i made them ~*vibrant*~

When I was nine, possibly ten, an author came to our school to talk about writing. His name was Hugh Scott, and I doubt he’s known outside of Scotland. And even then I haven’t seen him on many shelves in recent years in Scotland either. But he wrote wonderfully creepy children’s stories, where the supernatural was scary, but it was the mundane that was truly terrifying. At least to little ten year old me. It was Scooby Doo meets Paranormal Activity with a bonny braw Scottish-ness to it that I’d never experienced before.

I remember him as a gangling man with a wiry beard that made him look older than he probably was, and he carried a leather bag filled with paper. He had a pen too that was shaped like a carrot, and he used it to scribble down notes between answering our (frankly disinterested) questions. We had no idea who he was you see, no one had made an effort to introduce us to his books. We were simply told one morning, ‘class 1b, there is an author here to talk to you about writing’, and this you see was our introduction to creative writing. We’d surpassed finger painting and macaroni collages. It was time to attempt Words That Were Untrue.

You could tell from the look on Mrs M’s face she thought it was a waste of time. I remember her sitting off to one side marking papers while this tall man sat down on our ridiculously short chairs, and tried to talk to us about what it meant to tell a story. She wasn’t big on telling stories, Mrs M. She was also one of the teachers who used to take my books away from me because they were “too complicated” for me, despite the fact that I was reading them with both interest and ease. When dad found out he hit the roof. It’s the one and only time he ever showed up to the school when it wasn’t parents night or the school play. After that she just left me alone, but she made it clear to my parents that she resented the fact that a ten year old used words like ‘ubiquitous’ in their essays. Presumably because she had to look it up.

Anyway, Mr Scott, was doing his best to talk to us while Mrs M made scoffing noises from her corner every so often, and you could just tell he was deflating faster than a bouncy castle at a knife sharpening party, so when he asked if any of us had any further questions and no one put their hand up I felt awful. I knew this was not only insulting but also humiliating, even if we were only little children. So I did the only thing I could think of, put my hand up and said “Why do you write?”

I’d always read about characters blinking owlishly, but I’d never actually seen it before. But that’s what he did, peering down at me from behind his wire rim spectacles and dragging tired fingers through his curly beard. I don’t think he expected anyone to ask why he wrote stories. What he wrote about, and where he got his ideas from maybe, and certainly why he wrote about ghosts and other creepy things, but probably not why do you write. And I think he thought perhaps he could have got away with “because it’s fun, and learning is fun, right kids?!”, but part of me will always remember the way the world shifted ever so slightly as it does when something important is about to happen, and this tall streak of a man looked down at me, narrowed his eyes in an assessing manner and said, “Because people told me not to, and words are important.”

I nodded, very seriously in the way children do, and knew this to be a truth. In my limited experience at that point, I knew certain people (with a sidelong glance to Mrs M who was in turn looking at me as though she’d just known it’d be me that type of question) didn’t like fiction. At least certain types of fiction. I knew for instance that Mrs M liked to read Pride and Prejudice on her lunch break but only because it was sensible fiction, about people that could conceivably be real. The idea that one could not relate to a character simply because they had pointy ears or a jet pack had never occurred to me, and the fact that it’s now twenty years later and people are still arguing about the validity of genre fiction is beyond me, but right there in that little moment, I knew something important had just transpired, with my teacher glaring at me, and this man who told stories to live beginning to smile. After that the audience turned into a two person conversation, with gradually more and more of my classmates joining in because suddenly it was fun. Mrs M was pissed and this bedraggled looking man who might have been Santa after some serious dieting, was starting to enjoy himself. As it turned out we had all of his books in our tiny corner library, and in the words of my friend Andrew “hey there’s a giant spider fighting a ghost on this cover! neat!” and the presentation devolved into chaos as we all began reading different books at once and asking questions about each one. “Does she live?”— “What about the talking trees” —“is the ghost evil?” —“can I go to the bathroom, Miss?” —“Wow neat, more spiders!”

After that we were supposed to sit down, quietly (glare glare) and write a short story to show what we had learned from listening to Mr Scott. I wont pretend I wrote anything remotely good, I was ten and all I could come up with was a story about a magic carrot that made you see words in the dark, but Mr Scott seemed to like it. In fact he seemed to like all of them, probably because they were done with such vibrant enthusiasm in defiance of the people who didn’t want us to.

The following year, when I’d moved into Mrs H’s class—the kind of woman that didn’t take away books from children who loved to read and let them write nonsense in the back of their journals provided they got all their work done—a letter arrived to the school, carefully wedged between several copies of a book which was unheard of at the time, by a new author known as J.K. Rowling. Mrs H remarked that it was strange that an author would send copies of books that weren’t even his to a school, but I knew why he’d done it. I knew before Mrs H even read the letter.

Because words are important. Words are magical. They’re powerful. And that power ought to be shared. There’s no petty rivalry between story tellers, although there’s plenty who try to insinuate it. There’s plenty who try to say some words are more valuable than others, that somehow their meaning is more important because of when it was written and by whom. Those are the same people who laud Shakespeare from the heavens but refuse to acknowledge that the quote “Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them“ is a dick joke.

And although Mr Scott seems to have faded from public literary consumption, I still think about him. I think about his stories, I think about how he recommended another author and sent copies of her books because he knew our school was a puritan shithole that fought against the Wrong Type of Wordes and would never buy them into the library otherwise. But mostly I think about how he looked at a ten year old like an equal and told her words and important, and people will try to keep you from writing them—so write them anyway.

i just really miss when being a part of the ace community meant sharing pictures of literally anything with ace flag colours on it, making jokes/edits about cake and dragons, and lots of puns 

that’s the asexual community i found when i was coming into my asexuality 

now it’s about literally defending your right to exist in the only spaces that used to accept you and hoping you don’t get death wishes for it 

it’s hard enough for me to exist in this space, and i’m so glad I no longer run an asexuality blog, but i can’t imagine what it must be like for young asexuals who are just recognizing themselves and who have no place to go 

i can’t imagine what it must be like for them to be terrified to tell the people in their gsa that they’re asexual for fear of being excluded or kicked out. i can’t imagine what it must be like to find the shambles of what was once a bright and vibrant asexual community on tumblr. 

just– i love every single ace person. i love every single young ace person. i love you all so much. thank you, to the ace community, for being what you were two years ago, and thank you for continuing to fight today. thank you for not giving up. 

Crash course on fake stones/misrepresentations

Because I have been too lazy to type this all up.

Quartz:

  • If your quartz has teeny air bubbles it’s glass.
  • If it’s got a fruit name it’s dyed. End of story. (strawberry, cherry, lemon, pineapple, blueberry) yes there may be some very rare exceptions-fire quartz being dubbed strawberry- but due to the rise in fakes with that name it’s generally called fire quartz now.
  • Aura quartz is a regular quartz that’s been bonded with another material. (man made)
  • Cinnabar Infused Quartz usually reconstituted and mixed together to make a red crystal.
  • Green quartz can be grown in a lab and anything that forrest green color is

Turquoise:

  • Magnesite and howlite look very very similar to turquoise when they’ve been dyed, magnesite will have very deep cracks in it though.
  • No there is no white turquoise. 
  • You can do a uv test to see if it’s real

Amber

  • Often faked with Copal. They look nearly identical.
  • Amber will float in salt water-copal will not.

