#fc ask meme

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Lana Condor!

Thank you so much for sending in a faceclaim! Hopefully I don’t let you down, lol.

Name: Emily NgoFandom: Twilight

Bella Swan was Chief Swan’s kid. She was new in town, a nondescript white girl with brown hair and brown eyes and a way of hunching her shoulders that made her seem two inches tall. She was obviously uncomfortable with attention, and with talking, and, well, just uncomfortable in general.

Bella Swan was boring.

She had a surprising wit, sure, but she utterly failed at delivery, and no one else ever got the joke, and Emily was sure the girl’s next attempt at sarcasm would leave her socially stunted for two years.

The only interesting thing about Bella Swan wasn’t even about Bella Swan, it was about the Cullens. 

Two years that family had been in town and, despite the veritable wealth of interesting people to interact with over that time, they ignored every single person until Bella Swan swanned into town. 

Suddenly she was sitting with them at lunch, talking to them in the halls, dating Edward Cullen, and the abrupt shift had to mean something - it couldn’t be that the family were just that enamoured with her. 

It was Emily’s pet project. Figure out why the Cullens gave two shits about the most boring girl ever to live in the worlds most boring town, and maybe solve the mystery of said towns most mysterious inhabitants in the process. 

She sneeked, stole, and bribed; she had her friend Caleb ask his Deputy mother about the strange accidents Bella got into; she collected a notebooks worth of research on the Cullens and Bella and their unlikely friendship. It wasn’t until Emily actually emailed the principal of the school the Cullens supposedly transferred from that she realized something important.

The Cullens, the whole family, had gone by different names.

They were using aliases. 

Emily followed them, after that. Into the woods, to their house, to Bella’s house - and then she saw something she couldn’t unsee.

Edward Cullen, sparkling in the sunlight as he lay next to his girlfriend in a meadow, like some demented fairy creature. 

And then he turned. And he looked through the trees. And he stared her right in the eyes.

His irises were pitch black. 

send me an FC and I’ll think up a character on the spot

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Ruth Negga!!

Oooo this one was hard, mostly because my instinct was to put her in the MCU but she was in the Agents of SHIELD show so that would be a bit weird sdfgh

Name: Imogen AaronFandom: Supernatural

Imogen and Jess had been best friends since middle school. They’d grown up together, become women together, spent nights upon nights braiding each others’ hair and watching horror movies and stuffing their faces with sweet onion potato chips. They were soul sisters, they liked to say, born only three days apart; on Imogen’s eighteenth birthday they’d gotten matching Aquarius tattoos.

 They got into Stanford together - Jess for engineering, Imogen for education - and been roommates their first and second years. 

It wasn’t until Jess met Sam Winchester that everything changed. Not in a bad way, it was just… different. Unexpected. Jess seemed much too confident to fall for a shy guy like Sam.

Oh, if only she’d judged him right. 

She’s spending the night at their house on campus when someone breaks in, and she’s got her Swiss army knife clutched deftly in one hand before her eyes are even all the way open. Lying on the couch, she’s the first line of defense. 

It’s a man, she can tell by the way he walks, and she’s a second away from leaping up to stab him right in the throat when Sam slinks down the stairs and makes a ‘shush’ motion at her. Oh, okay, he can deal with it, she supposes.

Turns out the invader is Sam’s estranged brother Dean.

Sam leaves. He says it’s only for a weekend, but something in Imogen tells her it’ll be a lot longer than that before Sam Winchester returns to Stanford. 

It’s the same feeling that has her checking in on Jess that Sunday evening.

It’s the same feeling that has her throwing out her hand when she sees Brady cornering her best friend, a sadistic grin on his face; the same thing that has her screaming in rage as she sees blood spill out over Jess’ nightgown; the same thing that has Brady flying out the window in a spray of broken glass and turning to black smoke in the yard.

Jess is bleeding, and scared, but she’s alive.

And Imogen might not know how she did what she did, but if it keeps Jess safe? She’ll do it for the rest of her life. 

[jeronicashippersclub]

SEND ME AN FC (OR MULTIPLE) IN MY ASKS && I’LL ANSWER THE FC ASK MEME

will i play with this faceclaim? FUCK YAS / no / very selectively / only if it’s the canon fc / if no, is it because they are overused: yes / no / it’s due to past experience comments: ...

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erin moriarty for the fc ask!

oof, these have been sitting in my inbox forever, I’m so sorry D: However, all this waiting means my creative juices are all fresh. I’d like to welcome you to my amazing AU world for this fandom, where things make sense and the characters don’t suck. Like I said, super AU. (also AU for other reasons, like the entire plot for this actual canon character, who’s kind of not canon anymore since I got my grubby little paws on her) (also this got super fucking long oops)

Name: BriaFandom: House of Night

Before she was Marked, before the Tracker hunted her down and spectacularly imploded her life, her name had been Barbara Montgomery. Her mom called her Barbie, so did her younger sister, although the former did it with love and the latter with derision, but everyone else just called her Barb. 

