is this considered pale

>Event: Forbidden to remember, terrified to forget. (10/20 - 10/31)

Today already started weird the second you decided to get out of bed.
You thought you haven’t woken up fully when you had the feeling your contact lenses began to disappear the second you put them in your eyes and you still managed to convince yourself that you were just tired when it felt like your teeth easily tore through your breakfast with no effort at all. Maybe in the haze of the still early morning little things seemed louder than they were before, easier to notice. You could only barely believe nothing is wrong when an hour after you had to run to the bathroom because your breakfast decided to make a reappearance.
Things only started getting actually weird when you examined yourself more closely in the mirror.

You guess the unusually pale skin makes sense, considering the circumstances. Are you getting sick? Also, is it just you or is your sclera suddenly having a poisonous stinging yellow to it suddenly?
And then the sun hits your face just the right way, not letting it glow but sparkle. Your skin is sparkling like a goddamn diamond.

Your eyes suddenly widen as the realisation hits you.

Tears like acid? Sharp teeth? Sharpened senses? Not being able to digest food? Pale skin, yellow eyes, sparkling skin in the sun?
And you turn around to see your back. No scars.

Oh no. No no no. This sounds too familiar.
You actually just became a shitty Twilight vampire.

Color Reference Guide to Recognize & Avoid Whitewashing

I’ve made a tutorial on how to color adjust to fix washed out coloringsbut I noticed people aren’t always sure when their coloring needs fixing in the first place. So I’ve made a bunch of colorings you can use to compare your own to. It’s designed to help avoid whitewashing, but also help avoid over-correction.

If you’re not a content creator, you can also use this guide for reblogging as well. :)

Using the Guide

  • Each set comes in three: cool, neutral, and warm. If your coloring is bluer/whiter than the cool tone, consider readjusting.
  • Examples of what might be too pale/bright are beneath each set
  • There are various categories (daytime, night scenes, etc) for each type of scene you might encounter
  • Each coloring has a color palette beneath for the highlights, midtones, and shadows of the character’s face. If you’re having trouble eyeballing it, use the eyedropper tool to double check.

1) For the sake of simplicity, I’ve used one character per category, but characters of color are not interchangeable. Identify the skin tone for the character you’re coloring and work with that. This is only meant to give a frame of reference for what is and isn’t whitewashing

2) If any of the colorings look different than what they’ve been stated as (i.e. the cool tones look too warm or some look way too dark to be visible) calibrate your monitor. It means your screen color and gamma needs readjustment.

Guide itself is under the read more!

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I Don’t Laugh

Prinxiety - [Prince (Fanciful Side) x Anxiety]

Summary: Anxiety claims he never laughs. [WARNING THIS IS A TICKLE FIC]

I love feedback! Critique is greatly appreciated!


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honestly, Izuku looks JUST like a combo of Toshi and Inko, which could lead to hilarious ‘people think Toshi is Izuku’s biological dad” shenanigans

like, his hair and Toshi’s are pretty much identical. if someone didn’t know better, one could easily assume it was the exact same texture. except for the bangs, which looks like they’re from Inko.

but Izuku’s color is all Inko. green eyes, and pale skin… that’s alllll Inko.

(which, considering genetics, Izuku having dark hair/eyes makes sense since it’s a dominant gene. there’d be little chance he’d get Toshi’s blonde hair).

plus, Izuku is already several inches taller than his mom, and it doesn’t look like he’s gonna stop anytime soon, considering how young he is. people think he got his slowly growing height from Toshi.

and, while Izuku got a lot of his personality from his mom, it’s obvious he got his recklessness from his dad. not to mention his analytical mind, determination, ideals of heroism, and his quirk.

once the idea that Toshi is Izuku’s dad gets out, no one ever disbelieves it. it just makes too much sense.

however, people do start to wonder where Izuku got his freckles from, since neither Inko or All Might have them. Inko, oblivious to the speculation of her and All Might’s relationship, always replies with “Oh, he got them from his father.”

so people just assume that All Might had freckles in his youth. it’s fairly common for Americans to have freckles, after all, and Toshi has very much an American influence. some even think that he might even have freckles now, but they’re covered up with make up or it’s just hard to see given how emaciated he is.

no one ever thinks that maybe, just maybe, Izuku’s father isn’t actually All Might. it just makes too much sense, after all. 

that feel when you hate vriska and terezi being in a moirallegiance because it’s the No Homo quadrant and kanaya and rose are right there in the Real Gay Love quadrant and it’s bullshit because now people refuse to read any of vriska and terezi’s interactions as romantic In A Gay Way (because apparently pale means “best friends” unless you’re equius and nepeta at which point it’s basically normal hetero romance without kissing) even though vriska and terezi being in love makes more sense when viewed through a human lens

but at the same time vriska has already had her Gay Awakening in the comic itself so you wager hussie couldn’t have been that hung up on these girls being exclusively into dudes, which leaves the impression that terezi has – much like kanaya – sequestered herself into vriska’s pale quadrant despite being in love with her. for kanaya it was because she was too shy to explain that her constant caring for and checking up on vriska wasn’t pale, and for terezi it’s because admitting she loves vriska is a truth she’s unwilling to face. both of these pale relationships mimic the strain and heartache of girls in love with other girls in the real world as well, and the way that we hold ourselves back out of fear (for different reasons – fear of rejection [kanaya] or an unwillingness to accept That kind of love is something we’re really feeling [terezi]) and it’s so fucking unfortunately relatable

especially considering vriska is actually Very Gay and desperately in need of validation and companionship, but lacks the social skills and self-esteem to seek those things out. kanaya and terezi, for all that they care for her, are still so terrified to breach the issue with vriska even though she would have been over the moon to find out they liked her romantically bc she cares about and admires both of them and is absolutely starved of positive love or affection in her life. vriska accepts these girls in pale quadrants because she doesn’t really consider herself a viable partner (to the people she’s always genuinely liked and respected the most) outside of a burden for a pale partner to take care of because she’s too awful to be honestly loved

but then you remember that there’s no way hussie actually thought any of this out and pale vrisrezi was probably just him meeting his fanbase halfway while still not committing to making two of his best and most memorable female characters gay

Imagine: Anakin getting flustered when he sees you

For @holy-chloe… Enjoy! I also made up a name for the reader, I hope that’s okay. The reader is also female.

