horror. She says, just breathe. In and out. It’s all a memory now. A habit, a pretension. Confidence is a mask I wear when the world tells me I need it. You knew it too, back when I didn’t realize a smile could hide the kind of death that makes you keep living. It’s alright, pal, it’s alright. I’m alright too. It was always easier when you were there. She says, you deserve to live. It sounds like she’s just scraping the bottom of the barrel for pretty funeral words. Life dragged me back kicking and screaming from where I had him, brought me back to a place where I have all and none of him, all at the same time. She says, you can stop now. It sounds like a farm upstate, pitter-patter of feet, and soft rain against the harvest. I let go of the past, but the past won’t let go of me. She says, say something or you’ll regret it. Like the words haven’t flooded from sounds of pencil scratching and paint dripping from the easel. Like I haven’t breathed the frost into your lungs a million times. She says, say something or you’ll regret it. But how can I when the words choke me faster than the rushing water. You were a familiarity I took for granted. Constant and commonplace. The low-light hearth that never lit me up, but kept me warm. I spent so many years in the snow, I forget what it’s like to be afraid of the cold. She says, what do you want? I don’t know. Says, what makes you happy? But I’m not sure anymore. C’mon, pal, you gotta want somethin’. I wanted you and I didn’t know it. Say something, before it’s too late and you regret it. But she doesn’t understand, it sounds like a prophecy fulfilled. She says, what is it then? And I say, I don’t go looking for trouble, but it always seems to find me. Why d’you always have to go looking for trouble, pal? I wanted to make the world a better place. Who’s gonna make you   better, pal?
insp. insp. insp.
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victorluvsalice · 2 years ago
Forgotten Vows Friday: You Have Just Obtained. . .
We all like those neat little posters that pop up when Alice obtains her four core weapons in Alice: Madness Returns, right? I know I do. So, when the opportunity came up to do a pastiche of one in Chapter 14 of "Fixing You," when Victor picked up the Grim Scythe, I happily grabbed it. I thought it added a fun shout-out to the game, and what better way to introduce his Hobby Horse equivalent?
But, of course, I didn’t really want to leave it at just the one. . .and since we're all currently waiting for me to finish up the final chapter of "Fixing You," I figured, why not complete the set? I may not have the patience or skill to sit down and draw anything out, but I can at least provide you with the text. In order of first obtained to last in the story:
-->Vorpal Fork: You have just obtained The Vorpal Fork! Three tines for perfect stabbing! Leaves false lords squealing! (as seen in a previous engagement)
-->Wedding Wine: You have just obtained The Wedding Wine! (Elder Gutknecht edition) Poison your enemies! Or - conduct the ideal ceremony!
-->Quill Bow: You have just obtained The Quill Bow! Folded from the finest white paper! Strongest twine for the string! Fires the sharpest, curliest drawing quills! Draw out the eyesores in your life!
-->Grim Scythe: You have just obtained The Grim Scythe! Slice through garden pests! Reap the rewards of your harvest! The most preferred in the Underworld!
And, as a bonus, since this is my favorite of his non-core-four weapons:
-->Awful Orphica: You have just obtained The Awful Orphica! Rock foes straight off their feet! Perfectly in tune with all your offensive needs! The best for musical mayhem! Constructed 1810.
Not too shabby, right? Though I still kind of want to refine the Quill Bow one. . .
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redvelvetreel · 3 years ago
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[ Red Velvet Reel AU - Character Profile ]
Name: Sans “Red” the Skeleton Age: 30-ish Species: Skeleton Monster Pronouns: He/Him Relationship: Single (?) Occupation: “Economic Officer” at the Monster Embassy Family: “Boss” Edge (Younger Brother), “Honey” Stretch (Brother-in-Law), “Baby Blue” Blue (Brother-in-Law), “Brat” ‘Pancake’ (Nibling/Sobrino) Background:  Originally from Underfell, Red moved into Underswap permanently with Edge at the same time. Initially, Red stayed in Stretch and Edge’s apartment as both Fell brothers adjusted to Underswap, but moved out an indeterminate time ago. He currently lives with Blue in a rowhouse complex with a lot of other monsters.  Design Notes:  *Wears a variety of large rings, some with fake jewels, that double as brass knuckles. *Jacket is a safety blanket of sorts- regardless of the weather, he always wears it. Unsure if its ever been washed. *Wears a guayabera under his jacket, and there’s always something in every single pocket. Prefers more unusual, dark colors, but will also wear white or pastels. *Velcro sneakers have a very strong  steel-toe. 
