hollow cheeks

8

asoiaf meme (minor characters): 7/9 scenes ~ a dance with dragons, jon i

Jon took a knee. The king frowned at him, and rattled the parchment angrily. “Rise. Tell me, who is Lyanna Mormont?” 

“One of Lady Maege’s daughters, Sire. The youngest. She was named for my lord father’s sister.”

“To curry your lord father’s favor, I don’t doubt. I know how that game is played. How old is this wretched girl child?” 

Jon had to think a moment. “Ten. Or near enough to make no matter. Might I know how she has offended Your Grace?” 

Stannis read from the letter. “Bear Island knows no king but the King in the North, whose name is STARK. A girl of ten, you say, and she presumes to scold her lawful king.” His close-cropped beard lay like a shadow over his hollow cheeks.

DISNEY | Bucky x Reader (Request)

Originally posted by allthisherostuff

Originally posted by heartsnmagic

Masterlist

A/N: Okay so I’ve never actually been to Disney World so I hope this is accurate and cute an fluffy for y’all. Enjoy.


“What do you mean you’ve never been to Disney World?” you turned yourself around on the couch, facing Bucky and inching towards him. You poked the hollow spot in his cheeks “You’re like 100 years old.”

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Always back here - Moriarty x reader

Originally posted by alksontini

AN: I don’t know. It came to my head and I wrote it down, checked it and posted it. No biggie. Hope you guys like it. 

Summary: You and Jim have a big fight. 

Word count: 507

Warnings: None really

“Get out.” You whispered, a tear escaping your eyes and rolling down your cheek; your back to Moriarty so he didn’t notice.

“(Y/n), stop being so ridiculous!” Jim went to step towards you but you turned your head sharply at him. 

“Get. Out.” You repeated. 

“Fine!” Jim threw his hands up in the air before he slammed the door as he left.

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River’s Last Interview by Jean-Paul Chaillet for Premiere, October 1993.

A few days before his death, on October 31, in L.A., the American actor had received “Première” on the filming of his last movie, “Dark Blood”, in Utah. He was 23 years old… 

He was called River. Like a river. Child of a couple of flower children, pure product of the 70es, he loved nature, animals and rock'n'roll. A teenager become a star, in 1986, with Rob Reiner’s “Stand by Me”, he showed his blond hair, hollow cheeks and pale face in half a dozen of striking movies. Nominated at 17 for an Academy Award for “Running on Empty”, by Sidney Lumet, he would be Harrison Ford’s eldest son in Peter Weir’s “Mosquito Coast, then young Harrison Ford in "Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade”, by Steven Spielberg. Ecologist with a mystique, he also liked difficult parts and unsettling movies. Drugged-out, prostitute and homosexual in Gus Van Sant’s “My Own Private Idaho”, he’d then be a hacker in “Sneakers” with Robert Redford. His last movies, Sam Shepard’s “Silent Tongue” and Peter Bogdanovich’s “The thing called love”, are still unreleased. He was set to join Tom Cruise in “Interview with the vampire”. And was achieving, when we met him, south from Salt Lake City, in Utah, an obsessional love story between three characters, with Jonathan Pryce and Judy Davis: “Dark Blood”, directed by George Sluizer. River Phoenix has gone at 23. Foolishly. The 90es lose a good-hearted rebel.

Première: Your movies often contain an important social or political message. Is it a deliberate choice from yours?
River Phoenix: What inspires me first is the quality of the written word and script, and not some strategy. At the time of “Mosquito Coast”, I didn’t choose my parts yet. I went to a casting and I had the chance to join in such a movie. 

Première: Most young actors seem to make more commercial choices than you, is it right?
River Phoenix: Maybe some of my movies would have been successful if I hadn’t played in… These commercial stuff, I consider them as a pollution of mind. I don’t want to contaminate my work or my convictions with things that won’t contribute to my growth or to the development of my art.

Première: Generally, how do you deal with a part?
River Phoenix: Usually, I write the detailed biography of the character. For me it’s the only possible way. To play a sad scene, many will only for example think of their mother’s death. I consider it’s a mistake for an actor to cross the boundary that separates him from his character. Because then you impose him your own references. That’s why I need to have landmarks that only belong to my character. For example, for “My Own Private Idaho” I wrote a lot. And once the movie was done, I burned it all.

Première: Why?
River Phoenix: Everything was on the screen.

Première: Was this also not to use it again?
River Phoenix: That’s right, even if, as an actor, I’m growing richer and learning with each character. And a new character will then be able to raise from this compilation of parts.

