copper and amber

ararebettyfan  asked:

What happened to Agate's, Amber's and Copper's father? We all know their mom died while giving birth to Amber. But we never get mentioned what happened to their dad. In Glichtale Origins it seems like Copper and Agate raised Amber.

he died… a little bit before the war happened.

—    bold   all   physical   traits   that   apply   to   your   muse.

        tagged by:

        tagging:

eyes (general):     large   /   small   /   narrow   /   sharp   /   squinty   /   round   /   wide-set   /   close-set   /   deep-set   /   sunken   /   bulging   /   protruding   /   wide   /   hooded   /   heavy-lidded   /   bright   /   sparkling   /   glittering   /   flecked   /   dull   /   bleary   /   rheumy   /   cloudy   /   red-rimmed   /   beady   /   bird-like   /   cat-like   /   jewel-like   /   steely   /   hard   /   long lashes   /   sweeping eyelashes   /   thick eyelashes

eyes (color):     chestnut   /   chocolate brown   /   cocoa brown   /   coffee brown   /   mocha   /   mahogany   /   sepia   /   sienna brown   /   mink brown   /   copper   /   amber   /   cognac   /   whiskey   /   brandy   /   honey   /    tawny   /   topaz   /   hazel   /   obsidian   /   onyx   /   coal   /   raven   /   midnight   /   sky blue   /   sunny blue   /   cornflower blue   /   steel blue   /   ice blue   /   arctic blue   /   glacial blue   /   crystal blue   /   cerulean   /   electric blue   /   azure   /   lake blue   /   aquamarine   /   turquoise   /   denim blue   /   slate blue / slate gray   /   storm blue / storm gray   /   silver   /   silver gray   /   chrome   /   platinum   /   pewter   /   smoky gray   /   ash gray   /   concrete gray   /   dove gray   /   shark gray   /   fog gray   /   gunmetal gray   /   olive   /   emerald   /   leaf green   /   moss green

eyebrows:     arched   /   straight   /   plucked   /   sparse   /   trim   /   dark   /   faint   /   thin   /   thick   /   unruly   /   bushy   /   heavy

skin (general):     lined   /   wrinkled   /   seamed   /   leathery   /   sagging   /   drooping   /   loose   /   clear   /   smooth   /   silken   /   satiny   /   dry   /   flaky   /   scaly   /   delicate   /   thin   /   translucent   /   luminescent   /   baby-soft   /   flawless   /   small pores   /   large pores   /   glowing   /   dewy   /   dull   /   velvety   /   fuzzy   /   rough   /   uneven   /   mottled   /   dimpled   /   doughy   /   firm   /   freckled   /   pimply   /   pockmarked   /   blemished   /   pitted   /   scarred   /   bruised   /   veined   /   scratched   /   sunburned   /   weather-beaten   /   raw   /   tattooed

skin (color):     amber   /   bronze   /   cinnamon   /   copper   /   dark brown   /   deep brown   /   ebony   /   honey   /   golden   /   pale   /   pallid   /   pasty   /   fair   /   light   /   cream   /   alabaster   /   ivory   /   bisque   /   milk   /   porcelain   /   chalky   /   sallow   /   olive   /   peach   /   rosy   /   ruddy   /   florid   /   russet   /   tawny   /   fawn

face structure:     square   /   round   /   oblong   /   oval   /   elongated   /   narrow   /   heart-shaped   /   cat-like   /   wolfish   /   high forehead   /   broad forehead   /   prominent brow ridge   /   protruding brow bone   /   sharp cheekbones   /   high cheekbones   /   angular cheekbones   /   hollow cheeks   /   square jaw   /   chiseled   /   sculpted   /   craggy   /   soft   /   jowly   /   jutting chin   /   pointed chin   /   weak chin   /   receding chin   /   double chin   /   cleft chin   /   dimple in chin   /   visible adam’s apple

nose:     snub   /   dainty   /   button   /   turned-up   /   long   /   broad   /   thin   /   straight   /   pointed   /   crooked   /   aquiline   /   roman   /   bulbous   /   flared   /   hawk   /   strong

mouth/lips:     thin   /   narrow   /   full   /   lush   /   cupid’s bow   /   rosebud   /   dry   /   cracked   /   chapped   /   moist   /   glossy   /   straight teeth   /   crooked teeth   /   gap between teeth   /   gleaming white teeth   /   yellowed teeth   /   braces   /   overbite   /   underbite   /   dimples

facial hair:     clean-shaven   /   smooth-shaven   /   beard   /   neckbeard   /   goatee   /   moustache   /   sideburns   /   mutton-chop sideburns   /   stubble   /   a few days’ growth of beard   /   five o’ clock shadow

hair (general):     long   /   short   /   shoulder-length   /   loose   /   limp   /   dull   /   shiny   /   glossy   /   sleek   /   smooth   /   luminous   /   lustrous   /   spiky   /   stringy    /   shaggy   /   tangled   /   messy   /   tousled   /   windblown   /   unkempt   /   straggly   /   neatly combed   /   parted   /   slicked down   /   slicked back   /   cropped   /   clipped   /   buzzed   /   buzz cut   /   curly   /   bushy   /   frizzy   /   wavy   /   straight   /   lanky   /   dry   /   oily   /   greasy   /   layers   /   corkscrews   /   spirals   /   ringlets   /   braids   /   dreadlocks   /   widow’s peak   /   bald   /   shaved   /   comb-over   /  thick   /   luxuriant   /   voluminous   /   full   /   wild   /   untamed   /   bouncy   /   wispy   /   fine   /   thinning

