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duuhrayliegh · 3 years

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social media

warnings: none? maybe a smidgen of language? fluffy bucky, bad description of dancing? idk, there really isn’t anything in this one to be warned about it just super wholesome

word count: 2437

a/n: okay so this came out longer than i meant it to, but i’m not mad at it. there’s mention of he/they pronouns and gender identity, if i didn’t do the subject justice please let me know. also tiktok mentions and all creators are tagged accordingly so please go appreciate their wonderfulness :)

p.s.: my requests and tag lists are open!!

if you want to know where these characters are coming from, check out the other parts! you don’t have to read them in any particular order!

ray’s m.list

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Being from the 1940’s, Bucky didn’t have much education in the world of smartphones and social media. When he came out of cryo in Wakanda, Shuri wasted no time showing him the ways of the iPhone. Honestly, he was stunned because there were so many things you could do with it. So much information was available at the touch of his fingers.

Shuri taught him the ins and outs of the phone. He had gotten pretty good at it, if he did say so himself. She had just begun to teach Bucky about social media when Steve pulled him back to the Big Apple. When he returned to New York, he was able to easily contact Steve, who was not as proficient as Bucky was. So when he met the fantastical group of four friends, they began to teach him. This was one of those things that they were incredibly excited to teach Bucky about.

“So you don’t have an account on anything?” Freddie held his hand out for Bucky’s phone.

“No, I have one on something. I think Instant Graham? My friend set it up for me, but she never taught me how to use it.” Freddie smiled and shook his head, dark curls bouncing back and forth.

“It’s Instagram, bubs and that’s a good jumping off point.” He opened the black iPhone and swiped through the pages on the homescreen. Coming across the sunset colored icon, he hovered his finger over it. The screen changed, opening to a white screen with the words, WELCOME to INSTAGRAM, whitewolf. Bucky smiled at the name displayed and Freddie scrunched his brows.

“What is a White Wolf?”

“I’m the White Wolf. It’s Wakandan. We can change it if we need to.” Freddie looked over at Bucky and saw the happiness on his face at the name.

“No, it’s good we can leave it.” He clicked on the profile button in the bottom right corner of the screen. “Okay, so this is your personal profile.” In the top left corner whitewolf was written with a little arrow next to it facing downward. Freddie opened the edit profile section.

“Do you have a favorite picture of yourself? You have to set a profile picture so people know that it’s you.” Bucky nodded in understanding, and then took his phone back to scroll through his pictures. He didn’t have many, just the ones that he took recently. There was hardly any of just him, but he eventually found one he deemed good enough.

“Alright, now what do you want to put in your bio?” Shrugging his shoulders, Bucky leaned back into Cassie’s plush couch.

“What does yours say?” Freddie pulled his own phone out of his pocket. The pale lilac color seemed to shine through the clear case that it wore. Opening his own Instagram, Freddie leaned the phone towards Bucky.

|| he/they || activist || va te faire voir ||

“What does ‘he slash they’ mean?”

“Oh, those are my pronouns.” Freddie received a head tilt from Bucky, so he decided to elaborate. “So, I identify as a non-binary who is comfortable with you using he/him pronouns or they/them pronouns. If you’re talking about me to someone else, you can say ‘he is at the store,’ or ‘they are at the store.’” Bucky nodded, still a bit confused on the subject.

“When do you use each one? Like is there a certain time that you say he and him and another time for they and them?” Bucky was trying to get some clarification on the topic.

“Not necessarily. Usually, when you’re first talking to someone, it’s common practice nowadays to use they/them pronouns so as to not misgender anyone. I know it probably sounds a bit excessive and a small bit over sensitive to you, but to a queer or non-binary person it makes a whole hell of a lot of difference when someone tries to be inclusive.”

“Okay, so like if I just meet someone on the street, I should use the they/them pronouns until told otherwise?”

“Yeah, absolutely. Do you want to include your pronouns in your bio?” Bucky smiled and nodded, happy with himself that he was able to understand that so well.

“So, what does it mean to be non-binary and still use the he/him pronouns? Don’t those two contradict each other?”

“Not really. Gender is a spectrum, as is sexuality, but for someone to identify as non-binary and use he/they pronouns, means that I feel that not everything about manhood accurately describes my truth. On that same hand, I still do identify as a male.”

“Right, right.” Throughout Freddie’s lesson about gender identity, he was able to finish Bucky’s profile and begin to follow the three girls. After clicking the blue follow button on all three of the girls profiles, the group chat between them started blowing up, that was a new phrase Bucky learned last week.

Evie: um, i just got the weirdest insta notif

Penny: me too???

Cassie: I did too.

Cassie: Wait, who is Bucky with right now?

Evie: DANG IT FREDERICK I WANTED TO HELP HIM SET IT UP

Bucky: My name isn’t Frederick, Evie

Incoming Call from Evie

“What do you want, spaz?” Freddie answered on speakerphone. An indignant scoff came from the other end.

“I thought we were all going to help him with that, Frederick.”

“Um, I don’t remember us talking about that.” He laughed as the door to Cassie’s apartment opened, allowing Penny to walk in and smile at the two men on the couch. “Also, when were we going to have time to do that with you being at school and all?”

“We were going to wait until the weekend!”

“Eves, you’ve been saying that for the past like three weeks.”

“Oh my gosh, fine.” Her end of the phone got real quiet, “I’ll be home in like ten minutes. I call dibs on helping him set up a TikTok.” Three beeps signalled to the room that Evie had hung up the phone. Bucky turned to Penny and began to ask about her day.

“Ya know, the usual. Rude customers, bratty co-workers, life’s a dream at the bank.” She slipped out of her nude heels and made her way to the sofa. “What have you boys been up to?”

“We have been setting Buck up with some social media and learning about gender identity and respecting pronouns.” Freddie said proudly as he handed Bucky his phone back.

“Sick! Which ones did you do?”

“All the classics, Instagram, Twitter and Facebook just for PR though because hardly anyone uses it anymore.”

“Right, and can’t do TikTok until Evie gets here. Um, did you set up a Spotify for him?” Bucky recognized the name and the memories of Shuri helping him floated in his head.

“Oh, I have one of those. That was actually the first thing that Shuri helped me set up whenever I got this thing.” He opened the app quickly to prove what he was saying. Penny smiled and gave a small thumbs up. “I do have one question.” The two of them gave Bucky their undivided attention. “What is a TikTok?”

“Right, so it’s just short videos. It’s really pretty cool and a really good way to waste time.” Freddie answered while pulling up his own page on the app.

“Yeah, and the thing that shows you videos is curated to your tastes because it’s based on your likes and people you follow.”

“I’m almost positive that Evie is going to teach you a dance and do a TikTok with you, if you agree to it.” Penny laughed at the thought of Bucky doing one of the dances that she saw on her For You page. The door to the apartment swung open a second time, revealing a winded Evie.

She dropped her school bag on the floor, hunching over while gripping the side of the granite countertop. Evie held a finger up and the group on the couch waited for her to speak.

“I ran--” deep inhale, “I ran from the subway.” Another deep breath as she lifted her upper half, stretching out her back with her hands on the back of her hips. “You haven’t done TikTok yet right?”

“No, your Highness, we haven’t done TikTok.” She smiled big and then plopped herself on Bucky’s left side. She thrust her hand toward him, wiggling her fingers. Bucky cautiously placed his phone in the center of her palm.

“This is going to be good. Okay so since your name on Instagram is whitewolf, we can’t use that for TikTok. It’s gotta be something snappy.”

“I don’t know, I think you can use the same one for both, Eve.” Penny remarked as Evie downloaded TikTok onto Bucky’s phone.

“Well, of course you can, but we’re not going to.” She giggled as the app opened. She looked over at Bucky with wrinkled brows. “Do you have any nicknames?”

“Um, Bucky is my nickname.” He said in a duh tone.

“Well, obviously, but do you have any other ones? Like, what do your friends call you?”

“Bucky or Buck, I don’t really have nicknames.” Evie groaned and threw her head back.

“Okay, well let’s think. You’re a Sergeant. Your real name is James Buchanan Barnes. Superhero name is Winter Soldier or White Wolf. You have a metal arm.”

“You’re literally just stating facts, Evie.” Freddie said from the other side of Bucky, who was nodding along in confirmation to Evie’s statements.

“I know! I’m processing. What about vibraniumjames?”

“That’s disgusting.” “Mm, yeah that’s a no from me.” Penny and Freddie talked at the same time.

“metallicsergeant? jamesbby? Any of those tickle our fancy?”

“The first one isn’t terrible, but it’s not great. Why don’t you just use whitewolf like his Instagram? Or you could do iambuckybarnes.”

“Yeah, I’m with Freddie. I like whitewolf or iambuckybarnes, it’s simple. And I am the White Wolf, so yeah.” Bucky said to a disgruntled Evie.

“Oh my gosh, fine. We can always change it later, but this is fine for now.” She set up his profile, making it match the other ones that Freddie had made. Once she was finished with her work, she turned to Bucky and smiled big again. “Now, I can teach you a dance and if you’re cool with it we can post it on your profile.” Bucky shook his head and pulled himself off of the comfy couch beneath him.

“If we’re going to do this, we need to do it right, so don’t hold back on me.” He smiled as Evie squealed in excitement.

“You know, my school friends were just dying to see the day that you got social media.” This statement confused Bucky.

“And why would that be?” Evie laughed as she scrolled through her TikTok feed, searching for the right dance to do with Bucky.

“Well, for one, they think you’re hot and they’re thirsty hoes.” She clicked on the original dance video, showing the screen to Bucky. “And, for two, they love you. Everyone does.” Bucky shook his head at that. He did too many bad things for everyone to love him.

“Hey, remember what we talked about?” Penny said from across the room. “We don’t downgrade our progress. Most of the general public is more forgiving than we give them credit for.” Bucky nodded then focused his attention on the video.

“This is Cardi B’s song Up. People on TikTok have made a challenge of doing this dance to the song. I think it originated with a girl named Mya Nicole. Anyway! We’re going to do this one, if you’re up for it.” Bucky looked at Evie with one brow quirked. There was so much shaking in this. Nonetheless, he shrugged his shoulders., it clearly was making Evie happy so he wasn’t going to take that away.

“Sickening! Okay, let’s start learning it.” It took a good hour and a half to help Bucky move his body in the way that the dance required. By the time they were ready to start filming the actual video, Cassie had walked in.

“What is happening here?” A large smile spread across her face as she watched Bucky and Evie practice one last time. A breathless Evie turned to Cassie.

“Bucky agreed to do the Cardi B Up dance with me.” She then turned to Bucky, “You ready to do this for real?” The tall man beside her shook his head while laughing.

“Yeah, let’s do it.” From the safety of the couch, Freddie, Penny and Cassie were watching the scene before them unfold. Both Bucky and Evie jumped into frame, with their legs spread wide. Throwing their fists in front of them and then behind their legs in time with the music. Bringing their hands above their head to clap and then jumping again, throwing just one hand up at a time.

Shifting to the side, the pair brought the leg closest to the camera up to their waist while hitting it back down with their fist. They both remained facing sideways as they shook the leg they just hit and ran their hands down their torso. The pair did another vertical jump, bringing their knees up to their fists. Once their feet hit the floor, they folded at the waist, slamming their palms flat on the ground.

Smiles were plastered on both their faces as they finished out the dance, knees bent, bouncing their legs back and forth while tossing their hands above their heads. Loud laughter rang out from the three friends in the living room as Bucky and Evie dropped to their butts. The video ended with Bucky and Evie yelling at the other three in the room.

“You’re definitely going to go viral with that one, Buck!”

“Like an infection?” He asked with wide eyes of concern, more peels of laughter rang out.

“No, like famous, lots of people are going to see it.” That relieved and scared Bucky at the same time. He wasn’t quite sure how he felt about it, but he knows that his friends wouldn’t steer him wrong.

“Now we can caption it something cute!” Evie breathed out as she leaned over the couch next to Cassie, who was now curled up beneath a fluffy white blanket.

“Don’t forget to tag the original creator, I hate it when people don’t do that.”

The video was posted with the caption,

iambuckybarnes: am i doing the tiktok right realpokemonevie? dance cr: theemyanicole

And it wasn’t long after posting that Bucky got a call from Steve that he needed to come into the tower.

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@mishaandthebrits

#twenty first century liabilities #bucky barnes x oc #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky fanfic #bucky fanfiction #bucky barnes #marvel imagines #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n

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egcdeath · 3 years

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wrong place, wrong time

summary: a drunken mishap leads you to reconcile with someone from your past. (based off this prompt)

pairing: andy barber x reader

word count: 2.1k

author’s note: this fic has been sitting in my drafts, half finished, for like months. i hope you enjoy!

warnings: extremely brief mention of cheating

“I just think things would be better if we… you know, saw other people,” Oliver explained through the phone.

You sighed dejectedly into the microphone, before deciding to hang up, and aggressively tossing your phone onto the leather seat next to you. You’d already had a shit day at work, and you really didn’t think that you could handle all of this today. Especially considering that you were almost certain that there was the hint of a feminine giggle in the background of that call.

You’d been expecting this for a while, your relationship with Oliver had been falling apart- slowly but surely- for a few months now, and he was ‘working late’ way too many nights for you not to be the slightest bit suspicious. But it still hurt, you were now single, and you’d essentially wasted a precious year of your life with a douchebag who ended up leaving you anyway.

You pressed your foot on the gas, and began your drive back home, before telling yourself fuck it, and deciding to turn onto a side road so you could head to your local pub.

-----

Several drinks later, you were extremely drunk. From that point on, everything was a bit of a blur.

You stumbled out of the bar (against your own will? You vaguely remember someone telling you that you needed to leave), sat in the back of an Uber (how much did you tell them? Probably too much), arrived at your home (but why weren’t your keys working?).

Things were a bit less blurry here. You can remember yourself repeatedly stabbing your keys into the door, and when that didn’t seem to work, deciding to hoist yourself over your fence, and get in through the back.

During this whole ordeal, you tripped over a seat on the patio, losing a shoe in doing so, and nearly fell into a pool, since when did my house have a pool? You ignored that thought, then opened the back door, getting in with no resistance.

You hobbled inside, closed the door behind you, then stumbled up the stairs, before finally finding your (?) bedroom. You flopped down in bed before realizing that you really needed to pee, and as you went to go find your bathroom, everything seemed to go black.

----

You woke up extremely disoriented in a vaguely familiar bathtub. It faintly smelled of pine, and possibly a hint of vanilla. The tub had a modern and sleek look, yet appeared to be as sterile as a hospital room. This was absolutely not your home. But it possibly belonged to someone you knew. The tiles lining the wall did seem to ring a bell somewhere deep in the foggy abyss of your hungover brain.

As you sat up, you groaned due to the consistent pulsing in your head. This had to be one of the worst hangovers you’d had in a while, and you were lucky that you didn’t lean over and empty the contents of your stomach right that instant.

“Stupid fucking Y/N,” you whispered to yourself. “You’re lucky all of your organs are still intact.” After stating this, you glanced down at your torso just to make sure. But a larger question still remained, where were you? Did you hook up with someone? Did you just randomly break into someone’s home? That’s a little ridiculous. Who would do something like that?

Apparently, drunk you would. In the process of exiting the tub, you concluded that you absolutely were in someone elses' gargantuan of a home, and that that person was undoubtedly down the hall, taking a phone call. Also, you were definitely missing a shoe.

You glared at yourself in the mirror, smeared makeup on your face, hair that looked so frizzy that you may as well have been struck by lightning, and of course the overwhelming scent of dry liquor that seemed to be seeping out of your skin. You turned on the sink and splashed your face, trying to completely wake up, and to partially figure out if this was real life, or just a horrible dream.

“Fuck!” you exclaimed out loud to yourself. How would you even get out of this situation alive? Perhaps you could find a window to jump out of. No, too dangerous. Hide in the bathroom until the man leaves? Well, everyone has to go to the bathroom at some point. Leave without being spotted? Mhm, very likely. Go talk to the homeowner? It doesn’t seem like you have any other option right now. You internally screamed at yourself for being so reckless, especially having gone through all of this drama for a guy who didn’t deserve one ounce of your attention.

You slipped off your remaining shoe, then slowly made your way out of the bathroom, peeking behind the doorway to see if the coast was clear, and trying to plan your explanation in the process. As you peered around, searching for the quickest and easiest exit, you realized just how familiar the home was. But what really did it for you was a painting on the wall.

This was Andy Barber’s home. The same man you hooked up with a few times before ghosting. You sighed exasperatedly at your own poor decision making for what felt like the millionth time that morning.

You had to get the hell out of here. Fast. Lost shoe be damned.

You somewhat remembered the floor plan, so managing to get out unnoticed began to seem just a tad bit more possible. You began to jog it down the hall, trying not to be too heavy footed as you went, in the event that Andy was standing in the eyeline of one of the open doors. Unfortunately for you, in the midst of your beeline down the hall, you were spotted.

“What the..? You know what Lynn, I’ll call you back in a bit.”

“I can explain! Don’t like… kill me or something. I promise you that this is just a big misunderstanding,” you were speaking without really processing anything that you were saying. You turned to face the man, and couldn’t help but to smirk a bit at the sight of him. You forgot just how attractive he was, with a full beard, fluffy hair, and soft blue eyes that seemed to be boring straight into your soul from across the room. Not to mention his sculpted body, which you swore you could make out beneath his sweatpants, and worn white shirt. Really, Y/N? First you ghost a man, break into his home a year later, and now you’re objectifying him?

You moved towards the door and began to speak again, your words flowing out at a million miles per minute, “Uhm, so long story short, I basically got really drunk last night, and I thought your house was mine, so I kinda broke in. But I’ll be seeing myself out now,” You gave a curt smile, and looked towards the stairs. “Before I go, any chance that you’ve seen my left shoe somewhere around here?”

It was clear that Andy was very confused, but as you read his face, you could see that he was far more intrigued than angry. “Hey, not so fast.” He approached you quickly, his eyebrows lifting in surprise, and his mouth gaping open slightly. “No fuckin’ way. Y/N?”

You scratched the back of your head awkwardly and nodded, “yeah.”

“You’re not getting off the hook that easily. Lucky for you, I was about to make breakfast, aaaand I’m not totally opposed to being joined,” he gave you a genuine smile, and a playful little shrug.

“That’s fine with me but- this sounds kinda strange- can I use your shower first?”

“Go right ahead. Mi casa su casa, right? I mean, kinda sounds like that’s what you were thinking last night,” Andy peered at you inquisitively at this, “I’m just kidding. Feel free to use anything you need.”

You couldn’t even blame Andy for his passive aggression, but that didn’t stop you from sulking the whole way back into the bathroom.

----

“I forgot how good your water pressure is,” you announced while coming down the stairs, clad in a college hoodie that you’d found in the depths of Andy’s closet, and shorts that were just a tad too large for you.