“The two Jedi sent to protect you are here, m’lady.” One of your handmaidens said, dipping your head towards you and clasping her hands together. 

You smiled. “Thank you, Ditora.” 

The handmaiden looked up in surprise for a moment, as if shocked that you knew her name. She dismissed herself a second later, looking flustered as she joined with the other handmaidens.

Just then, the door to your bedroom opened and in stepped two men, one adorned in beige robes and the other, who was much younger, in black robes. Their eyes widened when they saw you approaching. 

“Princess Annix, it’s an honor.” Said the older one, dipping his head towards you. His golden fair hair fell over his forehead. “Obi Wan Kenobi at your service. This is my padawan, Anakin Skywalker.” 

Anakin, who looked incredibly pale, gave you a tiny smile and bowed, bending rigidly towards you. 

You bit back a laugh. 

“Please, you don’t have to do all of that. Bowing, I mean. I hardly consider myself royalty.” 

Anakin nodded quickly, his pale cheeks flushing red. 

“Sorry.” He muttered, staring at his shoes. 

Obi Wan caught your eye and smiled before leaning over to whisper something in his padawan’s ear. You turned around and got to work folding a few towels on your bed under the disapproving glances of your handmaidens. You couldn’t blame them. They were supposed to do all of the work for you, like straightening your bedsheets and collecting every bit of dust that formed on any surface in your bedroom, much to your dislike. You felt bad for the handmaidens, you truly did. 

“Anyways,” You chirped, looking back at the Jedi, “Where are you guys coming from again?” 

Obi Wan stepped forward, clasping his hands behind his back. 

“Coruscant, m’lady. The Jedi Temple.” 

You smiled, turning around and sitting on the edge of your bed. Anakin stood slightly behind his mentor, his eyes following you. 

“What’s it like? The Jedi Temple, I mean.” You asked. You had always wanted to go to Coruscant but since you were under the strict and watchful eyes of your parents, you were barely allowed out of the palace that you all lived in. It was quite a boring palace. Yes, it was incredibly beautiful and massive, with numerous rooms and gorgeous paints and priceless gifts from other planets. But when you’ve looked at all of that for the past eighteen every single day, it grows dull and boring. You had almost memorized the intricate patterns carved into the walls. 

This time Anakin spoke up. 

“W-well, the Temple is much like this palace. It’s massive and gorgeous, with c-countless rooms a-and several libraries and multitudes of people milling around it a-and, know that I think of it, the Temple is nothing like this palace. No offense.” He finished with a nervous laugh, his face reddening again. 

You smiled, studying the young man. He was about your age, maybe a little older. You couldn’t understand why he was acting so strangely, but yet again, you had only just met him. Maybe he was awkward around everyone.

Obi Wan looked slightly embarrassed with his padawan’s behavior and you saw him mutter something out of the corner of his mouth, but you quickly averted your gaze. Your handmaidens were giggling behind you as they folded towels but you snapped your hand up to silence them, something you had ever done before. The giggling ceased instantly. 

“How long will you be staying?” You asked the two Jedi, noticing how small Anakin now looked. A twinge of sympathy twisted in your chest. 

“About three weeks. Maybe even longer depending on how determined these bounty hunters are.” Obi Wan said, giving you a quick smirk. 

You leaned back on your hands. 

“Well I’ll certainly enjoy the company.” 


Request from @crystalbaby12 for a Jax x Reader using the following prompts:

#13 - “Looks like we’re gonna be stuck here for a while.”

#88 - “After everything…I’d still choose you.” - A/N - I left this one out as I didn’t know how to put it in. Hope that’s okay!

Originally posted by psicomana

“I can’t believe this shit.” you curse, pulling at the restraints on your wrist. Swearing loudly, you kick over a stool near your feet, the wooden chair smacking against the floor. You listen, waiting to see if your detainers come to see what the noise is about, but everything remains silent.

“I’m gonna rip his fucking heart out as soon as we get out of here.” Jax snarls from behind you, his back pressed up against the opposite side of the pillar. Even though you can’t see his face, you know his forehead is scrunched up in anger, the way it always does.

“If we get out of here.” you correct him, resting your head against the immovable post. “I dunno about you, but it looks like we’re gonna be stuck here for a while.”

“Now ain’t the time to talk smart.” he snaps, referring to your sarcastic tone. You roll your eyes, huffing in annoyance yet keeping your thoughts to yourself.

Minutes later, Jax sighs loudly, the silence broken by his now softened voice. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” you reply quietly, not knowing how much longer you’re going to be able to last, your back stiff and stomach rumbling from being kept hostage for well over a day now. “You think they know where we are?”

“I dunno, but we better hope they do.” You close your eyes, his response truthful yet lacking the hope you’re aching to hear. “Unless the club can somehow come up with half a mil in two days, we’re fucked.”

