#ESPECIALLY THIS ASH MAKER BITCH

[lymmielove]

reading hundred year quest rn and THIS DRAGON EATER GUILD CAN SMD I DONT CARE

[divine17]

↳ READ MY MIND | MASTERLIST

Request: “Fezco with a trouble maker reader? Someone who always end of in beef or getting in fights.” - Anon

+ “I would like to see fezco with a bad bitch like both of them with the energy of only soft with each other” - @possuir-se

+ “hii !! could i possibly request a fezco x reader ? maybe their fwb or have been pining for each other for a while?" - Anon

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: Fem!Reader, brief kissing/nsfw, mentions of physical fighting, smoking weed

As crazy as it sounded, Fezco was kind of convinced that you were his guardian angel. Or that’s, how it seemed, at least.

Honestly, he never was very good at expressing himself, at putting all the words in the right order to say how he felt. Especially when it was something so nuanced and complicated, but something about you made him want to try. Like, really try. But for now, his own messy thoughts would have to do.

You were the first person he’d ever met who matched his energy, who really understood him. You knew him better than he even really knew himself, and you managed to fill in all of his gaps and cracks and crevices and make him feel so whole. And you were the first person he really, truly trusted, and the first to ever care about him, other than Grandma and Ashtray, even if you were too damn stubborn to ever admit it out loud. He knew, though. He knew that the (admittedly, probably far too many) nights you spent helping him get his shit together or heal his mind with a couple joints and a good conversation, the ones where you made sure to bring dinner for the three of you and check on your boys… They didn’t really mean nothing, did they?

And you never had to say it, but Fezco knew that you loved him, and you liked it that way. Unspoken, like an open secret that both of you just kind of accepted. And things were fine the way they were, a silent, but mutual, agreement.

But it was funny, y’know. You were known by so many people, and had he told any one of them how you were with him and Ash, they’d probably laugh in his face as if he were telling a joke. Never in a million years would someone believe you, Y/N Y/L/N, were capable of being so soft and caring like you were with him. He was sure they’d call him a liar before he even finished his sentence, laughing in disbelief at the thought of you being so gentle as to bring him dinner because you couldn’t much bare the thought of him not eating, for Christ’s sake.

Even Rue looked at you a little funny when she first realized how much you cared for him, but she was glad to see it. It was funny, he thought. But it wasn’t like he could really judge, either; He reminded himself that a lot of people would say the same of him.

And it wasn’t like people thought you were evil or anything, though, you just had a certain reputation to a lot of people. Cold, in a way, and not really one to be fucked with. Sort of a troublemaker, too. Someone always had some story to spin about how you beat the shit out of some guy one time or how you slammed someone’s head in a locker, but honestly? It kind of made you laugh. Most of it was some strange version of East Highland folklore at this point, and Fez knew that. When someone tried to tell him one of those stories, he couldn’t help but smirk, taking a sip of his drink or a hit off his blunt to hide it.

He couldn’t say he was big into all the spirituality shit, or even really knew that much about it, but it was sort of like you were the earth and he was the air, and the two of you couldn’t have worked together more perfectly. You were his own personal angel, sort of, in some weird way.

Outside his mind, his hands moved beneath him as he rolled a joint, fingers smoothing over the edges and folding the thin paper so neatly. He’d done this a million times, and it was obvious with the way he could do it without thinking about it. In, fold, lick, press, slide. You watched quietly and picked nervously at a thread on your jeans, watching him seal the paper and reach for something on the pavement beside you. You look up at him when the lighter flicks, watching as a small plume of smoke drifts from the cherry. He puffs softly, blue eyes fluttering shut as he exhales, making sure to blow it away from you. To him, there was no better way to end the day than sitting on these stupid old concrete stairs with you like this, and you couldn’t say you didn’t think the same.

“We still gotta close up, you know. Smoking doesn’t make the chores go away.” You laugh, your fingers brushing his as you take it from him. He smiles, opening his eyes to see the milky white smoke dancing around your head. It contrasted against the dark sky, and you looked like an angel, almost. He watches your halo drift away into the night before he speaks.

“No, but it makes it better. ‘Specially when you’re ‘round.”

He’s got a lazy smirk on his lips and you can’t help but laugh again as you take another puff, nearly coughing on the smoke, which stupidly makes both of you grin. Through all this, Fezco can’t look away. You’re just so damn pretty.

Lately, it seems like everything you do is just so… Dunno, so… Distracting, he thought. Completely and utterly distracting. He couldn’t get you out of his mind, even on the days he didn’t see you (especially the days he didn’t see you), and everything you did seemed to have some effect or another on him. You felt intoxicating, and it was weird because… Well, he hasn’t ever really felt that way before, and honestly, he wasn’t even really sure what it was. It felt so familiar, but so foreign all the same, and he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

The two of you take turns talking and taking draws until there’s nothing left of the joint but filter. Fezco’s leaned back against the cool wall and you lay against him, where the shoulder meets the chest. He’s soft and warm in the February wind, and his beard tickles the top of your head. You want nothing more than to stay in this moment with him, head on his chest, but you know it’s getting late.

“Hate to be a buzzkill but if you sweep, I’ll count out the money.” You say, looking up in his direction. He looks back at you through thick lashes. “And I’ll refill the chips if you do drinks.”

“I think you got a deal, mama.” He laughs softly, stretching his legs out. How he calls you ‘mama’ makes your heart beat a little faster, so you stand from your seat on the concrete instead of dwelling on it. You offer a hand to him, which makes him shoot you a sort of puzzled look. All you can do is laugh as he takes it, still pushing himself up off the ground, and walks you back around to the shop.

You make your way to the counter and jump up to sit, pushing his little stack of papers off to the side and opening the register. Money from the shop, money from his and Ash’s deals. It was all the same as you counted it, sorting out each bill neatly. Fives, tens, twenties, the dead president’s heads up and straight all distracted your mind as you counted away under your breath. Fez couldn’t help but look at you, and he thought you looked quite beautiful right now, even in the harsh, flickering fluorescents above.

And honestly? He’s not sure if he’s just a little too high or what, but he really, really wants to kiss you.

You seem to feel him staring, but you don’t mind. Instead, you look up to meet his gaze, which puts a shy little smile on his face. You wanted to be sarcastic, to make some joke about how he “should probably just take a picture,” but you can’t seem to get the words out. They get caught up in your throat, and you let them die there, and suddenly there’s butterflies in your stomach.

“Come here.” You command, your voice soft, almost nervous. He puts down whatever it is he was holding and begins to walk to where you’re sitting, keeping a slight distance between your bodies, thinking it was for the best while he was in whatever weird mood he was in currently.

And truth be told, you aren’t even sure what you’re doing until your hand reaches for his, fingers interlocking thoughtlessly. He shifts a little closer, and it’s only seconds before one of you leans in, your lips pressing together. He kisses you back without the thought of it even crossing his mind. It’s a little awkward, and not very graceful, but it feels kind of electric, somehow. His other hand comes to hold your waist, worried you might fall off the counter. It makes you gasp slightly, but he doesn’t take the chance to slip any tongue. A moment later, you pull away, confused.

“I’m sorry.” You shake your head, not meeting his gaze, not wanting to see his face, fearing he was upset over what you'd just done. “I don’t know what that was.”

“Well, uh, I think we just kissed.”

You really can’t help but laugh at his words, and you can feel the smile spreading across his lips without even seeing it. He always had a way of making you laugh when you needed it most, no matter how awful or weird the situation was.

“Yeah.” You look up, and he looks like he’s in some kind of daze. His eyes wrinkle as he smiles, baby blue eyes meeting yours, and it makes your heart beat a little faster. “Yeah, I think we did.”

“Can I be real?” He asks. You nod, mumbling a small ‘of course’. “I kinda wanna do it again.”

You nod, and he leans forward, your lips meeting again. This time is better than the last. It’s less clumsy. The two of you work in sync now, his hands still on your waist and yours finding it’s way to the back of his head, pressed into his hair. His beard scratches your cheeks but you can’t bring yourself to care, too lost in the feeling of his soft lips against yours.

Meanwhile, he’s not sure he has a full, coherent thought going through his mind. Your lips are so plush and your skin is so soft and he can feel your fingers stroking his hair now, your other hand holding his arm. It’s overwhelming in the very best way possible, and he doesn’t mind a bit.

It’s in that moment that Fezco realizes… That feeling, the familiar yet foreign one, the one he couldn’t quite label. How you were always clouding his mind, how you made him blush so easily, the butterflies in his belly whenever you laughed or touched his arm… He loves you.

He really, really loves you, and he loves you more than just as his best friend.

TAGLIST: @leah-bobeea @maudesfolklore @bigpoppajes

Add yourself here :)

[uswnt-owns-this-homo]

Let a Bitch Hit You- Julie Ertz x Reader

     AN:  Here’s my attempt at a protective JJ, hope I did it justice!

TW: Homophobia, mentions of drugs/alcohol, cursing of course, homophobic slurs and language

You take a deep breath as the ref blows the starting whistle, the Courage kicking the ball back to their defense, signalling the start of the game. You try to follow the ball as much as possible, taking care to stay in position and wait for opportunities and passes to come your way. You can’t help but to think of the circumstances as your teammate, and long term girlfriend, Julie Johnson, gets the ball, and passes it quickly, opening up space and helping the Red Star’s attack. 

      The significance of the game is not lost on you, your first one against your prior team. Jaelene Hinkle, one of the most openly homophobic people in the league, had pushed you towards your transfer, though you and Julie were already discussing a request at a later time. After her and Ashlyn’s epic twitter battle, Jaelene had lashed out slightly, demanding that you, as the “resident queer on the team’’, get dressed for games and practices in a different area, so that she “could change without being leered at”. 

      The rest of the team, minus your national teammates, had just let her go along with it, not defending you or telling her she was wrong. This, along with direct statements to you about your sexuality, including, but not limited to: constantly telling you you’re going to hell and sinning, pelting balls at you during practice, and, during team bonding events, conveniently forgetting to invite you, leaving you disconnected with the rest of the team, had led to the situation at hand.

      Your former teammates, bar the national team members, attack you mercilessly. They go for cheap moves, like holding your jersey during corner kicks, and performing late slide tackles, obviously targeting your notoriously weak ankles and knees. Throughout the game, Julie’s frown has become more prominent, her play more sharp, focused on getting the win over the people, or more accurately, the person, who contributed to her girlfriend's small fall down the rabbit hole.

       Instead of discussing the transfer, and the events behind it, with a professional, you had turned to alcohol, and over the counter medications, drinking booze and then taking benadryl, or cough syrup, and sleeping for days. You had kept up your facade of your usual happy, energized, rival to Sonnett in memes personality, up until you had moved in with Julie in Chicago. She had quickly noticed your actions, taking count of the vodka and medicine bottles, and had pushed you to see a therapist, resulting in your sobriety of now 4 months. 

      Hinkle makes the mistake of going in for a late slide tackle, clipping your already sore ankle. You turn to her and she sneers, winking at you. You slowly get up, rolling your eyes as the ref allows play to continue.

      Julie has been slightly more aggressive when facing Hinkle, and some people have noticed, mainly you, and of course the target herself, especially after a particularly hard run in was made for the ball.

“Hey, Johnson, how about you clean up your play? This is the third time you’ve shoved me, getting sloppy there, homo?”

      The look on your girlfriend’s face says it all, and all you can do is run to put a hand on her shoulder, trying to keep her from retaliating.

“Aw, look, dyke is trying to stop big bad Julie from starting something she can’t finish. How’s the cough syrup binge going, Y/N? Still sober, or have you fucked that up as well?”

      You just blankly stare at her, feeling old urges resurface, trying to stay in the present, as well as keep Julie from getting carded.

“You know, I think you transferred because you know I’m right, and you can’t face the fact that you sin everyday, and don’t like that your sickness is brought to light, isn’t that right, Y/N?”

      Julie shakes you off, stomping forward and shoving Hinkle, causing you to follow, holding her back slightly, your team, and the opposition coming together in a large huddle, Alyssa grabbing Julie and holding her back..

“Alyssa, please. No, Y/N, she can’t talk to you like that! I mean, the league has done jack shit to her for harassing you, or for poor sportsmanship, or any of the other numerous things she’s done. Jesus, you tried to kill yourself! And what does she get? Absolutely nothing!”

Jaelene seems to falter for a moment, before her face turns in a sneer.

“Poor Y/N, can’t take any criticism, what’d you do, try to get away from it?”

      Julie finally breaks out of your and Alyasa’s grip, lunging at Hinkle, landing a solid punch to her jaw. The ref comes running, putting her hands on both players. Julie is still attempting to reach Hinkle, and laughs at the red card she’s shown.

“Oh yeah, fucking let the one who’s caused severe emotional and mental harm to my girlfriend get off scott free!”

Coach calls her over and she rolls her eyes, giving you a quick kiss on the forehead, glaring at Hinkle when she fake gags. 

You’ve had enough, officially snapped, gone off the metaphorical rails of tolerance of douchbaggery.

“You know, you can insult me, make me want to cease living, but you have no right to be disgusted. Any god I know would be appalled at how you’ve treated my community, and I know you don’t go to heaven just on the merit of being a homophobic christian. Ash was right, you have no place on the national team… You wouldn’t fit,”

      You shove her backwards, taking your yellow card with a grin. Play resumes relatively quickly, and your whole team goes forward into the second half with a renewed passion, compensating for Julie’s red. You lose yourself in the game, giving it your absolute all, and laying yourself out on every possible play.  You manage to score 3 goals, one which could have been defended by Hinkle. 

      The whistle blows and your team rushes you, picking you up, hugging you, and cheering. You all head back to the locker room and you spot Julie, staring at her phone, a blank stare on her face. You sit beside her, putting your arm around her shoulders and pulling her into a hug.

“Thank you, so much. For defending me, for fighting for me, even though I really missed my favorite ball feeder,”

Julie cracks a smile and shrugs.

      You pull her in for a short kiss, trying to  convey all of your love for her. You all walk out of the locker room, bags and bus buddies in tow. Julie holds your hand as you walk to the bus, rubbing a thumb over it as you stare blankly ahead of you, thinking back on your whole experience with Jaelene. Julie wraps her arms around you as you both get onto the bus, finding your usual seat beside Alyssa, who smiles worriedly at you. You take a deep breath and look at Julie.

“I just, I thought transferring would give me peace, but she’s still there, the thoughts, they’re still there. Just. Why is it such a big deal to her? I’m just living my life, trying to be happy, and she constantly made me feel, hell, sometimes still makes me feel, worthless, and I know therapy helped, but still, sometimes, like tonight’s game, brings it all back,”

      Julie gets a look on her face, as does Uncle Naeher. They look at each other and nod slightly, brows furrowed.

“Come on Alyssa, Y/N, sit here, we’ll be back in a second,”

You curl up in the seat, listening to Julie talk to Alyssa’s seat mate, and one of your friends on the team, Sam Kerr.

“Look, me and Alyssa have to go do something, we’ll catch an Uber to our place afterwards, could you do me a huge solid, look after Y/N for me? Make sure she stays talking, doesn’t zone out too much?”

Sam nods and Julie sighs, turns to you, and kisses you on the forehead.

Okay, love, I’m gonna go, sort things out.  I’ll be back in a bit, before you go to bed, okay?”

You numbly nod, heart racing.

      She quickly turns to Sam, nods, and goes to get off the not yet started bus. Coach looks at her and Alyssa, and they talk for a few seconds before he waves them on, glancing back at you. Sam moves to sit beside you, and you curl up to her side, silently wishing it was Julie.

      You’ve made it back to the hotel, eyes red from your crying on the way back. You carry your bag to your room, Sam walking you to it and giving you a hug as you walk inside. You put your things down, taking care to organize it so you don’t have to deal with it later. You turn the coffee maker on, set it to hot water, and start to run it, putting a tea bag in and leaving it to brew while you shower. You get your sweats and long sleeve t-shirt, taking out your toiletries and turning the water on cold, hoping the chill will help pull you out of your funk. You hop in and sit under the water, shivering slightly, but unwilling to turn it warmer. 

      You must sit there for an hour, slowly numbing even more from the cold water. You vaguely hear the room’s door open, Julie setting down her bag and putting her keys on the desk.

“Y/N? Babe?”

      You want to turn your head, say something, go lay and curl up in your girlfriend’s arms, let her reassure you, but the motivation doesn’t come. So, you sit and numbly watch, shivering and lips turning blue, as Julie comes in the bathroom, looks to you, and immediately rushes into the shower, clothes on and forehead cut, eye black.

“I’m so sorry. I should’ve been here, stayed with you, I just. She did this to you, without really trying, I couldn’t just let that happen,”

      You just shrug and hug her, trying to get warm, regretting your tactic for pulling yourself out of your mind.

“Okay, we need to get you warm. I saw your tea, you can have that, and then we can lay down and watch that documentary you heard about from Rose?”

      You nod, watching her turn water to warm, and strip, leaving her soaked clothes on the bathroom floor. Julie slowly washes your hair, conditions it, and takes a cloth to your slowly warming body, every touch and prod gentle and full of love. She keeps you under the warm spray for a while, holding you and rocking slightly.

