#i have colour on my face and brighness in my eyes

[hellsbellssinclub]

Finally got my new job documents all sorted. Getting the pre- workplace bloods done today (because healthcare worker and all that) and now it is just the waiting game for them to send me anything else i may need to do before my start date in May.

It is a big relief having those done. I should have received them back in Dec but never did and I have been on their assess about it, poiltly but still.

Now that I have filled out the documents, I can finally relax. Those documents show I am employed. That I am going to have secure work for the next year. I can finally be sure that I can apply for rentals in the area that I want because I know i will have work there.

I can just chill and enjoy the rest of summer now. My best friend and I are going to the zoo tomorrow. Going to buy myself a zoo membership I think so I can go throughout the year. Going to enjoy myself fully in the sun with my best friend and no longer worry about this.

My fics are coming along good. I am having fun writing them. I am having fun challenging myself with them. I have more art I plan to do and I am excited to try new things and new ways of drawing. I am excited to use new suppiles and just have fun.

I turn 30 in two months. And I am just so happy to be here. In this life. Facing all the challenges I have, turning 30 sounds amazing.

I am very much looking forward to the future and all it holds these days.

Who'd have thought I'd ever get here?

[pvffinsdaisies]

Northumbria Headcanon Masterpost

The artwork used was created by @ladybrainrot

Continuing on with my master posts for my portrayals of different characters, I’ve decided the next one would be for my OC portrayal of Northumbria. Since I did one of these for Scotland, I’ve been wanting to create another one, but I’ve not known which character to choose. Bria just happens to be my brainrot atm, though she’s not as developed as I thought.

Northumbria is an old kingdom that consisted of modern day northern England, and southern Scotland, through the 600s-900s. In my eyes, Northumbria stayed alive and in modern day represents the north of England- the cultural and the class difference. With that in mind, and also noting that I am not a big history fan, please do be weary that many choices made take into account modern day northern England, rather than the former kingdom of Northumbria itself. This is also just my take, as someone from the north of England. I am also aware that she is not 100% accurate- Bria originally started out as a 2p nyo England over four years ago, but as I grew up, I decided to revamp her a little, and she became my oc portrayal of Northumbria. Keep in mind, had I originally set out to make a northern England oc, not a 2p nyo England, she would probably be quite different than she is today.

PHYSICAL

Northumbria’s hair is a mousy brown colour, and it lies somewhere between blonde and brunette. This was done intentionally to show her similarities to both Scotland and to England, and how she’s the awkward space in between the two of them.

When left down, her hair reaches down to her mid back, but it’s frequently worn up to keep it out of her face.

Bushy eyebrows runs in the family, and she didn’t manage to escape this gene either.

Northumbria has softer, though not rounded, features. She has droopy/downturned eyes, a heart face shape, and a button nose.

She has dimples in her cheeks, which represent the Yorkshire Dales, and a few freckles which represent the Lake District

She is one of the shortest of her siblings, standing at 5’3 or about 160cm

Bria is chubby, with a pear body shape. A lot of her weight is in her stomach and waist, and she has a smaller top half.

Northumbria’s breasts represent the Pennines, a mountain range which runs through the centre of Northern England. The mountains are, objectively, not that big.

Northumbria has very bad hay fever, and she takes tablets every spring and summer, but they don’t do much for help. She loves the outside, though, and thinks a runny nose and itchy eyes are worth it to be out in the countryside.

She has problems with her lungs from spending so many years of her life working as a coal miner, she uses an inhaler to help her.

She doesn’t wear make up very often, only if she’s going out or if attending a formal event- and she’s not very good at it! Mostly, she just hasn’t had much practice, and finds most days she can’t be bothered with it.

Despite this, Northumbria is incredibly skilled with plaits and buns! Her hair is most often seen in just a simple three strand plait for simplicity, but she can do some beautiful techniques if she wants to.

She has a pink rose necklace which she wears all the time. It represents the red rose of Lancashire and the white rose of Yorkshire. Normally, these two rose come together to create the “Tudor Rose”, but for a little necklace, a pink rose will do fine.

Speaking of roses, she likes to smell like them! She always buys rose scented perfumes. It’s fair to say, these flowers mean a lot to her.

As well as her rose necklace, you will almost always see Northumbria wearing a flat cap. She owns a dark green one, but also a brown one. She takes a lot of pride in these hats.

PERSONALITY

Out of her and Arthur, Northumbria is definitely the friendlier, more extroverted one. If she sees someone she knows on the street, she will stop and say hi, have a little chat to them, before heading off on her way. Moments like this brighten her day.

Even if you are not yet friends, she prides herself as being someone you can stop and talk to, if you need it. She’s also not shy to striking up a conversation with someone new. She will talk to you like you know one another, even during small talk.

She takes the position of the mum friend, and she can be extremely comforting for when you’re upset. Guaranteed, if knock on the door and ask to talk, she’ll hurry you inside, make you some tea, and if you’re lucky, she’ll make you her favourite comfort food. She’ll always be sure to provide a shoulder to cry on, a listening ear, words of encouragement, and some advice once you’re feeling better.

Bria is a very loyal person, especially to those she considers herself closest with. She will stay by the side of those she loves through no matter what. This is one of the reasons she has never seriously considered trying to gain independence.

However, she can also be very indecisive, she can change her mind and stance pretty frequently. This meeting her loyal nature can be conflicting sometimes. She finds constantly switching between being more loyal to England, and being more loyal to Scotland (who she’s (debatably) closer to.)

Northumbria is incredibly passionate, but her passion can come out quite aggressive. You can notice a significant flip from her usual calmer, motherly personality, to her yelling and shouting curse words. It can be quite intimidating if you’re not used to it.

Selfishness is probably Bria’s worst trait. She will always think about herself and her own situation first, and sometimes might never even consider someone else’s perspective on things. This can and has lead to her stabbing people in the back to try and better herself if she gets desperate enough (sorry Wales.)

She regularly feels ignored and overlooked, mainly by England, but she hasn’t figured out how to make herself be taken seriously by others, so no matter how much she shouts, nothing much will change.

Because of this, she has an intense desire to prove herself. She had a tendency to be vocal and brag about anything important or anyone successful who comes from the north of England. It can seem like she believes she’s superior to Arthur, but it’s more a desire to prove herself to be an equal. That, and just a good amount of pride and patriotism.

Northumbria has a hard time letting go of the past. She struggles to move on, now matter how far away it was. She still clings to her old coal mining job especially to define her identity. She won’t stop there. She’ll go back as far as the Viking age if she has to.

She’s incredibly humble and modest, which means she sometimes dismisses the bad things that have happened to her in the past, choosing to focus on the positives. This can give her a tainted view of her own history, and she looks back on many things with a far more positive outlook, her nostalgia can blind her to the hardships she faced in the past.

Northumbria likes to credit herself as being a realist, and being fairly down to earth. She is not blinded to current situations from nostalgia. And, whilst she finds some fantastical stuff appealing, she is not blinded to the reality of the world and the position she’s in.

She can be a bit of a hopeless romantic, but not in the sense that she has an unrealistic expectation of love. She’s more just looking for someone to see her, understand her, and settle down with her as her partner. She loves the idea of love, but she’s also aware of what it does and doesn’t actually look like.

Bria heavily values politeness and manners. A simple please and thank you never cost anyone anything, she finds it very rude and demanding to not use them, and she will remind her family if they forget!

She holds a lot of respect for people who are honest and who speak their mind. She doesn’t like when she feels people try and hide how they feel about something. She may be a bit shocked sometimes at bluntness, but eventually she’ll come round and admire the honesty. She makes sure to tell people who are like this that she appreciates it.

HOBBIES & INTERESTS

Northumbria loves to go out on walk around the countryside, however, given her lungs she has to really pace herself and try not to go too fast. She also avoids hikes that are going to be too challenging for her. But still, nothing will stop her from getting outside.

She enjoys cycling too, but again, has to pace herself and try not to do anything that exceeds her limits.