Life wasn’t easy, exactly, but it wasn’t hard. Not as hard as it could have been. Her mom wasn’t around a lot, left her to look after Zoey and Kevin more evenings than not, but she knew it was necessary; it wasn’t easy to be a single mom of three kids, working two jobs, never getting enough sleep, never getting any time for yourself.  Sure, Linda Montgomery was quick to spend any free time with her youngest children, often leaving Barbara by the wayside, but it was understandable. Her siblings were little, they needed mom more than she did. 

That’s just how it worked.

Kevin got it. He was five years younger than her and he still got it. He understood that sometimes things sucked and Barb had to be the one to pick him up after school or make dinner or help him with his homework. He was shy to the bone with a mischievous streak a mile wide, and Barb loved him to bits.

She loved Zoey, too, but Zoey didn’t seem to return the sentiment.

Three years younger than Barb, Zoey didn’t understand why Barb got to do more things than her, had more independence than her, more authority than her. No matter she got more time with mom, no matter she was Grandma’s obvious favourite, no matter she got to spend her afternoons after school however she wanted instead of at a job to help pay the bills. Barb was the enemy, plain and simple.

Barb had blonde hair like dad so she was a flake like him. Barb liked fashion so she was dumber than a brick. Barb wore makeup so she was a slut. Barb was a cheerleader so she was vapid and shallow.

That’s just how life was in Zoey-land. Simple, black and white, easy.

Then, first day of Barb’s sophmore year, there was a vampyre waiting at the front door of the school. 

His finger on her forehead was eternal burning, and then that Mark was there, and then her friends cowered away, and then she fled. Everything was too bright, too loud, too much.

Somehow she got home - God, she must have taken the bus, how did nobody stop her? - and mom was already at work so there was nobody, nobody to help or to talk to or to care. 

Barb Montgomery was all alone.

She knew she had to get to that House of Night, the one in Tusla, so her brain wouldn’t start hemorrhaging out of her eyeballs, but she also knew how her mom felt about vampyres.

So Barb left a note, packed a bag, grabbed her envelope of spare cash from the back of her sock drawer, and called a cab to take her to her new life. Or death. The death thing was also a big possibility. 

As soon as she arrived she shed her name, replaced it, let herself embrace who she was going to become rather than who she had been. No more Barbara jeers, no more Montgomery shame, no more Redbird apathy. 

She’d be Bria. Bria wouldn’t be alone and terrified in an empty house, not ever. 

She excelled in her classes, she had a cat, she was a member the fencing and dance clubs, she was part of the Dark Daughters, she had her mentor Professor Lenobia, hell, she even had an affinities! 

Affinities! Two! It blew her mind. Sword-fighting and Spirit, those were hers, and they called to her and her to them, and she was part of something bigger.

Sure, her family never visited, not even Grandma Redbird who had always claimed to love each grandchild equally, but she had her friends Erik and Aahana and that was enough. 

Until she went down to the mess hall for dinner one early morning, a sixth former, her old life nearly forgotten, her Change nearly complete, and saw her little sister sitting with Stevie-Rae Johnson. 

Her little sister with a filled in crescent moon blazing bright on her forehead. 

send me an FC and I’ll think up a character on the spot

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camila queiroz for the fc ask

ohhhh man I am sosorry I didn’t answer this for so long. I was trying to think of afandom for her and then I kept getting distracted but! I’manswering now? Ha, hope that’s okay - thank you so much for sendingthis in :)

Name: GlisterGallowayFandom: The Hunger Games

She’d beenseventeen when she volunteered for the Games.

Her family was poor,poor for a family from One, and winning the Games would solve all oftheir problems. They would have a house big enough for herself, hermother, and her four sisters. They would have better food, betterclothes, better opportunities for her younger siblings. More thanthat, though.

If she won the 69thHunger Games, Glister would have glory. The middle child, the plainchild, the unimpressive child, all her life she’d been told herbest bet was to train as hard as she could and volunteer on anin-between year.

That’s how itworked, in One, every even-numbered Games their tributes werespecially selected to put themselves up; on odd-numbered years, itwas all down to speed. So she did.

Luck was on herside, because she was first by a wide margin, and walked to thepodium with her head held high. The male tribute had been a sixteenyear old boy from the wealthiest sector, Trink Skiesword, built likea house with hard blue eyes.

She killed him onthe third night, slit his throat while he slept, him and three of theothers in her alliance. The fourth had woken up and escaped, then wasrun through by the girl from Nine.

The Arena that yearhad been a desolate wasteland, a desert with no reprieve in sight,and if it hadn’t been for the sponsor who sent her water she wouldhave died of thirst before her first kill.

It came down to herand, surprisingly, the girl from Eleven on the eighth day of theGames, and Glister won on a sheer stroke of luck. Luck, and a lot oftime spent running the track back in One.

On the fifth day theGamemakers had released a pack of mutts, specially designedhound-like things spliced for the heat and the sand. There was sometype of bear in them, too, and more than a hint of scorpion. Theywere venomous, and clever, and fast, and never seemed to tire.