“Okay, now which one of my hoodies do you want? We have the Santa Clara U or the Red Stars one, and some sweats, and some fuzzy socks are in your near future,”

You smile.

“You wore the Red Stars one more recently, so that one,”

A small blush runs across her cheeks, her usual confident demeanour gone.

“I’ll see what I can do, charmer. Ready to get out, get bundled, and get cuddled?”

She goes about shutting off the water, looking down to nod at you, and then stands up, you still cradled to her chest. You have a moment of realization.

“If I ask nicely, will you avoid putting clothing on?”

She sputters and turns tomato red.

“I- what? No, clothes are going on so I can properly warm you up, no more sly passes! I’m trying to take care of you, short stuff,”

You glower, sigh, and wrap your arms around her neck, waiting for her to put you down.

“Okay, look, tonight may have gotten to me, just a bit, but even all wacked out, I know somethings wrong. What happened to your face, and where’s Uncle?”

She sighs and starts to towel you off.

“Fine, The Giant and I went to have a chat with Hinkle, and I had her record it. I simply started talking with Hinkle, trying to reason and help her to understand things a little better, and then she hit me, and I didn’t hit back, and then she hit me some more,so now we’re hoping that we can send this to the big people in charge and maybe she’ll get suspended or in trouble or something. Alyssa is back with Sammy trying to stay away from conflict for the rest of her life. She did tell me to tell you to come down tomorrow if you needed some tips for dealing with the whole situation. Honestly think it’s the most she’s spoken this season,”

      You hug her and wrap the towel around her shoulders before smacking her gently in the leg.

“No more inciting violence in the hopes that you fuck with people who have ‘wronged me’ or whatever it is you said that one time, got it? Also, you need ice, but I will say I love a girl with a black eye,”

      You walk off into the main part of the room, ruffling through Julie’s bag to find her sweatshirt, lifting it over your head with a triumphant croon.

“Aw yeah, the epic girlfriend hoodie, let’s go!”

      Julie chuckles and walks out, coming up behind you and grabbing her SCU hoodie, pulling it on and winking.

“So that next time you want a sweatshirt, you can have a freshly me scented one,”

      You roll your eyes and grab a pair of training shorts, pulling them on and grabbing your tea, laying back carefully on the bed.

“Okay, coral documentary, snuggles, and then sleep,”

      Julie nods and gets in bed, pulling you close and grabbing the laptop beside the bed and opening up Netflix.

“Sounds like a pretty amazing night to me, shorty, let’s watch us some ocean stuff,”

     Needless to say you’re crying by the end of the documentary. Julie jerks awake, her soft snoring abruptly ceasing.

“What? What happened, who hurt you, I’ll let em’ punch me, get their ass suuspeendedd,”

      You chuckle, still crying slightly.

“Nobody, babe, just, he loves coral! And it’s disappearing, and he’s sad and all emotional and now I’m all emotional!”

      You sniff a few times and shut the computer, quickly putting it on the bedside table.

“Please don’t let anyone hit you again, Juls, pretty please,”

      She sleepily grunts and mumbles.

“Man, sometimes you just let a bitch hit you, ya’ know. Gotta get the w somehow, cause I sure didn’t get it during the game,”

      You laugh and wrap her arms tighter around you, knowing it’s going to be a bit of a long road ahead, but certain that the whole situation will pan out, and that you have Julie by your side through all of it.

[e-of-west-glendia]

Happy birthday to the wonderful @imliterallyvirgilandlogan!! You are an absolutely amazing person and I love you to death.

(Apparently I’m incapable of writing fluff without angst so um enjoy this fluffy angsty mess. To be fair Sirius Black on Mother’s Day is basically a recipe for an inevitably angsty disaster.)

Something About Mother’s Day

(I can’t come up with creative titles)

Sirius sat on the edge of his bed watching Peter, James, and Remus finalize cards and wrap up gifts. It was Mother’s Day. His absolute least favorite day of the year.

Sirius had had bad experiences with Mother’s Day in the past. At the Black residence it was never a time of sweet celebration and kindness, it was always some dull party that was really just an excuse to showcase their wealth. Alternatively it was a meeting with all the Sacred 28 members. Sirius has found that those were the worst Mother’s Days. Sitting at a table, back straight, giving small, perfunctory nods to everyone he encountered and answering awkward questions about being in Gryffindor and producing heirs (he was 16 for god sake).

It had to be around noon when he finally decided that he should leave. There was no use in bringing everyone down with his feelings about this holiday.

Hopping off the bed, Sirius made his way to the door.

“Honestly, my mum is too nice for her own good. Last Mother’s Day she sent me a gift— Sirius where are you going?” James had stopped halfway through his sentence, glasses slipping down his nose as he peered over the top of them at his friend.

Sirius shrugged. “Nowhere in particular.”

Peter cocked his head to the side curiously, while James and Remus narrowed their eyes in suspicion.

“Sirius is something—“ but Sirius was gone before Remus had even finished his question.

Peter turned to the other two boys. “Do you think it’s because…” he started.

