Negan sat in his prison cell, considering the woman's words in silence. But silence never lasted long with Negan. He allowed a long sigh to leave him as he closed the book he was reading.

❝ Well, I am sorry as shit for your loss, darlin'. But this just in? We have ALL lost people in this god damn shitstorm of an apocalypse. ❞ his eyes met with hers as he stood up and approached the bars.

𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒  𝐑𝐀𝐌𝐒𝐀𝐘  𝐁𝐎𝐋𝐓𝐎𝐍  𝐇𝐀𝐒  𝐒𝐀𝐈𝐃

❝ Giving orders this evening, are we, my Lady? I like that.    I have an even better idea though! Why don’t we BOTH    take our clothes off? And see where it takes us?

‘  it’s  t-true  he  did  ..  personally  bring  me  here.  and  he  gave  me  my  familiar.  ’  connor  grants.  he  gets  it  ,  the  lack  of  trust.  maybe  she  thinks  he’s  blackwood’s  pet.  &&  unknown  to  the  boy  ,  perhaps  he  was.  a  token  to  give  to  the  dark  lord.  ‘  but  i  think  i  ____  c-can  help  you  with  this.  ’  

{ @thelittlestrcse } || send me a sin for a starter and/or drabble – status; accepting

VANITY  –  the excessive belief in one’s own abilities or attractiveness to others.

♔—- He stood in the corner of the room, in front of a vanity set in place for the normal occupant’s comfort and ease of getting one’s self ready in the morning. Brushes for hair and face were organized neatly into decorative canisters, while jeweled hair clasps sat off to one side and unopened beauty products ranging from oils, to powders, to creams sat organized by size on the other.

In the center of the vanity, resting in front of a stool with a plush, velvet cushion, sat a mirror, tall enough to see most of the room behind one’s self if sitting on said stool. From his position, he could only see his reflection from the torso down, and while most of his pale flesh was covered with his clothes, he could still see his hands, and he could still hyper-fixate on them.

Loki stared at the reflection for a long time, occasionally flexing his hands or stretching his muscles a bit to watch how porcelain flesh stretched across the muscle and bone that rested beneath. For a moment, he swore he could see signs of blue peeking through, the true nature of his origins betraying him, but surely… 

Surely, that was nothing but a trick of the mind? 

His magic was thorough and deliberately calculated. He didn’t just wear the face of an average human, he shifted every single cell of his body to mimic human life. The truth couldn’t be peaking through, this must have just been a trick of the imagination, a seed of paranoia that made him believe things that couldn’t possibly be true.

After a time, he lifted his hands to eye level, carefully turning one over and then the other to examine every stretch of visible flesh. Nothing, just as he had assumed.

A sigh fell from his lips–something that he never did before taking up a human guise, though now found to be something similar to second nature–and slowly lowered himself onto the stool to get a better look at his overall appearance. Generally, he looked… lovely. Women seemed to flock to him, but so did men. He’d done well in reconstructing a vessel that appealed to almost everyone. Was this what he looked like in life, he wondered? He couldn’t remember.

His hair, however, had definitely suffered from the day’s events, so those same nimble fingers lifted to take the clasps from his intricate braid, slowly allowing his hair to fall in waves across his shoulders and back. It’d gotten quite long since the last time he’d cut it, nearly to his midback now… Should he change that? Chop some of it off, perhaps? It likely would have been normal. While some males did tend to let their hair grow, few let it get so long. He might start to stand out in a way that he wasn’t prepared for…

Even still, he lifted a gold-handled brush with soft bristles to the waves, carefully gliding it through the silky locks, mindful not to pull too hard as if worried his hair might break away.

No, he decided. Abnormal or not, he enjoyed his hair just the way it was and wouldn’t mind if it got longer. It just needed a bit more maintenance, a bit of care.

So he tended to brushing and running nourishing oil that smelled of vanilla through the thick, inky strands, smoothed it down to the best of his abilities, and took care to return the braid he once wore back to its fullest attraction. The designs were complicated, sure, many small braids running through one another to make the style look as flawless as it was overdone, but the icing on the cake?

send doodle! to my ask for me to doodle something involving Robin and/or our characters.

          ❝ It’s not for everyone. ❞ He admits. But a job like this, it was something he felt nearly tailor made for. To have insight others wouldn’t it came in handy, there was a reason he had so many drug arrests under his belt after all.