“Wow, great pep talk. I can see why they chose you for president.” you say, rolling your eyes. Jax brushes his hands up against your own, his restraints stopping him from holding your hand in his own.

“I’m gonna get you out of this, (Y/N).” he replies, determination in his tone. Tears prick at your eyes, heart heavy with panic, body heavy with fatigue. “I’ll never let anybody hurt you.”

“Bang up job you’re doing.” you sniff, your nose tingling as your vision turns misty, defeated tears falling down your cheeks. “I forgot, only you’re allowed to hurt me, yeah?”

You know it’s a low blow, the past between you and Jax still raw even though it’s been a good six months since you found out he was sleeping with Colette behind your back.

“You really wanna do this now?” he questions, his voice surprisingly calm, as if he knows you’re on the edge.

“What better time, Jax?” Your voice cracks as you say his name, frustration thick in your veins as you try to hold yourself together. “Might not get the chance after he slits our throats.”

“Jesus Christ!” He tugs at his restraints mercilessly, the pain in your voice like nails on a chalkboard, his skin crawling with red hot fury. You flinch as he shouts, more tears escaping from your eyes.

He remains silent for what feels like forever, the tension level high as you try to face the fact that you might not make it out of here alive.

Your head pounds as you cry silently, unable to bear the thought of never seeing your family again, or never seeing the club again.

“I argued with Tig before we got picked up.“ you start, your throat thick with emotion, the lump refusing to budge no matter how many times you swallow. “What if he blames himself?”

“Fucking stop it, (Y/N).” he warns, defiance in his words. “We’re not gonna die here.”

“How can you be so sure?” you argue, your bubble of hope completely deflated, your mind screaming at you to be realistic. “We live in the life, Jax. This sort of shit happens all the time.”

“Not to us, alright? This isn’t how it’s gonna end for you, (Y/N).“ Shaking your head, you wish his words could cut through the negativity in your brain. “I promise I’ll get you home safe.”

“Okay.” you agree falsely, tired of the same empty promises.

You feel yourself being shaken awake, the throbbing in your skull the first thing you feel once you begin to stir. Blurry vision focuses on Jax, a worried expression on his face as he studies you. “Shit, I thought you weren’t going to wake up.”

“What happened?” you ask groggily, your throat dry due to the lack of fluids. Taking in your surroundings, your eyes widen in horror as you spot the bleeding body near the door. “Oh my god.”

“Hey.” he calls, his cold hands cradling your face as he tries to direct your attention back to him. “It had to be done. Once I cut loose, it was either me or him.”

You know it’s true, though it doesn’t make it any less horrifying. Nodding, you try to blink away the black spots dotting your vision, cold sweats creeping up your body as you try to remain calm.

“Jax, I don’t feel right.” you complain, nausea sweeping over you in waves. Jax presses the back of his hand to your forehead, his icy touch bringing you temporarily relief. “I think I’m gonna pass out.”

You can barely hear him talk, his words muffled as a loud piercing sounds in your ears, beads of perspiration dripping from your neck down to your back. No matter how much you try to fight it, you feel yourself slump to the side, reality slipping from you as you lose consciousness.

The unmistakeable fumes of disinfectant fill your nostrils as your eyes flutter open, a white ceiling greeting you as you do so. A hiss escapes from your lips as you shift, the hefty needle hanging out of your arm being the cause. “Welcome back, sleeping beauty.”

You turn your head to the side, a smile slipping onto your lips at the sight of Gemma. “Gem.”

“I’m so glad you’re alright, sweetheart.” she mumurs, standing to place a loving kiss upon your forehead. The simple gesture brings tears to your eyes, relief flooding though you at the realisation that you’re back where you belong.

“Where’s Jax? Is he okay?” you ask, a million and one questions sitting on the end of your tongue. Gemma smiles knowingly, before nodding, a heavy breath leaving your lips.

“He’s been worried sick.” she says, squeezing your shoulder comfortingly. “I’ll send him in.”

A minute or so later, Jax slips into the room, your heart skipping a beat at the sight of him. His eyes look tired, though they spark once they land on you, his skin looking a little less pale. “How you feeling?”

“Alright, considering.” you respond quietly, pushing yourself to sit up as Jax sits on the side of your bed. “How long have I been out?”

“Couple hours. You scared the shit out of me.” he admits, running his fingers over his beard. You reach up bravely, taking his hand within your own, squeezing lightly.

“Thank you for keeping your promise.” He’s taken aback by your actions, not expecting you to greet him with such warmth. “I shouldn’t have doubted you.”

“I’m sorry I gave you a reason to.” he says, his eyes flickering to your lips before he clears his throat, pulling away. Leaning down, he places his lips upon your forehead, lingering for a few seconds. “I’ll leave you to rest.“

You wrap your hand around his wrist, stopping him from exiting. “Will you come back later?”

“You want me to?” You nod shyly, unsure where you stand with him. He raises his brow in surprise, before a small smirk appears on his face. “Then I’ll see you later.”

“Alright.” you reply lamely, a hopeful flutter in your chest that maybe you can work past the hurt, and maybe there is a silver lining to this situation after all.

A/N - Ahhhhh I’m really not sure how I feel about the ending of this but hopefully you guys like it! Thank you for being so patient, and thank you for reading❤ let me know what you think!!

richie x eddie

honestly this turned out a lot sadder then i thought it would, sorry about that ya’ll. i did really love this concept though, it really got me thinking..
thank you to @doodalia for the idea ❤️

“Do you have any idea where Richie Tozier may be?”