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Fic: Thieves’ Tools [Vex, Vax | 7700 words]

(no spoilers; set pre-series)

[AO3 | FFN | More Fic]

Two weeks after they found the ruins of their hometown, when the mire of misery had finally been pushed back by all the practical concerns that came with no reliable source of income, Vex sat down across from her brother, slammed a flawless turquoise gemstone onto the table, and said, “I’d like to hire us for a bit of thievery.”

Thieves’ Tools

Vax stared at her; the artful hollows of his cheeks and bruised darkness beneath his eyes did little to mask his baffled expression. “You’d like to what?”

Vex tapped one quick-bitten nail against the top of the gem, then thought better of it when someone from the next table glanced over. Perfect prop though it was, she let the hunk of turquoise disappear into its usual home in the pouch at her side. “I’d like to hire us to steal something. Wake up, brother. I’ve got us a job.”

In response, Vax made a sound somewhere along the lines of a constipated night-owl and took a long swig of ale from his mug. Vex watched him, waiting patiently, then kicked him under the table when he took a bit too long. He sputtered, swiping at his face with one threadbare sleeve. “Ow. Don’t make me spill, it’s not like we can afford another.”

Unless she was very much mistaken, that was a glint of real annoyance in his voice. Good. “A job, Vax.”

“I heard you the first time. But you giving yourself money isn’t generally how this works.”

“The gem, Vax. I’ll sell the gem.”

It took him a moment. She watched his mind’s clockwork, rusted from a fortnight of inactivity, slowly grind back into motion. His brow furrowed, and she knew she’d finally got his attention when his fingers started tapping nervously against the table’s edge. “You’ve had that gem for ages. You wouldn’t even sell it when Trinket started eating us out of house and home, before he learned to forage for himself.”

Vex was positively itching to pull the turquoise back out of her pouch, but there was no sense drawing unwanted attention. “I said I was saving it up for something important. This is it. I’d like to hire us.”

Scratching at his shoulder, Vax stared up at the ceiling for a moment before looking back to her. His fingers took up their tapping again. “To do what, exactly?”

“To steal.”

He sighed. “To steal what, exactly?”

“Well, that’s part of it.” She leaned across the table, lowered her voice theatrically; in spite of himself, he leaned closer to hear. “I’m paying for secrecy. I can tell you where, and I can tell you when, and I think I can even tell you what to expect in terms of security, though of course I bow to your expertise when it comes to drawing secrets from the seedy underbelly of society.”

His lips twitched. “The seedy underbelly of society?”

“Why not? You’re certainly looking seedy, anyway. When’s the last time you bathed?”

“I’m not the one who spends all her time living with a bear in the woods.” He shifted back in his seat, somehow dodging her next under-table kick. “Listen, Vex'ahlia, I appreciate the thought, but you don’t have to invent an adventure to get me out of wallowing.”

“Ooh. Look who thinks so highly of himself. Believe it or not, brother, this has nothing to do with you. If you won’t take the job, I’ll find someone who will.” And damn it, how much longer would her voice take on that telltale quaver every time she raised it?

Vax curled back a little, rubbing his brow. “You’re serious. Is it dangerous?”

She jutted out her chin, waited until he was looking her in the eyes. “Probably.”

“And you’re going to do it with or without me?”

“Definitely.”

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i. First

this series is going to be told in flashes that will all come together and make sense in the end - however, if you get confused or have any questions, feel free to shoot me an ask :)

IMPORTANT: this series is explicit in drug usage, the consequences of drug usage and also in sexual content. please don’t read if you are uncomfortable with any of these topics. this one is pretty sad, but the next couple will be happier and more ‘bad boy’; I promise.

You watch him suck in, cheeks hollowed and jawline defined as the cigarette takes its place between his pretty pink lips. Your eyes always seem to get stuck on his finger tattoos because the dark ink stands out so prominently against his pale skin and it looks out of place there, there on the inside of his index, or there at the base of his thumb. But then the smoke spills from his mouth and dispels into the chilly morning air and you’re reminded of how fitting those tattoos are.

Shawn ducks his head down and studies the small people 15 floors below. He’s leaning on the balcony railing tiredly as he tries to wake up, and you’re sitting behind him in the cushioned wicker chair, casually sipping the coffee he brewed for you. He didn’t make it right - forgot the sugar - but he tried. He’s always doing that; trying. Trying for you.

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The Other (Bucky x Reader) Part 14

Summary: Being a mutant with abilities is difficult enough, without having all this soulmate business to deal with in addition. Y/N meets hers in the least expectant place, but isn’t necessarily as thrilled as he’d hoped. However, a drastic turn of events require them to go to desperate measures to preserve what little they have.

Chapter List

Masterlist


Part Fourteen

You glanced at the guard, who sloppily unlocked your handcuffs and shoved you in the direction of your visitor. You slowly moved towards him and sat down on the opposite chair, every muscle in your body aching. He looked you up and down, and you realised what a sight you must have been. Hollow cheeks, pale skin, dark circles under your eyes… You must have looked like a walking corpse. You slowly took the receiver and held it to your ear, not once taking your eyes off him. You looked at each other for a few minutes without saying anything, until he cleared his throat.

