Posted 1 day ago
Could you write something about Loki's magic dithering for some reason and is forced into his Joutnheim form or he's in Midgard and it's snowing and he ends up in his Joutnheim form accidentally and Clint sees but he tries to hide and Clint acts as if nothing is amiss and is secretly thinking how amazing and beautiful Loki is?
Anonymous asked

Clint hadn’t expected to find a non-human on his way back from his latest mission.  Not a non-human in the mutant sense - those, he was pretty much used to by now - but in a very evident ‘no way am I from earth’ sense.  One minute, he’d been making the fifteen-mile trek back to his rendezvous point…

…and the next his eyes were fixed on a tall, blue-skinned figure inscribed with what appeared to be long lines and sharp angles.

"Who’s that?" he demanded, hand flying to his bow by sheer instinct.

No answer was offered.  Whoever they were, they dodged away quickly, concealing themselves behind a small group of dormant yews coated in thick flakes of white.  Clint could still see thick, shiny onyx hair catching the wind and betraying their hiding place, and he eased his hand away from his bow.  ”Hello?”

"Go away, Barton."

Well, that was definitely Loki’s voice.

Clint’s brow knitted with confusion and he took a few steps closer.  ”Loki?  I thought you were imprisoned in Asgard somewhere - “

"I escaped.  Are you hard of hearing, mortal fool?!  Leave!"

"Make me."  Clint walked closer with less trepidation now.  "If you escaped, then you’re not allowed to be here.  Which means you can’t make a scene, or big brother will come for you.  You’re all bark and no bite right now, aren’t you?"

Loki was silent for a while before mumbling, “You always were too clever by half.  I should have kept you for myself; you’d have made ever such a lovely companion.”

"Come on out, Loki."

"I will not," Loki spat from behind his rather desperate hiding spot.

Clint sighed and closed the last few spaces between them…and what he saw very nearly took his breath away.  Loki had shed his ostentatious golden armor - or, more likely, it was removed forcibly - and was in simple, thin clothing.  The cold didn’t seem to bother him, and Clint suspected that was because whatever Loki truly was was designed for the cold.

Loki was indeed blue now, with eyes like polished fire opals.  Gorgeous patterns, the meanings of which were lost on Clint but the beauty of which was not, ran over his skin in thin, raised lines of cobalt.  Perhaps most astonishing was the set of four small horns - more raised areas, really - he now possessed.  Two larger ones featured on either side of his forehead, and two small enough to be more like thorns at the ends of his eyebrows.  He was astonishingly different, shocking to look at…

…and beautiful.

So beautiful, Clint thought to himself even as he trained his face into its usual stoic mask.  And yet Loki seemed unnerved by himself, very much unlike the proud and roaring god Clint knew.  Except for his anger, he looked almost ready to bolt, like a frightened deer.

"Hiding wouldn’t stop me from shooting you if I wanted to shoot you," Clint huffed.  "You’ve been in my brain.  You know what my job is and you know I’m damn good at it."

Loki looked at Clint warily.  ”…you do not mock me?”

"What’s to mock?  I don’t make a habit of embarrassing people once I’ve defeated them.  Not unless they’ve really earned it.  And sure, you were an asshole, but I’m guessing from your general lack of attempts at world domination and the enslavement of the human race, something got through to you.”

Loki was still very obviously mistrustful, but he turned to face Clint fully.  ”I am unusual in appearance, I am sure.  I did not see blue humans running about during my last stay here.”

"Try Las Vegas," Clint responded.  "Look, you can’t stay here.  This is hostile territory, and the guys who own it won’t take kindly to you being here no matter what color you are."

"Are you suggesting I come with you, Barton?"

Clint shook his head emphatically.  ”No!  Hell no, my boss would shit an entire litter of kittens.”

"Ah, yes.  Director Fury.  I am guessing the passing of kittens as waste is a ridiculous euphamism meant to indicate rage."

"You guessed right."  Clint looked around and wrinkled his nose briefly.  "Look, if you want help getting out of here, follow me and stay outside the cabin I go into.  I’ll meet up with my coworker, then we’ll work on finding you someplace where you can do minimal damage."

Loki smirked.  ”And here I was thinking you’d learned something while you were under my control.  The damage I do is never minimal, Barton.”