Irradiated/dyed stones:

  • Very vibrant colors!!

Irradiated: (they irradiate the crystals to get a deeper or more vibrant color)

  • deeply pigmented topaz or kunzite
  • dark (almost black) smokey quartz 
  • very deep pink or red tourmaline 
  • colored diamonds 
  • some cultured pearls 
  • vibrant yellow heliodor 

Dyed:

  • Pearls
  • Agate
  • coral
  • other stones may be dyed as well, generally if it looks fake..it is.

Heat treated stones: (really not a bad thing but if you’re going for natural)

  • Amethyst-lighten color+remove brown
  • Citrine-heat treated amethyst.
  • Aquamarine-remove green
  • Ruby-clearer stone 
  • Sapphire-clearer stone

Rainbow Cal-Silica

  • Nope, completely fake 100%
  • Literally just car paint layered with calcite and resin.

Citrine: (im so sorry)

  • Much of the citrine on the market is lab made.
  • If it’s lab made it’s usually amethyst that’s been heated until it changes color
  • The bottom of these stones will be white with more color at the tips.
  • srry

Lapis Lazuli:

  • High quality is vibrant blue, hard to come by, and very expensive.
  • Low quality howlite, jasper or sodalite is dyed blue, and passed off as lapis.
  • Acetone will remove the dye but damage the stone.

Obsidian:

  • The clear green obsidian you see all over ebay is slag glass.
  • Natural green obsidian has been found but it is opaque and is more gray than green.
  • there is red obsidian as well but again, it’s not a vibrant red and is more brick colored.
  • Wikipedia is not always right.

Goldstone:

  • it’s glass it’s legitimately just glass

Opalite:

  • also glass. 
  • real opalite exists but it’s green and not commonly found
  • once again, don’t believe everything on wikipedia.

Bismuth:

  • Doesn’t naturally form in the crystals, lab made!!!
  • rlly pretty though

Hematite:

  • Not naturally magnetic!
  • Magnetic hematite is 100% man made!

I’ll add more as I come across them~

2

“Mr. Jang Tae Young, what exactly is it that you do?”

“…only the real gets to have it all.”

anonymous asked:

Can you do a Yakuza AU (if you're not comfortable with that than just normal) with hand x reader where their home is raided and reader is held hostage and hanzo has to watch a little as she is beat up or groped or something before he can save her and kill them? And then a lil fluffy smut along the lines of like "I could've lost you" or "I'll never let them hurt you"

((Yakuza Hanzo…is like my greatest weakness…holyshit thaaaank you for this request you lovely person you))

Japanese summers were absolutely stifling; the suffocating humidity combined with the sweltering heat left people in a constant state of lethargy and irritability. But in the same hand, they were incredibly beautiful in their uniqueness to only Japan; the festivals, fireworks, seasonal delicacies, variety of vibrant and unique yukatas all accompanied by the singing of cicadas. It made suffering through the intense weather worth it. But something was wrong…the cicadas around the Shimada-gumi’s summer estate had gone silent.

“Hanzo?”

Your voice was soft, still thick with sleep as you felt your husband’s arms untangle from around your waist, your body instantly rousing when the comforting heaviness of his touch was gone. Confused wakefulness began to course through you as your bleary eyes cleared, watching as your shirtless husband pulled one of his gun’s from his nightstand, hands quickly loading the weapon and pointing it at the door. You felt your heart begin to thunder in your chest as you pushed yourself up, Hanzo flashing one finger back at you as he took a half step towards the bedroom door. He was still shirtless, his raven hair hastily pushed back from his face but not tied up, the muscles of his back and shoulders tense. Your own body went tense as you heard a crash from downstairs, a muffled curse followed by the sound of more crashing.

Someone had gotten into the estate.

This was not the first time this had happened and you were sure that it wouldn’t be the last; the Shimada-gumi may not have been the biggest Yakuza faction in Japan but they were one of the strongest. That painted a very pretty target on any and all Shimada or Shimada associates’ back. Assassins, kidnappers, blackmailers, hell, even the occasional paparazzi had managed to sneak onto the estate, all looking for something that could bring the Yakuza faction to their knees. Still, none had made it into the main house. Most ended up snuffed out by their small army of Shimada hired bodyguards or security bots near the front gates, the more insistent trespasser making it to the gardens before being shut down. They weren’t in the main Shimada estate, however.

Hanzo had surprised you with a month-long trip to Hokkaido; the two of you visiting the various estates, onsens and even small castles that the Shimadas’ owned in the northern region, handling business on the side but mostly enjoying one another’s company. While your travel security detail had been with the both of you, it was light compared to the amount that stayed around on the main estate. Still, the travel schedule had been strictly need to know, meaning that someone had either hacked their itinerary or one of your trusted employees had divulged that information. Regardless, it appeared that you and Hanzo were on your own for the time being.

As quietly and quickly as you could, you groped at the nightstand until your fingers wrapped around your phone. You forced yourself to look away from your husband’s back, fingers dancing across the touchscreen in a practiced manner, activating the panic feature that had been built into the device. It sent a notification out to the elders, Genji, the entirety of the Shimada security detail and several police stations that were in the pocket of the family. Because of your location, you knew it would be at least two hours before someone arrived, the both of you just had to manage until then. You moved as silently as you could, Hanzo not turning to look at you as you lightly placed your hand on his back.

“I called”, you murmured, voice barely rising above a whisper, taking a half step closer and pressing your body against his back. Touching him calmed you, the heat from his body easily bleeding through the lace and chiffon of the cream negligee you wore, ebbing the racing of your heart. “Two hours…should we–?”

Your body jumped as you felt Hanzo go stock still against you, the sound of someone right outside the door making your blood run cold. The small estate you were in tonight had been upgraded back in 2050 to be more automated; biometric-based security systems, HD security cameras, holo-pad controlled HVAC and appliances and hidden lights that responded to physiological changes in the rooms they were installed in. The security system in the home was, or was supposed to be, heavily encrypted. But you watched as Hanzo adjusted his hold on the gun, the soft, electronic sounds of beeping sounding off through the door before several tiny clicks sounded. The biometric pad next to the door turned from red to green, Hanzo taking several steps back, arm reaching and pushing you further behind him.

“Ah ah, I would put the weapon down! Unless you want your pretty little wife to watch us blow a hole in you.”