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry you’re in here.” 

You raised your eyebrows with all the force you could muster, and he rolled his eyes. He leaned in closer to the pane. 

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no, it’s…it’s legit

And here I thought that the video I got spoiled myself in with november and which was 9 hours total for both protagonists was a “speedrun”. I was so young then.

Basically, it’s just… a lot of running and blinking, and the guy clearly knows the layout of all locations very well, allowing to take a lot of shortcuts and avoid as many encounters as possible, but watching all this is honestly so gotdamn uncomfortable given my own love to look into every apartment, find everything and absorb the Aesthetic, everything about this is just…….wrong.

Also this is just plain fuckin cruel, take a pity on this old man’s lungs with all the running, will you

Everlark Advent: Day 18, Candy Cane

Today’s Advent story is in response to the @loveinpanem prompt: candy cane

Candy Cane

rated T



Her cheeks hollow as she sucks and bobs, eyes drifting closed in pleasure. Her nostrils flare just a little as she breathes around her mouthful, and I shudder.

What I wouldn’t give to march across the room and give Katniss Everdeen something thicker to suck on than that candy cane.

As if she senses my thoughts, she glances over at me. It isn’t the first time she’s caught me staring; all I’ve done is stare at her ever since she transferred to Panem High three months ago. But usually I look away quickly.

Today, I can’t.

She holds my gaze, and pulls the candy out from between plush lips, slightly reddened from her treat. With a smirk, she drags her tongue up the cane, achingly slowly, pausing to swirl it around the slightly sharpened tip. I barely bite back a groan. Then she descends again, taking the entire stick into her hot mouth, inch by inch while I watch. I can’t look away, can’t even blink.

The warning bell interrupts my erotic show as people all around us climb out of their chairs, blocking my view.

I close my eyes, try to steady my breathing. I’m so turned on, my cock throbs and strains against my jeans. She has no idea, the effect she has on me. There’s no way I can stand up until I get myself under control.

I’m trying to think about anything that’ll calm me down - algebra, coach Abernathy in the shower - when a shadow passes over me. I glance up and there stands Katniss Everdeen, in all of her black-haired, red-lipped glory. She smirks, and sets a fresh candy cane on the table in front of me, before turning and walking away, her ass swaying sensually.

I’m definitely going to be late for class.


Find all of the Everlark Advent stories here.

Ten things you should know if we date

1) I am 6'3" and that means you need a bigger bed. You won’t fit on mine because I don’t fit on mine.
2) I don’t like love songs, and The Notebook is bullshit.
3) My self esteem is a helium balloon that’s been in the hospital room of my dying convictions for a few days too long.
4) My tinder profile has taught me that pretty girls don’t think I’m pretty but they’ll drink until they don’t care.
5) My waistline waxes and wanes as the taxes of my self disdain start to materialize on a body and mind strained by compulsion and expulsion of meals and the only real friends I have.
6) The hollowed out cheeks from the three pack a week streaks is something that scares me, so I don’t smoke anymore. I don’t smoke any less, either.
7) I haven’t taken my meds in eleven months because the lightning of amphetamines seems like such an extreme just for me to seem normal to you. I’m not normal. And no you can’t buy them.
8) I never learned from my mother or from the embrace of any lover how to paint with all the colors of my own self doubt. A low self esteem collar of sorts for any art that was any thing but gray. So to this day I write about my exes, my vexes, and the Venn diagram that they then form together.
9) There are gonna be days where I want to die. There are gonna be days where I cry and give in to my impulses. There are gonna be days where I fly away from my responsibilities and you. There are gonna be days where the winding ways and haphazard haze of my mind grind away at yours. I have no track record of relationship success, I’m an awkward, broken mess. These days I’m all chewed lips, scars, and stress, and I’ll probably never get over you.
10) I tend to say too much.

Hide makes the mistake of looking down.

Instead of finding relief, he finds torture. Absolute, hellish torture. At least when his eyes were closed he could fight back the urge to come, but now he’s directly at Kaneki, black hair sticking up as if he were electrocuted, cheeks hollowed out and eyes screwed shut. Boquets of red blossom along his cheeks and a loud, wet noise fills the room as he takes more of Hide’s dick into his mouth.

The perfect portrait of innocence destroyed, and Hide kind of hates himself for corrupting the kid. He hates it, but he loves it, seeing his best friend, sucking his cock so far into his mouth that Kaneki’s nose is almost touching his stomach. His hands find purchase in his old friend’s inky hair and a growl rips from his throat when Kaneki swallows around him.