hair (color):     black   /   blue-black   /   jet black   /   raven   /   ebony   /   inky black   /   midnight   /   sable   /   salt and pepper   /   silver   /   silver gray   /   charcoal gray   /   steel gray   /   white   /   snow-white   /   brown   /   brunette   /   chocolate brown   /   coffee brown   /   ash brown   /   brown sugar   /   nut brown   /   caramel   /   tawny brown   /   toffee brown   /   red   /   ginger   /   auburn   /   copper   /   strawberry blonde   /   butterscotch   /   honey   /   wheat   /   blonde   /   golden   /   sandy blond   /   flaxen   /   fair-haired   /   bleached   /   platinum

body type:     tall   /   average height   /   short   /   petite   /   tiny   /   compact   /   big   /   large   /   burly   /   beefy   /   bulky   /   brawny   /   barrel-chested   /   heavy   /   heavy-set   /   fat   /   overweight   /   obese   /   flabby   /   chunky   /   chubby   /   pudgy   /   pot-bellied   /   portly   /   thick   /   stout   /   lush   /   plush   /   full-figured   /   ample   /   rounded   /   voluptuous   /   curvy   /   hourglass   /   plump   /   leggy   /   long-legged   /   gangling   /   lanky   /   coltish   /   lissome   /   willowy   /   lithe   /   lean   /   slim   /   slender   /   trim   /   thin   /   skinny   /   emaciated   /   gaunt   /   bony   /   spare   /   solid   /   stocky   /   wiry   /   rangy   /   sinewy   /   stringy   /   ropy   /   sturdy   /   strapping   /   powerful   /   hulking   /   fit   /   athletic   /   toned   /   muscular   /   chiseled   /   taut   /   ripped   /   herculean   /   broad-shouldered   /   sloping shoulders   /   bowlegged

hands:     delicate   /   small   /   large   /   square   /   sturdy   /   strong   /   smooth   /   rough   /   calloused   /   elegant   /   plump   /   manicured   /   stubby fingers   /   long fingers   /   ragged nails   /   grimy fingernails   /   ink-stained

Changelings

There is a girl, you know.  She’s always been a little distant, a little—well—fae-seeming, but you know she isn’t.  After all, you’ve seen her put her hands on an iron blade, only for a moment, and she was not burned—but she did hesitate before she put her fingers to it.

As far as you know—she’s your best friend’s roommate, so you know her better than most do—she’s never told a lie.  But she’s bend the truth and said such misleading things more times than you can count, and you wonder about her.

You do not ask.  Asking will, if you’re correct, only catch Their attention.  And you do not want that.

She looks at things that aren’t there, more openly than you’ve ever seen anyone else do.  This girl does not hide it—anyone who knows what to look for knows that she can See.  And yet she still has both her eyes.

There is something different about her, and you’ve always wondered what.  She’ll stop in a doorway, her toes just outside the threshold, before seemingly remembering something and stepping through without incident.

This is a girl with long, copper-gold hair and strange amber eyes.  By her mannerisms and, indeed, her appearance, you would call her one of Them—one of the Fair Folk.  But you know that she cannot be, for you yourself have seen her do things that one of Them never could.

She isn’t a music major, but she plays the violin, and she plays music unlike anything you’ve ever heard anyone else play.  It is eerie and entrancing both, but she will not play if she knows that you are listening to her.

One day, on the summer solstice, just before the end of the school year, you watch her walk into an area no one human will go—the swirling mists that sometimes fill it make your eyes feel strange, but you don’t know what you would See if you could.

The next morning, the girl knocks upon your best friend’s door, and your roommate opens it.  The girl is wearing gloves, her iron room key in her hand, and her eyes are blue; around her ears you see an odd flicker that you’ve never seen before.

“Can I come in?” the girl asks.  She has never asked this of you, or of anyone else, before.

“Of course,” your best friend says, not glancing up from her book.

“Thank you,” says the girl, and she steps over the threshold.  She puts her key down on the bed and takes off her gloves, then picks up the key to put it on the bedside table—but when she does that, she hisses softly, and when she sets the key down you can see her fingers are bright red where it burned her.

You do not comment.  Instead, you look away, and pretend that you saw nothing at all.

x

poppunkrock141  asked:

Cami the comment section is a total shitstorm everyone is confused some even think Copper an Agate are Amber’s Mom I’ve tried directing some of them to your tumblr but fffff people

I mean if they don’t want to read the description or pay attention to what was said in Dust that is not my fault

( owo)

Michael & Lia

I just finished reading The Naturals series by Jennifer Lynn Barnes and it was phenomenal. So I obviously needed to make a playlist for (the couple I thought was underrated) Michael and Lia. Their relationship was a tug and pull, fire and gasoline but it was more than that and I put it into songs.

