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hecohansen31 · 5 years ago

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To Kill A King

Ivar+Saxon Princess! Reader

The Faithful Wife

I know that I can survive Outside this cage Maybe now I can fight through All this rage

“To Kill A King” by Hungry Lucy

First Chapter (1)

Second Chapter (2)

(A/N): Hello there, lovelies!

I wanted to first of all say that... THIS IS SHIT!

This is an extremely filler chapter, as in... it was supposed to be more long, reaching another point to the one I chose, but I lost my inspiration halfway through, plus I do think that if I had kept it longer I would have probably just annoyed you, hence I thought I would break apart the chapters!

Still I hope you won’t hate me for how I decided to end things and as always: my inspirations comes from receiving feedback, so if you want to share your thoughts/opinions just do it!

It’ll absolutely make me feel a lot better, plus they go straight up to my heart and never fails to brighten my day!

SUMMARY: Life in an arranged wedding isn’t easy, even more when your ‘beloved husband’ does everything he can to annoy and ignore you.

WORDS: 16, 8 K

WARNINGS: Arranged Marriage, Mention of Domestical Abuse and Rape, Violence (Strong Themes), Sexual Harassment, Slavery, Historically inaccurate.

You were lightly woken up by two hands shaking you awake, as you slowly took in the coldness of your room, confused by it, usually handmaidens always made sure to have your room warm solely for you.

But as your eyes were awaken enough to focus on something, you realized this wasn’t your room.

And the hands that were shaking you to wake you up weren’t your handmaiden’s.

They were Ivar’s.

Surprise and shock must have shown on your face and he lightly backed off, although his glare was directly set onto you, waiting for you to simply open and close your eyes a few times before he spoke.

“… my brothers they’ll soon be there…” you mind still didn’t link it at all “… it would be more proper for our play if the found you in bed with me”.

You simply nodded, meanwhile you tried to calm yourself, getting your wedding dress clumsily away from your body as you moved towards the bed, more out of search of warmth than because you were following Ivar’s rules.

Certainly, your sense of pudor wasn’t working in that moment, hazed by sleep.

Ivar let you slid in first, a way to make you feel more comfortable as you were attentive to the blood stain in the middle of the mattress, shifting away from it, as you slipped under the warmth of the furs and Ivar did the same, at first pulling himself in a seated position, and then lifted off his legs, pushing one after the other onto the mattress.

You stared at him captured by the way he moved.

It was something that fascinated you: he was definitely stronger than he let in showing new abilities that brought you to admire him more.

And your eyes couldn’t certainly hide their interest for the way his muscles flexed lightly.

Ivar then brought the blanket onto both your heads, and you were glad that it allowed you two a bit of darkness, covering your blush for the acute exploration of his body you had delved into a few minutes before.

And it didn’t take long to hear a few screams from the outside, mostly males, and you couldn’t help but hide more as Ivar shouted back to them, something that you didn’t understand so you thought were curses.

But soon the tent flapped open, revealing various smirking males, as Ivar lowered the blanket from both your heads, showing him and you as you lightly shifted closer to him, uneasy at so many new faces, although you remembered a few from the feast.

“… brother come on don’t be shy!” muttered Hvitserk, as Ubbe had a similar wolfish look in his eyes, but you quickly noticed that Bjorn, the big bear was missing.

Heahmund was also there, looking out for your face as you calmed softly yourself to try to appear as a bride after her first night, although you soon remembered that you were also a fearing and beloved daughter of God.

The soft smile disappearing on your face for a chaste and constipated expression.

“We’ve all seen your naked ass” retorted beside him Ubbe, and you were thankful they were teasing Ivar and not you, although he was slowly growing stiff right next to you “… c’mon brother you know that it is only a formality”.

But as your mind became more awake, you soon realized that they were all looking at Ivar expectantly, ready to humor his failure, which they took as granted.

Flashbacks to the previous night brought you the knowledge that maybe… just maybe they knew that Ivar couldn’t…. complete the action.

And they would beam in his inability.

Which you couldn’t help but frown upon.

Katherine and Abigail would tease you all the time, but it was done in a gracious way that would always make you smirk, in the end.

Not tighten your jaw, as Ivar was doing, meanwhile Ubbe moved forward and after he waited for a slight nod from you, he raised the blankets away from you both.

The coldness of the room suddenly hit you, and you leaned lightly against Ivar, him even going a step further as he drew you closer with an arm, as if to shield you, for which you were grateful since you were suddenly aware of your naked legs, left uncovered by your tunic.

No man, not even your father had seen you in such an undressed state.

And now a load of them were.

Ubbe searched the mattress and then he found the stain.

Surprise shone onto his face as if he hadn’t expected the presence of blood and he shot you both a confused look to which Ivar replied to with a smug smirk, softly grabbing onto your lower waist, in a show of possession that brought you to shiver lightly.

“Brother did they…?” Hvitserk left it unsaid and Ubbe turned to nod, again moving to you and Ivar one last shocked look, as you tried to stand taller.

“We did it, brothers” Ivar replied, again that smug smirk of supremacy on his face as he adjusted better on the bed “… now will you leave us alone, won’t you?”

The brothers stood a bit clumsily in the room, their tall frames almost too big for it in a way that made you almost laugh.

“Let’s leave the happy couple to their rest, now that we have proved that the wedding is legal” replied softly Heahmund, probably sensing your distress, for which you thanked him with a small look on his way as Ivar turned his back to them, trying to move back to sleep, in an obvious fake attempt to ignore all the ‘witnesses’.

Soon they all left the room, following Heahmund’s suggestion and giving you a moment of privacy as servants brought in some of your trunks for which you were thankful, because the tunic you were wearing wasn’t as covering as your usual nightgown, and alongside the trunks, new clean water was brought.

The basin you had used to clean your hand stood unused at the top of the table but the blood in it made it definitely too dirty to be used.

You were thankful as the servants brought it away, without any questions.

Ivar got away from bed, awake like you, but left you the little private room to change as you chose a quick dress, something that you wouldn’t need to help of servants to put on, well aware that you couldn’t do much without them.

The dress you chose was simple, not proper for your princess’ status but you would wear it whenever you hoped to pass off as discreet and for something comfortable: it had a first gown of white fabric and one of heavier fabric onto it of a darker color, all linked through a series of hooks.

And the behind of it had threads that just needed to be nodded together in order to obtain a tighter silhouette in a way that, according to Abigail, brought out your waist… and breasts.

You mostly liked it because it didn’t have a corset and it wouldn’t crush your chest and lungs, allowing you fuller movements, not heaved down by the richness of the jewels that decorated your most lavish gowns.

As you slipped on the gown, you moved onto wearing some leather boots, again a comfortable attire unsure of what Ivar would have you doing, today and trying to minimize the time you spent undressed.

Although the knowledge that Ivar wouldn’t take advantage of you calmed you a bit, you still felt uneasy being undressed in a room with another man, aware that he might come out of the bath anytime and catch you naked.

Although he wasn’t a simple man.

He was your husband.

Your eyes caught a glimpse of the small ring you were wearing the band plainly attached to your skin, as it shone of light silver through the sun filtered by the tent.

It wasn’t simple, having a light decoration on it, a serpent eating its tail, in a circle.

You tried to remember where you had seen a similar drawing but again, sleep clouded it and soon Ivar appeared on the bathroom threshold, breaking you away from your thinking as you quickly closed your trunks, trying to shield Ivar from seeing the small knife your father had given you.

It hadn’t been there in your trunks when the servants had prepared them, and the shock of seeing it gave you a thrill.

You father had talked of you as a spy among the heathens, not a murder.

It went against your nature as a fearful Christian and your own nature as a timid and fragile woman.

As soon as you had caught the sight of the weapon, you had immediately hidden it under some rich fabric, hoping that Ivar’s guards wouldn’t go through them meanwhile you were away, locking them properly as Ivar approached you.

Once you were done you turned to him, waiting to know more, since he had been the one who had directed your threads since you had come there, and would forever do soon till death did you apart.

But Ivar promptly went past you as if you were a ghost, not even deigning you of a glance, as you obtained one solely as your hand shout out for one of his arms, making him turn to you.

He seemed almost bothered, not the smug boy who had cuddled you closer to his chest just a few minutes before.

He was certainly a good actor.

“… I… what am I to do?” you mumbled, immediately regretting your silly words, sounding too much as a plead as irritation was written all over his face “… we are married, we should enjoy married life”.

You tried to sweeten your words as much as you could, your hands lightly caressing his arms, something that you had dreamed to do since you had first seen him, finding them as muscled as you had believe them to be, throbbing under the strength he used to keep himself upright.

“… you might as well, wife of mine” his tone had something sickly sweet that made you quickly understand he was teasing you “… I am the leader of an army, I don’t have time for such thing as ‘enjoying life’, we are going back to Kattegat in four weeks, enjoy the time in the camping”.

You couldn’t help but be lightly stung by his words as you lowered your head nodding, leaving your grip as he moved away, two guards appearing on the threshold, one following Ivar outside and another remained on the threshold an obvious show that he would be staying with you.

You sent him a smile, although in your heart burned the humiliation Ivar had put you through.

He talked about respect but treated you like that.

How could you trust him?

Thankfully you weren’t left to your own devices for long, because you heard a miscellaneous language of Saxon and Norse, and then your sister Kathleen peaked in the tent, sending you a worried look, and in that moment slow tears streamed down your face and she bolted to you, almost throwing you down onto the bed.

“… (Y/N)!” she cheered as Abigail joined you, with no less energy and effectively sending your body to smash onto the bed, covered again by furs to hide the blood for which you were grateful “… you are still alive and smiling, oh sweet sister!”.

“Was he gentle?” went straight to the point Abigail, her eyes curious as she set up on her heavy dress, coming closer to you “... his brothers told us, that you did… your marriage was consummated”.

Immediately Katherine searched your eyes as you clutched your hands tighter on your lap, as a blush creeped from your neck to your cheeks, and you sent a quickly look to the confused guard, probably not understanding the giggles of three women.

Katherine realized what you were thinking about and she lightly shook her head.

“He doesn’t know Saxon don’t worry”.

“We didn’t… consummate the marriage” you talked too fast to make it impossible for the man to even understand you had spoken “… he told me we would never…”.

“Then it is true that he can’t get it up!” replied immediately Abigail, making you and Katherine quickly shut her up as you both sent the guard a small look, checking on him whether he had understood but he just looked at you vaguely, wondering what you were talking about.

“… I don’t know… we didn’t talk… I didn’t ask” you couldn’t help but calm yourself lightly “… he asked me respect him as a husband and he would do the same with me, as his wife”.

“Then why isn’t he here?” Katherine’s tone was piercing, and she slowly took your hands, clutching them together as you send them a protesting look “… we could still run, live in the woods as we joked when we were children”.

“We wouldn’t last a day, Katherine” you had trouble simply dressing yourself up, and this would mean to ruin the peace your wedding had created “… I would, believe me I would love nothing more, but this is my life now, and I better start liking it”.

“I just… I just wished it wouldn’t have been you” you held an hand out to Abigail who had spoken softly.

Although she didn’t have the protectiveness that belonged to Katherine, she knew how to sweeten everything with her gentle personality, something which brightened softly your smile as you led them in a quick hug.

“I don’t know how I’ll be able to live without you” you had lived with them all your life, they had been the sole friends you had had, too awkward and shy to attempt a smile or a smirk at anyone that wasn’t your family.

You couldn’t believe in a life without them.

“… we don’t either” mumbled Katherine, tears seeped in the deep fabric of your dress, but you felt like it was some kind of badge of honor.

“Can’t think that I won’t have you waking me up, whenever I run late” replied instead Abigail, making you laugh through tears “… you aren’t gone for ever still, are you?”.

You hoped you wouldn’t, but with the knowledge that you would be going back to their original land you couldn’t see a reason for you to go back to your kingdom, another time.

But who knew? By then you might have charmed your husband.

And donkeys would have flown.

“… we are never ever leaving each other, although we may be apart, oceans away, we are never away in each other’s heart” as you said so your hands linked to their hearts, feeling them rush as they slowed down calmed by your words.

They both smiled softly, and before they could hug you again you heard a distinct cough and found bishop Heahmund and Hvitserk looking at you, expectantly in a clear way to tell you that your time had come to an end.

And you slowly let go of their hands, your eyes teary as well as those of your sisters as they collected themselves calmly, turning around to face with neutral faces Hvitserk and Heahmund, the bishop trying to smile to brighten the mood, although he himself was lightly moved by the scene.

Katherine sent you one last look, blowing you a soft kiss as Abigail, gripped her hand, understanding she had to be her rock, for the time being.

Hvitserk still stopped your sisters before they could completely exit the tent and you worried suddenly for a minute, scared that they might have discovered something, but then he moved something from behind him, revealing the sword your sisters had gifted Ivar, adding a quick whisper in Norse you caught, and with a small smile you translated.

“He says that prince Ivar saw the way you looked at the sword, and that he wouldn’t dare to steal it from you after he has already stolen a sister” the entire discourse was grim, but you couldn’t help but appreciate the gesture Ivar had done.

Katherine had loved the sword from the moment it had come out of the furnace, looking at the polished metal as it elegantly swished against the air when she handed it so so carefully, attentive to avoid hurting anybody around her.

Father had given Katherine a military and weaponry training but had never allowed her to own a sword, knowing perfectly well that this would have put Katherine in an upheld position, almost as his equal, and your father hated with all his heart to be overtaken.

That’s why he had tried to keep desperately his children beneath him, training and educating solely his heir, meanwhile he left his other daughters ignorant, having them treated as perfect ladies, left in the hands of unknown governesses, pushed in small corsets and tight dresses.

He had made you and Abigail grow up as perfect wives and mothers.

Nothing more and nothing less.

Not to be heard or feared till they were useful.

As in your case.

You sent one last look at Katherine, who nodded lightly and bowed to Hvitserk lightly, a dull excitement in her eyes as she exited alongside Abigail, casting you one last soft look, a wish of ‘happy wedding’.

Heahmund in the meanwhile walked around the room, taking in the stain of blood, rushing back to you as Hvitserk moved to accompany your sisters, leaving you privacy with the bishop although he shot him a direct glare to invite him not to try anything.

“… my princess, was the heathen…” he immediately rushed to ask, softly touching your body as you allowed him to do the same “… violent with you? I know the marriage was consummated, despite the rumors about your husband’s… inability”.

“He wasn’t” you lied, aware that you were lying to a man of faith “… it was… a quick matter and soon over”.

You didn’t know what to mumble, not being experienced on that matter and having to formulate some kind of rational discourse on it.

You ran through lady Claudia’s small talk of the previous day trying desperately to find something that might convince him of your relationship with Ivar.

“… he wasn’t too rough with me and it hurt just for a bit” you replied softly, keeping your voice in check to hide the lie better “… he was careful and attentive”.

“That doesn’t seem the Ivar I met on the battlefield” he commented tightly and you were worried it might have given out your lie “… but I am glad that he has a softer side for his rightful wife, my princess, you have quite charmed him”.

You nodded your head simply, as you tried to avoid saying too much that might give you out.

“… I now have to get your sisters back to security but I’ll be back before nightfall, please be attentive and safe, my princess” you almost wanted to protest there and then that you were in danger because of them, not because of any of your action.

If you could, you would be in a convent with your precious books and your sisters beside you.

But again, you nodded, adjusting yourself on the bed as Heahmund gave you a soft kiss onto the palm of your hand.

As Heahmund exited the tent, Hvitserk came back in it, and took a quick look at you, which you returned shyly but questioning, wondering whether you would be allowed outside the tent or Ivar would keep you as a mighty dragon, storing you as a treasure.

But at least that would mean he thought you were precious.

“Is everything alright, princess?” although Hvitserk had a teasing smile on his face, the way he talked seemed genuinely concerned “… feeling cold?”.

You weren’t properly cold but you had shrunk back into yourself, clutching your hands around your body in a tight hug more to comfort yourself as the feeling of loneliness set in your heart.

“A bit” you justified yourself as the man moved closer, something that made you back lightly on the bed, suddenly making you realize that you were in a cove of enemies, and although your brain wanted to do nothing more than to trust anyone, your common sense advised you against that.

“We should get you some better clothes” he mumbled looking at your flimsy dress, certainly not the highest example of style, but it was comfortable and easy to put on, not necessarily warm still, and you weren’t used to exiting the castle, at least without an heavy coat of woolen, which would stop the coldness “… in Kattegat is cold and we don’t need you to get sick at your first Winter there”.

And Hvitserk had guided you outside to the small market brewing in the camping, surprising you for the organization of the entire structure, making your eyes widen as you took in the sight of the exchange between cultures.

You had worn a light cloak that Hvitserk had lent you, which was a bit too long sometimes entwinning in your legs, and you were grateful you hadn’t worn a more complex gown.

Extremely grateful it would avoid you from falling face first in the mud.

Your eyes darted over the small stalls, as Hvitserk chatted cheerily with anyone who stopped him, all the people around you staring discreetly at you in a way that almost made you want to hide your face with the hood of the cloak.

You were well aware that half of them had witnessed your marriage to Ivar and your different traits wouldn’t certainly pass unobserved, but you had hoped to attract less attention this sudden.

You tried to shift your attention on the small trinkets that were sold, being extremely interested by the creation of the blacksmiths, beautiful jewels and small statues, relatively more modest than your jewels but they held a particular fascination for you.

As the man saw you staring at his creations, he puffed out his chest but kept his distance as Hvitserk graciously took your arm to guide you away, pushing you onto a stand that smelt… horridly.

Furs weren’t much in vogue in your court, since they were thought to be vulgar and popular, mostly if not properly treated, and you could understand since the smell wasn’t pleasant and you had to take a deep breath as Hvitserk calmly talked with the lady who was taking care of stalls.

She was a small old lady, her hands worked through years of treating furs, in a way that made them extremely wrinkly but beautiful for the stories they told, almost a thread of magic and skin.

She smiled at you, with no knowledge of your status, with a warmth that seemed damnably familiar and homely and you just smiled back as the woman moved to collect a few furs from behind his stalls as Hvitserk told you her name was Hilde and she had been working furs since she was as small as she was now.

‘She is the best! You’ll be warm don’t worry”.

You were thankful for Hvitserk’s cheery and mindless tone, since it helped you focus your mind away from Ivar’s rejection and your sisters’ departure.

As Hilde came back, she held two beautiful furs in her hands: one was smaller, having an orangey color tending lightly to red, a color which complimented your skin according to Abigail.

It was probably made out of fox fur and it had be linked into a cloak to protect the neck and the shoulders from coldness.

She pushed it onto your shoulder, having you bowed slightly for her in order to permit her to comfortably place it there, adjusting it with a few pins, in a provisory set up, before she pushed you next to the mirror in the stall, allowing you to set yourself.

You hadn’t seen yourself after the veil had been pushed on your face since Ivar’s room didn’t have any mirror, and you couldn’t help but follow for a minute your profile with your eyes.

You found it changed from the anonymity you always saw in the mirror, almost as if you were now looking at every stain or spots in your skin, almost wanting to dig your fingers in the skin to find out if it were you.

You were brought down from your inner thoughts by Hilde, asking if you liked the first piece, and as you nodded, she exchanged the first piece with a fuller fur, completely covering your frame, weighting heavily onto you, but its warmth was very much appreciated as it hugged tight keeping you calm and sated.

Hilde lightly pulled on the end of the dark furs, painted lightly with red reflexes something which shone even brighter in the light.

“They are both beautiful!” you exclaimed, honestly heard in your tones as the small woman smirked happily at you, twirling in her comfortable leather shoes, as she went back to show you more, eventually filling you with also leather corsets and a few cloaks, this time, of your height.

