#realised i'd picked the wrong subject and that i actually wanted to do art | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gracieryder · 1 month

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Hey! I saw your post about pururing's account, and that your post has been reblogged by lots of people who I pretty much always agree with (including you). So I went to the account's posts and scrolled down, expecting to roll my eyes, shake my head, etc.

But as I read the artist's and others' most recent responses, I started thinking about art forms like Kathakali (I'm South Indian) where face paint of different colours is used as narrative devices and to represent characteristics. If I were to represent a 9-1-1 scene in Kathakali style, I'd need to depict faces of certain characters with colours like white, yellow, black, red, etc depending on the character and their role in a particular arc. So an actor who is portraying someone of Asian descent might be shown with yellow paint on their face to depict not their race, but their gender.

The Western-gaze would see this as "yellowface" and offensive. But shifting perspectives and taking into account the background of the artform and the artist would clarify that this is a difference in context.

I don't know if there is a right or wrong here. If a show began in a Western context and depicts the Western context, does that mean Western audiences can demand that it never be depicted in contexts they're unfamiliar with? Do artists have to stay true to the context of the artform, or do they stay true to the context of the subject being portrayed? Even if this question doesn't have a binary answer, what's the difference between acceptable and unacceptable practices, and who gets to have a say in deciding that?

I just think that these are the more pertinent questions that need to be asked and discussed in this situation. By narrowing things down just to whether that artist was right or wrong without considering such nuances, I feel like we're all risking being smugly superior without realising that we're actually in a bit of an echo chamber.

Hi, anon! I want to thank you for this message. Truly. I do think we sometimes find ourselves in an echo chamber. It’s for that reason that I try to be careful when I make posts like that. I rarely reblog callout posts, and I rarely make them. This is the third one I think I’ve ever made, and I can’t think of any I’ve reblogged off the top of my head.

Callout posts to me only become necessary when you’ve exhausted all other options. And in this case, I only made it myself because it seemed as though those speaking out were being ignored – including people of color. I know that a lot of that has to do with how heavily some of those blogs block and how much they’ve been blocked in the past. So, I chose to make a post under my own name because I knew more people would see it. From what I understand, while a few people do have me blocked, I’m not widely blocked in this fandom. All that being said though, posts like this can still be incendiary and dangerous, and I don’t make them lightly. It’s why I tried to keep my explanation and language as mild as possible while explaining the issue at hand.

That being said, because I approached it in that manner, there’s a lot that the general public isn’t privy to just by scrolling that person’s account.

I’ll start with what you are privy to and how I think it’s different from the Kathakali style you refer to in your message. The defenses this person gave to their coloring choices have little to do with culture and more to do with style and perception. They pulled stills from the show in an attempt to explain the color palette they used, but as an example, in this picture here, Jee is clearly lighter than Maddie, her white mother. And you can see in real reference photos using these actors that this is not the case. That is just a fact.

They didn’t explain away this issue with cultural artistic differences. They explained this issue using pictures and color picking and defending their perception with some alarming messages in DM.

That brings me to some information you were not privy to. This is an example of one of the messages I was shown in private by someone who was trying to talk to this person one on one about everything going on here.

They state that they drew Jee that way because she’s lighter than her parents, which is just a bizarre and untrue statement to make - particularly in reference to Maddie. But then they went on to say she’s going to get lighter as she grows older. Even if that is true (which I don’t see why it would be because what?), it has nothing to do with her skin color now.

A lot of this artist’s work is limited to black and white sketches. But if they’re going to choose to add color to their work, it should accurately represent the people of color they're choosing to portray regardless of the artist’s own skin color.

I understand this is a different style of art than the art we normally see, but I don’t see how that would change the fact that twins that play Jee should not be portrayed as whiter than Oliver Stark and Jennifer Love Hewitt who are both white actors. It’s kind of a manga style from what I gather, but from everything I know about that, it shouldn’t have an effect on coloring choices.

And again, the artist themselves says they colored Jee lighter because they perceive her to be lighter and think she will become lighter. That is… problematic to say the least.