“Thanks, I guess?” Andy flipped a pancake, then turned to get a good look at you.

“You’re welcome. It smells so good down here,” you slipped into a barstool at his granite island, and observed him while he cooked, “so... you still live here alone?” You asked while you were passed a mug of coffee.

“Well, yeah. I mean that’s kind of what happens after your wife and son die.”

“Uhm.. sorry. For bringing that up again,” you glanced down awkwardly at your dark drink.

“It’s okay, they’ve been gone for a while,” he sat down at his seat, setting down a plate of food for you and himself. “What’ve you been up to? Apart from breaking and entering, of course.”

“Ha ha, very funny,” you began, cutting into a syrup-soaked pancake. “You’re no saint either. I can’t think of anyone in their right mind who would gladly break bread with someone who drunkenly broke into their home.”

“That’s fair,” Andy stated, almost dismissively. “But it's not like we’re total strangers. We have history.”

You scoffed at this, “like hell we do,” you muttered. “Anyway, things with me have been pretty boring. Same job. I had a boyfriend, but he just dumped me like, 12 hour ago. I’m pretty sure that he’s been cheating on me for like, the past four months.”

“That sucks,” Andy commented, shoveling a piece of pancake into his mouth.

“Yeah, it does. How about you?”

“You know, same old. Still an ADA, still getting messages from random people about that trial, and of course, still perpetually lonely.”

“By no means do I mean to impede, but maybe you’d be a little less lonely if you let people in,” you suggested, looking up from your food to Andy, whose face gave away the offense he was feeling, “I said maybe.”

“What do you mean?” He questioned, brows furrowing.

“Come on, Andrew. You know exactly what I mean. Like with us, I thought everything was going perfectly well, until I was half asleep and you were telling me that you weren’t ready to commit. Literally moments after you were balls-deep in me.”

“Don’t call me that, Y/N,” Andy squinted at you in agitation. “Is that why you stopped picking up my calls?”

“What do you think?”

He sighed softly, “If it’s any consolation, I’ve been trying to do better. I talk to a… counselor… every now and then. Everything’s just been different ever since they passed, you know? It’s hard to form connections after your most intimate ones disappear in the blink of an eye.”

You frowned a bit at the man, and set down your fork. “I get it. I’m sorry.”

“Do you, though? Get it?”

“Not really. I was just trying to be supportive,” you turned a bit in your seat to get a better view of Andy. “I just wonder if we had this conversation a year ago if you and I would be in a better position now. I really liked you a lot.”

Andy was silent for a moment, and observed you pensively. “Let’s try again, then. It seems like you and I both are ready for something new.”

“Oh Andy,” you rubbed the back of your neck anxiously. “I just got out of a relationship less than a day ago.”

“Then we can take this, whatever it might end up being, slow. It would be nice to have a friend around who doesn’t just want to talk about work, and tell me that they’re sorry for my loss.”

You nodded, “I’ll probably need a shoulder to cry on at some point sooner than later.”

“So... friends?”

“Friends,” you agreed with a smile and a lift of your shoulders.

Part of you hoped that maybe, just maybe, this could be the start of something great.

#andy barber x reader #defending jacob #chris evans x reader #andy barber x you #hey i wrote that lol

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hteragram-x · 4 years

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Remus Sanders is an artist HCs

I think that there are too many people who sleep on the fact that Remus is an artist. I mean… sure… his creativity is probably mostly spent on creating disturbing thoughts and coming up with lewd jokes. But I refuse to believe that he does not make art just for the cool aesthetic or to put his ideas into a tangible object (or performance). I’ve seen more stories where Virgil was an artist for some reason... and Remus wasn’t even if he’s a literal embodiment of Creativity. Gotta fix it.

We know that Roman is an excellent singer and actor. He can draw (Mona Lisa) and write (gift for Logan; songs; poetry) as well. But he couldn’t really play an instrument (see: Moving On) and he mentioned that Thomas probably shouldn’t show his dancing skills, so maybe he’s not the best at that too. He’s good at costume design and tried interior design as well. The list goes on. He clearly has his strengths and weaknesses in this department.

So what about his brother? (get ready for that Creativitwins content… and maybe some hints at Intrulogical and Dukeceit too)

...

1. Remus is great at playing instruments. He can play almost everything he tries if you give him a few minutes to check how it works. But being his chaotic self he most often plays instruments that are super loud and annoying.

2. When no one listens he sometimes tries instruments that are more soft and romantic, but you’ll lost your ears and eyes if you ever discover it. Deceit once did. He promised to not tell anyone, but he still remembers the sight of Remus with a silver harp, singing some angsty ballad like a dramatic bastard he is.

3. He likes to make his own instruments too. From everything. And I mean everything. Which includes vegetables, bones, soil, parts of furniture or dirty laundry. Don’t ask.

4. He’s good at singing, but prefers playing.

5. So he often plays for Roman and since they both enjoy coming up with their own songs they regularly perform something one of them wrote.

6. They sometimes try rap battles, so Roman can practice for his eventual rematch with Logan, but rapping is really not their style. And most often than not they end up laughing too much to perform and just add as much nonsense and disgusting jokes to the lyrics as possible.

7. And maybe when Thomas was younger they had a very “hardcore” band called: The Empire Has Fallen. And maybe they sang about not being loved and appreciated. So what? None of our business.

8. Remus is great at sewing (yes, sometimes it means visiting the sewers). And costume design (have u seen his clothes?!). At first most of his drawings were inspired by Roman’s – he just wanted to do something that was a complete opposite. But later he gave himself more creative freedom.

9. Remus designed and made Janus’ costume. I mean… the snake boy is fashionable and all. But it doesn’t mean he can create something on his own. He just said “black and yellow… and I want a hat” and Remus was like: “ALREADY ON IT!” (at first he gave him a bee costume with a top hat as a joke).

10. He’s not great at interior design, because he values the creepy aesthetic over comfort and practicality. So his room was mostly created by Roman who kept the colour scheme and the atmosphere of a damp and weirdly luxurious basement, but added a lot of pillows and greenish lamps in various corners. (There was a long argument about keeping the artistic bloodstains on the walls.)

---

11. He’s excellent with make-up. But he does not try too hard while doing his own, because he likes to look like he has not slept for two weeks.

12. He can dance, but doesn’t do that often. Especially since part of his charm is being intentionally ungraceful and positioning his limbs at weird angles. However, he dances with Roman or Janus if they want to. (With Roman it often ends in a playful fight; with Janus dancing can turn into a semi-romantic, passionate performance to some villain songs.)

13. He’s just as good at drawing as Roman, but obviously their inspirations are very different. Remus most often draws people… with way too many details and a lot of attention to anatomical correctness. You know exactly what he draws. I’m not gonna say it.

14. Logan taught Remus a lot about anatomy of both humans and animals so he can draw as realisticaly as possible. And if they dissected a body in the basement to be extra sure how the liver looks that’s also none of our business.

15. When they were kids Patton promised he will put his drawing on the fridge next to Roman’s if he promises to not draw blood and corpses. Initially he drew some disturbing pictures of naked people to mess with the rest of the sides, but only Logan could look at them without being too grossed out. And since Remus really wanted some validation, he showed Patton his designs of new weapons and pictures of deep-sea creatures (some real, some fictional). A few of them were on the fridge for so long that the ink has slightly faded.

16. The pictures of sea creatures were partially responsible for Logan’s fear of the bottom of the ocean. But it’s a phobia fuelled by curiosity and scientific fascination so he does not complain and often complements the most terrifying designs.

17. His weirdest creative outlet is creating new animals. (Roman’s manticore-chimera was heavily inspired by Remus’ mush-ups). And maybe he sometimes invites a certain local nerd to admire his work and help him with coming up with Latin-based names for his dear abominations. And maybe they enjoy adding antlers to fish a little bit too much. And then giggling about it. Stop judging. Gosh…

18. Remus is unfamiliar with the term minimalism. Or rather he pretends it does not exist. With his ideas the concept of “less is more” will never apply.

19. He loves sculpting. He’s not great with it, but you can make a big mess with clay, so he finds it relaxing. Sewing is also relaxing, but in a more “I’m already calm so let’s do something tame” sort of way. Sculpting is better to vent. Ya know… create a face out of clay and then punch it real hard. Or smash a block of granite with a mace and see what interesting shapes you end up with.

20. The art he’s most embarrassed with (if he’s capable of such a feeling at all) is his doodles. He thinks they’re too soft and cute. But he draws them anyway, because sometimes he’s just tired, but still needs to do something with fidgeting hands and all the ideas buzzing in his head like a swarm of hornets.

...

More to be added. I myself am full ideas.

[I did part 2. It’s HERE, if you’re interested.]

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butterflies-dragons · 4 years

Note

Do you have any theories/predictions/headcanons about post resurrection! Jon? Especially how he'll treat Sansa?

Hello Anon,

I have read some theories and predictions about post-resurrection!Jon but I’m not a fan of any of them. I don’t think that “Jon will come back a bad boy to fit in Dany’s taste of men” for example. And some other speculations sadden me because they say Jon will come back sterile or having lost his memory.

About Jon and Sansa reunion tho... I've thought about it a good deal. Especially about these passages:

Robb took them all the way down to the end, past Grandfather and Brandon and Lyanna, to show them their own tombs. Sansa kept looking at the stubby little candle, anxious that it might go out. Old Nan had told her there were spiders down here, and rats as big as dogs. Robb smiled when she said that. “There are worse things than spiders and rats,” he whispered. “This is where the dead walk.” That was when they heard the sound, low and deep and shivery. Baby Bran had clutched at Arya’s hand.

When the spirit stepped out of the open tomb, pale white and moaning for blood, Sansa ran shrieking for the stairs, and Bran wrapped himself around Robb’s leg, sobbing. Arya stood her ground and gave the spirit a punch. It was only Jon, covered with flour. “You stupid,” she told him,“you scared the baby,” but Jon and Robb just laughed and laughed, and pretty soon Bran and Arya were laughing too.

The memory made Arya smile, and after that the darkness held no more terrors for her. The stableboy was dead, she’d killed him, and if he jumped out at her she’d kill him again. She was going home. Everything would be better once she was home again, safe behind Winterfell’s grey granite walls.

—A Game of Thrones - Arya IV

***

The noise receded as she moved deeper into the castle, never daring to look back for fear that Joffrey might be watching … or worse, following. The serpentine steps twisted ahead, striped by bars of flickering light from the narrow windows above. Sansa was panting by the time she reached the top. She ran down a shadowy colonnade and pressed herself against a wall to catch her breath. When something brushed against her leg, she almost jumped out of her skin, but it was only a cat, a ragged black tom with a chewed-off ear. The creature spit at her and leapt away.

—A Clash of Kings - Sansa II

***

Myranda gave her a shrewd little smile. "Yes, she was the very soul of wisdom, that good lady." She shifted her seat. "Why must mules be so bony and ill-tempered? Mya does not feed them enough. A nice fat mule would be more comfortable to ride. There's a new High Septon, did you know? Oh, and the Night's Watch has a boy commander, some bastard son of Eddard Stark's."

"Jon Snow?" she blurted out, surprised.

"Snow? Yes, it would be Snow, I suppose."

She had not thought of Jon in ages. He was only her half brother, but still . . . with Robb and Bran and Rickon dead, Jon Snow was the only brother that remained to her. I am a bastard too now, just like him. Oh, it would be so sweet, to see him once again. But of course that could never be. Alayne Stone had no brothers, baseborn or otherwise.

"Our cousin Bronze Yohn had himself a mêlée at Runestone," Myranda Royce went on, oblivious, "a small one, just for squires. It was meant for Harry the Heir to win the honors, and so he did."

—A Feast for Crows - Alayne II

The first passage could be a foreshadowing of Sansa being the first Stark to meet post-resurrection!Jon:

“There are worse things than spiders and rats,” he whispered. “This is where the dead walk.”

When the spirit stepped out of the open tomb, pale white and moaning for blood, Sansa ran shrieking for the stairs (...) It was only Jon, covered with flour.

It happened the same with the second passage:

When something brushed against her leg, she almost jumped out of her skin, but it was only a cat, a ragged black tom with a chewed-off ear. The creature spit at her and leapt away.

In some sense the black tomcat of the Red Keep could be a representation of Jon, the cat is even called “black bastard”, and when the cat brushed Sansa’s leg, it scared Sansa in a similar fashion than Jon playing to be a Ghost back in the Winterfell Crypts. We can even say that the black tomcat acts like a ghost wandering around the castle reminding some people of Rhaeny’s kitten Balerion.

And in the third passage we see how the true Sansa Stark slipped out from the Alayne Stone persona at the mere mention of “some bastard son of Eddard Stark's.” And at the mention of a member of her family safe and sound, Sansa thinks how sweet it would be to meet him again:

This is another hint that a first Stark reunion between Sansa and Jon is rather probable.

Another hint is that with Lady’s death and Jon’s death, Sansa and Jon could be each other missing part, since Sansa lost her direwolf and Ghost lost its master. In summary:

Jon’s direwolf name is Ghost;

Jon literally died so he also is a ghost himself; and,

Sansa’s direwolf was killed and is mentioned as a “shade”, which is a synonym of ghost:

Summer’s howls were long and sad, full of grief and longing. Shaggydog’s were more savage. Their voices echoed through the yards and halls until the castle rang and it seemed as though some great pack of direwolves haunted Winterfell, instead of only two … two where there had once been six. Do they miss their brothers and sisters too? Bran wondered. Are they calling to Grey Wind and Ghost, to Nymeria and Lady’s Shade? Do they want them to come home and be a pack together?

—A Clash of Kings - Bran I

This passage about “direwolves haunting Winterfell” is very telling, specially because haunting is what spirits do, and Ghost & Lady’s Shade stand out among the wolf pack.

So all of this could be also a hint of Jon and Sansa retaking Winterfell and start howling calling the rest of their siblings to come back home, to be a pack again.

This imagery of “Ghost and Shade haunting” is repeated in a Victarion’s chapter, as it was pointed out in this post.

Two sleek galleys sail from Meereen and Yunkai south toward New Ghis for supplies and legionary reinforcements, but encounter the Iron Fleet in Slaver's Bay. The galleys evade Woe and Forlorn Hope, but are captured by Iron Wing, Sparrowhawk, and Kraken's Kiss. Victarion Greyjoy beheads their captains because they said that Daenerys Targaryen is dead. Victarion kills their crew aside from the enslaved rowers, who are forced to join the Iron Fleet. Victarion renames the ships Ghost and Shade, believing they will return to haunt Yunkai.

[Source 1] [Source 2]

***

The galleys he renamed Ghost and Shade. "For I mean them to return and haunt these Yunkishmen," he told the dusky woman that night after he had taken his pleasure of her. They were close now, and growing closer every day. "We will fall upon them like a thunderbolt," he said, as he squeezed the woman's breast. He wondered if this was how his brother Aeron felt when the Drowned God spoke to him. He could almost hear the god's voice welling up from the depths of the sea. You shall serve me well, my captain, the waves seemed to say. It was for this I made you.

—A Dance with Dragons - Victarion I

And curiously enough, it is vastly speculated that Victarion may have died and came back to life thanks to the Red Priest Moqorro. The same way it is vastly speculated that the Red Priestess Melisandre will perform some fire ritual to make Jon come back to life. So we can say that Victarion is also a ghost. And both Jon and Victarion have a hand burned.

So, I’m sure that Jon and Sansa will meet again and we have textual evidence that they will team up to retake Winterfell. How will Jon come back to life? It is not certain. Some theories say that he will be more beast than man for a while, since his soul will inhabit inside Ghost until he resurrects. And since Sansa has a long training in taming beasts, she will do well with post-resurrection!Jon. There are also some theories about Sansa taming Beast!Jon with her singing and helping him heal and bringing back his humanity. I agree with those theories.

Good night.

Thanks for your message.

#anon ask #jonsa #post-resurrection!Jon #beast!jon #ghost and lady's shade #ghost and shade #direwolves #victarion greyjoy #moqorro #melisandre of asshai

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batfamilysays · 3 years

Text

NUMBER NEIGHBOR

in which damian wayne meets his number neighbor

old draft of oc x damian

wc: 3468

GOTHAM CITY

TINSLEY'S APARTMENT

06:32 PM

Friday comes too quickly and Damian is nowhere near ready.

His lips are still busted open from the preceding evening’s scouting and his hairs grown out far too long, hanging in tufts right below his brow and curling the daintiest bit in a mess of matte black. Small dark rings kiss his tanned skin and tug at the lids of his jade eyes, dulling the color every so slightly to a muted green.

Nothing is right.

Every article of clothing in his wardrobe suddenly seems inadequate for meeting the girl he has been anxiously anticipating ever since he sent the text. He’d probably still be trying to decide on what garment to wear had it not been for Jason chucking a pair of jeans at him and telling him to leave.

Damian isn't dense, he recognizes he's quite aloof at first, he knows his demeanor is unsettling, so as he stood in front of her apartment complex, arm raising to knock, his mind begins to wander.

Was this worth it?

Was the prospect of her getting hurt enough to make Damian turn around, could that ever-growing cavity in his stomach be filled by someone else’s presence? Someone, he doesn’t care about half as much as Tinsley? Someone who didn’t fill it with maddening butterflies and a troublesome warmth. Or could perhaps Damian be allowed this? Allowed this small wedge of pleasure in a world that seemed to grant him nothing but iniquity and desolation?

Fortunately for everyone involved, he didn’t have time to decide for himself as the door swung open and a pair of arms encased his torso with enough force he stumbled back against the hallway’s stained walls and knocked his head against the plaster with a disquieting thud!

An instinct burned into him since childhood shouts, screams at him to push whomever this was away, and retaliate with tenfold that amount of brutality. Yet somehow he can’t quite hear outcries, they seem muffled against the vanilla and honey redolence that embraces him, filling that basin in his stomach to the brink with warm marmalade and crystalized sugar.

“Damian!” such a faint voice whispers, so soft the Wayne almost doesn’t catch it over his shooting heart at the close proximity with the girl he was only just now identifying as Tinsley Nolans, his number neighbor, ‘“Oh my god this is such a surreal experience.”

Hesitantly Damian returns the embrace, his hands engulf the shorter woman in his arms and the scent of her fragaria shampoo and conditioner saturating his senses in a wonderful mellow mix. Her hair blinds him and Tinsley couldn’t help but notice how delicately he was touching her, it was as though she was glass and he was a man destined to shatter it.

It was as though the lion had fallen in love with the lamb.

“You smell really good.” Damian says through a sigh, only belatedly realizing just how awkward that was after the words leave his throat, “Oh my god that sounds so creepy I didn’t mean it-”

“You smell really good too,” It wasn’t what Tinsley had planned to say but if it would make Damian less uncomfortable she was okay with scraping her original sappy speech - besides he really does smell good, “Like mint and smog.”

