#also barry's arm hair for ref

[gomzdrawfr]

hiya darlin'

alt + ref:

inspired by 661ave's Price edit

Pose ref from Transatlantic(2023) | Cory Michael Smith as Varian Fry

[troupeofstars]

Barry Xantrani

art by WAB

Toyhouse Profile

Name: Baerithryn (Barry) Xantrani Titles/Nicknames: Barry Goldpocket, Jackass of trades

Race: Half Sin'dorei, Half Human Gender: Male Pronouns: He, him, his Age: Looks young adult Birthday: February 13 Height: 173 cm ( 5'8" ) Weight: 77 kg ( 170 lb ) Body Build: Built athletic Pinterest: Link

Orientation: Pansexual Status: Married

Home Town: Booty Bay Current Location: Traveling Occupation: Merchant, Pirate, thief, First mate to the "Ocean's Lust" Class: Pirate

++ || Charismatic • Liberal • Adaptable == || Adventurous • Goofy • Mellow --- || Conniving • Immoral • Argumentative

Best Trait: Perceptive Worst Trait: Impatience

Likes: Blueberries, jewelry, bugs, performing arts, gold, coins, blankets Dislikes: Darkness, cheese, board games, alcohol

Favorites: Color/s: Gold, Maroon, Hunter Green Scent: Beach, Weed Food: Blueberries, Dim sum Drink: Rum and soda

Family: David | Father ( deceased ) Hycis | Mother ( deceased ) Lin | Childhood friend ( recently deceased )

Barry was raised in Booty Bay, but hoped over to Ratchet more than enough times when it was a bit bigger than three feet. He learned the way of beggars, thieves and the hungry, The rich walked with their noses up and his kind starved. Due to lack of attention during his teen years and running around as an orphan, Barry has a real lack of morals. Don't get him wrong, he's emphatic but he's not sympathetic. He will fake it until he make it, appearing weak for others to gain his trust but to only to steal from them. Why be alive if you can't have a little bit of fun?

Barry is a neutral character; in no means does he pick sides in the war. He fights for himself.

He is not part of the war, often chosing to do merc jobs for both sides if hired on.

He gave himself his surname; he knows his mother's surname but he refuses to acknowledge it

He has gone back to using his mothers surname, Xantrani. He'll still respond to Goldpocket though.

Design Notes

Barry is half elf

Small smaller, still longer than human's, pointed ears

Hazel (almost golden), human eyes. Almond, monolid eyes

Human like eyebrows, with a scar in his right eyebrow.

There is no glow to his eyes (previous design had them at one point, no longer does)

Freckles on his check bones, nose and forehead.

Always wears his mother's emerald ring with a gold band Out of his jewelry, the three stacked helix piercing on his right ear is the most important.

At first glance....

Striking Looks

Other than being half elf, Barry is covered from his neck, chest, back and arms in Black out tattoos (about has ref)

He has dark olive skin, brunette hair, hazel eyes. A scar on his right eyebrow and a whorish smirk about 105% of the time.

Why is pirating so addictive?

They say once ye lose yer first hand, ye get hooked!

Okay but for real, Barry grew up on the docks of Booty Bay and Ratchet. Pirating is all he knows. He'll act nice to get that pretty coin out of your pocket.

The sound of gold...

The sound of cold coins tinkling makes Barry the happiest lad around town.

He'd do most anything for a bit of more weight in his purse.

Weapons

Barry's favorite: a pair of twin golden daggers that have red lightning, Disrupt and Disturb. Usually they're worn on his back, attached to his belts.

And of course his gun, the Silent Bronze Pistol. Which he keeps tucked away in his sash n' belt.

Locks and Pockets

Barry is really good at getting into people's locked chest and their pockets. Keep an eye out around him.

RP Hooks

Ratchet / Booty Bay / Pirate crews / work - Before befriending his best friend and captain of the Ocean’s Lust, Barry grew up and was raised in Ratchet and traveled to Booty Bay often. Once he was old enough, he joined the local pirates for work. If he was off a boat for extended time, he usually worked as a server/bartender at taverns on the port.

Thief - a thief shouldn’t be well know, but has a bit of a light finger around new folk. He also has a history of larger jobs, heist and even bank robberies. Hasn’t technically gone to jail though.

Ocean’s Lust - The name of the ship he works on currently as the first mate. Him and his bro, Pheonix are the only two crew members but that doesn’t stop the adventures. Together they do a much of treasure hunting.