You couldn’t help but see the total pile up in front of you, almost worried about how you would pay it.

Your father had gifted you with a few coins to help you mostly in case anything happened to you, but you didn’t feel like letting Ivar pay for your dresses, because it made you uneasy to depend on him.

Although you saw no other solution.

As you asked Hilde to start choosing what you truly needed and you didn’t, she stopped you, baffled and almost offended, as she put her hand on her chest.

“… these are gifts for the future queen” she explained slowly, each word being spitted out with its pure meaning, making you open your eyes wide, not solely for the mention of the word ‘queen’.

“I can’t accept this, Hilde! It is too much!”.

As a princess you were used to gifts of any kind, but you felt like stealing from this people, taking away their precious goods without any retribution.

You didn’t have a high enough place there to do such a thing.

These people weren’t the cruel and calculating spies of the courtiers that populated your reign, they seemed genuine and gentle.

It felt like taking advantage of their gentleness.

“… take it, sweetheart” her voice was gentle, pushing the furs in your hand as you shook your hand and Hvitserk gently helped Hilde with the furs, murmuring something in Norse too fast for you, but the woman seemed to calm, taking the furs from you “… let me have the honor of gifting some of my masterpieces to the future queen”.

Again, you were confused and embarrassed by the mention of you as a ‘queen’, but nodded softly thanking her and letting Hvitserk handle everything else, since you felt like you were a complete stranger to these traditions.

He contracted swiftly with the old woman, who mumbled something about sending you the furs in your tent, so you didn’t have to carry them for the entire city.

“… thank you” you mumbled one last time, meeting her determined stare, as she moved towards you a bit too close for comfort and gently pulled on your cloak to make you lower yourself.

“You are more special than you think, little one”.

You were almost thankful when Hvitserk dragged you away, feeling lightheaded by the way the woman had talked to you.

As you were again in the crowd, Hvitserk calmly spoke:

“I’ll Ivar drop some coins to her tonight or this afternoon, don’t worry” he promised, talking as if it was natural and you couldn’t help but feel a bit ashamed.

“I can… I have some spare money” and jewels, too many for your liking.

“You belong in our family” he spoke again, as if it was natural to him as breathing, turning to you with a soft smirk “… you are my family now, so what is our is yours”.

The truthfulness of his words broke your heart in a way that made you feel even more ashamed for the spying your father had meant to do here.

“… thank you” you mumbled simply, moving further in order to let the crowd around you distract yourself, as you tried to shift your attention towards anything else.

The rest of the morning passed softly and without any true conversation, other than Hvitserk talking about various things about the culture, as you took a stroll around the stalls.

Hvitserk bought sweets he shared with you, meanwhile you were attracted by the beautiful sculptures of the gods, but didn’t dare to speak out loudly your interest, worried that they might try to offer you them again.

You didn’t want to take advantage of them.

And then Hvitserk’s eyes were caught by a beautiful girl, a cheery blonde dressed as a man, an obvious sign that she was a shieldmaiden, a female warrior.

He exchanged with the girls a few stares, enough to make you feel invisible and bothering him to the point where you suggested he just went to talk with her.

‘I won’t lose myself in the stalls’ in fact the small market had a clear end and it had started losing a bit of its original crowd, the warriors moving to eat and the merchants slowly starting to count the coins they had made.

You had also seen a bench where you could sit more comfortably and maybe hide even better.

“… are you sure?” as much as Hvitserk seemed taken by the girl he had a bit of difficulty letting you go, worry washing over his face and with the way he seemed so careless and lighthearted you could only think that it was because he had received direct orders from Ivar to keep you under his watch.

“Never make a lady wait” you taunted him and he sent you a soft smile, one you wished Ivar also owned, before he strutted off smirking devilishly at the woman, exactly as you imagined a young demon to do.

You waited onto the bench, your figure hidden further by your cloak in a sat position as you tried to think about a way to get information through Ivar, when he clearly didn’t want you between his toes.

You could try to sweeten him, but the proposal of spending time together as newlyweds had clearly made him on edge and you had no idea of how you could have your husband trust you when he barely let you in.

You felt that although you might parade yourself in your best dress Ivar would have still ignored you, which frustrated you more than you were open to admit.

You found comfort in thinking that you might have talked about it with Heahmund so that he might have told you what to do in these cases, what men might be interested in.

He seemed to be quite experienced in that ambit.

You knew that the ‘righteous warrior’ wasn’t so righteous once a woman appeared in front of him and once you and Father Peter had almost caught him with a desperate widow, him consoling her ‘properly’.

You weren’t sure how much Ivar and him might have in common, but you felt more comfortable talking with him than with Hvitserk.

He was the only link to your family now that your sisters were gone.

You were left from thinking about your dark thoughts, till a shadow loomed over you and quickly sat near to you, immediately catching your attention since you thought it to be Hvitserk.

But you were surprised to find that he was Harald’s brother, the man who had looked at you with pity in his eyes, at the wedding.

But now his eyes held a curiousness that made you shrink in yourself, as he lightly bowed his head to you, obviously trying to catch your attention.

“… princess (Y/N), I am so glad to have caught you alone, on this lovely day” his tone was definitely overly chatty, evidently a bit out of his comfort zone, something between the lines of cherry and insulting “… are you enjoying the market?”.

“Very much” you tried to keep your words curt and short “… I am sorry but I didn’t quite catch your name, yesterday”.

You knew better than to be the one who knew less about the other.

“Halfdan, Halfdan the Black” he spoke up, a proud smile, on his face as he turned to you not hiding the quick look of disdain in his eyes as they ranked over your body, almost making you feel naked “… the brother of Harald, king of Norway”.

You remembered his brother: he had tried to anger desperately Ivar, making him ashamed in front of everyone.

“Why ‘the Black’?” his nickname made your attention perk up as you raised up your head to look at him in the eyes, showing him that although you were nervous and embarrassed, you weren’t scared.

“I don’t think that it would be proper to talk about it with a lady” he muttered back, aggressiveness clear in his tone.

“I am not a lady, I am a princess” you spoke back, trying to keep your back straight as you kept looking at him in the eyes.

He seemed taken aback by your words: although your tone had kept itself mild, the words were piercing, almost as the gaze you shot him back.

“… I might start seeing why Ivar has chosen you” he mumbled under his breath “… did he choose you for your frisky character? Or for your pretty legs?”.

You were confused and a bit offended, mostly for his accusing tone.

Nobody would have talked to you like that straight up in your face, back home.

Maybe behind your shoulders, but you didn’t know how to react properly at such a facial invective choosing to just shoot him an incredulous look.

“You have no right to talk to me like that” you shot indignantly back, looking through the crowd for Hvitserk.

You had been aware that there might be some protests against you, but so direct and frontal…?

You weren’t expecting it.

“… they said that you consumed your marriage” he discarded your indignant reply, and his tone was even more teasing “…but we all know that your prince couldn’t…”.

“… my prince couldn’t what?” now embarrassment was written all over your face and your tone was raised lightly, your reply more emotional than you would have liked “… I suggest that you don’t finish that phrase”.

“I’ll teach you something, little girl: you can’t threaten an alley” but his tone seemed amused at your reply “… your husband knows of your fierce character, or is it only reserved for men who don’t call you, princess?”.

You couldn’t help but feel like that all these spiteful talk wasn’t exactly meant to be rightful or meaningful, but they were meant to distract you from the real argument.

So, you stopped taking in Halfdan’s words, and looked at him in the face, his secure behavior seemed out of place in a body that did all it could to shrink himself away from you, something you had done too many times, back in the day.

And you realized that he was also a second child, living in the shadow of his brother and everything that he did or said should have been linked to him.

You got up from the bench, effectively wanting to distance yourself from the huge man, who seemed taken aback from the sudden action, but he soon gave you a teasing smirk, expecting you to run.

But you stood your ground and spoke:

“Whatever your and your brother’s business is with my husband, I suggest you to quit these provocations, before they get too much for you to handle. You are a man not a child”.

And you were almost ready to be slapped, remembering perfectly how much a slap would sting your cheek, every time your father struck Katherine for speaking back.

You had never dared to, too scared to be able to raise your voice.

But you were in a different land, far away from your father, with a new master, but his leash at least was looser.

You were already cowering a bit away, your gaze set away from him to search for Hvitserk till a sincere laugh left Halfadan’s mouth.

“… that crippled bastard is luckier than he thinks” he replied softly, shooting you a sincere look.

“Halfdan!” Hivsterk’s voice surprised you, startling you but you were thankful to see him “… thank you for keeping company to my sister”:

The way he mumbled ‘sister’ was an obvious proof of his possessiveness and you were more than happy to hide behind him lightly, although Halfdan now had a sincere grin on his face, shadowed lightly by his hair.

“I had quite a nice time talking with her, don’t worry” he raised up quickly, moving away, through the crowd.

You let out a huff of breath as the man disappeared finally making you feel like you were allowed to relax, before you suggested, whispering it softly in Hvitserk’s ears:

“… may we go back to my tent, I am… tired”.

Although you had barely walked one meter, you felt emotionally exhausted and Hvitserk nodded, offering you gentlemanly a hand as he brought you back inside your tent.

That was enough outside world for the day.

---

You had spent the time in the tent improving your Norse, alongside Hvitserk, who would help you with the pronunciation and the writing, although he seemed much less versed than you had thought.

‘It was Ivar’s idea’ he had justified it, as he checked your writing of runes ‘… I am not exactly the smart brother, here’.

‘At least you are making me company’ you had grumped down in Saxon, before sending him a seraphic smile.

You had processed this way till lunch time, when Hvitserk’s stomach had started grumbling and you had smirked remembering Abigail: they would have probably stormed into a kitchen and stolen any food there.

And probably got stomachache with all the food.

‘Do you think that Ivar has eaten?’ you had asked softly, as you moved into the dining hall, the same one they had organized for your first meeting with Ivar, seeming less crowded than by night.

A few servants ran around taking care of what looked like the royalty of Vikings, and there you found Bjorn, the big bear, who sent you a roaring salute to which you bowed, again unable to wash away the sensation that everyone was looking at you.

‘I don’t think he has’ replied Hvitserk as you both sat down, and a brunette servant a few years younger than you brought you two plates with what looked like stew and smelt delightfully.

The small thrall looked at you, surprised but then moved away.

“Then maybe I should bring him lunch…” you were aware by the look that Hvitserk had sent you that it wasn’t a good idea, but you had just to go through every possible way to spend time with Ivar, and as he had denied you that morning, you hoped he wouldn’t do the same, now.

“… that is a rather nice idea…” Hvitserk spoke, his face already dripping in the stew “… but I don’t think that my brother would take kindly being interrupted”.

“I just want to try” you modelled your voice to be pleading.

You had learned through your courtiers that a pleading woman was always either an annoyance or a true attraction for men.

Either way they would surrender quickly.

And Hvitserk, probably warned to comply all your wishes and keep you safe and happy nodded his head, although his eyes shone dull, clearly not liking the job he had been given.

You let him finish his stew, not daring to stop him from his beloved food and then he accompanied you with a small tray of wood: your lunch and Ivar’s on it.

Hvitserk convinced Ivar’s guards to let you in, as you smiled prettily at the huge men, who simply looked at you almost as if you were nothing more than a flower they could crush under their shoes.

And as you sneaked past them, you again left a huff of breath.

It would have been a truly difficult thing to adapt your life to all those tall people.

Hvitserk still was stopped by the guards who pushed him with their chest back, effectively separating you from him.

He tried to fight back, more for his own virility than for you, but you shot him a comforting look.

You just hoped it would work also on you.

A guard gave you indication to find Ivar, he had recently finished an inking session and was elaborating some strategical plans.

Which meant that you could have also gotten some information.

And you did.

More than you expected.

You were frozen on your spot as you heard shouts in Norse, but instead of cowering away from the bullpen you moved closer, trying to be discreet, as you balanced the tray on one hand to raise your dress to secure you faster movements.

And then slowly you recognized the voice, Ivar’s unmistakable one and Ubbe’s, which surprised you because you weren’t honestly expecting a man like that to shout so furiously, but you kept your mouth closed.

“… you are overthrowing the natural order of things!” shouted the blonde prince.

“I am doing what father would have wanted to do! What you and Hvitserk don’t have the balls to do!”.

Ivar’s rage resembled the way he had spoken to you when the ring had been dropped.

You couldn’t help but be nervous with that side of him, but you tried to calm yourself with the thought that it wasn’t used against you.

“You are destroying our family! That’s the shit that you are doing!” replied promptly Ubbe, and you felt him move a heavy step forward “… just like you did with Sigurd!”.

The name caught your interest, but also the way Ivar replied, something being thrown against the door, definitely told you, it wasn’t something you should think about bringing up with him.

“… you always have to fucking tell me all this shit, don’t you?!” shouted back Ivar “… he was insulting my virility! Believe me I am…”.

“You aren’t” Ubbe’s tone was serious, damnably serious, having grown quieter suddenly, enough to make you hear Ivar’s deep intake of breath “… you never were, you are simply damnably prideful and ambitious and can’t see that it’ll break us apart, that it is already breaking us apart”.

A silence fulfilled the space between you two and you felt Ubbe shifting closer.

“… you are married brother, enjoy it” he continued on speaking “… I am sure that you haven’t even consumed your marriage, although the blo…”.

Another sudden hit of something against the wall made you uneasy.

Ubbe stormed away from the room and in his hurry almost crashed onto you, who were slowly turning to hide away yourself from them, and were secretly thankful when the man was more attentive to his sudden outburst, gently grabbing your trail, to let you adjust your dress.

“… didn’t see you there, sorry my princess” he commented, sending you a look to apologize “… what are you doing here?”.

“… bringing the lunch to Ivar!” you replied quickly, trying to hide any threatening intention.

“I don’t think that would be a good idea”.

“I don’t also think that it was a good idea to shout against him” you didn’t know where all this disobedience came from: you used to be the small little mouse who hid itself behind her sisters’ shadows.

But it seemed that you would need to use your teeth and nails for this.

“… you know nothing of this” he replied directly, and you knew you should have backed up, but you had dared more.

“I know that the marriage was consummated” you pushed back “… you know nothing about what happens in our bedroom and I suggest you don’t put your nose there anymore”.

Ubbe seemed shocked, exactly like Halfdan had been of your previous outburst, and then moved away muttering something darkly, as he moved away, almost bumping in the guards.

You collected yourself a minute, your own outburst leaving a light blush on your cheeks, but you hadn’t much time, and gently pushed your hair away from your face, the few strands that had come off from your lazy updo.

And then you knocked.

A gruff voice advised you that Ivar ‘wasn’t in the mood to talk with Ubbe, anymore’.

“It isn’t Ubbe, it is (Y/N)!” you thrilled happily, trying to make the atmosphere more relaxed.

And Ivar came quickly to you, opening the door with a tight expression, making you uneasy, but you kept your smile.

Your smile would have never been the summer typhon Katherine’s was, but you had to be satisfied with a small spring breeze.

“… wife” he muttered simply, but something in his had calmed down “… what are you doing here?”.

“I brought you lunch” you commented gently, holding up the tray and honest surprise shone on his face as you smirked softly at him.

He quickly took it from your legs, balancing it onto one of his crutches and almost closed the door in your face, before you added:

“I did think that we could have eaten together… maybe” or maybe not, from the startled look on your face.

And then your stomach grumbled loudly, and Ivar smirked, letting out a small laugh.

“Did they even feed you in your castle or are you simply a hungry beastie as Hvitserk?”.

Although the insult he opened the door further for you to slip inside.

“I’ll gladly pass over the fact that you just called me ‘beastie’ “ Ivar tried to complain that he meant it with affection, but you shushed him further, putting the trail onto the small table in the room, no paper or map anywhere on it, but you tried to seem at your ease “… and about the fact that you compared me to Hvitserk”.

“You are right” he replied pushing out a chair for you “… you are smarter”.

“Let me give you some matrimonial advice: don’t insult your wife” you replied, sitting down with a huge huff, making him smile cunningly at you as he sat on the other side of the table.

“… everybody seems so keen to give me marital suggestions” he mumbled, a cloud of annoyance appearing on his face “… but yours is good”.

Again, the intensity of his gaze made you divert your attention, all too happy to focus it on the food.

Ivar quickly did the same, and you couldn’t help but notice the ruthless way he proceeded to eat, in a voracious way you weren’t used to, and made you almost laugh at him, definitely feeling more at ease with your ‘messy eating’, one of the many reasons why you had been always kept away during the ceremonial dinners.

“… did you like it?” he asked, once your plate was finished.

“It was extremely delicious” you smiled at him “… I have never eaten something like that”.

Or so much.

Usually you were expected to leave at least half of the food in your plate, but this wasn’t the case.

“How did you find your staying in here?” Ivar’s words were careful and attentive, as if he was choosing the best ones “… did Hvitsersk show you around properly?”.

“He was a perfect company…” and immediately your hand shot out to his, making him raise his eyes at him, confused and startled, almost like a caged animal “… but I still wished it would have been you”.

“You don’t have to pretend” his voice was harsh enough to make you retreat your hand, almost burned “There is no need to fake feelings that you don’t have”.

“That isn’t true…” you spoke back “… I would just like for us…”.

But before you could utter more, another knock came from the door, pushing Ivar to raise up without sparing you glance.

And you tried to push down any kind of bad feeling for his rejection to look around the room, trying to see something out of its place, but as your room, it was in perfect order and Ivar soon came back, a wicked smile on his lips.

“Well well! My gift for you my lady has come!” he smiled brightly, gently pushing you onto your feet, and although his mood was strange, you followed the cheeriness of it “… would you like to see it?”.

And you had immediately nodded.

But as soon as you had seen the gift you had realized that maybe you should have been less cheerful.

Ten women were in your tents, their hands all bound together through a thick rope and their faces bearing some kind of bruises.

Only two of them were Vikings, meanwhile the others were Saxons, wealthy ones mostly by the clothes they were wearing: tattered and broken in some parts, but still expensive enough to make them daughters of local lords.

The one the Vikings had conquered.

“What is the meaning of this” you shouted turning to Ivar.

Was he playing some kind of joke on you?

He had told you he would respect you, but this all seemed as a damnable tease for you and your people.

“You didn’t think I wouldn’t give you thralls, did you?” he replied, his tone truly ecstatic “… they are your people, so you’ll feel more comfortable”.

“This is not a gift for me” you spoke back, maybe more ardently than you should have, a dare in your tone “… this is an insult”.

Ivar’s smirk on his face completely lost itself and he turned to the guard holding the end of the robe bounding the prisoners, shouting something that seemed ‘get out’.

And then he turned to you.

He came a step closer to you than you would have liked, and you were well aware nobody was in the tent except you and him,

And you were well aware of what a scorned man could do to a lonely woman.

“… it is a gift and you should be thankful” he simply spat out.

“There are children in there!” you shot back, high on adrenaline.

A few of the slaves were barely older than Abigail and a few younger, two seemed only children and although you were aware that that wasn’t a problem for many people, it was for you.

“You are barely a child and were sold off so easily” the insult cut you deeper than you would have liked and you couldn’t help but take a small breath, shifting away from Ivar “… (Y/N), you know what I…”.

“Release the children” you spoke softly, your voice wavering a bit for the sadness you weren’t able to drown “… at least the children: you know they won’t be useful, and this is just cruel”.

“Maybe you don’t know it, but…” he replied quickly, shooting out to you, but you stopped him, gaining all your strength.

“…I know that you keep them as hostages, for their families, I am not that stupid, I might have been a child, but I am not an idiot” you retorted quickly and this time he was the one taken aback from your words, backing up and stumbling with his legs “… but this is not something that you can simply push off and onto me. That is my people, I won’t see them reduced to chains”.