Whilst she doesn’t play, rugby is her favourite sport by a mile! She is extremely passionate about it, and she gets far too into the games. She also insists that league is the better, and rougher version. Her entire family disagrees.

Something she and her family can agree on, is a strong love for music. Bria’s preferred taste is pop music, she especially loves boy bands and girl groups. She is the world’s biggest Take That fan.

She actually used to play an instrument herself! The Northumbrian pipes, a smaller (and quieter) variant of bagpipes that come from the north of England. She and Scotland used to play together, but she gave it up in the 19th century, and hasn’t picked them back up since.

Whilst Northumbria is no top-quality chef, she’s actually very good at warm, comforting foods to fill you up. Her favourite to make is mince and dumplings- which also happens to be her comfort food- but she also makes a good shepherd’s pie or cottage pie. She also makes a brilliant yorkshire pudding.

She is a savoury girl all the way! Too much sweet stuff can make her feel ill. She is a devout fan of greggs.

She is not much of a baker herself, however, she does love to treat herself to a baked pastry or pasty. She especially loves Cornish pastries, and when her old sister, Cornwall, bakes them herself, she will never be able to resist them.

Whilst she no longer works as a farmer, she did used to, and she found a love for gardening from it. She grows vegetables and flowers, and gifts any spares that she had no need for to one of her siblings. Her garden is not large by any means, but it is very pretty.

Much like the rest of her siblings, Northumbria enjoys a night out on the town, venturing into pubs. She has a bias towards Irish bars especially, due to the surplus of them in Liverpool thanks to mass Irish immigration.

She loves reading, and she has a massive passion for Beatrix Potter and her novels. She has original copies of all of them on her shelf, as well as other pieces of merchandise like fridge magnets or garden ornaments.

Northumbria has a knack for poetry, especially nature themed poetry. Influenced by the amount of poets that come from or moved to the Lake District.

She attends the Viking Festival that takes place in York every year.

She enjoys watching soap operas, her favourites being Emmerdale and Coronation Street- which she keeps up with regularly. She gets overly invested in the storylines sometimes. Though, she’s aware they’re not the best quality.

Northumbria has some skill regarding sewing. She can fix a button or a zip on a dress, but she’s not skilled enough to be making her own clothes. She just repairs old ones.

However, she is very skilled at knitting. From the 1980s-2005, the world’s fastest knitter was a woman from the north of England. Northumbria herself is pretty fast!

LIFESTYLE

Northumbria uses the human name Ivory Ailith Kirkland, with Ivy or Ives as her nickname. I would’ve used a Cumbrian name, but alas with the language being extinct, there’s no websites online.

She has two pet hedgehogs who run around her house and her garden, they’re called Charlotte and Peach.

Ivory currently resides in Newcastle Upon Tyne, and she has the thickest geordie accent you’ll ever hear, although for many years of her life she lived in York. The city is still one of her favourites, and it’s very special to her, but she now only visits once a year.

Despite this, she considers the Lakes the place where her heart lives. She tries to visit at least once or twice a year.

Thick as her accent is, it’s really flexible. It changes quickly, if she talks to someone from a different area for even an hour she accidentally starts to mimic their speech. If she spends a week somewhere, she could probably pass as a native.

Northumbria speaks English, British Sign Language, French and Scots. She used to speak Cumbrian, Latin and old Norse. The latter two are long gone and forgotten, but she’s still convinced if someone spoke Cumbrian to her, it would come flooding back. Despite her flexible accent, she’s never been the great at studying new languages. They fly right over her head! She is, however, extremely prone to picking up new slang words upon meeting someone, even if she’s never heard said words before.

Since Ivory is not recognised as a country, nor is she self-reliant, she doesn’t actually have much nation work to do- if any at all! She travels down to Manchester if there is anything in the north she is needed for, and sometimes she will step in as England for Arthur is needed. Generally though, she has a lot of time to herself to explore the north.

She technically lives in a shared house in london, too, with the rest of her siblings (besides Ireland), but she doesn’t like it down there and isn’t needed there often at all.

Ivory’s wardrobe is simple, but still pretty. She prefers more earthy tones like greens and browns, but she’s never shy to a floral detail. Her clothes are comfortable and easy to move around in- generally. She’s a big fan of pinafores, simple tops and t-shirts, and cardigans. You’ll rarely ever find her in anything slim fitting.

Deep down, Ivory longs simply for a life of comfort. And, even though she’s a morning person, and she loves her morning walks, her favourite part of the day is sitting down on the sofa with a cup of tea in the evenings.

However, due to her longing for comfort, she’s developed a fear of the unknown. She doesn’t like stepping outside of her comfort zone if she doesn’t absolutely have to, and even then she may try and ignore it as much as she can.

She has a complicated relationship with the subject of potential independence. Her fear of the unknown prevents her from taking the idea seriously, even if she’s not comfortable with the current situation- and is constantly complaining about how ignored she feels and how she wants better. She identifies as northern before she does as English, and she is always making a point that she has way more in common with Scotland than with the south, but to her, complete independence is something she is too afraid to take seriously. It’s easier to joke about, which she has no problems doing.

Whilst Bria is pretty well-off now, she’s had some very low points financially in the past, and has gotten used to being poorer one out of her and Arthur. As a result, she is extremely money conscious. She is constant scouting for discounts, trying to get things at the lowest possible price, and checking her bank account after every single thing she buys. She gets nervous whenever she has to buy something that’s a bit more expensive than she’d like. She might miss out on fun opportunities with other people if she feels the cost will be too high.

This means that even through the winter, she’ll try her best to save as much money on heating and on electricity as possible. If it’s cold, you don’t turn on the heating, you put a blanket over you. If it’s dark, you can turn on some smaller lights, but by no means can you turn on the big one!

Due to her budgeting, she can get extremely defensive about her choice to always go cheap. If someone try tell her that she doesn’t need to be counting every penny anymore, that she can let loose a bit and can now afford nicer things, they can expect a whole lecture from her about how money doesn’t grow on trees, and it’s always good to have a bit of extra cash on you.

Ive is a surprise visitor, and is always dropping in on her family members unannounced, even though they all live hours away from her. It really can annoy her siblings, and you’ll find them complaining, “I wish she’d just let me know first.”

She is a heavy meat eater, and she will pour thick & heavy gravy over every meal she has until it’s swimming in it. Despite her fondness for gardening, she does not eat nearly enough vegetables.

Out of all of her siblings, she is the most non-religious, and at this point her relationship with her faith is very weak. She is the only sibling who doesn’t have a mythical creature who resides with her, and she feels she doesn’t see them as often as she used to do when she’s out and about. She still sees her brothers’ friends, like flying mint bunny for example, when visiting them, but outside of that they don’t really cross her mind much at all.

[mordoriscalling]

The Colour-Magic Theory (1/?)

Intro

Here comes part 1 of me playing with magic and giving myself Geraskier feels. Hope you enjoy! (Also, no beta, pls have mercy.)

***

From a look, a song and unwanted friendship, new lives are born. The stack of firewood is swallowed up by flames the moment Geralt casts Igni.

“Oh, I love that trick,” Jaskier says and puts his hands close to the fire, warming them after his fingers got stiff from playing the lute in the chill of the autumn evening. “Why don’t you use it every time, I wonder?” the bard asks, observing his companion sitting across the bonfire. “It’s so much easier.”

The witcher only grunts in reply, as is his way, and continues munching on a strip of beef jerky. Jaskier, however, isn’t deterred by the silence, and continues staring at Geralt expectantly. His questioning gaze is like a physical touch. It sends a tingling sensation down the witcher’s spine, the way it always does.

With a resigned sigh, Geralt answers, “I usually want to save my magic for when I really need it, but you were whining so much about the cold that I just wanted to shut you up quicker.”

Jaskier gasps and lays a hand on his breast, about to dramatically take offence, but doesn’t voice his hurt in the end. Something else intrigued him. “Save your magic?” he asks, “what do you mean?”