It is still complicated though because I think you’re right about Western vs. Eastern art forms and gazes. I really do. I’m a white woman from the West, and that skews my perceptions immensely. I try to understand things as best I can, but I’m not perfect, and I know I’ll make mistakes. But I do not see how the art form here makes the work immune to criticism.

What I know and what I knew before making that post was that there were enough people who were upset by it that it deserved being looked into. And then so many of those voices were being lost in the void that I wanted to do what I could to help. That may not have been my place. What I knew was that my voice would have a greater impact though, and so I used it.

I personally believe this artist to be in the wrong, especially after being shown some of the messages they sent in DM, but the question of what’s acceptable and unacceptable and who gets to have a say in deciding that is a complicated one. I normally wouldn’t feel I personally should have shared an opinion here at all because I’m white and from America, but when other voices are getting lost, what do you do? Do you stay quiet? Maybe I should have, but that’s not the choice I chose to make.

I do encourage everyone to look into the situation for themselves and make determinations for themselves, even if I put a bit of a spotlight on that person’s blog and voiced my own personal opinion. But everyone should definitely realize that what you’re seeing on the public blog isn’t all there is. Not by a long shot.

I really hope I answered some of your questions and that this made some amount of sense.

Please feel free to message me again on or off anon if you want to discuss it further or if you think I've made a mistake. That goes for anyone. My DMs are open.

#911 discourse #for the filters #anonymous #mist answers

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turnertable · 11 months

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can I say something controversial after we just got done celebrating miles and Alex reuniting?

I think Milex is a cute ship, it is, they are an adorable pair. their chemistry is very sweet and they are like soulmates you can tell, be that platonic or not in y'alls opinions. I personally don't ship it (always been a mattlex girly myself, platonically talking). I do feel at times y'all do focus on the wrong thing with Miles and Alex. some of you lot love defending Miles and how he doesn't deserve to just be associated with Alex but please and I beg you, tell me truthfully you know Miles from his solo work and not from TLSP. there's few of us, I think Miles is great and his music is good, I saw him before AM live FFS but no I wouldn't know Miles without Alex. It's just a thing that will always exist and it's unfortunate I know but it's true. I also think documenting and cherry picking at specific moments that have literally no correlation at all to milex romantic moments and making them oddly sexual is fucking odd. like I'll give you the d, I wish you would: that's an innuendo, that's funny and you can make that sexual cuz they did. they act like an old married couple at times. the lentils joke about their bad habits for example, it's cute and domestic. it's fic material. I understand that, trust me but like sometimes they are just on coke and giggling like little boys over like bringing bread and crumpets to the studio and that's not an allegory for fucking each other (an actual real post someone made). please it's odd and fetishism of two men who are straight. I understand that being gay is still a taboo subject for some people from more oppressive countries and maybe at 14 when you found AM, milex was your first introduction to shipping culture and men being shipped together, that would be exciting to you. However the nuances of that is that it can cross a line to a degree where you aren't respecting the two real people. I was in the Dan and Phil fandom before they came out and we had an era called 2012 where Dan especially was on the defense constantly to a point where it was a taboo to us to talk about but through time, that defense became more empathetic with them coming out. we all grew up and that behaviour from when we were kids was not ok anymore and that frustration was valid. I have many straight friends who have felt that pressure to be part of the LGBT community in order to not be shamed and on the flip side, I don't even need to tell you how hard it is still for lgbtqia people to want to hide in the closet with all the problems we still as a society have to face.

what I'm trying to say is, these are straight men and it's ok for straight men to be affectionate with their friends, I know it may still be frowned upon in some cultures but we wouldn't have am without a close bond between the lads. we wouldn't have TLSP without miles and Alex being best friends. i don't think milex is wrong, plz do what you want, draw your porn art if you want, write fics upon fics but plz just think about why this makes you so happy and understand the true consequences on what you say because you could be upsetting the gay community around you by being elated that miles can kiss his friend on the cheek. let boys love each other platonically or not, it doesn't matter. If Alex or Miles came out tomorrow, I'd support them, it's just something to think about.