“You all already are reduced in chains” he mumbled and although his words were vicious his tone was lighter, as if he was doubting his ideas “… they are just not that evident”.

“… I am already in chains, you don’t have to put anyone int hem for a father’s mistake” you spoke back “… just the children that’s all I ask”.

“This will show that I am weak” although his words were spiteful, their meaning meant he was considering it.

“It won’t” you spoke back, your hands reaching out for his “… gentleness is the greatest virtue we can show to humanity”.

“Maybe for your Christian god! Not for me” but his body language spoke of being tired of that small fight, as if he hadn’t expected you to confront him.

“I don’t need ten slaves, free six” you started negotiating.

You might not have been the rebel daughter, but you had been the stubborn one.

“… not going to happen” he turned to straighten his admission.

“Five” you breathed out and he turned, a bright smile in his eyes, your stubbornness making this funny for him.

“Two”.

“Four”.

“Two”.

“Three”.

You let out a breath of relief, at his admission but as you turned to thank him, he was already gone and you couldn’t help but feel your chest damnably heavy.

All the words crashing through you.

And you felt on the bed, already tired.

Desperately wanting to go home.

---

You woke with gentle but stern touches on your arm, and as you shifted your eyes to finally accommodate your sight to the light absence of the sun, since the sunset had already passed.

And when your face turned to the source of the tenderness being bestowed upon you, you recognized the eyes of the old woman, in the thralls group: her eyes were a lighter shade of blue as if they had been discolored like her hair by the passing of time.

“My lady” she spoke in a heavily accented Saxon and you nodded lightly a bit numbed by the hours spent sleeping “ … we prepared you a bath, would you like any help for it?”.

With the way you stank you couldn’t help but agree for the bath, putting yourself in an upright position, rubbing your fists on your sore eyes, as a tired pup, and as your eyes finally focused you realized that the old servant wasn’t the only one.

The ten thralls that had been Ivar’s gift were all staring at you: a few seemed too shy to actually meet your eyes, others stared at you confusedly, as if they hadn’t expected you to act like that…

… which was strange also so you.

And finally only two other people looked at you differently from the rest: the other Viking thrall, a few years younger than you but with a striking maturity in her eyes, that followed your movements shyly but attentively, as if she was used to follow any order she was given.

And the other person was a Saxon girl, beautiful in every way you wouldn’t be: light fluent black hair cornering perfectly an angelic face, complete with beautiful green eyes, set up in a feline and languid form.

She wore a bloodied golden dress, with an heavy cleavage and a long trail, tattered by dirt and mud, but she didn’t seem to even care about any of those things, sat upon one of your trunks as if it was a throne and she was hosting her own court.

She looked at you coldly: an obvious challenge in her eyes.

And you were caught in that pitiful state that made you lower your eyes immediately, and you quickly realized you had lost the first battle.

But honestly you hadn’t even the strength to feel bad for it.

You let the older thrall guide you to the bath, giving you the privacy of undressing and slipping in the bathtub, helping you in it as the younger one, filled the water with an oil that smelled deliciously.

The tender water, warm enough to comfort you, dripped you further down the uneasiness of your sleepy body, but you fought it needing to be as lucid as you could, after the small fighting with the girl outside.

Clearly the Saxons girls were looking up at her and she had no gentleness towards you, which might be dangerous.

Although you hated the thought of owning servants, you knew better than to let them command you like that, even more after what you had done and talked about with Ivar.

Now it wasn’t no secret that he thought that you were ‘weak’ in his eyes, and you needed to prove him that it wasn’t like that, in any way.

You had gained his sympathy as easily as you had lost it.

Although the entire thought of it hurt you in a way that made you uneasy to approach him again, it made your mind colder and more lucid about you true task in the camping.

So far the only thing that you had discovered was that Halfdan and Harald were desperately trying to get on both yours and your husband’s nerves, although you couldn’t help but feel like Halfdan’s taunting had had a proper purpose although it was simply messing around with you.

He wanted to test you.

He had wanted to see who you truly were.

And you knew exactly why.

You exited the bath with a new knowledge and new strength, the younger thrall immediately rushing to you with a towel to wrap you up in it comfortably and although you didn’t meet her gaze embarrassed, you thanked her softly, blushing.

She simply squeaked away, embarrassment also upon her cheeks, as the older thrall fastened the towel on your chest, as she moved another towel on your hair to dry them, before she started braiding them loosely and comfortably.

She let you dress on your own and as you were in your undergarments, she reappeared with one of your dresses, a light blue one with silver decorations on the upper part and long open sleeves.

“Turid is mute my child” she explained, as she fastened the laces on the back of your dress “… she saw her mother drowning and never came back from that”.

You couldn’t help but feel an immediate pity for her, but tried to focus onto the older woman: she might be an interesting alley, she had a motherly behavior which you couldn’t help but appreciate, but she still made sure to show you the obstacle between you and her.

The different social level.

Still you leaned in her gentleness as she dusted off your dress, before she proceeded to adjust your neckline, as she took a lighter cloak to add to the entire complex, one of those that Hvitserk had graciously dropped off for you.

As you returned a few of the children had sat down on your bed, meanwhile the black-haired beauty continued on hosting her court completely unbothered by your presence as you appeared on the threshold of the main room, showing yourself.

Thankfully her ‘courtiers’ weren’t so shameless and turned to you.

A child, most of all, seemed surprised enough to move over to you, her childish naivety disrupting any etiquette or protocol as another girl who looked like her older sister, barely twelve, tried to stop her, but you raised your hand letting the child come at you.

She touched your dress curiously, probably surprised by the intricate details on it shining brightly as they caught the light.

“… you look so pretty” she spoke slowly as you let her sat beside you on the huge bed, helping her up, as you sent a smile to everyone else in the room “… like a princess in the stories Mary tells me before going to sleep!”.

You couldn’t help but be startled by the child’s soft words.

“Mary is your sister, right?” you asked, looking at the older girl who smiled shyly at you “… you must be a wonderful sister to tell her these amazing stories!”.

“Thank you, my princess” she spoke, a soft tone as she smirked lightly, still embarrassed but she couldn’t hide the pride “… they help me ease my mind away from… everything”.

“You’ll go home tomorrow” you announced softly, pushing a few strands of blonde hair away from the small child’s face and she looked at you confused before you spoke again “… you’ll meet your mom and dad again”.

This got an ecstatic smile from the child who went straight to hug you something which surprised you and made even the black-haired beauty stop talking to send you a look to see how you reacted to the hug.

And you couldn’t help but gently hug the child back, careful of her miniscule body, as you held her close, before you turned to your fellow Saxon people gently smiling at them.

“I am sorry, but I wasn’t able to negotiate for nothing more than for three of you to be released, but it is my intention to speak with my husband again and…”.

“… and maybe by the next year we’ll all be free” completed under her breath the brunette girl, standing up straighter as her golden dress highlighted itself as it caught the light: she looked more beautiful now, without a bath and in a dirtied dress than you looked in a proper dress and after a shower “… I was a lady back home! I am not going to serve you”.

You were struck, but you didn’t lose your breath as you slowly tried to calm yourself down.

You were being undermined, which was something that could matter highly on the perception of these people.

So far, they could also be allies, hence you needed to calm yourself and collect yourself.

Both your father and Ivar wouldn’t have wasted a single second to punish such insolence, but you weren’t simply able to do such a thing.

“It is true” you spoke with a steadiness that you didn’t know you owned as you pushed yourself up onto your feet, standing a few feet taller than her, sat down on the trunks.

She was surprised by you speaking back to her but hide it well.

“… I don’t expect any of you to serve me but remember that we are all in a stranger’s house, that we have only each other for protection”.

Your word sounded twisted in your own mouth, but you held them together with a serious glare as you moved your eyes on each of the girls, trying to test out their loyalty.

“… you think that simply because you have screwed him, you have some power over him” she spoke back to you and you couldn’t help but blush to her words, but stood your ground “… he’ll kill you as easily as he did with any Saxon soldiers that has crossed his path”.

“But still I got him to release three of you” you spoke back, letting a smirk appear on your face “… he might be ruthless, but I know how to make him act civil”.

“Those are just empty words” she spoke back, but as she turned around she seemed to understand she had lost the favor of anyone, there and she sent you a direct look, before she turned around avoiding your gaze “… he will never ever be civil, he is a Viking for God’s sake”.

“He is a human like you and me” you shouted back, letting more emotion than you had thought in the phrase and a light blush covered your cheeks.

“… to be human you need a heart and be warned princess, he doesn’t have any”.

The last words were a clear slap and you were almost glad when Hvitserk appeared with a few guards from the tent, putting you out of the misery to reply to the girl, suddenly feeling guilty of not having even known the name of such a worthy opponent.

Hadn’t she been already so set on hating you, you would have found her a welcome alley.

“Princess (Y/N), dinner is ready” he said, sending a weirded look at the strange atmosphere as the older woman moved to collect your cloak adjusting it onto your back as she brushed the braid out of it.

“Just leave me a minute” you asked him as he retreated, before shooting the girls a look “I’ll be back after dinner and we’ll talk further, for every necessity you can come to me”.

And as you were trespassing the tent’s threshold you turned one last time and mumbled.

“… sometimes owning a soul is not enough to be human”.

---

Dinner was spent again with simply you and Hvitserk, but you were almost grateful for the chance since you were able to clear your head from the discourse and to plan a way to get the Saxons women to collaborate with you.

“… are you upset?” asked Hvitserk, seeing you toying with your food “… and are you going to finish that?”.

You just moved the enormous piece of meat in his plate, glad that you hadn’t the complex etiquette you had back in court and glad that everyone was too busy chatting to notice you.

The atmosphere was so warm that you couldn’t help but be a bit cheered on by the atmosphere.

“Hvitserk?” you asked, turning to him so suddenly you caught him with meat in his mouth “… may I ask you a suggestion about Ivar?”.

“My favorite subject” he mumbled, spiting out partially the meat in his mouth.

“… do I displease him in some way?” you asked, blushing lightly “… he seems so cold with me”.

“Don’t take it personal, princess, he is Ivar” he replied sending you a soft look “… he is cold with everyone”.

You had decided to ask such a thing to Hvitserk because although he was a Viking he had seemed pretty nice with you, whether he was doing it on his brother’s orders or because he felt pity for you.

“… I just wish…” you smiled at him sadly “… it would be easier”.

“We all do” he replied, before he chugged a good gulp of mead “… but it wouldn’t be half funny if it was”.

You nodded, although you didn’t agree with him wholeheartedly.

“… he’ll warm up to you, soon, still…” and he then moved to come closer to you, gently pushing an arm around you “… he would be a stupid man to lose such a beauty”.

You couldn’t help but blush both for Hivtserk’s compliment and touch: no man had ever come that close to you and you couldn’t help but be a bit taken aback as you took in Hvitserk’s distinctive smell, mainly and tough, his rough beard lightly rubbing at your soft neck.

You immediately pushed yourself away, coughing, at the closeness Hvitserk had assumed: no woman should have been so close to a man who wasn’t her husband, back home, but the women in the camp seemed so liberal.

They were discussing with them as if they were their exact equals something that fascinated you, even more when a woman dared a man for a knife-throwing competition, remembering you about the bow you had been gifted.

You were sure you could find someone who would teach you that.

But would they be willing?

The brunette Saxon had remembered you again that you sadly weren’t exactly well-loved although Hilde’s reaction at the market would say otherwise.

“… when you are finished, tell me, I’ll bring you back to your tent” you were almost thankful for Hvitserk’s suggestion and nodded your head as you moved, raising yourself up and regaining your cloak as Hvitserk did the same, saluting the beautiful girl you had seen at market.

Who shot him a languid look, in an obvious show that Hvitserk wasn’t simply worried about your tiredness.

Still you couldn’t blame the boy: he had basically had to be your handmaiden for the entire day so you could deal with staying in your tent, almost desiring the privacy of it, hadn’t you realized that the girls would be there.

You almost missed the peace before their arrival.

You wished Hvitserk ‘good luck’ as he left you on the threshold and he looked extremely smug, bowing lightly as you came back in the tent, all the girls sat around the room, in what looked like a whispered discourse.

About you, since they all quit talking to each other as you entered.

Turid came to quickly collect your cloak as Solveig asked whether you had felt cold the previous night and needed other furs.

You said you didn’t, but made sure to tell her to take a few for herself, Turid and the others, who seemed to beam at that gracious offer, the brunette beauty now held a much smaller court, but she still regarded you with hateful eyes.

“… again, if you need anything, just come to me” you spoke in Saxon and repeated the same things to the older woman and Turid, who bowed their head, the former smirking a bit “Now I’d like to know all your names”.

They all looked around like shy bird, daring each other to speak, and then the small child who had called you ‘the princess of her stories’ moved to you and bowed lightly, with a childish deference that made you smirk.

“… I am Delilah”.

You nodded gracefully as her sister Mary stepped up beside her, and then another girl, blondish and with light eyes came forward, bowing and uttering her name, Sophie.

Then came forward the older Viking woman no bowing to you but her face held a genuine smile and her eyes devotion.

‘Solveig’ and then all the other girls stepped forward, one after the other, and you tried to test their loyalty: some seemed more convinced than others, but you didn’t get too much resistance, which was a step forward.

And you finally were in possession of the brunette beauty’s name, Angelika.

Pretty proper.

You chatted a bit more with them, informing yourself about from where they had been taken and who was waiting back home.

You would have sent back both Delilah and Mary home, alongside Christine, an eight-year-old, minimizing the children among them, to simply two, two ten years old that you had put in Solveig’s care.

‘It’s been a long time since I was a wet nurse’ she had complained, but had still taken the two children willingly, to get them ready for bed.

The thralls didn’t sleep with you, having their own tent which you could only guess could be crowded for seven women, even more if half of them had an ego as big as Angelika.

You were still happy to have company, people who were like you, who at least shared a few of your traits, such as missing home.

Your small talk was interrupted by a quick cough and as you turned to the flap of the tent, you caught a glimpse of your husband, waiting on his crutch with a wondering smirk, suddenly turning into a teasing one as all the girls showed their fear for him.

“… you better go and sleep, it is late” you chose to spare them from that show as you bowed lightly at Turid, the mute girl immediately moving towards the tent, forming a bee line with the other girls as they hurried outside, all bowing at a smirking Ivar.

He enjoyed extremely the submission he had broken in those girls’ heart and you couldn’t help but, again, realize how different you were.

Would you ever match together, truly?

You got off your bed, as you talked with the girls you had changed in your nightgown, a long flowy one that covered completely your body, almost as much as the dress you had worn that day.

You had let your hair down from the small braid and they fell on your back in small curls, covering even further anything which was revealed by Ivar’s hidden gazes.

Although he quickly moved himself to hide his face, you felt his light eyes on your body as they followed the hidden curves of your body, in a way that made you tremble.

“Welcome back, husband” you uttered softly, as you bowed and sat onto a chair beside the bed, not daring to enter it as Ivar approached it pushing himself onto the bed as a guard followed him inside.

And once he was sat down, after you had spared an embarrassed look at the guard, the guard helped him out of his braces, the metal that grasped his lower legs in an attempt to keep them straight.

You looked at the gestures, trying to understand how to unlace them so that you could do it yourself, quickly realizing that smaller hands would have worked better, since the man seemed to be pretty clumsy, making Ivar growl in pain.

He barely got one left before Ivar shouted at him to make him go away, moving to pull onto the metallic cast and you crouched down to do the same, Ivar reserving you the same treatment of the previous day when you had bended to take the ring.

But you weren’t scared this time, focused on the mechanism of the braces, fascinated by the creations etched on them, a you swiftly moved your finger through their hooks, unhooking them as you then helped him out of it, with a quickness that the previous guard hadn’t owned.

As you raised your head to meet Ivar’s eyes. they found yours and you smirked lightly, seeing them looking at you surprisedly, definitely not expecting your actions, but you just shot him a quick smirk.

“… thank you” he huffed out, pushing his legs onto the bed as you raised up, helped by a hand of his, which clutched yours tight.

“I can do it for you, each night, from now on” you told him as you overlooked him seeing if he might need something, but by the hazy look in his eyes, he seemed too tired for anything else “… I am a quick learner”.

“That you are” he mumbled, his tone held something between sweetness and annoyance.

“Who did them?” you asked gently, taking one brace in your hand as you twirled it around your hands, looking at it with curiousness, trying to understand the techniques, not having ever been so exposed to a demonstration of practical science, but fascinated nonetheless.

“Me” he replied, as he slithered away from you on the vast bed.

You shot him a surprised look, dropping the braces as you pushed them away from the side of the bed.

“That is… those are amazing creations” you complimented softly but he just nodded as if your words weren’t true “… I mean it”.

“You are too gentle” his tone was almost emotionless, and you retorted back, daring a step further.

“Is that supposed to be an insult?” again you dared more than you had the ability to, but he didn’t seem to mind it too much, turning to you and again the intensity of his questioning gaze made you flinch away your eyes from him.

“I don’t know, yet” he mumbled, before turning away “… I am tired, so I’ll probably fall asleep soon, have a goodnight wife”.

And soon his lids shifted closer, giving you no chance to talk to him, able simply to move yourself into the bed, the farthest corner from him and then slipped a in very not peaceful slumber.

Your only reassurance was that another day had passed.

---

You were woken up by movements beside you, your head no longer projecting the illusion of being home as you moved the blankets and furs away from you and you sat in an upright position, opening your eyes to the tender light in the room, the sun being too low to be truly morning.

You turned to the other side, realizing Ivar had sat there and was trying to lower himself to the ground and as you turned to him, he realized that you were staring at him.

He seemed calmer, almost less guarded as he turned to you softly smiling.

“Sorry to have woken you up”.

You were frozen and surprised, after his continual outbursts of the previous night you almost feel like you were being tricked by his actions.

“Don’t worry, I have always been a restless sleeper” you promised softly at him “… what about you? Why are you awake so early, husband?”.

“Work” his mutter was an huff of annoyance and you couldn’t help but frown, almost wanting to push yourself further and hug him, bringing him back in bed, but didn’t dare to, both scared of what Ivar might do, since although he respected you, he didn’t fully trust you, and of the impure actions you had in mind.

And you couldn’t help but feel like any of those actions would have been greatly disapproved by your father.

It was already… embarrassing to have slept together, although at the extreme corners of the bed.

“We could have lunch together, again” you proposed as you sat in a more comfortable position, trying to get him to talk with you more, and to set up a proper appointment, hoping that the his mood might make it easier for him to talk with you.

And that it might be going on for the entire day.

“… we shall see” it was better than a no and the smirk he sent you left you flushed and worried as you lowered your head nodding “… go back to bed, wife, I’ll tell the thralls to wake you up in a few hours”.

“Don’t scare them” you told him softly and suddenly his good mood disappeared, but he nodded turning himself away from you as he slithered in the room to collect his braces before disappearing behind a secluded area to dress up.

You rolled yourself around bed trying to appear asleep when he returned back, but your body seemed at unease and restless.

You had always been the type to find it difficult to fall asleep, you would either fall asleep completely tired or you would roll around in bed, unable to completely relax as you tried to tire yourself out to get some sleep.

That’s why you had taken the habit of sneaking around by night, something which father Peter encouraged, remaining with you till late at night if you ever needed someone to talk to.

You had also always been an easy sleeper, so it wasn’t hard for you to feel Ivar’s eyes lingering onto your shielded body for a minute more before he stumbled away out of the tent, and you were alone.

As you always did in these cases you moved towards your trunk, checking the knife hidden in silks: the girls had been in your room alone and although all your trunks were locked you wouldn’t have put it past some to try to find something on you, mostly Turid and Solveig.

As much as you liked both, you couldn’t deny the fact that they were very different from you and them belonging to the Vikings ranks would have mattered greatly, hadn’t you done something to make them loyal solely to you.