“I’m - Kan-Kaneki, pull away, I’m about to cum -”

Instead of listening, Kaneki keeps his mouth right where he wants it, swallowing around Hide once again and relishing in the deep, rough sounds he makes. He doesn’t stop until a warm liquid coats his tongue and throat, and he swallows every bit he can until Hide has to pull away from the hypersensitivity. 

Taking a moment to catch his breath, Kaneki squeezes Hide’s thigh. He then looks up, mouth dripping with his friend’s cum, and asks innocently,

“Was I good?”

I’ve fought against my face for so long. My round cheeks and lack of hollow cheeks have caused me to go to war with myself for years. When I started working at my new job nearly a year ago my coworkers said I have a cherub face and it’s so cute and perfect, and because of their positive reenforcement of something I’ve hated nearly my entire life I’ve finally started to accept my face for what it is. Honestly, not just accept it but love it. I look in the mirror and smile and my smile makes me smile because I look so happy and healthy and I actually have a glow about me. This probably sounds so stupid but it’s how it is. I used to be terrified to smile, especially with my teeth, because I thought it’d make me look fat but now my smile brings me joy and that’s all I’ve ever wanted.

Nobody (Part 3)


Plot:  Reader has been held prisoner by Hydra and is discovered by Nat and Bucky.  Post CA:CW (Bucky’s on the team, no one hates each other) Slight AU

Warnings: mentions of past torture/imprisonment, language, injury, shooting, violence, deaths….can’t think of anything else.

Words: ~3000 (i got carried away and felt bad for being MIA for so long)

A/N:  Sorry I’ve been gone for a while. Hope this next part makes up for it!  


Reader’s POV

You couldn’t be completely sure given your terrible vision, but the man seemed to be smiling at you which was weird since nobody ever smiled at you.  People snarled, growled, grimaced, hollered, spit, laughed, and sneered at you, but nobody ever smiled at you.  He’s probably not smiling

The man took a step forward, studying your tired, sunken eyes and the bruise patterns which peppered your hollow cheeks. He cleared his throat and spoke in that soft angelic voice again.  “What’s your name?”

Didn’t we just go over this? You couldn’t help the furrow in your brow at these two new guards.  Everything they did was completely backwards.  But it’s best not to argue.

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New Jersey gothic.

1. The man on the country road selling Jersey tomatoes and corn has piercing blue eyes that never blink and a wide toothy grin that doesn’t flinch. He never speaks. You always leave with more in your bag than you remember picking up. If you do not eat them by the stroke of midnight in three days, they putrefy, stinking of rotting flesh.

2. “What exit?” is not just an inside joke. Those who do not know their exit are trapped in a crack between dimensions, driving eternally on a Turnpike that never ends. They are never seen or heard from again.

3. There are diners everywhere. You see one on every highway, in every sleepy town, every bustling city center. It is the same diner. The customers sit in booths and at the counters, moaning as they pour scalding coffee down their throats with trembling hands. Enter, and the waitress at the front, with her sunken eyes and hollow cheeks, will say: “Room for one more, honey.”

4. On Memorial Day, people across the state load into their cars and head down the shore. They drive in a trance, as if guided by an unseen force. The highways are bumper to bumper for miles. Something is pulling them there. They flock to Wildwood, Seaside Heights boardwalk, Asbury Park. When they reach the sea, they abandon their cars and walk hand in hand into the ocean, toward the humming black orb that hangs in the sky.

5. Look outside your house in the winter and you’ll see a million glowing eyes staring back at you - hundreds of whitetail deer. Their jaws are moving, as if they’re chewing something. You think they might be speaking to you, but you are too afraid to open the door.

6. On the eve of their 18th birthday, every New Jerseyan is given: a copy of Weird NJ; a map of the state; a flashlight; and a crucifix. “Your journey begins at sundown,” their parents say, smiling with pride and worry as tears spill down their cheeks. “Godspeed, my child.”

7. On the Garden State Parkway, the radio plays only one song, no matter which station you flip to: “Born to Run” by Bruce Springsteen. He is telling you to run, get out while you can. But once you can hear it, it is too late.

8. New Jerseyans are blisteringly proud, defiant in their love of their home state. The best pizza, best bagels, honest and tolerant people, especially compared to their neighbors in Pennsylvania. But there’s nothing to be proud of in crime, corruption, pollution, bigotry, ignorance - the things that make us change the channel when they come up on News 12. Scarier still than looking outside is looking within ourselves.

9. Everyone claims to know someone who knows someone who’s seen the Jersey Devil. The legend is laughed off as campfire talk. But when they remember the bright red eyes from beyond the trees, the inhuman screech coming from somewhere deep in the woods, the laughter turns to anxious silence.