"Don’t make me change my mind," Clint warned.  He started southward, keeping a sharp eye out behind them.  "Jeez.  What I wouldn’t do for a nice snowstorm right now.  I could use the cover."

"You humans and your bizarre relationship with the weather.  I seem to recall you complaining about the snow the last time I was in your head."

"You mean the only time you were in my head.  Though I guess you’re right in that it will be the last.”

Loki snorted derisively…

…but three minutes later, he and Clint were hidden completely from their trackers by a rather aggressive line of snow which seemed to have come out of nowhere.

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Posted 1 week ago
Tony Stark/JARVIS, sub!Tony and dom!JARVIS, whatever flavour of consent you'd care to play with. (And thanks so much!)
crowdog66 asked

Topped by technology.  People often complained about it, but usually, they were referring to assembly-line jobs being robbed from them by precision machines, or the latest and greatest smartphone stumping them and not their ten-year-old.

Tony, however, had a whole different meaning for it.

And a whole room dedicated to it.

JARVIS had once told him that this room was far more impressive than even the Iron Man suit.  Equal parts hologram, biosensory metal, and android technology, this room was devoted to a single purpose…although Tony was working on making something so that JARVIS could enjoy said purpose outside the room as well.

For now, though, this was the spot.  And speaking of which…

"Oh oh, that, that’s good - !!" Tony keened.  "Right there - !"

"Was that a compliment or an instruction?"  JARVIS withdrew his finger from inside Tony, watching as his creator squirmed.  Tony was bent over a desk - one of JARVIS’ chosen props for their current scene - with his hands tied firmly behind him.  So far, JARVIS hadn’t seen much need to punish him, but it seemed Tony was wearing thin on that.  Needy bastard.  "Because you don’t give the instructions here.  I do."

Tony licked his lips and nodded.  ”Yes, sir.”  So strange to hear that title from Tony’s lips at all, let alone have it directed at him.  ”I’m sorry, sir.”

"Are you?"  JARVIS ran a hand thoughtfully over Tony’s thighs, considering the soft smattering of hair there before sharply rapping that same hand over one side of Tony’s bottom.  Tony yelped, back curving and cock jumping, and JARVIS let out a pleased snort.  "You know I have no patience for uppity things like you, Tony."

Tony nodded, and although JARVIS wasn’t quite sure, he seemed to be wriggling ever-so-slightly, deliberately provocatively.  He hummed as if in thought before smacking Tony’s other buttock.

"Ow!" Tony yelped, though the clear fluid stringing from the tip of his arousal said the pain was still good.  Just unexpected that time, JARVIS figured.  "What did I do to deserve that?"

"Perhaps you were inviting it," JARVIS answered.  "Perhaps I just felt like it."  He stroked one hand over the red blushes he’d left behind, then said, "Perhaps I feel like carrying on.  What are you going to do about it?"  Tony’s whimper sounded vaguely like ‘oh god’, and JARVIS knew Tony liked the idea.  He’d have to tease him for a while before he resumed spanking him, in that case.  "Then again.  If you’re really sorry, perhaps no more punishment is in order.  Maybe I should just leave you for a while, to think about what you’ve done.”

Tony’s voice caught, and he stopped himself before he could protest.  There was no telling what JARVIS would come up with if Tony tried to boss him around again.

"See?  You’re learning already."  JARVIS grinned, rubbing both hands over Tony now, using his thumbs to part the cleft of his bottom so he could admire the more tender areas.  Tony was still slick and wet with lubricant, his testicles full and drawn close to his body.  "You look like you’re going to come.  You’d best not.  I have plans for you."

"Yes, sir."

"Lots of plans.  For instance, right now, I plan to finger you again."

Tony made a muffled noise of pleasure, body slackening as he relaxed to let JARVIS push one digit inside of him.  JARVIS marveled at his ability to do that, and to feel how warm and tight Tony was.  He worked his finger around, crooking it against his prostate every now and again, listening closely in case Tony needed to stop.

Tony’s noises didn’t grow hesitant - only more energetic and needy, even a bit frustrated as he leaned hard against the desk in an effort not to come.  When JARVIS shook his finger just right, though, all Tony’s efforts couldn’t have stopped him; he came with a breathless, dizzying cry and let his forehead fall to the desk.

JARVIS withdrew his finger, letting Tony catch his breath before saying, “Now what did I just get through telling you?”