The witcher measures the bard with the blank “no more questions” look for long enough that any sane person would give up. Jaskier isn’t exactly sane, in Geralt’s (and some others’) opinion, and stares at the witcher right back, unmoved. When it comes to stubbornness, their relation is a diamond cut diamond type of situation.

Finally, Geralt gives in, huffing in irritation. “Magic always has a price. When you take power from Chaos, you have to give something back. The give and take tends to affect your physiological well-being, especially when the stakes are high.”

“So...” Jaskier begins, confused about his understanding of the matter, “casting signs weakens you and that’s why you don’t use magic often?”

“No,” the witcher answers, confusing his companion even further, “My extra mutations... they must’ve changed it. Using magic doesn’t have any effect on my body at all.”

“Fascinating,” Jaskier replies, then immediately gets up to rummage through his travel pack. He comes back to sit across Geralt with a notebook and a pencil in his hand. “What is the price you pay, then?” he asks the witcher and starts writing something in the notebook without waiting for a reply.

“Jaskier,” Geralt growls, “I haven’t told anyone about this.” The bard’s head snaps up and he stares at Geralt in shock. Then, understanding dawns on his face. “Oh.” He clears his throat. “Alright.” The next moment, the page is torn out of the notebook. It lands in the bonfire and turns into ash. Geralt stares into the flames silently while Jaskier waits for him to speak up.

“My powers deplete themselves,” the witcher says, “It takes time for the magic to return.”

“Peculiar,” the bard remarks, “And a pretty shitty deal, too. I’d rather have it affect my physiology than have to wait after every silly spell.”

Geralt shakes his head. “There’s something else. It’s... hard to explain. In a way, I can negotiate with Chaos. Make my magic not exhaust itself as quickly as it should. It’s useful when I’m in a fight.” His mouth sets into a grim line. “I still haven’t figured out the price I pay for that, though.”

Jaskier smiles a wry little smile, not commenting for once, and Geralt lets himself look at the bard, who meets his eye squarely. The bright gold connects with the cornflower blue and time stands still. Just between the two of them, the colour of the bard’s irises is suddenly so vibrant that it alerts Geralt’s witcher instincts. Jaskier tends to have that effect on him. The bard is always full of energy  – all flutter and movement, brightness and sounds – and it’s too much not to be suspicious. Too much for Geralt’s heightened senses as well; Jaskier’s constant chatter almost gives him a headache every day. His singing is even more bothersome, considering that Geralt’s medallion reacts to it.

“Maybe the price is putting up with you,” the witcher jokes, deadpan. “You!” Jaskier cries, directing an accusing pointing finger at Geralt, “You bastard! I’m a delight and a gift to this world!”

Geralt huffs out a laugh but does nothing to deny it. Jaskier may be annoying and strange but he’s a blessing all the same. Since he joined Geralt two years ago, he’s been working relentlessly on improving Geralt’s image and changing the public perception of all witchers. The bard wants him reborn as a hero, which is a fool’s errand, but he’s grateful for it anyway. The thank-you gets stuck in Geralt’s throat whenever he wants to say it, even though he’s already less spat at in villages. Thankfully, Jaskier seems to understand. Many things pass between them with little words.

Later, when they lay down to sleep, Jaskier’s quiet question reaches the witcher’s ears.  

“Geralt?”

“Hm?”

“Thank you.”

“Hmm.”

*

The bard walks a few steps ahead of Geralt, who follows him on his horse’s back. Jaskier is composing. He’s always in front of Roach when he’s preoccupied with the creative process. The song about the healing of the Striga that he’s working on is in the middle stages – the first version of lyrics is ready but every single line needs perfecting. This is exactly what Jaskier is doing now: trying out the sound of every word and looking for ones that fit the melody better.

The bard is so engrossed with the task that he doesn’t notice the obvious – how the nature around him moves to get closer to his voice. Geralt’s keen eyes notice the way each straw of grass and every leaf lean in, just a touch, to “listen”. The air has gone completely still and the meadow is eerily silent; even Roach seems to be holding her breath. Geralt’s medallion vibrates.

The witcher decides that this moment is as good as any to confront the issue.

“You’re not human.” Jaskier freezes in his tracks, his body going rigid with tension. The acidic stench of fear fills the air and Geralt shifts in the saddle, disturbed by the smell for the first time in decades. “I am not,” Jaskier replies, his back to the witcher. “Do you want to tell me?” Geralt prompts, his voice gentle like it almost never is.   The bard turns to face him, face pale and hands trembling. “You really don’t know what I am?” “You should be the one to say it,” the witcher answers softly. Jaskier releases a shaky breath and nods. Stepping off the path, he walks into the tall grasses and strums his lute. When he opens his mouth, he sings in a language which the witcher has never heard in his long life. The tongue consists mostly of croons, trills, whistles and swishing sounds, and it’s enchanting even to Geralt’s ears. The air becomes thick with power immediately. It’s not Chaos, however. It’s a whole different type of magic.

The fae are creatures of nature – they are born from its energy. Guarding its Order and sustaining its sacred rhythms is their ancient task that they’ve always been fulfilling, hidden away in their own dimension of the world. They belong to the magic of nature and they don’t move out of it. Usually.

Jaskier didn’t belong anywhere, not until recently. His rhythm has always been too fast. He flutters from place to place, both quickly bored and immensely fascinated with everything and anything. The skies have always drawn him in the most – he still dreams of being a bird and flying anywhere he wants. In the end, Jaskier’s Queen found his temperament unbearable enough that she didn’t clip his wings any longer and allowed him to mingle with mortals.

Jaskier’s done his fair share of that, along with quite some mischief, but his life of adventure truly began only when he saw the brooding loner in Posada. The man’s restrained disposition and the guarded gold of his eyes were arresting, intriguing. Jaskier instantly wanted to know what secrets the witcher held. A few years later, he’s sure he won’t ever grow tired of uncovering them – every little bit of information, of understanding Geralt better, sends a thrill of rightness and belonging through his being.

Freeing his magic puts him at ease, lets him truly breathe. And so, the bard carries on singing, not afraid anymore. He smiles, radiating happiness. His glamour has dropped a bit and his sharp fangs are showing but the witcher only smiles back with the tiny upturn of his lips. Jaskier laughs in between the lines because from this moment on, he’s well and truly safe.

When the song ends, the meadow is completely silent for a moment, then the buzz of insects picks up anew and the gentle gust of wind returns.

“You’ve said enough,” Geralt remarks, and that’s all he has to say on the matter.

After that, the bard opens up to his companion even more, if that’s even possible. Geralt has a suspicion that Jaskier’s chatter was to serve as a distraction from his magic. Now that it’s out in the open, Jaskier’s silences, previously almost non-existent, has got longer. The bard doesn’t shy away from using his power around the witcher, too, and uses it in various ways to make their lives easier. He enchants a client into compliance when they don’t want to give Geralt the promised pay, or asks plants and animals to tell them where the nearest shelter is. When Geralt has a restless night, Jaskier’s humming puts him to sleep. The witcher’s medallion always vibrates then but Geralt isn’t alarmed by it any longer. It’s become a welcome thrum.

Their dynamic changes but they don’t look for any ways to describe it; they simply live the new way and enjoy it. The lazy, warm afternoons are the most pleasant, when Geralt stretches out in a shade of some tree and dozes off to the sounds of Jaskier's lute. Other times Geralt uses Aard to toss some object and Jaskier tries to catch it, laughing, his giggles lovelier than the tinkle of silver bells. Chaos and Order swirl around them, the sky is blue and the sun shines bright on the lush green grass. It could mean nothing or it could mean the world but what matters is that they both find peace. This is why Geralt doesn’t call Jaskier his friend – the word doesn’t fit.

Then Cintra happens and they part ways for three whole years.

TBC

Part 2

[aliceaddellheidde]

Bee mine?