After you were reassured the knife hadn’t been touched, you dug deeper and found a carpet of books you had laid out beneath all your dresses and picked up the first one you found, a small one with an elegant cover and golden inserts on it, denoting a writing in Latin.

You had taught yourself Latin with the help of father Peter and the use of the Bible till you had managed to read something else and then became more accustomed to the strange language, eventually being able to read all your favorite Latin authors, like Cicero.

Its sarcasm and strong personality definitely came as a reassurance for you, but you soon discarded the book for another, finding “Ars Amatoria” by Ovid, the book that might help you discover what went through men’s head.

You couldn’t help but blush through the erotic side of Ovid’s narration, but tried to sign up a few of the things that were told, before Solveig appeared on the threshold of the tent and you swiftly hid the book beneath your pillow, welcoming the older woman with a soft smile.

“Good morning, my princess” she wished you as slowly all the thralls appeared behind her, changed in cleaner dresses, although they weren’t as rich as the previous ones, but they all seemed much more relaxed, for which you were thankful.

“Good morning Solveig” you smiled, a you raised form the bed, Turid coming behind you immediately, almost as if she was used to helping you as she might have done with Ivar “… I hope you slept well and weren’t too cold”.

“… the… guards and prince Ivar were nicer with us” spoke softly a small girl, a bit older than she seemed, brown hair and deep amber eyes, Lia, if you weren’t wrong “… we had a nice night”.

“I am glad you did” you spoke, trying to look through all the girls who bowed their heads, bigger smiles through their grim appearances except Angelika, but you guessed that you would need more than simple furs to get her to like you “… does anybody like braiding hair?”.

Lia stepped forward:

“I have a smaller sister back home, she is barely five, I always braid her hair” she explained, making your heart swell with sadness “… she is… ruthless. She is always constantly unlacing her hair and making it a mess”.

“My sister Katherine is the exact same!” you giggled, making the girl relax as you gently pushed her to sit next to you “… she would need me to braid again her hair before any important meeting because she would go and run away through the castle”.

Although Lia still seemed at unease, she smiled genuinely.

“… Clelia is always trying to imitate our older brothers, she says that one day she’ll be a knight”.

“Well, she’ll be an amazing knight I am sure” you joked back, softly “… my sister Katherine dreamed of being like Lancelot from the legends about king Arthur, she would make me play Merlin and my sister would be Morgaine”.

Something of recognition shone in Lia’s eyes who relaxed.

“… we would play the same! My brothers even got us a round table!” she spoke, before a veil of nostalgy brought onto her face and you felt like it was better to change your opinion.

“… the reason why I asked who could braid is because… although I have a lot of practice in that matter, I do have to say that I don’t have much on myself, so if you could braid my hair, I would be extremely thankful”.

It was mostly a test, to see if these people would be loyal to you, offering yourself in such an intimate and feminine suggestion.

Lia blushed lightly, but scooted closer asking you to turn around softly and she started braiding as you invited another girl to come further, as your braided her golden hair, and soon you were all immersed in the soft atmosphere of feminine attentions, even Turid, who had big voluminous curly hair were being braided by small Christine.

It was a nice atmosphere definitely making you feel more at ease, almost as if you were again in your castle with your handmaidens, definitely not in a tent in an enemy camp, but you still kept your eyes sharp and attentive on everyone.

Angelika didn’t join the ‘braiding group’, but she still held her court with a few of the youngest thralls for which you were low key grateful, allowing them to try various braiding techniques on her long hair.

Both Solveig and Turid were determinate in their movements, almost mechanical, whereas the Saxons soon replenished the tent with low chatting and you quickly tried to catch onto it.

Something that caught your attention was said by Eleanor, a beauty in her own right, long dirty blonde hair and green eyes, a voluptuous body that her modest clothing didn’t hide, but her eyes held a purity and a shyness that you recognized all too well.

She had been talking with Arabella, a sixteen-year-old with a slim body and a tightness to her limbs that came from nervousness, almost as if she was constantly anxious.

‘… the guards and all these men… they have been looking at me weirdly’ muttered trembling lightly the blonde-haired beauty ‘… prince Hvitserk even went as far as to…’.

But her small confession stopped as the mentioned subject appeared in front of you, an obvious show that your presence was requested, and that he was in charge of you again.

The small chatting had immediately ceased and Solveig moved away with your nightgown, busy adjusting it back in the trunks, as she had dressed you up in a green gown, a bit tight on your stomach, and the skirt fell heavily on your hips, but you smiled through the pain.

Jewels had also been added, a small circlet of golden to crown your beautiful braided hairstyle, for which you had thanked multiple times Lia, the small girl smiling brightly at you, as you reached out for one of her hands.

You took a look of your body in the small mirror at the entrance of the tent and couldn’t help but feel more like your royal self than anything else, keeping your head high, as you bid the girls ‘good morning’.

The three that would be coming back coming with you followed you: the small Delilah cradled in her sister’s arms, meanwhile Christine clutched onto your gown as a child, comforted as you passed a hand through her braid

You led them to the chariot with a few guards on it, that would be taking them home and you slowly encouraged them to move further, but both the children gripped your arms tighter, scared by the men’s behavior.

“… you are going back to your families, sweeties” you softly spoke as you crouched down beside the small children “… your mom and your dad will be so happy to see you”.

“We won’t forget it, princess (Y/N)” spoke softly Mary at your shoulders, a few tears coming down her face as she fidgeted with her hands “… our father might be a small lord, but he’ll know that you freed his daughters and when you’ll need help my princess, just come to us and ask a favor”.

“Do me a favor, Mary” your voice wavered a bit, moved by the child’s offer “… protect your sister and Christine”.

“I will, my princess” she mumbled softly, as the two children loosened their grip on you, but kissed both your cheeks, hugging you tight “… you are a true saint, my princess”.

“Have a safe travel, Mary”.

The girls moved onto the chariot helped by the guards to whom you sent a small thankful smile, before turning to a surprised Hvitserk.

You made sure the chariot exited the camp before you turned to him.

“… Hvitserk I am going to ask something of you” you mumbled, shyly and nervous.

“Just ask and you shall receive” he joked back, but as he turned to face you, finding that your glare was pure steel.

“Don’t ever touch or talk with my handmaidens, again, or I’ll get your eyes out of their sockets”.

And you turned, your gown swishing soundly against the ground as you did so.

Missing Hvitserk’s shocked expression.

---

This time your daily stroll was taken at boat building sites, since you had insisted about a less crowded place and more open, wanting to see the reason why Vikings were so famous and undefeated: their boats.

You had been fascinated by the entire process and you had been looking through everywhere almost as a child with a new toy, Hvitserk barely following you and soon he had lost you, as you threaded through the setting where they covered boats with pitch and where they set up wood.

You had always been a bit excluded by such a practical knowledge and were now taking anything in with interest, as you run around, everybody surprised by your presence but nobody gave you any trouble, even answering your questions as you asked them.

Fear and respect in their eyes.

As you were stopping onto a cliff in front of the vast sea, you felt a presence reaching your side, and turned thinking it must have been Hvitserk, but to your surprise and dreading it was Halfdan.

He hadn’t the cocky expression of the other day, he instead seemed nervous almost uneasy, showing his true colors, for which you were thankful since he wasn’t the only one.

“Princess (Y/N)” he called out to you, bowing slowly his head, more out of circumstance than anything else “… may we talk?”.

“If you are going to insult me, I’d prefer not to” you shot back, the dress having given you a confidence you hadn’t known, a façade different from the one you owned.

“I actually came to excuse my poor behavior, my brother always tells me that my behavior with women… is not… something I should be proud of”.

You were definitely able to feel like Halfdan was sincere in his talk and lowered your steely glance, setting onto the small rock propped up by the cliff, as Halfdan did the same.

“… your apologies are accepted, my lord” you spoke “… but I’d like you and your brother not to use me as a way to get back to my husband”.

He seemed shocked with the way you spoke, having caught the bullseye, something you had thought about in the morning as you read, thinking about the way both the brothers had tried to get a raise out of Ivar.

But what they did with you was testing the waters to see if you’d betray your husband.

“… you see, Halfdan The Black, I might seem naïve and young, but I am not stupid or blind” you talk about it slowly, pushing every word out almost as spitted against him.

“Why then, if you aren’t stupid or blind, do you stay with Ivar?” he spoke, genuinely curious “… he isn’t properly husband material, the way he got so angry at your wedding… it isn’t…”.

This explained the pity glance.

“My God wants a wife to be faithful by her husband’s side, whether in sickness or health, till Death do us apart, I might have rejected my God, but I stand by my beliefs” you spoke slowly “… and I don’t think that you and your brother might offer me something more than my husband”.

And you were already someone else’s spy.

Halfdan didn’t look too shocked by your confession, before he adjusted on the rock, looking around at the sea, the way the grey waves crashed to the shore in a continuous cycle that hypnotized you, your gaze stuck there.

“… you are seriously smarter than I thought” he spoke, making you blush lightly, reverting on your timid personality “… ND you are more interesting than I thought, princess”.

“Then you might want to let me know why you are named Halfdan The Black” you retorted, shifting the argument of your conversation, definitely uneasy with the attention set on you.

“… that princess is a long story” he retorted, a small smile on his face, a bit more at ease with you.

But your conversation was quickly set off by a sudden scream and as you both turned you found a girl the origin of the desperate scream as a man moved to grab onto her hair, pushing her down and pulling onto her hair to bring her back in his tent, as the girl dug her hands onto the ground, to avoid moving further.

You immediately moved forward as Halfdan was immediately behind you and before you even knew it you had pushed onto the man, making him release his hold onto the woman who immediately crawled away, setting herself behind you.

She was different from any woman you had ever seen, her skin darker than yours, a beautiful shade of ebony that completely matched the blackness of her ink-like eyes, as they stared with fierceness the man.

He was older than you, but in a way that was more due to his weight and evil expression on his face than to his actual age, as he moved forward to you with an animalistic growl, getting right on your face.

“… want a fucking lesson too, little whore?” he spoke in Saxon, his tone dripping with venom and alcohol “… I am more than willing to show you…”.

And as his hand was coming down your face, a sheathed sword pulled it back, making the man fall onto his ass as Halfdan came into your view, something savage in his look as he came in front of you.

But the man didn’t desist.

“… don’t you teach your whores to stay out of the fucking way” the entire phrase was too slurred for you to completely understand it, but you understood the dreadful meaning of it.

Again, Halfdan came to rescue, pushing himself in front of you as he pointed the sword at the man, stopping him from getting up.

“Do you know who you just called ‘whore’?” the man shook his head softly “… she is Ivar’s bride, shithead”.

And like that the man’s face grew restless and white, almost as if he had suddenly realized the terrible mistake he had done, backing up slowly from Halfdan and you, who instead overstepped Halfdan and moved to the man.

The fear of God shone in his eyes and you slowly crouched down to him.

“… you better ask forgiveness” you whispered, and the man immediately raised his hands almost to protect himself blabbering forgiveness, but you stopped him immediately “… not to me, but to the lady”.

The beautiful woman who now was looking at the scene from behind Halfdan’s strong legs perked up, her voluminous hair dirty of mud and her dress simply rags patched up together which made you understand why she had tried to run away.

Although the man grimaced at your small order, he did mumble a slow ‘sorry’, and you exchanged a small look with Halfdan who pushed feet onto the man’s protruding stomach, effectively stealing his breath.

“… do it better” and when he stood there without doing anything your anger got the best of you “… beg for forgiveness and don’t make me ask again”.

And the man did, almost starting to cry, something that brought you back from your small moment, as Halfdan released the man kicking him away as you moved towards the woman, who had looked at all the scene, tears slowly slithering onto her dark cheeks.

You approached her carefully, crouching down, uncaring of the mud that got in your dress as you did so, gently helping her up her fragile feet and softly asked her if she was alright.

She seemed shocked by the fact you had spoken with her but quickly nodded, her weigh being suddenly pushed onto you as she slumped in your arms, her feet having given out under her.

Halfdan quickly took her from you, carrying her in his arms easily, as you were suddenly met by Hvitserk, who seemed confused by the entire scene but didn’t dare to question it as you told him to go back to your tent and to advert Solveig of preparing a bath.

Halfdan carried the girl as you tried to check on the her, worried almost as if she was one of your own.

But what caught you and made you raise your eyes from the girl was Halfdan sudden stare fixed on you, a slightly dark smirk on his face.

“I always thought that Ivar would be your undoing…” he mumbled softly “… maybe you’ll be his, only time will tell”.

---

Solveig had almost threatened to push you out of your own tent as you fretted around her worried for the poor woman: she had blood on the hem of her dress, between her legs, which had made the poor Turid almost faint.

All the Saxons ladies had been pushed out and as much as you hated separating Solveig and Turid from the rest of them, using them for manual actions, you thought it would have only scared the girls, even further the younger ones, who were playing with Lia and Arabella, outside, under the watchful eyes of Halfdan and Hvitserk.

‘Do you think that she’ll… she’ll feel better soon?’ you asked continuously at the older woman as you had slowly dropped the girl in your bathtub, after you had discarded her clothes.

You had tried not to look at her body, the Christian modesty you owned closing your eyes, but you hadn’t been able to avoid witnessing the scars that decorated the woman’s body, all recent and you could only guess what that horrid man had done to her.

You couldn’t help but have memories of what had happened a lot of years ago to another woman, who had her body branded by scars, under her rich clothes.

That’s why you had moved in and that’s why you felt so so damnably tense at the thought of that woman never opening her eyes again.

She did it, finally, waking up as one would from a cruel nightmare, moving her body without a true order as she splashed the water, enough that both you and Solveig rushed to bind her arms, making her only pronounce other words you didn’t know, unknown also to Turid, who had rushed in with a towel for the woman.

“You are alright” you spoke softly in her ear, slowly releasing your grip onto her arm as you told Solveig to do the same “… that man won’t hurt you anymore”.

She seemed taken aback, needing a moment to process your words and then she dipped in the water, her hand raising high and her words seemed prayers, thankful for being free, as her voice broke pitifully and she was overcome by a cry.

You dismissed Solveig and Turid, knowing all too well that whenever such bare emotions were uttered one didn’t need a crowd and she softly turned to you, her face being again stained by tears as you softly hushed her, holding her close.

“… thank you, my lady, thank you” she cried and you softly smirked.

“Don’t worry, no woman should ever be treated like that” you spoke, gently handing out a hand for her as you grabbed the towel Turid had brought, turning around to give her some privacy.

“You are… you are the… younger prince’s bride, aren’t you?” she asked as her voice wavered a bit, evidently wanting to shift the conversation away from herself, and you didn’t blame her since you were a stranger to her.

“… yes, I am, I am princess (Y/N)” you told her, bowing lightly “… and you are?”.

“My name is not... understandable in this tongue… but since I came here my father… he called me Caryn” she told you, slowly lowering her voice, something delicate and intimate in her talk, but you didn’t push her further.

“… that’s a beautiful name” you mumbled as you helped her out of the bathtub “… can I leave you with Solveig and Turid, now? I’ll check on the other girls”.

“Of course, my princess, I am sorry if I said you were a lady…” she started rambling and you just smiled at her, grabbing softly her coarse hands.

“… no need Caryn, I am just happy if I can make you feel a bit better”.

And you exited to control on the girls and more importantly the men, but Hvitserk was careful to look at anywhere else that wasn’t the girl, whereas Halfdan’s eyes were set onto you.

“How is the girl?” he asked, softness shining in his eyes.

“Bruised but holding on” you told him and released a soft breath, before he asked you and Hvitserk to join him for lunch.

“I don’t know if I…” you shot a small look worried for Caryn “… can you bring me lunch here?”.

“First she threatens me and then orders me around…” mumbled Hvitserk annoyedly “… she is becoming too spoiled”.

“I do think that she’ll be funnier than we think” retorted Halfdan.

And you smirked at him, before turning, the light circlet on your head catching light, almost as a lightning as you drove back in the tent.

You had saved a life today.

And maybe God would have seen it and decided to help you.

Or maybe you had helped yourself out of this shit.

---

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#Ivar #Ivar The Boneless #Ivar Reader #Ivar the Boneless Reader #Ivar the Boneless x Reader #Ivar x Reader #Ivar Imagine #Ivar The Boneless Imagine #Ivar Fic #Ivar The Boneless Fic #Ivar Angst #Ivar The Boneless Angst #Vikings #Vikings Imagine #Ivar The Boneless Fanfic #Ivar Fanfic #Ivar The Boneless Fan Fic #Ivar Fan Fic

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jjoannedarte · 4 years ago

Photo

Advertorial Campaign Mood Boards | Footwear, Fragrance and Eyewear

Given the theme of my magazine’s issue is “Mods”, short for “Modifications”, focusing on the future of fashion and beauty, I decided the advertisements shown within the magazine should follow suit.

Due to having limited resources, I chose the most futuristic / fashion forward items I own and decided to advertise them based on different sci-fi aesthetics.

My footwear advertisement will have a “space theme”, focusing on the darker aesthetics based on the films “Alien” and “Interstellar”. I hope to make the shoes look like they are floating in space with ominous fluorescent lights reflecting off them and scientific imagery surrounding them.

My fragrance advertisement will be based off Thierry Mugler’s fragrance “Angel Nova”. Drawn from its eccentric shape and vibrant color, I decided to base this photoshoot’s aesthetic on the glam rock approach to futurism, inspired by the likes of Elton John and David Bowie. The name “Angel Nova” alludes to the natural phenomenon “Supernova”, which is a stage of development of starts when a large explosion occurs, hence, I want my advertisement to reflect the idea of an explosion of fragrance and color.

My eyewear advertisement will have a more robotic theme than the rest. Films like “Ex-Machina” make us reflect on the humanity of non-living things, and just like robots are able to have personalities (in science fiction, at least), so are clothes and accessories. I want this photoshoot to look very sterilized, almost like the inside of a high tech hospital where the only way to show one’s personality is via eyewear. In this way, I hope to emphasize the importance of fashion in an ever more homogenized society.

#fashion #moodboard #editorial #advertorial #design #photography #accessories #perfume #balenciaga #thierry mugler #gucci #off white #stylist #photographer #art #artist #advertisement #mood board

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milstrim · 4 years ago

Text

A Gripping Night

Day 22: Poison

"They're really staying with you?" Penny asked, and she could practically feel Mr. Stark's feigned annoyance from over the phone. She could hear him walking around in some kind of busy room filled with lots of people, and it surprised her even more that he'd called.

"Yeah, kid. That was kind of the whole point of going through these trials and being out of the country all the time."

It had been a year since Mr. Stark had whisked her away to Germany to fight the Captain America, who had been pardoned by the UN barely two days ago. Now being a lot closer to Mr. Stark since Homecoming--filled with lab days, training, small missions, and plenty of movies--she'd known that her mentor had been working on bringing the Rogue Avengers back to New York. Of course the whole world had known. The trial had been very public, but it was different watching it on TV to seeing her mentor after every trial.

He'd always been a special kind of stressed anytime she'd seen him once he'd been back from a trial or some kind of government argument that she didn't understand. He'd worked himself to the bone the last four months, so much so that he'd missed a lot of their lab days. But now the Avengers were back together, and she hoped that things would go back to normal.

But the chances were slim, since the Avengers would be his main priority now. A part of her felt protective--these people had hurt her mentor after all! They'd left him and refused to listen and had beaten the crap out of him. She'd seen what had happened in Siberia on a video that she 100% hadn't been supposed to see. And now these people were coming back like it was no big deal. And Mr. Stark was welcoming them like they hadn't hurt him!