“Probably,” James and Remus said in unison.

~~~~~~~

Sirius found himself sitting by the lake. If he was being quite honest with himself he couldn’t even remember how he’d gotten out there in the first place. His mind had been swimming with images of that past winter.

Drunken screams and broken glass. Flashes of light of every color. And pain. Excruciating pain. The faint crack of broken bones— it had taken him a while to realize that they’d been his bones broken — and the sharp metallic scent of blood. Everything had been hazy after that. Regulus’ hands on him, silently cursing and muttering about something that Sirius had been too pain weary to try and listen to. Two flashes of green light— one that smelt sickly sweet and poisonous, death laced in every syllable. The other, light and warm and smelling slightly of ash and burnt wood. Then he passed out in the Potters living room to the sounds of James screaming for his parents.

A light tap on his shoulder almost made him jump. He looked behind him and almost jumped again when he saw who it was. He quickly schooled his features into something befitting the infamous Sirius Black — Marauder and mischief maker extraordinaire.

“Ms Evans, to what do I owe the pleasure?” He asked.

Lily rolled her eyes at him. “Shut up, Black.”

Sirius laughed. Since becoming a prefect Lily and Remus had begun to hang out more. Which meant that Sirius saw more of her than he had in previous years and it also meant that she seemed to hate him significantly less. By significantly less he meant he would say hello to her in the halls and she wouldn’t completely ignore him. Unless of course James was around. Then she’d just leave.

Sirius raised an eyebrow at her. “What’s up? This has to be the longest conversation we’ve had all year.” A grin lit up his face. “What, have I finally started to grow on you?”

Lily turned slightly red and scowled at him. “No.” She said firmly. Then, “I just saw you sitting outside alone and I thought I’d make sure you didn’t get eaten by the giant squid. Actually, on second thought, I wouldn’t mind if the giant squid ate you.”

Sirius laughed again. “Isaura wouldn’t hurt me. We’re best friends.”

Lily snorted. “I’m sure that’s exactly what she thought when she threw you out of the lake last summer.”

Sirius shrugged. “Our relationship might have its ups and downs but I promise you we’ll withstand the test of time.”

“You’re an idiot,” Lily sighed. Then she peered down at Sirius. Sirius got the odd sense that she was analyzing him with that piercing green gaze.

“Something’s wrong, isn’t it?” she asked. He’d been correct.

Out of instinct he said. “Nope. Everything’s all good.”

Lily didn’t buy it for a second. “Uh huh sure. You’re sitting outside, by yourself, skipping stones across the lake while staring forlornly at the horizon. Not to mention it’s fucking freezing outside and you’re not even wearing a jacket. Meanwhile I just came from the common room where your friends are being idiots as usual.”

Sirius winced. She had a point.

“You don’t hide your emotions nearly as well as you think,” Lily finished.

Sirius grumbled something about meddling redheads that made Lily smile.

Lily chewed her bottom lip for a second before sighing and plopping down next to Sirius. Sirius glanced at her in confusion.

“Not going to run away screaming this time, Evans?”

“Har har.”

It was another few seconds of silence before Lily turned to Sirius.

“I heard about what...happened...over winter break,” she said cautiously.

The small smile that had been creeping onto Sirius’ face died immediately.

“I suppose Snivellous told you then.”

Lily bit her lip, fighting a retort against the nickname.

“Doesn’t matter where I heard it from. I just— what I’m trying to say is...I get it.”

Sirius snapped his head to her so quickly he almost gave himself whiplash.

“You get it,” he asked, voice nothing shot of venomous. “Oh I’m sure you ‘get it’. Because everyone understands what it’s like to be—“ he stopped short at the silencing hand the girl held up.

Sometimes the power Lily Evans commanded over people amazed him.

“Easy, Black. That’s not what I meant.”

Sirius gave her a look that clearly said well then what did you mean?

Lily sighed again, it sounded sad this time. Sirius almost felt bad for snapping at her. Almost.

“What I meant was...I know what it’s like to not have the best relationship with family members. And my situation is definitely nothing on yours,” she said quickly when she heard Sirius’ scoff. “But I know what it’s like to be the hated one— the outcast. And it sucks. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone, least of all you.”

Sirius stared at her but Lily kept speaking. “You’re a good person, Sirius. Annoying? Yes. Arrogant? Totally. A bit self absorbed? Definitely. But you’re a good person. You care about your friends and they care about you. Nothing your bitch of a mother says or does will ever change that.”

Sirius snorted at that last part. “Thanks.”

“Anytime.”

Sirius was silent again, debating on whether or not he should ask Lily the question that was now swimming in his mind.

“Hey Lil—“

“My sister,” Lily cut him off. “You were going to ask who in my family it was, right? It’s my sister Petunia. She’s hated me since I got my letter.”

Sirius winced slightly. He definitely knew a thing or two about difficult sibling relationships.

He didn’t apologize though. She wouldn’t want to hear that. Instead he said, “Yikes.”

“Much yikes,” Lily agreed.

“I meant what I said, y’know. About your friends. They really love you, Sirius. I mean you and James are basically brothers — practically joined at the hip. You and Peter are always laughing about something. And Remus,” she paused for a moment, as if debating on what her next words were going to be. “Remus, especially. He cares.”

For the millionth time that morning Sirius gaped still Lily. “What do you mean especially Re—“

“Speak of the devils,” Lily said, interrupting him and climbing to her feet. “I think I’d best be off now.”

Sirius squinted into the distance. He could vaguely make out his three friends picking their way across the wet grass towards them.

“Well Black it’s been fun. I swear I’ll kill you if you let it slip we ‘hung out’,” Lily said, framing her words in air quotes. Despite her menacing tone she was smiling.

“I don’t doubt it,” Sirius laughed.

Lily sent him one last smile before quickly setting off across the grass.

She was halfway to the greenhouses when the other three arrived at Sirius’ side.

James, in typical James fashion called out, “Hey Evans! How about you come with me to Hogsmeade this weekend?”

Sirius snorted at James as he watched Lily flip him the finger and shout something that sounded like “In your dreams, Potter,” over her shoulder before she disappeared around a corner, red hair flying around her face.

“Trying to steal James’ girlfriend?” Peter teased.

“Yeah!” James said, rounding on him. “What was that about.”

Sirius barked out a laugh. “You wound me Jamie. You really think I’d steal the future Mrs Potter from you?”

James spluttered incoherently at him. “Besides,” Sirius continued. “I’m not really into girls that psychoanalyze me.”

Remus snorted. “Yeah, she does that.”

Sirius looked up at Remus, reveling in the way the early morning sun turned his brown hair gold. He couldn't help staring at him, but could you blame him? Remus Lupin was beautiful in just about every way you could be. Inside and out. His mind flashed to what Lily had said about Remus. She couldn’t know that he was in love with Remus...could she? And she certainly hadn’t meant...had she? No, he thought firmly. She definitely hadn’t meant that. The odds of Remus liking him back were about 1 in a million and Sirius had never been high on good luck.

It seemed as though James had just remembered how far off the straight spectrum Sirius Black was because he said, “Oh...right...yeah…”

Sirius laughed at him. James’ face suddenly turned serious. “Right. Back to what we’re here for,” He said. “It’s Mother’s Day and Mumis fully expecting a card from both of her sons.”

Sirius gave him a confused look. “What do you mean both...?”

“Oh please,” James scoffed. “You heard what Mum said to Walburga on the platform back in January.”

Sirius very clearly remembered. Euphemia had looked down right murderous when she’d said, “And if you ever touch my sons again, Walburga, I won’t hesitate to kill you.” Even his mother, the unshakable Walburga Black, had taken a step back. Sirius had no doubts that Euphemia would make good on her threat. He smiled to himself. She kinda reminded him of Lily.

“And anyways you’ve been a Potter since the moment I met you.”

“He’s right,” Remus said, nudging Sirius with his foot. “You were a Potter long before you were formally adopted by them.”

“Exactly,” James said, nodding at Remus. “Now hurry up and sign the damn card. There’s going to be hell to pay if she doesn’t get a gift from both of us.”

James extended a hand to Sirius, which he accepted and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet.

“Best get started on that card then,” he said.

The four of them headed back across the lawn. Remus leaned down close to Sirius, his hair tickling the side of his face.

“What’d Lily say,” he asked softly in his ear.

Sirius repressed a shudder, mentally chiding himself at his reaction. Just friends. Just friends, he thought to himself. He sent a glance in Remus direction. Curious green eyes met grey and Sirius sighed. Taking what Lily had said to heart would really just be wishful thinking.

“Nothing,” he said.

“Hmm,” Remus said, unconvinced, but he didn’t press it.

Sirius grinned at him.

Despite the answer that Sirius had given Remus, something definitely had changed between Lily and Sirius. And though neither of them would ever admit it at the time, from that day forth Lily Evans and Sirius Black were most definitely friends.

[our-dsmp-fictives]

Tallbo

TW discussion of injury, radiation, and abuse One of the two Tubbos in here is very tall. Too tall, in my(Tommy) opinion. Here he is.

Some "Lore" bits about Tall-bo. Tubbo is the son of Jschlatt. Yes, that Jschlatt. Son of a bitch, basically. When his horns (ram) started to grow in- around the time of Jschlatt's presidency, that bastard made him not just file them down, but TRIM them. After Jschlatt died, Tubbo continued to shave down his horns. He did not want anyone to know who his father was. When he was 12, Jschlatt took him on a business trip to a lab. In the lab, there had been rumors of someone creating a clone of the "Angel Of Death" (PhilZA). This trip was the big reveal. The curtains were pulled back and there, in a large glass container, was a blonde boy in a hospital gown. They called him "AOD 1.0". For hours, they talked about him, and how successful this attempt had been. Tubbo just couldn't stop thinking about how inhumane it was to keep someone in such a small area. So, less than a month later, he stole explosives from his Bastard of a Dad's supply and used it to break into the lab. He and AOD 1.0 fled the facility, but Security was hot on their tail. AOD 1.0 pushed Tubbo out of the way of another explosion, this one set off by a guard in an attempt to stop their escape. This was when Tubbo discovered that AOD 1.0 was radioactive, seeing as a burning blister in the shape of a hand had just formed on his cheek. It hurt like hell. He would even compare it to filing down his horns in pain level. In the end, he and AOD 1.0 still escaped. Tubbo hid him in his house for a week before Jschlatt found out. He kicked out the still pre-teen Tubbo along with his nameless radioactive buddy. After a while of wandering in search of another place to live, they finally stumbled upon a house in the middle of a snowy tundra. It looked so much more comfortable than the make-shift tents they had been sleeping in so far. So, they broke in! They just wanted the warmth, which is exactly what they told a very furious PhilZA and Technoblade who lived there. Due to Tubbo's quick-thinking and learned ability to talk his way out of anything, he convinced the two men to let him and AOD 1.0 stay. Or- At least he did until they asked the clone's name. Tubbo had not thought of a name. He had just been calling him "buddy" or "friend". What was his name? AOD 1.0 looked nervous, and just as Tubbo was about to make something up- "I don't have a name.. Nobody ever gave me one." Great. Just great. Now they were going to think they were freaks! Or- He thought they would. Instead, PhilZA snorted. "You're not the first nameless person I've met. You are, however, the strangest. You remind me a lot of someone I think I've seen before, but I can't put my finger on it..." Tubbo started to sweat. "Haha, I thought so too when I sa- found him! In- In the woods!" PhilZA gave him a questioning look, but didn't pry. Instead, he turned to AOD 1.0. "Well, mate. It's about time you get yourself a name, don'tcha think?" The clone nodded hesitantly. "Ah, I'm sure I still got that baby names book around here somewhere.. I highly doubt She took it with Her, She wouldn't have any use for it.." Tommy, they decided on. Tubbo thought it fit him. AO- Tommy looked happy with it. It wasn't long before PhilZA's son, Wilbur, came home from a hunting trip. He was much less accepting of the two strangers than the adults had been, especially when PhilZA mentioned that they would be living with them. Tubbo awkwardly attempted to explain why he and Tommy needed a place to stay until they could get back up on their feet, but Wilbur was not having it. He complained endlessly to PhilZA, even trying to rope Technoblade into his argument. He, of course, failed. Tubbo and Tommy were going to stay with them, Wilbur would just have to get used to it. Tommy grew on Wilbur. His bright smile and cheerful voice were the culprits of Wilbur's fondness. Even thought he tried to act like he still hated him, actions spoke louder than words. Eventually, Tommy and Tubbo moved out. Tubbo considered it a miracle that Tommy had maintained enough control over his radiation to keep the

three from finding out about it. They moved to a place full of lush trees and animals, where they met a team of 3. The Dream Team, they called themselves. Tommy thought it was stupid, but Tubbo quite liked it. This land was called the "Dream SMP" by them. It was their world. Tubbo could tell that his and Tommy's presence was unwelcome, but Tommy insisted they stay. Tubbo couldn't say no when he gave him puppy-dog eyes. While Tommy made a hobbit hole, he built a house! They still went on adventures every day, but they lived separately. Things were perfectly fine until.. Tommy found two music discs. Cat and Mellohi. He was so happy. They made a juke box, and a bench on the edge of a cliff. The music seemed to calm Tommy, more than Tubbo had ever seen. His skin became comfortable to touch, no longer risking burning him. He would even sleep there, listening to the music. Tubbo let him. He deserved to be happy! But.. Dream didn't think so. You see, Tommy was a bit of a trouble maker. Tubbo had taught him that- unintentionally or not. Dream stole his discs. The music that once helped him find peace was gone. Tommy wound up burning down Tubbo's house. Tubbo knew it was an accident, so instead he focused on calming him down, even if it left his house to turn to ash. He helped Tommy find them. They did! Then- Then Tommy pulled another prank. And another. It was all fairly harmless, in Tubbo's opinion. But Dream hated it. He took them, and hid them well. Tubbo was barely able to keep himself from getting burned this time. His house was yet again burnt to a crisp. They thought they had found them, but it was a decoy. Tommy's discs were nowhere to be found. Tubbo tried to bring him new ones, even if they were different sounds. He thought he had found the one when he played Chirp for him. Tommy had calmed down, at least a little. He then began to tell Tubbo about Chirp. "It sounds like.. An astronaut dancing through space. Its sad." Tubbo had sat down next to him, and listened. "Claira.. That's the astronauts name." Tommy started to cry. His acidic tears ate through the wood of the bench. Tubbo needed to get his discs back.

[emma-nation]

Without You - Bloodbound AU (Chapter 12) *For You Sequel*

Summary: Gaius is back. While coming up with a plan to take him down, the gang must deal with some new life-changing events.

Genre: Angst/Adventure/Romance

Rating: T - Warning for violence and language

Tag List: @begging-for-kamilah, @lulu-the-cat, @ilovekamilahsayeed, @zoe6111, @kennaxval (If you want to be tagged in future chapters/fics of this pairing let me know!)

Notes:

- English is my second language, please forgive me for any mistakes.

- Hope you enjoy it, your reviews and likes are always appreciated.

- My apologies for the delay. I’m not having much time to work on my fics.

Kamilah

Kamilah stood frozen, watching as Amy’s body fell limp on the ground. Her paralyzed eyes looking straight into hers, as her blood streamed across the room, in the direction of the magical seal Lysimachus created to trap Gaius.

In contact with her blood, the seal erupted in blue flames and he was no longer able to use his powers as Maker.

“Your stupid whore!” He shouted angrily at Priya. “You don’t even know what you’ve just done, do you?”

“Actually I do…” Priya smirked. “It’s the end of the line for you, Old Ass.”

“You could’ve used her blood! Even a dirty blood as yours would become the purest. How does it feel, huh? To know you lost the opportunity of becoming the most powerful Vampire living in this planet? Let me guess, he hid that from you.”

Priya stared at him in silence, conflicted. Kamilah knew perfectly what Gaius was doing, he knew Priya’s weaknesses and was using them to manipulate her.

She didn’t care. Only one thing was in her mind, Amy. Her Amy. She was dead in front of her. She took a few steps and kneeled right beside her.

“Amy…” she squeezed the girl’s hand.

Her soft and warm skin was now pale and cold. There was no pulse or any signs that she still had a single bit of life in her body. The heartbeats Kamilah loved so much to hear no longer existed. Inside of Amy’s chest was only silence. A silence she was very familiar with.

At distance, Priya and Lysimachus argued. She accused him of lying and omitting information to force her to join the plan.

“Kamilah!” Lysimachus looked at her and yelled. “What are you doing? Kill him, now!”

But she couldn’t move. It was like time had stopped around her and all she could see was Amy’s corpse lying in front of her. She looked down to her hands, they were completely covered by her fiancée’s blood. Her head started hurting again, forcing her into memories that she fought hard to forget…

—– Flashback —–

Venice, Italy -  1540

Kamilah stared at the small package she had just acquired. A silver ring, engraved with a rare diamond found in a tomb in Egypt recently. A small smile formed in the corners of her mouth.

She entered a small door that lead to a wooden staircase. She followed her way to a small studio, the one she had been living in the last eight months with Elena Fontana, a young artist she was sponsoring, and also her lover.

“Elena?” She called, not hearing a response. “I’m home ”

She looked around, spotting no signs the young woman was even there. She furrowed her brows confused. Being a newly Turned Vampire, Elena was insecure of leaving the house alone. Especially with the rumors of a skilled Hunter being around, mercilessly taking lives of all supernatural creatures that dared to cross his path.

Kamilah started having a bad feeling about it. An intuition that something had happened to Elena in her absence. Sometimes her bloodlust would be out of control and she’d accidentally hurt the mortals she was feeding from, what could attract them negative attention. Kamilah placed the ring inside a drawer and locked it with a key.

“It was too soon anyways,” she thought.

“K-Kamilah,” a female voice came from the bedroom, “what are you doing home so early? I-I thought you weren’t supposed to be here until dawn.”

Elena suddenly emerged in the living room.

“The meeting ended earlier than planned. Why do you look so nervous? What have you been up to while I was out?”

“My new Vampire senses, they did magic for my art! I finished a whole set of paintings in only a few hours! I’ve never been so inspired.”

She grabbed Kamilah’s hand and took her to the bedroom, where she examined her surroundings, observing five wonderful paintings.

“Oh my god. This is…” she took one the paintings in her hands, to examine it closer, “amazing. You’re finally going to achieve the recognition you deserve.”

“All thanks to you, amore mio.”

Elena embraced her from behind, placing a soft kiss on her neck. Though the windows were covered by heavy curtains, Kamilah was bothered by the rain that started falling outside.

“What’s wrong, Kamilah?” Elena asked.

“Nothing, just… the rain outside, the grey clouds… it’s giving me a bad feeling.”

“But you were just excited! Kamilah, you should start a career as a dramatic poet, you’ve got talent.”

She ignored Elena’s attempts to lighten her mood.

“Are you hungry?” She asked. “It has been almost two days since you last fed.

"I’m afraid to lose control again,” Elena’s expression darkened.

“You’ll never learn if you don’t practice enough. Like your paintings.”

She brushed off a strand of Elena’s hair that was falling over her face and caressed her exposed cheek.

“It’s not, my art is a gift. This is a curse.”

“It depends on how you see it.”

“True, knowing I’ll spend the rest of my life with you, that’s a gift.”

Kamilah kissed her forehead and the two of them went out into the night. They only had a couple of hours before the sunrise.

When they returned, Elena was upset. Once again she failed to tame her instincts. While Kamilah drank only a small amount of blood, she almost killed a man. They went straight to bed, where they fell asleep quickly. Elena didn’t want much physical contact at the moment, she wanted to be left alone, what Kamilah respected.

She woke up hours later in a hurry. As she opened her eyes, she could barely see anything with a distorted vision and a foggy head. Her heart was also racing abnormally… She only had time to dodge an attack, a stake pointed to her chest.