Your hand curled into a fist against Hanzo’s back, feeling the angered growl that rumbled through his frame as he sized up the threat in front of the both of you. You could feel the vicious, snarling energy of his twin dragons rippling from beneath his tattoo, sending waves of warning heat through your left arm and your own white ink tattoo. All Shimadas’ were marked with a sign of the dragons, whether by becoming of age if you were blood related or marriage once you had been proven worthy. While unable to actually summon a dragon, the tattoo tied you to your husband and symbolized you were to be protected by his dragons. You didn’t need to see his face to know that his mind was running through every possible scenario that could play out, silently assessing their chances of getting out of here through brute force alone. Gulping thickly, you could see the slight twitch in his shoulders as his hand tightened around his gun before lowering it, the weapon clattering to the floor loudly as he raised his hand.

“Name your demands”, Hanzo said smoothly, his deep voice even despite the danger. His words were sharp, commanding, taking charge despite the fact that he was at a disadvantage; just as the head of the Shimada-gumi should. His right arm remained raised but his left was behind him, keeping you safely tucked behind his body, shielding your both from seeing and being seen by them.

“Oh we will”, the obvious leader remarked snidely, his voice nasally and grating. There was a chorus of laughter that sounded from behind him before he snapped. “Grab ‘em!”

Your husband snarled at the men, stepping back and trying to guard you before the butt of a pistol swung out and connected with his left temple, stunning the man.

“Hanzo!”

Your arms wrapped around Hanzo’s middle as his body wavered, squeaking softly as you and Hanzo fell. Pulling him tight against your body, you were finally able to see the men that dared to attack the Shimada-gumi. There were five of them clustered around the door, the red oni tattooed on the side of their neck clearly indicating what faction they were from. Dogs from the Horikoshi-gumi. The Shimada and Horikoshi factions had been locked in a bloody battle, the latest fight taking out the second lieutenant from the Horikoshi gang. Last you heard though, was Hanzo and Ryota, their leader, had come to an agreement, a truce to end the bloodshed. Apparently his men hadn’t heeded the memo. The scrawny man in front leered at you, a wide grin breaking across his face, revealing a mouth full of golden teeth.

“You heard me boys, grab ‘em! Let’s take them downstair so we can put on a real show.”


It felt as if a nail had been driven through the left side of his head, Hanzo biting back the groan of pain that threatened to fall from his lips. The throbbing in his skull was only matched by thrum of heat beating in his arms, the dragons twisting and snarling, waiting to lash out for their master.

“Real shame you had to go and marry a Shimada. You’re real pretty. Sweet little thing like you would look real nice on my arm.”

“The only shameful thing right now is being touched by the likes of you”, you stated coldly, venom in your calmly spoken words.

Hanzo forced his eyes open, his lip curling up in a silent snarl of pain as light flooded his senses, lids fluttering until he could see clearly. His wrists had been bound together and he had been left in a kneeling position while unconscious. Hanzo barely tilted his face, assessing the room quickly before he lost the advantage of no one knowing he was awake. It appeared that they had dragged the both of you into the tea room, the size of the room comfortably seating the dozen or so men that appeared to have been stationed in there. Hanzo felt his stomach twist tight in both anger and worry as his eyes connected with you, his fists clenching tight as he resisted the urge to lash out.

Your face had settled into a stony mask, full lips drawn in a tight line of anger, eyes staring directly ahead at the wall. You sat in seiza, shoulders rolled back and head held high, back ramrod straight with your hands curled tightly in your lap. The right sleeve of your gown had been torn, your hair was disheveled and several strands hung in your face, your braid almost completely loosed. Despite the leering men around you and the precarious situation the two of you were in, you still gave off the aura of a perfect lady. Two men stood on either side of you, the man that had struck Hanzo before was walking back and forth in front of you.

“Think you’re so high and mighty don’t you bitch? You think we don’t know you were one of them little hostess sluts?”

“I may have been a hostess but I had class unlike you”, you scoffed, gaze still refusing to meet his. The man growled hand flying out and grabbing you by the hair, fingers tangling deep into your locks and yanking your head up.

“Get your hands off of her!”

The man’s hold on your hair slackened for a brief second before tightening, a manic titter lifting from his throat. Your eyes flew to Hanzo’s, the mask of fearless indifference cracking into unadulterated relief and abject distress as the man holding your hair shook you with a leering grin. Your lips pursed tight, refusing to reward the man with a cry of pain, a shameful blush burning across your cheeks as the cretin moved behind you and grabbed your throat with his free hand.

“Well good morning sunshine”, the man exclaimed, a sneer settling on his lips as he glared down at Hanzo. Chuckles followed from around the room, the low-ranking lackeys smirking wickedly at their eyes darted from their boss and you to the bound Hanzo. “Woke up just in time to see me play with your pretty little whore! If anything happens to her, it’s all on you buddy! Shouldn’t have fucked with us!”

Hanzo made a move to stand only to have two hands clap down on his shoulders and yank him back to the floor. Your eyes went round, struggling against the hold, a raucous laugh rising as the both of you protested the treatment of the other. A cry was finally wrested from your lips as you felt the hand of the man drag down from your throat, playing with the edge of your gown brusquely. Your eyes frantically locked with your husband, seeing the discernable rage in his gaze, his body struggling against the men before going completely still. His brow was furrowed, more in concentration now rather than anger as he stared at you, silently exuding calm your way. He was telling you to ‘focus on him’. You blinked several times, the tears that rested in your eyes rolling down your cheeks, as you gave a fraction of a nod to your head.

“Is this all of them”, Hanzo asked simply, ignoring the incredulous bark of laughter that bounced through the room.

“Y-yes”, you answered, your eyes darting around before looking back to your husband’s as realization began to dawn on you. A soft astonished laughed fell from your lips as the gangster yanked at your hair once more, earning yet another laugh from you.

“What the fuck is so funny?!”

“You and your men”, you started, voice slightly strained in pain as he tugged harder at your hair, confidence returning to your face. “You are foolish men who have made a grave error. You never corner a dragon.”

“Just what the fu–”

“Ryū ga waga teki wo kurau!”

You winced, not allowing your eyes to fully shut, as the room filled with bright, brilliant bursts of cyan light. Hanzo’s twin dragons burst forth from his arm, a deafening roar filling the small space as Yuuki and Ame tore their way through the men, circling around the room and hitting every target. The dragons, like their master, were thorough in their ferocity; ripping through the bodies of the men and completely disintegrating them with their magic energy. A reassured smiled tugged at your lips as the dragons reached you, the hand holding your hair finally releasing you and allowing you to drop back to the ground fully. It felt like a summer breeze was blowing around you, warm and soothing and peaceful, your own tattoo thrumming as the dragons danced around you briefly before surging back to their master. Your eyes fluttered open, briefly looking around the emptied before connecting with Hanzo.

“Hanzo!”

You cried out for your husband, scrambling forward and hastily untying the ropes that bound his wrists. As soon as his arms were freed, you threw your arms around his neck, the man’s strong arms wrapping around you as he fell back onto his rear. Your hands shook as you pulled back slightly, finger touching the bruise to the side of his face gingerly a sympathetic whimper rumbling in your throat. Your fingers continued to dance over his skin, he doing the same to you in return, both of you worriedly examining one another. You flinched as you felt Hanzo’s hand graze the top of your negligee, gulping hard as your eyes locked back onto his anger darkened amber eyes.