He knows the smokey fragrance is from the gas bomb he had used the night prior on a few of the riddler’s henchmen, but Damian lets that thought drift peacefully from his head as her hands began playing with the fabric of his shirt, her lips moving in small puffs as she says, “It’s really crazy to see you, it’s like I’m meeting my best friend for the first time.”

The reply he goes with is cheesy, but he can’t find it in himself to care, “I am seeing my best friend for the first time.”

Drawing away with a grin Damian allows himself this one self-indulgent act, allows himself to drink in the slightly shorter girl in front of him, her sandals adding at least an inch in height with their white chunky heels and strappy bases. Tinsley’s hair was laying in long strands across her shoulders, each perfectly curling at the end and crooking up at the base of her neck. A flannel was thrown indolently around her shoulders to add a bit of warmth to the grey cropped shirt and ripped black jeans and Damian couldn’t help but inhale at the peaks of bronzed skin that appeared with every movement she made.

Shaking his head Damian attempts to refocus on her smirking face, a smug look gliding across her eyes like koi fish swimming their deft routine. With the quick realization, he hasn’t said anything for a good two minutes, Damian quickly spouts out, “You look um-nice Ley,”

“You don’t look too bad yourself edgelord,” She adds a playful wink and loops their arms together with comfortable ease, almost as though she knows that’s how they’re meant to be, connected, “C’mon let’s go I’m dying for taco bell,”

Damian, without reluctance, permits his body to decompress, the tension and nerves seeping out with every warm glance she offered and the soft touch of her skin against his flesh, “I don’t know how you can stomach that garbage,”

“Tsk. Such a rich boy thing to say,” Stopping briefly to pop her head inside the flat Tinsley yells, “See you tonight!” To her mother - who roars a warning to Damian - and resumes dragging the much larger man down the corridor with her.

“I’d be careful with what you say, I’m the one with a license after all,” Damian simpers and extracts the keys from his pocket, wagging them in front of Tinsley face teasingly, satisfied with himself as she lets out a childish huff and pouts in a fashion he finds sinfully adorable.

“I regret telling you that wholeheartedly, besides I’ve got my redo in two weeks soo I’ll be the one driving you places, “ Tinsley snatches the keys from his arm and dashes down the hall, only turning back around for a second to stick out her tongue and wink, emitting a boisterous, “Race ya!”

With a playful roll of his eyes, Damian pursues her, knowing full well he can catch up to her with ease if he so chooses to.

He doesn’t.

Instead, he watches from behind as Tinsley twirls and titters as if a ballerina executing a routine only she knows of. Damian wasn’t religious by any means, but this - this was something eternal, something sacred. That carefree expression etched into her face as she reaches the end of the hall, those teasing insults she spews at him while walking to the elevator, the warmth of her skin against his own as she places the keys in his hands and climbs into the passenger side of the car.

It prompted a feeling to froth in Damian’s chest, a feeling he never wanted to be rid of, a feeling that made the pit in his stomach seem not so deafening after all.

GOTHAM CITY WAYNE MANOR 07:02 PM

Driving back to the manor was an experience - to say the least, and Damian found himself learning a few different things.

Firstly, She was a wretched singer, throughout the complete car ride her bellows of off-key glee songs left Damian to regret not insisting control of the aux.

Secondly, She really was awful on the road, she screamed every time the car went over train tracks and went on and on about being crushed by two trucks and becoming a truck sandwich if Damian ever got too close to other cars.

Lastly, Damian is absolutely smitten with her.

The sky had turned frigid in the half an hour it took to arrive at the manor, it lays across them like a white blanket of frost and punctuates each of their breaths with puffs of grey- something Tinsley took benefit of when doing her red hood impression with the mock smoke of a cigarette.

Damian walks up to the house, his hand interlocked with Tinsley’s for what he would never admit to being for anything other than warmth.

The manor really is quite fantastical, with noble pedestals of brown and beige driving up to the roof, complex patterns incised into the granite walls and alabaster steps, each window a darkened hue that makes them seem all the more ambiguous than Tinsley already thought them to be.

A key is fitted into the cold doorknob and Tinsley smiles as Damian yanks her inside, a small yelp leaving her lips as he does so with a probably unnecessary amount of force. Though, in his defense, he didn’t want to waste any time that could be spent inside with her instead of in the freezing night.

“I cannot believe you live here…” Tinsley allows herself to drink in the magnificent interior design, her heart swelling when she directs her gaze back at Damian, whose own eyes have been locked on her the whole time, the same expression coating his eyes when looking at her that she had looking at the structure, “I can’t believe you’re here.”

Damian swears his heart skips a beat, and so he rather than confront the emotions and pressure fabricating in his gut he releases her hand and walks over to the couch, his back turned to the dejected expression Tinsley holds.

“Soooooo,” Tinsley trails off and plops onto the almost comically large couch, the pearly white cushion sinking under her weight and fluffing out around her head, “I’m still a firm believe we should order Taco bell and watch Twilight.”

Setting next to her Damian kicks off his converse, facing her with one eyebrow raised, “Ah yes cause I’m a well-known vampire fanatic.”

Tinsley sits up and punches his shoulder without any malice, her fist barely being felt through Damian’s thick jacket, “Ya know what buckeroo it’s good! Yeah, the acting is less than subpar but the story arc is great!”

With a swift flick of his wrists, he grabs her hands in his own, “Doesn’t an 18-year-old end up with a literal fetus?”

Though Damian may not have been the biggest movie watcher he had read his fair share of cheesy romance novels - for research purposes of course - and twilight was most certainly included in that list.

“That’s not canon!” She argues, twisting so she was on top of him, arms still pinned to his.

“Didn’t the author write it?” Damian easily flips them a second time, the urge to be tender overwhelming despite the usual harshness in his fighting. But this wasn’t a fight - not really - and he needed to get used to that. Because with Tinsley it never would be a fight.

Scrunching her eyebrows together in thought Tinsley groans, pouting out her bottom lip as her list of arguments ran out, so instead a simple “Shuddup!” would have to suffice.

It was only then did Damian realize the position they were in. Tinsley pinned under him, her brown hair a makeshift halo under the fluorescent yellow lights and casting a yellow glow to her face, which almost seems to radiate pure rapture as she beams at him, such heat and affection it makes Damian want to cry.

He’s a murder. And murders don’t deserve this. No matter how much he wants too.

Getting up Damian turns his attention back to the screen, face heating up as he flicks the screen on, “So what do you want to watch?

GOTHAM CITY

CITY ROOFTOPS

12:57

Wind ruffles through his matte black hair and the cold brings his jade eyes to tears, the stinging of wetness against his eyelids burning like chlorine and sunscreen on a blistering summer’s day. Everything seems to anger him nowadays, the way the sun sets far too late on the horizon, how it barely caresses the moon and instead engulfs it, not a bit of fragility in the proficient routine they continuously dance. Even his telephone appears to be in opposition with him, invariably buzzing to life with sweet texts from the one person he refuses to be in contact with but so desperately desires to.

Perhaps he was a bad person, Damian, had mulled over this thought all of last night, the words replaying in his head until they didn’t taste correct on his tongue or sound right for his ears. They reappear at the forefront now, when he is dawned in his vigilante attire and perched on Tinsley’s rooftop with the claim to be patrolling for crime when everyone knows that was most certainly not the reason for him being there.

Seven Days. For seven days Damian has ignored every one of Tinsley’s persistent calls and texts, the fear of falling too deep for a girl who could most certainly do better than him devouring every bit of his soul. Eventually, the calls had trickled out and the texts became sparse until she finally cut him off altogether. He wanted to blame Tinsley at first, wanted so badly to make their devastating separation her fault when in actuality it was all Damian.

He had been the one terrified of getting hurt. He was the one who was scared she’d leave him. He was the one who knew she could do better. He was the one everyone abandoned. He was the one no one wanted. He was the one who had fallen in love with a girl on the internet.

Everyone had tried to help in their own ways, Bruce had tried for days to figure out what was wrong, even threatening to take him off duty if he didn’t tell him. Dick had taken him out for ice cream in the hopes of cheering him up. Jason took Damian to shoot things, Duke spared with him to let him relieve stress, Stephanie had bought him cat toys for Alfred, Barbra had gotten him a fresh set of katanas, and Tim had sat down and just talked with him. In a way Damian couldn’t explain, this warmed his heart and filled the bits and crevices of the basin in this stomach (Especially Tim who - in a weird way - Damian was closest to)

None of the attempted persuasions worked though and eventually, Damian stopped checking the messages and the hole in his chest expanded tenfold, so large and opaque he was fearful it would swallow him whole if he didn’t find something to fill it, this would likely prove to be challenging seeing as though only two people had ever been able to completely fill the irksome hole.

His mother was the first and most prominent, but after using him for years she threw him out, discarding the son to his father after training him to kill and feel nothing but a wave of numbness. After training him to be a monster. His father hadn’t wanted him at first, he was the product of manipulation and abuse, why would anyone want that? But Bruce had to take him, despite his original wishes, and even if Dick assured Damian that Bruce did love him the youngest Wayne couldn’t find it in himself to believe that.

Tinsley Elowen Nolans was the second. But now that she was gone Damian felt as though the hole had grown in size, the only parts in him unconsumed by the darkness where the spots reserved for his family. He knew that if he had simply allowed himself to open up to Tim, Dick, Jason, even Duke that they could possibly fill the cavity. But he didn’t want their warmth. He wanted hers.

Except he couldn’t have hers.

He watches silently as Tinsley walks up to the building, fiddling with her yellow keychain to find the correct one to unlock the apartment complex doors. This was the usual routine she took, what wasn’t usual was what she does next. Damian quirks a brow under his mask as she takes out her phone and types a quick message, only understanding when his phone beeps with a message

TINSLEY

i miss you.

He shouldn’t have checked his phone, not when Tinsley was collapsing to the ground with quiet sobs escaping her lips. Her hair had been thrown into a lopsided ponytail and her mascara was starting to smear down her face with every trail of snot and whimper of inner torment. Damian wanted nothing more than to forget their fight, forget his stupidity, and jump down and make her forgive him, make her stop hurting, make her stop caring about him.

It was exceedingly critical for him to help her, comfort her. However, just as he goes to support her something pulls him back, maybe his insecurities, maybe the knowledge he was still in his uniform. Or maybe a sympathetic group of orphans who look at him with too much pity.

With a scowl Damian shakes Dick’s grip off his shoulder, turning towards them with harsh eyes, blinking away the small tears that had managed to form in his irises. A disgruntled cough leaves his throat and he adjusts the black fabric of his mask to cover his bleary eyes, “Tsk. What is it? Don’t you all have neighborhoods to patrol?”

“Bruce - I mean Batman,” Stephanie corrects after a glare from Cassandra, “Told us you refused to patrol any town but this one and

it seemed suspicious so Tim and I looked into it and that building,” She juts out a thumb to the sobbing girl and blue apartment complex, “Is not-so-coincidentally the same place Tinsley lives.”

Huffing Damian crosses his arms, “You’re right, it is a coincidence. Now shouldn’t you be swapping spit with that ugly bastard,” despite the words he isn’t trying to be malicious - he was just genuinely upset with the situation he has found himself in and is lashing out in the only way he knows how. (Okay and maybe he said it a bit to be mean)

“Robin we just want to help,” Barbra tries, dawned in her Batgirl suit, “With everything that’s gone down we don’t think it’s healthy for you to be ‘patrolling’ here. You’ll never be able to move on from Tinsley if you’re constantly seeing her.”

“Oh please he isn’t trying to move on, he’s trying to get her back.” Jason cuts in, rolling his eyes and clicking a finger against his red helmet, “Which is the right thing to do considering she made him less … well ... him”

“Red hood don’t be mean,” Dick scolds, a pitiful smile on his lips as he turns to Damian and engulfs him in a forced hug, “Whatever you need we’re here for you little D.”

“I need you all to leave me alone!”

Tim steps forward and pries Dick off of Damian, mumbling a barely audible, “He doesn’t want a hug, you’re making him uncomfortable” before turning his attention back to Damian, “Okay well anything except that.”

“Robin, what happened between you two anyway?” Cassandra finally asks, easing the question on everyone's mind with a few words, “You seemed so ... I don't know … happy? Though I have to admit I’m slightly relieved you aren’t gushing over your phone during training sessions anymore.”

“Black Bat, you straight up skip training sessions what the fuck are you on about?” Duke’s eyes go wide as Cassandra throws a knife at him, his hand shooting up and catching it with ease, “Okay damn girl.”

Cassandra snatches her knife back and throws a glare at the yellow-suited man, “Watch it Signal.”

“Can we please get back to Robin and his saga of love?”

Damian can’t help it, the tears push heavily against his eyes and finally break free from the trap of his green irises, small uneven blobs of wetness trailing down his face and plopping onto the ground with a deafening noise. It wasn’t that loud, but Damian's fuzzy head and fast-beating heart augment the noise tenfold.

Everyone goes silent, possibly from a shortage of anything to say, or perhaps from seeing such a austere boy collapse down into pitful bewailings in front of them. His legs buckle and the dark haired man fallsl to his knees, arm covering his face in pure agony as every text he ever sent replays in his mind, a broken record forcing him to relive what he’s done.

So much pain he doesn’t notice the same rag tag group of orphans engulfing him in a hug

TAGLIST !!!

@pretendthisusernameisgoodd @dickgraysonhasanicebutt @multiverseofwonders @emmaleilani96 @mcgonagalls-witches @pleasestophoney @kurosstuff @liltleaderofthelameones @water248 @blackrippedskinnybeans @evalynanne

#damian wayne x oc

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okimargarvez · 4 years

Text

REVERSE - 20

Original title: Reverse.

Prompt: Penelope is the new girl on the BAU team and Luke tries to treat her cold.

Warning: A.U., possible OOC.

Genre: drama, romantic, family, friendship.

Characters: Luke Alvez, Penelope Garcia, BAU team, Derek Morgan, O.C. Sam Cooper’ team, Roxy.

Pairing: Garvez.

Note: oneshot 62 in Garvez collection.

Legend: 💑😘👓🔦🐶❗🎲🎈👻🎬🎵.

Song mentioned: Amici per errore, Tiziano Ferro.

Reverse- Masterlist

GARVEZ STORIES

20 # Choose the wrong way then find your smell in all places

She didn't do it on purpose. She had no idea when she set foot in that shop. She had frequented this place for years. She was one of their best customers. This is the series of excuses that she says to herself, while her feet lead her to the bullpen, in a certainly not random point. She watches him as he prepares to leave. He is too concentrated to notice her presence. -Hello.- she greets him.

Luke automatically returns her, without taking his eyes off the bag in front of him. -Hello.- when he raises them, however, he understands who is there. Only his extreme control of the body prevents him from reacting in a more obvious and striking way. All he does outside is to slightly narrow his mouth. -Uh, Garcia, it's you.- he pretends to be indifferent. -Do you need anything?- in reality, he is describing each of her features as usual. The salmon-colored dress with a square neckline, the huge yellow flower that has absolutely nothing to do with the rest, the white jacket with black polka dots, the hair curled only on the tips, the necklace of stones (black), the brown glasses and that ridiculous, very strange transparent plastic that covers her. He is not expert enough in fashion to know the name of that business. But he doesn't think it can keep her warm. She would be much better off if she wore something like his jacket. Well, not right his own.

In the present, she is shaking her head. -Not for me.- she seems uncertain. She certainly has something in store, but he doesn't even try to imagine what kind. Garcia shrugs, taunting him. -I noticed that your desk is the emptiest of the BAU and I bet of the whole building.- she looks down, in the direction of her bag. He had been expecting such a comment for a long time, but he knows it didn't end there. -...and I happened to find...- she extracts an object, small. -This.- she puts it in front of his nose, smiling, hopeful, convinced that he will like it.

And she's right. All of Luke's self-control goes to hell, due to the mix of that figurine and the expression of Penelope. He can't decide which of the two is the sweetest. -Wow, but it's identical to Roxy.- he comments, gently pulling it out from her fingers, having enough time to see how good is the contrast between the shades of their skin. Both they also feel a shock, as usual, at that very short contact.

She is literally hopping on the spot. -It is, isn't it?- she asks, not caring about the rest of the world, about the other agents, mostly bureaucrats, who look in their direction, not understanding the reason for such enthusiasm. The man glares at them and everyone returns to do their own business. But he doesn’t realize that he has defended her.

-Yup.- he lays it on his desk for a moment. Both look at the effect on it. -Thanks.- he adds, but then withdraws it in his own bag. He wants to show it to the original for a second opinion. They head towards the elevators. Someone dares to peek at them as they pass, but as soon as Luke raises his eyes, they retreat like snails into the shell.

-You're welcome.- they stop in sync. -And how are you?- then she seems to consider it an excessively personal and perhaps annoying question (of course she does everything by herself, he doesn't reply anything, not even with a single gesture), but instead of withdrawing it, she replaces it with a more neutral one. -The case in Vermont was very bad. Don’t you think so?- he nods.

But then he shrugs. -Quite.- he has seen far worse, even if he understands what she means. As an animal lover, it is easy to sympathize with one who kills hunters. And as for the other half of the murders, it is almost tempting to consider him innocent. When they arrested him, he looked right at him, asking that they help him. He didn't want to kill. He had an illness. He sighs. Certainly she would have deserved a more comprehensive answer.

Something in the glance he gives him suggests that a declaration is coming, one with a capital D, as Chrissie would say. -I just wanted you to know that... Even if you keep thinking that I don't deserve this role, if you need to talk to someone, to let off steam, I'm here- he doesn't correct her, just because he wants to see how far she goes -even if you don't want me to.- the shock has reached stratospheric levels.

He tries to replicate something, but all that comes out is her surname. -Garcia.- who knows what the heck she reads, in his tone, because she starts again to ramble, talking fast, wandering, confusing him only more. And that desperate, lost expression not even she confessed that she loves him and he rejected her with a no thank you.

She moves her head, her hands, she passes them on her face, on her neck, then she manages to hold them still, squeezing them against her body. -I know, I exaggerated, I once again crossed the borders, but I am this.- again, she catches something in his gaze, perhaps thinking that Luke considers it an egoistic, stupid justification. -If you really can't stand it, I'll find a way to hold back.- it sounds like a promise that will cost her a lot. -But I just wanted...- she shakes her head. -I thought that after you confiding with me about Reid, that something had changed, that I had managed to scratch a little that granite heart you have in your chest.- the last sentence snatches an amused grimace from him.