Eddie wasn’t listening. The police lady’s voice warped in and out of his ears, the final product sounding like radio static when it reached his brain. His mind was blank, and although he was looking straight at the man and woman dressed in blue before him, he felt like he’d also gone blind. 

Eddie could still hear the loud knock on the door vibrating through his head, his mind swimming with the image of a tall male police officer handing his mother a small sheet of paper through the open front door. His eyes couldn’t look away as the black and white picture of a brown haired boys stared back up at him, his smile grimacing through the ink he’d been printed with. His glasses sat on the bridge of his nose, and the large coke bottle lenses were definitely competing for size against the black font screaming from the top of the page; MISSING

His mind had stopped working completely after he’d watched the police officer utter the words; “Richie Tozier has been reported missing. We are under the assumption that your son was a friend of his, and we’d like to ask him a few questions?” 

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Batfamily x Reader - Warrior (Pt 1)


Requested: no

Song: none

Word Count: 1471


It was humid and dark outside around 3:30 am at Wayne manor, no stars shown through the thick clouds and smog. You would think that when it’s humid, the air would smell fresh and clean, but not here. The air smelled stale and compressed, like it was trying to suffocate you, but didn’t put in enough effort to actually succeed.

The house was quiet and dark, empty and silent. The halls were eerily quiet and no shadows were cast on the walls because the moon was buried deep behind the seemingly millions of layers of smoke. It was pitch black and silent, except for one room. The light in your bathroom was on and barely audible cries came out muffled through your hands as you sat on the floor next to the sink.

A razor covered in thick, red, fresh, blood sat in the sink along with all of your soul, poured out of your body with your blood, as well as your will to live, and by the bottle of pills spilled all over the floor, you already knew this, yet the house stayed silent, as if it was holding its breath, awaiting your next move.

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anonymous asked:

"It's only one night, we'll share the bed." + sterek pls!

Who doesn’t love bed sharing, am I right? I was originally going to write some makeup sex but I’ve been having trouble writing smut lately, so I skipped it. (also on ao3!)

“It’s only one night, we’ll share the bed.”

Stiles raised his head to pin Derek with a thoroughly skeptical look, cocking an incredulous brow at him from the other side of the mattress. He crossed his arms over his chest, blinking in shocked surprise at Derek’s infuriating nonchalant statement, barely believing his own ears.

He had heard some extremely ridiculous things throughout his nineteen years of life, from his days in high school where he spent time in testosterone-filled locker rooms to overhearing crazy stories from his dad about work. Not to mention all the insane stuff he had since he had stumbled into the shit show that was the world of the supernatural.

But what Derek had just said to him blew every other batshit crazy thing he had ever heard right out of the water. And he thought that nothing could ever top the time Peter told him that born werewolves had knots.

“Uh, yeah…” Stiles drawled, glancing back and forth between the bed and Derek, his eyes lingering on the soft looking pale blue comforter. Lifting his eyes from the bed, he turned back to Derek and firmly concluded, “No. I don’t think so.”

Derek blinked at him in blatant disbelief, completely taken aback by the fact that Stiles just shut him down. He tilted his head to the side, like a confused puppy, as he furrowed his brows, his forehead wrinkling.

“But you,” Stiles began cheerily, pointing a finger at Derek’s chest with a forced, almost mocking smile, “can sleep on the floor.”

“Oh, c'mon, Stiles,” Derek sighed heavily, rolling his eyes theatrically as he slumped his shoulders. With another sigh, Derek looked over at Stiles, clearly unimpressed with his proposition. “Don’t be an asshole.”

Stiles scoffed. He blinked a few times at Derek, not bothering to dignify his statement with an immediate response.

He ran a hand through his messy hair, biting the inside of his cheek as he valiantly tried to refrain from outright snapping at Derek. Ultimately failing, he grit his teeth and announced, “You can either sleep on the floor or sleep in the car because the bed is mine and I’m not sharing it with you.”

Derek didn’t seem too amused by that. He curled his lip in a silent snarl, alpha instincts rising to the surface at the fact that he was being ordered around so casually.

He crossed his arms over his chest, mirroring Stiles’ position as they glared at each other over the bed, neither one of them willing to concede. It went against both of their natures to be the first one to bend in an argument.

Eventually, after several minutes of silent staring at one another, Derek leaned over to pick up his duffel bag from where he had set it on the floor. Stiles puffed out his chest in triumph, letting out a self-satisfied hmph as Derek scooped up his bag, a smirk lifting the corner of his lips.

His smirk vanished and his chest deflated when, rather than take his bag and leave the room to go sleep in the cramped backseat of the Camaro, Derek simply tossed his bag into the bed. Completely ignoring Stiles’ palpable outrage, Derek unzipped his bag and started rifling around inside, pulling out a change of clothes and a toothbrush.

He laid out a pair of pajama pants and some black boxer briefs, setting them on the foot of the bed. Placing his toothbrush and a travel size bottle of mouthwash on top of the pants, not looking up, he informed Stiles, “You can have the shower first. And be quick, it’d be nice if you saved me some hot water for once.”

Stiles gaped at Derek, furious beyond words. He dropped his arms to fist his hands at his sides, sure that he was about to have an aneurysm he was so angry.

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Okay I can probably understand people lightening Lila’s skin because the lighting and texturing in the episode is so weird her hair doesn’t even stay the same shade HOWEVER

how the fuck can you blatantly whitewash Alya????

she’s literally Martiniquaise which if you don’t understand geography (and French empire) is in the friggin’ Caribbean

There’s nothing more painful to me here than art that whitewashes dark skinned/POC characters

The Hesitant Zones

“I want to ask you something.” Trench told her roommate. Not-Chad sat on his bed, contorted beyond human limits, his shining eyes (green and blue like stormy arctic sea, without pupils or irises) unblinking,producing sounds that should be impossible for any type of  mouth (or machine) to produce. He was holding flowers and cookies Joshua from second floor brought him, so she supposed that was cooing.