Tony took a few more deep breaths, then hummed, “Sorry, sir.”

"You don’t sound it."  JARVIS grasped Tony’s softening cock in one hand and braced the other against the small of Tony’s back - giving him an opportunity to slow or end this.  Tony’s breath caught with obvious excitement, though, and he offered a soft ‘green’ before resuming his role.  JARVIS grinned, comforted in the knowledge he was still in the clear, and cracked his knuckles purely for effect.


"I do believe you’ve earned that spanking now."

((Wanna prompt me? Click here to find out how!))

Posted 2 weeks ago


Keziah Ravenshade, Witch of the Outlands, has sworn never to love again, but her predictable life is upended when she takes a dying stranger into her home.

Esdelot, the Golden Prince, can outfight or befriend anyone- except for the usurpers who tried to kill her with a poisoned blade. Finding the young royal delirious and on the verge of death, Keziah saves her life. But while Esdelot regains her health, betrayal comes from an unlikely source: her brother has taken the throne in her absence and declared himself king.  As the two women travel to the capital city to stop a false ruler’s coronation, they form a friendship that seems poised to turn into something more. But Esdelot has promised herself in marriage to a woman she barely knows… and Keziah knows she’s fallen too deeply for a woman whose betrothed waits for her along with her throne. When an enemy from Keziah’s past resurfaces, a mere conflict of politics becomes something that threatens to upend the gods themselves. Will love win out?

Buy My Lady King here:

What people are saying about Kayla Bashe’s writing:

Bluebell Hall is an awesome book. Seriously, it has EVERYTHING I LIKE. Magic. Boarding school story. Representation of marginalized groups. I love the writing style, and it has just the right amount of drama and calm moments.”

“At the very opening of [Bluebell Hall,] you are immediately introduced to a myriad of characters that you feel like you know almost instantly, along with a setting that comes alive before the first chapter is over.”

“Bashe continues to show off her taste for the macabre mixed with wit and dashing heroics, a combination that made Graveyard Sparrow a delightful read.

Trigger warnings: mentions of emotional abuse, blood, fire. This book also contains a rad bisexual protagonist, trans and nonbinary characters, an ENTIRE CAST of QPOC, and a road trip.


Posted 2 weeks ago
Is a non-ship prompt okay? I was thinking Bruce gets de-aged (about 6-10 years old) and only has memories relative to his age. Loki finds Bruce and also finds he has a soft spot for the scared little boy.
Anonymous asked

There was something familiar about the boy.

Yes, physically - his appearance didn’t bring anyone immediately to mind, but Loki was sure they’d met before - but there was more to him than just a vague sense of distant recollection.  His emotions, those were what made Loki stop to look at him.  He wore them every bit as obviously as he did his clothing, and they were far from positive.

"Boy," he said softly.  Loki was not in the habit of frightening children.  "Why aren’t you at home?"

The boy looked up at him and sniffled scrubbing the sleeve over the back of one of his hands across his nose.  ”I don’t know where it is,” he responded sadly.  He then took a longer look at Loki, and though his sniffling did not subside entirely, it quieted somewhat.  ”You dress different.”

'Different'.  What a polite child.  ”I suppose I do.  Do you live in this city, at least?”  Loki wasn't completely sure why he was asking.  Pity, perhaps.  Memories of being lost in Asgard were in no short supply, and he knew that the thought of never finding one's way home had a way of becoming an unshakable truth in a child's mind.

"No.  The buildings are wrong."

"Hm.  What is your name, boy?"

The boy looked at him warily, but answered, “Bruce.  I’m Bruce Banner.”

Bruce Banner?  Years of practice kept the shock off of Loki’s face, but it was a close thing.  It was so obvious now; the features were all there.  Young, perhaps; the marks of maturity clearly had several years to wait yet.  And if he didn’t remember Loki, clearly his memories had been drawn back along with his body.  But who had done this?  Loki had been busy with other things.

"Mister?  What’s your name?"

Loki flicked his gaze down to Bruce, contemplating his options.  He could kill him.  Here and now.  Never worry about coming up against that damnable green monster ever again.  And yet…

…well, he told himself it just wasn’t sporting, but Loki knew that there was a deeper truth than that.

"Loki," he answered.  "Tell me, Bruce - do you want to go home?"

There was a long moment of hesitation, but eventually, Bruce nodded.