“I was so scared”, you forced out, leaning forward to press your forehead against his, tears springing to your eyes. He pressed back, his hands lifting to hold either side of your face gently, thumbs rubbing in slow circles. “They hit you and you were out…and they dragged us down here and you weren’t moving Han. You weren’t moving…and they…they said…I could’ve lost you…”

“I am so sorry beloved”, he breathed out, tilting his head up and pressing a hard kiss to your lips to silence your anxious rambling, a soft sob falling against his lips. “I will never let them hurt you. I will never let anyone hurt you again. I will protect you til my dying breath.”

“No dying”, you corrected, your sob and laugh morphing together as you kissed him back hard.

Kissing him made everything feel better, your arms wrapping hard around his neck as you tried to press yourself closer to him. You needed to touch him, feel him and it seemed that the feeling was mutual, the both of you drawing consolation from one another. Hanzo’s hands pulled away from your face, trailing downwards in a soothing manner, thumbs lightly massaging at your throat then at your collarbone and shoulders before dropping to the neckline of your negligee. His touch was gentle, tender, pushing away the mental remnants of that cretin’s hands on you. You whined as he broke away from your lips, softly shushing you as he kissed the corner of your lips then your jaw and your jaw. He gently nudged your face with his nose, a silent query for permission that you quickly granted by tilting your head up for him. He kissed where the man’s hand had been so tightly wrapped around, drawing soft sighs from your lips before dipping lower.

“Han…”

Your hands tightened on his shoulder, in no way stopping the man but steadying yourself in his lap as his beard grazed the swell of your breast. He softly shooshed you again, hand coming up to run over your cheek before it moved to undo the button at the nap of your neck. The gown slackened slightly around your shoulders, Hanzo pausing to run his fingers over and through your hair, completely undoing your braid before his hands dragged back up to your shoulders. He pushed your nightgown down, your arms dropping, the soft, translucent fabric to pool at your waist. Soft sighs and whimpers of appreciation tumbled from your lips as his lips drew downwards, back arching as he captured one of your nipples in his mouth. Your hands dragged to the back of his head, pushing him closer, fingers tangling into his hair.

His touch, his lips, the soft words of endearment spoken against your skin drove away the fear of losing him, the thoughts of being touched by another. Your fingers scratched lightly at his scalp, his calloused hands running up and down your sides and over whichever breast wasn’t currently in his mouth. He lowered you gently to the floor, his mouth leaving your sensitive nub, eyes boring into yours lovingly. Gently cupping his cheek you smiled, other hand gently coaxing him back to your lips and kissing him earnestly. Heat was rolling lazily in your core, the emotional need to be coupled with your husband winning out over the physical demand for it.

“Please”, you breathed out as the both of you broke away, stars in your eyes as you looked at him. You peppered soft, adoring kisses to his lips through your words, unrushed, tender shows of affection and want. “Hanzo, please?”

He smiled at you, a rare expression that you hoarded greedily and proudly, his gaze soft yet hungry for you. He assented, nodding and gently nudging his forehead against yours, placing one more kiss against your lips. You loosed your hold around his neck as he pulled back, his hands pushing his silk night trousers and underwear down. Eyes dipping downward, you shivered as your eyes took in the sight of his thick cock, already dripping with precum. Hanzo’s hand lightly tilted your chin up, your eyes locking as he slowly crawled over your body. You laid back with him over you, shivering hard as his lips pressed into yours, whimpering softly as his hands pushed your gown up. The warmth of his hands made your skin tingle wherever they roamed, sighing needily as he gently massaged at your bare hips, spreading your legs for him as his hands dragged to your thighs.

“Hm!”

You whined against his lips, back arching as his hand grinded insistently at your mound, fingers slowly rolling around your sensitive nub. He smiled against your lips, catching your moans as her rubbed your wet slit, fingers barely dipping into your core. Your arms wrapped tight around his neck, pulling him closer to you and whining piteously at his teasing motions.

“Han please”, you breathed against his lips as he dragged his hand over your clit once more, gently clawing at his shoulders.

“Of course beloved”, Hanzo murmured, pulling his hand away from your cunt before moving further your legs.

The both of you groaned as Hanzo lightly brushed his cock against your entrance, your hands tightening against his shoulders once more. Your breath hitched as he began to push into you, toes curling and hips rolling as the head slipped inside. Hanzo’s head fell to your shoulder as he set a steady, lazy pace, his lips and tongue pressing gently into the skin of your neck. There was no rush in either of your movements, hands falling to either side of your head, Hanzo’s hands intertwining with yours.

“You are mine”, he moaned against your skin as he nibbled at your pulse points. You gave a loan moan of agreement, nodding your head dazedly as he gave a slight snap of his hip. “Made just for me beloved. Only mine to touch, dearest. Mine to protect.”

His words were possessive but not aggressive, waves of pleasure lapping hungrily at your senses each time he spoke. The words were intimate, loving, his grinding hips and thrusts filled with a need to show you how much he needed you, cared for you. One of his hands released yours, his thrusts getting faster, sloppier as you tightened around him. Butterflies flew in your stomach their numbers expanding as his hands caressed your face tenderly, combing through your hair and moaning your name in such a sweet, loving voice.

“H-Hanzo”, you whimpered, body being carted towards.a.point of no return. Your mind was filled with thoughts of him, your darling husband, of his words and his caresses, of the sweet nothings the slurred together as he hungrily kissed and nipped at your skin. Nothing from earlier remained, only him and his affections and his cock coaxing you towards your edge. Your eyes slipped closed, fireworks dancing behind your lids as you came, Hanzo’s strokes picking up as he fell right along with you. You could feel the warmth of his seed fill you, your walls milking him hungrily, taking all of him in. All you could do was squeeze his hands tight, free hand wrapping around his neck to press him close and sobbing words of agreement to him. “Yours, all yours dear husband. Just for you. You just for me. Oh Hanzo I love you, I love you I love you.”

“I love you too my beloved wife”, he said through gentle kisses, body still shivering as he fell atop you, his weight a welcomed warmth.

It took several moment for the both of you to regain your bearings; Hanzo redressing you and himself, picking you up bridal style (despite your insistence you could walk) and laying you in the bed while telling you to sleep, that he would take care of the rest. You assented to him this time, only requiring one stipulation: that he stay until you fell asleep. And so he did, brushing your hair and face until you were lulled into dreamland comfortably.

So I’ve decided to go through my old art I made a few years ago, touch up the photos and start posting them to my page here. We’ll start off with one of my favorites, and the best paintings I’ve done, “The Smell of Pitch”. It’s a triptych of the same image of one of the best characters from my favorite franchises, Joshua Graham from Fallout: New Vegas. I sorta went wild with the color scheme and kept the background solid black to make everything more vibrant, and I still love how they came out, got em’ hanging on my bedroom wall right now. Hope Fallout fans get a kick out of this, look forward to more of my archived art in the near future(spoiler alert, it starts going downhill fast).