Chad was gone for half year already, which was honestly all well by Trench. He never cleaned the room, and always brought his loud, annoying friends over. She had no idea why he was taken, and didn’t care. Not-Chad was clean, great help with homework and even since he moved in, Joshua, who was one of best chemistry majors on whole campus ever started helping her with her projects- she thought he would bail out once he learnt what Not-Chad was, or Not-Chad would curse him, but changeling lavished in pathetic romantic wooing and Joshua stopped wearing iron, so Trench counted herself lucky.

“I guessed so. You brought me thirteen raspberry tarts yesterday.So what zones do you want to talk about?” Again, luck had rained upon her. Trench was forbidden major, as were many biologists, but smart one. She didn’t try to figure out how fae worked-she doubted something like that was even possible with magic. Instead, she gathered information about their world and customs, by giving fae treats in exchange for stories.

Fae saw nothing wrong with that. They got presents in exchange for talking about their favorite subject-themselves. They would talk, and Trench would separate pearls from useless chatting. Not-Chad happened to be quite talkative fae (some sort of shape shifting merman, she found out) who didn’t waste words on useless information. In exchange for cakes, he would tell her about structure of his universe, The Elsewhere itself. For sake of metaphor, and because she was marine biologist and he sea fae, they called different regions of Elsewhere zones.

“About hadopelagic, demersal and benthic.” Not-Chad froze, and turned towards her, his glamour flickering so she could see his toned chest, silver skin, gills and long  bioluminescent hair.


“You heard me. Spit it out..”

“What are you talking about?”

“You said that Elsewhere is like ocean. That it has just as many zones. That each zone contains stronger powers, that each one is less defined and more deadly to lesser beings. But abyssopelagic zone isn’t bottom of ocean. There are three more. So what dwells there?” Mesopelagic and bathypelagic zones contained things that didn’t bow to Courts, creatures best described as sentient archetypes and natural personifications, godlike fae who could freeze and burn and shatter the whole world. Abyssopelagic zone contained True Royalty.

She couldn’t imagine what horrible, mad things existed beyond them. But she had to know.

“No.  All food in world wouldn’t be enough for such information. You could bring me everything edible in world and it wouldn’t be enough.” He wasn’t joking, Trench knew and paled. Fae considered many things edible. Cakes, infants, diamonds,dreams, radiation.

“What would be?”

“No.” He trembled as he whispered that word, too caught in imagining what he knew and wouldn’t give her. That information would bring her fame, and more importantly, save so many lives. If they knew more about fae, they could protect themselves better.

“You will tell me.” Not- Chad’s teeth became those of shark, and mist surrounded him as glow of his eyes intensified.


“Nor will you harm me, Innglu-Sakkan.” She spoke, and  Not-Chad fell on floor upon sound of his Name.


“A birdie gave me that name for a price.” He snarled, his spit red like corals.

“ Sentry-Mary!” He spat out.

“Yes.” Trench confirmed with smile upon her face. “They gave me this sweet name in exchange for my hesitation. Such a bargain.” Fool, Not-Chad thought.Hesitation gives conscience, holds base instincts in check, brings terror and caution. It is child of fear and wisdom, and you need to lose both to lose hesitation. It saves lives. And souls.

“Now, if you don’t tell me what I need to know, I will have you kill your pretty boy toy.” Old Trench would have never demanded that. But Trench had no fear, no doubt anymore that she was right.

“His roommate is very embittered knight. Hates your people. And so gullible. But big iron mace. I will just need to sob, and order you not to properly defend yourself, and I won’t even need to order you to keep your mouth shut. You could spill all beans and she wouldn’t believe you. Your friends won’t protect you because you broke Treaty.”

Fool, he thought. Giving names of their rivals to humans was discouraged and frowned upon, but not forbidden. Sentry-mary would keep quiet, but once word got out that he was gone, they would connect dots and go to Court. Trench and Joshua’s knight would be nothing but petals on wind.

“How do I know you won’t get rid of me either way?”

“You don’t. But I have no need to dispose of you. You are far more useful as source of information. Now free.’‘ 

’'This information won’t come free. There are laws even power of Name cannot overrule. You need to give up something to know about Great Ones.”

“Very well. What?” She said with frown. Old Trench would have considered it.

“There is somebody I want to protect.They are my… ..” He spoke some word her ears couldn’t process. He sometimes did that, when word couldn’t be explained by any human language. “ That child is very dear to me. Promise me they will always have place withing your family, as equal as yours.” You will be gone, forgotten by world, and creature of myth and dream will take your place, and none will know.

“That is all? I accept. Now speak.” Old Trench would have understood, would have gotten meaning of words.

“There are indeed three more zones, or layers as some call them.‘He cried as he spoke. Whisper released power that rattled Trench’s bones and echoed across all fae in world. Silence deeper than that of space filled room, and all light was extinguished, and Trench could feel water pour down her throat as hundred fae rattled door and windows ( it wasn’t salt and iron that stopped them. None may interrupt until information about Royalty was given out. After…). had Trench still any hesitation left, ounce of fear and wisdom, her heart would have been filled with such dread that it would have given out (yet she could feel shadow of horror, but ignored it).