"It took you a moment to answer.  I’d imagine you don’t much want to discuss why you don’t want to go back…but will you tell me what makes you go back despite your distaste?"

Bruce was quiet for a while again, then he finally answered.  ”My mom.”

Again, Loki’s face betrayed nothing.  He simply stood, quiet and contemplative for a while, before holding out his hand.  ”Come with me.”

Bruce frowned.  ”My mom says I shouldn’t go with strangers.”

"Wise advice for one so young, I would think.  But I cannot leave you on your own.  People with intentions far less noble than mine may decide that they don’t care whether or not you decline their invitations."

Clearly the larger words had gone over Bruce’s head, but he seemed to get the gist of it.  ”So where do you want to take me?  I told you home isn’t here.”

Loki looked up at the tower on which he had once waged a ruthless war against humanity.  Stark’s name had been reduced to a single ‘A’, and funnily enough, he’d kept it that way.  Now it served as the headquarters for his idiot brother’s team of even greater idiots.  Surely they would know what to do with Bruce.

Bruce, the green monster.  Bruce, who couldn’t go with strangers.  Bruce, whose greatest comfort in life was his mother.

Loki could relate to one of those, though he was loathe to admit it even to himself.

"I will take you to the Avengers.  They’re…heroes of a sort."

"I didn’t say I’d go with you."

Loki sighed.  ”Very well.  You’re going to see something very strange now, and I’ll expect you not to make a great fuss about it.  Understood?”


Close enough.  Loki focused a fraction of his energy, sending it away from him, and it split into a shimmering silhouette, then into a proper copy of himself.  Bruce’s mouth fell open and his eyes bugged with astonishment, but he didn’t make a sound.  Loki rolled his eyes and routed his clone to the tower.  At least if one of them decided to throw a punch, they wouldn’t actually hit him.

"How did you do that?" Bruce asked in awe.

Loki wanted to explain the science, the art of it to him.  Not to the adult, but to the curious little boy.  Unfortunately, the concepts were far beyond him…and anyway, he might carry that knowledge into his regained adulthood as well, and Loki would rather not arm Midgardians with such knowledge.  So he grinned down at Bruce, sat beneath a tree, and responded with a chuckle, “Magic.”

((Wanna prompt me? Click here to find out how!))

Posted 2 weeks ago
Lackadaisy - Viktor x Mordecai: In the back of that car of theirs. Bonus points for noisy Mordecai (HELP I'M SO HAPPY YOU SHIP THESE TWO AND ACCEPT PROMPTS FOR THEM I'M DROWNING)
Anonymous asked

((Do these two have a ship name?  Viktocai?  …Mordor?  idk.  Also, yes, cars had suspension systems in the 20s.  They were fairly new to the world and didn’t work very well.))

Mordecai gasped, toes curling inside his immaculately shined shoes.  Well, previously immaculate; they had mud and a few specks of blood on them now, but it was nothing he couldn’t fix when they got back.

If they got back.  Viktor didn’t seem much inclined to return to his spot behind the driver’s seat where he belonged.

"You - you oaf, you over-muscled, brutish - “

"Quiet," Viktor growled, and for a moment, Mordecai fancied that he could feel that thick accent flowing into his ears, warming him up from the inside.  Or maybe that was the friction of Viktor’s hastily lubed cock.  He whined loudly, slowly letting the noise build as Viktor moved, and this time Viktor slammed a rough, calloused hand over his mouth.  ”Quiet.”

Mordecai bit at his hand, which caused Viktor to snarl and tangle his hand in Mordecai’s hair, yanking back.  Mordecai yowled when Viktor bit back, sucking at the junction of his neck and shoulder.  He bucked his hips, linking his ankles at the small of Viktor’s back and protesting, “Don’t - don’t you dare…dare bruise me, you big - “

"Always noise," Viktor grumbled against his skin, pulling back and admiring his handiwork - a bright, angry mark which Mordecai would no doubt whip himself into a frenzy over later.  He thrust forward hard, and the groan of the car’s arguably useless suspension could barely be heard over Mordecai’s uninhibited groans of pleasure.  On the one hand, it was interesting to see him uninhibited.  His complaints sure got annoying, though.  "At least make good noise.”

One hand dropped down to work Mordecai’s arousal.  Mordecai threw his head back, grasping at the seat.  His glasses hung crooked now, and his wails tapered into borderline-overstimulated whimpers.