Succulent Tarts - Barry has been working with the Succulent Tart guild for some time now. If you've been to a show or two, maybe you've seen him running around helping out.

How to Contact:

OoC feel free to contact me here on tumblr. I enjoy cross-server / cross-faction rp, and Barry’s general hangouts are usually around Orgrimmar, Zandalar, or even free to walk up to in the open world!

IC always feel free to message on tumblr. In-game, “Baerithryn” on Wyrmrest Accord - Horde side.

Barry is very friendly, even with strangers. So feel free to strike up a conversation anytime.

[hope-for-olicity]

Fictober18 #22 - “I know how you love to play games.”

This is today’s entry for fictober. I’m going to try to post a short story every day during October based on a quote provided by the organizer of Fictober18. All stories will be from Arrow based on the Olicity Fandom.  

Today’s quote is “I know how you love playing games.” An AU where Felicity and Caitlin go see the Starling City Rockets hockey game and take a special interest in some of the hockey players. Also available on AO3.

Ever since Felicity moved to Starling City from Las Vegas a couple of years ago, her roommate had been bugging her to go to a hockey game. Las Vegas didn’t have a hockey team when she was growing up so she knew nothing about hockey other than Caitlin loved it. So, when Caitlin suggested for the third time that week that they try for tickets for Saturday night’s game, Felicity caved.

The Starling City Rockets were the team to beat this year, the city was abuzz with excitement. An excitement that Felicity was now in the middle of. Felicity and Caitlin had just taken their seats after getting some beer and chips. Caitlin really should have mentioned the snacks earlier, it would have gotten her here sooner.

“Great, we made it before puck drop. In case you are wondering we are going for the guys in red.” Caitlin pointed at the ice.

“Haha. I’ve watched enough games at home with you to know that. I Googled the team today, Oliver Queen, the captain is quite the womanizer.”  Felicity took a sip of beer.

“Felicity Smoak, look at you reading the gossip pages. I thought you had no interest in that kind of thing.” Caitlin laughed.

“I don’t. It’s just when you Google Starling City Rockets all these pictures of Oliver Queen appear, each with a different model. That guy gets around, it’s just an observation.” Felicity defended herself.

“Or maybe he just has his picture taken a lot.” Caitlin turned to look at Felicity. “#15 is Barry Allen, we grew up together. He speaks highly of Queen. Says he’s a class act. That the papers get wrong. I tend to believe him.”

“Woah. Sorry, I didn’t mean to attack your friend’s friend.” Felicity smiled teasingly at Caitlin. “Clearly, Barry would know way more than me. The only thing I feel confident saying is Oliver Queen is not hard on the eyes. I hope he’s as good at hockey as he is good looking.”

“Well, if you’d like to meet him in person. I have an open invitation to after game drinks thanks to Barry.” Caitlin said hopefully.

“Let’s see how the game goes. You might be able to persuade me.” Felicity smiled turning her attention back to the game.

*****

By the end of the second period, Felicity was hooked. Jumping up, screaming at the refs. As the buzzer rang she turned to Caitlin. “I’m going to run up to get something, you need anything?”

Caitlin shook her head. “I’m just going to text Barry to tell him congrats on the goal. I’ll also let him know that we might see him for drinks later.”

“There’s no might. I’m in.” Felicity smiled, heading up the steps.

Felicity came back with Starling City Rockets jersey for her and Caitlin. Queen for her and Allen for Caitlin. Caitlin was shocked. “Hey, we have to support our team. Before you ask, I only had the one beer.”

“I’ve created a monster.” Caitlin laughed as she slipped on her new jersey.

“It’s just that I never really paid attention to what was going on before. But now,” Felicity smiled. “I love it!”

“I don’t know what’s come over you but I love it.” Caitlin smiled.

Felicity jumped up cheering. “Did you see that? Queen scored his third goal! That seems impressive. Is it impressive?”

Caitlin laughed. “Yes, it is impressive. It’s called a hat trick. You can congratulate him at the bar.”

Felicity wasn’t sure if she’d have the nerve to talk to Queen at the bar. She’d never been great talking to guys, clearly, this guy liked models. At 5’4 no one would ever mistake her for a model.