’'They too are inhabited by the Great Ones. they aren’t nobles as you know that word, or we for that matter. They are  enormous, and unreal, and too powerful for your reality to contain. They play no games and fear  no charm. They are predators, and like ocean, they take what they want when they want how they want.  They swim and devour, and only beware of those  who are bigger, stronger than they. All of us bow to them, and only time they join with each other is when they form packs to tear stronger foe to pieces.

But for sake of metaphor, think of it like this. Abyssal zone is for princes, and archdukes, and despots. Hadal is for high kings,devarajas and pharaohs. The demersal zone is for emperors, tsars and great chiefs.” His kinsmen break through, army of shadow too many of them to fit in room yet they all do.

“And benthic? What creatures dwell there?” Trench asks, uncaring of cold fingers that grasp her limbs.

“A creature, or perhaps the creature. You have your God. We have our Queen, the Queen of Queens, She Who Dreams.”  He says as strong jaws bite down on his shoulders.

“What does she dream?” Trench asks, not even noticing claws that rip beneath her ribs (but she notices alien, uncaring light streaming in through window, stronger than that of Sun, and her blood knows fear again).

“Stars and oceans. Life and death. Destiny and desire. You and me.” Changeling speaks as shadows devour him.

“She dreams everything.”


keelan-666  asked:

Reading Percys camp report makes me wonder if other campers are kind of scared of Percy being on the archery range considering he has apparently shot other campers by accident.

Ariana went pale, mouth dropping into a frown halfway through a sentence. “Oh, no.”

“What?” Zach spun around sharply, searching for the cause of her distress. “What’s up?”

“It’s -”

“Hey, guys!” Percy Jackson stopped in front of them, quiver over his back and tenuous smile on his face. “You ready for some archery practice?”

Zach unintentionally took a step back, and Percy’s face fell. “Oh, hey, Perce. You’re, uh, you’re doing archery this morning? With us?”

Percy nodded, fiddling with the edge of the bow he was holding. “Yeah, Chiron said I should get some extra practice in, so…”

“Oh,” Ariana said. “Great.”

“Yeah…” Percy’s eyes darted to the side, and he raised a hand in a wave to someone over Ariana’s shoulder. “Sorry, I’m just gonna go say hi to Will.”

“No problems, man. Good to see you.”

“Yeah, you too.”

As soon as Percy was out of ear shot, Ariana leant over and said, “At least Will’s nearby for when he shoots someone.”

“Let’s go up the other end just in case.”

“That didn’t help Ben,” Ariana countered.

“Yeah, well.” Zach started walking towards the other end anyway. “At least it’s closer to the infirmary.”

earth angel

synopsis: hansol is a greaser in 1950s america with the classic slicked-back hair and black sunglasses to match. he may a bit more genteel than he lots on, however (。’▽’。)♡

genre: fluff

word count: 1,979

“I’ll get it, Ma,” you called, pacing down the hallway to your front door. Whoever was on the other side was getting impatient, as they knocked again. “Coming!”

It was a Friday night in October. Mid-term exams were fast approaching, so you were spending the evening in a cramped corner of your bedroom with your nose stuck in your chemistry textbook. The faint audio of I Love Lucy re-runs drifted out of the living room and your mother had all the windows in the kitchen opened wide to let out the suffocating steam from dinner. You straightened the basic crew neck you were wearing before swinging open the door.

“Hansol,” you hissed, hastily stepping out onto your front stoop and closing the door behind you. You subconsciously looked over his form: his jet-black gelled hair, the fitted blue jeans beneath a flattering white t-shirt covered by his everyday leather jacket. The leather of your Converse shoes touched the tips of his pointed, laced shoes of leather as black as his jacket. “What are you doing here?”

“That’s no way to greet me, baby,” he chuckled. He reached out and ran an index finger along the collar of your sweater. “What are ya wearing this for?”

“What do you mean?” You exhaled in disbelief, a fiery blush overtaking your face. “If my parents see you, I’ll be hang–”

“Did you forget about the sock hop?” He interrupted. You grimaced at him tilting his head toward his right shoulder with that all-too-familiar smirk playing on his lips.

“Didn’t forget, I’m just too busy studying.” You jabbed a finger into his firm chest. “And you should be, too. Besides, I never said I would go with you.”

“Aw, don’t be like that,” he pouted. You watched his fingers play with the zipper on his jacket. “All the guys have fine young ladies with them and I’m not about to be left out.”

“Oh, so you want an ornament,” you laughed sarcastically. “I heard Mary-Tom’s free tonight. Why don’t you drop by her place?” You reached for the doorknob, but his hand, a bit cold from the autumn air, caught your arm.

“Didn’t mean it like that, Y/N, you know I didn’t.”

You stared at him contemplatively, and he stared right back. You had known him for years, been in homerooms with him from grade to grade, but he had never taken any real interest in you like he had with some other girls. His friends knew you well, and you enjoyed their company, even if it usually did mean mischief. You looked over his shoulder, eyeing the sleek red convertible sitting idle.

“I’ll go tell my parents a fib or two. Meet me at the intersection of Seventh and Fairgood in twenty.”

He grinned emphatically, knowing he had gained this small victory, and swaggered back to his convertible. “See ya, babe.”

“Don’t call me that.”

He could only laugh as he slipped his sunglasses on his face and drove away.

You bobbed your head along with the rhythmic tapping your ghillie shoes made on the pavement of the sidewalk. The white-cotton socks beneath the dainty laces prevented the sides from digging into your feet. You wore a black sweater and a pale blue circle skirt; you considered wearing your new poodle skirt, but you put it away at the thought of making Hansol’s ego any larger. You had to sneak past the kitchen and living room, as you certainly were not dressed for a study session at Mary-Tom’s like you had claimed.