Another part of her felt jealous, and a little worried. For herself, which in turn made her feel guilt for being selfish, but...what if Mr. Stark didn't want to talk to her anymore? He'd started paying attention to Spider-Woman because the Avengers were breaking up, he'd needed help, and then he'd only paid attention to her after Homecoming. What if he didn't need her anymore? What if he didn't want her around?

She'd be lying if she said she hadn't stayed up all night before worrying about it. Hence why she was especially tired now, and it took her a moment to realize Mr. Stark was still talking.

"--whadda ya say, kid?" he finished, and she blinked.

"Huh?"

He snorted, "How late are you staying up? You better not be patrolling past your curfew, young lady."

She scrunched up her nose at the playful 'young lady,' and she was sure he could see her face through the force of her sheer willpower, "I'm not! I go to bed at 1:30, Mr. Stark."

He clucked his tongue, "Well, you certainly haven't been sleeping enough to pay attention. Did you hear anything I said?"

"I stopped paying attention after...something about being out of the country."

"This is betrayal, Underoos. And I knew you had a thick skull, but this is low, even for you."

"Okay, well, I have homework, so is there a point to this conversation that I have one hundred percent been paying attention to?"

She could feel his eyes roll, "Uhuh. But as I was saying, you've been cordially invited to one bonified Stark Gala next Friday evening."

"A gala?"

"Ah, she can hear! Yes, a gala Spider-Kid. It's a little welcome back soiree for Cap and his gang of merry pals, 'figured it'd be better to meet on neutral ground with a few rich people as buffers. It's good to raise charities too. But also because everyone going is boring as hell, I thought you'd like to tag along so I'd have someone okay to talk to."

She hesitated, "Uh, I don't know, Mr. Stark. I mean, I have a project coming up, and I don't even having anything to wear and will they know that I'm Spider-Woman and--"

"I'll help you with your project, I'll give you a dress or a suit when you come to my apartment, and they don't know you're Spider-Woman. You can just be my intern."

"...Is the gala at your apartment?"

He snorted, "No, it's at an actual place where parties are held that I bought out for the night. It's very nice, even has an outdoor patio."

"And you're sure they won't know?" she asked, unable to stop the fear from bleeding into her voice, and Mr. Stark's own voice took on a heavier tone, matching hers.

"I can't assure you that, kid. They're idiots, but they know what they're doing, but I can tell you they wouldn't out you, and that even if they did, I'd take care of it. Okay?"

"Okay, Mr. Stark. I trust you."

He was silent for a fleeting moment, "Great. See you soon, kid."

---

Saturday came a little too quickly for Penny's liking, which was a weird sentence. She loved Saturdays! It was when she got to spend the entire day patrolling and swinging around town, and she did do that, though she had to stop around four and swing to Mr. Stark's Manhattan apartment instead of patrolling into the night. Spider-Woman got there quickly, a little nervous as she stuck to the side of the building, knocking gently on the window. From inside, Mr. Stark looked up at her knock, smiling when he caught sight of her, and she waved.

The window slid open for her, allowing for her to slip inside. She took off her mask once the window had closed behind her, and Mr. Stark immediately ran a hand through her sweaty hair. She'd tied it up for her suit, but the braids and knots had come loose, allowing for his hand to untangle the rest of her her hair and fall down into her short bob.

Mr. Stark scrunched up his nose, "You're sweaty."

"And you're annoying," she snarked back.

"Yeah, yeah. Go take a shower, Underoos. You can't show up to the gala smelling like the last dumpster you fell in."

She stuck a tongue out at him, but he just pointed her in the direction of the guest room she stayed in if she ever slept over. She took a quick shower, always glad to take in the smell of the soaps left in the bathroom for her (they smelled like vanilla and heaven). When she stepped out there were two outfits waiting for her. One was a bright red dress, slightly off the shoulder with a short slit down the side, falling down to her ankles. The other was a slightly darker red suit with thin black stripes and flare legs, a dark blue bowtie that was a little too obvious but still made her smile.

She chose the suit.

After she'd pulled it on, she treaded out of the room. And then she was herded into another by some makeup artist that had come by to do Ms. Potts' makeup earlier. Her hair too. Another what felt like two years passed before Mr. Stark said they were already to go. Fancy suits. Makeup. Hair. Jewelry. And then they were finally out. Mr. Stark was exhausting with his parties. Worse than a freshman going to Homecoming.

Finally they were in the car, Happy driving them to the building that Mr. Stark had bought out for the fancy party. When they arrived at the building, she was a bit nervous to see some gathering press, and she gave Mr. Stark an uneasy look.

"You can go around the back if you'd like, Pen. But you're in the system as my personal intern, and I mean, I know that kid at school's still giving you trouble," Mr. Stark explained.

"No one's bothering me, Mr. Stark," she argued.

"Sure," he placated, "You coming in here or do you want Happy to take you around?"

"I'll just, go with you."

"Alright, kiddo."

The cameras had been bright, but Mr. Stark had made sure she got inside relatively quickly. He stayed out for another ten minutes or so taking pictures and answering press questions. He'd showed her to the elevator, told her to get off at the top floor, and said he'd catch up in a few minutes. Her heart had clenched as he'd left.

Blinking off a headache from the crowd, Penny took in the room in front of her when the elevator opened. It was elegant, with golden curtains and soft yellow lights blinking overhead. There was a band playing soft jazz in the background, and there were only a couple of people milling around so far. Unsure of what to do, she headed to the bar and ordered a Shirley Temple, waiting for whenever Mr. Stark would join her.

While she waited, she people watched.

Penny didn't recognize any of the people chatting idly around the room, until her eyes landed on a tall man with dark blond hair and a groomed but messy looking beard. It took her a moment to place him, what with the beard and all, but when he turned and made eye contact with her, she recognized him. Captain America.

Immediately she looked away, sipping on her drink and ignoring the man who had beat her mentor senseless barely a year ago, who was now only thirty feet away from her like it was nothing. Penny was relieved when Mr. Stark appeared a few minutes later, approaching her where she was on her third Shirley Temple.

"How many of those have you had?" he asked when he saw her.

"Three," she responded cheekily, taking another sip through her straw. Mr. Stark shook his head.

"I'm pretty sure the responsible thing would be to tell you not to have anymore, but I don't know how else to get you through the night."

"Coffee?"

"That is the biggest no of all no's, kid. Not after last time."

"I only broke the arm of your suit."

"Uhuh," Mr. Stark tutted, but his face was playful, "Only have two mores of those."

"Rude," she muttered, taking another sip. Mr. Stark opened his mouth to say something else when another voice interrupted, strong yet soft.

"Hi, Tony."

Mr. Stark turned and she looked up to see Steve Rogers. The man's eyes flitted to her a little uncertainly, but he didn't look at her for very long, instead focusing on her mentor. The billionaire tensed, but nothing else portrayed his discomfort as he plastered on the same smile that she'd seen him flash to the press.

"Rogers. Glad you could make it to your own 'Welcome Back Party,' though I am sorry that I couldn't make it a red, white and blue theme. Pepper was insistent for the gold instead, and I can't deny I favor it."

Mr. Rogers smiled a little bit, "I think you should've stuck with Natasha's colors."

"Just black is a bit of a downer. Anyway," he gestured to her, "This is my intern, Penny Parker. Who has had way too much sugar in the three minutes I left her alone."

Penny waved timidly, "Um, nice to meet you, Mr. Rogers."

Mr. Rogers smiled, holding out a hand that she took, being careful to keep her grip gentle. She must have not been gentle enough, because his eyes narrowed, "Nice to meet you too. And you can call me Steve."

Mr. Stark scoffed, "Good luck. It's been a year and she still calls me Mr. Stark."

"That's your name, Mr. Stark," she chirped, and both Mr. Stark and Mr. Rogers laughed, and the night continued on.

Penny flip-flopped between following Mr. Stark around like a lost puppy and standing in the corner drinking something (sometimes a water, other times a sugary drink if she saw that Mr. Stark had gone to the bathroom). At the moment, she was following him around. She mostly stuck around when he wasn't talking to one of the Rogues, and he'd been talking to a scientist that was doing some revolutionary stuff with chemical growth out in California when Mr. Rogers and Mr. Wilson had decided to join them. Hurray.

Cue some awkward conversation and Penny wishing she could leave, but she could tell there was a panic looked about him, so she forced herself to stay around. She wasn't going to abandon her mentor. And maybe she'd get some more sugar if she was nice.

About forever into the conversation, a waiter passed by with a plate of red rimmed drinks. She raised her eyebrows at Mr. Stark, and with a roll of his eyes, he gestured for her to grab a drink while she grabbed her own. Red rimmed drinks were non-alcoholic, basically just sugar and soda (which was also just sugar), so she began chugging down her cup instantly.

The back of her neck prickled and she put the now almost empty glass down, lipping her lips at the strangely sweet taste. Which, it was supposed to be sweet, but it was different. Maybe she was just tired, she did feel woozy all of the sudden. And as though summoned by the thought, her vision began to swim, barely able to make out the faces of Mr. Rogers and Mr. Wilson looking at her in concern, their full drinks still in their hands.

"Kid?" Mr. Rogers asked.

Her throat dry and her head spinning, Penny grabbed onto Mr. Stark's hand, tugging gently. Her mentor turned to look at her, his eyes widening as he looked at her.

"Mr. Stark," she mumbled, her legs beginning to shake, "I don't--I don't feel so good."

That was the last thing she said before she tumbled to the ground. Mr. Stark caught her at the last second, mumbling out words that she struggled to understand. His mouth was moving too fast to even try to read his lips, and all she could her around her were panicked yells and someone screaming at the sight of her now completely limp, half on the ground, half in Mr. Stark's arms.

"--kay, honey. It's gonna be okay," she finally managed to make out, the sound all drumming back instantly like in those movies that was going through the sound inside a deaf person's head and then switching back to sound. Mr. Stark's voice was soothing, a hand carding through her hair as Mr. Wilson kneeled in front of her.

"It looks like she's been poisoned," Mr. Wilson concluded, "We need to take her to the hospital, really quickly. Whatever this is, it's fast."

"Got it," Mr. Stark confirmed, his voice wispy, "That waiter--"

"I've got them!" Ms. Romanoff called, and Penny assumed the woman had dashed away, though she couldn't tell for sure. Everything was so fuzzy, and darkness was clouding her vision. She was sure that that was a bad thing, but falling asleep didn't sound so bad.

Her eyes were slipping closed as she was scooped up off the ground, her head lolling before it was pushed back in place against Mr. Stark's chest. No. Not Mr. Stark. She blinked her hazy eyes open to look up and find Captain America. Where was Mr. Stark?

"I'm right here, kid. Right here," she heard Mr. Stark say, as though she'd summoned him. She tilted to her left to see the man rushing to keep up with her and Mr. Rogers. He smiled at her encouragingly, "Yeah. I know. We're getting you help. The suit's on the way. just stay with me, honey. Please."

And then the world faded away.

---

The world blinked awake.

It was bright. Well, not really. There were lights in the room that made her flinch with her sensitive eyes, but after she adjusted, she realized that the room was actually dim. It must still be pretty late.

Speaking of the room, it was the Medbay in the compound. She'd been here often enough to recognize it. At this point the covers on the bed she was in were Spider-Woman themed (somehow), and there was lots of equipment specially made for her. As well as very comfy chairs for Mr. Stark and May to sit in, both of who were seated there right now.

May was asleep, her glasses skewed and her hair frizzy, but Mr. Stark was awake, watching her intently as she sat up. He deflated as she did, a sigh escaping his lips before he leaned over, wrapping her in a hug.

"Hi, Mr. Stark," she mumbled into his shirt, "What happened."

"What do you remember?" he asked softly.

"Um, we were at the gala...? And I drank something that tasted funny, and--that's it."

"Well, that's about as long as you stayed awake for. What you missed was me flying you to compound so you could have emergency care by my team of doctors. Side affect; I think the others know by now that you were the coolest kid in Germany."

Her face fell, "Oh."

"It's alright, kid. I'm sorry this went so poorly," Mr. Stark apologized.

"It's okay. I trust you."

And she really did.

#Iron Man #spiderman #female peter parker #irondad #irondad fanfiction #whumptober2020 #avengers fanfiction

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kemetic-dreams · 6 years ago

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African not Black

Blackness Started in Slavery

We have to start this discussion in its most basic terms. Where do Black people originate from? Then if the answer is Africa, then what is the purpose of identifying with a color over our beautiful Motherland? We could end all discussions with just that simple sentence.

Black is a construction, which articulates a recent social-political reality of people of color (pigmented people). Black is not a racial family, an ethnic group or a super-ethnic group. Political blackness is thus not an identity but moreover a social-political consequence of a world which after colonialism and slavery existed in those color terms.

“white�� depends for its stability on its negation, “black.” Neither exists without the other, and both come into being at the moment of imperial conquest– Fanon

The Invention of the White Race is a groundbreaking analysis of the birth of racism in America. When the first Africans arrived in Virginia in 1619, there were no “white” people, nor, according to colonial records, would there be for another sixty years. In his seminal two-volume work, Theodore W. Allen details the creation of the “white race” by the ruling class as a method of social control in response to labor unrest precipitated by Bacon’s Rebellion. By distinguishing European Americans from African Americans within the laboring class, white privileges enforced the myth of the white race through the years and has been central to maintaining ruling-class domination over the entire working class.

In our modern era old identities split apart and reform along more self-determined line to recover what was lost after the impact of conquest and domination. We see The Gypsies are now to be called “Roma,” and the reindeer-herding Lapps of Northern Scandinavia are the “Saami.” Similarly, some now claim the Iroquois Indians should be called the “Haudenosaunee” and the Cherokee the “Tsalagi”

Africans have gone from Negro (Spanish for Black) to Black (English for Negro) what has changed? Only the language. An identity is generally geographical and ties the people to their native environment or their core doctrine (Jews of Judaism, Muslims of Islam, Chinese of China).

Very few Africans are actually Black in color, so where is the foundation of a Black people or black people coming from? It is how Africans were seen relative to the European people. So relative to the pales skin of Europeans and White Arabs the most dominant thing about African was relative skin color. Hence the exonym Black in the eyes of the “other.” It was not the land, not the African hair, but the relative color of a diverse skin pigment – that is rarely black in color. For Indians it is their land, for Chinese it is their land, for Jews it is their faith and a notion of Israel. Yet Condolezza Rice feels the best thing that describes her in American is blackness. And to some extent she is right, because there is nothing in her cultural, ethical, aesthetic, outlook that resembles the continent her ancestors came from. She has replaced Africa with America, and finally Africaness with dreams of the White ideal.

African and black are not interchangeable just as Dark continent and Africa are not. Self-determination allows a people to re-examine definitions and sculpt them to their reality. Black, like Negro is facing linguistic extinction, especially in academic circles, due to its poor foundation in speaking about the oldest and most diverse people on the planet. Notice today only two races go by color labels; The race with the most oppression and the ones inflicting that oppression. “I am black and proud” is a song, nothing else. It is the rhetoric necessary at the time to lift an oppressed people who only knew of themselves through the eyes of their oppressor. It has run its course and has expired.

Some have argued that African people chose “black” as an acceptable identity. The evidence is in all the books African-Americans write where the word “black” (lowercase) is used without care. But self-determination has a condition – full knowledge of self. And this is why we see the new Nig*er identity which by the same mass consensus process seems to be a valid new identity. And just like “black” it is again almost exclusively the world view of a minority African population living in America.

In Mauritania, the Haratin account for as much as 40% of the Mauritanian population. They are sometimes referred to as “Black Moors“, in contrast to Beidane. The Haratin are Arabic-speakers, and generally claim a Berber or Arab origin, which is contrasted against other African peoples in southern Mauritania (such as the Wolof and Fula people who have populations in Mauritania). The Haratine, consider themselves part of the Moorish community. But where it becomes problematic is because they are “darker” in color, they are assumed to be slaves brought from “black Africa.” So powerful is the theory of “two” Africa’s that reality is twisted to accommodate its validity. Every study is looking at Africa through the lens of “Black and White”, “slave and master.” It is therefore never considered that these “black” populations, like the Kanuri, who migrated South from North Africa, are native to the region. In a struggle to sustain colonial linguistics all forms of pseudo -anthropology is imposed on the African reality posing itself as mainstream studies.

Ethiopia never had a history of “Black” identity

Brief History : During the displacement of the African Holocaust people were disconnected from culture, language and identity, they went from Fulani, Hausa, Igbo to a relative color, aptly describing their status in European society– Black. Now stuck with this name, and with no agency, no conscious of self outside of the chains of the Holocaust, being black became a source of reactionary pride. (especially in the 60’s). This happened also because the involuntary Diaspora had a deep self-hatred for their African connection, and would prefer to be a empty color than connected to their Motherland–that was the dept of the self hatred. And this produced reactionary love because they had to be something, and they could not be European, so in the psyche reaffirming a negative name was in some sense a statement of ownership–a statement of being. In reality it was a statement of displacement and self-hatred.

The word “Black” has no historical or cultural association, it was a name born when Africans were broken down in to transferable labor units and transported as chattel to the Americas. The re-labeling of the Mandika, Fulani, Igbo, Asante, into one bland color label- black, was part of the greater process of absolute removal of African identity; a color epithet that Europe believed to be the lowest color on Earth, thus reflecting the social designation of African people in European psyche. When Africans, out of their own agency refer to themselves they do so with internal paradigms and self-affirmation. No where in Africa did Africans see the obvious, the natural skin color they had, as the most distinctive characteristic in defining them:

Zulu – People of the sky Khoi Khoi – King of men Numunuu (Native Americans) – The people Mediterranean — ” Our Sea” Senegal – “Our land” Navajo -“Diné” meaning “The People” Han-in (Korean: 한인; Hanja: 韓人; literally “great people”) Bantu – “human” {note}

In this history of Swahili the people called themselves “people” no color attached. Attaching color is only done to refer to “the other.” In Zulu Kingdom again we see no record of a self-reference to a “Black people” they called themselves “People of the Sky” until White people showed up and called them blacks. It is true the term Ethiopia in ancient times meant “burnt face” but the modern name Ethiopia is a name not a Greek word. And the critical thing is name verses descriptive terms. The same is true for Sudan.

ODD ETHNIC GROUP Sesame Street use to play a game called Which one is the odd one out. Can you spot which of all of these so-called Ethnic names is the odd one out:

East Asian (a place) Southeast Asian (a place) South Asian (a place) Black (a color) Hispanic/Latino (a language group tied to a place) Caucasian (a place) Middle Eastern (a place) Native American/First Nations (a place) Pacific Islander (a place) Arab (a place)

Linguistic evolution? COLORED – NEGRO – BLACK – AFRICAN-AMERICAN – NIG*ER

BLACK HISTORY

Black history is the history of enslavement; African history is the history of humanity. If there are no White people, could there be Black people? For over 100,000 years there were only native people of Africa on the planet, and since there were no “White” people there could not have been Black people, since everyone would have been “Black.” This is even more profound when you realize African people are the only truly native people of the place they inhabit—everyone else is at some point a settler.

Every ethnic group in this country has a reference to some land base, some historical cultural base. African-Americans have hit that level of cultural maturity… To be called African-American has cultural integrity– Jesse Jackson

And if all the “White people” vanished from the Earth, would the remaining “Black” people still be Black? So the older group must define itself relative to the European newcomers? Would it not make far more logical, historically, linguistically, and social to describe people by their land of origin. Negro = Negroid = Colored = Nigger = Black (all associated with color none are connected to a continent). Now compare this to Asiatic, Caucasoid, and Mongoloid (all are tied to land, all can be located on a map— but not so Negroid/Black). Black and White are therefore debunked as regressive incomplete terms for describing people.