The definition seems appropriate to him, and it is certain that Christine would approve. -All right, I admit it.- Garcia is right, something has changed in their relationship. Neither of them can believe that farce of him that hates her. It has become a kind of innocent game between them. With all that wandering, with her clumsy attempts to cheer him up, with that kiss on the cheek (has he perhaps forgotten it? Of course he didn’t), her light caresses, her gifts, her attentions in general... in short, yes, she deserves to hear the truth out loud. -I don't mind having you around, I'm glad you came, okay?- he watches her biting her lips, hanging from his lips. No, what he thought it is not right. She hadn't understood it, or wasn't sure. But now she knows. -But I won't stop teasing you, Penelope.- and he walks away, just as he hears the sound announcing the arrival of the elevator. She almost runs to reach him. He waits until she is on board, too, to finish. -I'm having too much fun.- this time, however, she doesn’t fall into his provocation.

She looks at him with her mouth open. -Luke?- she finally manages to stutter.

He looks at her smug. -What?- he presses the button and the doors close.

-Did... did you notice that this is the first time you use my name?- she is too genuinely happy. It is hard not to return her smile.

-Well, everyone makes mistakes.- Garcia, however, doesn’t buy it, not even at all. -Enjoy the moment.- he adds, and that's exactly what she does, dropping the bag on the ground and throwing her arms around his neck in an embrace. He feels she is about to come off, probably already regretted having ventured so much and at the same time already violated the promise she made him (and that he didn't ask her); but he stops her by holding her against him, her breast on his chest, her head on his shoulder. Neither of them moves their hands in caresses, although both would like to do it. She smells deeply the scent of his fabric softener, of Roxy, of the labors he had to face during the day. He is totally inebriated by her floral aroma that wraps him like a blanket and drives him crazy. They think the same thing. It tastes like home.

TAGS: @martinab26 @thinitta @shyladystudentfan @pegasus-scifichick @paperwalk @inlovewithgarvaz @the-ellen-stuff @astressedwriter @symphonyashley @kofforever @myhollyhanna23 @tootsienoodles @centiaaa @penelopesluke @dumbdraws @onefail-at-atime @reidskitty13@adorarapril @princesstreaclefanfic @glocknade111-blog @magiunific @fallen-novak @dreatine @hopelessdayydreamer @painterofhorizons @racing-against-the-sunset @majo0803 @vickyd-2012 @writing-whats-that @wearejuststars@klngzeewp @heylittlehollywood @kirstenvangsness @blu3crush@futureperfectmedia-blog @jade-cheshire3303 @life-between-pages @tooshorttobeanadult @xxlonelyghostxx @honeydoodles @pennypeabody @alessiapolimeni @londonrosebooklovingwitch @bbyxk @full-on-fangirl @catlynhoss05 @lushmp3 @glittergunshots @tinymiko

#garvez #criminal minds #cm #luke alvez #penelope garcia #penelope x luke #luke x penelope #garcia x alvez #alvez x garcia #a.u.#o.c.#tiziano ferro #amici per errore

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obsidiancorner · 5 years

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Celebrity Overnight- Chapter 2

ObiYukiWeek 2019 Pairing: Obi/Shirayuki Word count: ~2500 Prompt: Gluttony

Shirayuki follows two steps behind Obi as they walk up the stairs to his apartment. Everything about the decor of the building is carefully neutral. The walls are a soft eggshell white in the pale light of specialty light bulbs and fixtures. The grayish early-American style stain on the wooden wall trim and matching stairs feels timeless.

She feels anxious, like a nervous energy is simmering just below her skin and banking, only in part, by the solace she takes in knowing Obi has been the very definition of ‘a perfect gentleman’ over the course of the evening. She had been so eager to get out of the limo, which had felt smothering after the heat of their red carpet performance had been followed with a glance into what Obi might be like in bed thanks to the obligatory sex scene of the movie.

Even the knowledge of how the film industry works, knowing that the director had literally been involved with every touch, every kiss, every angle, and every thrust, hadn’t broken the spell of her heated fascination. Then, she’d had to endure a limo ride while she radiated tension. He’d given her space but his knee would bump hers every now and again and each time her fever surged higher.

When he had asked if she wanted to come up while he changed, she leaped at the opportunity to get out of the enclosed space. Distance. Distance would be good…. Except now she has to face being alone with him in his apartment… While she is trying to fight a one-sided fire.

Brilliant.

They stop in front of apartment 2D at the far end of the hall but, instead of pulling out keys for the lock, he raises a fist to the door and raps twice. Inside, a chair groans against a wood floor and three knocks answer, followed by the sound of a deadbolt being released.

Shirayuki’s heart sinks, sending ripples of despondent aching coursing through her. She’d expected something like this. She knew it was all publicity when she went into this date agreement and she curses herself internally. Men of his caliber are not men who are single and she knows better than to lose her head over some guy just because his charm is natural and unintentional.

Of course he has a secret girlfriend. Of course. Tonight was nothing more than free publicity for an upcoming action star and her father’s new movie. It had always been and still is nothing more than an act- par for the course for a Hollywood hot-shot. Natural chemistry means nothing in the grand scheme of life- especially lives consumed by the entertainment industry.

Hidden behind him where he couldn’t see her face, she allows the disappointment at both her forgetting the terms of their date and his evident unavailability. She wants to run, to admit this was a bad idea and just go back to her apartment to sulk with a tube of cookie dough and a pint of Ben & Jerry’s Karamel Sutra ice cream, her father’s afterparty be damned. Her heart stings, beating fast and angry against the confines of her ribs.

As the door opens, she feels the heat of a blush surge to her cheeks as she mentally prepares herself for an awkward encounter with a woman who is likely the stereotypical half-plastic Bunny... tall, blonde, legs up to her neck, and breast augmentation to some obviously unnatural degree- the sort of woman who usually serves as arm candy to Hollywood’s hottest hunks.

“Thanks, Ryu,” Obi says, startling her from her thoughts.

A non-committal hum replies before she hears, “I wasn’t expecting you home this early.” but the voice is surprisingly male. It’s youthful and awkward, cracking slightly at the beginning of the statement. Shirayuki peeks out from behind Obi’s arm and comes face to face with azure eyes as wide and deep as the waters of the Mediterranian Sea. She can’t help the squeak that comes out, startled as she is to find a teenager blinking back at her.

Delight surges through her when she realizes it isn’t last year’s Playboy Bunny of the Year but it is immediately tempered with a heavy splash of cold guilt when the boy’s eyes immediately turn down toward the floor. She hadn’t meant to startle him. She hadn’t expected a child at all, much less one that is so shy.

“Ryu, Shirayuki. Shirayuki, Ryu,” Obi says by way of introduction as he steps aside to usher her in and the boy ducks back into the apartment. He chuckles and Shirayuki looks up at him. Turning to face her fully, he whispers, “he’s shy and usually keeps to himself but he’s a good kid and a genius with special effects.”

As if that explains anything at all. Who in their right mind decided letting a child stay with Hollywood’s newly crowned ‘Most Eligible Bachelor’ was a good idea? Where are his parents? How did he come into Obi’s care?

Some of her puzzlement must show on her face, or maybe the gears of her brain are simply grinding too loud because he adds, “I’ll explain later if you want, Miss. But right now I’d just really like to change. This tux is constricting.”

Shirayuki scoffs. He should try wearing a dress sometime. This damnable number the stylists has squeezed her into may look quite fetching with it’s shimmery green fabric hugging her every curve, but she hasn’t taken a full breath in hours for fear of bursting a seam somewhere. She keeps her opinions on formalwear to herself and moves past him into the wide expanse of their living room before it dawns on her that he had successfully distracted her… again.

To her right is an impressive kitchen area covered in granite countertops and sleek wood cabinetry a few shades darker than what was present in the hall. Ryu sits at the six-seater dining room table with notepads spread out around his laptop as he studies a film she’s pretty sure was made by Wistaria Entertainment. Curious, she thinks. There’s a massive TV mounted on the wall in the living room and yet he prefers to study a film on his laptop.

“Make yourself at home. I’ll be right back,” Obi says as he walks around her and disappears down the hall. She blinks at his receding back until he turns a corner and is obscured by a wall. She shifts her weight from one foot to the other as a means to occupy herself.

She feels awkward loitering just inside the door with nothing but a studious and shy teenager to keep her company. She satisfies herself looking out the sliding doors of the balcony at the far side of the room to where the lights of the city stand out like stars in the night despite all the lights in the room being on.

“Since he seems to be forgetting his manners, I’ll ask,” Ryu pipes up. His voice is almost a true monotone and she focuses on the back of his head as if it will illuminate how he must feel being left alone with some strange woman nearly a decade older than he. “Do you need to use the bathroom or want something to drink?”

“I’ll wait, but thank you for the offer… Ryu, wasn’t it?”

It isn’t without effort that she keeps her tone light and her voice steady. She doesn’t know how to do this. She was expecting awkwardness with whatever gorgeous woman is in his life, not awkwardness with a child Obi, for some inexplicable reason, has guardianship over.

He hums as a response, like he hadn’t quite heard her and is silently asking for her to repeat herself before he sighs and sets down his pen. He still doesn’t turn to her but mutters a soft “You’re welcome,” before picking his pen back up in anticipation of whatever is happening on his computer screen.

Tires squealing, glass shattering, and metal crunching on the screen in front of him is followed by rapid movement of his pen across the paper and makes Shirayuki curious so she inches closer. “What are you watching,” she asks, trying to at least keep conversation going until Obi comes back from the depths of the apartment.

“It’s an old movie about death. I’m studying the special effects used,” he tells her, pausing the film as a log from a semi-trailer impales a car. She recognizes the film. She was nearing the end of elementary school when it came out and she tries not to be offended by it being called ‘old’ since he was probably an infant back then. In terms of Hollywood and technology, it is old. He might as well be studying the Matrix in terms of age but at least the graphics in that movie were ahead of its time when it was released. Maybe he already had, though.

He presses play and she squints, turning her head sharply to avoid seeing the aftermath. She’s in medical school and can handle blood and trauma at a gross scale but that series of movies are all about the cringe factor and unnecessary, gratuitous gore. She opens her eyes to find Obi leaning against the kitchen counter with his arms folded across his torso. The amused smirk he wears makes his amber eyes smolder.

She’s trapped, like the mosquito in Jurassic Park. She knows she’s still breathing because she can feel the fabric of her dress stretch against deeper draws of air because suddenly there isn’t enough oxygen in the room, no matter how full her lungs get. It’s dizzying for a moment, until she manages to pull her eyes away from his.

She bites her lip as she drinks him in. He’s classically handsome in the white tee shirt hugging every curve of hard muscle on his chest and arms and the tailored almost-black blue jeans leave very little about him to the imagination. She definitely does not belong with a man who looks like that. She’s no Pier Angeli.

Damn, if he doesn’t wear ‘Rebel Without A Cause’ well.

She’s captivated, lost in Old-Hollywood bad-boy style that seems both true to himself and contrary to the outstanding gentleman he has proved himself to be over the course of this evening, until a shift of his hips breaks his casual lean and brings him to standing at his full height. Shirayuki is a woman who prides herself on not being one to swoon over an attractive man but Obi is making it quite the challenge as he saunters over to where she stands by Ryu.

The room feels too hot and her skin burns as though she has ben set on fire. She knows she’s blushing from her hairline to her toes. There’s an urge to hide, to turn away and walk out the door, but it doesn’t override her want.

Obi looks like a certified masterpiece. Even Michaelangelo’s ‘David’ sculpture can’t compare to him as he glides toward her, oozing confidence and sex appeal. “Ready to go,” he asks innocently, as if he hadn’t just watched her ogle every inch of him with a degree of shame that left her blushing but wasn’t quite enough to stop her. He grabs his black leather jacket from the coat rack tucked against the wall behind the dinner table and drapes it over his shoulder before turning back to wink at her.

Realization crashes over her. He’s putting on a show- he wants her to check him out and she played right into it. She gave him the exact reaction he was hoping for if the dangerous cant of his lips is any indication. Oh, he is a sneaky one.

He must realize he has been caught and he lets out an amused huff before turning his attention back to Ryu who, mercifully, hadn’t been paying attention to anything but his computer screen. “I don’t know what time I’ll be home, Ryu. You’ll be okay, right,” Obi asks as the second version of the car accident comes to a close and the teens realize they have successfully evaded death.

He doesn’t look up from where he is still scribbling notes. “I’ll be fine but I won’t wait up.”

“I’ll call or text to check in, okay,” Obi says, ruffling Ryu’s hair.

He never stops writing as he bats Obi’s hand away but he leaves his freshly mussed hair alone. “Have fun,” he says. He adds, “stay out of trouble,” as an afterthought and Obi laughs.

Obi gestures to head out as he grabs his keys off the hook on the wall and opens the door but she hangs back. “Good night, Ryu. It was nice to meet you.”

He actually stops what he’s doing, then, and turns in his chair to face her. There’s the smallest hint of a smile as he says “You, too, Miss Shirayuki. Goodnight.” His eyes are still lowered but she feels light, like his acknowledgement is his acceptance.

Since this publicity stunt will be an ongoing adventure, it is helpful that he likes her. Even though Obi has done a good enough job of sheltering Ryu from Hollywood press from what she can tell considering she’d never known about his underage roommate, it wouldn’t be believable if she didn’t get along with those in Obi’s circle of friends.

Obi closes the door behind them and twirls his keys around his finger as they begin the walk down the hall. “What’s with the keys,” Shirayuki asks as a means to fill the silence. Nothing has been awkward yet but she has no intention of finding out if quietness will breed discomfort and ruin what has otherwise been an evening that is memorable for good reasons. “Won’t they ruin your pant lines unnecessarily if we have a driver?”

“Why, Miss,” he says, lifting his hand to his chest to feign embarrassment but the near predatory tilt of his smile, white teeth bared and flashing in the dim light of the hall, reveals his amusement. He definitely saw her checking him out and has zero intention of letting her off the hook for it. “Are you so concerned with the silhouette of my pants?”

“Not personally. No,” she lies. Keys in his pocket would certainly detract from other views and that would be tragic. “I just figured you would be.”

That startles a laugh out of him. “You are something else, Miss,” he muses. “But I texted my driver and told him to go home to his wife and kids. I’m driving to night,” he adds with another wink.

The whole night has been an experiment in assumptions being dashed by better realities but hearing that he knows and has considerations for the personal details of the lives of the people he employs is heartwarming. Obi truly is a man of mystery and nothing like any actor she has ever met.

It is a crying shame that it will end in some sort of grandiose breakup after the movie hype has run its course.

#obiyukiweek19 #obi x shirayuki #celebrity overnight #modern au

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langwrites · 5 years

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Tag Game: OC Interview

Tagged By: @owlsofstarlight

Rules: Pick a character from your WIP, and have them answer these 15 questions, then tag 15 people!

1. What is your full name?

“Khalil ibn Naviyd al-Fulan! Though I guess if you wanted to be extremely technical and kind of a pedant, you could keep going back through Baba’s family as far as you wanted. Past a certain point, even he loses track.”

2. What does your full name mean?

”Khalil, son of Naviyd, of the town called Fulan. The town’s name is probably longer, and I kind of left out Jad, but he doesn’t have a Mishik name anymore. Baba says he picked the name ‘Copernicus’ for some reason, but at that point he was already on a ship to go shoot generals in Alanris, so I guess they aren’t talking.”

3. What are your nicknames/other names?

“Nicknames? Well, most people just call me Khalil. I only break out the full name if I want to make a point to someone. Sometimes strangers have already heard of Baba before I ever meet them.

“I honestly think most people think of me more as ‘that one wild Mishik boy’ if they don’t know my name. I’ve also lied a few times and said my name was Sohrab or something, but those only need to work for a few seconds.”

4. Whats your gender?

”I’ve always thought of myself as a boy, or a man once I got older. Mitra said the trick is that I absorbed all the gender stuff in the womb from my twin. Which is her. It’s what makes me so charming.”

“Damn annoying is what it makes you.”

“Pffff, I love you too.”

5. Whats your sexuality?

“I’m into basically everyone equally. But I’m not really into...uh, romance? Kinda can’t stand it. I don’t really want to ‘settle down’ with anybody, ether. I’m kind of a live-and-let-love guy, which pertains to me, too.”

(He’s aromantic pansexual.)

6. Where are you from?

“Gabilan! It’s this city in the mountains way the hell out in the middle of nowhere on the edges of Kaltekan territory. We’ve got magic--magic people, magic sheep, magic holes in the sky that spit out monsters every week--and also plain old everything. And a lake.

“Most people expect Mishik to be from somewhere else--blah blah racism--but my parents went there after the Kaltekan Civil War because it was being put together by Baba’s friend. It didn’t quite work out that way, but hey, nobody ever made a cake without breaking a mountain or two.

“What’s with the funny look?”

7. How old are you?

“Twenty! And I bet you nobody in my old group thought I’d do it with all my fingers. They owe me money now!”

8. What is your magic form/species?

”I’m Mishik, which means I’m a human who’s descended from the people chosen by the gods. Apparently. Baba never really said so, but basically we’re the people who are way more likely to be mages than everybody else. Something like one in four of us, and that counts for anybody who’s even part-Mishik, too.”

“That said, uh. Most mages aren’t exactly like me. I get to have a spirit yelling in my head about responsibility. I’m not sure what it is, exactly, but it’s loud as fuck and definitely has a lot of scales. It’s where my magic comes from.

“A lot of people have Others, but most of them have them there. They’re real and touchable. I just get a nag.”

9. What does your human form look like?

“Can’t you tell? I’m a human person.

“Fine, fine, I’ll give it a spin. I’m five-foot-seven, ish? My skin’s pretty dark, and my hair’s black and curly unless I fix it somehow. Eyes? I have them. Blueish-green and with the Mishik iris rings, since that’s a thing we’re known for, and I’ve got the best smile in town. Any town. Just ask!

“Hmmm. I’ve also got three piercings in each ear. I’d get a nose ring if Baba didn’t already have one, since that makes me look more like him. Therefore: old. And I guess I dress like a Kaltekan, but robes are a pain! If I can’t climb a cliff in it, I’ll hold off until I’m ordered to wear it.

“Unless it’s a party. Then let me break out the everything.”

10. What’s your aesthetic?

”What’s an aesthe--Oh. Hm. You know, that’s a good question. I like plenty of things, but it’s been a while since I had to think about what defines me.”

“I think I’d start with stones. Gemstones, sure, but also sandstone and granite rock faces and things like that. But before you even get out of my magic preferences, we’d have to talk about pretty patterns on silk and in flowers, and absolutely mirrors have to be in there somewhere. Smoke, too. Probably a ton of other things I’m forgetting.”

11. Who’s your best friend?

“It’s a tie! Two of my favorite people in the world are Oceanus and Allie, and they’re sort of like a weird cross between friends and siblings. I make them want to roll their eyes so hard they fall right out of their heads.

“Though nowadays, I like the idea of expanding my friend-circle. Tirane’s a good one for that. Or horizons. I forget which.”