*****

The Rockets ending up winning 6-2. It was a very exciting game, Felicity enjoyed part of the happiness in the crowd. They stopped in the bathroom to freshen up before heading out. Felicity looked at herself in the mirror in her oversized jersey, jeans, hair in a ponytail. She pulled the tie out of her hair, used the water from the tap to help straighten it out. Finally, she replaced her red lipstick. It matched the jersey but she still wasn’t sure. She turned to Caitlin as she exited one of the bathroom stalls. “Do you think we should wear our jerseys?”

“Oh, we are definitely wearing our jerseys! The boys will love them.” Caitlin washed her hands, then reapplied her lipstick. “Plus, we look super cute.”

*****

When they walked into the bar it was packed solid with fans who were screaming over the loud music. This wasn’t Felicity’s usual scene but Caitlin was so excited and she was high on adrenaline from the win.

Caitlin led the way through the crowded bar. Felicity held onto her friend’s purse strap to ensure she wasn’t lost in the crowd. Just when Felicity started to feel claustrophobic, they were led into the VIP section.

A tall thin guy approached them as soon as they entered. “Caitlin so nice to see you. So glad you made it to the game.” Then he turned to Felicity. “You must be Felicity, I’m Barry Allen.”

“Nice to meet you,” Felicity smiled, nervous to meet a hockey player in real life. “Congrats on your win and your goal, I cheered.” I cheered? Felicity could kick herself.

Barry smiled at them both. “Thanks for your support. You look good in red.”

“Oh, the jerseys were Felicity’s treat. Check it out.” She turned to show Barry his name on the back of her jersey.

“Wow!” Barry was practically beaming with pride. He turned to Felicity, “does yours say Allen too?”

Felicity shook her head, turning to reveal Queen on the back of her jersey. “Well, it’s good to know I have at least one supporter.” Said a voice that clearly wasn’t Barry’s. Felicity began to blush. Oliver Queen was right behind her. She wasn’t sure she could turn around. Mini freakout happening.

“Oliver Queen, so nice to meet you. I’m Caitlin Snow and this my friend,” Caitlin tugged Felicity’s arm forcefully to turn her around. “Felicity Queen, I mean Smoak. Her last name is Smoak.”

Felicity forced herself to look up at Oliver Queen. Yup, he was even better looking in person. “Hi.” She said so softly he may not have heard her.

Oliver smiled. “Can I get you ladies a drink?”

“Two beers please,” Caitlin spoke up. Felicity nodded. Oliver left to get the drinks. Caitlin turned to Barry. “Can you excuse us for a quick second? Promise we will be right back.” Caitlin led Felicity away from the crowd. “What is up with you? This could be your chance. Forget about my slip. You look amazing, you are a smart and unbelievable catch. You should let Oliver Queen know that.”

Felicity smiled at her friend. “You really are the best, you know.”

Caitlin chuckled. “I know. Now go help Oliver with the drinks.” She gave Felicity a friendly push toward the bar.

*****

Felicity got the bar just as Oliver was turned with the drinks. “I thought, thought I’d help you.” Felicity managed to stumble over her words. “Great game tonight. I know how you love to play games. Not play games, games. Hockey games, I mean. You got the hat trick.”

Oliver smiled. Felicity Smoak was adorable and so real. She was unlikely any of the women he met in his profession. She was just lovely. “Yes, I got lucky scoring a hat trick at the game you were at.”

“It was actually my first hockey game ever. Caitlin had to explain it all to me. But I really enjoyed it. Thank you for the hockey game and the beer.” She took a sip of beer to stop saying embarrassing things. There something about this guy that made her want to talk but yet unable to talk at the same time. So many feels.

“You are very welcome, I’m glad you enjoyed the game. I hope you come again.” He handed Caitlin her beer before taking a sip of his own. He turned back to Felicity, “Do you want to sit over there where it’s not so loud?”

Felicity nodded, following him to a table a little out of the way but still with eyeshot of Caitlin and Barry.

Oliver pulled out a chair for her to sit. “So you know, I’m a hockey player. What do you do?”

“Oh, I’m the CEO of  Smoak Consolidated.” Felicity wasn’t sure if she should have told him that. Her grandmother always told her not to tell men how smart she was. She claimed that’s why Felicity was still single.

“Wow. That’s really impressive. I’ve heard of your company. You make the spinal implants, right?” Oliver suddenly realized this woman was out of his league. But he wanted to try anyway. It just felt right talking to her. “Does your company take outside investments? I run a few charities, I’m always looking for a worthy cause, I have to say I was already thinking about your chips. They really are a miracle. It’s truly an honour to meet the woman behind them.”