A male figure escaped through the open window before she could have any reaction. Kamilah quickly closed and covered it with the heavy curtains again. The sunlight affected Elena more than herself.

“Elena?” She turned around, looking for the young artist. But all she could find, were her ashes, spread over her side of the bed.

It couldn’t be. Elena. Her sweet Elena was dead.

—– End Of Flashback —–

Kamilah’s head was spinning, making her see Amy’s blood mixed with Elena’s ashes in her hands. A wave of darkness filled her soul and suddenly all the humanity she still had left was gone. Her instincts should be fully taking control of her body and turning her into a killer machine, but instead, she felt nothing, only pure emptiness.

“I failed to protect you… like I failed to protect her…”

“Kamilah!” Lysimachus was attempting to get her attention. For some reason, she couldn’t focus on his voice, everytime she did, memories of the day he was taken by the Romans started to erupt in her mind. She struggled against them.

“… failed to protect Lyimachus.”

The darkness inside was becoming unbearable. She grabbed one of her daggers, pointing it straight to her heart.

“What are you–?” He stopped. “Your psycho son of a bitch!”

The sound of someone being tackled to the ground and being repeatedly punched, finally caught some of her attention. She turned around, noticing her brother attacked Jameson. All she had time to see was his heart being removed, as well as his body turning into ashes.

“Kamilah, he was using his hypnotic tricks to mess with your head,” Lysimachus yelled. “Wake up, sister. Resist it!”

She observed Amy’s body again, then the puddle of blood by her side. She started having a strange sensation. A image started to form inside it, calling her, sinking her into it…

—– Flashback —–

Venice, Italy -  1540

Late night in a tavern, two men were chatting, in the most secluded table.

“King Gaius Augustine, I have the honor to announce your enemies will no longer bother your majesty.”

“Wolf Of Venice, you really do justice to your name,” Gaius stroked his cheek. “Who would say you could become such a loyal servant?”

Gaius delivered him the payment.

“But, My King, this is so much more than we arranged.”

“I know. There’s one last favor I need from you,” he handed him a piece of paper with an address.

“T-This is Kamilah Sayeed and her lover’s address.”

“Yes, and your killing them both.”

“She’s rumored to be one of the oldest Vampires around, making her highly powerful and fast.”

Gaius smirked and pushed a small vial in his direction.

“It won’t be a problem, once they drink this. It’s acts like a drug in our system, making us weak and stunned. Give it to a mortal of your trust, make sure to place it at the right place in the right time, when they go out hunting for a prey.”

—– End Of Flashback —–

When Kamilah returned to reality her eyes were burning red in rage. She dropped her dagger and turned her attention to Gaius.

“You ordered my death too… and you poisoned us! This is why I failed to protect her!”

“If you’re not My Queen, you won’t be anyone else’s,” Gaius spoke.

She grabbed the ceremonial stake Lysimachus found at Wright’s office, carved with ancient inscriptions. As it made contact with Amy’s blood, a blue flame erupted from it’s sharp tip.

“I. Am. Not. Your. Queen!“ she angered and lunged in his direction. "Not anymore.”

———-

Lysimachus

“You hid that from me, Hunter?” Priya questioned him. “You didn’t told me everything this mortal’s blood could do, so I wouldn’t have another choice but joining your plan!”

“Priya, I didn’t know it until recently and… would you even consider it? Take Amy’s life to obtain power, instead of killing him?”

“It’s easy for you to say. You’re not the weakest. You’re powerful, influent… The Council always underestimated me! They treat me like I’m still a filthy whore.”

“Stop! Can’t you see he’s playing games with your mind?”

“You’re exactly like–”

They both stopped, staring at the ground where Kamilah was kneeled near Amy’s body. Her eyes were wide and paralyzed in some sort of shock state.

“Kamilah!” Lysimachus yelled. “What are you doing? Kill him, now!”

She wouldn’t listen. A single tear streamed down her cheek.

“I failed to protect you… like I failed to protect her…” she started mumbling.

“Kamilah!”

“… failed to protect Lyimachus.”

“What the…”

The more he tried to get her attention and take her out of that state, more she’d go deeper into it. In an act of desperation and trauma, she grabbed one of her daggers and pointed to her chest. Gaius started to laugh hysterically.

“My Queen, so much for nothing… for you to be come frail and vulnerable because of a mortal.”

“Kamilah, darling,” Priya shouted. “It’s not time for reminisce on our personal tragedies. Go there and kill him, before he escapes. The Kamilah I know wouldn’t do it. She’s brave, tough, short-tempered…”

“The Kamilah I know wouldn’t do it,” Lysimachus thought. He knew that. He never expected this attitude coming from his twin sister. If she was strong enough to keep fighting by herself for five years after he was taken, how did she suddenly became so fragile? Then, he looked to a dark corner of the room, noticing they were not alone. Jameson was hiding behind a wooden column, doing some movements with his hands. He was using the hypnosis the was partially inside Kamilah’s brain to control her.

“What are you–?” He stopped. “Your psycho son of a bitch!”

Without thinking twice, he tackled him to the ground and started punching them repeatedly. What finally caught some of Kamilah’s attention. Wasting no more time, he shoved his hand inside Jameson’s chest, extracting his heart.

“I’m sorry, master. I failed…” he said, before vanishing into ashes.

“Kamilah, he was using his hypnotic tricks to mess with your head,” Lysimachus yelled. “Wake up, sister. Resist it!”

She looked to Amy’s blood again. Lysimachus approached, noticing Amy’s powers were showing her something… a vision from her past… something she never imagined. Kamilah returned to reality, in all her strength and power.

“You ordered my death too… and you poisoned us! This is why I failed to protect her!” Her eyes were blood-red in anger.

“If you’re not My Queen, you won’t be anyone else’s,” Gaius spoke.

“Show him who you are,“ Lysimachus smirked and threw something to his sister. The ceremonial stake he took from Wright’s office. The one that could kill Gaius or any other ancient vampires, if used correctly. When she dripped it in Amy’s blood, blue flames started burning in the tip.

“This is badass,” Priya grinned. “Do it, Kamilah. Take down his Old Ass for good!”

“I. Am. Not. Your. Queen!” Kamilah smirked and lunged into Gaius direction. She stopped, aware she couldn’t enter the seal. “Not anymore.”

Kamilah aimed at his heart, but before she could give the final blow, Gaius grabbed her wrist.

“You’re coming with me, My Queen.”

“Let me go,” she struggled, trying to free herself, her feet was just crossing the line between the circle and the outside. Though she was strong, Gaius was even stronger, she wouldn’t be able to escape his grip.

Lysimachus looked at Priya and winked.

“What?” She asked.

“Remember what I told you… before we enter here.”

In a flash, he threw himself at Gaius, restraining him by the arms.

“Kamilah, now. Stake him!”

His sister did as ordered. The stake teared through Gaius flesh, striking him exactly in the heart. The blue flames spread, consuming his entire body so intensely that it hurt their eyes.

“No,” he yelled. “Kamilah, you’ll r…”

When Lysimachus opened his eyes again, there was nothing but Gaius’ ashes inside the magical seal with him.

“It’s over,” he said. “We defeated him.”

“Brother,” Kamilah opened her eyes too. “But… you…”

“I couldn’t let him take you.”

The seal started to close, it was a matter of seconds before it consumed him too.

“How can I un-do it?” Kamilah asked. “There got to be a way!”

“You’ll need an element to counter the magical forces. It’s useless now, sister. We don’t have time…”

“I’m not losing you again.”

“That’s okay, sister,” he extended his hands, touching her for the last time. “I’m thankful for these months we had together.”

“Shit!” Priya shouted. “Think fast… an element to counter magical forces… something witches hate… of course!”

Lysimachus and Kamilah exchanged confused glances as she approached the circle and grabbed the dagger he gifted her, opening a gash on her palm. As her blood dripped on the seal, the flames settled and started fading…

“What do they hate more then Vampire’s blood? We’re cursed creatures. Undead beings…”

“There’s actually a functioning brain  inside her head,” Kamilah teased.

Noticing he was finally safe, Lysimachus went in their direction, hugging them both at the same time.

“You know that it could’ve gone seriously wrong and killed us all,” he told Priya.

“But it worked!”

“It seems like it.”

Kamilah went back to Amy’s side, taking her in her arms and healing the cut on her neck.

“How long is it going to take, after we do the blood transfusion?”

“Only a few hours,” Lysimachus tried to assure her, but inside he wasn’t completely secure. There were no guarantees the spell had actually worked.

———-

Amy

“Is this how being dead feels like?” That was Amy’s first thought before she could actually open her eyes. She felt afraid of what was waiting for her on the other side.

Everything was dark. Distantly, all she could hear were voices. Kamilah, Lysimachus, Gaius… they were on battle. A battle that would decide the fate of both humans and Vampires. She got up and started running in their direction, but she couldn’t. It was like she was trapped on an endless world of darkness.

“Kamilah,” she called, hoping her fiancée would be able to hear, but as expected, there was no response.

After a while the voices silenced and she was completely alone. She sat down and started crying. That place gave her chills.

“There you are,” she looked up, noticing Lysimachus’ witch friend was standing in front of her.

“A-Are you dead too?” She asked, fearing the spell had gone wrong.

“Technically, no. But since we’re linked I felt you were in trouble and created a portal to find you. Get up, it’s time to return to your body.”

“How do I return?”

“Focus on yourself, on your body. You should get pulled back instantly.”

Amy closed her eyes, thinking about herself. Images of her body, lying on her bed at Kamilah’s penthouse, started to form inside her brain. She started being pulled when another force stopped her.

“I-I can’t…” she cried. “Something is not letting me!”

“Try again,” the witch told. “You’re too anxious.”

She tried, over and over again, only to fail repeatedly.

“I don’t wanna die…”

“Weird. Stay here, I’ll be right back.”

Amy sighed, displeased at the fact she was alone again. She wondered if the witch would even be able to return for her rescue. She closed her eyes, attempting to come back one more time, when she felt someone approaching.

“Amy, I’ve been waiting for you,” a female voice echoed in the darkness.

“Huh?!” She looked around, not seeing anyone.

“You need me…” the voice spoke again, “and I need you.”

A stunningly beautiful figure appeared in front of her.

“W-Who are you?”

“You’re my fate, Amy. Now come, join me. Your soul will give me the power I need to live again.”

“Keaseth.”

“This is how some groups called me, but I’ve had other names in different eras, different places… you call me as you want, my sweet Amy.”

Her voice was intoxicating, poisoning… for an instant, Amy felt she was under a spell she couldn’t escape. She felt Keaseth’s soul calling for hers, drawing hers.

“No,” she resisted. “I can’t do this.”

“You did, Amy. At the time you agreed to sacrifice yourself for a purpose, you agreed to join me.”

“Never!”

Amy tried to run, but Keaseth appeared in front of her. It was like she was everywhere in the darkness, in every corned she attempted to run to.

“Help,” she screamed. “Somebody help me!”

“They can’t hear you, Amy. It’s only you and me now, we’ll become one.”

The darkness disappeared and Amy saw herself in the temple again, the same one where Mrs. Wright attempted to sacrifice her. Keaseth was waiting for her to open the sarcophagus and enter, so they could merge.

“Dammit! I don’t wanna do this,” Amy closed her eyes, but a force keep pushing her into that direction and nothing she did was able to stop it. The First Vampire had a supernatural force like no one she had even seen before.

When she opened her eyes again, she was standing in front of her sarcophagus. Her hand moving involuntarily to open it.

“No,” she tried to resist it, “it’s a nightmare. Only another nightmare…”

“Amy! Stop!” Lysimachus’ witch friend had returned. “What are you doing?”

“I don’t wanna do this, she’s forcing me,” Amy pointed to Keaseth, who was standing next to the sarcophagus, smiling.

“Oh my god! S-She’s real!”

“I don’t care, just make her stop. Please.”

“My children,” Keaseth shook her head, “your forces are nothing compared to mine. You could never defeat me.”

“But maybe,” the witch started casting a spell, “my ancestors can. The same who trapped you inside this place before!”

She opened a portal and a white light invaded the whole room. Amy couldn’t see anything, but she could hear thousands of voices. Voices of witches of all eras and generations, with one only mission, to banish Keaseth again.

“No,” she yelled. “Amy, you need to help me. Come merge with me, you were born for this!”

“I make my own destiny,“ Amy answered.

"There will be consequences. Be ready to face them.”

Whatever she had to face, Amy didn’t care. All she wished for was to live a normal life with Kamilah, where she would be able to work, travel the world and start a family someday.

“Permission granted,” a voice coming from the portal told her. “If that’s what you wish for, you shall now return to your body.”

Amy nodded with a small smile on her face, before closing her eyes and feel she was being pulled back to her body.

———-

Kamilah

Kamilah placed the earphones and played that file one more time. She closed her eyes, paying attention on the heartbeats. Heartbeats she could no longer find in Amy’s chest.

Eight hours had passed since they finished the ritual and she was showing no signals of coming back to life. Kamilah found a note, blinking on Amy’s cell phone screen, asking her to turn on her laptop.

When she did, her pain only got more intense. Amy made a video saying goodbye, telling her to promise she’d still be happy. How she was supposed to be happy without the one person that made her feel happiness?

“Hey, sister,” Lysimachus entered the room. “You should feed. It’s been a while…”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Of course you are, the last time you…”

“You said she was going to come back,” she interrupted. “You promised me!”

“It may take a while.”

“Who are you trying to fool? Amy’s dead. She isn’t showing any improvement!”

Her brother sighed and looked at the girl, who was lying on the bed.

“I’m gonna talk to my friend, she’ll explain me what’s going on.”

Kamilah stared at him in silence, before recomposing herself. It wasn’t his fault. In truth, she almost lost him too. If wasn’t for Priya, the one person she didn’t trust at all, the seal would’ve consumed him along with Gaius. He wrapped his arms around her in a protective manner.

“What happened during the battle?” He asked. “What that monster was forcing you to see?”

“Memories from my past,” Kamilah answered. “From when you were captured, from when the Wolf Of Venice killed my lover.”

“And then? What made you return to your senses?”

“Amy’s blood. It showed Gaius closing a deal with that Hunter. He wanted me dead too, and as he knew it was impossible to kill me naturally, he poisoned us, so we’d be asleep. I didn’t feed much from a man that night, as for Elena… she almost killed him. That’s why I woke up in time to save myself. I lament I couldn’t save her too, but…”

“But?” Her brother raised his eyebrows curious.

“If she had survived, I wouldn’t have met Amy. And after this vision, I feel better about it. I have the feeling she knows why I couldn’t save her and that she’s happy for me.”

“I’m sure she is,” Lysimachus kissed her forehead. “I’ll bring Amy back, no matter what, okay? I promised her she’d marry you and I promise you the same, sister. On Saturday, you’ll be the most beautiful bride this planet has ever seen.”

“Stop,” she rolled her eyes, punching him slightly in the arm. “You’re making me blush and I hate it.”

“Of course,” he dragged her to a mirror. “With a twin like me, everyone will know where you’ve got your good looks from.”

“Oh, shut up.”

“Okay, I’ll be right back…” he started leaving the room, suddenly Kamilah remembered one small detail.

“You’re forgetting something important.”

“What is it?”

“I’m older. You’ve got the good looks from me, little brother.”

He didn’t answer, making Kamilah smile in satisfaction. Back when they were children, Lysimachus always hated to be reminded she was born first.

“Five minutes is not even a difference!” He yelled from the corridor, making her let out a small laugh before she returned to Amy’s side.

———-

Lysimachus

"Ouch!” Priya complained as they entered the car. “Ouch, ouch… it hurts!”

“What’s wrong?” Lysimachus asked.

“My skin, it’s burning! My Daylight Ring isn’t working.”

“But why? What have you done? Did you break any of the rules?”

“Of course not!”

He quickly closed the windows, preventing the sunlight from entering the car.

“That little witch better have a good explanation,” Priya grunted as they parked the car in front the small building.

Lysimachus knocked at his friend’s door, obtaining no answer. He felt a shiver going down his spine. If something happened to her, it meant Amy’s life was also threatened. Using his skills, he picked the lock and rushed inside.

She was nowhere to be found. He only wasn’t able to check one room. The one she used for magic. He couldn’t forcefully open that door, he’d be violating the witches’ rules.

Lysimachus called her name once again.

“Just a minute,” she finally answered. “We’re in trouble here.”

“We?"

He sat on the living room to wait. Priya complaining all the time about her ring. He sighed, trying to not lose his patience. How could she be so selfish in a moment like this? When Amy’s life was in danger.

"Do you think I messed it up?” She asked. “Amy, I mean. Kamilah is going to kill me.”

“Of course not, you did as I told you.”

“But then, why my ring isn’t working? It’s obvious, I killed an innocent mortal.”

“Oh my god,” what she said made sense, what scared him even more.

About half an hour later, the female witch appeared in the living room.

“Sorry, it took longer than planned…” she panted, “but we did it. Amy is back to her body.”

Lysimachus sighed in relief.

"This is why I came to you. It’s been almost nine hours and she hadn’t returned yet.”

“Keaseth was trapping her. She wanted Amy’s soul to come back to life.”

“Really?!” His eyes widened in surprise. Though he was 2064 years old, so far all he had ever listened about the First Vampire were myths and legends.

“Yes, we had a hard time to banish her.”

“Do you think she will cause us trouble in the future?”

“I’m not sure, she’s determined but, Amy’s a tough one, she’ll know how to protect herself.”

“Enough with the First Vampire bullshit,” Priya whined. “I want to know why my ring isn’t working!”

“It’s simple,” the witch answered. “You violated one of the rules.”

“I didn’t, I only killed Amy because of the ritual, and because you assured she’d live again.”

“Hmmm…” the young female paused for a second, as if she was waiting for a response from her ancestors. “Basically, you insulted the witches. You violated a sacred magical seal. With your Vampire blood, what makes it ten times worse.”

“I did it to because someone went on a suicidal mission to kill Gaius. I saved Hunter’s life, this should be taken in consideration!”

“You still can have it back,” the witch assured. “All you have to do is to beg for the witches’ forgiveness.”

Priya rolled her eyes before starting yelling “I’m sorry” at random places of the room. Lysimachus controlled himself to not laugh.

“On your knees, to show you regret what you’ve done.”

Priya angrily followed the witch’s suggestion.

“Explain your reasons.”

“I only did it to save H… I mean, Lysimachus.”

“Because?”

“Because I ca… we’re friends. And Kamilah shouldn’t lose her fiancée and brother in the same day, right?”

Lysimachus couldn’t hold it anymore, he burst into laughs.

“It’s only a temporary suspension,” his friend whispered. “I’m only testing if she can be trusted. And torturing her a little bit.”

———-

Amy

Amy coughed as the air returned to her lungs. She still felt dizzy, making it hard for her to finally open her eyes.

“What you did was absolutely stupid, Amy. You knew you were going to die! You didn’t even consider how I was going to feel about it!”

“Good morning to you too, Kamilah,” she mumbled.

When she was finally able to see the female vampire, she was sitting by her side on the bed, with a scowl on her face, fighting hard to hide a smile.

“I thought you were dead.”

“But I’m not,” Amy sat down to hug her and she retributed, with all the strenght of a 2064 years old Vampire.

“Ouch! You’re gonna kill me for real…”

“You’re never doing this again.”

“I hope not, it wasn’t a very pleasant experience.”

Kamilah buried her face on her chest to hear her heartbeats. Amy stroked her hair, noticing how desperate she looked, for thinking she had lost her. After a quiet moment together, she sighed, ready to know about the battle against Gaius and tell Kamilah what happened.

“How was the battle?” Amy asked, still caressing Kamilah’s soft hair. “Was it hard to defeat him?”

“Not really,” she told, face still buried on her chest. “But I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Did he try anything with you?”

She didn’t answer. Amy didn’t push her. She knew when Kamilah felt comfortable enough she’d eventually tell her.

“I almost couldn’t make it, you know?” Amy changed the subject. “S-She was trapping me there. She wanted to use me to come back to life.”

“Who, Amy?” Kamilah faced her again. “Who are you talking about?”

“The First Vampire.”

Amy told her everything that happened while she was out of her body.