Michael & Lia:  (<– click to listen on Spotify)

1. Copper Kiss - Sälen

2. I Found - Amber Run

3. Cut the Rope - Charlotte OC

4. Bad Reputation - Shawn Mendes

5. Gemini Feed - Banks

6. Dangerously - Charlie Puth

7. Crazy - Melanie Martines (cover)

8. LOST BOY - Troye Sivan

9. Your Girl - Violet Days

10. Rolling Dice - Just A Gent, Ella Vos, & Joey Chavez

4

So, I’ve watched a brand new animation by Camila Cuevas (Glitchtale Origins: Black Beast).
Here’s my review- be careful, it contains some spoilers.

Of course, Camila, NyxTheShield and Strelok (and voice actors of Agate and Amber) have done a great work, even if it is not a full episode. This animation was too unexpected for me as I didn’t expect anything until next year, so I was pretty happy when I visited Camila’s blog and noticed it.
Many of theories turned out to be truthful- I somehow actually knew that Amber was Agate’s and Copper’s sister (even if not their relative), and first part of animation shows us the life of Lightvale family. Their parents had died (I guess), but their life seemed to be happy because of little Amber (she’s so cute and innocent, omg). Amber also is unique- her soul changes its color from green (kindness) to dark blue (integrity). It is clearly something new and makes Glitchtale even more interesting- is she the only one with two traits? Maybe this question will be answered soon.
But because of war, all of this was destroyed. Copper, I think, after Agate’s ‘betrayal’, started holding onto Amber as only relative who was with him. That’s why when Agate came- and demanded him to fight her, she ‘threatened’ to kill Amber so Copper would start fighting. Agate is really, really evil, and the saddest moments in animation are the last- she kills Copper, she kills poor Amber and makes her a host for Bete Noire. It’s hard to believe that earlier, she was a caring sibling and led a happy life.
War really destroys lifes. And changes people,to the point they can stop being themselves.
I’m really excited because of this animation. Thanks for creating art!

The dress was a trifle...

lower-cut than necessary, and a bit tight in the bosom, but on the whole, not a bad fit.

“And how did you know Daphne would be the right size?” I asked, spooning up my soup. “I said I didna bed wi’ the lasses,” Jamie replied circumspectly. “I never said I didna look at them.” He blinked at me like a large red owl—some congenital tic made him incapable of closing one eye in a wink—and I laughed. “That gown becomes ye a good deal more than it did Daphne, though.”

He cast a glance of general approval at my bosom and waved at a servingmaid carrying a platter of fresh bannocks. Moubray’s tavern was doing a thriving dinner business. Several cuts above the snug, smoky atmosphere to be found in The World’s End and similar serious drinking establishments, Moubray’s was a large and elegant place, with an outside stair that ran up to the second floor, where a commodious dining room accommodated the appetites of Edinburgh’s prosperous tradesmen and public officials.

“Who are you at the moment?” I asked. “I heard Madame Jeanne call you ‘Monsieur Fraser’—are you Fraser in public, though?” He shook his head and broke a bannock into his soup bowl. “No, at the moment, I’m Sawney Malcolm, Printer and Publisher.”

“Sawney? That’s a nickname for Alexander, is it? I should have thought ‘Sandy’ was more like it, especially considering your hair.” Not that his hair was sandy-colored in the least, I reflected, looking at it. It was like Bree’s hair—very thick, with a slight wave to it, and all the colors of red and gold mixed; copper and cinnamon, auburn and amber, red and roan and rufous, all mingled together. I felt a sudden wave of longing for Bree; at the same time, I longed to untie Jamie’s hair from its formal plait and run my hands up under it, to feel the solid curve of his skull, and the soft strands tangled in my fingers. I could still recall the tickle of it, spilling loose and rich across my breasts in the morning light.

My breath coming a little short, I bent my head to my oyster stew. Jamie appeared not to have noticed; he added a large pat of butter to his bowl, shaking his head as he did so. “Sawney’s what they say in the Highlands,” he informed me. “And in the Isles, too. Sandy’s more what ye’d hear in the Lowlands—or from an ignorant Sassenach.”

He lifted one eyebrow at me, smiling, and raised a spoonful of the rich, fragrant stew to his mouth. “All right,” I said. “I suppose more to the point, though—who am I?” He had noticed, after all. I felt one large foot nudge mine, and he smiled at me over the rim of his cup. “You’re my wife, Sassenach,” he said gruffly. “Always. No matter who I may be—you’re my wife.”

Originally posted by jemscorner

I could feel the flush of pleasure rise in my face, and see the memories of the night before reflected in his own. The tips of his ears were faintly pink.

“You don’t suppose there’s too much pepper in this stew?” I asked, swallowing another spoonful. “Are you sure, Jamie?” “Aye,” he said. “Aye, I’m sure,” he amended, “and no, the pepper’s fine. I like a wee bit of pepper.” The foot moved slightly against mine, the toe of his shoe barely brushing my ankle.

“So I’m Mrs. Malcolm,” I said, trying out the name on my tongue. The mere fact of saying “Mrs.” gave me an absurd little thrill, like a new bride. Involuntarily, I glanced down at the silver ring on my right fourth finger. Jamie caught the glance, and raised his cup to me. “To Mrs. Malcolm,” he said softly, and the breathless feeling came back.

He set down the cup and took my hand; his own was big and so warm that a general feeling of glowing heat spread rapidly through my fingers. I could feel the silver ring, separate from my flesh, its metal heated by his touch.