Plus it's ok for teenagers and younger people to see what the boys do and want that, that's valid and I hope you have fun. There's a point where you may realise that something you said was a kid that you don't agree with and that's part of growing up, I know (hence the dnp rant). I see this now as an adult and think of that as crossing a line by prying at someone's sexuality cuz that's not mine to know and I don't know that person in real life. However if you are like a long time monkeys fan in your late 20s, early 30s, please consider what you're doing and re-evaluate what this means to you because maybe it's not just Alex and Miles that make you feel this way and that's not healthy: that's a parasocial relationship you've held for so long you don't know any different.

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helloalycia · 3 years

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The Wrong Lifetime – Three // Wanda Maximoff

chapter two | story masterlist | main masterlist | wattpad | chapter four

author’s note: i have nothing to say except enjoy!

Chewing on my bottom lip, I looked over the shelves at the different kinds of stationary the shop had to offer. I needed a new notebook and some ink since I'd ran low at home, so I decided to come into town to have a look.

A brown leather-bound notebook caught my eye and I picked it up, flicking through the pages. Sadly, they were too thin for my liking, so I replaced it and kept looking.

Moments like this were one of the few luxuries I had to myself, where my mother wasn't nattering in my ear about finding a husband and learning to do something useful other than writing, or where my brother wasn't overshadowing me in everything he did, making me feel even worse about myself. No, moments like this, I could just be.

"Y/N? Is that you?"

And there goes my moment.

Plastering a smile on my lips, I spun around and was surprised to see Wanda approaching me with an equally surprised expression on her face. She really was everywhere, wasn't she?

"Wanda, hello," I greeted as she stopped by my side. "It's good to see you."

She looked good, considering I hadn't seen her for a few days. Maybe once when she'd popped in to say hello to everybody before her date with my brother, but that was hardly a meeting. Now, she looked cheery, eyes sparkling with their usual excitement.

"You, too," she said softly, a smile creeping on her lips. Her eyes fell to my hands, where I was holding some ink. "Don't you have servants to do that for you?"

"Don't you have servants to do that for you?" I countered lightheartedly, eyes flickering to the vast amount of paintbrushes and paint in her arms.

She narrowed her eyes in a playful manner. "Touché."

Rolling my eyes in good nature, I asked, "So, what made you decide to go shopping?"

"I needed some new supplies," she quipped with an adorable smile, lifting her arms which were filled with said supplies.

"And you didn't think a basket would help?" I joked, before turning to grab a stray basket beside the shelves and helping her to put everything in it.

She chuckled, accepting my help, and answered, "Truthfully, I only came for the paint, but then I saw some new brushes I wanted to try, and then there were some new colours in stock and, well, before I knew it–"

"This happened," I finished for her with amusement, handing her the filled basket.

She took the basket from my hands and nodded. "Exactly. I would have sent my servant to get the paint, but last time I did, she came back with the wrong one."

"Oh, the scandal," I teased.

Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment and it was refreshing to see the shoe on the other foot. I guess I could see the fun in it now – no wonder she teased me often. Plus, she looked cute when she was caught off guard.

"What about you?" she countered, attempting to take the attention off her.

Content smile on my lips, I watched her. "What about me?"

She gave me an isn't it obvious? look. "I told you why I was here. What about you?"

I shrugged, looking back to the shelves. "I just needed some things... and I may or may not get excited when buying stationary."

Her melodious laughter filled the air. "Of course."

"I just don't know which to get," I told her, motioning to the notebooks. "There's so many options!"

She hummed with amusement, stepping by my side closely and reaching out to get a better look. I was acutely aware of her shoulder pressed to mine and tried to stop thinking about it, but obviously, once I told myself to stop thinking about it, it was all I could think about.

"How about this one?" she suggested, picking up a notebook wrapped in a burgundy-coloured sleeve. She was probably biased since it was her favourite colour.