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dresshistorynerd · 2 months ago
An Introductory Timeline of Western Women's Fashion
I think a good place to start to get into dress history is general overview of the whole timeline. Understanding especially how the silhouettes change is really important ground knowledge to build the rest of the information on.
I'll start the timeline from Middle Ages and go till the first world war. I'll focus on upper class England/French sector, so keep in mind that before 17th century there were huge regional differences in fashion inside Europe and class differences too. There is a lot variance, changes and nuance inside any century and decade I'm about to discuss, but I'll try to keep this short and introductory and very simplified. I used a very scientific method of basically what makes most sense to me to divide the periods. I've made sketches what I would consider to be the basic silhouette of the period stripped mostly out of the detail and then I give couple of primary source examples.
12th century (Middle Ages)
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Dress was simple one or more tunics over a chemise. They were overly long for upper classes, made out of straight lines. There were loose tunics often worn over another tunic, and tunics with laced bodice called biaut. In France bliaut sleeves often widened from the elbow, in England they often widened in frists.
13th century (Middle Ages)
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Clothing was mostly very similar as in the previous century, though bliaut was mostly gone and new popular style was a loose sleeves surcoat.
14th century (Middle Ages)
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Tailoring basically revolutionized clothing production, since clothes weren't made out of rectangles anymore and could be better made to fit form. Also functional buttons and lacing was popularized resulting in very fitted styles. The underlayer tunic, kirtle, became a fitted supporting layer.
15th century (Middle Ages)
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Improvements in weaving technology and trade and growing prosperity in Europe showed in clothing as excess of fabric and variety of trends. Houppelande, a loose A-lined overdress lined with fur and fastened with a wide belt under chest, became a very popular clothing item, and in later decades developed into the iconic Burgundian dress (the red dress). Fitted overdress continued to be popular alongside the warmer houppelandes.
1500s-1550s (Tudor period)
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In the renaissance era clothing became increasingly structured and elaborate. The bodice was heavily boned and the skirt was also structured.
1560s-1610s (Elizabethan Era)
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Both structuring and elaborate decoration reach it's peak during Queen Elizabeth's reign. She became the defining fashion icon of the late renaissance.
1620s-1670s (Baroque)
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In baroque era the bodice was still heavily structured, but more curved than the conical Elizabethan bodice. Otherwise though structuring was replaces with dramatic excess of fabric.
1680s-1710s (Baroque)
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In the late 17th century there was a huge shift in the clothing industry as mantua, a loose open robe inspired by Japanese kimono, came to dominate fashion. Rigid bodice was replaces by structured under layer, stays. Stays brought back the conical silhouette of Elizabethan era.
1720s-1780s (Rococo)
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Mantua developed into the iconic Rococo dress in France, robe à la francaise (first example picture), and in England robe à la anglaise with closed bodice. Rococo fashion was characterized by the wide silhouette of the skirt.
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Since Tumblr won't accept more than 10 pictures per a post I'll have to continue in a reblog. So to be continued!
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tadpole-san · 24 days ago
part two ; centuries we don’t have
pairing(s): druig x asgardian!reader
warnings: maybe some mild spoilers for the eternals (i really don’t think i actually have any spoilers, but i just want to be safe), a timeline that’s all over the place because i’m mixing the comics and mcu dates
a/n: so… ya girl watched the eternals last night… and yes, druig and makkari did basically grab me by the throat. They’ve probably become the sole reason im reviving my actual writing on this tumblr, so any of yall who want makkari and/or druig fics, feel free to send them in <3
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685 A.D.