“To have and to hold,” he said, smiling. “From this day forward,” I said, not caring in the least that we were attracting interested glances from the other diners.

Jamie bent his head and pressed his lips against the back of my hand, an action that turned the interested glances into frank stares. A clergyman was seated across the room; he glared at us and said something to his companions, who turned round to stare. One was a small, elderly man; the other, I was surprised to see, was Mr. Wallace, my companion from the Inverness coach.

“There are private rooms upstairs,” Jamie murmured, blue eyes dancing over my knuckles, and I lost interest in Mr. Wallace.

“How interesting,” I said. “You haven’t finished your stew.” “Damn the stew.”

“Here comes the servingmaid with the ale.” “Devil take her.”

Sharp white teeth closed gently on my knuckle, making me jerk slightly in my seat.

“People are watching you.” “Let them, and I trust they’ve a fine day for it.”

His tongue flicked gently between my fingers.

“There’s a man in a green coat coming this way.”

“To hell—” Jamie began, when the shadow of the visitor fell upon the table.

“A good day to you, Mr. Malcolm,” said the visitor, bowing politely. “I trust I do not intrude?”

“You do,” said Jamie, straightening up but keeping his grip on my hand. He turned a cool gaze on the newcomer…

mya-arts  asked:

I remember that Copper, Agate and Amber are all stones. So I researched and found out this: (DETERMINATION) Copper means a Conduct Energy/ Mineral of Energy and Mental Agility.(BRAVERY) Agate has Properties which are: Balancing Yin/Yang energy ,Courage, Protection, Healing and Calming. (???) Amber helps to Balance Emotions, clear the mind and Release Negative energy. It also Eases Stress by clearing PHOBIAS and FEARS. This one seems to be the opposite of Betty.. hmm is this Revelant Cami? 🤔

Oh! that is very interesting! How curious

The Very Definition of Bliss - stage by stage

The image that was an irresistible siren call to this artist…

Starting with Claire…

Both outlines done ( including correcting the angle of Claire’s mouth and jaw)

After a little more tweaking, begin the process of adding the colour, and I suddenly realise what I have let myself in for with that hat 😱😱😱 (immediately hate all straw headwear with a passion)

Hours later, I finish the hat (with a real sense of satisfaction but also #neveragain) So then on to lips and hair, and putting in the detail around her eye

Finally start on Jamie, but begin with the easier section - his vest and neck! ( I need a respite after that hat)

But the inevitable can’t be avoided altogether. So screwing my courage to the sticking place, I get underway with the play of light and shadow on Jamie’s face. Halfway through, it appears as if Jamie has an unfortunate skin condition - It’s these moments actually, where you have to trust yourself, and have the courage of your convictions, or in my case, coloured pencils, that in the end it will all look ok.

Having filled in the majority of his face, the light and shadows already look more natural - to my relief! So it’s just his hair to go…and Claire’s hand.

Nearly there! Again desperately trying to catch the way the sunlight falls on his hair, and also bring in all those wonderful colours: cinnamon, auburn, amber, copper and a touch of roan at the sides. And not forgetting the detail of his eyes, ( and the wee crinkles at the side) and attempting to capture the intensity of the connection between them.

And there you have it! The Very Definiton of Bliss is at last complete ( and I had that title in my head from the very beginning, because JUST. LOOK. AT. THEM 😍) 

Thank you everyone for all your lovely comments, and here’s the bonus B&W image ( which does indeed magnify the light/shadow play)

The dress was a trifle lower-cut than necessary, and a bit tight in the bosom, but on the whole, not a bad fit.

“And how did you know Daphne would be the right size?” I asked, spooning up my soup. 

“I said I didna bed wi’ the lasses,” Jamie replied circumspectly. “I never said I didna look at them.” He blinked at me like a large red owl—some congenital tic made him incapable of closing one eye in a wink—and I laughed. 

“That gown becomes ye a good deal more than it did Daphne, though.” He cast a glance of general approval at my bosom and waved at a servingmaid carrying a platter of fresh bannocks. 

Moubray’s tavern was doing a thriving dinner business. Several cuts above the snug, smoky atmosphere to be found in The World’s End and similar serious drinking establishments, Moubray’s was a large and elegant place, with an outside stair that ran up to the second floor, where a commodious dining room accommodated the appetites of Edinburgh’s prosperous tradesmen and public officials. 

“Who are you at the moment?” I asked. “I heard Madame Jeanne call you ‘Monsieur Fraser’—are you Fraser in public, though?” 

He shook his head and broke a bannock into his soup bowl. “No, at the moment, I’m Sawney Malcolm, Printer and Publisher.” 

“Sawney? That’s a nickname for Alexander, is it? I should have thought ‘Sandy’ was more like it, especially considering your hair.” Not that his hair was sandy-colored in the least, I reflected, looking at it. It was like Bree’s hair—very thick, with a slight wave to it, and all the colors of red and gold mixed; copper and cinnamon, auburn and amber, red and roan and rufous, all mingled together. 

I felt a sudden wave of longing for Bree; at the same time, I longed to untie Jamie’s hair from its formal plait and run my hands up under it, to feel the solid curve of his skull, and the soft strands tangled in my fingers. I could still recall the tickle of it, spilling loose and rich across my breasts in the morning light. 

My breath coming a little short, I bent my head to my oyster stew. 