I took it from her grasp as she held it towards me, feeling tingles at the tips of my fingers when they grazed her hand. God, I needed to get a grip.

Before I could look at the notebook properly, I noticed a smudge on her hand, subconsciously grabbing it before she pulled away. Flipping it over so I could see her palm, I saw several smudges of colour and stared with confusion.

"Paint," she explained, mildly embarrassed as she pulled away. "The stuff goes everywhere."

I hid a smile, finding it cute, before looking to the notebook again.

"I like it, but now to see the pages," I said, flipping through them to see if they were thick enough. I hated getting a notebook with flimsy pages that ink seeped through.

"Are they to your liking, your majesty?" she teased, and I looked up to see her tilting her head and watching me through her eyelashes.

"Yes, they are actually," I retorted with a childish glare, before closing it. "Thanks."

She half-suppressed a laugh. "Good. Let's hope it gives you some... vdokhnoveniye."

She paused, scrunching her nose in thought, probably searching for the right word in English. I was too distracted by how enchanting she looked when she did that to care about her struggle to find the word.

"Vdokhnoveniye is like inspiration," she explained, eyes looking back to me after staring up in thought, "but it's something better. It's from the word vdykhat', meaning to breathe."

"So, you want me to get a good breath from this?" I asked, quirking a brow with bemusement.

"No! No." She laughed, running a hand through her curls. "It's like... when you get inspired by something so quickly, as quickly as it takes to take in a breath. Never mind, it's stupid."

"It's not," I reassured her with an appreciative look. "I get it. Thanks. I like that. Russian is definitely a fascinating language."

She seemed glad that I made sense of her ramblings and I smiled, realising there was much more to Wanda than her ability to make me a stumbling mess.

"Have you got everything?" I asked her, glancing to her basket, before quickly adding, "What am I saying? Of course you've got everything. Practically half the store is in there."

She shoved me gently. "Not nice. But yes, I have everything."

I refrained from chuckling at her dismay before leading the way to the till so we could pay. As we took turns, the cashier made conversation with both of us. I knew of him because I'd been here enough times to make a friend, but I was surprised to see Wanda was the same. I was certain I'd never seen her here before. And I'd been here a lot.

When we finished paying, we began to head outside and I decided to speak my thoughts.

"You know, it's strange to think that we've both been coming here for a while and yet we've never crossed paths," I noted. "I mean, unless we have and just didn't know who each other were then."

She shook her head casually. "Oh, no, we haven't crossed paths. I'd definitely remember a pretty face like yours."

I paused, bewildered at her words as they took time to sink in. She seemed to notice as she laughed, holding the door to the shop open for me. I walked outside and she followed after me, eyes glancing at me satisfactorily.

"So, er, what are you doing now?" I changed the subject, recovering from my momentary shock.

She settled with a smile as she answered, "I'm in the middle of adding some finishing touches to a painting I'm working on. I'll probably head back to finish it."

"Ah, the paintings that you talk about but I've never seen," I joked, relaxing under her stare. "I'm starting to believe you're lying to me, love."

She rolled her eyes, though her smile widened, revealing a dimple by the corner of her mouth. "I'm not... You can come with me if you'd like. I don't mind showing you." When her eyes met mine, she quickly added, "If you're not busy, that is."

Humour disappearing, I nodded with surprise. "Sure. I'd love to."

And that wasn't a lie. I was curious to see the Sokovian's work since she seemed to enjoy talking about art so much. Plus, I could appreciate some good art when I needed to and I wondered if hers would fit the bill.

Or at least that's what I told myself when she flashed her dazzling smile my way, making my heart explode with adoration.

—

Just like me, Wanda didn't have a dedicated place to work from because her parents didn't deem her passion an appropriate hobby for a young woman in today's day and age. So, just like I did, she worked in her room and made the most of the space she had.

As soon as we took a step inside, I was amazed by how much stuff there was. Of course there was the expected – a bed, an ottoman, a wardrobe and a desk – but it was as if that was all secondary furniture to the main focus.