12. Would you ever get a piercing/tattoo?

“Way ahead of you! Ear piercings so far. Navel later, I think. No nose rings ever, unless Baba finally admits he’s past forty and takes his out.”

13. When are you happiest?

“When on an adventure! It’s even better with friends.”

14. What’s your biggest secret?

”...Despite what you’d think, I actually do take some things seriously.”

“And I’m aware enough of my shortcomings to know that’s exactly what my Other wants me to fucking figure out. It’s just...not something I can do right now.

“And that bastard doesn’t deserve to win at anything over me.”

15. What was your first impression of ______?

“Of Riyaz? Sleepyhead. Turns out he actually has a personality when it’s not two hours past midnight, and that personality is a great one to hang out with if you’re in a lazy mood.

“Tirane’s fun, which I got right the first time we met!

“Oceanus was this half-size feral child who literally bit me once. But we’re friends now, and it’s pretty fun to hang out and fail horribly at fishing while he laughs at me.

“Oh, and I absolutely loved Alena the first time I saw her. She was a shy little girl who literally hid from me behind her aunt. And then it turned out she read better than I do and wanted to fix that problem for me, and then I was the one hiding. It’s quite the reversal!

“And I had to get a second impression of Mitra, because Mother botched the first one. Mitra’s fun to piss off all the time. But I wish we had more time together as kids, you know?

Tagging: @abalisk, @writer-and-artist27, @ezzelbean and anyone else who’d like to do this. :D

#terramir gang #my ocs #Khalil #Naviyd #Mitra #ask games

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thedancingb19 · 5 years

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As If It’s Your Last

So this is my first attempt at posting fanfiction on here. Please be gentle lol

Damian Wayne x OC

Part 1

The nights were peaceful, as they should be. The city lights glimmered against the black backdrop the night sky provided and gave the city almost an ethereal glow. It almost hid the nasty underbelly the city had to offer. That’s how it always was. The shimmering lights and dazzling views usually distracted eyes from the drug deals, the rapes and anything else that occurred in a city with a high crime rate.

Dark blue eyes hidden beneath a black mask took in the beauty with a different view. They wanted to see the good in all people and all things even after everything that had happened to her. Black curls that had fallen from her braid, hung in ringlets in those sapphire orbs as she was waiting and watching. Patrol was going to be a boring one tonight, especially because she was by herself. Suddenly the com link came to life in her ear and the last voice she wanted to hear came through.

“So when are you going to come home Em?” Grayson’s voice sounded tired. “Running isn’t like you.”

Emerson sighed and stood, the wind whipping against her skin almost burning her in a way. “Is she gone?”

The massive sigh that came through was her answer. Emerson rolled her eyes and leapt down from her perch atop the air conditioning unit to the roof of the Wayne Enterprises building. “Until she leaves,” Emerson bit out, unfortunately showing her age and immaturity. “Consider me out on patrol.”

“Emerson,” A gruffer, sterner voice came on. “Enough of this, get back to the cave now.” A click signaled the lost connection on the link making Emerson grimace. Great, she thought as she jumped over the alley between buildings to the next one in line. She continued this until she hit the pavement where her Ducati Panigale was hidden from the scrappers wandering eyes due to its matte black color. Now Bruce is pissed at me too. Slipping her katanas in the holster she specially built for the bike, Emerson took off towards her home and permanent place of torture at the moment.

*****

She parked her bike in the cave, finding it unusually empty which made her shudder. That means they were already here. Emerson pulled her mask off and ran upstairs through the back staircase so as not to be seen. Once in her room, she threw the mask on her desk before catching a glimmer of red and black lying on her bed. Raising a groomed eyebrow, her blue eyes widened when she realized what it was.

She had gone out shopping with her friend and fellow teen titan, Cassie when they found a dress shop. Emerson had never owned a dress, the Yakuza more focused on making her a killing machine rather than a pretty princess. However she had found a dress that made her heart melt. It was an all-black halter style dress with pleated skirt. Within the pleats, it was a glittering crimson. There were sparkling red bottom heels next to the dress making her realize who bought the dress for her. She sighed softly pulling her curls from the braids and framing them around her face before stripping herself of her patrol uniform.

This was the part that Emerson had grown to appreciate since being adopted by the billionaire Bruce Wayne. She had experienced the opportunity to be what Dick called “girly.” Touching up her makeup and outlining her eyes in black kohl, she slipped the dress on and zipped it up. On her vanity, her eyes drifted to the velvet box containing a necklace she had yet to put on. Emerson swallowed hard and opened the box watching the pink diamonds sparkle in the Sakura blossoms. She lifted it from its velvet confines and stared as it spun in her fingertips. The necklace was a present from the source of her headache and heartache. Just the sight of this made her heart stutter in her chest. Emerson swallowed hard and slammed the necklace back in the box. Slipping her heels on, she fluffed her curls and took a breath before descending the stairs.

Light blue eyes met hers from across the foyer as she descended into the living space. Dick Grayson raised an eyebrow and smiled at her but her eyes were trained on the person with his back turned to her. The glare she felt from her adoptive father though was probably the most apparent. “Emerson,” Bruce stood, as did everyone in the room, including him. “How nice of you to join us, did you finish your project?”

Project? Oh right… She smiled and bowed slightly. “Gomen'nasai, the project took a little bit longer than I was expecting.” Emerson grimaced slightly. Now they definitely knew she was nervous, at least he would. Just like she thought, at the mistake of her using her native language, the billionaire brat looked up.

Damian Wayne was slowly becoming the bane of her existence. Purely, due to the fact that her heart speeding up whenever her looked at her with his emerald gaze. She held his stare evenly before following down his body to his where his hand was on the small of an unknown female’s back. Emerson gritted her teeth and forced a smile. “It’s so nice to meet you. I’m Emerson Sakamoto.”

Finally the unknown female turned giving her a tight-lipped smile. She was pretty. Not ungodly pretty but pretty. Emerson took in her blonde curls, her light green eyes, the splashing of freckles across her nose, how pale she was, how tall she was, everything about her. “So you’re the Emerson I’ve been hearing so much about. I’m Katherine. I think we have third period together.”

Ah yes. Now I know who you are. Emerson smiled as she shook her hand, one of the blondes that sit in the back and focus more on their makeup than their studies. It wasn’t that Emerson was trying to find things wrong with this girl, but she was green with envy because Katherine had Damian’s affections. “Oh third period, right.” Even to her ears it sounded ridiculous. “Um I guess we’ll be seeing a lot of each other then.”

“Yeah we will.” Katherine gave a sickly sweet smile and cuddled into Damian’s side. “Dami talks about you so much and I always knew you were in my class but I didn’t know you lived here.”

Emerson was seething in her head. Her smile slowly was getting harder and harder to maintain. “It’s not exactly something I broadcast.”

“Well I would definitely broadcast it.” Katherine giggled, a sound that could easily grate on Emerson’s nerves. “I mean why wouldn’t you? You literally have like everything a girl could ask for.”

A small sigh left Emerson’s lips and she had to resist the urge to just unsheathe her katana and gouge the girl’s eyes out. “I don’t rely on personal possessions to make friends. Not to mention, none of this is technically mine.”

“Okay…. Well with that why don’t we sit for dinner.” Dick was beginning to see the problem and ushered everyone into the dining room. Emerson sighed softly and scrubbed a hand through her hair throwing the curls into her eyes. “You know you could be a little more discreet in your dislike for her.”

Emerson looked up and raised an eyebrow at Grayson. “I never said I didn’t like her. I deal with her in class all the time.” She listened to her heels clicking on the granite tile as she walked towards her older “brother.” Her blue eyes locked on to his icy ones. “Damian just deserves better than her anyways.”

Dick leaned against the doorframe and gave his little sister a knowing look. “I think you and I both know it’s not because she’s annoying.” He tossed his hair out of his eyes. “Does he even know?”

“He’s an idiot if he doesn’t.” She strutted past him and moved to take her seat next to Damian, her normal spot but someone clearing their throat and placing their hand on hers stopped her.

Emerson looked into one’s emerald gaze and felt herself freeze up. “What are you doing?” His voice had gotten deeper, product of puberty, and it made a shiver go down her spine. She swallowed hard and paused trying to get her brain to function properly. “Emerson,” her name off his lips was something she could die happy about but before she could fix her short circuiting being, she was pulled from her reverie by him prying her fingers off the chair. “This is Katherine’s seat. She’s sitting by me.”

Emerson felt all eyes on her as she looked up and saw Katherine’s angry green orbs. “Um, yeah……right.” She moved around the table and sat next to Dick, trying to curl in on herself in embarrassment. Damian shook his head and held the chair out for the other girl. Katherine smiled and kissed his cheek. On the inside, Emerson felt like she was watching her mother being gutted like a fish all over again. Maybe she was being dramatic but these feelings had been haunting her for the last two years. Emerson jumped when a hand covered her thigh and squeezed in support. She looked up and saw a smiling Dick watching her closely. She shrugged his hand off and pushed the food around on her plate. A giggle caught her attention and upon looking up, Emerson saw Katherine and Damian snuggled closer to each other. Suddenly her appetite had vanished.

“Can I be excused?” Emerson stood up and strutted from the table without verbal permission. She needed a long training session and fast.

*******

It had nearly been two hours since Emerson dealt with the dinner disaster and since then she had stripped of her dress and heels changing into a sports bra and leggings. She was currently beating the punching bag within an inch of its life. Every little thing that was frustrating her was being dealt to the bag. The sheen of sweat covered her skin like an oily second layer and her curls were plastered to her face. However her eyes were bright with excitement. This is what she was trained for, what she was built for. Emerson was a machine honed to perfection. She was built to fight and to kill. The second however had been dimmed since training with the bat. This took her mind off of everything including him. In fact, the bag was easier to hit when she pretended it was his face.

With one last kick, the bag gave way and a tear formed as sand spilled out onto the black concrete floor. Emerson kneeled and panted wiping her brow on her arm. Her biceps and triceps screamed in overuse but her mind was still too clouded in embarrassment to listen. It was far too clouded to even register the footsteps walking into the training room.

“So would you like to explain what the fuck that was back there?” Emerson turned so fast her ponytail hit her in the face. Damian stood there impassively watching her, his face devoid of all emotion. He was wearing a thin white t-shirt that stretched tight against his muscular torso and basketball shorts, proof that like her, he was probably there to work off steam. His green eyes hardened and he starting coming closer. “Well Emerson? I’m waiting.”

Emerson scoffed and shook her head. “Yutakana buratto,” she whispered under her breath. “You think just because you in come in here and flare your alpha male testosterone bullshit, I have to answer to you.” She turned back to the leaking bag. “I have news for you Damian, I don’t.”

Damian almost growled in frustration. He had known Emerson since she was seven years old, he ten, and they had gotten very close, very fast. The moment she put him on his ass in a sword fight, he knew she was worthy of his time and patience. However within the last few months, she had gotten distant from him, withdrawing in on herself. Damian wasn’t very aware of how girls operated but he knew something was up when he started gaining other females affections. However he didn’t put two and two together. “Let me rephrase this then. Why were you acting like a fool tonight? Why were you late? You knew I was bringing Katherine home to meet the family.”

“You two have been dating for a month. I highly doubt that that is enough time to introduce her to this clusterfuck of a family.” Emerson swung and hit the bag as hard as she could, forcing more sand out onto the ground. “Have you told her that we all run around in tights at night and fight bad guys?” Another hit.

Damian was at his limit with Emerson’s attitude. He grabbed her and slammed her against the bag, forcing the air from her lungs. “I don’t know what the hell is wrong with you but I highly suggest you stop acting like an impertinent child and fucking talk to me.”

The air left Emerson’s lungs in an instant. Damian had physically lifted her from the ground, a new development since he never could before. That was when she finally looked up at him, her 5’4” height now insanely small compared to his over six foot frame. When did he get so built? She swallowed thickly and placed her small, calloused hands on his chest as if she had enough strength to push him off. His green eyes were strained with unkempt frustration and anger and his breathing was labored as if he had just run a marathon. Emerson had never seen a more beautiful sight. “Damian….” Her voice was a breathy whisper.

The way his name sounded on her lips, Damian nearly combusted right there. Never once had he heard Emerson’s voice take that breathy tone. Not even when she was flirting with the enemies to get them out into the open. It was a sound he wanted reserved for his name and his name alone. Damian’s anger dissipated as he stared down into her sapphire gaze. She was much like him, scarred in the blood of those she had killed to seek revenge for her mother but unlike him she had a softness to her, a lightness. That lightness he had come to love when she would sneak in and lay next to him at night to keep her nightmares at bay. When she would fall asleep next to him on the couch as he read or even when she would push him in passing just to get him to smile at her. He swallowed thickly leaning down to be at her height. “Tell me what’s wrong Emerson.”

Well shit it’s now or never. Emerson took a deep breath and leaned in. She was too afraid to say it with words so she would tell him with her actions. As her lips briefly touched his, he jolted back like someone had electrocuted him. Emerson pulled away quickly blushing bright red and looked away wriggling from his hold. “I’m sorry….I’m sorry.” Her bottom lip was being worried between her teeth as she stayed incredibly still in his hold. Deep in the recesses of her mind she knew she had ruined the friendship that they had built over the last 9 years.

“Em….” Damian was at a loss for words. She had just kissed him, briefly if it was even considered a kiss but she had intended to. His unrequited feelings that he had suppressed long ago starting leaking out but he had to remain firm. “Emerson…. You know I’m with Katherine… Why would you do this?” He released her as if she had burned him. “Are you that jealous that I am not solely focused on you that you feel the need to play with my feelings?”

Emerson couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “No you jackass!” She threw her hands up and pushed herself away from him before she broke his perfect face. “I have loved you since I met you! I just came to terms with my feelings about a month ago and then you show up with that…that….Ushi!” Her accent came roaring through when she was upset but she didn’t care. Tears threatened to fall from her eyes as she turned away from him. “I’m sorry that I tried to kiss you, I was caught in the moment but do not make me out as the bad guy!”

“I am in a relationship Emerson! What part of this do you not understand?” Damian yelled back, both their voices escalating. Luckily the training room was sound proof so no other unwanted guests could interrupt. Not to mention, Damian was getting distracted by the rising and falling of Emerson’s chest and the fact she was half dressed. He may be a trained assassin but he was still a man and Emerson albeit her faults, was a very attractive female. Her black curls were plastered on her face and her freckles were more apparent since her skin was so flushed. With her back turned, he could see the tattoo that was given to her when she was seven years old marking her as an assassin for the Yakuza. The pinks and reds of the tsubaki blossoms stood out the most on her pale skin as her shoulders hunched over. He didn’t want to admit it but he was so far gone for her.

A thought ran across Emerson’s mind. “Ai,” she whispered. That was her nickname for him, love, besides dumbass. “Can you tell me you love her? Admit to me that she is the love of your life and I will drop it.”

He grit his teeth and shook his head. “You aren’t playing fair Emerson.”

“Answer the question.”

There was nothing but pure silence. Emerson moved quickly then so he couldn’t stop her and pressed her lips to his, stretching on her tip toes to reach. Her fingers threaded through his undercutted black hair and pulled him closer to her. Yes she was a bad person but she had wanted this for so long at this point she didn’t even care.

He didn’t move for a while, she didn’t know if that was from shock or the fact that he didn’t want her, but she continued to hold him close. Finally he held her against him and curved her body into him, kissing her with all of his being. The kiss went from sweet and soft to passionate and hot in less than five seconds, a new world record. His fingers ran through her curls pulling them from the ponytail so they would lay and frame her face. Then the fingers began tracing down the pale column of her throat as his lips followed behind nibbling and sucking on the skin there. Damian bit down hard earning a squeak from Emerson’s lips as he marked her. He kissed, sucked and bit his way down her collar bone physically ripping her sports bra from her chest baring herself to him. Damian smiled softly looking up at her and seeing her appearance. Her lips were bright red from being kissed and her neck was splotchy with the bruises he left there. She looked better than he had ever seen her look. “Hayeti,” he whispered against her skin.

Emerson should have stopped him. Hell she should have never initiated the situation in the first place but when his mouth was attached to the sensitive spot on her neck, she truly could have cared less. A small whimper left her throat as he moved lower down her sternum, kissing the valley between her breasts and then paying equal attention to her pert nipples, sucking and nipping them softly then blowing air over them. In the back of Emerson’s mind, she wondered how many lovers he had been with to know how to please a woman, but she remembered who his father and older brother was. It all made sense.

Damian drifted farther down, kissing a path to her navel to the top of her tight pants. He loved when she wore them in training. Back when he was fighting these hormonal urges for her, he could hardly keep his eyes off her figure. Emerson had always been flexible, able to contort her body in ways unimaginable and it made sense because she needed to fit into some tight spaces to take out some targets. However that flexibility constantly made Damian uncomfortable during training sessions, watching her, wanting to contort her that way underneath him. The small little whimpers leaving her mouth only egged him on further. He knew he shouldn’t be doing this, he was in a relationship, but Emerson and he had been dancing around each other for too long. His feelings for her seemed to be exploding from his being.

“Habibti,” it had been so long since his native language had left his tongue. Katherine didn’t like being called anything in his language because she didn’t understand what it meant. Based on the shiver that went down Emerson’s spine and the goosebumps that rose across her skin, Damian knew she liked it. His lips trailed down to her hip bones and nipped the prominent bones there. His thumbs hooked into the flimsy material, as much as he wanted to rip it off, he knew she would be pissed about it so he eased the material down her toned legs kissing around her thighs nipping the inside of them. Pushing them all the way down, she stepped from the pants leaving her in a black lacy thong. From his knees, he looked up at her, at his goddess.

Emerson kneeled down straddling his lap and kissed down his neck reciprocating the actions he had done to her. This wasn’t how she wanted to lose her virginity but she had always wanted to lose it to him. “Damian…” She nuzzled against him and rocked her hips, feeling him rock hard against her thigh. She knew he could feel how wet she was as she pulled his white shirt off his person. In the last few months, Damian had bulked up making him nothing but pure muscle and oh how Emerson had noticed. She ran her fingers down his chest, the tips stopping in the divets of his abs. She nuzzled his neck and smiled biting her lip.

Damian bit down on her clavicle and sucked a bruise into the skin there before murmuring sweet nothings against her skin. Katherine never let him touch her like this, be with her like this. Ever since he had turned eighteen, he had felt different when his eyes landed on Emerson. From the way her curls fell and framed her heart shaped face, to the way her eyes lit up every time he stepped into the room. Maybe it was the fact that he hadn’t been touched like this in weeks since he first started dating Kat or maybe it was the years of sexual frustration of staring at Emerson grow into the beautiful young woman but he couldn’t deny how the young Japanese woman in front of him made him feel. His heart pounded in his chest at the feeling of her fingers down his skin and he pulled back to stare into her eyes, completely and utterly lost.