The first time you meet Druig, you would hardly call yourself beautiful.
That isn’t to say you don’t deem yourself attractive, of course - it’s just that there’s a dismembered Deviant lying at your feet, and you suspect that maybe some of the blood and gore extended beyond the lower half of your armor. So one can imagine your surprise when the train of your thoughts in the aftermath of the battle are interjected by a low, “Hello, beautiful one.”
You turn around.
If you were a poet, perhaps this would be the moment to inspire your works for the centuries to come. The moment you lock eyes with the man in red and black standing across the field, the way his lips tilt upwards when he knows you’ve seen him, the startled laugh that escapes you when the words beautiful one register.
But you are not a poet. You are simply an Asgardian - and he is Druig, the Eternal.
You hadn’t seen him during the battle, but from you know of the Eternals (admittedly, not too much), you understand that it doesn’t diminish his strengths towards the group. Five fighters, five thinkers is a mantra often heard amongst them.
“You are Druig,” you say, stepping over what you think used to be a Deviant arm.
“You know me.” By now, his smile has settled into more of a… smirk. Mischievous. Teasing. Amused? Either way, it holds until you are within a breadth of him and your weapon is sheathed at your side. “But I don’t know you,” he continues, and then there it is again. “Beautiful one. You came with the Asgardian king?”
By now, you understand that your king is already making himself known to the matriarch of the Eternals herself. In a way, the woman reminded you of your queen, raised and borne of witches, warm as the sun but cunning as a snake.
“I did,” you confirm. When you tell him your name, you find yourself revelling in the way it feels in the air between the two of you as he says it - the way the syllables roll off his tongue.
Beautiful, beautiful one.
800 A.D.
The second time you encounter Druig, he presents you with one of Idunn’s golden apples. To this day, you still have no idea how he acquired such a thing, although you suspect it may have something to do with the friendship he’d been able to maintain with Loki over the centuries.
“Hello, beautiful one.” This time, you don’t startle at the sound of his voice - although it is much closer than the first time, spoken at a low murmur right by your ear that you can still hear clear as day, even with all the revelries taking place in the tavern you’re both in. You turn your head just slightly and there he is.
“Hello, Druig.” This time, you’re out of your armor, and he dons local-wear in shades of black and grey fitting him in a way that does make your mouth run dry for a moment. You still indulge him in the best smile that you can, even as you take a sip from the mug of ale beside you. “How kind it is for an Eternal to grace a mere warrior with his presence.” It’s all in good jest. It always is.
He tuts anyway, reaching into his robes for… something, even as his eyes never leave your face. “I think we’ll have none of that now. Besides, I hear you’re moving up in the world, babysitting that prince of yours.” When you dig an elbow into his side for that comment, he only laughs again. “Guarding,” he corrects.
“That’s more like it,” you affirm, stopping to raise your mug as Thor makes another rambunctious announcement for cheers. Teenagers. By the time you’re back to focusing on Druig, the hand that had been withdrawn into his robes is back out, presenting you with a perfectly round, perfectly golden, apple. The startled laugh that you let out isn’t unlike the one you’d given him during your first meeting, and you accept the offer with a slightly reserved glee. “And how did you acquire this?” you ask him, admiring the apple in your eye and pressing your lips to it before taking a bite.
“Does it make me the apple of your eye?” The one-liner is enough to get you to choke on the apple for a moment, and Druig graciously allows you the dignity of a recovery before he continues. “It is said that those apples are the source of the Asgardians’ immortal youth and beauty. Is that true?”
You quirk an eyebrow at him as you take another bite, humming contemplatively. “Is this your way of saying you’d like me to be more beautiful?”
“Oh, beautiful one, never.” He even puts a hand over where his heart would be. “I don’t think I could handle that.”
“Mmm. That wasn’t a bad save on your end, Druig.” You catch the way his gaze flickers from the apple, then to your lips. You hold the apple out to him. “Would you like to try a bite, then?”