Short drabble for Valentine's day. 💜

Pairing: Ivar x reader (high school/modern au)

Words: 1095

A/N: It's 4 am here. Sorry for mistakes.

Warnings: swearing

Inspiration: 5SOS - Heartbreak girl and this pic I found on ig.

Friday, 14.2.:

  Ivar sees Y/N from his car seat as she admires ostentatious decoration of school. ,,Bro, stop staring and tell her finally." says his brother Hvitserk from driver side. ,,You know I can't. She has boyfriend." ,,How do you know? Did you ask her?" ,,No. But pretty girl like her isn't single for sure." ,,But it's Valentine's day. Send her card at least." Ivar is quiet when he leaves the car and walk slowly to his first class. And there she is. Sitting on her chair, right next to his.

  ,,Good morning Ivar." Y/N smiles at him and he glares at red card in her hand. ,,From your boyfriend?" he asks saurly. ,,Nope. From David! He wants to meet me at lunch!" she squeeks and shakes him from excitement. ,,Geez girl, calm down." he rolls his eyes. ,,I can't believe it's finally happening. You know I have ... ." ,,Huge crush on him since you first saw him. Like you didn't tell me so many times." ,,Sorry, it's just ... . I can't believe it!" ,,Me neither." he murmurs into sleeve of his hoodie. They aren't very close friends, but he knows a lot about her from her tellings and his observations. He watches her profile, admiring colour of her eyes in bright morning sun, reddnes in her cheeks from cold weather and her shining lips from that thingy his mother uses as well. His thoughts are interrupted by teacher.

***

,,Did you tell her?" That's first thing Hvitserk asks when they meet for lunch. ,,No. She got card from David. You know him. I'm stuck in friend-zone still. Fuck!" Few heads turn his way. ,,What are you staring at?!" he barks and glares at them. Then someone from behind all those people catches his attention. Y/N. She's walking fast with lowered head. ,,I think her meeting didn't go well." Ivar suddenly stands up. ,,Going to be a hero?" Hvitserk knows. He always knew. Ivar only takes his packed lunch and walks to school as fast as he can.

He rushes to first girls toilets he can find. To his luck it's empty, only quiet sobs echoes throught the space. ,,Y/N?" he asks and sobs stops. ,,I know you are here." ,,I'm not." she whispers and he laughs. ,,How can someone who's not here answer me, hm?" ,,I don't know." It's silent for few moments. ,,You wanna tell me what happened?" ,,No." ,,I have my mum's sandwiches." He smirks when her head peaks from behind cubicle's door. ,,Extra cheese and ham?" ,,Yup. We can eat them together." ,,Ok."

They sit on bench in corridor. ,,I was just bet to him." she says and bites a sandwich. ,,He said I'm really stupid if I really think he wants me. I'm just little girl. And he said few other bad things." She starts crying again and Ivar panicks a bit. ,,Can you hold me please?" ,,,Uhm, sure." His heart is jumping off his chest when she snuggles into his side. ,,I only wanted be happy this Valentine's day, you know? Have someone to share my love with." He lifts her face and she looks at him with red eyes. ,,You still can." ,,Really? With who?" He feels his cheeks turn red. ,,Me?" ,,You?" ,,Yeah? Is it that unbelievable?" She smiles at him. ,,Not at all." ,,Wait." He takes small card from his bag. ,,Here." Y/N takes it and her smile widens. On paper are two bees holding placard with ,,Bee mine?". ,,Omg, yes! I love it Ivar. Thank you." she kisses his cheek. ,,Would you like to come to my house after school?" ,,Like a date?" ,,Yes." ,,I'll be there." They finish rest of their lunch with smiles on faces and shy glances.

***

,,Mother! I'll need you help." Ivar says into phone when Y/N is safely in her class. He knows he can count on his mother.

***

When he walks into his house, nobody is there. He finds paper on table and silver square stuck to it with tape. ,,Have fun and be safe." is neatly written underneath it. ,,Mother." he grunts. He orders food they both agreed on and rushes to clean his bedroom a bit.

15 minutes later he hears door bell. Y/N stands outside in her brigh coat, scarf, hat and gloves. ,,Can I come in or you'll let me freeze to death?" He wakes up from his staring and let her in. ,,Food will be here soon." He takes her things and put them on bench next to the door. ,,Cool. Where is you fam?" ,,Brothers somewhere with their girls. Parents ... I don't know. What you wanna do first? Watch TV or bake?" ,,I still can't believe that Ivar Lothbrok likes to bake." She laughs walking to kitchen. ,,It's our secret." ,,You fam know." ,,Yeah, but you're the only one apart from them who knows it." He walks to her and tuck her hair behind her ear. ,,Red velvet cupcakes?" ,,With vanilla frosting." ,,Perfect combination." They start preparing ingredients when she finds his mother's note. She tries pretend she saw nothing but when she turns to him, they're both redder then cupcakes they're making.

They are eating their food and watching movie while waiting for cupcakes to be done.

When oven tings Y/N rushes to it and takes out perfect batch. She smiles at Ivar and he smiles back. ,,We make a great pear." He holds two pears in hands and she starts laughing uncontrollably. He watches her in awe. Ones she stops she puts frosting on cupcakes. ,,It was cute." She says to him. ,,You're cute." ,,Shut up." she shushs him and smears frosting over his cheek. ,,This is war." he smirks. Somehow food fight happends and between flour and frosting mess they share their first kiss. Their lips sealed tightly, hands everywhere. When he moves to her neck, she stops him. ,,Sorry." he apologize. ,,It's ok. But we should clean this up." ,And then we can continue?" ,,If you want to?" ,,I'd love to."

   They takes shower (separately) and he has almost another heart attack when he sees her in his clothes sitting on his bed. ,,You are beautiful." he whispers when they're under warm blanket, junk food on night table. She blushed and kisses his cheek. ,,Thank you Ivar." ,,No need to ... ." ,,Thank you for making this Valentine's day special for me." ,,I thank you for coming here, my perfect girl." They smile at eachother and then silently watch movie.

   Aslaug finds them sleeping in embrace next morning.

[lins-fandom-hub]

HPHM BANG 2020

And woohoo, October 1 is here, so why not kick it off with a BANG? Okay, that joke’s been used already--but hey I got a writing work here. And it’s paired with gorgeous artwork done by @swissgirlfromnowhere - I’ll put up a link to the artwork once it’s up! This was really challenging and yet still a lot of fun to write, so I’m really grateful to have signed up for this cool event.

Thanks to @hphmbang2020 for this--now let’s get things going!

---

PROMPT: Faced with attending Hogwarts on her own, having no friends and being a Werewolf, Chiara has problems to adjust to her life as a Hogwarts student and find her way to happiness. But everything changes after she meets a cute little cub from the Forbidden Forest and gets more than she bargained for.

WORD COUNT: 3566

Here’s the artwork!

---

LIGHT IN THE DARK

The glow of the flames rising high from the torches did nothing to light the darkness shrouded over the werewolf’s past.

Chiara Lobosca let out a slow, silent exhale, fists clenched at her sides. Hesitation slowed her steps, held her back in the throng of first-year students that surrounded her--the students all eagerly chattering in excitement as they followed their Prefect, Jane Court, to the Hufflepuff Common Room. Any typical kid her age right now would eagerly extend their hand to make a new friend, but she was not like the typical kid her age--not anymore.

Each of them were unaware of what she had been through. It was best to keep it that way.

It was not like she was scared of her own past. With parents that cared so much for her despite her recent afflictions, she felt like she could release her hold on the security blankets wrapped so tightly around her just a little. Still, the memory of her first and only friend learning of this secret and screaming in sheer terror at it when she realized her mistake upon seeing her transformation kept rising in her mind. The sight of what she became, when not the sweet shy girl in the day, led to the shadow forever cast over her head like an indestructible veil.