Viktor liked those, and he rewarded Mordecai with slower, more precise thrusts - aimed directly at places Viktor had hit with great success before.  Places that made Mordecai see stars, not that he’d ever admit it.  Mordecai’s eyes flew open and he started a frantic litany of Viktor’s name, interspersed with pleas to a god Viktor was fairly sure neither of them believed in.  He thumbed over the tip of Mordecai’s cock now, smearing precome and rubbing over each ridge and dip.

Mordecai’s steady canting lost its rhythm and his glasses fell to the floor.  ”Viktor - Viktor, keep going, I’m…I’m so - ”  His words were lost in a stuttering moan as he came, muscles fluttering around Viktor until he too lost himself to orgasm.  He swore in Slovakian, grasping onto Mordecai’s hips hard enough that those would probably have bruises as well…though nothing so obvious as the one on his neck.

Unfortunately, Viktor was not allowed to enjoy the glow of his climax, nor the contentment of holding Mordecai close - a weakness of his.  Almost as soon as he’d come, Mordecai made a face and goosebumps rippled up his body.  ”Clean me up, clean me up,” he muttered with dark, obsessive desperation.  ”Couldn’t this be less…messy?

"You kill a man in this car," Viktor noted, already reaching for the small square of cloth he kept back there for exactly this reason.  "Many men.  And no complaining."

"Blood is different," he argued, waiting impatiently as Viktor swabbed the semen off of him.  "Especially when it isn’t - ow!  A little care in that area, if you will!"

Viktor snorted and shrugged.  ”You clean, then.”

Mordecai raised an eyebrow at him, reaching down to the car’s floor for his glasses.  He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pristinely white handkerchief, swabbing the glass with practiced ease.  ”Why?  You made the mess.  You clean it up.  And hurry, Atlas will be waiting.”

Viktor didn’t bother to comment further.  He’d learned last month that Mordecai’s neuroses could not be fought…even after a nice roll in the hay.  His best form of revenge was just to clean him as roughly as possible without actually hurting him.

After all, he was a grown man.  He didn’t need babying, even if he secretly wanted it.

((Wanna prompt me? Click here to find out how!))

Posted 3 weeks ago
Anonymous asked

Yay, thank you!!  :D

Posted 3 weeks ago
i tried to enter your fish code but it says it was too long and cut off the end two digits? i'm using the android version if that makes a difference.
Anonymous asked

Eh?  D:  I have the Android version, too.  Are you sure you’re entering it in the right spot?  You’ve got to go to the Friends submenu (where you’d go to visit their aquariums and stuff), into the third tab (the one of a little dude in orange with a plus sign next to them).  On the right-hand side will be a spot that says Bonus Code.  That’s where you enter it.

Posted 3 weeks ago
heybucky replied to your post: “Hey, all y’all with smartphones”:
!! Found it! As a heads up, its listed as just ‘Happy Fish’ on the play store, if people were looking for it.

Whoops, thanks for pointing that out!!

Posted 3 weeks ago

Hey, all y’all with smartphones <3

I apologize in advance for promoting a phone game.

So I play this game called Happy Fish: Dream Aquarium.  It’s pretty much adorable, and it’s my favorite aquarium sim on the market.

If you guys want to surprise me with a glorious birthday present that doesn’t cost you a penny, download it, enter in the bonus code AC2J7KAV9Y, and play to level forty (yeah, I know it sounds high).  We both get free in-game currency, plus I get alpaca fish for getting a friend in as well.

Yes.  Alpaca fish.  They are exactly what they sound like.

Posted 3 weeks ago



Ex queen turned pirate being hunted down by the king’s men and naming her all female ship “the clit” and when asked why she replies, because the king will never find it.

Rival lesbian pirate finds ship immediately. Alliance is formed in no time.

Bryndis flopped to the deck, the sun shining off of the sweat-soaked umber of her skin.  Her face was dark with exertion and rage, making her freckles look almost black.  ”You!  State your name!” she commanded, her voice far too powerful for a woman defeated.

Her opponent looked down at her, lips pulled into a tight smirk.  ”I don’t think you’re in a position to be making demands at the moment, your highness.