When he doesn’t say anything, you shake it lightly in front of his face. “This isn’t an offer made lightly.” it’s enough to break him out of his trance, because he smirks again and settles into his seat more comfortably, giving you a slight nod but grasping your wrist when you try to hold the apple out to him.
That’s not how I want to taste it.
It’s the first time you hear him in your head - and really, you shouldn’t be so startled. It’s not as if you don’t know the things he can do, haven’t seen him bring human conflicts to a standstill with a mere thought. And you can feel him in your head, too, sometimes, never prodding, never prying, just… there.
You like it, you think.
So does he.
Before he can close the distance between the two of you - before you can invite him to bridge the gap, you hear Thor call your name with a raucous laugh, mug raised to the heavens, inviting with a “Come drink with us!”
To Druig, you offer a shrug and an impish grin of your own, rising from your seat and offering him a bow as you make to leave. “Duty calls, then.” Rather than look upset, he just plucks the apple from your hands, eyes never leaving yours while he takes a generous bite.
Then one of the Warriors Three has you by the arm, the same time that you see one of the other Eternals bids Druig to rise - Kingo, you recognize, and he says something to Druig that has him scowling and shrugging his grip off as his cheeks redden slightly.
You feel his gaze on you for the rest of the night.
By now, this isn’t even the third encounter you’ve had with Druig - not even the fourth, the fifth, even the hundredth. You lose track by now, centuries blurring together. Centuries of Heimdall keeping a watchful eye out, telling you where Druig has landed himself, where to go when he opens the Bifrost for you. Centuries of meetings (hardly clandestine) as Thor distracts his father from the fact that his loyal bodyguard is almost nowhere in sight, of Loki conjuring mirages of you that get better by the decade, of Lady Sif and her Warriors Three making false alibis for you, of your queen giving you a knowing look whenever she passes you by.
You know how you must look, trekking through the Amazon rainforest and into the now-familiar encampment. You pay no heed to the stares that some of the men and women pin you with as you pass, don’t think twice about the golden glow in their eyes that flashes and passes.
When you reach the building at the opposite end of the encampment, you don;t even enter. Part of you isn’t even sure you have the energy to open the doors, so you just settle at the foot of the wooden doors and lean against one.
The door to your left opens not a minute later, and in your peripheral vision, you see Druig standing there, clad in dark pants and a sleeveless grey top. He crouches next to you, bumping his shoulder against yours affectionately, and you pretend like that will be enough to make you keel over, swaying to the side in a dramatic motion.
“Oh, stop that.” When he steadies you, there’s no real bite to it. “And not even a hello for me, beautiful one?” You sigh, as though burdened greatly.
“Hello.” He presses his forehead against yours and you smile a smile that feels more real than anything you’ve mustered over the past few days. You feel him squeeze your arm, and you don’t tense, but when his hand goes over a fresh injury over your ribs that has not healed, it earns him a loud “ow” and a slap to the shoulder. “You’re a fiend,” you start.
“You’ve been in battle,” he says, and truly, your lover is brilliant. Astounding. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”
“Only in my heart,” you jest, and it partially works because you see his lips quirk up before he settles back in a more serious expression. He waits for you to continue, and he doesn’t even need to use his abilities to know that there is more on your mind that you want to say. “We lost,” you begin to say, and his eyebrows shoot up, because he knows you and you never lose a battle. There have been so many fights to be fought, and none to lose.
“The Dark Elves,” you manage to continue, and the two words sit heavy in your throat, like they’re trying to choke you before you can finish what you want to say. “Queen Frigga was killed. So was Prince Loki.” And despite what your king says, despite the terrible things Loki did, he was still a prince of Asgard. From children to adolescence and to adulthood, you’d watched them both grow, sometimes alongside Druig, sometimes not.
Druig, who doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t offer words of empty comfort, who can feel what you feel in this moment, who looks at you now the way he looks at his humans sometimes - worried for them, wanting to interfere, wanting to keep them safe. So you press a hand to his cheek, opening your mind and heart to him, smiling as he leans into your touch.