Knock, knock, knock-knock-knock. The sounds of her Prefect rapping her knuckles on a round wooden door caught her off-guard, but she managed to stop herself before she tripped over her feet. That was when she realized--tonight was the full moon. There was no way she could stay in her dormitory tonight without anyone knowing her secret.

The minute her Prefect dismissed everyone, she departed from the common room at high speed, dodging past the older students making their way into the common room and dashing out into the corridors. With what little strength she had in her conscious effort to distance herself, she wrenched the door open and sprinted across the grounds towards the forest. Her strides never faltered, feet pounding hard on the grass and breathing quickly through her mouth. As she reached the border treeline, she glanced back at the castle, distant lights from the windows twinkling like the stars in the sky.

Then her blue eyes widened as they soon met the luminescent glow of the full moon; her mind blanked, and she knew no more.

---

“Miss Lobosca--a word, if you may.”

The first Potions class came and went, and the conclusion of the hour in the chilly dungeon brought the end of the first day of classes for the first-year students. The Ravenclaws gave a half-hearted cheer in unison as they packed their bags and left in small groups of twos and threes. Some of the Hufflepuffs did the same, anxious to get out of Professor Snape’s way. Chiara was just clearing her things and didn’t even make three steps to the exit when the Potions Master called her to the front. She did so as the last student almost tripped on his loose shoelaces oh his way out of the classroom, deliberately biting back a swear.

“What’s the issue, Professor?” Chiara asked him timidly. “It’s...not about my Cure for Boils, I hope?”

“Your Cure for Boils was...passable,” Professor Snape told her. “At the very least, it was not brewed in a cauldron coated with Bulbadox Powder.” He peered at her face, his scowl deepening. “I didn’t notice that scar on your cheek at the Welcome Feast last night.”

“S-scar?” Chiara’s eyes widened in shock, her hand raised to her cheek where the long red line was etched. Indeed, it was a wound inflicted from the night before--a sharp branch from an unyielding tree drew the mark through her flesh. The initial sting from the impact suddenly multiplied itself tenfold at the memory. “I didn’t know you paid attention to these things, sir.”

“Tch.” Professor Snape stood up straight once more and cleared up his station at the front of the classroom with a wave of his wand. Then he beckoned towards the student with a hand. “Please follow me, Lobosca.”

In a manner that was almost like following a lethargic ghost drifting along, Chiara trailed behind Snape as they walked through the halls. Her skin prickled unpleasantly at every student glancing their way, but she did not look back, paid no heed to their whispers and stares. There was no reason to engage in business that was not hers to meddle in. The further away she stood from them, the better off she would be.

Eventually they reached the school’s hospital ward--a large rectangular chamber lined with beds dressed in light green covers and divided with tall curtains of a similar shade. The vibrant colours of the sunset streamed through the large windows behind the beds, casting a warm glow into the room. Chiara glanced around at all the empty beds--it wouldn’t be long before students started filling them in with Quidditch accidents and other common illnesses ailing them. Then she watched as Professor Snape approached the school matron bustling around with a tray full of medicines--a member of staff she didn’t recall attending the Welcome Feast.

“Professor Snape!” the matron exclaimed. “Didn’t expect you to come here so soon.”

“I brought a student with me here, Madam Pomfrey,” Professor Snape explained, gesturing to Chiara with a hand. “Perhaps she could explain--”

“There’s really no need, Professor,” Chiara interrupted him softly. “It’s just a scratch from a tree branch. It’s nothing to worry about.”

The matron, Madam Pomfrey, took a careful look at the girl, her stern eyes scanning over Chiara’s body almost as if she was performing an X-ray scan. “What’s your name?” she finally asked.

“Chiara Lobosca, ma’am.”

“Were you inflicted with any long-term wounds prior to last night? I was warned by Professor Dumbledore that one of the incoming first-years is a werewolf.”

Chills suddenly rooted Chiara to the spot at the sudden question, the cold tingles shooting down her limbs numbing her coherent thoughts. She nodded tersely. “Yes, I was bitten by a werewolf when I was seven. I had to run to the Forbidden Forest last night following the Welcome Feast so I wouldn’t...disturb anyone.”

At this statement, Professor Snape’s stern face suddenly morphed into a sneer, hands clenched into fists at his side. Madam Pomfrey, however, just nodded in thought--a reaction Chiara did not expect.

“I see. You are not the first student who has come here with a lycanthropic affliction,” Madam Pomfrey told her then. “And thankfully this time around we have a potential solution that could relieve the symptoms, if not cure them entirely--”

“Is there?” Chiara tilted her head a little.

“Yes, Wolfsbane Potion. It is very expensive and advanced to brew, but with the resources we have here I’m sure it would be worth it to see you succeed at Hogwarts,” Madam Pomfrey reassured her, turning towards Professor Snape who looked like he just swallowed a toad. “Is that right, Professor Snape?”

Despite the discomfort projected on the Potion Master’s face, he managed to nod. “Of course, Madam Pomfrey.”

“Now, really. We must ensure that everyone remains safe and well here regardless of what happens,” Madam Pomfrey said crossly. Then she turned back to Chiara. “I’ll heal your scars, and then Professor Snape will brew the Wolfsbane Potions for you. You must take one dose per day for a full week prior to the full moon, otherwise the potion will be ineffective.”

“What will happen by the next full moon if I do take all the doses?” Chiara asked as Madam Pomfrey waved her wand over the scars.

“I imagine you will still transform, but retain human intelligence,” Professor Snape responded.

Retain human intelligence? Chiara scrunched her face up in concern, but she knew better than to ask--no one here had had her condition and received this treatment before. She simply nodded again, turning her attention instead to the way Madam Pomfrey healed her wounds with her wand. There was definitely something enchanting about healing magic, the way it closed wounds faster than leaving them to nature and time. As the mark on her face finally faded away, she smiled ruefully as she lifted a hand to feel the newly healed skin.

“There we go--I think those are all the wounds I see,” Madam Pomfrey told her then. “And...Miss Lobosca?”

“Yes?”

“Do be careful, alright?”

She saw the concern glimmering in the matron’s eyes--the same glimmer in her parents’ eyes reminding her of how much she will always be pitied because of how different she was--and she nodded again.

“I will.”

---

The sunny day that beckoned to her a week after the visit to the Hospital Wing did nothing to ease her mind. Sitting in a shaded corner by the courtyard, her Herbology textbook propped open in her lap, Chiara watched as her peers socialized in small groups of twos and threes, reading together or playing Gobstones together, eating sweets or simply having a chat. She could see the Weasley brothers laughing by the fountain’s edge, Charlie flapping his arms almost as if he was a huge dragon with fiery breath. She could see Tulip and Andre playing Gobstones off to her right, the latter almost shrieking as the liquid from the marble squirted all over his robes and his opponent squealed in laughter. She could see Penny being bombarded by other students to talk about gossip going around the school. All of them had bright smiles on their faces--smiles that were natural, not forced out of fear.

She was once able to smile like that too. The days she spent with Selina felt like so long ago, a time that seemed to belong to someone else…

“Hey! Chiara! Catch me if you can!”

She could see her friend dashing away to their usual spot in the park--the big oak tree that stood a little ways away from the playset-- and she laughed as she ran to catch up to her, a wild laugh escaping into the air. The grass felt so soft beneath her bare feet, springing beneath her soles as if she was running atop a trampoline. A warm breeze blew past, lifting her hair and her spirits up so high--and then she finally tapped the trunk of the oak tree, dashing just past her friend at the last second.

“Gotcha!”

“Aw, not again!” Selina cried, folding her arms in mock anger. “You’ve always beat me in every foot race!”

“What can I say? I guess I’m just naturally good at it,” Chiara said with a shrug, slumping down toward the grass with a happy sigh. “Can’t believe the summer flew by so fast too.”

“Like the messenger god on swift wings,” Selina remarked in agreement. “Time plays funny tricks on all of us, it seems.”

Yes, time played funny tricks on everyone who knew no better than her. Why she even told Selina about her lycanthropy in the first place, she would never say out loud without seeing her terrified face--a face that tore into a single shriek.