Finally, the bright reflection of red in the sunset’s light caught your eye on the street corner and you climbed into Hansol’s passenger seat. Per usual, Billie Holiday’s sweet voice was flowing through the speakers. He whistled at your outfit and reached across you to put your seatbelt on for you. “Y/N, don’t you look right fine.”

“Oh, quiet,” you giggled, suddenly unable to look him in the eye. “Not to be a party-pooper, but I have to be home by ten.”

“Not a problem,” he hummed, changing gears and smoothly flying up the street. He flung his right arm across the seat behind you and gripped the cream steering wheel with his left hand. 

“I’m glad you haven’t lost your love for Billie Holiday,” you commented, fluffing up your hair with your hands.

“Oh, I listen to a bit of everything. Seungkwan told me you bought some Sinatra and Presley records the other day.”

“Yes, I love them,” you grinned. He looked at you fondly, amused at your excitement. “No doubt they’ll have some Elvis on tonight, huh?”

“Let’s hope so,” he said. He parked on the street next to the school, as the parking lot behind the gymnasium was filled to capacity with hot-rods and groups of students standing around. Hansol got out and chivalrously opened your door before offering his arm. You linked your forearm around his any marched into the gymnasium at his side.

“Hey, Hansol!” Seungkwan and Chan immediately called out. They were both more of the prep type, so they wore simple sweaters and khakis with brown Oxfords to match. Or they would have been, if their shoes didn’t line the walls along with all the others. You and Hansol stepped out of your shoes and walked across the polished wood-plank court to greet them.

“Hey, you two,” you smiled, waving at Seungkwan and hugging Chan. Hansol side-eyed Chan but said nothing. “How are you?”

“Just waitin’ for this thing to get started,” Seungkwan groaned, reclining against the painted brick wall. Chan nodded in agreement, popping the gum in his mouth.

“Where are your dates?” You inquired, spinning around to scan the room.

“Probably swarming around Seungcheol and Jeonghan,” Hansol interjected, receiving a punch in the shoulder from Chan. Sure enough, Seungcheol and Jeonghan were in a corner surrounded by ten or so girls.

“No matter,” you reassured them. “We’re all just here for a good time, right?”

All of a sudden, Elvis’ “Jailhouse Rock” came blasting out of the standing speakers. The huge room erupted in cheers, with guys scrambling to sweep up their partners. Hansol led you close to the middle of the crowd, holding both your hands firmly and swinging along with you in circles. Your laughs were drowned out by the music and all you could focus on was Hansol’s row of white teeth. He pulled you closer so you could hear him: “You’re good!”

“You have no idea how many times I’ve done this by myself in my room,” you admitted, and you were glad to see him laughing at your embarrassing confession. You shook with mirth when Hansol picked you up and spun you around, much to the excitement of Seokmin, who was dancing near you. 

“’Atta boy, Hansol!”

Hansol’s usually reserved personality melted away while he kicked around with you. The music switched to Dean Martin, then Ella Fitzgerald, then Buddy Holly before the two of you were so tired that you had to step aside for a bit.

“You glad you came?” Hansol cocked a brow at you as he handed you a cup of lemonade.

“It’s so much fun. Thanks for forcing me to come,” you winked at him. He nodded happily before swiping his thumb along your chin.

“Lipstick,” he explained, showing you the pink on the pad of his thumb.

“Th-Thanks,” you stammered, casting your eyes to the floor. 

“Y/N!” You heard a familiar voice call out to you. You turned to find Seungcheol jogging up to you, a glossy comb spinning through his fingers. His hair was pressed to the sides of his head with ungodly amounts of gel and the rest was piled on the top and swooped back. He had a jacket similar to Hansol’s, but his was obviously scuffed.

“Hi, Cheol,” you said. “Aren’t you a sight?”

“Not nearly as much as you!” He teased. “Can I borrow her, Hansol?”

Hansol peered at his friend over the brim of his cup before looking to you. You shrugged. “Go ahead.”

Seungcheol pulled you over to next to Jeonghan and shuffled along with you to Glenn Miller’s “In the Mood.” You looked over you shoulder to find Hansol chatting with Seungkwan again, your discarded cup on the table next to him.

“That is one unhappy boy,” Seungcheol remarked to you over the music. 

“What? Why?”

“Oh, you are one square girl!” Seungcheol cackled, twirling you around. “Hansol has had eyes for you for goodness knows how long. Put the poor boy out of his misery, Y/N.”

“You’re kidding!”

“Not in the least bit. Elizabeth and Mary-Tom were just distractions.” He got closer and wiggled his brows. “You’re the real prize, doll!”

The song ended and you smiled to Seungcheol before taking your leave. He went off to prey on another unsuspecting girl while you made your way back to Hansol.

“It’s getting late,” he told you, pulling back his sleeve to look at his watch. “You wanna head home?”

“Sadly, I think that’s a good idea.” You waved to Seungkwan, Chan already having gone off with another girl. “I think Patricia was looking for you, Seungkwan!” He disappeared immediately.

The brisk night air fanned over your burning cheeks as Hansol held the gym doors open for you. You thanked him and took his warm arm again to head back to the car. 

“Thanks for coming along, Y/N,” Hansol said. His thumb stroked your sleeve. You glanced up at his face to see a soft gaze and the faintest of smiles. Beneath all the leather and car paint-jobs, he was nervous and grinned like mad when he thought you weren’t looking.

“Not a problem,” you repeated what he had said earlier. “You’re a fantastic dancer. You should go to the studio club on Graham Street with Chan sometime.”