Pale, lithe fingers traced up between his pectorals to his neck and up underneath his jaw. It was as if she was memorizing the planes of his face. As her fingers ran across his lips, he bit and nibbled on the ends watching her carefully. He was always careful. He never knew when someone was going to turn on him and although they had been together for a long time, Emerson was no different. Not to mention, this wasn’t normal behavior for her. His green eyes flickered to her mouth as her tongue darted out and moistened her lips, a nervous habit she had developed in the last few months.

As much as he wanted to take her here and now, the image of his girlfriend popped into his mind. She didn’t deserve this. He needed to end it with her before this thing he had with Emerson goes too far. However, as he felt her lips against his neck, he realized that maybe he could have the best of both worlds. Technically he couldn’t be seen with Emerson in public because everyone knew they were “siblings” but if his relationship with her remained a secret and the public just saw Katherine, it could actually work. “Em…..” It took every ounce of his being to push her back so he could see those gorgeous sapphire blues but he did it anyways and chuckled at the look of desperation in her eyes. Emerson wanted him as much as he wanted her and the thought warmed him. “We need to talk.”

“I thought we were done talking,” her fingers crept closer to the waistband of his shorts and a guttural moan left his lips but he stopped them before they could hit their main target. “Damian…” A whine left her lips and she bit her lip making his eyes catch on her mouth.

He chuckled and held her out in front of him. “We aren’t not even close to being done baby. But we need to cover something first.” He kissed her jaw and felt her relax in his arms.

“I can’t break up with Katherine.”

That statement alone made Emerson pull back and stare at him as if he had two heads. “Wh…What?” If he doesn’t break up with her… Then… “Then why the fuck are we doing this?” Her fury was evident in her voice and she pulled back grabbing her sports bra off the floor, covering herself. “What fucking game are you playing?”

“Beloved, listen to me,” Damian gripped her shoulders as he stood and turned her back to him. “I can’t be with you in the public eye. Everyone considers us brother and sister. It wouldn’t be accepted by father, anyone really.” He pulled her closer hooking his chin over her shoulder. “But, what if I stayed with you in secret?”

Emerson was a smart human being. She was the smartest in her class and that showed in her ranking of number one but she was truly dumbfounded. Was he actually suggesting friends-with-benefits? Her eyes widened and she pulled back from him as if she had been burned. “What the hell are you suggesting?”

The look in her eyes made Damian crumble. He was hurting her without meaning to. “What I am suggesting Emerson,” her name almost made him whimper right there. “I’m suggesting that we continue whatever this is but I remain with Katherine in the public eye. It’s a win-win.”

A beat of silence before, “You understand how stupid that sounds correct?”

“How is it stupid? Emerson,” Damian gripped her forearms and turned her towards him and tipped her chin up to look at him. “I want you. It’s very obvious that I want you, but I can’t leave Katherine. Not yet. Father and her family are close and it would create a rift between the parties.” He cupped her cheek and brushed curls back from her face. “I’m not sexually attracted to her. Not to mention she isn’t interested in that.” His green eyes darkened with lust and he leaned down placing a kiss on Emerson’s lips. “But I want you Em. Please.”

Emerson closed her eyes and hated herself for leaning in to the touches. After pulling back she bit her lip and tried to regain her composure. “What are your feelings for me then?”

Damian paused and kissed her once more. “I’m still sorting through my feelings but know that I don’t hold any romantic feelings for Katherine.” He leaned back in and continued his ministrations against her warm skin. If he could bottle her scent he would. She smelled like vanilla, roses and everything he loved wrapped in a single package. “Please consider Emerson. I would treat you like a queen.”

Emerson whimpered as he touched her but she tried to shake off her haze. “But it’s not the same. You don’t actually love me.” How could she honestly accept this? If he continued what he was doing, she could feel her resistance crumbling. “Or do you?”

“I told you I’m still sorting through all the things I feel,” he nuzzled her and moved his hands to the exposed small of her back. “Emerson, please. Trust me. I can make this work.”

Emerson swallowed hard and considered her options. She didn’t have long to weigh them because Damian was all over her. He caged her body against the wall and lifted her so her legs were wrapped around his waist. His member was pressed against her clothed core and made her breath stutter in her lungs. His teeth were on her neck, nipping, sucking and marking her. “Da…..Damian…..” The strength in her arms was slowly dissipating. “Wait…. I didn’t… I didn’t give you an answer.”

Damian growled and the grip on her hips tightened. It was like she had flipped a switch in him and he was no longer thinking with his right mind. “Last chance…. Emerson.” The words were bit out as if he was physically holding himself back from just taking her right there.

Every though ran across Emerson’s mind in that moment. Was this the right decision? Does he actually love me and is too afraid to say it? What if he’s lying to me? She arched as his lips tugged her erect nipple through her sports bra and a breathy moan left her parted lips. Finally the words that Damian had been waiting to hear left Emerson’s parted lips.

“Let’s do it.”

#damian wayne #smut #own character #batman #robin #damian #bruce wayne #batfamily #fanfic #older damian #wayne

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bywandandsword · 5 years

Text

Speaking of some of those Middle Earth headcanons/fanons/I’ll-write-it-myself AUS:

Everyone is bi unless otherwise specified,

Frodo is ace, Sam is his partner, Sam is married to Rosie but she’s not Frodo’s partner, they’re like a cute little poly water molecule and Sam is the oxygen that holds the family together

they raise all Sam and Rosie’s kids together and it’s just wonderful, domestic bliss all around

Thorin and Bilbo were the type of lovers who behaved like a married couple of 30 years rather than if they’d just met the previous summer

Bilbo is as close to nobility as the Shire gets so doesn’t give a single iota of a shit about treating Thorin like a king. If his husband does something stupid, Bilbo ain’t gonna hesitate to let him know

The relationships between Aragorn and Arwen, Faramir and Eowyn, Galadriel and Celeborn stand. That shit’s beautiful

Hobbits choose their gender, normally sometime in their twenties. Experimenting is encouraged, but most figure it out by the time they reach adulthood

Every race is diverse as frick, does this even need saying? I mean, you’ve got a whole planet of people any you’re going to tell me that all the good guys fit into Western beauty standards, cultural norms, and manner of dress? gtfo with that noise

Beren was black

the only person whose probably, definitely white is Denethor II

speaking of, the Orcs. Orc society is as complex as all the others’ the only reason they’re portrayed as wholly evil and all that is because whose writing the stories? Oh right, the victors

there were complicated political maneuvers and faction fighting and everything else behind the scenes but did the elvish historians bother to find out? Noooo

There are hard-core atheists

Some Elf: “But, Dylan, I’m a metric fuckton of years old, I witnessed the creation of the moon, I saw Arda being shaped, I’ve heard the Song of Illuvater, the gods are real I swear!” Dylan: *sipping his tea* “Prove it”

Yavanna made the hobbits, we all know it. But she made them to compliment the dwarves he husband made, only neither counted on how isolationist their creations would be

Humans! Have!The! Best! Medicine! Why the hell would Elves have need for medical care when you’re literally immortal and have immunity to most kinds of illness? You’ve got humans conducting complex surgeries and coming up with new medicines and doing the actual development in the field, meanwhile elves are still convinced that bloodletting will balance their humors

Dwarvish medicine specializes in mineral-based medication and they’ve developed, like, 20 different medications from mosses and underground bacteria that no one on the surface has even heard of

No one knows what Tom Bombadil is, least of all Tom Bombadil

okay that’s a lie, Old Man Willow knows but he’s not gonna say shit to anyone

The two Blues in the East were busy helping the communities they encountered better their quality of life because correcting inequality is a better means of stemming radicalization and thus the influence of Sauron, much more effective than, say, being a nosey, pot stirrer who only gets involved when things get dramatic, but hey, you do you Gandalf

As a result, a lot of the East is like the Middle Earth equivalent of Vermont or Iceland

The Lonely Mountain is made of sandstone and the ‘waste’ that surrounds it is just natural desert land and the dwarves in Erebor adapted some cultural differences to those living in mountains made mostly of granite or limestone and near forests

#Sword speaks #Middle Earth #JRR Tolkien

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sunevial · 6 years

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The Followers: The Young Priest

My sixth and final installment of my DMP fanfic for @internetremix (or is it?). The Murder God belongs to @miss-goggles and some scenery in the work is inspired by @missvulpix212‘s own DMP fanfic. Enjoy!

The brick walls rose high above the young man’s head, covered in interweaving vines and greenery whose name was just at the edges of his memory. He ran his fingertips over the low bushes and hedges, peering down the the rows of carefully cultivated daisies and roses separated by decorative hostas. While he shouldn’t have been able to see much of anything at all this time of night, the whole garden was lit up in the soft blue glow of moonflowers scattered throughout the otherwise picture perfect rows. One of those mysterious flowers, however, certainly would not be thriving in between the stone steps. Taking the shovel out of the small bag at his side, he carefully uprooted the small pale flower and carried it over to one of the hosta patches.

“You know, it’s never going to bloom as brightly as the others,” a strange female voice echoed, bouncing off the walls and ringing deep within his skull. “It’s already so much smaller and so sickly. Honestly, it would make better fertilizer than anything else at this point.” The young man shivered, nearly dropping the plant in his hands. He didn’t have to turn around to know there was someone standing right behind him. But he kept digging.

“Maybe, but it’s not the flower’s fault the seed decided to land where it did,” he replied, placing the roots into the damp soil and piling the excess around the base. “Better soil, more light and water, and a little helping hand can make all the difference.” He delicately touched the petals of the pale flower, watching as the stem and leaves perked up, reaching for the skies above until it towered over the resting hostas and shone with a brilliant blue light.

“Oh great, another one with needlessly flowery language, exactly what I needed at this exact moment in time and space,” the woman grumbled. He could feel her eyes on him, gazing over his sweater vest and collared shirt, or rather, maybe it was more accurate to say he could feel her gazing through him instead. She made a small click with her tongue; he didn’t need to see the smirk splitting her face. “Well well well, this is going to be a bit of a problem, now isn’t it?”

“I’m sorry, ma’am is something wrong?” he slowly asked, carefully standing up and brushing the dirt off of his trousers. He caught a glimpse of a transparent red dress and delicate black heels, still trying to keep his eyes on anything else but the woman. Steady now. Don’t be rash. Play it safe.

“You know, I was going to reassure you and say ‘no, everything’s fine’, but you’re kind of missing a soul there, bud,” she replied, Her gaze moving towards his hair, colored not unlike the very bricks that he just passed by. “And that’s kind of important in the grand scheme of things, you know?”

“Is it though?” the young man asked with a chuckle.

“I mean, if we want this conversation to continue in a more…civil manner, I kind of need a soul,” she replied. A strange yellow light fell to his sides, light that was slowly fading into a deep orange. Before long, the stones were bathed in an eerie blood red. Well. This was…not exactly going how he’d imagined an encounter with the literal incarnation of death and murder would, but all things considered, it wasn’t as bad as he expected it to be. He was still alive; he honestly didn’t think he’d get that far.

“Does it have to be my soul?” he asked, slowly reaching into his bag and pulling out a tightly sealed glass jar. There was a small glowing ball inside, surrounded by ethereal ribbons of colored light and giving off a comforting amount of heat even through the thick glass. Taking in a sharp breath, he whipped around and held out the jar in front of his face. Standing there was a woman he had several inches on, her hair the color of early morning sunlight and her ears ending in dainty tips. A small black star rested on her collarbone, visible through the sheer mesh at the top of her dress. There was a curious smile on her face.

“So you’re a clever one then? You’ve got moxie. I’ll give you that,” she said with a raised eyebrow, reaching out one of her stained hands and pushing the jar down until he was forced to look her in the eyes. “So, what’s your name, kid?”

“Uh…call me…Cole Hector,” he slowly replied. He blinked a few times, wondering if what he was seeing was real. If anything he was seeing was real.

“Cute nickname, almost believable too,” she said with a cackle that made the hairs on his arms stand on end. “And you know about the name rules too, this is just getting better and better.” The smile turned into a wicked smirk. “Okay, smart guy…what’s your story?”

“You tell me. That’s kind what you do, after all,” he replied, returning with a weak smile of his own. He glanced down at the small wisp in his hands, holding the jar more tightly to his chest.

“You’re right, I could tell you about your missing parents. Or your fight to put food on the table. Or your poor sickly sister. Or that right now, you’re about as alone in this world as anyone could possibly be because that little soul in your hands probably could’ve saved her life, but no, she decided to be a martyr and give it to her dearest brother who she loved more than life itself. But that’s just the boring facts that no one really pays attention to anyways,” she said with a dismissive wave of the hand and a glint in her eyes, her words sharper than any dagger in her arsenal.

“They might be boring facts, but that’s the only life I’ve ever known,” the young man said, gripping the small jar hard enough to turn his fingers white. “And that was her choice. Not mine.”

“A little on the defensive side, are we? Did I hit a sore spot? I’m sorry, that was rude of me,” the woman remarked with what could’ve equally been a sarcastic smirk or a genuine smile. She yawned, clicking her heels and turning her back to him in one smooth movement. “Come, walk with me.”

Nearly tripping over the uneven stones, he followed her down a meandering stone path that took them out of the walled gardens and into the iron wrought fences of the cemetery. The marble tombstones had been eaten away by the acidity of the rain, blacked and barely legible after all of these years. Freshly cut flowers were draped over the granite monuments, some of them clearly cut from the rows they had just been walking while others looked to be brought in from outside. Just like the gardens, the whole plot was lit up by dozens upon dozens of moonflowers. He shifted in his shoes, waiting for her to make another of her witty remarks and just say something, anything. The silence pressed down on his shoulders as if the sky was collapsing.

“Why am I here?” he finally asked, though it came out as more of a distressed sputter.

“Because you bought Old Priestess a bus ticket and she liked you enough to dump you here and send me on what I was pretty sure was a wild goose chase up until about, oh, seven minutes ago,” the woman said, casually inspecting one of the grave markers and tracing the name carved into the worn stone.

“No, why am I here?” he asked, setting down the jar on one of the larger monuments and turning to face her. “The other woman, when I told her about the book and about, well, slight curiosity in finding you, she said that she was…looking for a replacement, someone who could be one of your elite…I think she used the word Followers? And if that’s referring who I’m thinking, then…why me? I’m not one of your cultists, I don’t have anything really special to offer except making flowers bloom, I’m not really one for bloodshed to begin with, I’m…nothing compared to them. Why would you, why would they, need me?”

The woman finished tracing the carved name, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. “Well, you’re right. They don’t need you at all. Their job is to go out into the world and, well, mostly do what they want up until I need them to rally the forces or do something really specific, but between the five of them, they’ve got everything they need to wreak havoc to their heart’s desires,” she said with a smirk. “No, see, honey…I’m the one that needs you.”

“You…what?”

“Tell me, what do you know about my games?”

“Uh…um... there’s usually ten people or more people in a game,” he stammered, ticking off his fingers and trying to keep his voice level. “You have two werewolves, a seer, a witch, a gunslinger, a gardener, and then four regular townsfolk. The werewolves pick a person to die each night, and everyone has to try and figure out who the werewolves are, who’s got the special roles, and who’s just a regular person. The seer can figure out people’s roles, the witch can both save a person and kill a person, and the gunslinger can kill someone if they get killed.”

“What about the gardener?” she asked, plucking one of the moonflowers out of the ground and twirling it between her fingertips.

The young man hesitated for a second. “Well…the gardener doesn’t really…do much of anything from a gameplay standpoint. They just…give people nice things.”

“Alright, now, I want you to to repeat what you just said, but this time, explain what all of those roles do from a storytelling standpoint,” the woman said, picking off the petals one by one and dropping them to the ground.

“Um…well…” he slowly said, tapping a finger against his chin and furrowing his brow. “Obviously the werewolves are the antagonists of the story. Without them, there’s no conflict and there’s really not much of a story to tell at all. They drive the story along by force, but they’re vulnerable because no matter what game they play, they’re always outnumbered. The seer fulfils the opposing role, given they’re the best chance the townsfolk have at surviving, at the risk of being highly exposed should they say anything. They add suspense because everyone knows they’re there; it’s just a matter of when they’re going to play their hand.”

He started pacing in front of the monument, one eye on the glass jar and the other on the woman. “The witch…well, the witch adds variability, excitement. They can save someone and kill someone, and no one knows how either will get used. Maybe they’ll save themselves, maybe they’ll kill someone innocent, maybe they’ll actually get the right person with a lucky guess. Who knows? As for the gunslinger, they’re…I guess they embody a strange sense of justice? While the other townsfolk are defenseless and can only use their words, they can take matters into their own hands if their life is in danger. There’s nothing they can do to save themselves, nothing they can do to right this wrong, but they sure can take someone with them.”

“And the gardener…the gardener.” The young man faltered, his paces slowing to a halt as the gears that had been whirring in his head skidded to an abrupt halt. “Well, the gardener is…well, I’m not really…sure…”

“Wow, you actually just took the time to say all of that. Cut out the overly descriptive narration and I might actually be impressed,” the woman said with a chuckle, letting the stripped moonflower stem fall to the earth. With a small huff, she jumped onto the tombstone and let her legs dangle off the side. “Sit down, won’t you? I want to tell you a story.”

“You still really haven’t answered my questio-”

“SIT.”

The young man immediately grabbed the jar, crossed his legs, and dropped to the grass.

“That’s better,” she said with a smug smile, lightly tapping her heels against the stone. “You know, I’ve been running the games for, let’s say, a really long time. And you know, I really enjoy it. Building up the worlds, crafting scenarios, watching it all unfold and seeing my insufferable meatsacks play around. The thing is, after a while, the games started getting boring, and that’s a problem because boring games don’t make for good stories. And there’s no easy fix to that either. More roles meant there wouldn’t be enough townsfolk, and more people mean the games get kinda messy and then I have to do more work. But a townsfolk who just helped build up the atmosphere and make the games feel a little more real? Now, that I could do.”

She tilted her head to the side and grinned, giving him a glimpse of her pointed fangs. “The problem was that I’m sometimes a little too...how should I say…removed from my players and games and, well, there are some details that a mortal eye is better at picking out,” she continued with a casual hand gesture. “So I went and started looking for another Follower and just so happened to meet a nice young man so full of life and so ready not to die. Was a pilot, good man, kind heart. His plane crashed during a battle and instead of pleading for his life, he only asked for me to end the fighting and save his family.”

She snickered, the sound grating on his ears and making him want to dig his eardrums out of his skull. “Well, naturally I thought his compassion could be useful to me and I made him into my Young Priest,” she said, mindlessly tapping the top of the tombstone. “And he was really good at his job. He could build up worlds and mold personalities like he was playing with clay, and he had this spark he put into the players. He made them remember what it was like to be alive, for the games to have stakes and for life and death to mean something. He gave them back their humanity. He gave them hope. And man did it bring the games back to life.”