Bryndis’ eyes widened and she scooted back a bit, hand flying self-consciously to the earrings clinking around her jawline.  Perhaps they were a dead giveaway, but damn it all, she was just too attached to them to tuck them away in some dusty, forgotten corner .  Diamond and white gold, they were something only a queen would wear.

"Oh, please.  It’s not the earrings, honey.  How many ships named The Clit are floating around, do you think?  Go on.  Take a guess.”

Bryndis didn’t blush further, though she did cross her arms.  ”Well, my husband still hasn’t found it,” she groused quietly, then corrected, “Ex-husband.”

Her opponent chuckled, then held out one hand.  It looked too small, too delicate to wield a sword with such skill, but this woman - whoever she was - was a whirlwind of metal and blood, a ferocious fighter.  Not a killer.  No, she sliced with benevolent precision, wounds which would heal but stopped their victims from fighting in the meantime.  Why, Bryndis wondered?  Why not eliminate a rival while she had the chance?  She scowled at the offered hand with obvious mistrust.

"I’m helping you up, Captain Engle."

"To stab me?"

"No.  To help you up.  Come on, before I change my mind."  Bryndis continued scowling, but she took the offered hand, hauling herself to her feet with the added leverage.  She was met with a toothy grin and a voice as smooth as silk and as smug as a cat with suspicious canary feathers around its maw.  "Captain Dogg Gillespie."

"And you obviously know I’m Captain Bryndis Engle."

"Not Queen Bryndis?"

"I think you also know that I’m not the queen any more."

Dogg laughed.  ”You mean your husband removed you from the monarchy after you fled with the pride of his fleet and half of his fortune?  Say it isn’t so.”

Bryndis smirked unrepentantly. “You have a smart mouth, Captain Gillespie.”

"Honey, please - call me Dogg.  I don’t mind ceasing the formalities for an honored and prestigious criminal such as yourself."

"Alright.  Dogg."  Bryndis backed away, folding her arms once more and giving Dogg a severe look.  "Why were you looking for me?"

Dogg didn’t seem even slightly abashed by the narrowed eyes and downturned lips.  She met the look with a brilliant smile and a, “Simple curiosity.”

"And how did you find me?"

"Oh, your highness.”  Dogg’s eyes fell half-lidded, brimming with suggestive heat.  She leaned back against the mast.  ”The clit really isn’t all that hard to find.”

It took a moment, but Bryndis’ eyes widened and the rage darkening her cheeks turned to abashment.  She looked at Dogg as if to reprimand her…but the more she struggled for words, the more her expression changed from horror to curiosity.  ”Wait, really?”

Dogg’s eyes lit with glee.  ”Are we still talking about your ship?”

"Wha - no.  Yes!  I - look, just tell me how you found me."

"Rumors and hearsay.  I took a chance.  The chance paid off."  Dogg’s face slipped into a downright pitying expression.  "Honey.  Please tell me you can find yours, at least."

"Stop calling me ‘honey’.  And of course I can."  She looked aside evasively, muttering something about ‘never orgasm if I didn’t’.

Dogg shook her head with a world-weary sort of sigh.  ”Wow. I would have stolen from the king just because I could, but now, knowing he wasn’t interested enough to satisfy a gorgeous lady like yourself, it’s a matter of principle.  I’ll bankrupt him before the year is through.”

Bryndis was torn between asking if Dogg really thought she was gorgeous and demanding that Dogg share any profits obtained from her miserable excuse for an ex.  In the end, the latter won out.  ”We,” she corrected.

"Beg pardon?"

We will bankrupt him before the year is through.”

Dogg tilted her head, a knowing smile on her face.  ”Oh?  Are you suggesting an alliance, Captain?”

"Call it what you like.  You could have slaughtered my crew if you’d wanted to, so you’re obviously not interested in killing us."

"True.  I’m not."  Dogg’s smile grew slightly.  "Allies with benefits?" she asked hopefully.

"…we’ll see."

"Ooh, we’ll see," she said coquettishly.  "I’m honored by your consideration, your hi - "

"Don’t call me ‘your highness’, either."

Dogg’s lip stuck out in an exaggerated pout.  ”Well, what can I call you?”

"Captain.  Or Bryndis."  Bryndis was quiet for a moment as she turned to walk to her helm.  Then, as she climbed the first stair, she added, "Maybe honey.  When I’m in a good mood.”

((Wanna prompt me? Click here to find out how!))