“They were able to contain her for a while, but something tells me she won’t be giving up.”

“We won’t let it happen,” Kamilah enlaced her fingers with hers. “And if she finds a manner… we’ll fight together.”

Amy gave her a small smile, before drawing her for a kiss.

“So, Kamilah Sayeed, there’s no escape now. We’re getting married.”

“I’m not going anywhere. Are you?”

“Not at all. Actually, I’m looking forward for that SPA day you promised me.”

“Hmmm I was thinking, we should extended our stay. Would you like go, right now?”

After reuniting with Lysimachus, Priya, Lily and Adrian, Amy said goodbye again, before entering Kamilah’s car.

“I can’t believe it,” Lily had teary eyes, “next time I see you, it’ll will be on your wedding day.”

“Yes, Lil and I’m sure you’ll be the hell of a bridesmaid!”

Next: Kamilah and Amy are getting married! Will they finally say ‘yes’? Stay Tuned!

[wclfwiife]

v; main / v; alexandria / v; the good of the people[s7] (TWD)

The Walking Dead - canon divergent as fuck. Ash is with Rick, married and have (or will have) 2 children of their own (Lydia and Brantley) along with Carl and Judith. Usually centered in Alexandria. Mother, wife, walker slayer, wolf. 

v; not just shelter (TWD)

The Prison. Everything post Lori’s death. The encounters with the Governor. and everything to follow. Growing closer to Rick and eventually becoming involved as a couple. Finding Sky after Woodbury falls. All events leading up to losing the prison. 

v; dead gone wild (L4D/2 + Zombieland) 

L4D(2) verse. Walkers are not just walkers - they’re fast, they’re sneaky, they’re huge, they’re gross..... different classifications and learning how to kill them. Living on the streets and surviving day to day. 

v; dark hunters r us / v; NOLA / v; supernatural (DH/SK + SPN) 

Spark is working with the Dark Hunters regularly - hunting daimons and patrolling at night with her hunter brethren. Age ranges from 15 and up. at 15 she’s still training to become a Hunter, and up she is one, leading the army when Acheron is away/busy. She’s nocturnal but still able to make time to take care of Sky. NOLA verse is the same except location. NOLA verse takes place in New Orleans instead of Texas. 

v; teen wolf (DH + SPN + misc)

Ash is a teenager full of angst and feels invincible. She is chaotic energy and loves to run. In every way. She ran away from home. She runs from relationships. She just shifts into wolf form and runs until she passes out. She’s a runner. this verse also coincides with dark hunters r us. Her father is a travelling FBI Agent and her mother is an alcoholic. She’s a Gemini and honestly, someone needs to calm this bitch down. She also loves to drive fast. 

v; scout (fandomless)

Ash left home at 16 and fell into a rough scene when the “CEO” of a less than reputable business takes her in as an intern, she climbs the boss’s ladder and becomes one of his prized possessions employees as she scouts for new talent and brings them into the business. She relies heavily on drugs to get her thought the day and especially when her boss pimps her out to new clients as a welcome gift.  --Eventually, the business goes down as police storm their building and everyone is arrested. Ash ends up taking a deal and undergoing rehab under the surveillance of her arresting officer until her court dates where she’ll have to testify against her boss and his closest friends/biggest customers. She doesn’t want to be a rat....but she wants to go to jail even less. 

v; fnaf 

Working at Freddy’s Pizzeria, Ash is a waitress who loves her job and loves the animatronics. She volunteers to do maintenance on the beloved characters (because let’s face it there’s really no budget to hire out) and she fixes them up when they’ve fallen in disrepair. Foxy is her favorite, being the underdog of the restaurant. He’s misunderstood and sometimes she’ll talk to him when she’s fixing him up. Her co-workers thinks she’s crazy but she believes they all have a personality. She stays late sometimes, but strange things happen at night... 

v; more than a band (lemonade mouth)

High school sucks - but forming a band with a group of her friends was pretty cool. Giving the students a voice where normally silenced by adults, by society, by peers... high school was hard and especially for a resident trouble maker like herself, but having a group of misfits that became a family through music helps a lot

v; internal medicine (Grey’s Anatomy)

From intern to resident, Ash begins her medical journey at Seattle Grace-Mercy West with her Uncle Derek and Aunt Meredith. She even falls for a certain resident along the way... 

[interventicn-blog]

ngl, i already had this typed up since yesterday bc i just wanted all my ideas out. at first, i had 3 different charas in mind, but then i thought why not combine all ideas into one? without further ado, here’s eleanor richards’ intro + her pinterest! note: i didn’t proofread, so if there’s info that doesn’t line up w/ dad being old money, mom being new money, etc. then my bad.

inspired by the tv show, dynasty (ngl i’ve been watching dynasty & rewatching degrassi lately so) and my love for anime/manga + video games.

‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒FAMILY. ‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒

eleanor is from both old and new money. 

from her dad’s side, the family generations became old money as they worked in banks, politics, and real estate with other wealthy families before her great grandpa decided to work on his own. he started off with real estate then ventured into hotels. her father, mark warner, currently runs the businesses as it was eventually inherited to him. her mother, penelope richards, grew in new money. they got into the fashion business and penelope runs her own clothing and bag line.

they soon fell in love and her grandparents, on both sides, basically pushed them to marry as they thought it was a good deal to have different rich families come into one. however, they eventually divorced. 

penelope became more greedy and showed her true colors. she was manipulative, using people, keeping shady secrets, etc. and more focused on power, trying to make the best deals, and money. her dad just wanted a nice, calm life with someone he loved and hardly recognized his wife anymore. now, her mom’s been married more than 3 times by now, which eleanor became used to.

her dad soon moved back to new york to be with his side of the family and still stays in contact with him. even decided to live with him for a few years for her middle school education before going back to mom. there, she learned money isn’t everything and to be grateful. even now, she stays on contact and visits during summers and sometimes christmas. as for the other men in her mom’s life, she hasn’t been close to them as she wanted to. she just saw no point when they would eventually leave anyway.

growing up, she became used to drama almost everyday and still wonders why she hasn’t changed her last name yet. that meant she was tired of the life her family was living. a reason why she chose to hardly be in the richards’ family business and wanted to work on her own life.

she also has a sister she used to be very close to when they were young, but her sister grew and became just like her mom, a selfish bitch. she would create schemes in school, be the most popular student, think about only herself, etc. eleanor couldn’t stand being with more people like mom and became distant.

‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒HER LIFE.‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒

to deal with anything her mom was doing and to get away from reality, she turned to anime, manga, cartoons and video games. she felt these things kept her sane in her wild family. her room is decorated with anime posters, shelves of manga, and watches anime almost everyday. she’ll also go to multiple cons every year and will cosplay once in a while.

another interest she took up was baking. specifically french pastries and sweets. it made her realize she wants to become a pâtissier and her goals are to be world-known and have her own bakery company someday. she started baking around the age of twelve when she was with her dad. he bought her baking books and supplies. since then, she worked on improving her skills and sharing desserts she made with others around the neighborhood to hear feedback.

although, that’s not the only hobby she decided on. when it came to video games, she would play in arcades and at home with console and handheld ones before going into pc games. one game she fell for was overwatch. she’d end up staying all night playing and getting her rank up. soon enough, she was able to be in a team of professional players.

being into two different hobbies, she became torn because of how much time either one took. she wanted to continue playing overwatch and being able to meet so many new people, but she also enjoyed baking and loved seeing how her sweets made others happy.

she was already in college for baking, but when overwatch appeared in her life, she felt, and still feels, conflicted.

more may be added as i continue to think because the family certainly has a lot of secrets.

‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒DISAPPEARANCES.‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒

she has mixed feelings about the disappearances of everybody else. she’s sad to not see her mom and the staff around the house anymore, not being able to talk to her dad, and not being in contact with the team. however, she feels oddly calm about the situation too. for some reason, she just isn’t freaking out entirely. sure, she finds it strange that everyone else is gone and wants to find out more about the situation, but she feels there’s really not much she can do, so why stress over it?

the reason she’s in kitchen help is because she’s already used to being in a kitchen for so long and feels that’s what her most useful skill is right now.

one thing she truly dislikes is having people sleeping in her home. she feels uncomfortable sharing the space with those she hardly knows and argued about it for a while before giving up. eleanor continues to feel uncomfortable, so she kept a few important pieces in her own room away from others.

‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒MISCELLANEOUS.‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒

traits

ardent, enthusiastic or passionate: she loves anime, manga, and video games so much, she has decorations of them covering her room.

candid, truthful and straightforward: she’ll tell it like it is and isn’t interested in sugar coating.

critical, expressing adverse or disapproving comments or judgments: she’ll give her opinion even though no one asked for it sometimes. she also tends to say things she doesn’t mean.

decisive, producing a definite answer: for the most part, eleanor knows what she wants and is able to make decision easily.

effervescent, vivacious and enthusiastic: she can be seen as a happy-go-lucky person.

impetuous, acting or done quickly and without thought or care: eleanor has her moments where she’ll have an idea and go into it right away without saying another word. especially during matches.

loquacious, tending to talk a great deal: when she talks about an interest, it’s as if she can’t shut her mouth.

obstinate, stubbornly refusing to change one's opinion or chosen course of action, despite attempts to persuade one to do so: if she’s being told something she doesn’t want to hear, she’ll argue about it and try to change the situation. (e.g. having people living in her home)

aesthetics

wearing a school uniform and running out the door with toast in her mouth because she’s late, watching anime in bed and in the dark, pastel pleated skirts, pastel zebra midliner pens, headphones around the neck, strawberry milk, shelves of manga, bedhead, figurines of magical girls, cute animal plushies, vanilla scented candles, colorful wigs, patterned washi tape, taro milk tea in one hand and a manga in the other, a bag full of anime merch from a convention, picking up graphic tees at hot topic to have a better look, placing an anime as completed on myanimelist

her style consists of mostly pink and pastel colors, but denim, anime/video game graphic tees, and a few black clothing items are added onto this.

her overwatch mains

dps: ashe, genji, widow maker.

tanks: wrecking ball, d.va

support: ana, brigitte, moira.

all-time mains: d.va, ashe, widowmaker.

her favorite manga includes jojo bizarre, one piece, fruits basket, and more. some of her favorite anime are my hero academia, fairy tail, sailor moon, puella magi madoka, tokyo mew mew.

she loves watching star vs the forces of evil and steven universe.

she loves studio ghibli movies, but would definitely rewatch your name and a silent voice.

the type of music she listens to are pop, k-pop, j-pop, and sometimes rock.

more hobbies

shopping: it makes her feel better and she just loves fashion.

eating: she’s such a foodie. if anyone brings her food, she’ll be the happiest girl in the world.

sleeping: even though she hardly sleeps, she still loves sleeping. she could doze off anywhere.

self-care: she’s very into hair care and skin care. she’ll watch youtube videos for days about it, has her own skincare routine, and everyday is a different hairstyle.

japanese: because of how much she’s into anime and manga and wants to visit japan someday, she planned on taking japanese classes. she also has several japanese language books

has three tattoos

this one on the side of her left wrist (same place as laurdiy’s)

this right thigh tattoo

this on the back of her right arm. 

she planned on getting a fourth for her 21st birthday, but can’t now.

she’s mostly a closeted lesbian. her mom has always been trying to set her up with boys, but she only pretends to be interested. eleanor wonders what her family will say and keeps her sexuality a secret because she’s afraid news will spread around and it’ll be heard from her family. she’s only told a handful about it, including her sister.

[arkus-rhapsode]

Fairy Tail 100 Years Quest Chapter 16

Well, this was a surprise. I can officially say that after reading thins, the Dragon Eaters are better final villain group than the Spriggans.

Our cover page is Laxus emitting Lighting. Cool.

So we open on the climax of the last chapter’s fight, with Wendy’s top burned off thanks to the intense flames.

Hi Lucy, would’ve been real great to have had your help!

Anyway, Lucy summons Gemini of all spirits to get Wendy clothing from the celestial spirit realm. I have to ask, why Gemini? You’re still in the virgo outfit, you’d think this be more her thing on account of Virgo being the one who originally gave up clothing.

Gonna agree with Carla here. What even is that outfit? Some gothic lolita thing, but it’s got these diamond patterns for the sole purpose of showing off her naval.

Oh and Gray is here too. Its sad that the guy who throughout the story was the most fashionable is still in his trunks.

Gray lands and gives his one liner, but Skullion with just a word tells Madmorl to stand up and he does.

So I’m gonna give credit here to Hiro, who I think realized last chapter that Natsu’s use of fire dragon king K.O-ing Madmorl in this fight when he had already shown Madmorl taking a fire dragon king fist like its nothing, seems to show Madmorl as being able to withstand it. Though they do imply that Madmorl is not in the condition to fight later in the chapter.

Now in my defense of my rant last week, I still stand by what I said about Madmorl’s high defense shouldn’t have taken any damage last fight, especially after watching his endure Natsu’s fire dragon king’s demolition fist. However, if we go by the theory that the armor dragon is a variation of metal like iron, then that means like iron, Madmorl’s armor it can be heated up and he is not fully in a metal form like Gajeel’s scales so its possible that Madmorl’s fleshy bits got burned regardless of his resistant armor.

We cut to Erza and Kyria and we see the ship melting and Erza has re-quipped into her Flame Empress armor. Not gonna lie, when I saw that, I got a nostalgia trip. Seriously, I was really happy to see the armor again, not only cause of time, but because Erza is finally using what her actual magic is, ARMOR!

However, in terms of clothing Kyria seems to be losing hers thanks to the heat. Seems like only the women’s clothing is being affected, while Skullion’s outfit is just doing peachy-keen. 

Hey umm, why didn’t you eat Natsu and Wendy yet? Kyria said she was keeping them alive to appease her pet Erza, but for a group that hunts dragons you think Skullion and Madmorl wouldn’t put up with that, and eat them regardless of what Kyria wanted. It is possible that they can only eat them in a certain place, as I keep going back to, Skullion mentioned this “dinner table” and I thought that be important.

So I hope that salamander your referring to is your attack, Erza, cause Natsu did jack-shit to effect your fight. It’s not like in this melting environment Kyria slipped and you capitalized on it. Maybe she’s referring to when Kyria leaves this battlefield and thinks the dragon slayers could finish the job? I’m pretty sure its not because Erza seemingly handled Kyria just fine.

Also here’s where I got to bust out the nitpicking, so the attack is fire based and that makes sense, since the flame empress armor comes with a sword that can use fire. But she’s not using that sword, she’s using Belserion the dragon slaying sword. Now we know Erza can mix and match weapons and armors as with her with Ajeel where she had the wind god armor, the wind god sword, and the sea empress sword. But the thing is, the wind god sword emitted wind because it was the wind god sword, but Belserion is not a fire sword yet it is emitting fire.

Now you could say its the armor, but its not. The armor is basically a separate entity as is can be alternated with different weapons. This means that Flame Empress armor still has the same ability as always, it resists fire. But instead of dual wielding her flame empress sword, she’s using her belserion. Why? Belserion is enchanted with the Sage Dragon Magic which doesn’t seem to have anything to do with fire.

The only thing I could think of is that maybe this means that sage dragon slaying magic is like enchantment and it basically allows you to enchant any other magic into it like Irene did with Deus Sema. That’s likely what the case was, but it’s still hideously broken. Seriously that sword is basically anything with that skill. Or maybe I’m over thinking this and the simple answer is, it looks cool.

Though we see Kyria live through this attack which I have to ask why does she need slaying magic? Cause non-slayers can hurt and almost kill slayers. I mean look at Tartaros, Torafuzar was beating Gajeel’s body into, Jiemma was blowing up Sting and Rogue. Back on Tenrou, Bluenote squashed Natsu. I mean, Dragon slayers aren’t really like dragons if you get what I’m saying. They can still be beaten by non dragon magic.

We cut to the top of the ship where we get a stare down. However, Skullion decides to start a chat about the Water God when Natsu says thy’ll handle it. Skullion wonders if they’ll kill him and says its no different than eating them.

With the loss of the Water dragon god’s power, there is no point in eating him and given their current standing Skullion actually acts smart and actually retreats. While also likely threatening the other dragon gods as they are dragon eaters.

So they leave saying they have more Dragon Eaters though Im not sure why everyone is so surprised. They have 4 dragon slayers at their guild and these guys were just 3 with none confirmed as the master. I guess they’re referring to power, but the only people who can’t keep up with the dragon eaters are Lucy, Happy, and Carla because they’re the weakest.

That said, the fact Kyria and Madmorl after taking these big shots are still moving, actually shows them as being a threat. Like I said this at the beginning but these guys are honestly better than the spriggans. Mainly cause they weren’t hyped as being on the level of the number 1 wizard saint, actually can withstand a confrontation with FT, and actually win a fight against them. It also helps that we can be gradually introduced to them instead of giving them a set number.

So Skullion infinity war teleports away leaving their ship.

Did everyone just have a brain fart? We just had Natsu produce a flame so hot that it burned off people in the near by vicinity’s clothing. What are ships usually made out of folks? Wood. And what did we see happen to the ship as an effect of Natsu’s fire form the last chapter, it melting. So what happens when wood burns? It turns to ash and charcoal!

I get the idea, but talk about poor use of a plot point here.

Also Gray says no maker magic is that precise, I’m guessing what he means is how it looks like wood without resembling ash at all. Because Gray and Lyon made a ship out of ice with their maker magic. Also no one has brought up the idea that maybe Skullion, who can teleport away in Ash, just ash teleported his ship? Guess the obvious questions aren’t being asked today.

If this was just supposed to be a joke by Erza I get that, but man this just feels so out of place.

We cut back to the Water Dragon’s temple where his usless assiatant is watching over him. And before anyone calls that mean, this bitch has contributed nothing to the plot, didn’t even raise a finger to protect the water god, and got mad at the people who actually tried to protect him. I guess you could say as his adoptive daughter, she was acting on her emotions. But she left and barely said a word or gave her prospective when the Water dragon god was explaining everything.

Anyway something has apparently arrive and we end with this image.

Does the water god have to choke a bitch? Yeah we know he isn’t going to harm her.

Post chapter follow up: You know, for all my nitpicking, I actually like this chapter. It makes the villains seem more competent, it tries to fix my issues with last chapter, and its honestly trying to make build up for villains which is something only Zeref really got.