“MONSTER!”

Could that really be all she was? Would anyone see her for what she can be without the light of the full moon?

There was one wound Madam Pomfrey could never heal. Chiara looked down at the scar Madam Pomfrey did not touch--the bite delivered by Fenrir Greyback when she was younger. It was sealed by other Healers with powdered silver and dittany, but it could not completely remove the damage. It was this very scar that changed her life forever. It was this scar that turned her from a simple human girl to a monster.

But things could look up here. Like everyone else in the courtyard, she was still a student. She was already contributing to Hogwarts’ legacy in some way--that had to count for something, right?

She closed her book just in time to see a toad hop over to her, a golden Dungbomb strapped onto its back gleaming in the sunlight.

“Oh, hello,” she said tentatively, shifting uncomfortably in her seat.

That was when she heard a laugh from above her, and Tulip stooped down to pick up the toad.

“Dennis, what did I tell you about hopping away so much?” Tulip reprimanded the toad lightly, scooping it up with her hand. “Next time, stay where you are, or else I can’t find you and I might panic.” She glanced over at Chiara and smiled broadly. “Thanks for helping me find my toad.”

“Huh? Oh. It’s nothing,” Chiara murmured with a nod.

Tulip eventually departed with Dennis still in hand, and Chiara sighed in relief. She couldn’t risk having another friend. She couldn’t risk getting close to anyone again.

Perhaps she would never smile like she used to again.

---

In the days that followed, Chiara found being at Hogwarts rather enjoyable. Herbology, Potions, and Charms were such fun to learn--all the Professors gave her praise whenever she did well, and encouragement when things got tough. She even decided to help Madam Pomfrey in the Hospital Wing, which the matron greatly appreciated as students began to come in with ailments all over. In some way, accepting the letter to come to Hogwarts was probably one of the best things Chiara had ever done. Here she could forget about her own troubles, even for a fleeting moment, and find a purpose here.

However, the reminder of her troubles and the next full moon eventually brought her back to reality when she was once again called to the front of the classroom by Professor Snape after lessons. As the other students filed out once more in groups of two or three, she approached the Potions Master, apprehension settling in over her face.

“Muffliato,” Professor Snape muttered, waving his wand at the door. Then he turned to Chiara. “Wait here, Lobosca.”

He briefly left the room, ducking ino hisoffice, and came back out a few moments later with a goblet in hand. “Your Wolfsbane Potion dose for today, Lobosca.”

The goblet of potion looked very unsuspecting--filled to the top with dark blue liquid and emitting light blue smoke from the surface. She tilted her head at the goblet, then looked at Professor Snape. “It’s...supposed to look like this?”

“Yes, Lobosca. Now drink it.”

It was like tasting a soiled apple pie meleed with garlic and ghost chili peppers; as the concoction slipped down her throat with every sip, she had to resist every urge to gag. She glanced up at the Potion Master from the rim of her goblet, only to see his hardened glare forcing her to drink the rest of it in one gulp.

“Unpleasant, isn’t it?”

Chiara put the goblet down delicately and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “It’s certainly...different,” she managed to say.

“Adding sugar to the potion would also render it ineffective,” Professor Snape warned her. Then he handed her a large bottle filled to the brim with the dark blue brew. “Remember, you must take one gobletful of the potion each day before the full moon. This should be enough to last you the rest of the week.”

“Yes, sir.”

---

The Wolfsbane Potion was not easy to stomach, let alone swallow, yet it was a medicine she dutifully took every morning prior to breakfast. Thankfully, no one asked her about her sudden change in morning routine. The foul taste of the potion did not stick around for very long in her mouth, either; it was easily doused with a sip of fresh ice cold water a few moments later. Still, Chiara had second thoughts about what would happen when the full moon rose. Could a werewolf really still retain human intelligence under its effects? What if the effects that she experienced weren’t what she was promised? 

Eventually, the night of the full moon came around once more. Somehow, she felt that everything she had worked up to belonged to another student that should have been sleeping soundly in her cozy bed in the dormitory, safe and sound in the castle. As she ran out into the open air once more, sprinting across the grounds towards the forest, she felt uncertainty creep up her throat, the foul taste of the Wolfsbane Potion coating her tongue in place of the bile that usually came from shortness of breath and lack of stamina. 

Running in pure joy was one thing; running out of fear was another thing entirely.

Her feet slowed as she approached the treeline of the Forbidden Forest once more, and she glanced back at the castle, at the twinkling lights from the castle windows. For some reason this time, the view gave her a small glimmer of hope. Somehow, tonight, everything was going to be fine.

Then her blue eyes widened as they soon met the luminescent glow of the full moon; her mind blanked, and she knew no more.

---

It was the sounds of birds chirping in the early morning that woke her from her deep slumber, the warmth of the sunrise seeping through her tensed cramped muscles. Chiara’s eyes slowly fluttered open, only to quickly shut again at the intense red-orange glow of the sun; she pushed herself up on her palms, the miniscule sticks and stones beneath her palms digging into her skin, and quickly surveyed her surroundings.

She seemed to be in a wooded clearing surrounded by bushes, trees with low branches serving a canopy over her head to shelter her from further dangers. Glancing around now at the forest in the day, she felt much more refreshed and energized than she ever had before following her transformations. She dusted her hands clean from the stones and sticks stuck on her palms and checked her face; there were no drying scabs, no scratches from what she could feel.

A small smile blossomed over Chiara’s face as she sat up, her eyes soon adjusted to the sunrise’s light. Somehow, she managed to make it through the night without a single murderous motive crossing her mind--what’s more, she survived without getting hurt herself. The Wolfsbane Potion truly worked after all.

“Borf!”

A chipper bark suddenly jolted Chiara up in her seat; her head whirled around now at the sound. Wherever could it be coming from?

“Borf!”

She tilted her head now at the rustling bushes to her right, a slow exhale escaping her lips. This couldn’t be one of the dangers in the Forbidden Forest now, could it?

“Borf borf!”

And out from the bushes burst a little pup with pointed ears, shining black eyes, and fluffy dark grey fur that bounced with every bound towards the girl. Its mouth turned up into a smile as it stopped by her knees, a playful gleam illuminating its eyes.

“Oh. Hello there,” Chiara murmured softly, holding a tentative hand out. “You’re a really cute little pup, aren’t you?”

“Borf!”

It didn’t seem to be in a hurry to run off. Perhaps it sensed that she was one of its kind and wanted to keep her company. Nonetheless, it didn’t seem to be a danger at all. Smiling faintly now at the memory of the first awkward encounter she had with Dennis, Chiara slowly reached out and lightly pet the pup on the head, which earned her a soft hum.

A docile wolf pup...she faintly recalled one of the Healers treating her wounds making a passing comment about werewolf pups. Werewolf pups were conceived when two werewolves mated whilst transformed under the full moon, and they were not savage beasts at all; in fact, they were known to be very intelligent and beautiful. Now she knew what they meant--indeed, they were very beautiful. And somehow, this one knew she was one of them.

Just knowing that it didn’t judge her at all for what she was made her feel immensely grateful.

Eventually, Chiara made her way back to the edge of the Forest; the sun had just about fully risen, and if she didn’t hurry she would be late for her first lesson of the day. She looked back at the Forest now, an immense wash of relief flooding her entire body--and her eyes fell upon the little wolf pup who had followed her all this way.

“Borf!” the pup called, wagging its tail excitedly once more.

Chiara chuckled as she approached the pup once more, giving him an affectionate pat on the head. “Looks like you really like me, huh?”

“Borf!”

“Well, I’ll say,” Chiara smiled. “I have to go back to the school, but I’ll see you later...Borf.”

“Borf borf!” The pup’s eyes gleamed in such an adorable way that made Chiara grin.