The good news was,once she and Eleven were corralled together, there was no time forEleven to corner her with that sword she carried. No, the mutts foundthem just in time.

Because Glisterdidn’t have to outrun them, she just had to outrun Eleven.

She did.

That sound filledher nightmares, even now. The terrified screaming, the wet tearing,the desperate howls of hungry creatures never meant to exist, acacophony, a deranged symphony to haunt her every moment.

But she won.

Glister Galloway,seventeen, won the 69th Hunger Games and brought herfamily money and space and glory.

And being a Victorwas its own arena, she learned very quickly.

There was noescaping the Games.

She was beautiful,she learned, exotic to thepeople of the Capitol.

And she paid forthat water over and over and over again.

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Alia Shawkat!!!

i found the best gif that inspired this one haha

Name: Ivy PelletierFandom: Twilight

Her mom asked her to stop by the studio on her way home from band practice, pack a few of the remaining boxes up and away into storage so mice or bugs didn’t get into any of the old costumes, and it wasn’t too arduous of a task, so Ivy easily agreed. 

It was just the dance studio. She’d been there a thousand times; nothing bad would happen.

Already dusk by the time she got there, the entire block looked a bit terrifying in the glow of the flickering streetlights, but Ivy was quick to brush away her apprehension with a scoff at herself. Being scared of the dark was stupid, there was nothing out there. She hitched her backpack up on her shoulder, flute case held loosely in her other hand, and started to walk across the street.

That’s when she saw movement in one of the windows.

That’s when she saw a girl, dark hair and pale skin, slink up the steps and trip her way through the double doors into the studio.

What. The. Fuck?

The girl hadn’t seen her, Ivy was sure, so she darted to the side of the building and hid among the garbage bins, her eyes fixed on the windows where long shadows were playing against the glass. Why the fuck were people in the studio? It was closed, people! Not open for business!

Why was she hiding, anyway? She had every right to waltz right in there and demand the people leave. Teenagers smoking weed or having sex or vandalizing her mom’s building - oh God, what if they were hardened criminals? What if they were shooting up heroin in there? Should she call the cops?

She had just started reaching into her bag for her phone when there was a great crash from inside the studio, like- like the wall of mirrors had been smashed to pieces. That would be expensive! Oh she was definitely gonna call the-

An ear piercing scream broke through the night air, and Ivy’s blood chilled in her veins. Holy fuck, holy fuck, that girl was getting murdered in there.

The cops would be too slow, if the continued screaming was any indication, and she couldn’t just stand by and listen while some girl her age was… was something just ten feet away!

So she tore out of her hiding spot and darted up the steps, flute case clutched in front of her like a weapon. Two small teenage girls could take on an assailant, right? If they worked together? This wasn’t her running to her death, right? Right?

She burst into the entry hall and followed the sounds of destruction to the room near the back, the biggest studio they had in the building, and stopped dead in her tracks.

There was a man holding a camcorder, pointing it at the brunette lying on her ground, and he was taunting her, kicking her around and laughing even as the girl’s leg bent at a completely unnatural angle. There was blood smeared everywhere, and shards of glass, and the fluorescents from the street were shining in through the broken windows to illuminate the carnage, and-

“What do we have here?”

Ivy screamed and fell on her ass, scrambling back on her hands. The man was right there, right there in front of her, when he’d been on the other side of the room just a millisecond ago, like he fucking teleported or some shit!

“Oh, Isabella,” the man crooned - and Ivy realized then that his eyes were blood red - as he looked over to the broken girl on the ground. “Did your Cullens pick up another stray?” 

Using the wall as support to clamber back to her feet, Ivy brandished her flute case like a bat. “Stay back!” 

The man actually growled at her, and then she was being held in the air by her throat, case dropped to the hardwood floor, and she couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t breathe, his hand was squeezing, crushing, her eyes felt like they were going to pop out of her head, and that flute would be expensive to replace if it broke from that fall, and-

She was on the floor again, coughing and sputtering, her hands coming up shakily to touch the bruises that were surely forming around her neck. 

What the fuck? There were more people. It was too dark to see them clearly, they were moving too fast, and even before Ivy could make a sound, three of the newcomers pounced on the man and tore him limb from limb.

It wasn’t until they had dragged an old metal drum up from somewhere, shoved all the bits in, and lit the dismembered man on fire, did even one of the new ones notice her. 

Two of them were crowded around the broken-looking brunette on the ground, but one of the rippers was looking straight at her; oh Jesus, the girl looked like a pixie, she couldn’t be taller than five foot and she just ripped a man apart with her bare hands. 

What the fuck, what the fuck, WHAT THE FU-

Calm. She felt so calm, it was nice. Like the summer she spent in England with her brother and his wife, like warm tea, like a cool spring breeze. The fire was warm, too, burning in that metal drum. Who were all these strangers in her mom’s studio? Had to be friends, she supposed, but it didn’t matter.

She was calm, these people were here, and everything was fine.

send me an FC and I’ll think up a character on the spot