My main negatives are mainly minor. Usually any character acting questionable or the ability of magic being inconsistent. But at this point, I will take my victories where I can get them. Madmorl wasn’t beaten by something we know he can survive. Good. Erza’s sword continues to not make sense, but god damn it was nice to actually see her use a goddamn armor this sequel.

Also shout out to the pacing, for balancing a good amount of action and plot. It did help it was trying to tie up loose ends. This is honestly the first time in a while that I’m actually interested in what’s actually happening in the quest part of the 100 years quest.

Final Verdict: 7/10

Villains Might not be deep, but they are competent

Good pacing

Got me excited for the dragon god plot

Questionable inconsistencies

[ramblinganthropologist]

Writober 12 - Comedy

Summary: Sometimes to get out of your head, you need to  get out of the house. Avery Hawke needs to get out of her head. Luckily, Moses Hawke has two tickets to the best show in Kirkwall. There’s nothing like a good play, especially when your friend wrote it using you as plot details.

---

Light was a bitch.

“Ugh, what the fuck?!”

“We're going to be late if you don't get up.”

Moses' deep voice did terrible, awful things to Avery's head as she sat up in bed, eyes mere slits against the onslaught of morning light. A certain someone had throw the curtain open, exposing the bright sunshine that often came after rain in Kirkwall. Maybe it was being extra bright to spite her – like her mother had gotten in touch with the weather gods.

That was just like Leandra. What a bitch.

Avery's head was pounding like a war drum as she tried to put the pieces together. “The only thing I care about being late for is breakfast, so unless you have some leave me alone.”

“Not my fault you drunk yourself into a stupor last night.” Her pants were thrown on the bed, landing on Chewy's massive back. “Now, hurry up and get dressed. It starts in a half hour and you look awful.”

She shot him a blank look as she groped for her pants. Again, he hadn't answered her as to what they were going to be late for and why pants were so crucial. They weren't her normal pants either under closer inspection – no blood stains, no patches.  

“Where are we going that I have to put legit pants on?”

Moses was already heading for the door, but he looked over his shoulder. “The play based on Hard in Hightown is debuting today. Varric got us tickets.”

Off went her pants so fast they were a blur.

It took Avery a few seconds to get changed  with a speed that even her friends at the Rose could have been proud for. There were then another few to run a brush through her tangled hair and set it right. The water she splashed on her face caused her to shudder, but it sharpened her senses dulled by sleep and a little too much alcohol. All she had left to do was put on her shoes, and she'd be ready to go.

“Shit, what are we waiting for? Let me up already!”

Moses allowed her to hop onto his shoulders after they had passed the door frame. Chewy, on the other hand, stayed in bed. No dogs at the theater. Besides, she seemed more than happy to sleep away the rest of her day. Might as well let her enjoy it – who knew when they would have fun?

“I believe we were waiting for you.” He wrinkled his nose and stopped by his room. “You still kinda stink like ale. Did you sleep in it?”

Avery blushed, but accepted his minor fixes before they left the house. “I'm gonna be honest, I have literally no memory of it.”

It had to be a lot, judging by how her head was pounding and how many empty bottles had been gathered in the trash when they left the house. Maybe she should've been embarrassed by that, but the persisting hangover was helping dull that feeling.

Hooray for hangovers. Wait...

---

“Now, are you going to talk?”

“Or what, you'll beat me up? Bring it on, tin can.”

Was this supposed to be a comedy, because Avery was fucking dying.

It was a good thing she and Moses had wound up with seats in the very back – their sound couldn't carry well there. Up in front, there were plenty of more serious people enraptured by the events unfolding on the stage before them.

To them, it was art. To the Hawkes, it was a Tuesday half a year ago.

“I can't believe he kept the fucking tin can line, I spat that out with a concussion!” Avery snickered into her hand as she leaned hard against Moses' side. “Fuck, at least I've got better tits in this one. Thank you, Varric.”

Moses wasn't showing it, but she could read him enough to know he was just as amused. “We make good henchmen.”

“Damn fucking straight we do!” Avery had to stifle another laugh as the man playing Guardsman Donnen prepared to attack. “Maker's balls, he's telegraphing it to when we actually did this fight! Even the real Cullen would see this one coming!”

True, stage fighting and actual brawling were two different concerns, but fuck if she cared; remember, hungover. The fighters on stage looked more like disorganized children from where she and her adopted brother sat, running commentary under their breath. For some reason, Varric hadn't found anyone to take the seats directly around them.

It was like he knew what magnanimous assholes they could be.

“The real Cullen can't dodge to save his life.” Moses let out a hiss of air that was definitely not a laugh as a fountain of 'blood' erupted on stage. “Though apparently his acting counterpart is quite the blood mage.”

Avery double over, shaking with mirth. “Fuck, I love that crazy dwarf bastard. Remind me to buy him a round next time we see him in the Hanged Man!”

Judging from how much blood was gushing from the man's proper armor, she might have to make that a double for imparting a new classic on the literary world. It was worth it for the shocked gasped down below, almost as painful sounding as it was to keep from out and out barking in laughter.

Oh, she loved the theater so much.

“Shh, shh, here comes Aveline to clean things up.” Moses waved his hand as Donnen advanced. “Not that she ever actually does that. Half the time she almost hits me with that damn shield of hers.”

Avery nodded, cheeks still puffed from the effort of holding in her mirth. “I keep telling her, shields are bullshit.”

She definitely let out a snicker when the guard used the side of his shield to slice at his opponent. “Damn it, Varric, I want royalties. That's my move!”

“It wouldn't even work with a guard's shield anyway. Didn't you lift yours off a dead Templar?”

“Hey, hey...  I looted it off a corpse of some Templar I killed.”

It was an important distinction to make; lift implied stealing it off a person, and Templars weren't really people alive or dead.

They continued their quiet commentary throughout the rest of the play, until the last bit of fake blood had dripped into the equally false streets of Lowtown. In front, crowds rose to violent applause as the actors bowed. Meanwhile, Avery and Moses slipped out the back. Again, it was like Varric had planned for it.

Avery was still laughing as she took her usual spot on her brother's shoulder. “Fuck, that was hilarious.”

“Especially the part where the guards do anything.” Moses walked at an easy pace – after all, wasn't like they were expecting to be jumped. Most people were smarter than that. “I almost hope he actually writes one about us.”

“Shit, they're going to go broke trying to find an actor to play you. Better just put the poor sod on stilts and be done with it.”

The laughter made her head hurt, but Avery didn't mind that much as they walked home under a clear sky. All things considered, she was in a great mood. It almost didn't diminish as they walked past the chantry, closed up for the night.

Moses didn't stop. “It's creepy at night.”

“Damn straight it is.” She shrugged. “I'll go in the morning, grab Leandra. Fuck if I know what to do with her. Should I shut her in the room or let her blow to the winds or what?”

The large man below her also shrugged. “Use the ashes to strengthen a sword to slay your enemies?”

“I like how you think, but I think I'd need bones for that and that's not exactly happening unless you know a really good necromancer.”

Knowing him, he probably did. It didn't matter though. Avery's head finally felt clear for the first time since they had happened upon Leandra down in that dark hole in the ground. The tension released in her shoulders as she patted Moses on the head.

“Thanks. I needed that.”

Her brother kept walking, home in sight. “Everyone needs a good blade to slay their enemies with. Pretty sure you said that before.”

“Yeah... I think I did. It's good advice I picked off a blacksmith I used to know.” Avery hopped to the ground once they were at the front door. It was easier to push it open than it had been in months; maybe someone had oiled the hinges.

She was glad to be home, especially since Orana was in for a treat when they found her. There was nothing like Hard in Hightown acted out by its principal actors, especially when they were both dramatic little shits who enjoyed a bit of light mockery.

Again, she definitely needed to buy Varric a round in the morning. It was only right to celebrate his newest comedy.

[castillo-adrian]

Franz Ferdinand | Closed.

Note: Important to the St. Clair VS Rutherford conflict. Featuring @lin-melissa @johnathanparsons @divyakoshal 

I.

Dissatisfied by Adrian’s performance at the end of the 6ème grade, Madame Vallereau, his English teacher, gave him Agatha Christie books for a summer reading. The most effective way to brush up his English skills, she thought, and wasn’t wrong.

‘Murder on the Links,’ one of the novels that Adrian read that summer, opened with an anecdote.

“A young writer, determined to make the commencement of his story forcible and original enough to catch and rivet the attention of the most blasé of editors, penned the following sentence: “‘Hell!’ said the Duchess.”

Sitting across the glossy hardwood table in Johnathan Parsons’ office, an entertained smile painted Adrian’s features, as he’d be reminded of that exact line upon witnessing the man slam his fist in an angry fashion.

“Hell!” said the boss, “They made a grave mistake. Attempting to dip their dirty toes in Westminster, of all places? Well, I’m going to cut them off one by one.”

The man’s wrath had been justified. The borough of Westminster was a Rutherford stronghold. The French attempting to buy a property with the intention to build a club and push their drug trade was... bold to say the least. Johnathan had eyes and ears in every nook and cranny of this part of the city (and pretty much the rest of it, too) and he’d been informed of the news long before the French would have enough time to seal the deal.

Johnathan’s solution was simple: chop up the poor fucker who agreed to sell his property and deliver his body parts to the doorstep of Marine Charif, the commandant of Camden, the one behind the scheme.

“I want the bitch to remember to stay in her fucking lane,” Johnathan growled.

“If I may propose an alternative,” Adrian spoke softly and leaned in towards the table.

Melissa gave him a curious look. It was enough for Adrian to continue.

“Let them –”

“What on Earth are you talking about, Castillo?” Johnathan cut him off, “you’re not feeling nostalgic, are you?”

“Johnathan,” Melissa intervened, “let him finish.”

Brushing off the annoying inclinations of Johnathan’s question, Adrian proceeded.

“Let them buy the property, invest their money, build the club, bring in the shipment, you know, the whole deal and then, right before the opening, burn it to the ashes. And we don’t kill the owner, we kill the commandant. Stronger message.”

“Damn, Castillo,” Johnathan sunk back into his leather chair and took a sip of his whiskey, “Not bad, in theory, but the French will be guarding the place like rabid dogs as soon as the sale goes through. You won’t be able to get in without opening a massive fire and we do not want to turn our turf into a battle zone. Especially Westminster.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Adrian’s smile hinted at something Machiavellian, “I’m sure we have people at the City Hall who’d be more than eager to give us the blueprints of the club, once submitted, and call an inspection. The French won’t bother moving drugs, just hide it somewhere inside the club. They’ll just have to clear out the building for a few hours. Enough time to plant the explosives.”

Johnathan and Melissa exchanged glances. After a few minutes of consideration, the boss spoke.

“Adrian’s plan does sound more sustainable in the long run, unless we’re killing every business owner who is considering to sell to the French,” Melissa raised an eyebrow, “I’d rather we drum up the French death toll, than the local.”

“This is a huge risk, however. If your stint doesn’t work, we’re going to have to open fire on our territory, which is not part of my plan. Are you sure you can pull this off?” Johnathan inquired.

“I am, yes,” Adrian nodded firmly.

“Remember, you will be the one to pay the price, if it doesn’t.”

Had he not been confident in his abilities, Adrian would’ve backed out right then and there. After all, what kind of fool with no sense of self-preservation would risk being at the receiving end of Johnathan Parsons’ fury?

II.

Adrian Castillo stood on top of the roof with a majestic content. The events had transpired the way he had planned, and they all led to this particular night. In a few short minutes, Marine Charif, the infamous commandant would join her friends and soldiers in a for French only, pre-celebration get-together, before the actual opening night.

How to shoot your target 500 yards away?

With math and physics. Neither an exceptionally skilled sniper, nor an excellent piece of machinery was enough to pull it off with success, and Adrian was one and held one. Luckily, he had enough basic STEM knowledge, too, the courtesy of his training as a GIGN sniper.

As soon as the bullet leaves the barrel, it’s influenced by two basic forces: gravity and drag. The fraction of a millisecond prior to the bullet exiting, it’s been under one single, fairly significant force: the pressure of the expanding gasses of the powder charge behind the bullet. As soon as that gas can escape the barrel, acceleration stops, and deceleration due to drag takes over, as does gravity once the bullet is no longer supported on all sides by the rifle barrel.

Even if he took gravity and drag into consideration, he had to account for velocity, trigonometry, wind direction, and optics. The rifle, set up hours beforehand, was sitting at the edge of the roof, with Adrian behind it.

“…Roger that. We’re in the position,” spoke Divya through comms, “waiting for your signal.”

The group of people led by Divya was partly made up with the newest recruits of Rutherford organisation, hand-picked solely for this mission. They were to mix with the club staff and lock down all the exits once Adrian had executed his kill. The other part though, the more experienced ones, were on a stand-by, to gun down any escapees with silenced pistols and dump their bodies on the French territory.

They’d planted the bombs two days prior, when the city hall demanded an inspection upon Rutherford orders and their loyalists, dressed up as the crew, hid explosives in ten different spots inside the club.

“Stand by,” responded Adrian to Divya. Introducing them to the basic military lingo was one of the first things Adrian had done during the training. Discipline and precision were key to pulling off the mission and he had no intention to leave any room for error.

Three minutes later, there was a sound of a car pulling up at the parking lot and clicking of boots on the concrete.

When the woman neared Adrian’s shooting range and he saw her face, there was a millisecond of hesitation.

He had studied her photographs whilst planning the attack, but now, seeing her in flash, it all came back to him - the reason why her name had sounded so damn familiar.

Marine Charif was introduced to the French Organisation ten years ago, by Laure. He could remember it all so vividly now: Laure walking into the room, with young Marine in tow, announcing to him, Julien and Évelyne that her cousin from Marseille had joined the St. Clair ranks.

But the millisecond was not enough to intervene with the kill.

Almost as soon as his .223 Remington, 69–80-grain bullets left the rifle and tore through Marine’s temple and into her skull, Adrian gave a command.

“Engage.”

The team had worked like a well-geared machine.

It all happened simultaneously.

Marine’s blood spattering all over the parking lot.

One of Divya’s man dragging her body out.

Rutherford loyalists locking down every possible exit from the building.

Divya pushing her thumb into the detonator.

The club lighting up the London skyline like the parade of fireworks.

The sound was deafening. The flames exploded in a mini-supernova, turning everyone and everything inside the club – the people, the expensive equipment, the furniture, the insane amounts of cocaine, into a gruesome pile of pieces of human flesh, wood, and metal, scattered like a jigsaw puzzle. And above all that, the grey powder of ash started to descend and add a monochromatic layer, like fallen snow on a forgotten city.

III.

The firefighter John Coyle shook his head in disbelief.

“This is clearly not a gas leak.”

“Don’t be a fucking hero, mate, and take the money. God knows you could use it,” his co-worker of seven years patted him on the back, “and so could I. Tara is starting school this year.”

“There are more than thirty people burnt to the crisp, man, thirty.”

“Listen, it’s already been written off as a gas leak, give it a rest. Besides,” he leaned in closer to whisper, “I heard they were some drug dealing French criminals, I say, London is better off.”

“God’s sakes, they were people.”

With those simple words, John Coyle had turned himself into a loose end. Unfortunately for him, Rutherfords didn’t leave those alive. He was no exception, as he’d soon find out, standing behind a gun pointed at him by one of Adrian’s people, and drawing his last breath before the trigger was pulled.

IV.

The reason why Adrian was holding a glass of scotch in his hand was to celebrate a successful job, not the fact that he had just sent more than three dozen people to meet their maker.

Johnathan and Melissa, though, they were glad no St. Clair loyalist would venture to make a move on Westminster for a long time.

“Marine was a commandant. Her assassination will trigger a chain of events,” Adrian pointed out the obvious.

“Exactly the point. And this? This was just an opening act to the big event,” Johnathan smirked and poured another glass. “Wait until you hear who your next target is. Let’s say the hotel launch will be even more memorable for the French than we’d initially planned.”

Adrian had already been wrapping up his preparations for the upcoming attack on Amir Dawar’s new hotel opening night, and the news of an unknown variable thrown into the equation drew all of his attention.

“A special guest from across the pond,” Melissa sat in a chair and crossed her leg.

IV.

The next day Marine Charif’s body would be found nailed to a metal plaque that read “The City of Westminster,” in a trash bin outside her Camden house.

And trash was exactly where dead rats belonged.

[raphaels-prism-crew]

Prism Characters - Full List

Patricia Sanders (Pat, Trish, Trisha) - 19 at beginning of series.  Aspiring Pangaean bard.  College student.  Long, red hair, blue eyes.  Full of hope until a certain asshole (Vlad, see below) shows up and by a certain series of events permanently damages her left hand.  After a while she realizes he’s cool (most of the time) but there’s still issues.

Leland Sanders (Lee) - Pat’s older brother (26 y/o).  One of 3 people who call her “Trish/Trisha”.  She would call him an asshole.  She wouldn’t be wrong.  Matching hair and eyes, easy to tell they’re related.  Has a dragon brand on his left arm, a bond to the Golden Crown. In a complicated relationship with Lindsey.

Lindsey Praett (Liz) - Faerie con artist, wanted by a lot of people - not least of all the Golden Crown.  Brunette hair worn in a bob, blue eyes. Because of faerie biology she ages twice as fast as a human, so she’s 14 with the body and mind of a 28-year-old (feel free to ask me about the Seelie! I’d love to talk about my worldbuilding!). In a complicated relationship with Leland.

Eva Renfield-Blake (Eva Blake, Eva Stockton) - Helsing (vampire hunter) bloodline, raised by vampires, mostly Todd.  Married to Ren Blake, mother of triplet boys with a fourth on the way.  25 at beginning of the series, at the University with the intention of becoming a social services equivalent (that bit of worldbuilding is still under construction). Blonde hair worn in a wedge, green eyes, outgoing and headstrong.  Friendly personality.  Pat’s roommate at college.

Ren Blake (Renfield) - Eva’s husband, one of the few Renfields to have actually escaped from Dracula.  (for more Renfield information feel free to ask me, it’s a bit of building I’m really happy with).  Brown hair, brown eyes, quiet demeanor. Stays at home with the triplets while Eva finishes school; plans to be a stay-at-home dad when she’s finished, even though they haven’t quite decided yet.  

Leanne Sterling (Ash, Detective Sterling) - 22-year-old police commander in the New Pangaean Capital.  She’s clever, shrewd, and an excellent actress.  One of the few people who can meet Erik Dracula head-on in a battle of wits.  In “a simple relationship” with Doc.  Hair is somewhere between ash-blonde and mousy brown, long but usually worn in an updo so it’s out of the way; fair complexion; delicate features; grey eyes.  Can and will kick your ass.  You will thank her when she’s done. Best in her field and up for promotion soon, likely to be chosen as Head of New Pangaean Intelligence after completing officer’s training at the University.  Only competition is Luc.

Draeven Rafel Agon (Doc) - draconic veterinarian, laid-back personality.  Loves his job.  Dark hair, dark eyes.  Been friends with Ash since childhood, now in “a simple relationship” with her.

Marcus Benipe - 21-year-old Bouda (like a hyena werewolf, but it’s completely voluntary, transformation is complete, and it can be “cured”) prince with an attitude.  Dark hair, dark complexion, dark eyes.  Excellent warrior, smart but comes off as a class clown. Can’t seem to take anything seriously, least of all himself.  But is extremely loyal and a trusted friend of the Princes, especially Charles.