Closest to the giant window on the opposite end of the room were several canvases being supported by easels, some painted and some blank. Papers with sketches of literally anything you can think of were taped to the walls, some scattered along the floor and some scrunched up entirely, missing the bin.

Her desk was filled with jars of paintbrushes, oils, pencils, chalk and any other art supply I'd probably never heard nor seen of before. The place was messy, but not dirty. Her bed was made, the sheets as crisp as could be, her books were lined up neatly, her paintbrushes all had a perfect spot. It was clean, but it was a giant mess, and it was the most beautiful mess I'd ever seen. I refused to believe art was merely a hobby for her when it seemed like her room was dedicated to it.

"This is your room?" I asked with disbelief, eyebrows raised.

Clearly mistaking my amazement for critique, she dumped her newly purchased art supplies on her bed before rushing to pick up some loose papers and canvases from the floor.

"Yes," she squeaked, attempting to kick some papers under her bed as she straightened up sheepishly. "Sorry for the mess. Believe it or not, it does follow a system."

I laughed wholeheartedly, heading further into the space to where her makeshift studio was. "Wanda, you don't need to apologise. This place is amazing."

She snickered, glancing around at everything. "You think? I'd love something more – a real studio – but of course, women aren't supposed to have hobbies apart from pleasing their husband and hosting dinners every other week."

The last part she said with a hint of bitterness, clearly repeating what she'd been told before, no doubt by her parents. I was surprised by her vulgarity, but I wasn't in disagreement. She was absolutely right and it was such a shame because women were so much more than their husband. Too bad society would never see that.

"My father only allows me this... sanctuary," she finished with a sigh, before her hand rested on her desk. "It's not much, but at least it's mine."

"Well, I love it," I told her honestly, making her smile as she looked my way. "Can I look around?"

She waved her hand. "Of course. Nothing's off limits, but do be generous. My ego is easily bruised."

I chuckled at her joke and she flashed me another smile before grabbing her neglected art supplies. As I helped myself to looking around at her work, I heard her rustling around behind me and glanced her way, seeing her making herself comfortable on a stool before a particular canvas. I presumed it was the piece she was working on that she mentioned earlier and got back to my browsing.

She was extremely talented, not that I had any doubts to be honest. There were her bigger pieces, the extremely detailed ones, that she'd painted of grassy landscapes. Some were green full trees with falling leaves, some were cherry blossom trees with pink blossoms floating in the air, some were buildings overgrown with mother nature. I recognised none of them, but they transported me elsewhere like a nostalgic reminder of being a kid and playing in the garden with my mum. Even now, I helped her do the gardenening, but I'd never really appreciated my surroundings until I saw Wanda's work.

And those were just the huge pieces. She'd done sketches that were taped to the wall, to her desk, floating out of sketchbooks. Some were plans for bigger pieces, others were daily observations, all of her surroundings. She didn't draw people, I noticed, it was mainly scenery. But it was all stunning and it brought a smile to my lips as I imagined her producing all of this in her own little sanctuary, as she called it.

"You've been quiet for too long," she called out jokingly, after a while of me perusing her sketchbooks.

I looked up from my seat at her desk, seeing her focused on her painting, but an amused smile ghosted her lips. The sunlight from the window was hitting her perfectly at the moment, and even from where I was sat, I could see the flecks of gold shimmering in her eyes, matching the auburn streaks in her hair. The breath got knocked out of me momentarily, and I almost forgot that she'd said something.

Clearing my throat, I returned her smile. "I'm admiring your work, Wanda. You're bloody talented."

She lowered her paintbrush and gave me an incredulous look. "Tell me what you really think, Y/N."

I grinned, laughing slightly. "I am! I genuinely think this is amazing."

She pressed her lips together, still reluctant to believe me, but she nodded gratefully and returned her attention to her painting. I didn't fail to notice the pink spreading across her cheeks at the compliment, and my heart fluttered at the sight.

"Would you ever sell any of these?" I asked her, standing up and approaching her side to see what she was working on.

I noticed the addition of stray paint that had made its way to her hands and forearms and it made me smile. I don't even think she realised it was there.