Jamie appeared not to have noticed; he added a large pat of butter to his bowl, shaking his head as he did so. 

“Sawney’s what they say in the Highlands,” he informed me. “And in the Isles, too. Sandy’s more what ye’d hear in the Lowlands—or from an ignorant Sassenach.” He lifted one eyebrow at me, smiling, and raised a spoonful of the rich, fragrant stew to his mouth. 

“All right,” I said. “I suppose more to the point, though—who am I?” 

He had noticed, after all. I felt one large foot nudge mine, and he smiled at me over the rim of his cup. 

“You’re my wife, Sassenach,” he said gruffly. “Always. No matter who I may be—you’re my wife.” 

I could feel the flush of pleasure rise in my face, and see the memories of the night before reflected in his own. The tips of his ears were faintly pink. 

“You don’t suppose there’s too much pepper in this stew?” I asked, swallowing another spoonful. “Are you sure, Jamie?” 

“Aye,” he said. “Aye, I’m sure,” he amended, “and no, the pepper’s fine. I like a wee bit of pepper.” The foot moved slightly against mine, the toe of his shoe barely brushing my ankle. 

“So I’m Mrs. Malcolm,” I said, trying out the name on my tongue. The mere fact of saying “Mrs.” gave me an absurd little thrill, like a new bride. Involuntarily, I glanced down at the silver ring on my right fourth finger. 

Jamie caught the glance, and raised his cup to me. 

“To Mrs. Malcolm,” he said softly, and the breathless feeling came back. 

He set down the cup and took my hand; his own was big and so warm that a general feeling of glowing heat spread rapidly through my fingers. I could feel the silver ring, separate from my flesh, its metal heated by his touch. 

“To have and to hold,” he said, smiling. 

“From this day forward,” I said, not caring in the least that we were attracting interested glances from the other diners. 

Jamie bent his head and pressed his lips against the back of my hand, an action that turned the interested glances into frank stares. A clergyman was seated across the room; he glared at us and said something to his companions, who turned round to stare. One was a small, elderly man; the other, I was surprised to see, was Mr. Wallace, my companion from the Inverness coach. 

“There are private rooms upstairs,” Jamie murmured, blue eyes dancing over my knuckles, and I lost interest in Mr. Wallace. 

“How interesting,” I said. “You haven’t finished your stew.” 

“Damn the stew.” 

“Here comes the servingmaid with the ale.” 

“Devil take her.” Sharp white teeth closed gently on my knuckle, making me jerk slightly in my seat. 

“People are watching you.” 

“Let them, and I trust they’ve a fine day for it.” 

His tongue flicked gently between my fingers. 

“There’s a man in a green coat coming this way.” 

“To hell—” Jamie began, when the shadow of the visitor fell upon the table. 

“A good day to you, Mr. Malcolm,” said the visitor, bowing politely. “I trust I do not intrude?”

-Voyager

PHYSICAL TRAITS MEME

—    bold   all   physical   traits   that   apply   to   your   muse. 

                                                    Cyril Stacy


eyes (general):    large   /   small   /   narrow   /   sharp   /   squinty   /   round   /   wide-set   /   close-set   /   deep-set  /   sunken   /   bulging   /   protruding   /   wide   /   hooded   /   heavy-lidded   /   bright  /  feverish  /  sparkling   /   glittering   /   flecked   /   dull   /   bleary   /   rheumy   /   cloudy   /   red-rimmed   /   beady   /   bird-like  /   cat-like (hurr)   /   jewel-like   /   steely   /   hard   /   long lashes   /   sweeping eyelashes   /   thick eyelashes

eyes (color):     chestnut   /   chocolate brown  /   cocoa brown   /   coffee brown   /   mocha   /   mahogany   /   sepia   /   sienna brown   /   mink brown   /   copper   /   amber (gold)   /   cognac   /  whiskey   /   brandy   /   honey   /    tawny   /   topaz   /   hazel   /   obsidian   /   onyx   /   coal   /   raven   /   midnight   /   sky blue   /   sunny blue   /   cornflower blue   /   steel blue   /   ice blue   /   arctic blue   /   glacial blue   /   crystal blue   /   cerulean   /   electric blue   /   azure   /   lake blue   /   aquamarine   /   turquoise   /   denim blue   /   slate blue   /   slate gray   /   storm blue   /   amethyst  /   storm gray   /   silver   /   silver gray   /   chrome   /   platinum   /  white /  pewter   /   smoky gray   /   ash gray   /   concrete gray   /   dove gray   /   shark gray   /   fog gray   /   gunmetal gray   /   olive   /   emerald  /   peridot  /   a loud green  /  leaf green   /   moss green   /   soft pink   /   seafoam   /  damaged (white/blood flecked)

eyebrows: arched   /   straight   /   plucked  /   sparse   /   trim   /   dark   /   faint   /   thin   / thick   /   unruly   /   bushy   /   heavy

skin (general): lined /   wrinkled  /   seamed   /   leathery   /   sagging   /   drooping   /   loose   /  clear  /   smooth   /   silken   /   satiny   /   fine-grained   /  dry  /   flaky   /   partially scaly   /  delicate   /   thin   /   translucent   /   luminescent   /   baby-soft    /   small pores   /   large pores   /   glowing   /   dewy   /   dull   /   velvety /   fuzzy   /   rough   /   farmer’s tan   /   mottled   /   dimpled   /   doughy   /   firm   /   freckled   /   pimply   /   pockmarked   /   blemished   /   pitted   /   scarred  /   bruised   /   veined   /   scratched   /   sunburned   /  weather-beaten   /   raw   /   tattooed