-Tycho

Unknown King - part IV

Pairing: Bucky x reader

Great Gatsby AU

Summary: After moving to New York, aspiring author Y/N gets more than what she bargained for when she befriends her mysterious neighbor. In a blur of riches and beauty, she finds herself falling for the man who remains unknown.

A/N: I am really slow on updates because I’m busy with work and I’m trying to do 3 school projects at a time. Please let me know if you ant to be tagged or added to my permanent tag list

Word count: 2.1k

Part I Part II Part III 

Masterlist

Two months passed and you still didn’t have a good headline. At work, you were still called the Rookie. Not to mention your pay was not all that great. The savings you had were running low. The owner of the house you lived in raised the price on the rent, which meant that your entire check from The Report went towards the rent. If you didn’t find a good scoop, you’d be doomed for sure.

However, every time a killer story surfaced, the opportunity would be snatched away by a newly hired girl. Her name was Madison Titan. She’s only been at The Report for a month but has managed to climb the ladder of success. She always scored front page headlines. She hated you. It wasn’t hard for you to realize that, but you didn’t let it bring you down. You didn’t have time for silly middle school actions.

You sighed as you looked at the stack of bills that needed to be paid. Asking you parents for money was not an option. Your father told you this would happen and it did. He’d just use this opportunity to give you the “I Told You So” conversation. No way did you want him to have that victory.

You looked out the window. A handful of sports cars were parked in Bucky’s circular driveway. You became very good friends with Bucky. Every Saturday he would take your out for lunch. It became a routine. You still knew little about him but didn’t push him to open up. You bit down on your bottom lip and turned away from the window. Shortly after, you received a message from Bucky.

Bucky: come over, I have some friends I want you to meet.

You: right now?

Bucky: yes! You’re not busy right?

You: of course not, I’ll be right over

You ran into your room and pulled the closet open. After pulling on a soft oversized sweater, you quickly sprayed some perfume on you before grabbing your keys. The sun sat high in the sky, beating down on you. You pulled the sweater into your exposed shoulder, but it was no use. The cloth would simply fall back. You walked through Bucky’s garden. Everything looked beautiful with its exotic flowers and pungent smells of roses that engulfed your senses. It looked beautiful, almost ethereal.  You sighed and knocked on the door. A butler opened the door.

“Miss Y/L/N, Mister Barnes is expecting you,” He said.

You smiled and stepped inside. This was the third time you were in Bucky’s house. Clearly, you never went this the extravagant parties he threw every Friday night.

The Butler led you to the pool area where there were a few people mingling around. Bucky saw you and made his way towards you. His head bent down a bit as if he was going in for a kiss, but at the last minute pulled you into a hug. You patted his back and smiled. He wrapped an arm around your shoulder.

“Y/N these are friends of mine,” He said.

A tall man with blond hair steps forward. He was ad muscular as Bucky and flashed you a kind smile, “Steve Rogers.”

You smiled and shook his hand. A beautiful woman with red hair shook hands with you. She introduced herself as Natasha Romanoff. Then you met Sam Wilson, who had a mischievous smile and lingered close to you for a few seconds before leaving your side to talk to Steve. Wanda and Pietro Maximoff introduced themselves at the same time and you almost didn’t catch their names. Finally, you finished off with Clint Barton and Thor, who didn’t give you his surname.

You sat on one of the bar stools at the outdoor bar. You watched as Bucky spoke with his friends openly. Wanda sat next to you, she ordered her drink before turning to you.

“How long have you and Barnes been together?” She asked, her thick accent hung on her voice.

You choked on your drink and began to cough. You shook your head, “We’re not dating. Just good friends.”

She hummed, “The way he looks at you says something else.”

“How does he-?”

“Never mind that,” She said abruptly. “You must be special. James doesn’t always introduce us to his neighbors, much less his girls.”

You sipped your drink, growing uncomfortable about the situation. It seemed like she was talking to herself aloud instead of you. You shrugged, “we’ve known each other for a few months now.”

“He’s not the most open person in the world. Just be patient,” She smiled.


Bucky told you to stay until everyone left. It was two hours of just talking and drinking and lounging around. It wasn’t bad, you were able yo take your mind off the stack of bills that would surely give you a headache once you stepped back into your home. You stood at Bucky’s side as he watched the final car leave the driveway.

He turned to you and smiled, “did you have fun?”

You nodded, “I did!”

“Come on, I’ll give you a tour of the house.” He opened the door and you stepped inside once again. “It had dawned on me that I hadn’t shown you my home.”

“Your house is very beautiful,” You remarked as you followed him deeper into parts of his house that you hadn’t been in.

“It is,” Bucky agreed. “It was built in the late 1800s. The chandeliers had all collected an inch of dust when I first bought this place. Obviously, no one had lived in it for a while.”

You passed various closed doors that you didn’t bother asking what was behind them. Instead, you continued to follow him until the vibrant hallway opened into a large room with a long table in it. The table could possible seat 20 guests and it almost made you sad at the thought of Bucky sitting on one of those chairs eating dinner by himself.

“The dining room,” He said. “Had this table imported from a castle in Europe. Never eat here.”

You weren’t surprised by what he said. He was already moving forward, you quickly followed close behind. Bucky opened a door that revealed the kitchen. It was probably the size of your house. It had a pizza oven, another oven, a grand silver stove, a refrigerator, beautiful marble island and other things you did not recognize. Two chefs were working around the kitchen. Cutting vegetables and fruit while another stirred something in a pot. It smelled exquisite. You watched as the chef cutting the fruit threw the diced strawberries into a large machine that ate the berries and produced a red juice.

“These are the chefs that run the kitchen. Renaldo, Anthony, this is Y/N.” Bucky introduced.

The two men smiled and bowed their heads. Renaldo came forward, “would the Miss like some bread?”

“Yes! Of course!” Bucky boomed happily.

Renaldo grabbed a knife and opened a silver drawer in an oven. Be pulled out a loaf of bread and began cutting it into slices. He handed you one. It was warm, crunchy and soft at the same time.

“This is amazing,” you remarked. “Best bread I’ve ever had!”

“It’s Renaldo’s family recipe,” Bucky said. “Even I don’t know what’s in it.”

You smiled and took another bite from the bread. Bucky led you to a walk-in freezer, where all the ice cream, frozen meats and other foods were stored. He grabbed a wine glass that was filled with chocolate. The door closed behind him, keeping the cold contained. Anthony handed him a spoon and Bucky gave you the glass of chocolate. You dipped the spoon in the glass and ate the chocolate mousse.

“Do you like it?” He asked.

You nodded, “it’s delicious.”

Bucky opened another door and revealed the small room to be filled with different wine bottles. The shelves had white wine as well as red wine. Your lips parted in awe at his wide collection of wine bottles.

The rest of the tour was a blur. Bucky showed you the indoor pool and jacuzzi, gym, game room, lounge area, the courtyard where all the parties usually were held and various other rooms that only seemed to be found a palace.