Lucian Bubioscandia (Luc) - 22-year-old military intelligence officer. Half-Fae. Calm, collected, serious.  A double-agent (triple-agent?) against the Golden Crown.  Very close to Prince Henry. Grey hair, green eyes.  Big grey wings.  Seems compliant most of the time but often out of loyalty to an individual rather than a cause.  Can be stubborn.  Is very smart.  Has done his job so well that he is one of the top choices for Head of New Pangaean Intelligence, his only real competition being Ash.

Heather Titian - Faerie of an influential (and highly criminal) family trying to escape that life, unlike her adopted sister, Abathy.  Fair complexion, hair colored light purple like her natural eye color.  Really just wants a simple life but the way events are going it’s unlikely.  Looks and acts 22-ish but is around 11 (like Lindsey and all faeries she ages twice as fast as humans).

Charles Werner - Second Prince of the New Pangaean Empire, and a complete dork.  Dark brunet hair and hazel eyes.  Is 20 at the beginning of the series but acts younger.  Not exactly leader material, nor does he want to be.  His brother is the heir, not him, he’s just a guy who happens to be a prince.  Second of three people to call Pat “Trish/Trisha”.

Henry Werner - Crown Prince of the New Pangaean Empire, anticipated heir to the throne.  Fair hair, brown eyes.  Is 25 at the beginning of the series but acts older.  Has most good leadership abilities and is very familiar with the cultures under the Empire’s banner and a few outside it.  Well-educated, well-liked.  A good kid really.

Ninko - daughter of Lord Tenko of the Kitsune.  Four-tails, most likely heir of the nine-tails title (feel free to ask about kitsunes, another proud monument of worldbuilding).  Another skilled warrior with proud heritage, but is also a talented healer and fast learner.  Typically kitsune red hair and dark eyes.

Yako - two-tails, one of the few kitsune with black hair.  He’s a bit of a self-made outcast, he prefers his own company or that of the Kappa outside the village to that of other Kitsune.  He doesn’t know much about Southern culture but is more than willing to learn.

Todderick Howards (Todd, Howards, Millennium) - Unseelie who’s put himself into a neutral position, not an easy thing to do but considering he’s one of the oldest vampires alive (second only to the Golden Crowns) there aren’t many who are willing to mess with him.  After the death of his maker, Sarge Garrett, he adopted Eva Stockton.  He looks to be in his 20s - maybe early 30s - with black hair and green eyes.  He’s also very tall, more than six feet.

Vlad Dracula (Drake) - Younger Golden Crown Brother and apparent villain until you get to know him.  He’s the scary one: in your face, fangs bared, apparently a sadistic asshole.  But in reality? He’s a big softie.  He gets easily attached to people.  He admires Ash Sterling and would consider himself friends with Pat (“Trish/Trisha”), though whether that feeling is mutual varies between points in the story.  Also tall, dark hair and dark eyes that, like all Unseelies’, reflect red in the light.  

Erik Dracula - Older Golden Crown Brother, and at first glance, the tame one. Seems introverted, quiet, polite.  But he’s the manipulative one, the brains, the leader.  He lacks empathy.  His only loyalty lies with family: his brother, his wife, and his son.

Abathy Titian-Dracula (Abby) - Faerie changeling (human adopted by the Seelie and imbued with magic), adopted sister to Heather and wife of Erik.  To put it crudely, a crazy bitch. She’s sadistic, strong, and smart, with a few glosses of charm if she needs them. She loves her husband, but the only person she would be willing to sacrifice herself completely for is her young son, Agravein.  Seelie magic and proximity to Unseelie has made her aging a bit weird but biologically she’s in her early 30s.

Agravein Dracula (Aggie) - 1-year-old son of Erik and Abathy, making him half-Unseelie, half-human, with Seelie attributes.  There isn’t much to say about him in Prism as he’s a baby through most of the main series but he’ll be the star player in the sequel series.

That’s it for now! It’s a lot but there are other characters who might be mentioned - they’re either minor or dead.  Depends on the character.  

[cityandking]

Dragonbone, Bronto Hide and Royale Sea Silk for Lira, Vesper, & Winry!

thanks dear!! // dragon age oc meme 

Dragonbone: What will those who fear your character have to say about them, and to whom will they express their opinions? 

LIRA — cold, unfeeling, brutal; emotionless, sociopath; they say she didn’t even flinch when she executed teyrn loghain; they say she murdered rendon howe in his own home for what he did; maker keep warden cousland’s eyes away from you. it’s mostly hearsay and hushed whispering. lira does her best to keep away from the spotlight these days––a warden cares not for such things, after all––but the rumors follow her, and she doesn’t bother to contradict them. there is a great deal of awe mixed in with the fear, and depending on where you are one outweighs the other. fereldens are proud of her; the common folk have their share of stories about how the warden has saved them. the nobility have the best grasp on the truth, and are also the most divided; those who backed the mac tirs are more given to bitching, and those who support the theirin bloodline have a tendency to sing her praises. still, the cousland name is a weighty one, and even without lands or titles of her own she carries a great deal of political clout, and so few are willing to outright voice their grievances. most who have opinions to share do it behind closed doors.

WINRY — spoiled naive brat doesn’t know a thing about the real world; lives in a fairytale; too much power too much freedom; magic exists to serve man. she has her fair share of opponents, especially outside Ferelden. sure the dog lords are proud of their pet warden, their hero, but the rest of thedas has plenty of those who distrust the warden commander on basis of her magic alone. still, few say it outright. she’s very popular, warden amell, and her defenders are fierce and everywhere.

VESPER — heretic. that’s the biggest one; she’s no fan of the chantry and it is perhaps the only opinion she’s clear about. libertarian mages call her turncoat and traitor and templar lover and playing at politics; loyalists call her rabble-rouser and part of the problem. laypeople and templars insist magic was made to serve man and a mage at the head of thedas’ most powerful organization will spark another conclave disaster. in the early days it was everywhere, whispers and comments and shouts dogging the inquisition’s growth. as the inquisition proved it could do what it claimed to—as vesper stepped up and proved her determination and skill and care and levelheadedness and all that jazz, as the people came to, if not love at least admire her—the fearmongering died away, and now most of that is shared in private, along with the ungracious admittance that yes, the inquisition and its inquisitor have done a great deal of good for thedas, but they had best watch they not grow too big for their britches.

Bronto Hide: What is the single stupidest, most bullheaded, “milord no; MILORD YES” thing your character had ever done up till now? 

LIRA — maybe this is a cop out but it’s definitely leaving to cure the calling all on her own. most of the time she’s bullheaded but in a duty-driven way, but that choice was drop-everything-and-vanish-into-the-deserts level stupid. if it weren’t for the correspondence she kept with alistair (and intermittently leliana, and even more intermittently morrigan and zevran) no one would know if she was alive. she took absolutely no one’s advice on that affair because she doesn’t give a fuck.

WINRY — winry exists in a state of “no messere YES MESSERE” so this is. really difficult. telling her not to do something/she can’t do something/it’s inadvisable to do something usually just encourages her to do said thing. you can’t broker peace between the dalish and the werewolves? watch her. you can’t solve orzammar’s succession crisis? bullshit. the temple of sacred ashes doesn’t exist? whatever. don’t bang the gong and fight the dragon? oh she’ll bang that gong alright. (that one… that one might actually take the cake, tbh.) honestly the circle is lucky she wasn’t particularly studious, else she might have tried some seriously fucked up magic just cause she could. (all those weird side quests messing around with the fabric of the universe in DAO? those were made for her.)

VESPER — vesper really isn’t the type to go in for bullhead decisions; she’s very careful about weighing the pros and cons of her choices. anything she did of the sort was probably in the name of helping someone—walking into a fight, walking out of something she was ordered to stick out, that sort of thing. leaving the circle comes close, but I think there was too much intent and necessity there for it to count as stupid or bullheaded. going after solas maybe

Royale Sea Silk: What are the three strongest, most honest, most flattering adjectives one can use to physically describe your character?

LIRA — compact, powerful, agile

WINRY — honeyed, hale, curvy

VESPER — willowy, graceful, lean

[super-lemon-sama]

(omg I've had this in my sta.sh for a super long time, as you might be able to tell by the style)

1) Nick is a Porcelain beast. 

Though he is made out of a living crystal similar to porcelain, when touched his shell feels like flesh; because the top layer of crystal is very very fine and flexible while the core of the crystal is harder.However, he can still become cracked, and even lose limbs. Luckily since he's made out of a living crystal his cracks and lost limbs heal and regenerate. The larger the injury the longer it takes to heal.

His alibi is that he's in his schools football team, and often has casts or slings, or has to stay at home.He's not the most talkative guy but he's not quiet either. he's very sweet and has a kind and even humorous demeanor. He's friends with most of the school, and people often go to him if they have troubles or just need to talk.

He's close friends with Saiko, they used to be closer, even dated for a while. but Saiko was just to reckless and never took anything seriously, so Nick broke up with him.

He's now dating Ashe, which he's gotten criticism on, since he's super popular and she's the creepy loner transfer student.

2) Saiko is a Franken Kind

He's also a huge trouble maker. ;)  His creator/resurrector is unknown (or at least un-investigated) but Saiko often mentions him fondly. Franken kind are different from most Chire because Franken Kind are one of the few Chire who used to be human. As well as there are many different sub types of Franken Kind. To become a franken Kind you first have to die. (Duh?) then some one who is skilled in either light or dark magic has to resurrect and or recreate you.  Saiko was recreated and THEN resurrected with light magic, which makes him a rare Franken Kind since recreating is the hardest way to make a Franken kind and then to resurrect them afterwards is nearly impossible.(if the body goes through to much trauma during the recreation the soul will not return.)

He can remove his body parts but if he gets injured he heals VERY slowly.He actually has two pairs of functional wings which as far as anyone else can tell is unheard of for Franken Kind Saiko is actually bisexual but he mostly just likes women (now).(He thinks he's such a ladies man)He's still caught up on Nick TBH. He even still flirts with him, but doesn't do it as much now that Nick and Ashe are dating. He wouldn't want to make Ashe feel bad.

Plus he's kinda a thing with Tocco????

They're rivals, but like each other????

It's complicated.He is a jokester and likes to be a goof.Even so he's very friendly and will always stand up for his friends, even though he constantly gets his ass kicked because of it.

3) Tocco is a bitch Pixie Cyclops.

Pixie Cyclops aren't necessarily rare, but they usually don't leave their reserved communities, so you wont see one very often.

She's moody and grumpy because she's always stressed out and easily annoyed. Plus it's harder for her and all other cyclops's to go out in public, due to how much magic is required to disguise themselves. Tocco is friendly enough if she kinda knows you already, but she has a short temper can be really sassy. especially to strangers.

she wants to throttle Saiko!!! but... also.... kiss his dumb face.... hhhhhhhhh

Calling her short wont really bother her. she'll just look at you like "yeah??? no shit Sherlock."

but if you try to do stuff for her or treat her like a child, she'll flip.

4) Ashe is one of my favorites. She is technically a siren but was exiled for both her mutation and attitude, so now She doesn't really have a clan, and never really fit into a chire type in the first place. 

Her friends of coarse except her as is. ^^

I actually made a comic (a long time ago) explaining some of her "powers". Check it out-

rogue-of-rain.deviantart.com/a…

she says "I also die a lot", but she means the exact opposite.She can sustain any kind of injury without fatality. This cooped with the fact that she has bright green acidic blood and eyes, lilac skin, and the inability to disguise herself, she obviously has had to move around a lot.She may seem unfriendly and very apathetic but really she just doesn't want to be noticed. People who know her better know that she just doesn't show her affection like normal. If she tells you "yeah you're pretty cool." That's a huge show of affection. XDNick is the first guy she has ever really liked so she doesn't really know how to act towards him. They both kind of know that they like each other though, so it's cool.(also bc Nick is super tall and he thinks she's super cute and short, he likes to lean down to hug her and she's just quietly allows it to happen. UvU)

She's a little jealous and doesn't really like it when people touch Nick too much. (besides Saiko, bc he's a sad thot) possibly even a little yandere (i cant help it, i love the killer love sickness)

surprisingly she speaks in puns, she's like the pun master. they;re really quiet and usually horrible. is the oldest sister of over 200 siblings and is hated by most all of them, besides vivi. (and possibly "the twins" im not sure if im going to make them or not though.)

The reason she cant us magic to disguise herself is because magic has to be specifically made to a specific chire type to work, since she’s a mutant, the magic wont align to her.

5) Vivi is a Siren She expels a gas from her mouth that will put people into a hypnotic state while it slowly liquidizes their guts :Y (The gas is attracted to any orifices and wetness; so the eyes, nose, mouth, and even ears are the prime areas of entry.) In more concentrated circumstances the gas can even burn through the pores of your skin. The gas when inhaled will collect in the lungs and quickly turn into a liquid similar to stomach acid. As all sirens do, the gas is released majorly from singing, the singing will catch the interest of humans and even animals and the gas will bring them in, then *ding,ding* dinner time! Vivi LOVES screamo and any other kind of dark and edgy music, the angrier or more explicit the better. her mouth is kind of fused together in multiple places due to the acidic gases. (most sirens don't usually have such a severe case, but Vivi has especially strong acids) People think she's a weirdo for putting tape over her mouth, and even though it's understandable why they wouldn't understand how she does it for their safety, she still takes it pretty hard. She can talk without expelling much if any gas, but she still she poses as a mute just so that she wont have to deal with any issues that might pop up. She likes the soft Goth and pastel Goth styles and uses some of the expression in the style as well as her claimed disability to get away with the surgical mask thing. more to come possibly. I have a lot of adopts to finish first. I just wanted to post this since i found it. ^^

[loriendragonqueen]

New Dawn - Chapter One

Pairing: Ivar x OC

Words: 3.776

Warnings: slavery; bad language; blood; fight; magic;

Notes: So, guys, now I will post this one one chapter at time. This is the biggest fanfiction I wrote until now and I hope you enjoy it. Also, I am still learning greek, any mistakes, please forgive me!

______________________________________________

She stood frozen in the moment they stepped in the docks, like a marble statue, cold by the icy weather. Her wrists were throbbing because of the thick ropes that tied her up to the main beam of the boat. The sight of the village was terrifying to a young heart used to the copious sun from her lands in the south.

"A slave, nothing but a miserable slave!" she thought to herself closing her hands in fists, angry mad for have been betrayed by her own flesh and blood.

She frown in a deep look, shirring her lips like an animal ready to bite and rip apart anything that appears ahead. The other girls close to her started to tremble in fear for her breath was like of a beast just waiting for the right moment to attack.

"What is this?" asked one of the men noticing the state of fury that the young lady was on.

"May the gods deem me capable of massacring any man who finds himself entitled to subjugate me!" she said in greek, her mother tongue.

The other slaves began to scream in the moment they saw her eyes turn into solid black.

"Isa, stop!" the nearest girl said almost in a whisper with tears in her eyes.

"I will fight for my freedom and I will die if I must to!" she said through her teeth like a growl.

The boat then landed on the docks. There was a huge amount of people to greet the warriors that have returned from the raids with many treasures, slaves and stories to tell. A dark shadow landed with the girl still tied in thick ropes.

Her cotton dress that once was whiter than the clouds was now as dirt as the styes. She felt herself a filthy nut.

"No man will take me. No man will use me as he wish. For I am my father's child and the blood of the ancient kings flows through my veins!" she spoke to herself in low tone, ready to spread some blood if needed.

The thick rope was untied from the main beam and Isa was pulled out of the boat. Dragged to the market, she felt the gazes burns upon her skin kissed by the sun, in her hair colored by the olives and long enough to whip her rear in every step taken. Her big bright hazel eyes, once full of life, now wanted to see the blood run like a river from every single person in that market. She could smell the iron and yearn for the view.

"Whom will be the lucky and wealthy man to buy this exotic sample from the southern islands? They say that she is the last daughter of an old and cripple king dethroned by his own sons!" the merchant said with an immense smile in his face, for he knew that she was worth a high price.

"Filthy animal!" she said in his tongue and spat in his face, making everybody around them laugh.

The man, immersed in wrath, slapped her in the face, pulling out some blood of her lower lip.

She grimaced even uglier, stepping forward towards the man and hitting his nose with her forehead, grinning her gritted and bloody teeth, spitting in his face now gushing the red. She guffawed madly, snoring time and again like a insane.

The crowd got bigger shortly. Everyone in that market came to see what was happening, and the fuss took the attention of the rulers close to the palace.

"I am no beast to be used like one. Touch me again and I will kill you with my hands even tied!" she yelled to the man who has paid a fair amount of gold for her.

The crowd then opened and three men came to see the source of the turmoil.

"What's happened?" the tallest one asked, searching with his light blue eyes for some answer.

"This greek bitch still thinks she is royal. She still thinks she is untouchable!" the merchant said while trying to put his nose back together.

"Greek?" the other man asked in low tone to the owner of the blue eyes.

"Where is this?" he asked giving voice to the doubt of his brother.

"Does it matter?" she replicated in a cocky tone "The gods shall burn that fucking land if they hear my prayers!"

The two rose their brows surprised by the voice tone of hers.

"I want her!" the third man said from the back, coming forward the two men.

She heard what was said and turned to confront the man. For her surprise, she saw a young man crawling on his hands looking up to her bleeding mouth.

"I belong to no one and I will fight till the death to avoid the chains!" she yelped once again.

"I really want her!" the young man said now with a devilish smile in his face.

"We have no money to buy you a new slave, Ivar!" the tallest one said.

The merchant, listening to the conversation, jumped promptly in front of them and said:

"Take her as a gift, young Ivar, she is yours for free!"

She growled and bit her lower lip, strong enough to cut it even deeper. Her cocky temper was ruling her, dragging her to a dangerous state, but in that moment, death was her only choice.

 The merchant gave the rope to the young man in the ground, smiling in satisfaction for having escaped from a bigger trouble. He knew the treatment that Ivar would give her, everybody knew the prince's reputation. Isa held her steps and stared the bleeding man.

"My father was not a cripple and you will die for touching his name in vain. Not today, but soon!" she said clear enough with her eyes fixed in the despair found in the bottom of the Merchant eyes.

Ivar begun to pull the young lady while crawling back to the hut that he shared with the two other man and a third one. His brothers followed him, curious about the slave bold enough to face a man like Ulrich the Merchant. He had the fame of being cruel with his slaves, but it seems that the greek one frightened him at the point of making him lose the amount of gold he paid to her brothers and be happy about it.

The hut was out of town but near to the blacksmith and the shield makers. Far, but close enough.