skin (color):     amber   /   bronze   /   cinnamon   /   copper   /   brown  /  dark brown   /   deep brown   /   ebony   /  dark honey   /   golden   /   pale   /   pallid   /   pasty   /   fair   /   light   /   cream   /  alabaster   /   ivory   /   bisque   /   milk   /   porcelain   /   chalky   /   sallow   /   olive   /   peach   /   rosy   /   ruddy   /   florid   /   russet   /  tawny   /   fawn   /   dark blue /  blueish-grey

face structure:     square   /   round   /   oblong   /   oval   /   elongated   /  narrow /   heart-shaped   /   cat-like   /   wolfish   /   high forehead  /   broad forehead   /   prominent brow ridge   /   protruding brow bone   /   sharp cheekbones   /   high cheekbones   /  angular cheekbones   /   hollow cheeks   /   square jaw  /   chiseled   /   severe  /   craggy  /   soft  /   jowly   /   jutting chin   /  pointed chin /   weak chin   /   receding chin   /   double chin   /   cleft chin   /   dimple in chin   /   visible adam’s apple

nose:  snub /   dainty   /   button   /   turned-up   /   long  /   broad   /   thin   / straight   /  pointed   /   crooked   /   aquiline   /   roman   /   bulbous   /   flared   /   hawk   /   strong  / sharp

mouth/lips: thin /   narrow   /   full /   lush   /   cupid’s bow /   wide   /   rosebud   /   dry   /   cracked   /   chapped    /   moist   /   glossy   /   straight teeth   /  crooked lower teeth   /   gap between teeth   /   white teeth /   yellowed teeth   /   braces   /   overbite   /   underbite   /  dimples   

facial hair: clean-shaven   /   smooth-shaven  /   beard   /   neckbeard   /   goatee   /  moustache   /   sideburns   /   mutton-chop sideburns   /   stubble /   a few days’ growth of beard   /   five o’ clock shadow 

hair (general): long   /   short  /   shoulder-length   /   loose   /   limp   /   dull   /   shiny   /  glossy /   sleek  /   smooth /   luminous  /   lustrous  /   spiky /   stringy    /   shaggy   /   tangled   /   messy    /   windblown   /   unkempt   /   straggly   /  neatly combed  /   parted   /   slicked down   /   tied back (occasionally)   /  slicked back   /   cropped   /   clipped   /   buzzed (on the sides, fight me SE)  /   buzz cut   /  curly   /   bushy on occasion /  wavy /  straight  /   lanky   /   dry   /   oily   /   greasy   /  layers   /  corkscrews /   spirals   /   ringlets   /   braids   /   dreadlocks   /   widow’s peak   /   bald   /   shaved   /   comb-over   /  thick   /   luxuriant   /   voluminous   /   full   /   wild   /   untamed   /   bouncy   /   fine   /   thinning

hair (color): black   /   blue-black   /   jet black   /   raven   /   ebony   /   inky black   /   midnight   /   sable  /   salt and pepper   /   silver   /   silver gray   /   charcoal gray   /   steel gray   /   white   /   snow-white /   brown   /   brunette   /   chocolate brown   /   coffee brown   /   ash brown   /   brown sugar   /   nut brown   /   caramel  /   tawny brown   /   toffee brown   /   red   /   ginger   /   auburn   /   copper   /   strawberry blonde   /   butterscotch   /   honey   /   wheat   /   blonde   /   golden   /   sandy blond   /   flaxen   /   fair-haired   /   bleached   /  platinum /  TEAL HECK YOU

body type:   too tall  / tall  / average height /   short  /   petite   / fits in a locker  /  compact   /   big   /   large   /   burly   /   beefy   /   bulky   /   brawny   /   barrel-chested   /   heavy   /   heavy-set   /   fat   /   overweight   /   obese   /   flabby   /   chunky   /  getting closer to chubby /   pudgy   /   pot-bellied   /   portly   /   thick   /   stout   /   lush   /   plush   /   full-figured   /   ample   /   rounded   /  voluptuous   /   curvy  /   hourglass   /   plump   /   soft   /   leggy /   long-legged  /  gangling   /   lanky   /   coltish   /   lissome   /   willowy   /   lithe   /   lean   /   slim   /  slender   /   trim  /   thin   /   skinny   /   emaciated   /   gaunt   /   bony   /   spare   /   solid   /   stocky   /   wiry   /   rangy   /   sinewy   /   stringy  /   ropy   /   sturdy   /   strapping   /   powerful   /   hulking   /  fit  /   athletic   /   toned   /   muscular   /   chiseled   /   taut   /   ripped  /   herculean   /  broad-shouldered   /   sloping shoulders  /   bowlegged

hands:     delicate   /   small   /   large   /   square   /   sturdy  /   strong   /   smooth  /   rough  /  calloused   /   elegant   /   plump   /   stubby fingers   /   long fingers   /  crooked   /  gloved   /   ragged nails   /   grimy fingernails   /   ink-stained


Tagged by: @lady-of-crowns

Tagging: @cuffles @mealvaansgate @allag-one @pbnjcakes @fatewalker @ffxivfisticuffs @cero-tia @benanightsong @steppe-shanties @verkoh @theqoipond @eusili-ffxivrp @nati-kun @stellar-detonation @tetragrammatcn @qarajin-borlaaq 

(As always, don’t feel obligated to do the thing, but if you’d like to do it, here is your excuse! ♥)

Part 11: What We Lost in 307

Screw the writers and producers. They are fast losing me with their crappy adaptation. 