She scrunched her nose up at the idea. "I've given some away to family friends because my parents made me. But no, I don't think I'd sell them." Something seemed to make her snort with amusement, then she said, "Nobody would buy them anyway."

I frowned as she sighed, her shoulders sagging at the thought. It was horrible to admit, but she was right. Female authors – questionable, but sure, they existed. Female painters? Let's just say that it was easier to be successful if you worked under a pseudonym and pretended to be a man. Which she clearly wouldn't do, or at least her parents wouldn't allow her to do. Sadly, Wanda Maximoff was in the wrong lifetime.

Hoping to cheer her up, I stood by her side and admired the strokes she made with her paintbrush. "If it's any consolation, if we were in another lifetime where I actually made money, I'd buy them."

She glanced at me, partially disbelieving my words, partially intrigued. "Seriously?"

I nodded with certainty, eyes flickering between hers and her painting. "Seriously. All of them. I'd buy every single one."

She looked away, swallowing hard, then a soft, barely noticeable smile appeared on her lips, and I was glad I'd said the right thing.

Focusing my attention on the painting again, I saw it was a stunning view of a stream, and the way she'd painted it made it seem like it was flowing off the canvas. Her last minute touches, adding white flecks of oil paint on the water, managed to bring the piece to life without any effort. I was amazed at how someone could make nothing turn into something so easily.

"Where is this?" I asked curiously, not recognising the scene, and also wondering where she'd gone for the inspiration since we lived in a busy town that didn't have water sources nearby.

She pointed to her head with the end of her paintbrush. "Up here."

"You made this up?" I asked, surprised for the millionth time since arriving.

"Uh-huh." She tilted her head to study the piece, whilst saying, "I usually paint what's in the garden. Sometimes what I see in town is good, too. But I really wanted to paint water, and apart from the constant rain we get, there is none. So, I made it up."

I was impressed at her ability to make up something like this, but also slightly confused. "Why don't you just visit Blackpool? There's a beach – water, sand, pier, everything. And it's not too far from here. You could make it a day trip."

She shrugged, distracting herself with dipping her brush on her palette. "I don't want to go by myself."

I probably should have recommended she visit with my brother. You know, the man she was engaged to? But my eagerness got the better of me, and I ended up saying, "Maybe we could go together. If you want."

She looked up, a slow smile forming on her lips. "I'd like that."

I mirrored her expression, nodding slightly. "Great. I'm sure we can arrange something. Promise."

She held my gaze for a second longer, saying, "I'll hold you to that, milaya," before looking back to her painting.

"What does that mean?" I asked suddenly, my mind clearly not controlling my words today. "You keep calling me it."

She chuckled, leaning forward to get a closer look at her work with her paintbrush. "Darling."

"Pardon?"

She shook her head, glancing at me with amusement. "No, Y/N. It means darling."

I swallowed awkwardly, certain my cheeks were as red as they felt warm. I wasn't sure what was more embarrassing – that I'd responded to her calling me darling when she hadn't, or that she'd been calling it me this whole time without me knowing. "Oh."

"Pull up a stool," she changed the subject, though my mind was still racing at her revelation. Had she called Y/B/N that? I couldn't recall. "I'll show you how to paint a little if you want."

Dazed, I did as she said whilst chewing on my lip with thought. She watched me, grinning from ear to ear, but said nothing. Was it normal for my heart to flip-flop in my chest like it was? I couldn't tell anymore. And when she grabbed my hand without saying anything, my hand felt like it was on fire with her touch.

The tip of her paintbrush swiped against my inner palm, her soft fingertips holding it up. Every area that her finger touched was burning, sending tingles up my arm and leaving me paralysed. Good thing I was sat down.

"There," she said like it was obvious. "Now you're an artist."

Blue eyes met mine excitedly and I gave her a small smile in return, hoping that these strange thoughts and reactions would disappear soon enough. Because this was definitely not appropriate.

—

My dreams were never anything worthwhile.