A light feeling enveloped Chiara’s mind and soul as she skipped through the grounds and blended in with the students now milling through the halls getting to where they needed to go. Somehow, the prospect of fitting in at Hogwarts without being judged was not as dim as she once thought it to be. In fact, there was no harm in being different--not when somewhere she could be accepted for what she could not control. 

She smiled as she headed to the Great Hall for breakfast, thankful for Borf and all the joy and hope he brought her.

In some way, he was the light she needed that lifted the shadow of doubt that haunted her past. 

[seangetfreaky]

I don't know anything about your OCs, so how about 1 and 2 for each of them? seems like a good intro. ^v^

🤩 🤩 thanks for the ask!!! here are my BABIES

[these OCs are from an original urban fantasy book/series I’m procrastinating on, in which werewolves, vampires, witches, other were-creatures, demons, and deities exist. Any terms original to my book will be explained as they come up]

Birdie Tweedie:

1: List five basic facts about your OC.

-Brigh is her real name (Scottish, like her). The nickname Birdie was given to her by her mother because Birdie was always up super early in the morning as a child and would parade around the house singing (badly) and, after first hearing the nickname, stopped singing and instead mimicked bird noises onomatopoeia-style. Since she got the nickname, she’s HATED being called Brigh except by her closest friends (ie: Kaz & Keita)

-raging lesbian with a cuuuute soft-butch girlfriend

-she only dyes her hair pastel colours

-she’s 5′6 – short for her kind– her race [werewolf] are usually 6′ minimum with 6′3 as average but that doesn’t stop her from duking it out with others when they step out of line– she’s tackled 7′4 Keita off his feet lol

-Birdie knows her strengths and weaknesses and has unwavering confidence in herself because she knows them so well– she’s really good at realizing other people’s strengths & weaknesses at a glance, too

2: Post a line of dialogue from your OC

“I tend to befriend the strays– the ‘outsiders,’ the ‘freaks,’ the ‘unsociable’– they seem pretty normal and sociable to me. You sure you’re not the problem?”

–

Keita Seiji:

1: List five basic facts about your OC

-Keita is half Japanese on his father’s side, ¼ Cree & ¼ German from his mother’s side (Cree grandmother, German-American grandfather) but most of his familial ties are with his father’s side of the family. His mother wasn’t close with her mother due to her father being an asshole (there’s a LOT of issues there– plz ask about them!!)

-super gay

-every hair on Keita’s body is bone white, void of colour due to being a Wyldling [explained at bottom of post]. If he dyes it– any of it– it will leach entirely within an hour. [dying his eyebrows black in the picture was easier than dying them white okay!!!]

-Keita has body-image and self-confidence issues due to awful scarring on his body that he obtained in an ambush that almost killed him in his early 20′s

-all of his tattoos come from his parents– flower arm-sleeves are exact replicas of his father’s (yaaaay for his dad’s witch ink-manipulation powers), lacey neck tattoo inspired by his mother’s. Whenever he looks at his arms or sees his neck in the mirror, he’s reminded of them and how they loved him enough to give everything to keep him safe

Bonus fact: Keita did ballet for about eleven years, showcasing great skill at a highly respected ballet academy, and had his heart set on becoming a principal dancer. Unfortunately, due to unforeseen circumstances, he was forced to quit at fifteen. He hasn’t had the opportunity to return to ballet school, and it’s unclear if he’ll ever get that chance.

2: Post a line of dialogue from your OC 

“I’m not good at ‘by-standering,’ okay? I went through so much shit in my life and so many people just watched, just let it fucking happen that I- I became convinced I deserved it. If you think I’m just gonna stand aside and let that happen to anybody else- then you don’t know me.”

–

Kazemir Andra-Dar:

1: List five basic facts about your OC

-Kaz is a ‘pure’-blooded vampire in the sense that both his fathers were born vampires/are born-vampires to born-vampires in a centuries-long family tree that he doesn’t give a fuck about. Being a Born vampire means he can stand sunlight if he drinks enough blood beforehand. He’s technically the prince of his clan but prefers to stay out of the spotlight

-Kaz has extremely-powerful telepathic and shape-shifting abilities (which is unusual, to have more than one); one from his dad and one from his father. His go-to animal is an itty bitty black bat that rides in Keita’s shirt pocket. He uses them for good, but mostly to prank Birdie

- 💗💜💙 bi boi with a preference for masculine-presenting people (but there’s a certain white-haired guy he’s got his eye on 🤔)

-tends to wear his heart on his sleeve & very concerned with the happiness of his friends

- has the trust if not the respect of most people he comes in contact with, due to carrying his heart on his sleeve, his bottomless empathy, and following through with even the smallest, seemingly insignificant promises he makes

2: Post a line of dialogue from your OC

“So few people have waited to see what’s beyond my face or my sexuality that I stopped taking romantic and sexual relationships seriously for a long while, and even when I did, I still settled. But I’m done with that. I deserve better than that; I deserve someone who sees me without seeing just my face.”

–

Bonus Basic Fact:

At all times, the three of them have a combined total of 4 brain cells!

3 of them belong to Birdie, but she`s usually in possession of all 4

————————————————————————–

Definitions/Lore

Born vampires/Born-Vampires: Vampires are either Born or Turned. If someone is called a Born-Vampire, it means they were born, like any other child, but as a vampire. They’re usually referred to as “a Born-Vampire.” Those who are Turned do so by either ingesting vampire venom or having it injected into their bloodstream. They’re usually referred to as “a Turned” or “a Turned Vampire.”

Wyldling: a were-creature who once lost the ties that keep all were-creatures grounded in their human half to keep them from being overcome with their animal instincts. Losing every single one of these ties turns them feral, but if they reform old ties or gain new ones, they regain some of their humanity.

One of the effects of becoming a Wyldling is some sort of loss of colour– some lose colour in their irises or their skin or their claws. Another is a surplus of strength, stamina, and durability. It’s unclear why dye applied to places void of colour bleaches back to ‘normal’ within an hour– there’s no way to stop it or slow it down or reverse it.

————————————————————————–

Send me a number/numbers for the above OCs (Keita, Birdie, Kazemir)

[solomou-andreas-itvc]

Tribal Art

To design a campaign for Survival International I feel as if it important to research into culture tribal art and how tribe use art as a form of communication. The collection of images below show traditional illustrated tribal patterns, created by designers and illustrators and well as real life artwork created by tribal people. The designs created by designers and illustrators match the typical imagery that we associate with tribal drawing, but when you look at real life drawing that tribal people ave created by hand they seem to quite different. As you can see in the images to the right these are real life paintings created by tribal people onto stone. From my research the major of artwork contains figures of people and animals. A few stone paintings contains tribal patters much like the illustrated designs as you can see in the images below. From reaching I have noticed that a lot of tribal face paints contain similar patters to the illustrated designs, I feel as of this is were that style of tribal art stems from. From my research I have jointed that the majority of tribal art are colourful and brigh, which are very eye catching and visually pleasing. A lot of the designs contain thick and thin stroke likes to create patterns and textures which all have a very hand drawn design to them, reflecting  on their original (stone and facial painting) 

[asunafairywizardessheart]

Room Service

SPECIAL CHRISTMAS PROMPT

Joel/Asana

Requested by: the Anon who requested four.

Summary: As a famous spellsinger, Joel has been asked to light the capital city’s iconic Christmas tree, and do other events. Leaving Asana alone. But, a midnight feast, courtesy of room service, finishing the night on a positive note.

An enormously large Christmas tree towered over the Central Square of the city but people from across the country had waited for this traditional day where they would turn on the lights to celebrate the coming of the festive holiday. Though this year, the lightning would be done a little differently. Joel will sing a song and use his magic to light the country’s iconic tree.

Of course, a massive Christmas festival had been set up around the event too. A stage had been erected near in the park where famous singers from across the country would belch out Christmas carols.

A flea market of stalls selling all kinds of items, Christmas and non-Christmas related items, attracted an interested crowd down by the riverwalk, stretching along the icy paved paths as far as the Ferris wheel. Rides and other fun activities were also available across the city. It is a perfect night for families, couples and just people looking to have a good time.

