hobbit make up

In which Lee Kwangsoo sums up a k-pop bias perfectly.


“We had to make Thranduil appear so supreme and really quite cold in his attitude. We decided he was above all hair ornamentation. We wanted him to look completely like he was in control so there was nothing holding his hair back, it never really moved and if it did it was always very controlled as if there was another force looking after his hair for him” - Peter Swords King finally confirming that Thranduil is indeed blessed with perfect hair 24/7

u know all i can think of is when the hobbit movies were first coming out and I saw them in theaters and as soon as Thorin Oakenshield walked into Bilbo Baggin’s fucking hobbit hole I was trash for that ship

rampaging-sock-hobbit  asked:

Would you write a headcannon about Percy and Annabeth's children? Or just Percabeth married life in general?? OH AND CAN CHIRON BABYSIT THE KIDS??? PLEASE THANKS UR AMAZING

i don’t have a clever intro atm but i would like to make it known that im eating freeze-dried strawberries and god damn they are so delicious  - @vivilevone

this has been in Jeannie’s inbox for like twelve thousand years so I’m finally answering it, SOOOOO sorry for the CRAZY delayed response!!! (also, on jeannie’s behalf, thank you!!!! you are also amazing)

  • Annabeth always does the grocery shopping
  • It’s not because she’s the “woman of the house”
    • (if we’re all honest here, Percy is the “woman of the house”, but let’s not get into that) (scratch that we will probably get into that)
  • it’s also not because Percy doesn’t know what to buy
  • it’s just that Percy has no concept of budget
    • “Percy, I sent you out an hour ago to get bread, frozen peas, and some fruits. It’s been three hours and you come back with six bags of stuff and you’re telling me not to check our bank statement?!”
  • they have two children
    • one is younger and her name is Zoe
    • the other is four years older than Zoe and her name is Sally
      • (they were going to call Zoe Bianca, but then Nico made them swear they wouldn’t because he was going to name his daughter Bianca)
  • they’re both girls, which Percy was only disappointed about for 0.1 seconds and then he realized how ADORABLE they were
  • Annabeth teaches him to braid hair and suddenly the girls have been wearing braids for a month
  • the “blue food” tradition is obviously passed down: even from a young age Percy is feeding them blue soda, blue cookies, blue anything he can find
  • Annabeth works more than Percy so she isn’t home quite as much (yes Percy is the stay-at-home-mom I told you so)
    • still, she comes home armed with goodies at least twice a week
    • the people who work at her architecture firm are all very sweet and at least five years older than her
    • when she mentioned she had two little daughters they started offering up their old little-girl stuff
  • I was gonna go with no, Chiron can’t babysit the kids, but what the hell, he babysits their damn kids
    • and they love him SO MUCH. he lets them ride on his back and takes them into the forest (sadly they can’t exactly go into Times Square riding on a half-man, half-horse’s back)
    • Annabeth is adamant about never giving the girls more than a square of ambrosia every week because “they’re TINY and what if they just SPONTANEOUSLY COMBUST?!”
    • but Chiron always sneaks them some
  • Zoe tells Percy, but Percy doesn’t tell Annabeth. Some things are better left a secret.
  • (Annabeth knows. She just doesn’t say anything.)

@michedjohnson mentioned Thorin eating french fries in slow motion in an ask, and I just couldn’t help myself. I tried.

Characters: Thorin, Reader, a plate of french fries.
Setting: Erebor, after BOTFA.
Notes: This takes place a bit after The Long Dark.
Words: 535

Thorin had asked you to share a dish from your childhood. You had vacillated quite a bit before you decided french fries were the simplest to get right. That assessment had turned out to be overly optimistic.

Without access to a deep fryer, getting french fries right had been a challenge, to say the least. You had slaved over those french fries, growing more frustrated with each attempt. Eventually, you had realized that the trick was to place them in cold oil and heat them slowly — easier said than done over an open fire — but not before destroying several batches and nearly getting burned by hot oil.

The fries you presented to Thorin were perfect — firm and thin and nicely golden, sprinkled with tiny flecks of salt.

Now you watched him with trepidation as he picked one up and bit carefully into it. He chewed, made an approving humming sound and then placed the other half into his mouth.


He smiled and took another. “Very nice.”

“Would you tell me if they weren’t?”

The smile grew sheepish. “No.”

“So I don’t know one way or the other, do I?”

“I’m afraid not.” He tugged you into his lap and fed you a fry. “Stop fretting.”

You had tried the fries already but they’d been too hot then. Now they were just right, crunchy and savory and a little sweet. “They’re good!”

“I believe I told you that already,” Thorin said, and nuzzled your neck.

You pushed him away, giggling. “And then you told me I couldn’t trust you!”

“I told you I would always place your feelings before the well-being of my stomach,” he replied diplomatically. “Which I did not need to do just now, because these are indeed very nice.”

He fed you another fry, and then you fed him one. Gradually, the platter emptied. You gave a replete sigh and leaned into Thorin, rubbing your belly. “That was nice. I should go wash the platter though, that fat is hard to get off once it’s dried.”

Thorin caught your wrist and brought your fingers to his mouth. “Stay,” he said, and proceeded to lick the salt off your fingers.

You felt unaccountably warm all of a sudden. “Fries are not generally counted as an erotic food, you know.”

“How fortunate that I do not generally concern myself with the opinions of others,” Thorin said mildly, and sucked your index finger into his mouth. You whimpered.

His lips and tongue were hot against your skin, and you were reminded just how many nerve endings were collected in your hand as he lavished each finger with careful attention. As he finally moved on to lick the seam of your lips, tangling your damp fingers with his, you had been reduced to a boneless heap.

“You mentioned other erotic foods,” he said against your mouth. “What are they?”

You struggled to collect your scattered wits. “Uh… Strawberries. Honey. Wine. The usual.”

“Then I believe I shall have the usual delivered to our chambers this evening. Would you like that?”

You nibbled at his lower lip. “As long as you clean up afterwards.”

He grinned and kissed you deeply. “I believe I shall manage.”