“Wow. Thank you. I’m surprised you heard of my company but equally flattered. Yes, the chips cost a great deal of money to produce. I keep trying to lower the cost so they are affordable to the everyday person but so far I haven’t been able to do that. We should talk when you have time, I know you travel a lot. I can tell you some ways you may be able to help.” Felicity felt lightheaded. He seemed impressed, genuinely interested in the chip.

“Why don’t you give me your phone, I’ll give you my number.” Oliver quickly typed his number in then handed it back. “We are on the road for the next week starting Saturday. But I can meet you tomorrow or when I get back. I understand tomorrow is short notice.” Oliver really hoped she said yes to tomorrow. First, he’d set up his investment then he’d ask her out. He didn’t want it to appear as the two were connected.

Felicity quickly looked down at her phone. “I can do a late lunch at two o’clock if that works for you? Yikes!”

“Yikes?” Oliver couldn’t help but ask.

“Yes, I apparently have a nine am meeting tomorrow. I should get going. Do you mine coming downtown for lunch? I really have to run.” Felicity stood up, looking around for Caitlin.

“Hey,” Oliver grabbed her hand. “I’ll help you find her.”

“Thanks.” Felicity looked at him with relief. “I’m sorry, I just realized I need to review a report before the meeting.”

“No apologies necessary.” They began walking through the bar still holding hands. Felicity hadn’t pulled away which made him smile. “There they are.” Caitlin and Barry were playing pool.

“Thank you so much, Oliver. I’ll see you tomorrow. I look forward to working together.” As she turned to leave she noticed they were still holding hands. Felicity blushed, Oliver released her hand.

As he watched her walk over to Caitlin and Barry. He was already thinking of ways to keep Felicity Smoak in his life.

To be continued tomorrow :)

Hope you enjoyed. I’m going to tag a few people. Let me know if you want to be tagged or untagged!

@mindramblingsfics @memcjo @mel-loves-all @wherethereissmoak @green-arrows-of-karamel @spaztronautwriter @wrldtravler @tdgal1 @vaelisamaza @oliverfel4 @lucyyh @swordandarrow @smoaking-greenarrow @it-was-a-red-heeler @miriam1779 @coal000 @blondeeoneexox  @laurabelle2930 @loutendiena @oliverandhisqueen @crys4728

[iamnotthedog]

MORRISON: FALL 1994

So Jeni was gone—off in the African bush and only able to contact us whenever she went to Nairobi to get her mail and have a nice hot meal in a restaurant. Jim was pretty much gone, too. He might as well have been in Africa with Jeni. We didn’t really hear from him for almost two years, other than the occasional tape he sent in the mail. His band out in Arizona was called the A.M. Radio All-Stars, and I’d listen to the tape of them constantly while sitting up in my big bedroom—the western half of which used to be Jim’s room.1

When Jim finally came home, shortly before Jeni’s return, he came home to stay for a while. He woke me up around four in the morning one day, standing over me admiring the new bedroom, super tan and wild-eyed, his hair longer than ever. He said he had a motorcycle, and asked if I wanted to go for a ride. So I threw on some clothes and walked out to the pre-dawn driveway with him, where I straddled the seat and put my arms around his leather jacket, my heart pounding. We flew through the hills in the rolling countryside helmetless, past dark houses and coffee-sipping farmers in barns, going almost a hundred miles an hour whenever the road straightened out. Then we got home after the sun had come up over the cornfields to the east, and Mom was standing there in the kitchen in her pink nightie with curlers in her hair. She let Jim have it. She said she couldn’t believe he’d risk my life like that. He slapped me on the back and I laughed and said, “Aw, Mom. It was fun! I was safe...”

I didn't hear the details until years later, but apparently Jim had started to have a pretty rough go of it out in the desert. When the A.M. Radio All-Stars had started to break up and Jim’s buddies had moved away, he’d started hanging with some cats that weren’t all that good to be around. He had done a few too many drugs—not the harmless shit like weed, but harder shit like crack and whatnot—and he had a few too many close calls, and then he just decided to bail. His plan was to stay in Morrison for a while, work a couple of jobs, save on rent, and then move to Minneapolis with his old high school buddy, Barry.