For someone who had a creative mind and could string sentences together to create a story I was proud of, my subconscious was the opposite. It was dry and boring and I rarely remembered my dreams unless they were scary enough to wake me up. But this time, this was a dream I was certain I'd never forget...

As with all dreams, I was unable to control what was happening. I was myself, observing from a first person point of view like it was real, but I had no control over my words or actions. Everything was predetermined, like a script I was forced to follow.

So, in this particular dream, I was sat in the back of a carriage, wearing a dress that was fancier than my usual taste. One hand was clutching my purse and the other was in someone else's hand, the person playing with my fingers soothingly.

"We're stopping now. Are you ready?"

It was Wanda. I had no idea why she was in my dream, or why she was leaning into my side comfortably, or why she was playing with my fingers like she did it all the time. I just knew that it shouldn't have been happening.

"Yeah, c'mon," I said with a smile, following my dream's script.

I intertwined our fingers and raised them to my lips, pressing a kiss to her palm. She smiled with adoration and allowed me to lead her out the carriage quickly. We were at the theatre and the first thing I thought was that my mind was creating a date similar to the one she shared with my brother. Oh, God, this wasn't good.

"Promise you've got the tickets?" she asked as we walked inside, hand in hand.

In my dream, nobody around us seemed to care that we were together, that we were two women showing affection and simply existing in a way more than friends. As wrong as I knew it was to dream of my soon-to-be sister-in-law like this, my mind was at peace, knowing I could be myself in my dream state. I didn't have to hide my identity and it was liberating.

"No, I decided to leave them at home," I answered her sarcastically, smiling.

She squeezed my hand and tugged me close, stopping me from walking any further. Her face scrunched together with a feigned annoyance.

"You don't need to be mean," she mumbled, eyes peering into mine, and my heart raced at the contact of her body pressed to mine.

Grinning, I pressed a kiss to her nose. "I've got them right here, love. Now let's go before we're late."

The dream didn't have a clear transformation. I just knew that one second I was staring at Wanda and the next I was sat beside her in the theatre, waiting for the lights to go down.

"Here," I said, passing her the programme for the show that was in my hand.

When I looked down at it, I was surprised to see a wedding ring on my left hand. Huh.

The lights dimmed when Wanda looked my way, green eyes bright in the dark. She shrugged, grabbing the programme and tossing it over her shoulder to the (thankfully) empty seat next to her.

"Looks like I missed my chance," she said, referring to the lack of light.

I opened my mouth to counter her words, but she didn't give me chance to as she pressed her lips to mine, hand raising to hold the back of my neck and pull me closer. Real me was freaking out, wondering why the hell I was allowing myself to have such thoughts about the girl who was going to marry my brother. And dream me was melting into her touch, shivering at her warmth and the way she began to suck my bottom lip.

"Wanda," I breathed out, pulling away breathlessly, but she continued to hold me close with a stifled grin.

"Isn't that why we got these tickets?" she said jokingly, eyes meeting mine.

My heart raced as she did, the simplest of glances making me weak in the knees. I was beginning to learn that her eyes were irresistibly beautiful.

"Right," I found my words, smiling in agreement as my eyes flickered to her lips.

They were painted red tonight, slightly smudged from the abrupt kiss she gave me, and I could only imagine the state of my own lips.

"We can watch the play now," she whispered, and I just about managed to tear my gaze from her lips to see the entertained look in her eyes.

I hummed in response, not trusting myself to say something comprehensible. Her lips curved into a smile and she linked our arms before settling into her seat, head leaning on my shoulder. I leaned mine on top, kissing the top of her head gently before also getting comfortable.

When I woke up, I didn't remember the rest of the dream, or know if there was a rest of the dream. I opened my eyes and found myself laying in my bed alone, tired and in the dark. It was still nighttime and my mind was foggy with fatigue. It took a moment for me to remember what I'd just dreamed. And then it hit me.

I liked my brother's fiancé.