For all of recorded history we see in every conflict a central theme — that of “land.” So critical as humans need land to grow crops on, to source water from (see Golan Heights), they need a place to build cities and a place to harvest mineral wealth from. So attaching your identity to land makes sense: Attaching your identity to an abstract color, does not. Black and African are not interchangeable in any logical sense. African people claim an African origin and Africa as their Motherland. There is nothing in “blackness” that logically implies any claim to anything of value, except into bondage. All it tells the world is relative to the dominant race class these group of people are “black.” And in Africa it is even worse, because language wise no majority defines themselves against a minority. i.e. Sudan (Northern Sudan) is still Sudan, but Southern Sudan has to insert “South” for clarity. Holocaust, on its own, is assigned to the Jews, who do not insert “Jews” before Holocaust, since they are the first to use the term in its modern context. How can the majority in South Africa need to identify themselves as “black” relative to a “white” when they are a overwhelming majority and hence “the norm”?

And what is even more revealing is that Dutch settlers in South Africa branded themselves as Afrikaners laying claim to the land they conquered. Signifying in that naming process they were the native European tribe of of Africa (per Zuma). And yet Natives in South Africa still refer to themselves, with glee, as blacks.

It is amazing in our modern era that an entire nation of people, who are free to think and free to reflect– the oldest nation on the planet, the parents to every other people are confined by a name that reflects only their supposed skin color — and nothing else. Being “black people” is still today indelible fixed in Western lexicon (both African American and White), despite all the evidence contradictory such color-based terminologies and the profound work of Malcolm X and especially Richard B. Moore to favor African over Black, which would give a humanist representation of marginalized people. And the perplexing thing is general contentment and seeming inability to see the obvious menace in the term. Only two groups remain on Earth adhering to color labels; the most exploited people in the history of humanity (Black people), and their apex oppressors (White people).

True freedom is not only the right to vote, but the right to self-define and the right to interrogate definitions imposed and formulate new ones, which favor the African in any given political climate

If linguistically we reject the term.Sub-Saharan Africa then therefore there is no Sub-Saharan history or people; as distinct from North Africa. We then only have Africanpeople and a history of Africa

We must realize these are still colonial classifications like Middle East which have nothing to do with historical Africa. We cannot discuss a history of Africa in these colonial boxes which only served to humiliate and take away from the continent. The terms create paradigms which limit, rather than expand, reality. If there are a black or Black people then where do “black” people come form? Since Asians come from Asia, Indians from India (all makes perfect logically sense).

So where do Black people come from? Blackia, Negroland or Blackistan, following the obvious naming convention. What is the capital city of the Black home world? Black City or Blackatropolis? So if Africans do not come from these fictitious places and we find that so-called Black people come from Africa (at some time in our recent history) then why not just call them Africans? At best the term is redundant. So what is the purpose of Blackness? Especially in a world where identity and land are exclusively interlinked for every other people: Jews of Israeli, Palestinians of Palestine, Indians of India, Zulu of Zululand, Masai of the Masai Mara

Twenty-two million African-Americans – that’s what we are – Africans who are in America– Malcolm X

Blackness, is largely a Western or American exonym, in which all so-called Black cultures around the world are forced to fit into. As Americanism expanded so to did this notion of blackness, which is attached to the civil rights struggle and today to the urban cultures of the inner cities. However, It cannot be transplanted into ancient history to describe a people such as Ancient Ethiopia who had no cultural similarities to the modern African-Americans communities. Neither can “Blackness” be put in history to say the Ancient Egyptians were not Black because they did not share characteristics with a group of Africans Europeans chose to label as the archetypal Black population (black skin, thick lips and kinky hair). To do so creates connections and disconnections where there are none. So “Black culture” or “Blackness” cannot be imposed anywhere beyond the modern era. But we can say Cultures of Africa, in which Egypt and Ethiopia were part of that African world. Being African doesn’t mean we all dance to the same music and worship the same tree. So outside of the suggestiveness of “black” and “negro” words are necessary in creating new paradigms or we will always get stuck hearing “Well the Egyptians were not Black” because of a language issue or some other technicality. Far less objections could be raised if we just stuck to “The Egyptians were Africans“. Especially if we claim African as oppose to let it float.

The political question of contributions of modern day African people must be addressed and in this respect Ancient Egypt, Ancient Ethiopia were African civilizations, the same way Greece was an Ancient European civilization (it was located in modern Europe). But this argument is a political because we live in a racialized world which discredits a people’s worth by notions of racial origin and assumes black skin is too inferior to construct civilization.

There is an academic debate that the Ancient Egyptians called themselves Black based upon KMT (Kemet) which in some circles is translated as “Black people.” Now at the end of the word KMT is an ideogram which can only mean physical place

The ideogram indicates the context in which the word applies. An ideogram for humans would always be used to represent a word that applied to people. However Kemet can only mean Black Land since the ideogram indicates it is describing a built or non-human environment. They called themselves “remetch en Kemet”, which means the “People of the Black Land.” Where rmt means simple without any adjectives “the people,” the same way the Numunuu means “the people.”(the authentic people) And likewise Zulu means people of heaven.

Ancient Egypt is commonly referred to as ‘km.t’ , with the theorized reference to the black Nile Delta earth. The determinative O49 is used to designate the term for ‘country, inhabited/cultivated land’, called the niw.t (a political designate). It is a circle with a cross which represents a street, ‘town intersection”(Gardiner 2005 (1957): 498)

But none of this discredits the founders of Kemet as being African people, just like the Fulani or the Amhara. “Black” in the North American context. The “social “construction of race in America does not rely on skin color. “African Americans,” as even Asante notes, ” constitute the most heterogeneous group in the United States biologically, but perhaps one of the most homogeneous socially.”

BLACK AND THE 60’s

Indians are from India , Chinese from China . There is no country called Blackia or Blackistan and a people must respectful be tied to geography as skin color is not the primary definitive identifier.. Hence, the ancestry-nationality model is more respectful and accurate: African-American, African-British, African-Arabian, African-Brazilian, and African-Caribbean. And if Black people has some validity as a political term it can not be limited in its application to people of African decent. Nostalgia is not an accurate place for African linguistic self-determination, and blackness is blatantly a cultural inheritance of oppressed people. The pattern of acceptance of a black identity globally walks hand in hand with European cultural oppression.

Black pride is reactionary pride, necessary then, Irrelevant now. As we blossom into a greater historical and cultural awareness of a Motherland a detachment with fictional attachments to slave names must be challenged, and we must end the romance with things that are a disservice to our identity today.

It is worth noting parts of African that are culturally intact such as in Ethiopia, Mali, Somalia, Nigeria and Niger have absolutely no fondness or linguistic presence of a “black identity.”

New York Times | The term African-American has crept steadily into the nation’s vocabulary since 1988, when the Rev. Jesse Jackson held a news conference to urge Americans to use it to refer to blacks. ”It puts us in our proper historical context,” Mr. Jackson said then, adding in a recent interview that he still favored the term. ”Every ethnic group in this country has a reference to some land base, some historical cultural base. African-Americans have hit that level of cultural maturity.” Since 1989, the number of blacks using the term has steadily increased, polls show. In a survey that year conducted by ABC and The Washington Post, 66 percent said they preferred the term black, 22 preferred African-American, 10 percent liked both terms and 2 percent had no opinion. In 2000, the Census Bureau for the first time allowed respondents to check a box that carried the heading African-American next to the term black. In 2003, a poll by the same news organizations found that 48 percent of blacks preferred the term African-American, 35 percent favored black and 17 percent liked both terms.

BLACK-AFRICA IS A RACIST TERM

Nobody on this planet puts a adjective on their identity, especially when they are a majority, except African people. Black Africa, Dark Continent, Heart of Darkness all articulate the colonial contempt for a continent and its people. But how does one arrive at the term “black Africans,” are there green Africans? Would you speak of “yellow Chinese,” or “brown Indians”? Even terms like “White Russian” are unused, despite Russia being a multi-ethnic nation. Because 80% white means the majority have no need for adding White to their Russian to qualify against a minority of “other” Russians. [3] Globally the term ” Red Indian” is rejected as deeply pejorative yet “black African” is still used even in South Africa which is used to define the majority of the population against the minority so-called white-Africans. Black African is as ridiculous as “rock stone”, rocks are stones so why double up two realities which are often the same?

There is an infinite an inexhaustible list of examples which show that no one with power wears and adjective on their identity, especially when equal or a majority. The peninsula of Korea is called Chosŏn Pando (조선반도; 朝鮮半島) in North Korea and Han Bando (한반도; 韓半島) in South Korea based on the respective names of the two countries. (wikipedia)They both use “Korea” as part of their official English names. In other words North Korea does not say they are North Korean, as far as they are concerned they are the KOREA. The South does not waste time defining itself as South Korea, again, as far as their national pride is concerned they are just Korea. Both countries have equal political and cultural agency. So how is it possible for a continent whose overwhelming demographic, political, cultural majority is African, need to refer to themselves as black + African? And with the split of N. Sudan and S. Sudan it would be shocking to see if N. Sudan adds the term “North” to its national rhetoric, to clarify itself from its new southern neighbor.

There is only one reason the term Black African exists and that is to deny nobility from African people. To explain away how Egypt could be nested in Africa but at the same time divorced from the majority of the African people. Therefore the argument “yes it is in Africa, but it is not Black African.” It is almost like saying Greece was a European civilization, but not a White European civilization.

If 95% of Africans are “Black” (capital B, if it must be used) then the minority should bear the adjective–not the majority. It is disrespectful to describe Africans with a label based solely on a color, especially when it does not accurately reflect the physical appearance of most Africans. This is made even more offensive when the etymological root of that label (black) is derived from the word Negro, and is used in place of the word African as a racial or cultural identity. In reality we must ask ourselves what is the difference between “Negro” and “Black” save historical association, the words mean the same thing, so we have moved from being Black in Spanish (negro) to Black in English (black). It is strange that despite all the genetic research and advance human anthropology we are still clinging to primitive 18th century post-Darwin model of race, which sole aim was/is to segregate and de-culturalize and enslave.

The concept of a “black Africa ” is a Eurocentric term based upon their ignorant primitive regressive deductions. It is true Arabs and Greeks referred to Africans as “black” but this was not a racial label, and moreover Africans themselves did not self-apply these external labels. Like the Phoenician who were called the “red people,” but no Phoenician would have referred to themselves in this way.

CHILDREN DIS-IDENTIFY WITH BLACK

In a recent survey conducted by the African Holocaust society it was noted that young African children (approx 4-5 years old, the age of race consciousness) when told they were members of the “black race” reacted with great confusion because they were also being taught the names of colors. Most of them objected to being called black and said they were not black but rather brown. A repeated survey found that when they were told they were African they did not object to the logic (they were African because their ancestors were from the continent called Africa). Blackness is illogical and only exist by force conditioning of children. This case study is profound because it shows how logic and identify form before social concepts are enforced.

WHITE AFRICANS

It would be very strange if a European, after 200 years in China or India, could be so powerful to alter the definition of Chinese just to be accommodated. Linguistic accommodation is only possible in Africa because of the prevailing injustice of a post-colonial dominance of European settlers. It is clear some European funded African politicians backed it, but where did it originate from? It is interesting to note Europeans (including white Arabs) constitute around 10 million people verses the 800 million plus Africans. Now this negligible minority by way of social influence has caused the majority to need to refer to themselves with the adjective of “black” to separate themselves from a serious minority group who want to be “white Africans.”Minorities of Europeans live in China, in India and in Arabia yet only in Africa has linguistic accommodation been given. Africans now must make room for those settlers who want to identify with the continent for capitalist reasons. Because once you identify with a continent then you have a legitimate claim to its resources. Thus the saying and the philosophy of Garvey “Africa for the Africans” becomes usurped. In South Africa the new trend of “Black Economic Empowerment” has seen the broadening, opening up of the borders of blackness so to speak. Indians are economically classified as ‘black’, and recently Chinese have been included in this definition. So again we see the relationship between linguistics and economic profit.In the scramble for linguistic real estate, why would these descendants of European colonialist who devastated and exploited the continent want to be called African? And in terms of self-determination who introduced these concepts?Despite claiming “African” in name they are very conscious of Whiteness when propagating the White dominant image on the broadcast mediums they control. Being White is clearly obvious when it comes to the dilemma of ownership which is still tipped in their favor. When all of these White South Africans rush home to Europe (when Africa gets a little sticky) do they encounter job discrimination experienced by fellow African South Africans or even 3rd and 4th generation African-British? They integrate seamlessly into the social environment created by White privilege. Seems like with the Indian “Africans”, African is a jacket worn to suit an economic or political opportunity.Race was not only defined in the 18th century, in Aksum and Kemet African peoples have always identified with degrees of racial inclusion and exclusion. The arrogance of Whiteness is to assume they are responsible for every single point of view that has ever existed on this planet. All the while South Africa remains White dominant and unchallenged by people who are the most vocal White Africans. Interestingly if you examine their lifestyle, you will find them to be the most racial conservative personalities. They date and marry women of their specific race, they socialize in White circles, they engage a distinctive non-African culture. And if they do have a few token “Black” friends they are often culturally compromised aberrations the continent can produce. The injustices of White dominance and the legacy of that dominance are smooth over by fictional fantasies of non-returning colonial tourist who still impose their reality as the norm for everyone else. Moreover, in dealing with these issues they always select broad base arguments and never deal with the core issue of African self-determination and agency.

Africa, unlike “black,” is a name, not a adjective. You can get on a plane and visit it, you can find it on a Sat Nav, it has boundaries, governments, you can grow crops on it, and build a house on it. But some say, Africa was a foreign name given to us, if this is true, it was given to us by our contemporaries not our conquerors. However, the word has Berber Tunisian origins meaning ” A sunny place” – Ifriqiya .Romans appropriated this word from which it is believed the modern word Africa came about the describe the entire continent. In addition, Africa is a unique name of a place and Africans are simply people who are native to that place. And over the course of history different names such as Habesha and Takruri were used to refer to African people of various regions, Ethiopia and West Africa respectively. Also the word Moor has been used across the centuries but as critics have established, the term “Moor” was used interchangeably with such other ambiguous terms such as “Ethiopian,” “Negro,” and even “Indian” to designate a figure from different parts or the whole of Africa (or beyond) who was either black or Muslim, neither, or both.

Massey, in 1881, stated that Africa is derived from the Egyptian af-rui-ka, meaning "to turn toward the opening of the Ka." The Ka is the energetic double of every person and the "opening of the Ka" refers to a womb or birthplace. Africa would be, for the Egyptians, "the birthplace.

Human skin color ranges in variety from the darkest brown to the lightest hues. An individual's skin pigmentation is the result of genetics, being the product of both of the individual's biological parents' genetic makeup, and exposure to sun. In evolution, skin pigmentation in human beings evolved by a process of natural selection primarily to regulate the amount of ultraviolet radiation penetrating the skin, controlling its biochemical effects https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Human_skin_color

“You can’t hate the roots of the tree without ending up hating the tree. You can’t hate your origin without ending up hating yourself. You can’t hate the land, your motherland, the place that you come from, and we can’t hate Africa without ending up hating ourselves - Malcolm X

While in Ghana, Dr. King Jr. told then U.S. Vice President, Richard Nixon, who was also in attendance at the event’s festivities: “I want you to come visit us down in Alabama where we are seeking the same kind of freedom the Gold Coast is celebrating”.Dr. King Jr. also returned from his trip deeply inspired about the Pan-African movement and penned a sermon called “Birth of a New Nation”. In it, he educated others, especially African Americans in the Civil Rights Movement, about Africa, then largely known as the “Dark Continent”. He highlighted various countries across the continent, including Egypt, Ethiopia, South Africa, Uganda, Nigeria, Liberia, Kenya, and Ghana and their plight. He used Ghana’s story to remind his brethren of the cost of freedom:“Ghana reminds us that freedom never comes on a silver platter. It’s never easy…Ghana reminds us of that. You better get ready to go to prison. When I looked out and saw the prime minister there with his prison cap on that night, that reminded me of that fact, that freedom never comes easy. It comes through hard labor and it comes through toil. It comes through hours of despair and disappointment.”2. In previously unreleased documents, it was discovered that Dr. King Jr. traveled to West Africa in 1960, this time, to attend the Inauguration of Nigeria’s Nnamdi Azikiwe in Lagos. He said the following about his trip to Nigeria:“I just returned from Africa a little more than a month ago and I had the opportunity to talk to most of the major leaders of the new independent countries of Africa and also leaders of countries that are moving toward independence. They are familiar with it and they are saying in no uncertain terms that racism and colonialism must go for they see the two are as based on the same principle, a sort of contempt for life, and a contempt for human personality.”

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bandsanitizer · 4 years ago

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How did you make your edits for the Austin Moon stuff?

hello bobby lol thank you for the ask!!! um my explaination is going to lack technical terms because i kind of just go with whatever looks right as i edit (hence some inconsistencies) but hopefully this makes sense.

to start: i do all the editing on my phone with the apps pixlr and proknockout. both are free, though they have a quite a bit of ads—they get the job done. additionally, all the original photos either came from ross lynch’s or laura marano’s instagram or a lot of google searching for the perfect picture

now the concepts for the playlists as fake albums came from me rewatching austin & ally this year and being like “wHAT HAPPENED IN THE TIME SKIP???” yknow those years between ally giving austin her book and them being on the helen show? yeah. i was like “what happened?!? i need to know” and originally i was thinking of a fic but i started also getting into the driver era and thus i thought up “what if like... austin moon had other albums?!” cos we kind of just know of his first album in canon. and then it extended to “hOLY MOLY WHAT ABOUT THEIR DUO ALBUM?!?” anyways that’s way more backstory so onto the edits

WiLdHeArT

okay so this was the simplest of the edits. basically i took this photo:

cropped it into a square, played around with some of the exposure and such to make ross look less washed out, and then rotated the image and put some text over it. the font is provided with pixlr and i chose it because it conveys how i’d kind of imagine austin moon’s handwriting. the “album” itself was meant to have a very personal/authentic aspect so i thought it fit.

for the back cover/track listing, i took this photo:

and used proknockout to crop out ross. then in pixlr, i layered it over a solid background, with some rotation. add some filters, played with lighting, then blurred the whole image before adding the text on top. definitely one of the more rushed back cover edits.

ECLIPSE

okay so i had fun with this! the front cover comes from this original photo from some magazine shoot the driver era did (i think it was MOOD but i can’t remember)

this “album” was intended to capture a darker side to austin moon’s music and i really love ross’ harley hair so i had to go with brunet ross lynch. in pixlr i cropped to a square, did a lot of filtering to have cooler tones (matching the darker feel of the playlist) and then played with a filter that adjusts texture. after that, i layered the image over itself with adjustments to size and position to get that distorted effect. then i added the font and such lol

for the back cover the original came from pexels which is a royalty/copyright free image site

basically to match the title i wanted to utilize an eclipse image. i played around a lot with how i wanted the track listing to be. eventually i figured it out, put the text down with pixlr, and then played with filter and exposure and such to get the bluish glow that matches the front cover edit along with a warmer tone for the background. then i used a filter that inverted the colors to get the contrasting blue-black side. then i used proknockout’s collage option to put the two together—kind of to convey the crossing-paths aspect of an eclipse.

last step was going back into pixlr and if you look closely, it’s not just a solid background. it actually has several lines of the text “there’s no way i could make it without you do it without you be here without you” which is an oblivious reference to the austin & ally theme song. it’s meant (in this au of sorts) to be austin giving recognition to ally’s impact in his life and career on an album that marks a step away from his past. ANYWAYS! the text just has very very low opacity to make it blend better.

where you are

this one i think i had the most fun and the most trouble with because i could NOT find a nice image of both ross and laura. thus i had to search to find the right images. bc tumblr is limiting me to 10 images total on this, i’m only including one of the two images of laura i used. they’re both from the same photo shoot and screenshots from one of her recent instagram posts. the images of ross/base photos for the edits came from the driver era instagram.

okay so front cover edit took this phot of laura:

and used proknockout to crop her out of the background. then i used pixlr to layer it into this image of ross to kind of make it appear as if she’s standing behind the piano:

which you can see in the final edit! then i layered black squares, erasing majority of their inside, to get those black frames throughout the edit. finally i added text. originally I had a logo concept for austin & ally but then thought the simple font looked much better for the concept of the album—which was meant to convey their maturity as artists. also played around with the coloring and shadows and exposure.

finally for the back cover, i cropped this image (sorry rocky):

and used proknockout to take an image of laura sitting and layer it onto the driver era image. then i played with some exposure and filters to get laura’s lighting to match that of the original image. after realising the pic of laura was way higher in quality than ^this, i blurred it A LOT. then i used the same technique with the black squares, only this time lowering the opacity a bit. then i went with a font that was a bit more playful to set up the track listing. “two in a million” was left as a bonus track since it’s not on the playlist because it’s not on spotify.

and yeah! that’s how the edits were done! they were honestly a lot of fun and sparked by the playlists i made towards the beginning of this year. they all had a few different versions LOL but anyways, thank you for asking! i had fun sharing and i hope you enjoyed the playlists, the edits, and/or this explaination! sorry it’s not too technical!