“Bucky your place is amazing!” You twirled around and closed your eyes as you spun.

“Y/N.”

You stopped and faced Bucky. He was smiling at your state. He took a deep breath as if preparing himself for something.

“Y/N,” He paused. “Do you-would you like to-?”

He was interrupted when the sound of his phone went off. A look of anger flashed through his eyes as he pulled out his phone. Bucky looked up apologetically.

“I’m so sorry, I have to take this, it’s an important call,” he said.

You nodded, “It’s okay Buck.”

He turned his back to you and walked into another room. You managed to catch the beginning of the conversation.

“This better be good Harrison, I was in the middle of something,” Bucky growled.

You were a bit taken aback at his attitude. Not wanting to eavesdrop, you walked away from the door. Your own phone vibrated. It was a message for Emma, saying that Cole wanted to see you. You bit your lip, debating whether to stay and find out what Bucky was going to ask you or go to your boss. You slowly walked towards the room and poked your head in. Bucky was listening intently to the voice at the other end of the line.

“Psst!”

Bucky turned.

“I have to go to work,” You whispered. “We’ll talk tomorrow, okay?”

He moved his phone away from his mouth and nodded. He quickly mouthed an apology. You smiled and turned, making your way to the exit. Leaving a very frustrated Bucky behind.


“Ah, Y/N so good you could make it,” Mr. Cole said when you entered his office. “Please, take a seat. We have much to discuss.”

“What do you wish to discuss?” You asked though you had a feeling of what he wanted to talk about. Mr. Cole leaned back in his seat and set his cigar in the ashtray. You tried you best to muffle a cough. The smell was pungent.

“I’ve heard that you are neighbors with Barnes, is that correct?” He asked.

You furrowed your eyebrows at his comment but nodded, “Yes, I am.”

Cole nodded in approval, “I am willing to make a deal with you.” He paused. “I can raise your pay.” He opened a drawer and pulled out a check. Cole set it in front of you. The check read five thousand dollars and it was addressed to you. “You can walk out of here with this check as long as you agree to my proposal.”

“And what’s that?” You asked, knowing the demon that was around the corner.

“You find out where Barnes gets his money and give me various stories about the skeletons in his closet.” He said.

You scoffed, “Mr. Cole, Mister Barnes is a mystery to me. I barely know the man.”

“Emma tells me she’s seen you going out to lunch with him various times,” Cole said.

Anger fueled inside of you at his comment. How dare he! And how could Emma ever do that to you? You shook your head. “I refuse to do what you request. I can’t ruin a friendship over a headline.”

Cole shrugged and grabbed a pen before writing ‘VOID’ across the check. He threw the pen down, “Pack your things Y/N.”

You nodded, “Gladly.”

You walked out of the office, with nothing but your pride. Your head was tall as you walked to your desk. There was nothing that you wanted to take with you. Nothing to 'pack up.’

“Y/N!” Emma called to you.

You looked at her with tear-filled eyes. Your bottom lip quivered as you grabbed a small postcard on your desk and left to the elevator. You couldn’t help but scorn them. You hated that they were about to use Bucky for a headline. That they were going to invade someone’s life to get a story. You shook your head and wiped your eyes. These people were gullible. Hiding behind their laptops and hunting in a herd for weak prey.

Although he was still a closed book to you, Bucky could possibly be the most truthful person you’ve met.


You thought your day couldn’t get worse. You were wrong. With a slam of the car door, you ripped up the postage card and threw it on the ground, knowing that you’d come back and pick it up later. You walked up the steps of your home and your heart shattered by a single piece of paper.

It was an eviction notice.

You took the paper down and went into your home. You pressed your back against the door and sat down. With your knees pulled up to your chest, you cried. You cried because you had finally done it. You failed. You cried because you lost your job. You cried because you felt used, you felt dirty and stained.

You cried because you knew you had to leave New York, which means leaving Bucky as well.

Tags: @i-want-to-fuck-that-dorito-man @jade-cheshire@caitsymichelle13@brooklynnewsie1899 @shamvictoria11@nebulaeofpie @fave-fan-fic @avengerswitch@barnes-and-noble-girl@5-seconds-of-sebastian-stan @sheerio-styles@fearthedietcoke@lost-to-my-mind @buckys-other-punk @secrets-rain@theriumking@faithful-music @myhighanddry-blog@amrita31199@nadialinett14@heismyhunter@marvelgoateecollection@imgettingmarriedtobuckybarnes@heyitsannexcx @crazy-attack@akaganhan @star-arm-and-shield@sebstan01@kcsavege4134 @t0ny-st4nk@virtualenemygalaxy@blackcoffeeandgreenteaforme@seargantbcky@heytherepartner@falling-buxky@aweways@elisaramirez14 @xxhushaaxx @bucknastywinterbear @bucky–b4rnes@oopsmybagofplums @crazychick010 @rapunzxl @fangirl1029@apeshit1x @shannonfayee @sammiplier1 @slut-for-barnes@brooklhyn@multiple-fandomimagines@ailynalonso15@annehansen1012 @winter-in-wakanda@heaven-bound-angel@thesherlockblr @therealme13posts @im-a-wretched-human-being  @queenof-wakanda@njavezan @bvckys-bvtt @bvckys-doll @themermaidpirate @wolfseekerr 

*Permanent tag list, if you want to be added or taken off please tell me. Also if you want to be added to the taglist of this story, also tell me

Foodie Friday: Pasta al Pomodoro

Servings: 2-4

Ingredients:
-¼ cup extra-virgin olive oil
-1 medium onion, minced
-4 garlic cloves, minced
-Pinch crushed red pepper flakes
-28 oz. can peeled tomatoes, pureed
-Kosher or Sea salt
-3 large basil sprigs, plus basil leaves for garnish
-12 oz pasta of choice (spaghetti, linguine, rotini, or cavatappi recommended)
-2 tbsp unsalted butter
-¼ cup finely grated parmesan, pecorino, or romano cheese

1. Heat olive oil in a skillet over medium-low heat. Add onion and cook, stirring, until soft. In a separate pot, bring salted water to a boil.

2. Add garlic and cook, stirring, for about 2-4 minutes (remember to use your nose and keep close attention on fragrance; you don’t want the garlic to burn)

3. Add the pepper flakes and cook for about a minute to release flavor. Increase the heat to medium, add t he tomatoes, and season lightly with salt. Cook, stirring occasionally, until the sauce begins to thicken slightly and the flavors blend (roughly 20 minutes).

4. Remove the pan from heat, stir in the basil sprigs, and set aside.

5. In the pot, add pasta to the boiling water and cook, stirring occasionally until it is close to al dente (but not quite there yet). Drain the pasta, reserving about ½ a cup of the pasta water.

6. Remove the basil from the sauce and heat the skillet over high heat. Stir in the reserved water to loosen the sauce and bring to a boil. Add pasta and cook, stirring, until al dente. Remove the pan from the heat, add butter and cheese, and toss until the cheese and butter has melted.