I’ll be okay.
You will mourn. You will move forward. He, too, knows this.
You feel Druig before you see him. You know his touch in your mind - have known it for eons, could feel and recognize it across the span of time and space.
My beautiful, beautiful lover.
The words are whispered into the embrace of your mind, softly becoming you to turn and look. You do so, only after you’ve set the crate of harvested and fished goods on the trunk of Valkyrie’s truck. The sight of Druig standing at the end of the pier, the ocean wind and spray whipping strands of his hair out of his face, has you holding your arms out for him.
You laugh when he reaches you and he pulls you into an embrace, one that literally sweeps you off your feet. “Beautiful one,” he says, and you can hear the laughter in his voice as he presses a kiss to the side of your head. “Did you miss me?”
“Did you miss me?” you counter, pulling back just enough that you’re able to get a look at his face. Eight years apart should be inconsequential to the two of you, who are fated to live for millennia, but it feels like an eternity of a lifetime. “I didn’t know you could venture out of that forest of yours, beautiful Druig.”
“Only for you,” he says, always quick with a retort. Witty or otherwise. “I even had to pack a jacket.”
“Yes, you did,” you agree, finally taking note of the studded black leather that he dons. Running a hand over one of the studs has you shooting him a very amused look, and he retaliates with a tug to the knitted sleeve of your new sweater.
“I see that you’ve taken up the fisherman chic. Is that the fashion of New Asgard? I’ll be sure to dress more appropriately for the occasion next time.”
“Cheeky.” You’re only partially aware to the knowing look that Valkyrie gives the two of you before she is driving back to town, the two of you left to privacy. “Come on, you,” you add, linking your arm with his as you begin to lead him away from the water and up to one of the hills overlooking the town.
“How is Thor?” he asks you, and though it’s been many years since you were called to the duty of watching over the prince - no, now the king - of Asgard, your heart aches for the boy you watched grow into the man of loss you know today.
“Not the same,” you tell Druig, your footsteps coming to a stop as he moves himself in front of you, facing you. He keeps your hand clasped in his as he moves it over his chest, and you can feel the beat of his heart even through the jacket he wears. “He lost - we lost - nothing is the same.”
It’s hard to put into words, you think. You think of the person you were when you first met Druig, think of the naivety of that youth. You wonder what it is like for him now, to see the edges of that person chipped and worn away, eroded by the winds of love and loss.
When he brushes a strand of your hair out of your eyes, when he presses his forehead against yours, you feel some of those broken edges start to knit together again.
I’m sorry.
I should have been there.
I’m sorry I’m rooted to Earth.
“You’re here now,” your murmur, your eyes still closed. “You’re always here when I need you.” For that, he presses a kiss to your forehead before stepping back. He makes sure not to let go of your hand.
“I have something for you, you know.” His other hand is already reaching into his pocket.
“Should I be worried?” you ask, only in slight jest. “Your gifts are wonderful, really, but you do like to play things on the mischievous side-” Your words die in your throat when you see the golden apple he produces for you, glittering in the sun that’s starting to break through the clouds. “Oh. Oh, Druig.”
“You won’t demand the ways I acquired it for you?”
“You’d just evade the question - oh, Druig.” As he presses it into your palm, you have to breathe in sharply and blink back the stinging in your eyes. He shrugs a little, trying to play it nonchalant, even as you have to press your face into his shoulder so you can compose yourself without looking at him.
“People on Earth like to do this with a ring,” he says, suddenly, voice slightly louder to be heard above the wind. “A gold on. I thought-” you feel him shift his weight, and you squeeze his arm to steady him. “I thought this would be better.”
“Do you have a question you must ask of me?” Finally, you lift your head to look at him. “Beautiful Druig.”
“You’re the beautiful one,” is his automatic response, and the word, the endearment, has always been so natural. On the battleground. In a tavern. The past, and the present. This gift that he’s given you.
He is Druig, the Eternal. And he calls you beautiful, because he loves you.
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Druig Taglist
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