#askbobby-t-wilson #mutuals #i dont have a tag for asks so i guess i’ll make it this #my writing #using the tiny font to save space on the internet lol #long post

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minteagalaxea · 5 years ago

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Okay bruh I love all the colours and choices for the power rangers post and it makes me think of like, if they did it as a more mature reboot with darker themes. I wanna ask how they all came together if you have an explanation for that and how you decided on the animals for the zords

hold onto your seatbelts, because we’re in for a long ride.

seungcheol: i kind of knew from the beginning that he was going to be the red ranger just out of leadership and continuity. i definitely was inspired by the samurai rangers when i wanted to give him the lion, but i ultimately changed it to phonenix because i felt like it was a better representation of fire and how he experienced this rebirth after losing his family.

jeonghan: i picked the beetle for jeonghan because of honestly, the mummy. i thought about the scarab beetles and how they can be vicious despite how unassuming they are, and they do live in the desert. jeonghan kind of shows that, in the way that upon first glance, you wouldn’t think that he would cheat at games and the like. he joined towards the end, mostly due to location, but he met joshua, and their zords became friends.

jisoo: flowers are kind of a weird power, but much like the way i decided it for jeonghan, jisoo’s came out this idea that he’s more deadly than he lets on (and also because you once told me that you don’t trust him as far as you can throw him), and he’s ultimately a very gentle person. i picked the turtle because of the samurai rangers, but also because he reminds me of my older sister, who loves turtles and plays guitar. he joined because his parents still were close to seungcheol’s mentor, and they knew.

junhui: “my i”. that’s it. just kidding. i picked black because of “my i”, but his bat zord came from the fact that it’s a nocturnal creature, and junhui is a bit of an introvert. junhui joined when seungcheol’s mentor recruited him after seeing how much power he was capable of having, and encouraged him to try and use his powers for the better.

soonyoung: metal made sense for bronze, because soonyoung makes choreography, which is integral to the team like weapons are. soonyoung was one of the first people that joined the team, because he and seungcheol trained together. honestly, i gave him the tiger zord just because he keeps promoting his tiger agenda, and tigers be fierce like him on stage.

wonwoo: wonwoo has a purple microphone, and i chose the dragon for him because of the fact that his power is based off stars, and draco is a dragon constellation. honestly, wonwoo was the loner of the group, because that’s how life always was for him, but soonyoung and mingyu got him to become a member after they encouraged him that his abilities are not useless (and because they think his is pretty, but you don’t need to tell him that).

jihoon: jihoon’s prickly, and electricity crackles. magenta was a weird color, but i kind of decided that it was going to work purely based off the picture i was using. he and soonyoung were buddies, and soonyoung wasn’t very good with engineering zord configurations, hence why he got jihoon in, and it resembled jihoon’s engineering of svt’s songs. scorpions tend to be synonymous with electricity, so there’s that.

seokmin: so, i was going to go with yellow, but that didn’t happen because i couldn’t find a picture, so i decided to use orange. i got the dragonfly because you and i got to talk about it, and it was a good, cheery creature. jihoon roped him in because when he was working on a zord configuration, he was missing a zord, and he just so happened to catch seokmin playing with his dragonfly.

mingyu: gold from his microphone, and i wanted earth for him because he has a lot of strength. i kind of gave him the wolf since he does have the canines, and i thought it would be fun to have that as an inside joke. seungcheol’s family and his are close, hence why he joined from the beginning, but he had more unorthodox training compared to the original rangers.

minghao: minghao’s was probably the first i knew from the beginning: white for “my i”, and the serpent because it’s a very chic, yet misunderstood animal (a bit like him). he was the last ranger, and honestly had wonwoo and junhui not convinced him, he might have just resorted to being a vigilante.

seungkwan: he’s such a sunshine, and i could find the picture i wanted. he got the hawk zord because that boy got some power in his vocals. jun got him to join by using his personal experience to empathize with seungkwan, who couldn’t manage his power consistently.

hansol: hansol gets green because of his microphone. the bear zord came from the samurai ranger, but i thought that hansol does have a very kindhearted, warm nature to those he cares about, and bears do, too. he joins immediately after the original rangers are formed through mingyu, after all the other rangers were incapacitated from a monster, and mingyu needed his power to defeat him.

chan: he would also be a part of the original team, and i decided on blue because he has a lot of power and experience already in dance, and blue rangers are often on par with red rangers. sharks are predators, and chan is no exception when he dances. his dad got the distress call from seungcheol’s mentor, and so chan was set to leave.

tl;dr of joining order: original squad (seungcheol, jihoon, mingyu, jisoo, soonyoung, chan), hansol, jeonghan and jun, seungkwan, wonwoo, minghao.

#minnie speaks #sadienita #people i love #asks #p: svtprs #g: svt

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miccostmagta1976-blog · 6 years ago

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When I was 18, I stole some things. I was in a bad spot and lashing out in the only way I felt I could. It was my choice to do so and it was a bad one. They blend out flawlessly, I love the color story, very cohesive, and last incredibly long on my very crease prone lids. The shimmers apply with a dry brush as nicely as with the finger and when wet they look like liquid metal. Now I'm waiting for them to come out with more color themes that will work for my taste.. He loved RTS. Eventually he found this game called DarkOrbit. It basically consumed our entire evenings lol. 8) Being nice won make other people stop being 서귀포출장안마 toxic. In general, players wont report people for these type of actions unless it directly affects them. Somebody stole your mid? That guy wont get reported by your teammates because he didn steal THEIR lane, only yours. The three siblings were the children of very well off people who spoiled them with things but barely paid attention to them. My aunt basically did the slow fade from the daycare gig, leaving us stuck with the kids. The three siblings lived up the road from us and we wound up taking care of them until 2017 and their dog until 2018. In the end, when I tried to please him by complying it felt wrong and he was not satisfied. He ended up reproaching me the exact behaviour he wanted me to have. I think that he was looking for an ESFP/ISFP. After that for whatever reason he responded with "People will remember 서귀포출장안마 Led Zeppelin forever, but people will forget Kanye West". Keep in mind I rarely ever listen to Kanye at work. I mean I was listening to Solange when he walked in, so I have no clue why he chose to bring up Kanye. Especially not from random people. I already said it somewhere. I don care and care more about the fact that I like his makeup hence my user. This just seems false to me and I don think the mom is out of line. Sure you need something for a powder to adhere to, but it can adhere to a sheer primer, light foundation, or even a moisturizer. And cream is self adhesive by definition so i not sure where you coming from it needing a heavy base.. Is an active, supported market. No need to sign up on external sites. You also get affordable cards. Skin Whitening Remedies: It is almost a craze among the teenagers and women these days to have a lighter complexion. Among these people, some may experience imbalanced skin tone, such as darker complexion on the neck, but fairer on the face. While the rest just deal with pigmentation issues caused by sunburn. It medieval times like you said so they can really complain about things being unfair. The one with the biggest stick decides what is right or wrong and can throw people in the dungeon for looking at them funny. If he tells them to kill the mighty beast in the swamps that has been an nuance to his kingdom or be executed then they don really have a choice.. Main problem is my other hobby, of climbing, messes up my fingernails for picking!I read Capitalism Freedom when I was in school, a version that I guess was a later edition as I fairly sure it was post Vietnam. In the introduction, Friedman mentions a debate he participated in, with an audience of largely left wing college students opposed to his views; but he won the debate (he claims) because one of his policy proposals was abolishing the draft, and this was so popular that it overrode all of his other policy concerns that they might have questioned.With the draft not being the politicised issue it was in the 60s 70s, is there an issue like that in current US politics? That could sway left ish college students to support a free market candidate? Marijuana legalisation seems like the obvious one but even that hasn really attracted national political debate because it largely been handled at the state level.reverseswangmale 35 39 1 point submitted 10 days agoI was totally apathetic about politics when I was younger; when I went to university I had a very brief flirtation with hardcore libertarianism and otherwise hated student politics (which mostly consisted of Israel bashing); it only really as I grown older that I become more interested in and engaged with politics. On a political chart I don feel I moved in that much of a conservative direction (though doubtless teenage Me would be aghast that I no longer a single issue "legalise all drugs now!" voter).Among my friends who done the stereotypical shift of becoming more conservative as they aged, it has overwhelmingly tended to be those who were very active and politically engaged at a young age; I wonder if that a big predictor in that kind of shift.

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jleggettesvad-gd · 4 years ago

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Week 13 Blog Post: Nov. 12

For this week we needed to create a typeface that represents a certain phobia that started with the first letter in our names. What I found was not the greatest of choices so I went with the first letter in my middle name and settled on Necrophobia. I created a zombie themed typeface using screen printing ink. I used a salmon pink to represent the base and a dark green to represent decayed flesh and black for stitching. Essentially, the phobia Necrophobia, is the extreme or irrational fear of death or dead bodies. Hence why I chose to create the letters more zombie-like, bloated in certain areas, stitched together as some cliche zombies are presented and of course the darker colors to show various decaying areas on the flesh. This project is meant to be a poster for the UofSC Mental Health Awareness Week. Originally, I wasn’t sure how best to represent the concept for it as there are many things that can be connected to a fear of death and dead bodies. After creating a sketch which featured various possibilities for the typeface I decided upon the zombie look as it fit the criteria best.

The reading for this week was Chapter 9 on Branding and Packing. It was interesting to learn a bit more behind branding in general and see this point of view from another. I sympathize with the viewing of branding as a story meant to be told and attracting people to see what it holds in store. As stated, it’s meant to become akin to a personal experience which could cause it to be meaningful to whoever is pulled in by its allure. The various clientele that’s attracted and seek to hold firm to their investments are sometimes willing to lay down everything to protect that which they have invested in. Designers wanting to give clients the constant development of what they’ve invested in is what keeps fresh in the minds of the clients that the designers are doing their best to make the experience truly meaningful to them by including them heavily in the process. An example was given that designers want to try and create touch points for clients because they want them to have an experience similar to someone reading brand new physical book, smelling the ink waft off the crisp cut pages and feeling the cover of the book specially designed. It’s this experience that clients want and what designers aim to achieve in a sense for the wanted design.

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tdrcycle09 · 8 years ago

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Mini Challenge #2 - No Need To Adjust Your TV Sets...

This mini had our girls twisting and turning with their makeups, designing their best optical illusion makeups! Let’s see how they did!

Analyse Thropic

For this illusion makeup mini, I did a low-poly makeup look made of graphic triangles and quadrilaterals. The shapes are arranged and colored to mimic the placement of a standard drag beat, but the non-blended nature of these shapes gives the look a sort of computer-generated feel.

Lila: When you said you were doing a low poly look, I was so excited because it’s such a fun aesthetic. Now, I do like how you’ve set it out, it’s really intriguing and the effort into even the most minute areas, like how the hair and ears are covered. It’s just that your white line spacing is really putting it off the perfect-o mark for me. If you used a really, *really* thin brush the finesse your white spacing, it would honestly have made it look more low poly, because it’s coming across as mosaic rather than low poly. Good job with this, however! I hope you come back to this look in the future since it’s such an original idea.

Gluttoni: Anal! This is a very cool optical illusion and I like your take on the facial anatomy. Can't say it's the most innovative of them all but I can tell you are listening and learning so I can really ask for more.

Letha: I quite like the idea here, Analyse, its very “Your internet connection ain’t shit, so here’s some 144p playback”. The placement of the shapes, as well as the colors, make sense when deconstructing a face. Where you lose me is the white lines. They make everything too stark and disjointed, instead of just low-poly. I think had the shapes been connected while still holding their crisp lines, it might have been more effective. But good job, nonetheless!

Toni:I think this is a really interesting concept and I like that you went outside you comfort zone! Clearly you know your base paint because this style of paint requires you to know where everything goes. I would have loved to see thinner lines between the shapes to really drive home that it was all one image that was in low poly, as well as adding a few more triangles to add a bit more of the feel to it, but over all this is well done!

Antonina: Hey darling! I like what you’ve done here, it’s a great base for a future look. It just doesn’t feel like something finished. I think using this and adding more drag details, like more eye makeup, lashes and a fuller upper lip is something you should explore in the future, because it really is a good start. I’m not getting a super strong illusion from this, but I love the colors you have used and even tho the lines on your face could be sharper, I think they look good right now as well. You keep surprising me, keep it up!

Avana Noir

Hello Judges and TDR community. For this Mini I was inspired by surrealism art. So i decided to paint myself with three faces. Since surrealism if very out of this world and very imaginative. I really wanted to push what i can create with a makeup brush. This was kind of challegning but I think I did a great job. I was also inspired by the makeup used by the Japanese Geisha, hence the white face and uses of pinks. I hope you enjoy this look! Thank you!

Lila: On paper, and in execution, this is a great optical illusion and I hope you indulge with it a little bit more since it sticks to your aesthetic really well. For what it is, however, I wish you could’ve blended the Ghost In The Shell-like real face a lot more to show that the face is beneath the illusion of a split. I’m getting a Kim Chi vibe from this and I really think you could use this makeup in your look again, just as a whole white face rather than the split, but if you were to do this again with the split, I would concentrate on detailing the looks to appear more consistent with your features, because its looking a little messy. Overall, I do enjoy this, good submission, Mom!

Gluttoni: I was actually really surprised with your submission in the best way possible. This was ambitious and quite a cool illusion. I think this is probably the cleanest I've seen your makeup so honestly keep on this track.

Letha: This is a really fun idea, Avana, and the creativity really shows through with this concept. The illusion works if I don’t look too closely at it, but the details up close sort of spoil it. It would be more effective if your lines were crisper, and had more highlights/contours on the faces you added, as well as the perimeter of the middle face, to make them really pop. But still, good job!

Toni:Oh she had to show me she wore her nails, okay i see you! I really like this! I think it was a smart optical and for your first time atempting it I think it’s really well done. I do wish the lines were cleaned up more so it was clear that it was a clear split of the two faces and so that there arent just these huge black lines going down your face. I so think that you could have used a bit on the fine tuning of the fake faces. But over all this is a really cool look and something I think you should redo to go out in!

Antonina: You were one of my personal favorites this week! I’m getting Picasso meets Studio Ghibli from this. I don’t have a problem with the messy lines in this, because it’s supposed to be artsy. I got dizzy looking at your submission, and that’s a good thing when it comes to optical illusions, right? The line’s could be darker though, and the wig looks a little to plastic-y. A really dark line around the white face, and maybe a black wig would take me all the way to Spirited Away, but I still love this as it is.

Daddie Dearest

Let me first apologize for the quality of this submission. I was on very constricted time this week, and I hope the judges know the quality of my work is better than this. Anyway, my favorite part of drag is the transformation, so I chose a look that displayed both sides of Daddie in an interesting way. The drag side was heavily inspired by my lovely boy-girlfriend, Ellie Dee. For the boy side, I wanted it to look like someone took a hammer, smashed my face, and removed the pieces. Thanks judges!

Lila: I think makeup is one of your strongest assets, and I love your beat a lot because it’s so creative already with the element of your beard. However, I know this mini challenge has thrown half of you off, but you could’ve taken the crack to the Nth degree here. It would’ve been fun to see some sort of skin peeling illusion or something like (this) where the paper would rip off. Although there is an illusion here, I wish it was a little bit more than it is. Nevertheless, good job!

Gluttoni: Yo Dad, I'm just going to be honest and say I was expecting just a tad more from you. You are clear one of the more advanced makeup artist in the competition so a take on something you've done the previous week disappoints me slightly. I'm going to hold that against you because I respect you as an artist and this evidently still good work.

Letha: Daddie! The makeup is BEAT as always, and I love the contrasting tones/colors. That being said, if I haven’t seen this exact look from you, I feel like I’ve seen similar, and while it’s good, it’s not really pushing the creative envelope. I don’t get a big sense of an optical illusion, but still, there’s no denying your skills, so good job!

Toni: I know this week was really rough on you because you had to scrap your first idea and then quickly make something new out of nothing so I want to give you points for that because I know you were in a panic. I like this a lot, is it the most exciting thing out there? no but Its solid. I think you could have gone all the way and maybe blacked out some chips where it looks like pieces of your face had fallen off kinda like a cracked doll. Over all I think this is a good submission for your situation.

Antonina: Hola papi! This is very pretty, it’s a cool submission, but it’s not the best match for the challenge. But you already know that. I think this was just another chance for you to keep practicing your makeup. You look great, but it was not one of my favorite looks I’ve seen from you so far. The gray part looks a little random and rushed. Maybe if the parts where your real skin tone was showing was white or at least a lot lighter it would give it more dimension. Keep on pushing papi, you got a lot of stuff to show us I can tell.

Dotte Com

Behold the face of pixel perfection! It was difficult to mine my crafting skills when it came to this challenge, but that didn’t stop me one 8-bit! There’s more than just drawing squares, since your 3D shape has to appear 2D. It was one direction that I enjoyed playing with and I feel like I rose to this cyber-occasion.

Lila: I LOVE this, and I expect to see you continuing this type of experimentation. This was a huge risk and it is up there with one of the more creative choices of this mini challenge. Two things (because I’m nitpicky) that you could’ve enhanced our digital experience with, the pixels could be a lot smaller in some places, your nose contour is looking a lot wider than usual and it could’ve been shaped just to make it more narrow. And, instead of the wavy hair, you could’ve treat us to more of a squared off headpiece or wig, just to tie in that digital look you were trying to serve. This illusion was really exciting to wait for and you did such a great job with it, none the less!

Gluttoni: Dotte! I am so proud of you for this one! You really took the theme and ran the fuck away with this. Not only that you definitely tied it into your own persona to really seal the deal. It's a little rough around the edges but I think got good grasp on different hues and saturation that I wouldn't expect from you. Keep blazing a path like this for yourself and I think you may find yourself in the top way more often. Being tenacious will get you everywhere in life.

Letha: This is a really cool idea, Dotte, and totally fitting for your aesthetic. I’m not totally feeling the hair here, as something shorter or maybe with a blunt bang might have carried the whole “cybernetic technomatic” type vibe a little more. Overall, the pixels are in cool places and seem to mimic a face (as well as down the neck yas thank you for doing that), I would appreciate cleaner lines though, as it appears muddy in places. I love how you took this mini as an opportunity to both experiment with your makeup skills, as well as expressing who Dotte is, so Halleloo to that!