#wanda maximoff au #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff imagine #scarlet witch imagine #scarlet witch #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen imagine #elizabeth olsen #marvel #marvel imagine #mcu

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ashisstrange · 3 years

Text

MASTERLIST

My oddly specific Nathan Prescott headcanons

After doing Warren it felt wrong not to do Nathan right away, since they're both my favorite characters in lis1.

I'll probably post a grahamscott hc post soon too, which will probably tie these two posts together a bit more (hint hint)

ps. the themes are kinda all over the place, sorry for that lol

‼TW: slight mention of suicide/sh in like two of the hcs‼

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• Listens to all kinds of music, but mainly classical, It's calming.

• 100% dog person, he wouldn't want to be found dead with a cat. Cats hate him just about as much as he hates cats.

• Has a tendency to wear the same clothes for long periods of time, without actually noticing that it's gross

• Man abuses the shit outta deodorant and cologne though so nobody notices. He only changes once Victoria points it out lol

• Him and Victoria are childhood friends, and their families are very close

• He has a facination for oldtimers (old cars). Which is the exact reason he has a beat chevy pick up instead of your average rich kid car

• Begged his mom to ask his dad for a chevy instead of a sports car

• Which brings me to: mommy's boy :)

• He loves his mom, even though he's ASS at showing it. He checks in with her at least once a week.

• Tends to start his day with two whales diner breakfast. If he doesn't go to the diner his day usually ends up being at least 25% shittier than usual. Maybe joyce just brings luck.

• A CHEM MAJOR ‼‼ (pls im 99% sure this is canon pls take notes)

• Has been interested in art and photography since he was a kid, but his father never praised him for his art. He wasn't allowed to attend art school in the end, so he opted on taking the chemistry course at blackwell

• He usually insults people when he doesn't actually mean it, and if you don't react to his insult angrily he'll probably apologise

• "The fuck you want u tard!?"

"I'm..... i'm sorry i didn't mean to call you that,"

• A s u c k e r for old movies and music, but doesn't really have anyone to watch them with

• He also enjoys horror a lot, particularly the gory kind (Think of japanese horror movies or for example the saw series)

• He owns the entire junji ito collection

• He likes to photograph subjects that are close to death or have been in direct contact with death, just so he can forget about how much he actually wants to die himself

• He gets anxious really easily, he tends to fidget a lot and struggle with sitting still (bouncing leg and picking at his fingers)

• Freckles!!! like all over his face and collar bones

• Overthinks like, everything he does/says

• Which is why he usually tries to not talk to people outside of his circle too much

• A sucker for disney movies, but he's never admitted that to anyone, not even Victoria. His sister knows, since they used to watch them together as kids

• Quite a picky eater, which is why he tends to stick with the same order for nearly every restaurant he goes to

• Can't really handle big changes well, so he sticks to the same people to hang out with and the same routine each day

• Can't sleep unless it's completely dark and completely silent

• Knows how to play the piano

• Doesn't use social media much, because he doesn't really need more negativity in his life than he already has. He only uses it to check Victorias page or online shopping

• He does enjoy his alcohol/drugs, but he knows his own limit (and he also clearly knows when he's purposfully crossing it)

• A complete sucker for stargazing, even though he knows absolutely nothing ab astrology

• Hangs out at the lighthouse a lot to cool down after a long week, smoke a cig and listen to some music after dark

• Hates physical contact with anyone he doesn't trust (which is practically everyone except like three people)

• regarless of that, he's very touch starved, so when he does get a hug he will like melt into it

• HATES summer with a burning passion. Probably also because it's quite hard to wear long sleeves and get away with it (plus its unbearably hot)

• Doesn't realise he has a resting bitch face lol

• He has one of those pine tree air fresheners in his car, hanging from the rear view mirror. Specifically the dark green one that smells like a forest.

• listens to music all the time, like while doing the most basic tasks. Mostly because music helps to drown out his thoughts (and possibly distract from hallucinations)

• His hands and feet get cold very quickly

(Comments are very welcome, i'd love to know ur opinion on my hc's :3)

#nathan prescott #lis #lis1 #life is strange #headcanon #nathan

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