Isa got impatient along the way, because the man pulling her was as slow as a tortoise out of water. But she took deep breaths even with her jaw locked and unwelcoming face. After all, his condition resembled of her father. Her dead father, ambushed by his own blood.

"Kathármata! Bastards!" she said in her tongue, feeling the anger burns within her chest like the flames of the sun. The two walking men looked at her and saw her with the eyes closed as hard as her fists.

She stopped bleeding, but the stain remained in her lips like a kind of ornamented balm she used to wear in the feasts in her home. Her mouth, once filled with the widest and loveliest smile, now was withering by the hatred. Nothing would be able to scare her, for the death was her only friend.

They finally arrived in the hut, as simple as the ones belonging to her servants in Ithaca, but darker inside. Ivar left her close to the front door, still tied like a wild animal, and went to sit close to the dying embers in the hearth.

A few moments later, the fourth brother came in through the wooden door and found the slave standing by the entrance.

"What is this?" he asked quite surprise "You know that we cannot afford a slave, especially a damaged one!"

She squinted, looking at the loose blond hair of the man in front of her.

"She is mine, a gift from Ulrich!" Ivar simply said.

"What did you do to earn something from that stingy man?" he questioned with his eyes wide open.

"The question is, brother, what did she." Ivar calmly spoke.

"She broke Ulrich's nose with her forehead, Sigurd." the one with the clear blue eyes said.

Sigurd laughed.

"A crazy freak to another crazy freak!" he laughed even harder and the two other brothers looked at him fearing for Ivar's response.

His blue eyes turned gray as his right hand reached his hatchet. The blond one had only time to deviate to his left side. Isa deviated as well even faster, for the hatchet would hit her in the center of her forehead if she did not. All the four were astonished.

"Ánandros! Coward!" she muttered with a little smirk, grabbing the hatchet stuck in the wooden wall, throwing it to its owner in a way even more precise than anyone in that hut.

A little grin emerged from the corner of Ivar's mouth.

"As I said, a freak to another!" Sigurd said and sat close to his big brother.

"Are you hungry?" Ivar asked trying to be nice or pretending as well.

"No!" she answered with her upthrusted chin.

"Thirsty?" he insisted.

"No!" she said in the same haughty tone.

"Very well then!" he finished and started to eat and drink with his brothers, talking about plans of revenge and war.

Isa felt dizzy while the night begun to fall. Her hands still tied went purple as time went by. She felt, for the first time in her life, a kind of weakness she did not know. Her heart was beating faster than never. Then she passed out, falling in the wooden floor.

In her dreams she saw her home covered by ashes as grey as the sky. She started to walk through the dead land by a recent track in the dry soil. The path led her to the old house made of oak where she born in, hided in the ancient forest and unknown by many. She saw corpses drowned in blood close to the burning place. She heard the desperate screams of a woman trapped inside the house and identified them as being the cries of her mother. She fell on her knees and her tears begun to wash the soot in her cheeks, creating salted trails on her skin.

"Mamá! Mamá!" she yelled in despair, for she knew she was useless and couldn't do anything "Mamá!" she whispered at the end being lugged back to herself.

She woke in the middle of the night in the same place she fell in. The first thing she noticed was her wrists finally untied. Then, she felt a gaze upon her from too close - it was Ivar, sat beside her on the floor, curious about her screams.

"What was that?" he asked touching her tears with the point of his fingers.

"Does it matter?" she sat and wiped her face with the back of her hands.

"You screamed in your sleep and your body became as hot as the fire in the fireplace. I could swear there was smoke on you!" he said poking her left arm.

"I saw my mother burning to the death and there's nothing I can do to change this sight!" she stared him "Therefore, it doesn't matter!"

"You're a völva!" he shouted.

"A völva? What... Oh, a manteío, an oracle. No, I am not!" she said as a whisper.

"You have visions, then you are a völva, like my mother!" he insisted.

"If I was as powerful as one of them, don't you think I would have seen this shitty destiny a long time ago? Don't you think I would have changed my fate and the fate of my parents, killing my brothers?" she stretched her arms and legs, lying on the floor once more to make her spine straight again.

"So you are a princess in fact." he grinned cunningly.

"I worth nothing if is that what you're thinking." she sighed.

"Then I should kill you right now!" and he placed a sharp and pointy knife under her chin.

"You would be doing me a favor!" she said pressing her neck in the blade without straying her eyes from his.

The silence fell in the place where they both were alone. Not a single movement from the parts - they remained motionless.

"Do it!" she said cutting the silent veil.

"No, I may have plans for someone like you, after all!" he put his knife back in the sheath in his belt and begun to crawl back to his bed.

Isa spend the night in clear, she couldn't sleep even if she tried.

The dawn finally came and the young lady decided to have a bath. She could not stay another day smelling like a nut - she needed to bathe to clear her mind and soul, to see further. So she left the hut and begun her search for a river far from everyone, finding it almost in the top of a hill and surrounded by trees. She got naked but, before trying to cleaning herself, she tried to cleanse her dress in the stones the way her servants used to do.

After taking the dirt of the cloth, she started to bathe. Slowly, even with the water freezing her bones. Being filthy and smelly wasn't in her plans, mostly in a barbaric land like that.

"You" the voice said at her back.

She turned to see one of the brothers, Hvitserk, looking at her with some interest. After all, her skin was almost in the color of a peach but lighter. Her brown hair long enough to cover her hips half out of the water. Her pointed and noble nose standing out in her marked face by the turmoil of yesterday, above her thick and juicy lips still swollen. But her eyes was her jewels, dark hazel and bright in the shape of the eyes of a wild cat. She was beautiful, exotic, an aim of looks.

"Speak!" she said in her old proud tone, forgetting that she was the slave.

"What are you doing? Who gave you the order?" he asked crossing his arms in his chest.

"It's pretty obvious, don't you think?!" and then she dove like one of the nymphs of the old stories told by the ancient ones.

Isa, feeling clean again, came out of the water with a little smile in her lips. She walked towards her dress without caring with the eyes of the man in her nudity.

"Not ashamed?" he asked.

"A body is just a body, nothing more than that!" she said getting dressed, grabbing her sandals and starting to walk to the man who, in theory, owned her.

Hvitserk followed her closely, as a sort of escort.

"Princess..." he called in a mocking tone.

She rolled her eyes feeling her veins begin to jump in her neck.

He tormented her all the way to the hut, poking and provoking her for a couple of times. When they were about to reach the door direction, the man tried to grab her and kiss her.

Shouts were heard coming from those outside the hut, alerting the three men inside it. They went outside as fast as they could just to see their brother being overwhelmed by the young woman who knocked him to the ground and pinned his right arm on his back, plunging his face into the damp ground.

The three men laughed so hard that their bellies started to ache.

"I am not a fucking slave and I won't be profaned by a weak man like you!" she shouted.

"It seems, brother, that your charm is broken!" Ivar said still laughing.

Isa, noticing the attention upon them, got up from him and walked towards the men, frown, trying to clean her hands now dirty again.

"Écho anektí ólo aftó to krýo gia to típota! I put up with all that cold water for nothing!" she said to herself growling at the end.

The three gave her passage and Ivar followed her up there. The scene he saw enlivened him.

"What is your name, slave?" he asked while she sat close to the fire without ceremony.

"Isa"

"Like the rune?" he raised his brows in fright.

"What?" she inquired confuse.

"Isa is a rune, means ice, focus, ego, intelligence. It freezes to protect." he responded grinning from ear to ear.

"No, I am Isa, just Isa. Nothing more, nothing less!" she simply said.

"You are truly a gift!" Ivar said handing her some ale.

Isa, mistrustful, accepted the cup and drank the liquid in just one sip. She was thirsty.

"Hungry?"

She nodded yes.

Ivar then threw an apple to her who grabbed it in the air.

"Tell me, Isa, how did you learn my tongue?" he asked sat in a stool across the hearth.

"I am the daughter, well, I was the daughter of a king. Learning was my function!" she bit the apple with hunger and continued speaking with full mouth "There was this man who came to Ithaca after a shipwreck, he was the only survivor. He asked for shelter in our lands and my father gave him in exchange of his knowledge. So he taught us, my brothers and me. In fact, I was the only one who learnt something!"

"What was the man's name?" he asked.

"Erik Barnsson, from Norway, he used to say."

Ivar took a sip from his cup.

"And how many other tongues you speak?"

Isa saw enormous curiosity in his eyes.

"Some, not many."

"Do you speak Franc?"

She nodded yes.

"The england one?"

She also nodded yes.

"Also latin and hebraic." she complemented.

"So you speak six different tongues. Interesting... And by the way you kicked my brother's ass, you also fight." he said probing her.

"Reach your point, master!" she ironized the last word, finishing her fruit.

"Teach me!" he said.

"What?" she choked.

"I want to learn what you know. Teach me, is simple, don't play yourself dumb!" he shook his arms up, landing them down in his lap.

"So that means that I am not a slave anymore. Right?"

"I haven't paid a single coin for you, so, why not?" he threw his hands to the air as a sign of lack of importance.

"Deal!" and she spat on her right hand, holding it above the fire waiting for him to do the same "Do it as a sign of trust!"

So Ivar spat on his hand and shook her hand.

"Deal!" he agreed.

***

After a month tied in that boat, the taste of freedom was superb. The stars in that night were divine – It was when the lights began to dance in the sky. Isa, who was lying on the ground on the top of the hill on the back of the hut, was amazed. All those lights dancing like wild fire lit something inside the girl.

"The valkjryas are riding tonight!" the voice said coming closer.

"I have never seen such a beautiful thing. Not even the ocean of my home illuminated by the full moon in a summer night has this beauty!" she said without moving.

Ivar laughed.

"Don't laugh of me!" she frown "It is rude!"

He laughed even more.

"Vlákas! Idiot!" she said more to herself.

The young man sat beside her. With the proximity, Isa was swallowed by another vision. Her eyes went pale, her skin went hot and the air weighed in her lungs. The lights reflected in her orbs as if they were part of them.

"Aíma... Aíma... Aíma..." she kept saying over and over like a prayer.

After moments, she came back to herself, sweaty and with her mouth dry.

"What did you seen? What means aíma?" he asked amused.

"Blood. Aíma means blood. I saw a sea of blood in a land I do not know yet. I saw a large army ready to face the death. Flags were trampled by horses and men, spears and shields were broken and a wanderer was walking through the fallen bodies while the crows croaked." she said cleaning the sweat of her face with the palms of her hands.

"You saw Odin!" he said aloud.

"Who... Oh, the god you call Allfather!" she smirked "I have never seen a god before!"

"Maybe your gods doesn't exist!" he tried to provoke her.

"No, they do, but they are fucking narcissists that enjoy fucking with mortals and drinking a lot. They don't give a shit about us, they just want to see us fighting and dying, worshipping their mercy!" she sat and fidget touched her hair.

"They look like good gods for me!"

"That is because you might be as crazy as them!"

Ivar gritted his teeth.

"It doesn't matter, in the end we are all mad!" she sighed looking at her hands.

"I am not crazy!" he said in a hiss.

"Of course not, mommy's boy, of course not!" she taunted.

"What do you know, witch?" he pushed her by the shoulder.

"I hear, therefore I know. You still acts like a spoiled brat under your mother's wings. You will be nothing if you keep acting like this!" her eyes went black in the moment she said the first word. One of her demons was free. "Tell me I am lying, Ivar Ragnarsson, the one they call the Boneless!"

He felt his anger arise and increase but the black in her eyes frightened him a little.

"You will only be great in the moment you learn to fly with your own feathers and reach the sky by yourself. For the gods has smiled at you, son of Ragnar!" she breathed in and out twice before falling in the ground.

"Isa?" he called but she didn't move a single bit. Only after a slap on her face, she opened her eyes.

"What happened?" she asked confused.

"It's me who asks. What was that? Your eyes, they..."

"They went black?"

He nodded yes.

"Fuck!"

"Is that you?" he asked with some innocence in his voice.

"Not really, well, I don't know. Sometimes these things come out and say a lot of words, like a god or some sort of spirit."

"And you remember what it says?"

"Not always, most of the times I just pass out." she sighed "But I heard that you'll going to fly and reach the sky!" she fully smiled opening her arms and waving them like bird wings, giggling soothingly while still on the ground.

[vileart]

Yvette's Dramaturgy: Urielle Klein-Mekongo @ Edfringe 2017

China Plate presents:

Yvette

By Urielle Klein-Mekongo

A one woman show with original music about a stolen childhood and growing up with a secret.

Directed by Rebecca Atkinson Lord Script by Urielle Klein-Mekongo

Pleasance Courtyard, Below | 2nd – 26th August (not 14th), 2.15pm (3.15pm)

Fresh from graduating from East 15, Urielle Klein-Mekongo brings her award-winning, debut production to the Edinburgh Fringe Festival. Based on a true story, Yvette fuses spoken word, music and an exceptional solo performance to present a story of survival, teenage angst and Hello Kitty knickers. 

Written and performed by emerging artist Urielle Klein-Mekongo, Yvette has won the Young Harts Writing Fest Audience Favourite, the Kings Head Theatre Stella Wilkie Award and The East15 Pulse Award 2017. 

What was the inspiration for this performance?

I had many inspirations for the performance, the storyline itself is based loosely around my own experience. I had read and seen two one-woman shows (chewing gum dreams and Bitch Boxer) where the staging and style of writing felt unique and engaging and I wanted for my piece to have that feeling to. 

I think I wanted to write myself to a place of healing, but soon figured that I couldn't. What I actually needed to write was the truth about where I was at. One of the the things I wanted to explore most in the show was a sense of vulnerability and emotional nudity,  and so the devising process was hard for me but truly beneficial for the show that we created through it. I want people who have been through what I went through to be inspired by this show to reclaim their lives and rise from it.

Is performance still a good space for the public discussion of ideas?

I think its a perfect space to talk about it, especially topics that are rarely talked openly about. There are more victims of sexual abuse and human trafficking everyday and I feel that my show doesn't just make you look at it with a quick glance, but makes you see what it takes to be vulnerable and then have someone take advantage of that. 

I also wanted people to realise that whilst children may appear childish and young, they often know much more than we imagine children should. I also wanted to explore the racial politics that exists within the black community . The fact we still value ourselves buy the standard of the brown paper bag, a way of viewing ourselves ingrained in our community from the days of slavery till now.

How did you become interested in making performance?

As part of my course at East 15 Acting School I had to write a play for our course’s Debut Festival. Whilst I had always written music and poetry, I’d never written a play.  I sent 5 pages of funny scenes drawn from childhood memories of just being a curious girl from a London estate.  I enjoyed integrating my love for poetry and drawing the struggles of growing up without a father because it gave me more depth to explore what I was afraid of addressing. I knew there was one story of mine I really wanted to tell but was too afraid to, but it became less of an obstacle and more something to weave into the piece.

Is there any particular approach to the making of the show?

I did a lot research on multi rolling through watching stand up shows and I  found it help me tie the overall show together. There was a lot of character improvisations which helped me tidy the script.  I also had a playlist of my favourite hits of that time that really help me get in touch with the youthful spring in my characters step, and with a loop pedal I adapted an created a musical through line to transition the piece through.

Does the show fit with your usual productions?

This is my first production so I'm very new to this but  I hope the standard of my future productions will get better every time.

What do you hope that the audience will experience?

I hope for women and men to look at their struggles and be able to look forward and say ‘what's next’. Because, I truly believe that we are the authors of our own story despite the things that go wrong. We decide whether we can get back up and face the world.

Evie is thirteen and lives in Neasden with her Mum. She wants to tell us about something - her crush on Lewis, trying to be a woman, friends, virginity, lightys, garage remixes… and an ‘Uncle’ who lurks in the corners of her story. She wants to tell us something, but first she must face it for herself. Through music, rhyme and witty character observations Urielle Klein Mekongo invites the audience into a snapshot of a young girls life, growing up in a single parent home in North London, the trials and tribulations of being a teenager and the dark figure that infiltrates her life.

Urielle said, “This project tells a coming of age story, that asks questions about what it means to be a black girl from a single parent household. It’s particularly important to me because its a story based on challenges I faced growing up with major daddy issues and trying rise from of ashes of sexual abuse. It took me a while to come face to face with it, like many other victims but I believe that this show could encourage more people to speak up.”

Following its opening performance at East15’s DEBUT Festival, the Bernie Grant Arts Centre has commissioned the show and producers China Plate have come on board for its transfer to the Edinburgh Festival Fringe. Director Rebecca Atkinson Lord has worked with Urielle to enhance the production and elevate it beyond the constraints of a university setting. 

“Urielle is a startlingly compelling performer with an exciting gift for brilliant music and cheeky wit. Yvette is a story of determination and triumph that is breathtaking in its honesty told by a performer who is so dazzlingly herself that you can't help but root for her.” Rebecca Atkinson-Lord

There will be a collection for Rape Crisis England after every performance as a means of supporting the excellent work that they do across the UK. Rape Crisis England & Wales is a charity that exists to promote the needs and rights of women and girls who have experienced sexual violence it is the national umbrella body for a network of autonomous member Rape Crisis Centres across England and Wales and was set up to support their specialist work.  

Urielle Klein-Mekongo is a writer, theatre maker singer/songwriter and performer. After first entering training via the National Youth Theatre’s Playing Up course in 2013, she went on to study Acting and Contemporary Theatre at East 15 where she graduated in 2017. Yvette marks Urielle’s first professional outing as a writer/performer. Other credits include Swipe (The Arcola with NYT), Three Sisters (East 15).

Rebecca Atkinson Lord trained at RADA and with the Royal Opera House and the Young Vic. Her work has taken her from major international companies like Shakespeare’s Globe, Scottish Opera and the Royal Opera House, to intimate found spaces in London and beyond. She is Founding Artistic Director and Chief Executive of Arch 468 and from 2010-2016 was Director of Theatre at Ovalhouse in London. 

China Plate is an independent theatre studio that works with artists, venues, festivals and funders to challenge the way performance is made, who it’s made by and who gets to experience it. Launched by Ed Collier and Paul Warwick in 2006, the company is currently collaborating with Caroline Horton, Chris Thorpe / Rachel Chavkin, Contender Charlie, Dan Jones, Sarah Punshon, Rachel Bagshaw, Inspector Sands, Joan Clevillé, David Edgar, Katie Lyons / Ella Grace and Ben Wright. China Plate are Associate Producers at Warwick Arts Centre where they develop and commission new work, Artistic Associates at the New Wolsey Theatre where they are Directors of PULSE Festival, Programmers of New Directions (the NRTF showcase) and Programme Consultants for Hull City of Culture 2017 (Back to Ours Festival). They are producers of innovative development programmes including The Darkroom, The Optimists (producer training), The First Bite and Bite Size Festivals and the NRTF Rural Touring Dance Initiative. 

  Commissioned by Bernie Grant Arts Centre in association with Hull 2017

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