“But he ended up being more…human than I thought,” the woman said with a sneer that slowly formed into a sly smile and holding out her hand. “But that’s not important. What is important is right now, my games are about to start back up, and if this is going to be as good of a run as I think it’s going to be, I’m going to need my gardener.”

The young man peered into the woman’s eyes, seeing the red and yellow chaos swirl through her irises. He studied at the delicate soul in his hands, feeling the warmth emitting from something that he had sacrificed everything to obtain. He stared at the moonflowers around the cemetery, following their light to the stars above and found five stars he was sure had not been there before.

He stood up and held out the jar.

With a wave of her hand, it flew out of his hands and settled just under her palms. In one motion, she twisted off the top and touched the soul. He watched as it faded into her skin, the stains on her arms seemingly growing darker, though that could have been a trick of the dimming light. She gazed into his eyes, a sadistic grin splitting her face.

“Your name.”

He told her. And felt himself fall.

“You’ve made the correct choice. Just relax. This won’t take long at all,” She said, drawing a strange symbol with Her finger into the air. His body felt like it was made of lead; he could barely even lift his eyes to watch Her movements. “You’re mine now.”

“C…Captain, may I ask a question?”

“Of course, my sweet.”

“My…job is to give the players their humanity…right? To give them…hope in that desolate place they can never escape. Isn’t that…really cruel?”

The Murder God smiled.

“You’ll make a wonderful Young Priest.”

Blood red light filled his vision. Then a soft blue glow. Then nothing at all.

#fanfiction #internet remix #discord murder party #the followers

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chaoticneutralwriter · 7 years

Text

Herbology 101 | m.yg

Granted, this isn’t the worst thing he’s making you do.

firewitch!yoongi/suga

genre: fluff, comedy and Harry Potter eat your heart out.

word count: 1.7k

A/N: back by popular demands, your adventures with firewitch!yoongi/suga continues.

In relation to this.

It’s settled.

You have never felt more uncomfortable in your life until now.

In fact, you think the word uncomfortable is an understatement to what you’re currently feeling right now. It’s so bad that your body is literally refusing to function and you’re left to sit there as if frozen in time.

“If that’s your impression of a garden gnome then you’re doing a pretty good job.”

Your eyes dart over to the gruff voice halfway across the greenhouse and if looks could kill, you would bury him ten feet under the ground by now. You’re about to retort with a snide comment but immediately stop when a buzzing noise whizz by too close to your ear. The force of your flinch nearly knocks you off your stool as you, instead, let out a squeal of fear.

The corner of Yoongi’s lips twitch into a smirk as he watches you catch yourself and proceed to curl up completely on the seat, hands clutching onto the spray bottle in a death grip.

“Careful, I thought I told you to keep watch so they won’t try to sneak up on you.” He remarks off-handedly, going back to the task at hand.

“I am! Blame those other…. things flying around! Don’t you guys have pest control?!”

“Y/N….” The slight worried change in his tone causes you to put a halt to your bantering and focus your attention to Yoongi who’s eyeing a mass of branches and vines warily. If it weren’t for the given circumstances, you would’ve ignored it because they’re just a bunch of plants. But no, you’re in Harry Potter world and these vines and branches are much more sprightly than they really should be.

“Yah!” You shout before promptly aiming the spray bottle at it’s large body mass. Whatever substance that comes out of it is enough to catch the plant creature’s attention because it whips around to face you, hissing and mouth agape in a poise ready to take a chunk out of you. You don’t hesitate to spray the bottle again, right into it’s open mouth full of sharp thorns and it jerks back almost instantly with another angry hiss. Thankfully, it thinks fighting you isn’t worth it because it retreats completely, slithering away to the outer perimeters of the greenhouse, away from you and Yoongi for now.

“Thank you~” Yoongi’s singsong voice is too cheery for a near life-death experience. Your shoulders are still hunched and stiff as your eyes whip back to the witch who’s casually inspecting granite coloured stones the size of pebbles.

“…What did I get myself into…” You groan out to yourself, feeling an on-coming headache.

“You made a deal with a witch and now you owe the witch a favour.” said witch supplies for you nonchalantly.

You glare at him. “It’s a rhetorical question.” You snip before continuing, “And following you around for an hour as your pack mule, carrying God knows what and occasionally paying for them myself doesn’t count as a favour? I went through a brick wall for you and now you’re making me fend off extremely poisonous plant monsters!”

“Stop whining, you brought this upon yourself.” Yoongi replies as he begins to sort through the pebbles. “Making you go through a brick wall is not the worst thing I can make you do. And,” He adds in quickly just to cut you off from bringing up the massive poisonous plant creature lurking in the greenhouse around you again. “The Venomous Hydra Hedera only gets moody when its ripe with seedlings, which makes getting them a chore and admittedly even dangerous to get on your own, but the bad ones—“

He holds up one of the pebbles that’s completely black in colour, “Are key ingredients to a lot of potions.” If it still wasn’t for the fact that he’s forcing you to be in the same room as said poisonous plant, you would’ve thought that his little impromptu trivia was cute. You can clearly see the delight shining in his eyes when he finds one or two of those bad ‘seedlings’ from the batch he’s sorting through.

“So that’s why you designated me, very unqualified normal human being, to be your literal weed killer.” You deadpan.

“They’re not weeds and you’re not killing them but yes if that’s what your human mind wants to compare it to.” Yoongi sighs as he hauls a case full of soil with the ‘good’ seedlings nestled in it and places them under a heating lamp on a shelf. “But you’re not dead yet are you? Like I said, as long as you did exactly as I say, it’s all good.”

You scoff, uncurling yourself off the stool and stepping down carefully onto the floor. You’re still on high alert, spray bottle at the ready as you eye the pulsating mass of vines and greenery that seems to be lurking anywhere and everywhere you look.

“Are we done here? Can I go home?” You almost plead once you’ve reached within arms length of the witch. Yoongi turns to you with a mild look of confusion. “It’s almost 4AM and I don’t know if witches get tired but lowly humans like me do okay?”

That makes him look down at his watch and lets out a noncommittal, “Ah.” He takes the spray bottle from you and you’d just about die from joy, taking it as a sign that yes he’s letting you go.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

….What?

“I— ….What?” You manage to blubber out. Yoongi blinks before nodding his head as if what he just said wasn’t bizarre at all.

“I said, I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

“N-No no I heard what you said but why? Did I not fulfill my end of the deal?"

“....Ah.” He says in realization, before giving you a wry smile. “Wow you actually thought this was ‘fulfilling your deal’, that’s cute.”

You’re only left to stand there, mouth hanging open in disbelief and astonishment. “What do you mean by that?!”

“Well, when you summoned me, you basically made a blood contract in the process.” Yoongi explains casually as he strides off towards the exit of the greenhouse. You, having no other choice, follow after him as you take in his words and connect the dots. Pricking your finger….

“And since you said so yourself that I get to decide whatever I see fit in terms of fulfilling your end of the deal would be,” He continues, stopping in front of the door but you don’t have to hear him say the rest to know where he’s going with it and it makes you think that maybe it would’ve been better if you’d let that venomous whatever-it’s-called plant eat you when you had the chance. Either Yoongi doesn’t sense that you already know of your imminent demise or he’s having an absolute hoot at making you suffer, he says the words you’re dreading to hear anyways.

“I’ve decided on eternal servitude.”

You want to scream and shout and more importantly, wipe that smug ass grin off his pretty face. You can’t believe this; you’re basically his slave. He gets to boss you around and tell you to do whatever crazy shit he has planned just so that you don’t get turned into a frog! …. You know what, even that sounded a lot better than eternal servitude.

You’re just about to express as much when you see the witch’s face turn stony. It was a split second observation on your part and before you can really ask him what was wrong, you hear a distinct hissing. It happened so fast that you’re left winded and dazed by the end of the whole ordeal.

See, what happened was your brain registered the hissing sound as the poisonous plant monster you’ve been dealing with for the past hour or so, which your brain then equates to as, ‘danger! you should probably move.’ Only problem was was that your body was too slow to catch up to the warning (you blame the fatigue).

Luckily for you, a certain witch had been attentive enough to spot the slithering mass of vines long before it decided to strike. So it was very easy for him to pull you out of harms way and at the same time, dispense whatever substance was in the spray bottle to halt the venomous plant from causing either one of you harm. With its surprise attack foiled, the python-like plant gives one last irritated hiss before turning away, disappearing among the other foliage and greenery.

“Really should get rid of a head or two on that one…. “ Yoongi’s voice comes off as a rumble against your ear and it’s only then that you notice just how strangely warmer one side of your body is (and smells really nice). A furtive glance upwards confirms that ‘out of harms way’ just so happens to be uncomfortably close to Yoongi’s side. He’s staring down at you in return, eyebrows raised and perplexed.

You jump out of his hold so quickly you nearly stumble over your feet. Now everything feels too hot and stifling and the fact that you’re still in a greenhouse doesn’t help. You’re thankful when Yoongi opens the door, letting the much cooler air seep in but you know it does nothing to quell the heat still lingering on your cheeks.

“So, see you tomorrow then?” He repeats, holding the door for you. He doesn’t make to comment on what happened or the state of your flushed face. He doesn’t have to because one look and you can already see the amusement dancing in his eyes and you already know that he knows what answer you’re going to give him; he’s just teasing at this point.

So in a last ditch effort to not giving him the satisfaction, you turn away with a huff and stomp off, not bothering to reply at all. Unfortunately for you, Yoongi doesn’t leave your mind even well after you’ve arrived home and buried in the comforts of your bed.

You can already picture his smug smile even without him being there, which only succeeds at making you more irritated because damn it he still got the last laugh.

He irritates you to no end; from his emotionless, deadpan gaze to the smug grin he has and not to mention how you swear he takes great pleasure in making you suffer.

Which makes it all the more shocking when you find yourself lulling off to sleep by the scent of cinnamon, spices, and burnt out candles.

Plant Lyfe.

#yoongi x reader #suga drabble #yoongi drabbles #bts scenario #bts drabbles #bts scenarios #witch!yoongi #firewitch!yoongi #min yoongi drabble #suga scenario #suga x reader

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gendrie · 7 years

Text

Arya Stark Appreciation Week - Day Seven - (Northern Connection)

"You are Arya of Winterfell, daughter of the north. You told me you could be strong. You have the wolf blood in you." (ACOK)

i know no queen but the queen in the north who’s name is arya stark. its not even close. honestly. arya has the support of the old gods themselves. she is on her own level. i dare say arya has the spirit of the north in her more than any other character.

Back at Winterfell, they had eaten in the Great Hall almost half the time. Her father used to say that a lord needed to eat with his men, if he hoped to keep them. "Know the men who follow you," she heard him tell Robb once, "and let them know you. Don't ask your men to die for a stranger." At Winterfell, he always had an extra seat set at his own table, and every day a different man would be asked to join him. [...] Arya had loved nothing better than to sit at her father's table and listen to them talk. (AGOT)

arya’s first connection to the north is it’s people. she has a strong bond to them from the very beginning. whether its serving girls, maids men at arms, or butcher’s boy. arya openly befriends everyone. she’s, affectionately, know as arya underfoot. arya was close to old nan, hodor, and maester luwin. she remembers them even after she’s fled westeros. she has a beautiful reunion with harwn who was one of her father’s men. arya also encounters the northern amy several times: she helps free them from harrenhal, gives the men at the stoney sept mercy, and fights alongside those at the red wedding. this is one of arya’s most important connections to the north. its not just a land. its a people. and arya is devoted to them.

Needle was Winterfell's grey walls, and the laughter of its people. Needle was the summer snows, Old Nan's stories, the heart tree with its red leaves and scary face, the warm earthy smell of the glass gardens, the sound of the north wind rattling the shutters of her room.(AFFC)

winterfell is the great castle of the north and from her second chapter arya already longs to return there. and her first chapter was in winterfell so that says a lot. the way it smelled and felt and sounded are a part of what makes up arya’s identity. she has the most intense voyage and return story in asoiaf which will make her homecoming all the more special.

When her arm grew weary, she sat with her legs over a high limb to catch her breath in the cool dark air, listening to the squeak of bats as they hunted. Through the leafy canopy she could see the bone-white branches of the heart tree. It looks just like the one in Winterfell from here. If only it had been . . . then when she climbed down she would have been home again, and maybe find her father sitting under the weirwood where he always sat. (ACOK)

the northern religion is nature based. they worship trees. their churches are forests. the heart of the north isn’t in any castle or court. its the wilds. where the heart trees grow, rivers runs, and wolves roam. arya has a serious nature motif in her storyline. she constantly describes the feel of the earth beneath her bare feet, the rain on her face, bark under her hands, the taste of a lake. arya comes alive in the forest. even when she’s in a castle of city. when she falls asleep at night she runs through the trees as a wolf with a great pack at her heels. shes’ associated with trees too. she counts, climbs, and runs through them. gendry calls her a nice oak tree when she wears the acorn dress which represents her own strength of character. it’s a constant aspect of her story.

"You are too young to be burdened with all my cares," he told her, "but you are also a Stark of Winterfell. You know our words." "Winter is coming," Arya whispered. (AGOT)

winter is coming. these words have one simple meaning: death. it comes for everyone in the end. this is the morbid foundation for house stark and the north. death is also key aspect in arya’s storyline. through her journey through the war she's faced with so much death. she ends up in a virtual underworld in braavos. the valyrian words valar morghlis (all men must die) are an interchange phrase with house stark’s motto. they share a meaning. when arya arrives at the house of black and white the kindly man uses a skull glamour to try and frighten her. but arya only kisses the skull and plucks a worm from its eye socket to eat. most people are afraid of death but arya looks the scary, ugly, inevitable truth right in the face.

The memory made Arya smile, and after that the darkness held no more terrors for her. The stableboy was dead, she'd killed him, and if he jumped out at her she'd kill him again. She was going home. Everything would be better once she was home again, safe behind Winterfell's grey granite walls. (AGOT)

since death and darkness are recurring elements for the north the stark crypts are an important place. they’re the roots of house stark and a constant reminder, again, that death awaits everyone. even in the darkest, scariest place of winterfell arya still finds comfort. the crypts are a source of strength and power for her. she remembers them fondly. arya doesn’t shy away from her own inner darkness either. she has done difficult, ugly things. but the north is not a kind, gentle, forgiving land. its hard and cold and has no mercy as ned once told catelyn.

"It's all blizzards and bearskins up there, and the Starks know no music but the howling of wolves." (AGOT)

the northerners are a hard people too. they have to be. their entire lives are dedicated to preparing for winter. because of this they’re not frivolous. the charms of southron life, tourneys, fancy septs, songs, are seen as a waste of time and resources. arya never cared for any of that. elaborate gowns and jewels aren’t for her. she has plain sensible taste. the north will be hit the hardest by winter so its more concerned with food and shelter. arya has a similar mentality. she spends most of her time in rags but thats of no concern. what matters is finding food, safety and security. she has forsaken her mothers gods and their hymns and stained glass too. but her father’s gods still hold her heart.

In the godswood she found her broomstick sword where she had left it, and carried it to the heart tree. There she knelt. Red leaves rustled. Red eyes peered inside her. The eyes of the gods. "Tell me what to do, you gods," she prayed. (ACOK)

arya has a special connection to the old gods of the north. because they actually play an active role in her storyline. theres a great deal of divine intervention to be found. arya believes they wanted her to have needle, the symbol of her identity. she thinks they delivered raff to her in essos. and they literally answer her prayers. which is huge. normally, when characters pray all they get in response is radio silence. but not arya. when she knelt before the heart tree they spoke to her in ned’s voice and reminded her that she is arya of winterfell, daughter of the north, and that she has the wolf blood. they will not tolerate their daughter forgetting herself. the old gods want her to return to winterfell. when she falls asleep a sea away from them in her dreams a tree is watching her run and it calls her name.

These wolves are more than wolves, Robb. You must know that. I think perhaps the gods sent them to us. Your father's gods, the old gods of the north. (ASOS)

another gift the gods gave arya was a direwolf pup. arya has bonded deeply to her wolf, nymeria. even when they’re apart their connection only grows stronger. as does nymeria’s pack. she leads hundreds of wolves. she is the living embodiment of the lone wolf dies but the pack survives. this also drives arya and it is the most northern, wolfish lesson. when winter(TM) comes the only thing that will matter is survival. all of these elements (nature, winter, death, her people, the north) are working together in her arc to this one end. arya understands better than anyone that they need to stick together.

She could smell the candles. The scent was unfamiliar, and she put it down to some queer incense, but as she got deeper into the temple, they seemed to smell of snow and pine needles and hot stew. Good smells, Arya told herself, and felt a little braver. Brave enough to slip Needle back into its sheath. (AFFC)

in braavos no trees grow. it would seem that arya’s gods would be unable to take root there and yet the house of black and white has many similarities to the godswood where arya once prayed with her father. they’re both spiritual places with a dark, spooky, quiet vibe. as soon as arya approaches the temple the doors, one weirwood, remind her of the heart tree with its carved moon face. the weirwoods leaves which are compared to a thousand blood stained hands could not be more appropriate for an ancient league of assassins. the color scheme is red, black and white in both places. each contains a deep black pool. it even smells like winterfell to arya. they are seemingly different gods but theres an undeniable connection.

For a moment Bran thought it was his sister Arya … madly, for he knew his little sister was a thousand leagues away, or dead. And yet there she was, whirling, a scrawny thing, ragged, wild, her hair atangle.

the original people of westeros and the north were the children of the forest. somehow, arya is very connected to them too. it probably has to do with the blood of the first men running through her veins. its that northern magic that has gifted arya will the ability to skinchange. she’s quite good at it despite being untrained. she’s also an excellent climber and swimmer, just like the children were. she’s also called a squirrel and in the giant’s tongue the cotf were known as squirrel people. arya spends a lot of time around some of their most sacred places; high heart and the gods eyes. when we finally see the fabled children of the forest, the very first description we get is a creature bran mistakes for his sister arya.

The old gods of the north must have been guiding her steps. (ACOK)

and thats not all! arya has the stark look. she’s the only one of her siblings. she resembles her aunt lyanna who was a wild northern beauty. she rides “like a northman”. arya meets the ghost of high heart who’s dreams are given to her by the old gods. the phrase “the north remembers” is very applicable to her character. arya never forgets the injustices she witnessed. the north touches every aspect of arya’s story. it’s in her themes and symbols, her lessons and values, her personality and locations. she is truly a daughter of the north.

#canonaryastark #arya stark #asoiaf nonsense #i am actually fucking impressed with myself rn

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racingtoaredlight · 5 years

Text

The degenerate’s guide to college football TV watch ‘em ups, 2019 season, week 2

Now do you want to read about college football or do you want to listen to your wildest fantasy of Jeffrey Epstein conspiracy theories in a podcast format? If you answered “college football” then click to read more! If you want to listen to an incredible podcast that will feed your absolute worst inclinations towards nihilistic disillusionment then click right here! True Anon is really all I’ve ever wanted in a left-leaning shitfest. I cannot recommend it highly enough.