——

UP IN FLAMES

The dress was a trifle lower-cut than necessary, and a bit tight in the bosom, but on the whole, not a bad fit.

“And how did you know Daphne would be the right size?” I asked, spooning up my soup.

“I said I didna bed wi’ the lasses,” Jamie replied circumspectly. “I never said I didna look at them.” He blinked at me like a large red owl—some congenital tic made him incapable of closing one eye in a wink—and I laughed.

“That gown becomes ye a good deal more than it did Daphne, though.” He cast a glance of general approval at my bosom and waved at a servingmaid carrying a platter of fresh bannocks.

Moubray’s tavern was doing a thriving dinner business. Several cuts above the snug, smoky atmosphere to be found in The World’s End and similar serious drinking establishments, Moubray’s was a large and elegant place, with an outside stair that ran up to the second floor, where a commodious dining room accommodated the appetites of Edinburgh’s prosperous tradesmen and public officials.

“Who are you at the moment?” I asked. “I heard Madame Jeanne call you ‘Monsieur Fraser’—are you Fraser in public, though?”

He shook his head and broke a bannock into his soup bowl. “No, at the moment, I’m Sawney Malcolm, Printer and Publisher.”

“Sawney? That’s a nickname for Alexander, is it? I should have thought ‘Sandy’ was more like it, especially considering your hair.” Not that his hair was sandy-colored in the least, I reflected, looking at it. It was like Bree’s hair—very thick, with a slight wave to it, and all the colors of red and gold mixed; copper and cinnamon, auburn and amber, red and roan and rufous, all mingled together.

I felt a sudden wave of longing for Bree; at the same time, I longed to untie Jamie’s hair from its formal plait and run my hands up under it, to feel the solid curve of his skull, and the soft strands tangled in my fingers. I could still recall the tickle of it, spilling loose and rich across my br**sts in the morning light.

My breath coming a little short, I bent my head to my oyster stew.

Jamie appeared not to have noticed; he added a large pat of butter to his bowl, shaking his head as he did so.

“Sawney’s what they say in the Highlands,” he informed me. “And in the Isles, too. Sandy’s more what ye’d hear in the Lowlands—or from an ignorant Sassenach.” He lifted one eyebrow at me, smiling, and raised a spoonful of the rich, fragrant stew to his mouth.

“All right,” I said. “I suppose more to the point, though—who am I?”

He had noticed, after all. I felt one large foot nudge mine, and he smiled at me over the rim of his cup.

“You’re my wife, Sassenach,” he said gruffly. “Always. No matter who I may be—you’re my wife.”

I could feel the flush of pleasure rise in my face, and see the memories of the night before reflected in his own. The tips of his ears were faintly pink.

“You don’t suppose there’s too much pepper in this stew?” I asked, swallowing another spoonful. “Are you sure, Jamie?”

“Aye,” he said. “Aye, I’m sure,” he amended, “and no, the pepper’s fine. I like a wee bit of pepper.” The foot moved slightly against mine, the toe of his shoe barely brushing my ankle.

“So I’m Mrs. Malcolm,” I said, trying out the name on my tongue. The mere fact of saying “Mrs.” gave me an absurd little thrill, like a new bride. Involuntarily, I glanced down at the silver ring on my right fourth finger.

Jamie caught the glance, and raised his cup to me.

“To Mrs. Malcolm,” he said softly, and the breathless feeling came back.

He set down the cup and took my hand; his own was big and so warm that a general feeling of glowing heat spread rapidly through my fingers. I could feel the silver ring, separate from my flesh, its metal heated by his touch.

“To have and to hold,” he said, smiling.

“From this day forward,” I said, not caring in the least that we were attracting interested glances from the other diners.

Jamie bent his head and pressed his lips against the back of my hand, an action that turned the interested glances into frank stares. A clergyman was seated across the room; he glared at us and said something to his companions, who turned round to stare. One was a small, elderly man; the other, I was surprised to see, was Mr. Wallace, my companion from the Inverness coach.

“There are private rooms upstairs,” Jamie murmured, blue eyes dancing over my knuckles, and I lost interest in Mr. Wallace.

“How interesting,” I said. “You haven’t finished your stew.”

“Damn the stew.”

“Here comes the servingmaid with the ale.”

“Devil take her.” Sharp white teeth closed gently on my knuckle, making me jerk slightly in my seat.

“People are watching you.”

“Let them, and I trust they’ve a fine day for it.”

His tongue flicked gently between my fingers.

“There’s a man in a green coat coming this way.”

“To hell—” Jamie began, when the shadow of the visitor fell upon the table.

“A good day to you, Mr. Malcolm,” said the visitor, bowing politely. “I trust I do not intrude?”