7. Transfer to warm bowls, and garnish with grated cheese and basil leaves or parsley.

Magical Ingredient

When I get home from work, my boyfriend sometimes comments about how I smell. As I work in an Italian kitchen, this can either be a good thing or a bad thing for him. On a good day, I end up smelling like alfredo with a hint of garlic. On a bad day, I come home smelling strongly of tomatoes. Love them or hate them, it’s difficult to separate the tomato from Italian cooking. From savory to sweet, tomatoes have a wonderful range of flavor depending upon how they’re cooked, and they lend a vibrant red color to whatever dish they’re being made into.

Given how strong of an association tomatoes have to Italian cuisine, it’s sometimes easy to forget that historically, tomatoes are actually fairly new to European cooking, having been introduced as part of the Columbian Exchange and spurned because of its status as a member of the nightshade family of plants, much like potatoes and eggplant. It wouldn’t be for another 150 years before tomatoes would be considered safe for consumption, and even then, only in sauces.

Part of the fear of tomatoes was because of its link to deadly nightshade, but another aspect of this fear was due to its connection to lust. Its deep red color and use as a powerful aphrodisiac linked it rather strongly to the temptation of Eve in the Christian Genesis story, and some languages still associate tomatoes with lust and love (particularly French - pomme d’amore - and Hungarian - paradice appfel - which mean “apple of love” and “apple of paradise” respectively).

In terms of health, tomatoes are extremely beneficial for those who aren’t allergic or sensitive to their acidity. In particular, they’re useful in aiding liver function and are rich in potassium and citric acid. In addition, their high water content makes them useful in helping with hydration.

But in witchcraft, the tomato continues to embrace its status as an ingredient of lust, love, protection, and money-drawing - especially when paired with other ingredients with shared correspondences. When dried and added to sachets, tomatoes can be excellent in attracting love (or sex), or if added along with dried basil or rosemary can be a great money sachet or protection sachet respectively.

Consider pairing tomato varieties with your purpose. If attempting to attract money, consider using a golden variety or little green tomatillos. If working lust or love spells, plump red tomatoes are always a great choice. If looking for protection, consider fiery orange colors.

Many names for tomatoes have linked them to apples. As such, it’s not too great a leap to replace apples in other spells with tomatoes, if it seems appropriate or is more accessible. On the flip side, tomatoes can also be used in spells where nightshade may be an ingredient. While not poisonous, tomatoes are much more easily obtained and the family resemblance is rather uncanny.

For garden witchery, tomatoes are exceptional plants to grow for protection and wealth. Grow them to help banish negativity and invite positive energy to the property, as well as to encourage prosperity and love.

Consider different ways in which this delicious fruit can be used in your spells! Whether cooking up a sauce, roasting them, or setting them in the window to banish negative energy, tomatoes are useful and versatile ingredients for the every day witch!

May all your meals be blessed! )O(

pphew! sorry for the late reply to these >.< i figured id just reply to all these in one post with some pics. Below are the watercolors i use and the the gold paints (keep in mind those pics i posted were like first attempts @_@ im still getting used to these…)

The water colors are Mjello Mission Gold Watercolors in the 34 tube set and the gold palette are the FineTec Artist Mica Watercolors in the Pearl set. 

Now I’ll state first– both these sets are kinda pricey. The FineTec palette (about $27) is so worth it though because it comes in different golds and one tube of gold gouache is usually like $9 each or more depending on the amount of mica, so def worth the price and variety.

Below: from lightest to darkest on ivory tinted paper [Silver, Moon Gold, Gold Pearl, Arabic Gold, Tibet Gold, & Inca Gold] they look SUPER outstanding on black paper as well!

my fav is the richest one, the Inca Gold.

They are super nice, but if you plan on getting them, they are super HARD palettes! It’ll take a lot of scrubbing to get them activated and to have that nice gouache-like thickness, so if you don’t want to ruin your nice brushes, I def recommend getting some Ox Gall. Adding a drop or two of this will get them activated in no time, and with a nice opaque thickness. (the brand I have below they dont sell anymore, but other brands still make it)

As for the water colors, ehhh i feel weird cuz those vegetas were like my first attempts with this brand. Ive always used the Sakura Koi 24 color set palette because theyre super nice and super cheap (like $20) and Ive had them for years. I only got these because I wanted higher-grade watercolors in tubes. But they are very expensive, but for good reasons: they have a lot of pigment, which makes them so vibrant and bright and theyre designed to be very close to natural colors, not to mention theyre so SMOOTH when painting and they’ll probs last me forEVER because you get so much color with very little water.

(opera is best color IMHO) here’s a color chart I made (that took FOREVER btw) to give you an idea how beautiful they are and how many nice colors they make

so yea! those are the paints I used for those particular pics. Course if you would like a nice, cheap watercolor recommendation that works pretty well, Sakura Koi’s are a fantastic substitute. …..SORRY IF THIS WAS LONG i just akdfhalkfhd i like talking about traditional media..lol. hope this was at least a little informative >.< if anyone has questions or wants some recommendations (while also saving some money) feel free to ask! I’ll help in any way i can with what i know, cuz despite posting mostly digital art, I am a traditional art supply FANATIC. 

anonymous asked:

Hey I just wanted to ask if you've ever heard of nudibranches! They're the family that includes sea slugs and some of them are... very yonic. Not to mention that some species fence with their peens to win a mate!

Yes! I love nudibranchs! I spend a fair bit of time on the sea, and there is nothing that makes my day quite the same way as happening across a nudibranch!

Nudibranchs are the frilliest, fluffiest, most multi-coloured sea dandies.

Observe:

Spanish shawl nudibranch.

They don’t look quite real, right? Like something made out of candy or blown glass, wafting and wriggling through the sea.  Some nudibranchs get their vibrant hues from the things that they eat in an attempt to blend in with their environments - or let predators know that eating them would be a mistake.  This is called cryptic colouration.

Flame nudibranch.

Look at that.  Look at it.  Dale Chihuly in his wildest wet dreams could never invent that.

Nudibranchs exist all over the world, even in the Antarctic, and they come in all manner of wild varieties.

And some of them look like this:

Spanish dancer nudibranch

Seth Rollins | Happier

Title: Happier

Pairing: Seth Rollins/OFC

Summary: “…I knew one day you’d fall for someone new.”

Words: 2,646

Warnings: Past infidelity; Angsty Angst.

A/N: I wrote this based heavily on Ed Sheeran’s “Happier” from his new album Divide. I hope you lovelies enjoy this sort of upsetting little fic.