I was in junior high school at the time, and I was excited. Jim had been out there, he had played in bands, he had traveled the country. I was in that stage where I was starting to figure stuff out for myself—starting to realize where my true talents and interests lied, and what paths I was going to begin to steer myself towards. I was still playing basketball on the junior high team—by which I mean that I practiced with the basketball team, then sat on the bench during the games—and I still read voraciously and got decent grades in all my classes, but I was more interested in music and travel than anything. I had always had a voice on me—everyone in my family could, and did, sing and play instruments—and I was beginning to want to trade the coronet I played in the junior high band for a guitar, so I could front a rock band and be a musician and travel the country like my big brother.

The grunge movement was just taking off in the small-town Midwestern U.S.A. around that point—following the usual pattern of trends which reach out into the Great Plains only after they have been born, proliferated, and died long, horrible deaths in the nation’s coastal cities—and I was embracing it fully. I had the flannel shirts, the torn blue jeans, and the shoulder-length blonde hair that I never washed in homage to the recently deceased Kurt Cobain.2 And now I had Jim, straight out of the burgeoning music scene in the Southwestern desert, and he had brought home a little carpet bag full of albums of bands I had never heard of—bands whose music sounded dusty, gritty, less polished than anything I was used to hearing on the radio. The songs echoed like they were recorded in stairwells and empty garages. They were songs written by lonely, isolated geniuses with stories to tell.

Jim also brought home an acoustic guitar—a black Alvarez that looked like it had passed few quite a few hands. A week or two after his return, when he found himself a night job closing down the kitchen of the American Legion, I started to mess around with that guitar. I’d have a good ten hours almost every night when I would have free reign over all Jim’s stuff, and I would sneak into the guest bedroom downstairs after dinner to hold the guitar and listen to all that strange new music. It sounds stupid, but just doing that alone really motivated me to not only get out there in the world and experience more, but to learn how to play so I could then use that medium to tell the stories I would want to tell. So I went to the mall with Mom one weekend and bought a book of guitar tablature—Nirvana: Unplugged in New York—and after that I stopped just messing around with the guitar and started to teach myself how to play it.

Something we all learned rather quickly about Don was that he was always creating new projects for himself—always busying himself with the tearing down of this wall, the refinishing of that floor. The house on Wall Street was perfect for him for just that reason: it was a fix-me-upper from the start, and always had something in some state of disrepair. For all the years that the Duffy/Jevne family lived there, Don was always working on something. The narrow and steep back stairwell never did get that railing it was supposed to. But about the bedroom: when Jim and Jeni were both all moved out, Don instantly dove into ripping out an upstairs wall and converting what used to be two separate rooms on the backside of the second floor—a television den and Jim’s tiny bedroom—into one large room. I appreciated it, of course—I was the one who would get that room, being the oldest child in the house—but it sure was a lot of work. ↩︎

Kurt was the first public figure whose death really shook me. Don’s father, my Grandpa Jevne, had died of emphysema in the Spring of 1989, but when Grandpa Jevne had died, I hadn’t really understood—I had acted like I understood, but I really didn’t. It had taken me several weeks to comprehend the idea of someone being gone forever, and I had only grasped the weight of the whole situation through observing the reactions of my parents. Seeing the usually stoic Don break down and cry had done it for me. But five years later, when I heard that Kurt had snuck out of the Exodus Recovery Center in Los Angeles, flown back to his home in Seattle, and shot himself in the head with a shotgun on my little brother’s sixth birthday—that got me. It got me deep down. I was a teenager at that point. I knew what death was, what it meant, and what suicide meant—what it told you about the state of mind that person was in when their life ended forever. I had come late to the Nirvana craze—they had been a band for four years when I first listened to Nevermind in 1992—but when I got into them, Kurt became a huge influence on me. I knew every word to every song, and I knew damn well through my interpretations of those words that Kurt was a miserable human being a lot of the time. But I, like everyone else, had no way of knowing just how miserable he had been. And thinking about that misery, and thinking about how Kurt hadn’t reached out to anyone—he hadn’t let anyone know about it, hadn’t had anyone around him who was able and/or willing to help pull him out of it, to tell him there would be an end to it eventually, that the only cure for an adolescent angst that won’t go away is time and patience and maturity and maybe a little sobriety—that all made me a much more grateful and contemplative and solemn teenager than I had been previously—at least for a short time. And when Nirvana: Unplugged in New York came out—an album I still see today as being an extended and stunningly gorgeous suicide note—far more honest and telling than Kurt’s actual suicide note had been—well, that album became the soundtrack of my life for the next several years. ↩︎