Toni: Dotte I was worried for you with this that it wasn’t going to be enough but I really love this. I think its fun and just enough of an illusion to really be interesting to look at. I love that you paid attention to the challenge and did everything from shoulders up because that was asked of you and not many of your sisters took that chance. I think if you were to do this again it would be nice to slow down and really make those lines hard and crisp, mostly around the eyes. I really loved that, good job this week!

Antonina: I think this is the best I’ve seen you look! The colors are perfect for your face! Of course you shouldn’t do pixel makeup every week,but I think you could really use parts of this in your “normal” makeup. The dedication alone of painting your chest is great. I know hair isn’t part of this challenge, but a small comment on that anyway. I love this hairdo, I just want some more volume on top of your head. Great work this week.

Ebony Boss

For week 2 I told myself I was gonna step it up majorly. I feel as if my cracked porcelain doll really did that. I wanted to do an illusion that is not the most well known for being an illusion. I think the look is one of my best and really does make me look like a cracked porcelain doll.

Lila: While I agree that this is the best you’ve looked in a while, this is a little safe for what we’ve received for the challenge. I do think you have stepped in terms of bringing us a stronger beat than you’ve done in the past, but I think it’d be much more impactful if you chiseled your contour to a fine point to try and create that porcelain perfection most dolls have. Try to bring in your contour on your nose a little bit more to make it seem more narrow. I wish the elements had a lot more, like adding really thin cracks in different shades, a brown perhaps, just to compliment the harsher cracks. Overall, this is a good submission this mini!

Gluttoni: My dear Ebony, I am glad I got to see you start and finish this look because I can easily differentiate the growth for the before and after. You took my advice for cleaning up your line and might I say I think the overall illusion benefited from that greatly. You have a very stoic face which I think would be softened if you were a little more expressive. I want you to look as personable as you actually are. The concept of this look is good and extra points for making it a whole look but do you think this the most inventive idea you could achieve. Push yourself darling.

Letha: You really are improving with every mug you do, Ebony, and that is evident with this look. The cracks have believable shapes to them, especially on the forehead, and some shading/highlighting would sell them even more. The nose contour is a tad muddy and doesn’t really make your nose look thinner. The cheek contour could also be moved up a bit, as it is basically on your jaw. The contour color threw me for a second, but it does make sense with the story you’re telling, but it is a bit muddy/patchy in places (the forehead, for instance). I wish the lips had a more “dolly” shape to them, but the mouth lines are cute. I will say this for taking mug pics- find your lens and find an expression. A wide-eyed doll expression could have helped sell this look, but you look a tad over it, so keep that in mind for the future! Strong work!

Toni: I said this to you before but I’ll say it again, I think this is the best you’ve looked ever to me. I think that you should take what you did here and apply it to your normal makeup. I do wish the lines were a bit more clean and sharp, as well as maybe being a bit more, for lack of a better term, polished and flawless like most dolls are if that make sense. I think if you spent more times on your eyes as well to give us that doll eye shape would sell this more. Also girl, where is your lash going? what is she doing? over all I am really proud of you!

Antonina: Hey babe! Great step up, I don’t even recognize you besides that nose contour that still needs work! The look is very cute though. To really make it an illusion, I would have wanted you to make your skin look like porcelain. A lot of shimmering highlight might do the trick. I see doll, I just wanted MORE doll. Take it over the top, the concept is cute but needs more work to really fool us you’re a cracked doll. Keep on pushing doll face!

Judah Kiss

Hi judges! So we originally talked and this mini was going to be late due to personal circumstances around my new job, and I was very upset about it. Woke up this morning at 7am and couldn’t sleep; so I got right to work to submit something.

For this mini, i chose to attempt to recreate Bearonce Knowes’ negative face makeup, with the purpose of makeup turning my face into ‘camera negative’. With more time and more blending I think it would have come out better, but the idea is there, and I’m very happy to have submitted something on time.

Lila: I see a drive in you that is surrounded in a lot of passion for this competition, so I wouldn’t be so hard on myself! Now, Although there are elements that are slightly askew and rushed, I do like this. It’s a nice play on an optical illusion in the sense that it’s more of a inversion - bezold illusive where you’d have to manipulate the image to see it’s opposite contour-highlighting. I think you’ve said it best in your description that if you did have a little more time, you’d have been able to perfect this makeup job. Nevertheless, great job, I hope to see you come back to this idea and perfect it in the future because its a fun little makeup you’ve created!

Gluttoni: Judah, girl.... This is probably the opposite of what I expected from you. I know you have a keen eye for detail and this keep of makes me want to retract that idea I have of you. The idea itself it's definitely on par with the creative force that I know you to be but the execution leaves something to be desired. I think your proportions need to flesh out sometime during the competition.

Letha: This is such a cool look, Judah, and even though it is a replica of a look someone else did, it’s very creative. I do agree that some more time on blending would have served you well, as well as having more time to make crisper lines. More work around the eyes, and perhaps some white lashes would also have been a really neat addition. I do think the bare neck reads as stark against the grayscale face and the dark shirt, so either painting it black or some sort of gray would have helped. All in all, strong work, Judah!

Toni: I’m glad you were able to get on in time and I see the clear influence. I do like this and think for your first attempt at it that it was done well but due to rushing there are issues with it that really shatter the illusion. I think if you had more time to slow down and focus on blending and making sure it was one flawless transition from dark to light then it would be a really amazing look! Good job!

Antonina: I didn’t need to read your explanation to understand your concept. It’s very obvious, and I like that. It’s a good thing that you have references and tries new things. I know your lines and blending is normally much more clean than this, so I hope stress won’t be your downfall in this competition. I see creativity and passion, so I hope you will have time to really perfect your next submission.I know you’ve got what it takes.

Klinker

I'm the Russian Window. The ruined country post war represented by Windows with their flag's color.

Lila: I’m gonna be honest, I don’t see much of an optical illusion with this makeup. It’s more mondrian artsy fartsy than a head being taken off the body or an eye socket being pulled all the way down to the chin. With your makeup, try to set it so that it isn’t shiny with translucent powder, or even baby powder for that matter. I wish you gave this a little bit more dimension as well as the flat colours could’ve had that Phi Phi O’Hara look to them. Overall, its an alright submission.

Gluttoni: *Gluttoni’s Critiques will be edited in later, she apologises in advance!*

Letha: Heya, Klinker! This look makes for a cool photograph, but I’m not really getting “optical illusion”. Part of optical illusion is tricking the eye to seeing something that isnt really there, and the best way to sort of “cheat” new shapes is to have either a totally matte surface, or to have shine in very specific areas. With this paint, the colors aren’t “set”, so your skin sort of shines and the illusion is betrayed by the real shapes that are there. I would suggest powdering to make it more believable, but good job, nonetheless!

Toni: Well dear I can’t say im too excited about this submission because it seems instead of doing an optical illusion you decided to give us a bit more of an art movement, something very “some body that I use to know”. that aside im glad you went out of your comfort zone but for next time you do this make sure you set your makeup so you dont look so dewy and make sure to have very clean and very sharp lines like an actual mosaic would have.

Antonina: As art photographs, I think this is really cool. As submission for this challenge, not so much. I don’t know how to critique this really, because I like it for all the wrong reasons. The photos are strong and feels almost political for some reason? You are so unexpected, and I love that, but for the second time in a row I can’t really connect your submission to the challenge. Don’t waste this chance to grow, because I see a lot of good in you that I want to see more of.

Lexi Lamour

Well would you believe this shit?! I woke up from a well deserved nap after results were posted Monday and when I went to roll over and get comfortable my body moved....but my head didn't!!! When I went to reach for my head I found that it was detached from my body! In a PANIC I picked it up and ran to the mirror only to find out that my fear was true! I came to get my phone only to find a message from that witch bitch, Analyse! She was NOT happy about coming 2nd in the main for week one and while still in her witchy look cast a spell on me to sever my head! Only thing is there are 2 things that worked in my favor. 1) She got the spell wrong.....and 2) I don't have a soul....just a dark empty void of a shell. At first I was shocked, but then I decided I still looked good. I guess things could be worse! ¯\_(ツ)_/¯Hi, Judges! I knew what I wanted to do as soon as I saw what the mini challenge was. This was a fun bit of makeup that I've always wanted to try and see how it looked. I really enjoyed doing it and taking a multitude of different pics. I couldn't choose which ones to do, so I picked 2 that fit in with the first part of my description. Now....can you tell Analyse to fix me.....before I throw my head at her!!!!!!

Lila: I am honestly happy with this. No, it’s not a full face of makeup, but it’s definitely an optical illusion that I was expecting to see. It would’ve been fun to see you in some face makeup, even if it was just like a little beat on, it would’ve been funny to even have some sort of like Toni face mask realness, like you were in the spa chair getting your facial done. Take care with how you draw the hollow part of the neck, I would’ve love to have seen some reds or whatever your drag character oozes inside, even if you stuck Lisa Frank stickers all over the inside area I wouldn’t have been mad! Nevertheless, I’m happy that you went down this route, and I like this submission a lot!

Gluttoni: *Gluttoni’s Critiques will be edited in later, she apologises in advance!*

Letha: Now THIS is an optical illusion! Even if I hadn’t read your explanation it would have made sense, which is always a plus. I’m guessing the “curse” aspect is why it’s such a clean cut, but I still think adding some things like a trachea or some arteries (not gore, just a cross-section) might have helped sell the illusion a bit more, as right now it’s just sort of a patchy gray. I do wish there was a little more going on on the face, even like a sleeping mask because you “just woke up”. Still, this is a great job, and you really sold it!

Toni: This is an illusion! I really am shocked by this because this is so cool and at first i was like “what the fuck?”. I would have loved if you had done more thought, because it is a shoulders up it does seem a bit bare, even a light paint would have added something to this submission. It was smart to ahve a balck back ground that way it would make sense to have the black in your neck. Over all this is a really well done illusion.

Antonina: Hi Lexi! I’m gonna be honest....I don’t see it. Maybe I’m just stupid lol. The disconnected head is a good idea though. Without any face makeup, the neck is the only thing to look at, and then it looks a little weak. Maybe I’m just a little spoiled with your last main challenge submission. The top part of the neck makeup where it’s really black looks really cool though. The idea is good, it’s exactly the kind of thing I was hoping for. The end results just didn’t match my expectations because I know how fierce you are.

Marcella Fox

Hello judges! Let me introduce you to my great Aunt Hortense - she was a model back in the 1980s, known for her high cheekbones and striking gaze. She felt out of the public eye after a scandal involving a grapefruit, and since then has kept a low profile. The menopause has been rather unkind to her, resulting in a more-than-barely-noticeable moustache and, as you can see, she is still recovering from her recent rhinoplasty procedure. Still though, she never steps out of the house without a face full of make-up - I’m sure you can all agree she still looks glamorous! I had a lot of fun with this mini challenge! I immediately thought of doing an upside-down illusion, and I was inspired by this cyclops I saw while googling ideas. I made an eye to put in my mouth, turned my actual eyes into giant nostrils, and hid my real nostrils with a plaster/bandaid. My eyebrows became a moustache, and I drew a giant pair of lips on my forehead. I wrapped a scarf around my head to look like, well, a scarf :p And held some hair underneath my chin to complete this fab 80’s look :]

Lila: SHOCKED. GAGGED. PULLED THE PAG. Marcella Fox, this is friggin’ CRAZY and I love it. The fact that some people won’t be able to establish you’re upside down and your eyeball is your mouth opened, I keep having to look back and do double takes because it’s SO interesting. I only noticed that you were upside down when I saw your hand holding the wig, and I’m just a sporadic mess because there’s no words to describe how you hit the nail on the head for me this challenge. One thing, and it’s a little nitpick, is if you had some sort of stand or piece of fabric tacked to your headwrap so that it looks like your character has a body, but like, honestly, the tiniest nitpick isn’t gonna take away how much I am impressed by this look. Great submission, Marcie!

Gluttoni: *Gluttoni’s Critiques will be edited in later, she apologises in advance!*

Letha: Up until this very moment, Toni had always been my favorite Cyclops from the 80′s. But NO LONGER, Marcella, it’s your Aunt Hortense! You managed to brilliantly combine camp/comedy with technique and the result is honestly so amazing. The lines are great and make sense, and the highlighting on the lips is so good. Your workarounds for hiding your natural features are also quite clever (though i would have suggested a bit more dramatic of a bandage for the rhinoplasty, as the beige of the current one gets a little lost in the shuffle of the face). These are honestly just nitpicks though, because I am still in AWE of this piece. Amazing job, Marcella!

Toni: YOU COME INTO MY HOUSE? AND MAKE ME LOOK AT THIS MONSTER?? I’m shocked, gagged, disgusted, horrified and I love every bit of it! This makes me so freaking uncomfortable to look at but in the best was possible. I think this holds truest to what a makeup illusion should be because this is so hard for my brain to process. If you wore this look out youd get tipped no question. Just make sure to have those really clean lines so that everything looks a bit more realistic, but over all im SHOOK BITCH.

Antonina: Wow! This is like a challenge: “How many faces can you find?”. I get so much backstory just by looking at your pictures, and to read your description was a joy. Keep taking every chance to be funny! The creature you created is so interesting and I can’t stop staring at it! I honestly don’t know what to say more than you did such a great job.

Paprika

My makeup for the mini was inspired by 80s Patrick Nagel, in the way that he drew the features of so many of the women in his prints and the color scheme he used, as well as (obviously) miss Kim Chi. I love drawing on my face and doing creative mugs so for the opitcal illusion challenge I wanted to play off of that and BECOME a drawing.

Lila: You are so pretty and no matter what you do, optical illusion or normal face, you’re always gonna make me jealous. I would consider this an optical illusion because I’ve seen a lot of people try this with the Marilyn Monroe tutorials and stuff, so I’m pleased to see you go down this route! You look like a CD cover for an indie music band which I enjoy. I wish the black was a little more black than grey. I’m guessing you used either a black face paint or eyeliner, so to get that pure black just set the area with some eyeshadow of the same colour. However, great submission this week, Paps!

Gluttoni: *Gluttoni’s Critiques will be edited in later, she apologises in advance!*

Letha: This is a very cool look, Paprika, and beautiful as well. The colors are simple but the effect is still striking. I would suggest better lighting (I’m guessing that’s a window to your right, try facing it so the tone is more even all over your face) as well as a better backdrop, even hanging up a black sheet could work. I like the shapes of the face a lot, but I would recommend setting the black with shadow to help make it as opaque as possible. The hair is brown instead of black, which is fair if that’s all you have, but having a more solid (less flyaway) hairstyle would match this look I think. Overall, great job, Pappy!

Toni: As someone who has Nagels art hanging all over her drag room i am so glad to see you do something like this! I really think this is striking and true to the art style. I don’t think this is what would be considered a standard illusion but the way you did it really sells it for me. I think if you really darkened thosse shadows and cleaned up your lines it would be so amazing. Good work this week babe!

Antonina: I really like this. I wanna see a video of you in this look reading poetry in french. It looks really good, there are some areas that could use some more work though. For example, the crease lines are very different from eachother. If you’re gonna do this again, make the dark parts darker and maybe some cool collar bone shadows? I think you’re on the right track, keep it up.

Phoebe St. Jefferson

For my mini I was really anxious about this, because make up is for sure one of my insecurities in drag. Despite this i chose to do something really ambitious and yolo my way through this. I decided to turn myself into a snake/reptile type creature, but also blend my hand into my face. For this I followed the example of this video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sekYblpNDAo But I also tried to make it a little more cartoony, something fun that will actually look like my kind of style. For the make up I primed, sketched out where the mouth was with clown white, then darkened the lines with a cheap eyeliner pencil. For the color of the snake I went in with clown white mixed in with a little black eyeshadow. The hardest part of this challenge was taking a picture where all the lines matched up. Anyways enough of me rambling. Hope u enjoy boos xoxoxoxo.

Lila: WHAT? Scared of makeup my ass! This is by far it’s one of the more creative submissions we received! I see an optical illusion in this, honestly. It must be a trend to have snakes on this cycle, so I cant wait to see who does a snake for the main challenge. One thing to watch is your positioning with this type of optical illusion. I can see a small shed of skin at the bow of your thumb and index finger, and you could’ve colour matched your hoodie and background to try and make it pop a lot more. Otherwise, great submission, Phoebs!

Gluttoni: *Gluttoni’s Critiques will be edited in later, she apologises in advance!*

Letha: This look is honestly incredible, Phoebe! It’s very creative, and you went outside the box by incorporating/camouflaging your hand into the illusion! Are the lines perfect and crisp? Not entirely, but the effect is still there. I would appreciate a bit more detail on the mouth itself, as it reads more of a flat pink, but it’s still really cool. One way I could see this look being elevated would be to have had the hand painted as a CLOSED mouth with maybe the tongue flicking out, then lowering your hand to reveal the open mouth, but I can understand the difficulty of trying to pull that off lol. You should be very proud of yourself, Phoebe, and I hope this mini helps you with your makeup insecurity, because from what I see, you can do great work!

Toni: Honestly for your level of makeup skills this is amazing and I’m so glad you went down this route and took my suggestions. I would make sure to pay attention to where you are taking your pictures and their position because they can alter how its viewed and I think if you had the opportunity to take it against a solid background it would have made this more striking but I really love this over all!

Antonina: Thanks for the nightmares Phoebs!! This creature is scary af lol. This is one of the most memorable submissions we got this weak! That paint must have taken you quite some time to do! If you want to do this look again, get some snake eye lenses to get the full fantasy, but for a week 2 mini challenge of TDR I think you’ve shown a lot of dedication already. All the blacks could be darker, but most imporantly around your eyes. It looks a little sloppy. But hey, whatever, this is a great sssssssssssubmission.

Sugar Monroe

For this “optical illusion” mini, I was inspired buy a lot of color blocking makeup I saw and also stained glass? Idk. This is what I came up with. Lol

Lila: When I opened up the submissions, I got a little bit of an Indiah Ferrah / Phoenix 1st Episode Workroom vibe when I saw some of the other girls doing a similar look to what you’ve done this mini. While the whole mondrian-mosaic fantasy is kind of the go-to illusion, it’s not really optical, or for that matter original. a spin on this could’ve been following the natural contours of your face with the shapes or even doing your contours with the black lines and a blending of all the colours. It just doesn’t scream illusive to me. With your colours, try to add a darker and a lighter hue too, just to make them seem 3-D. Overall, this was an alright submission.

Gluttoni: *Gluttoni’s Critiques will be edited in later, she apologises in advance!*

Letha: While I do think the colors are very refreshing and vibrant, a lot of the critiques I had for Klinker apply here, Sugar. The black lines are generally strong and not muddy, but setting the areas with a corresponding powder (or even a translucent color all over) would have sold an illusion more. You lose opacity in some place, the white/purple most noticeably, but most of the areas pop quite nicely. I feel like the illusion aspect of the challenge could have been executed better, but I do enjoy the look you made. Solid work.

Toni:I know you had some troubles with this mini but i do wish you had worked more with the judges to find something you were able to do ebcause this is much less of an illusion and more just kinda an art style makeup if thake makes sense. Be careful on that babe. But I do want to give you props for going out side of your normal paint, if you were to do this again I’d say think out those black lines so that you can have more color showing as well as adding more shapes. Good luck this week love!

Antonina: The red and the pink looks really bright and good, but what’s going on with the purple on your forehead? All the other colors looks good, but you should have filled in the purple a lot more. It’s not my favorite submission this week, but that doesn’t mean you look bad, it’s cute. I just wasn’t surprised by it. I think you did a good job for what it is, but I wanted more of a concept. Also, a little more color on the lips wouldn’t hurt. I believe in you Sugar, surprise us next time! This is alright, but give us more!

#tdr #tdrc9 #mini challenge

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