Now for the football. Hell, the CIA is behind this shit, too. The highlight of the week for me is the line on the Bammers game. No way Saban holds up his end of that bargain. Why the fucking hell is there even a line on that shit?

If you’ve read this nonsense before you know the drill. If not, the times are eastern, the schedule is ripped from FBSchedules and the gambling informatics are per Vegas Insider dot com. Degenerate football can alternately mean football that you only pay attention to for purposes of gambling or the low-level, barely FBS, preferably late night types of games that play for stadium crowds in the hundreds and TV audiences in the dozens. It doesn’t have to be college ball, the UFL is my true ideal of football degeneracy. If you gambled on that you are my target audience. Onward and downward we go.

Saturday, September 7

Matchup Time (ET) TV/Mobile

Ohio at Pitt 11:00am ACCN

Wow. What a special game. It’s got a one hour headstart and for what? Goddamn is this trash. Why is ACCN not just an extra ESPN channel? SECN and Longhorn Network are just parts of the ESPN app but ACCNe is just off by itself inaccessible to 90% of the country.

Southern at Memphis 12:00pm WMC-TV / ESPN3

There’s no line on this game so just check on it to see what’s going on with Memphis. They beat their secret rival The Racist South last week but scoring less than 20 is weird for them.

Rutgers at 20 Iowa 12:00pm FS1

This being a conference game is funny. Maryland and Rutgers being in the B1G is funny. And stupid. Mostly stupid. But that’s why it’s funny. Take Iowa even at -19 because it’s Rutgers.

West Virginia at Missouri 12:00pm ESPN2

Speaking of dumb conference stuff, both of these teams belong in the Big 12. That’s the true spirit of college football and it’s completely akilter. Is Mizzourah the good offense out of these two now? Everything is wrong. I wouldn’t touch a 14-point line in either direction here but over 62.5 seems worthwhile.

Vanderbilt at Purdue 12:00pm BTN

These are the same team but one has Rondale Moore. Otherwise there is no difference.

UAB at Akron 12:00pm CBSSN

I don’t like the beloved CBS Sports hosting a MAC team even if they are hosting UAB. Why did the o/u drop from 55 to 46 over the course of the week? That’s odd. I’d have to check with our dear president but I don’t think Ohio is in the path of any hurricanes.

21 Syracuse at Maryland 12:00pm ESPN

From the bottom of my Georgetown-born, VA-burbs raised heart I hate everything about this game. I would love to see Syracuse lose even if it means Maryland winning. The odds have flipped crazily from opening Syracuse -5 to now having Maryland -1.5. Take the turtles.

Army at 7 Michigan 12:00pm FOX

I saw ESPN talking up Army last night so go all in on Michigan to beat the ever-living piss out of the troops. -22.5 is nothing.

Bowling Green at Kansas State 12:00pm FSN

Good lord, no.

Charleston Sou. at South Carolina 12:00pm SECN

This is cancelled, right? If not pound the under.

Cincinnati at 5 Ohio State 12:00pm ABC

Cincinnati sucks but count on Fickell to make an Ohio State University look bad one more time. Bearcats +16, book it.

Kennesaw State at Kent State 12:00pm ESPN3

I think Kennesaw is the Welsh version of the British Kent. I could be wrong about that but who cares?

Old Dominion at Virginia Tech 12:00pm ESPNU

VPISU should be better by now. I’m wrong a lot but it’s possible I was really wrong about Justin Fuente. Betting on ODU sounds like a bad idea but I fully endorse it.

Western Carolina at NC State 12:30pm RSN

There is no reason to bet on a game like this. This is practice.

NIU at 13 Utah 1:00pm Pac-12N

I could be wrong but off the top of my head I don’t think Utah usually covers in the first four weeks of the season. This is a guess you can use in your gambling.

Fordham at Ball State 2:00pm ESPN3

Blocks of Granite for the win. Book it.

USF at Georgia Tech 2:00pm ACCN

By my count Georgia Tech covered last week against Clemson. USF just hung out in a trash can for 60 minutes. Yet the Bulls are favored here. Charlie Strong was once a hot commodity that programs all over the country coveted. Hindsight is absolutely hilarious.

Tennessee Tech at Miami (Ohio) 2:30pm ESPN+

There’s no line but I’m loading up the wagon for the Golden Eagles. This is the big auto mechanics school, right?

Southern Illinois at UMass 3:30pm FloSports / NESNplus

I, uh, guess, uh... Don’t watch this under any circumstances. Pack a cyanide pill if you must.

Southern Miss at Mississippi State 3:30pm ESPNU

This is an appealing bit of misery but there’s no chance I watch it. Miss State -16.5 seems crazy against anybody. I think.

12 Texas A&M at 1 Clemson 3:30pm ABC

This is statistically expected to be Clemson’s toughest game and they’re still favored by 16.5. The money looks to be going towards aTm but I can’t shake the notion that Clemson is going to absolutely maul them from the get go.

Central Michigan at 17 Wisconsin 3:30pm BTN

I don’t trust Nick Saban to do what’s right by gambling folk but Wisconsin is different. If they don’t humiliate undermanned opponents that means they are a bad team. -35 is the kind of line you see when the Badgers go for 80+.

Charlotte at Appalachian State 3:30pm ESPN+

You’re on your own with this one.

Eastern Illinois at Indiana 3:30pm BTN

See: Charlotte at Appalachian State.

Grambling State at Louisiana Tech 3:30pm NFLN

Is there a way to make a throwback game between Doug Williams and Terry Bradshaw take place here?

Illinois at UConn 3:30pm CBSSN

Oh, come the fuck on.

25 Nebraska at Colorado 3:30pm FOX

The two Big 8 programs that benefited most from 5th downs are facing off on national TV representing the B1G and Pac-12. That’s horrible. Nebraska being a top 25 team but also being favored by only -4 against this version of Colorado is what is known as a paradox.

Richmond at Boston College 3:30pm ACCNE xtra

No line. What cowardice.

Murray State at 3 Georgia 4:00pm ESPN2

Pound the under.

UTSA at Baylor 4:00pm FSN

Go UTSA. We’re all rooting for you.

Western Illinois at Colorado State 4:00pm ATTSN

Man, this is all trash. Not even the good kind.

New Mexico State at 2 Alabama 4:00pm SECN

The predicted score by way of gambling is Bama 60, NMSU 5. Saban is pulling his starters in the second quarter, though, so put a buck or two on New Mexico State just for the hell of it.

San Diego State at UCLA 4:15pm Pac-12N

This is Pac-12 After Dark/CBS Sports fodder playing in the sunlight. Both teams might explode, literally.

Northern Colorado at 22 Washington State 5:00pm Pac-12WA

Pac-12 Washington? That’s a channel? Washington State lookd good in week 1 so hit the over (63) and see what happens.

ULM at Florida State 5:00pm ACCN

Oh, Willie. Poor, poor Willie. Why, Willie, why? Monroe +22 looks pretty good to me.

Gardner-Webb at East Carolina 6:00pm ESPN3

Yeah, buddy, now we’re into it. If this game happens. I think it’s not happening. But if it does? Man, oh, man. You know what I mean.

Maine at Georgia Southern 6:00pm ESPN+

Why would you think Eagles could beat Black Bears? That’s crazy.

North Carolina A&T at Duke 6:00pm ACCNE xtra

Let’s go A&T, beat the devil.

South Dakota at 4 Oklahoma 7:00pm FS PPV

What lunatics are paying for this? You should feel ashamed.

Jackson State at South Alabama 7:00pm ESPN+

Lots of bodybag games, even at the lower levels. I hate it.

Wyoming at Texas State 7:00pm ESPN+

Kind of beautiful but you’ll probably have to squint to see it.

WKU at FIU 7:00pm ESPN+

Get your shit together, Butch. Now. Stop embarrassing me.

18 UCF at Florida Atlantic 7:00pm CBSSN

Oh, now this - THIS! is what CBS Sports is great for. What a shitty game that I love like a long lost child.

Tennessee State at Middle Tennessee 7:00pm ESPN3

Too Tall U vs. MTSU is cool in a way but it won’t be a fun thing to watch.

North Texas at SMU 7:00pm ESPN3

Spencer is visiting ms621 and my people are expecting a lot of scoring in this one with the lawyers coming out on top. /suggestive eyebrow raises

McNeese at Oklahoma State 7:00pm ESPN+

Chuba Hubbard should get about 8 touches so watch early if you’re watching at all.

Furman at Georgia State 7:00pm ESPN3

Man, this is a long list of boring crap.

Eastern Kentucky at Louisville 7:00pm ACCNE xtra

Other than the 24 fumbles I thought Louisville looked pretty good last week. Not enough to tune in for a minute of this but maybe they can fine tune some of the difficult football activities like “snapping the football” and “holding the football close to your body” or “handing the ball to the running back” against Eastern Kentucky and then when they pop up against Clemson later on it’ll be worth watching.

Coastal Carolina at Kansas 7:00pm ESPN+

Les Magic: Kansas is favored to start the year 2-0. Not by a lot, mind you.

BYU at Tennessee 7:00pm ESPN

Nobody tell Bergie but I’m rooting for the Mormons here. Gotta go for what makes the most people feel the worst about sports.

Tulane at 10 Auburn 7:30pm ESPN2

Is Auburn rising in the polls enough to make me bet against them at home -17 vs. Tulane? It sure is. Auburn is just as chaotic as LSU but not as funny about it.

UT Martin at 11 Florida 7:30pm ESPNU

Fuck the Gators, man.

Western Michigan at 19 Michigan State 7:30pm BTN

Sparty, too.

Arkansas at Mississippi, Oxford 7:30pm SECN

I am on a descent into hell here.

Buffalo at 15 Penn State 7:30pm FOX

If Notre Dame is next I’m hanging up on this post.

Eastern Michigan at Kentucky 7:30pm SECN Alt.

Whew. Hill people that can only intermittently football. That is a huge relief right now.

Liberty at Louisiana 7:30pm ESPN+

Fuck the Falwells, and not in a good way.

6 LSU at 9 Texas 7:30pm ABC

There is one ironclad rule in college football gambling: never bet on an LSU game. Those who fail to heed this rule will never see longterm winnings. Oddsmakers keep pushing the line towards LSU and I agree wholeheartedly that’s where the expectations should reside but would you be even sort of surprised to see LSU blow this entirely and lose? No, you would not. Neither would I.

Nevada at 16 Oregon 7:30pm Pac-12N

Oregon is favored by 24 and my very cursory impression of these two is that Nevada is a straight up better team than the Ducks. Granted, I’m really bad at this, but that +24 looks like easy money.

Stony Brook at Utah State 7:30pm Facebook

Not even a great QB talent is worth going on facebook.

Miami (FL) at North Carolina 8:00pm ACCN

Pound the damn under. Also, ESPN talking heads are all on the UNC to upset train so put whatever money you have set aside for this contest on the Hurricanes.

Prairie View A&M at Houston 8:00pm ESPN3

That one good recruiting class is mostly a memory for Houston at this point but they’ll still be fun to watch once D’Eriq King and Dana Holgorsen get on the same page.

UTEP at Texas Tech 8:00pm FSN

Wasn’t Texas Tech supposed to run the ball more this year? One week in they’re leading the country in passing. Maybe they ran the ball more and it still wasn’t very much.

Tulsa at San Jose State 9:00pm ESPN3

This is the kind of game that should be played in a prison yard.

Arkansas State at UNLV 10:00pm Facebook

This is the kind of game that shouldn’t be played.

California at 14 Washington 10:30pm FS1

I do believe I’m the span of this game away from getting fully on board with UDub rolling the Pac-12 again. The only team with similar talent, as far as I have seen, is USC. But there are a long list of other issues with USC.

Minnesota at Fresno State 10:30pm CBSSN

This is the kind of stupid game I love but I think I’ll be watching Pennywise the Dancing Clown at this point.

23 Stanford at USC 10:30pm ESPN

USC should just fire Clay Helton now, win or lose.

Northern Arizona at Arizona 10:45pm Pac-12N

It would be very Pac-12 of Arizona to lose this game.

Oregon State at Hawaii 11:59pm Spectrum / Facebook

I guess facebook is there to scoop from the most bootlegged team in college football’s illegal audience but I still hate it. Hawaii playing at home two weeks in a row means pound the over even at 77.5. It’s not like Oregon State plays defense, either.

#saturday post #football #college football #watch em ups #degenerate football #gambling #week 2 #2019 season

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parkiiinson · 7 years

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WHAT IS THE PURPOSE OF CONTOUR ALEXA GOD DAMMIT WHY IS EYELINER NECESSARY WHY DO EYEBROWS NEED TO BE FILLED WHY SO MANY LAYERS OF FACE COLOURED CREAM WHAT IS LIP LINER AND WHY IS IT NECESSARY DO PEOPLE CONTOUR THEIR EARS WHY DO PEOPLE ONSESS OVER THE PERFECT RED LIP ABD SMOKY EYE AND WHY PRAY TELL DO VEINS LOOK GREEN

Prepare yourself, this is long.

1.) Contour: To accentuate your features. You can place a brown color that is a few shades darker than your natural skintone in the hollows of your cheeks, your temples, above your forehead to make your face seem smaller, various places on your nose depending on the look you want - although my nose is impossible to contour I’ve been trying for a year - , the crease of your eyelids (thats just eyeshadow dont worry), and your jawline.

Tips: If you're just starting to wear makeup and want to contour then use a shade that isn’t too dark. It’ll be easier to blend into to your skin. Personally, I don’t use bronzers like a lot of people do (bronzers make you tan) to contour because I don’t like the look. I actually use a gray toned brown, which will make some people shriek but I feel like it looks like more of a natural shadow.

What Do I Use:I use an LA COLORS Brow Palette from ROSS $7???(we’re on a budget okay)

Link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4qsLJArkAe4

2.) Eyeliner: Eyeliner is not necessary. Makeup is not necessary. It’s just hella fun. The usual way to do eyeliner is to make your eyes pop. Like a thin line on the top of your lids, close to your lashline, or tight lining your eyes. (tight lining in putting eyeliner on your lash line. like that thing in movies where they make a weird face and put stuff right on their upper and/or lower lash line.)

Tips: If you have a paler complexion, use brown for a natural look or black for a more prominent look. For deeper skintones, I would recommend dark browns and blacks. If ya feelin’ risky, pop some color on your waterline. I use pink because I have greenish eyes and it makes then more.....there.

What Do I Use?:Essence Super Fine Felt Tip Liner $3 (waterproof formula is bomb af but use powder on oily lids before applying or it will bleed, if you do that it stays all damn day.)

Link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1kg0fWCGBhA

3.) Eyebrows: The trend is to have fuller eyebrows. While I already have full brows, they just kind of.... go everywhere. So I give them a shape. Sometimes it’s a dark and dramatic arch, or sometimes it’s a soft straight brow. Depends on the natural shape of your brows and how you like them.

Tips: Unless you dye your hair black, don’t use black for your brows. I dye my hair the blackest black I can find and I still use a dark gray. For beginners, try a pencil or brow gel first. Brow gels are light mascaras but for your brows. They hold the shape in place, give the hairs color, and/or make ya eyebrows look fuller.

What Do I Use?: Anastasia Beverly Hills Brow Wiz (pencil) in Granite $21NYX Pomade in Black $7

Link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_DoXCvp5a3g

4.) Face-Colored-Cream aka Foundation: This is used to even out your skintone. It comes in several forms: Liquid, Cream (thicker form of liquid, often gives fuller coverage), and Powder. There is also a thing called concealer, which is more pigmented foundation that you can use on places your foundation doesn’t cover. If you wear foundation, then consider one for your skin type. Matte helps oily skin and luminous helps dry skin.

Tips: Have someone else match your foundation/concealer you know has experience with makeup and can help you get the perfect match. I go with friends or a beauty store will always have someone to help you. I haven’t done this in particular, but if you bring foundations you already have or samples to someone working to counter at a beauty store, they will probably help match you. Hopefully.

What Do I Use?:MAC Studio Fix in NC15 $27 (Matte but not matte enough for this oil slick)Maybelline Dream Cushion in Porcelain $13 (Luminous but not dewy)Maybelline Fit Me Matte and Poreless in Porcelain $8 (Matte and actually helps my skin)Maybelline Age Rewind Concealer in Light Pale $6NYX HD Studio Photogenic in 4.5 $7Rimmel Stay Matte Powder $5Cody Airspun in Translucent $5

I HAVE OILY SKIN BTW SO THOSE ARE GOOD FOR OILY SKIN!!!!

Link for Pale Skin: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5v6QdzXg464Link for Medium Skin: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=94efRhR3UCMLink for Deep Skin: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fbX5ETj4sXQ

4.) Lip Liner: Honestly, lip liner just helps map out the shape of your lips so it’s easier to fill them in with lipstick. I use it to slightly overdraw my lips for a fuller affect.

Tips: You don’t have to use this. Just find a shade that matches your lipstick and go. I sometimes use lip liner over my entire lips and put a balm over it. Acts like a stain.

What Do I Use?:Loreal Infalliable line of Lip Liners $3NYX Suede Lip Liners $5

Link for People Who Don’t Have A Deeper Skintone: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AjTrbcjmktwLink for People Who Do I Have Friends Who Try and Come To My White Ass and I’m Like “Uhhhh” : https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_WC_7ekcaSI

5.) Ear Contouring: Is a thing that practically no one does cause it’s literally just concealing the redness in your ears. No clue why they called it contouring. I will not leave a link for this because I think it’s stupid.

6.) A red lip and smokey eye are classics in the beauty community so of course, everyone wants to be good at them. I actually hate red on me so I can’t help you there. Also, I don’t do natural smokey eyes.

Tips: Blend. If you think you’re done, you’re wrong. Keep blending.

Link for Natural Smokey Eye: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d1Td4lMMCiELink for Intense Smokey Eye: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dF_iBT4KgvMLink for Red Lip: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I104Fof_Kwo

7.) Undertones: A good way to understand your skin’s undertones is to look at your wrist and see if your veins are blue, green, or in between. Blue means cool toned, Green means warm toned, in between mean neutral. Having a foundation that matches your undertone really helps it blend into your skin and appear natural and flawless. That method is not always accurate btw, so it’s a good idea to have a professional or ya local trash for beauty help you out.

Links for Pale People: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4ImBGGKazs4Links for Darker People: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5Z_fYGC7uC4

The End

Got anymore Makeup/Skincare questions? Send me stuff! I’ll try!

#makeup #beauty #tips #makeup tips #asks #alexa's makeup asks

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