“You do,” said Jamie, straightening up but keeping his grip on my hand. He turned a cool gaze on the newcomer. “I think I do not know ye, sir?”…..

….He pushed my wineglass toward me. “And now you’re here, Sassenach, I’m convinced of it. Drink up, mo nighean donn, and we’ll go upstairs.”

——-

“Post coitum omne animalium triste est,” I remarked, with my eyes closed.

There was no response from the warm, heavy weight on my chest, save the gentle sigh of his breathing. After a moment, though, I felt a sort of subterranean vibration, which I interpreted as amusement.

“That’s a verra peculiar sentiment, Sassenach,” Jamie said, his voice blurred with drowsiness. “Not your own, I hope?”

“No.” I stroked the damp bright hair back from his forehead, and he turned his face into the curve of my shoulder, with a small contented snuffle.

The private rooms at Moubray’s left a bit to be desired in the way of amorous accommodation. Still, the sofa at least offered a padded horizontal surface, which, if you came right down to it, was all that was necessary. While I had decided that I was not past wanting to commit passionate acts after all, I was still too old to want to commit them on the bare floorboards.

“I don’t know who said it—some ancient philosopher or other. It was quoted in one of my medical textbooks; in the chapter on the human reproductive system.”

The vibration made itself audible as a small chuckle.

“Ye’d seem to have applied yourself to your lessons to good purpose, Sassenach,” he said. His hand passed down my side and wormed its way slowly underneath to cup my bottom. He sighed with contentment, squeezing slightly.

“I canna think when I have felt less triste,” he said.

“Me either,” I said, tracing the whorl of the small cowlick that lifted the hair from the center of his forehead. “That’s what made me think of it—I rather wondered what led the ancient philosopher to that conclusion.”

“I suppose it depends on the sorts of animaliae he’d been fornicating with,” Jamie observed. “Maybe it was just that none o’ them took to him, but he must ha’ tried a fair number, to make such a sweeping statement.”

He held tighter to his anchor as the tide of my laughter bounced him gently up and down.

“Mind ye, dogs sometimes do look a trifle sheepish when they’ve done wi’ mating,” he said.

“Mm. And how do sheep look, then?”

“Aye, well, female sheep just go on lookin’ like sheep—not havin’ a great deal of choice in the matter, ye ken.”

“Oh? And what do the male sheep look like?”

“Oh, they look fair depraved. Let their tongues hang out, drooling, and their eyes roll back, while they make disgusting noises. Like most male animals, aye?” I could feel the curve of his grin against my shoulder. He squeezed again, and I pulled gently on the ear closest to hand.

“I didn’t notice your tongue hanging out.”

“Ye werena noticing; your eyes were closed.”

“I didn’t hear any disgusting noises, either.”

“Well, I couldna just think of any on the spur of the moment,” he admitted. “Perhaps I’ll do better next time.”

We laughed softly together, and then were quiet, listening to each other breathe.

“Jamie,” I said softly at last, smoothing the back of his head, “I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy.”

He rolled to one side, shifting his weight carefully so as not to squash me, and lifted himself to lie face-to-face with me.

“Nor me, my Sassenach,” he said, and kissed me, very lightly, but lingering, so that I had time just to close my lips in a tiny bite on the fullness of his lower lip.

“It’s no just the bedding, ye ken,” he said, drawing back a little at last. His eyes looked down at me, a soft deep blue like the warm tropic sea.

“No,” I said, touching his cheek. “It isn’t.”

“To have ye with me again—to talk wi’ you—to know I can say anything, not guard my words or hide my thoughts—God, Sassenach,” he said, “the Lord knows I am lust-crazed as a lad, and I canna keep my hands from you—or anything else—” he added, wryly, “but I would count that all well lost, had I no more than the pleasure of havin’ ye by me, and to tell ye all my heart.”

“It was lonely without you,” I whispered. “So lonely.”

“And me,” he said. He looked down, long lashes hiding his eyes, and hesitated for a moment.

“I willna say that I have lived a monk,” he said quietly. “When I had to—when I felt that I must or go mad—”

I laid my fingers against his lips, to stop him.

“Neither did I,” I said. “Frank—”

His own hand pressed gently against my mouth. Both dumb, we looked at each other, and I could feel the smile growing behind my hand, and my own under his, to match it. I took my hand away.

“It doesna signify,” he said. He took his hand off my mouth.

“No,” I said. “It doesn’t matter.” I traced the line of his lips with my finger.

“So tell me all your heart,” I said. “If there’s time.”….

Helping Your D-Partner Manage Stress (Pt. 1)

Getting Dex worked up was definitely one of Nursey’s favorite things to do. He was always wound so tight that he seemed a hairsbreadth away from actually combusting when they argued. It was like nature intentionally designed him that way and then made his entire body a warning sign: bright copper hair, bright amber eyes, and a bright tomato-red blush anytime his emotions were above a seven or below a three on a scale from one to ten. Seeing Dex flustered was like an interactive work of performance art, and Nursey honestly couldn’t stand to see such a well designed piece go without an audience.

Seeing Dex worked up constantly and for seemingly no reason, however, was proof that the Devil was real and very much wanted the Samwell Men’s Hockey Team to suffer.

“Dude,” Holster asked, voice pitched low enough to make sure that Dex couldn’t hear him. “How long do you think it’s been since he got, you know, laid?”

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