“Only if you went with me!” He shook his head. You waited as he opened the door for you and walked over to his own side.

The drive home was pleasant and helped cool you off. Hansol sang along to The Penguins’ “Earth Angel” in a bass tone that made you laugh until your sides hurt. “Wow, and you can sing too.”

He parked two streets over from your house. You watched him turn off the ignition and the headlights fade over the blacktop.

“I hope that was better than some chemistry textbook for you.”

You unbuckled yourself so you could slide to the middle of the adjoined seat and into his side. You could see the way his cheeks burned even in the pale moonlight on the deserted street.

“Of course.” With that, you pressed your palm to the side of his neck, your thumb resting on the soft spot behind his ear, and kissed him gently. He was obviously surprised, but quickly reciprocated, pulling you closer with his left arm while the other encircled your shoulders. You could taste the tangy lemonade and smell his musky cologne. Time escaped you and the both of you only pulled apart when you were aching for air.


He stopped when you reached up to wipe at the right side of his mouth. “Lipstick!”

Smiles broke out on both of your faces before Hansol helped you out of the car and walked you up the street. “Phone me when you get home, earth angel.”

You practically ran home, the warmth in your chest and the tingling of your lips seeming to spread through your whole body. The light on your front porch was visible from down the street, and you skipped up to the door, praying your parents were already upstairs.

Luckily, the house was silent save the television murmuring The Tonight Show. You waited for about ten minutes, pacing about the living room, before spinning around the numbers on the rotary phone.

Hansol answered after just two rings. “Y/N, we going steady or what?”

Work Hard Play Hard - Dylan O’Brien [Smut]

Authors: The #SinSisters @writing-obrien and @stilinski-jpeg

Character(S): Dylan O’Brien/Reader

Word Count: 3719

Notes: Oral (female receiving), shower sex, heated public make-out, slight public groping. Generally just really hot. Also, thanks to @dumbass-stilinski for proof-reading this for us.  

Originally posted by imaginingobrien

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I understand bettas not being everyone’s cup of tea but I feel like a lot of people who say immediately that they dislike bettas really haven’t seen all the bettas that the genus has to offer! There are 73 recognized species, and while the domestic one is full of issues, the others are in general much healthier.

As well, there is truly a betta species for pretty much any kind of tank. Brackish? Try a mahachaiensis. Hillstream? Say hello to stigmosa. Want something that wants really acidic water? Meet simorum. What about one that’ll do just fine closer to room temperature? Enisae is the fish for you.

How about some fancier colors? If you like red, consider a burdigala. Midas has a stunning pale gold color. Channoides ranges from black and red to orange and red, with some bonus white. If you like iridescent, try a smaragdina or an imbellis!

It is okay to not like bettas, or not want to own them, but don’t discredit and entire genus based solely on the domesticated, pet store betta.

anonymous asked:

What are some examples of racism in Sense8? I am still at the beginning and for now I find the fact that everyone is talking English with an accent instead of their languages very irritating

Ok so this is by no means a complete list (I’m only 6 episodes in) but here’s a few things I’ve noticed (there’s a TL;DR under the read more). Granted some of these may be resolved by the end of the series but right now this is what bothers me.

You are completely right in noticing that everyone is talking English with an accent instead of their languages. let me elaborate on why this is annoying. If you watch with the subtitles on you’ll notice that at some points they use the subtitles to say, “in Swahili,” or “in Korean” which basically acknowledges that yes they don’t want to make their audience “work” to make out the English. That is a fundamentally ethnocentric view to take and its compounded by the fact that because the show has such a diverse cast they could have conceivably made it so it was equal in its focus in different regions.  This wouldn’t have been just a “Western hemisphere” show it would have been a show that literally spanned the world. 

Furthermore they specifically use languages other than English when the audience is meant to be confused and using the subtitles then. why is this an issue? Well think of it this way, it makes English the common language when they can actually feel each other.  Making English the default heightens the xenophobia most Americans already have towards foreign languages. For example, I’m bilingual, if Lito’s parts were all in Spanish I would have understood all the parts that were in English and Spanish. Reading the Korean, and Swahili would not have been a huge burden at all and others who are fluent in those languages would have felt more included.

Moving away from the languages bit here’s a short list of other instances of racism:

  • Where’s Caephus? Here’s the imdb screenshot

Here’s Caephus’ trailer

Admittedly this might be an oversight but I want people to complain to imdb. He’s fucking brilliant ok? And as the only man of color in the central group (I’m sorry Naveen Andrews’ Jonas doesn’t count as a central character) he deserves to be credited!

  • Lito Rodriguez is played by Miguel Angel Silvestre a Spaniard (that is a white Spanish born European) and he’s not Latinx. This is an important distinction because any Spanish born person who’s white only experiences occasional xenophobia in the US. They don’t have the added burden of being latinx. And in Latinoamerica Spanish born people have automatically been chosen to rule over the mestizos/mixed people.  Because they’re white.  
  • In colonial era Mexico being born to Spanish parents classified you as a criollo, (which is to say that there was a caste system in place that prioritized white Spaniards and their offspring over anyone else) and just for context this caste system was in place until at least my father was in school in Mexico.  So they basically cast a white European to play a Spaniard telenovela star which is by default a latinx industry basically following the white supremacist formula established when Columbus came to the “New World” white people ruling in PoC countries.  

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best night ever

- ( harry x reader x simon )

request —
imagine where it’s Harry’s bday party and he’s drunk so he kisses you but your boyfriend Simon catches you two and becomes jealous so he brings you upstairs and “”“"smut”“”“! pls?

warning —
smut warning ! 4.8k+ words.

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