Keep reading

me: be yourself! don’t let anybody change who you are!

dan: i loathe sunflowers

me: SUNFLOWERS ARE SATAN’S SPAWN I BANISH THEM FROM MY HOUSEHOLD IF YOU LIKE SUNFLOWERS I DESPISE YOU GET THIS ABNORMALLY LARGE, VIBRANT, TERRIFYING AND OBNOXIOUS FLOWER AWAY FROM ME

2

Watercolour Mahinashipping + Snowlilyshipping with their corresponding flowers

  • Moon doesn’t have a flower associated name so I chose a tropical white morning glory (aka a moonflower, but that name is interchangeably used for so many other flowers like ???? IDK) for her.
  • The moon was chosen for Gladion and Moon since that’s what ‘mahina’ means (moonlight), and it suits them well. I get that Lonashipping is the other accepted fandom shipping name for them, but I choose the mahinashipping name over it for a variety of reasons.
  • The sun is chosen for Hau and Lillie for obvious reasons (Hau’s overall personality + Lillie’s happiness that progresses over the story)/both of them are full of sunshine IOJFSEOIFEOSIOIESF.

I inked everything awhile ago…and I made so many mistakes in the entire process HAHA. The colours are quite off when I scanned them in…they are way more vibrant in person.

Inked with Sakura Microns + Sakura Gellyroll highlighting. Painted with Reeves Watercolours + tiny bit of goauche x food colouring, and Tombow Dual Brush Pens (skin only).

Prologue - Anastasia AU with Jason Todd

Tagging: @noctem-vincere, @cait-writes-stuff, @avengerdragoness, @kamuithedragonlord, @birbs-and-the-bat, @hey-haylee

A/N: This is the first part of the series! I am so excited y’all.


Y/N laughed as her father picked her up and spun her around. The music from the symphony was upbeat as the aristocrats danced the night away. Everyone was dressed in their very best outfits and colors from every part of the rainbow were present. Jewels sparkled on the hands, necks, and ears of the women who smiled coyly at their dance partners. Y/N could see her sister Olga dancing with a handsome soldier. She stuck her tongue out at her and giggled at the disapproving glare her sister through over her shoulder.

Through the twirling, Y/N caught sight of her favorite person in the entire world. Her grandmother, the dowager empress and the mother of Nicholas II, Tsar of Imperial Russia and Y/N’s beloved father. She smiled and wriggled out of her father’s arms in favor of running across the dance floor to see her Grandmama.

“Grandmama, Grandmama! I drew this for you look! For you to look at and remember when you go to Paris.” Y/N said excitedly as she handed the childish drawing over. Her eyes grew solemn as she thought about her Grandmother’s imminent departure and their separation. “I wish you did not have to go.”

“I know, my darling, but I also have a gift for you to remember me while I am away.” Grandmama said as she reached into her purse. As she rummaged around looking for her surprise, Y/N looked over her grandmother’s shoulder and made eye contact with a boy about her age. His clothing was dirty and not nearly as grand as what she was used to, but his eyes were a vibrant blue and his dark hair kept falling over them. He tossed his head and smiled at her, giving her a wink before one of their serving staff grabbed him and dragged him back to the kitchen. Y/N might have said something, had her grandmother not found what she was looking for at that very moment.

“Look, my darling. I had it made special just for you.” Her grandmother held a little gilded box. Y/N turned it over in her hands, examining it and trying to figure out exactly what it was.

“Is it a jewelry box?” She asked. Her grandmother laughed.

“No, my darling, much better.Look!” Her grandmother clicked a necklace into where a missing flower was and cranked it several times. Music began to play as the lid popped open. In the now open box, a miniature statue of Y/N’s parents dancing spun in circles.

“It plays our lullaby!” Y/N exclaimed as she swayed to the music.

“You can play it at night, before you go to sleep, and pretend it is me singing.” Her grandmother said with a gentle smile.

On the Wind/ Across the Sea/ Hear this song/ And remember/ Soon you’ll be/ Home with me/ Once upon a December.” Y/N and her grandmother sang together. Grandmama smiled again and handed Y/N the pendant that winds the music box. “Read what it says.”

“Together in Paris.” Y/N said, twisting her head to read the letters. “Really? Oh, Grandmama!” Y/N cried out as she throw her arms around her.

Suddenly, an evil laughter echoed through the room. Gasps sprouted from many corners as people realized who the newcomer was.

“It’s him. It’s the Joker.” Y/N heard a petrified lady whisper to her former dance partner.

Someone dropped their glass of wine and he took great joy in stepping on it to hear the glass crunch underneath his heel.

“Nice night for a party, Nicky. The only thing is, I find myself asking where my invitation is.” The green haired fiend said as he came to a stop several feet from Y/N’s father.

“You are not welcome here.” Nicholas growled, his face as hard as the marble they stood on.

“But I am your confidante! Your dearest friend!” The Joker purred as he stepped closer.

“Confidante? You are a traitor and a heathen. Get out!” Nicholas cried out, gesturing for guards to come and escort the man out.

“You think you can banish me? That’s rich. By the unholy powers vested in me, and all that good shit, I banish you with a curse to end all curses. You and, oh, I’d say your entire family? Yes, all of them. Will be dead within a fortnight. I’ll not be happy until I see your family line go up in flames.” The Joker laughed maniacally and gestured with the glowing green reliquary in his hands. A blast of green energy shot out and hit the chandelier. When the shock from watching the enormous decoration fall to the floor cleared, the Joker was nowhere to be found.

Nicholas did his best to calm the panicking aristocrats, but the celebratory mood was ruined. That night, her father sat Y/N and her sisters down and did his best to reassure them, but the unrest in the streets was obvious even to those who didn’t walk them.

Within two weeks, the gates to the palace were stormed and rioters broke down the doors. Y/N and her family scrambled to escape the murderous crowd, but Y/N fell back. She ran to her room and grabbed her music box. Her grandmother followed her and tried to hurry her to catch up with the others, but they could hear the soldiers outside. They would have been lost if not for the serving boy, the same one that had winked at Y/N that wretched night Joker cursed them all. He grabbed Y/N and her grandmother and opened a secret passage in the wall.

Y/N dropped her music box right as he was about to close the door, but he shoved her in and sealed the passage just as the soldier began to open the door. Y/N and her grandmother heard him deny what he knew, but they ran before they could find out if her survived.

They ran out of the palace and across the ice of the frozen river. Y/N heard that same terrible laugh and turned around just in time to see the Joker jump from the bridge onto the ice. It cracked beneath his weight and he began to sink. “Well, quite a predicament I have gotten myself into, eh, dearie? No matter! I’ll just have to take you with me.” He grabbed her ankle as he began to go under. Y/N kicked with all her might as her grandmother pulled her onto the bank. They ran before they could see his hands disappear into the frozen water, burying him in ice.

Y/N and her grandmother made it to the station in time to catch a train out of the city. Grandmama jumped on just as it began to move and she reached back to help Y/N, but the train was gaining speed too quickly for her to catch up.

“Take my hand, darling, please take my hand.” Her grandmother cried out as Y/N ran as fast as her legs could carry her.

“Don’t let me go!” Y/N cried out. She could feel her strength giving out as she gave one last ditch effort. With her final burst of speed, she lunged for the train and caught her grandmother’s hand, but it was not enough. She slipped and fell to the unforgiving wood of the platform. She heard her grandmother scream as her world faded to black.