Snow had been swept to the side by the council, but new snow drizzled over the city and people’s feet dragged clumps of the white ice over the once cleanly swept path. Turning around to Joel, Asana smiled, “It’s such a beautiful sight. The snow drizzling above the city lights…is breathtaking,” she stared out the window, “Not to mention, the beautifully decorated city streets, it’s very Christmassy.”

Joel linked his cufflinks on his tuxedo and smiled admirably at her excitement, “The city usually spares no expense on this festival, but it is nice to witness and be apart of,” then, he hugged her from behind and kissed the nape of her neck, “But, won’t it be even better when I light up the tree with my magic under the same sky.”

She smiled brightly, “Yes, watching my husband sing to light up the tree will be very special,” she turned around to face him, “It’s the view not to miss tonight.” She straightened his bow tie and straightened his jacket, “You look so handsome, Joel.”

“I feel bad…,” he spoke his honest feelings.

“Why?” she wondered, trying not to mess up his groomed and slicked back hair.

His hand cupped her cheek and then traced the twisted locks of her long brown hair, swept over her shoulder, “Because, we’re at this festival and I have to leave you alone for one stupid song. Even now, all I have been doing is getting ready and you’re stuck in here with me…Well, not that you have to be.”

“What, and go exploring all on my own?” she laughed and wrapped her hands around his neck, “For one thing, it would feel super embarrassing being a married woman going around alone, and I’m not about to take off my ring. Second, I know you won’t let me go around alone because you always think I’m going to get hit on by other men, not discounting that woman in the bar at that music opera theatre last year. Lastly, you and I both know I’m going to get distracted and get lost.”

He smiled and wrapped his arms around her waist, “I’m glad you understand, but I still feel bad about this. You’ll be front and centre watching me right?” he put his nose on hers.

“Of course,” she giggled and kissed the top of his nose, and bobbed it with his finger, “If you truly feel guilty about not being able to spend this festival together tonight, then make it up to me through a date in the near future.”

“I think you’re becoming high maintenance, Asana,” he joked, pinching her nose in reply, “However, I think that’s very reasonable. We’ll have our own Christmas date after this.”

She giggled, “I look forward to it,” she leaned in for a kiss, but as she did there was a knock at the door. However, that did not stop Joel, he pressed his lips to hers and a male spoke from behind the door.

“Mr. Crawford. We are ready for you.”

Joel finished his kiss before he pulled away, “Yes, coming,” he answered and opened the door and turned back to Asana, “Go find a good spot to watch me.” She nodded, and then he left and she watched his back disappear down the hallway from their hotel room they were staying in for the duration of the event, and were scheduled to check out tomorrow since it ended tonight.

Racing from the hotel, she took a fire escape to reach the square faster. A sea of people, the colour spectrum of black woollen trench coats against the colourful lights of the city and the white snow drizzling from the sky and spread across the ground, filled her vision.

Effortlessly, she weaved between the people to seek a good vantage point to watch her husband in action, and deliver happiness to the people. “Wow, it’s so beautiful,” Asana admired the large tree and underneath the tree were presents which would be donated among the needy and sick these holidays.

There was a podium with a floating microphone for the MC of the festival to be heard through the crowd. People gathered rapidly, and soon the tree was surrounded by people, and reporters had taken pictures and swamped Joel with questions to the side. She watched him with a proud smile, “Hard to believe that’s my husband. I’m proud of you babe,” she whispered, hoping he heard her somehow.

Once all the formalities were done, the people cheered Joel on stage. Of course they would, he’s a famous spellsinger these days. Admiring his beautiful voice, the lights on the tree responded, and a golden veil of light enveloped the tree lighting it up. He added a twist though, and golden fireworks rang through the sky, receiving the applause and cheers from the people.

“Oh, Joel,” feeling like the happiest and proudest wife in the entire world right now, she smiled at his handsome figure shining under the lights and could feel the warmth of his magic flowing through the sky, “I am very proud of you.”

Once that was over, he had some other events to do for the city, and then he would be free to spend the rest of the festival with her. However, it all dragged on longer than he imagined, and started to worry. It wasn’t right for him to be enjoying the festival through the events he had to do as part of his job, and his wife was alone in their room.

Or so he had thought, she was alone but not in her room. She purchased a hot cup of hot chocolate and drank it alone on a park bench next to all the rides and near the ice skating rink. She wanted to go on all of them, but it did not feel right to enjoy them without Joel. As time went by, she watched the park empty and the body heat from the people disappear, followed by rides being deconstructed as the night came to an end.

Eventually, her energy wore off and she fell asleep on the park bench. One Joel was free, he returned to the room with a bouquet of flowers and a box of Christmas chocolates, “Asana, I’m very sorry-,” he looked around but the room was dark and vacant, “Asana? Are you here?” he checked their bedroom but it was still freshly made with no person within the sheets. “Don’t tell me she’s still out!” He turned to the clock which read it was quarter to one in the morning. He ran out of the room, hoping he was only overreacting and maybe she had found some old friends to catch up with, since he knew the Goldstein brothers lived in the city, so did Amelia. “Please be safe,” he worriedly whispered.

First, he searched all over the vacant central square around the tree but there was no sign of her. Then he went by the riverwalk, free of stores now the festival was over, but she wasn’t there either, and it was getting late. Worried, he sang to cast a search spell and followed the beam of light. It lead him to the park, where she was sound asleep on the bench.

Worried, he rushed over to her and shook her body, he feared something happened to her, “Asana!” he repeatedly called her name, until she eventually stirred. Finally, her pink orbs opened and she found herself staring into Joel’s eyes, but then shivered from being out in the cold for a while.

“Joel? We can go around the festival now if you’re done?” she smiled, but his heart sank.

He suddenly became torn between yelling at her for falling asleep in an unsafe area and being speaking to her gently because the festival was well and truly over. He had left his wife alone at the start of Christmas, and at an event she had been excited about to the point she waited and waited on this park bench, “Oh Asana, I’m so sorry to have left you alone like that but what were you thinking staying out here like this?”

“I was waiting for you…but you’re here now, right?” she remained positive even though he felt terrible, “We don’t need a festival to have fun, because we can make our own fun.”

“Asana…,” she grabbed his hands, but felt really cold when she stood to her feet. She let out sneeze after sneeze from being in the cold, and Joel thought it best to get her inside where it was warmer and the fire was raging. Taking off his jacket, he put it around her shoulders, “You’re right, we can make our own fun but right now, you need to warm up in front of the fire back at the room.”

Joel shivered a little now, and she felt bad about taking his jacket and stopped him from walking ahead, “Wait,” she held onto his arm and pulled herself underneath his arms and wrapped the jacket around him too, “I would feel bad if you got a cold because of me.”

He pulled her close to him, wrapping his arms around her to the point that he was carrying her and hugging her back to the room. When they got to their room, Asana laid herself on then rug in front of the fire. Then, her vision was filled with his face, and he didn’t hesitate to plant a deep yet sweet kiss on her lips, then he pulled away.

“I have the most amazing wife any man could ever ask for,” he confessed, putting his lips to hers again, “I swear I will make up for tonight. I didn’t expect them to keep me that late.”

Then, she had a bright idea in her mind, “Let’s stay in the city for the rest of the holidays and have an amazing holiday. To start off our Christmas morning, I suggest we order room service.”

Just as she mentioned it, Joel grabbed the phone and the flowers and chocolates he had purchased and rejoined her by the fire, “Hey, I got you flowers and chocolates as an apology…and I got the phone. So, what shall we order?”

“Wine, that’s a must…um…assorted chocolates…and chips and nuggets. Let’s just order everything and have fun with it.”

“This is an epic midnight snack,” Joel laughed, and ordered everything and had a early morning feast in front of the fire. The wine, however, made them quite drunk and in front of the fire, as the sun began to rise, they became very intimate.