#Amma vikings

[ivarthebadbitch]

I walk between the places.

(requested by anonymous)

[therealvikingstrash]

[procrastinatingsoicanreadfanfics]

“the women in my fandom are overhated” have you ever spoken to a hetero man that’s a vikings fan?

[underragingwaves]

Rating: General Audiences Word count: 1.5k Warnings: none, save a reference to a canon character's death Written for: day one of the @vikingsevents Vernal Equinox event, which featured the picture prompt that I used in the above banner

The spring water is colder than she’d thought. If she didn’t know better, she’d say the riverbed is still filled with ice. So cold are the shards of earth and mud that slide between her toes this morning, so cold is the slush of water that pools at her shins.

Were she any younger, she would have squeaked in distaste and rushed back out of the water. Would’ve hoped then that uncle Ubbe was not around to see her do it, too, because he never held with such nonsense and would gladly have tossed her bodily into the river just to teach another lesson. Endure, he’d say to her again, gruff-voiced and flinty-gazed, or you will die.

She sucks in a breath. Holds it until the urge to squeal over the icy feeling abates enough to leave her lungs. Repeats her uncle’s words to herself as she slowly unclenches her fists. Endure or you will die. The flowers she is holding seem to multiply in her hands while they unfold, no longer suppressed by her tight grip, blossoming forth like the very first signs of spring.

Through the cold water she wades, past trees and shrubs that’re still deciding whether a new season is really here. She sees their deliberation in some of their sparseness – like holding a breath before plunging underwater, which uncle Hvitserk taught her better than anyone – and almost smiles as she spies the yellow-green flashes of trees determined to become. This grove matters in such a way. Her being here matters on this day most of all.

The shrieking of birds arrives in her ears. Caws follow it while soft hoots underpin the noise. There’s a song in the flutter of high warbles happening over her head, almost weaving through the crown of flowers that perches atop her head. She remains silent, as is custom. It is not far now.

It is as if the walk becomes easier as the river bends. The ground is higher here, easier than the pebbles she knows litter its banks, less muddy than where she began. The trees and shrubs almost seem to lean away from the water here, where the sky turns clearer overhead and it is not just her alone in the water anymore.

“Welcome, daughter!”

“She has come, she has come, she has come!”

Birdsong turns into voices, shrieks and warbles rise from words she knows, and the water that sloshes around her feet receives its answer in the splashing sounds that arise from the water’s edge. They are all clad in a multitude of colors, embroidery on their sleeves glinting golden and silver in the sunlight, and the leather that carries their many weapons is well-worn. So close are they now that she can see the difference between axe and blade, between shield and arrow’s sheath, between one knife’s curve and the other’s thin needleprick.

Calloused fingers pluck one flower stem out of her grasp before another’s slender fingers lift a green sprig from her hands. Arms wrapped in leather protections bump against the soft white of her dress’s sleeves, not quite touching her arms but not quite releasing her either. Again the call of she has come! rises around her. Again the splash and clap of water and hands accompany the drum of the stream itself.

“Who calls?” asks the smallest of the group. “Who comes?”

She holds her tongue with some effort, though she wishes to do nothing more than say it is me, auntie Amma, I have come in response to the dark-haired woman before her. Amma stands atop the great tree that changes half of the river’s flow. Effortless is her balance, small as she is, though she too has gone barefoot. Amma’s tunic is brightest yellow, so much so that even the myriad of flowers plucked out of her hands pale in comparison to it.

“One calls,” answers her mother, regal and unsmiling near the tree’s felled roots. “One comes.”

“Name the one!”

“My daughter, Gunnlöð” – and there is pride in her mother’s voice for certain – “first of my children.”

“Child of Kattegat with blood of the Vestfold, this is so,” affirm the women who’ve taken the flowers from her hands. Their voices weave into the thrum of the water that seeps and bursts through the branches of Amma’s tree. “Daughter of Ingrid, spirit-daughter of Gunnhild, sister to us all.”

“Why have you come, Gunnlöð Ingridsdottir, Gunnlöð Gunnhildsdottir, vår søster?”

“I was called to come!” Her voice rings out without tremor or delay. “Three days there were under the sun, three nights there were beneath the moon! Thrice I have journeyed in wake and slumber, wake and slumber, wake and slumber, until the river came upon me and my bird’s cry was not alone in the silence!”

“A hawk cried to us for three days and three nights,” speak the women, nodding and clapping their hands. “Alone it was with sharp beak, alone it raked its claws, alone it flew above mountain peak and vale. We would take it for a sister, we would take it for a friend, we would take it for a shield in our wall.”

Amma’s answering smile is fierce. “What say you, Gunnlöð?”

“I say you are my blood,” she smiles back, looking around the half-moon circle of women that has formed before her. Dark-haired, light-haired, flame-haired they are. Old and young, some with children on their arm or in their belly, all smiling now that they are here. “I say you are as dear to me as the water is to the earth, as all flowers are to spring air, as the fire that burns and calls us to battle. I am yours in honor and name, if you will have me.”

“I release you,” speaks her mother calmly, cradling her belly as though Gunnlöð is inside it still before she spreads her arms wide. “I ask the wider world to take you.”

“I am the wider world,” says Amma, “and through me my sisters speak. Blood-bonded we are in battle. I give them voice and fury”– and oh, how often it thunders through Kattegat when uncle Hvitserk gets into trouble again –“and I accept the release of Gunnlöð into the arms of earth and sky.”

Gunnlöð’s breath trembles from her lungs at the affirmation. “I will know no… no f-finer shield,” she says, swallowing back the tears that have arisen at her acceptance, “than the earth’s arms and the sky’s freedom.”

“You are safe! You are here! You are ours!”

The cries sound exalted even to Gunnlöð’s ears, far different from the warning notes and coaxing lilts that echoed in them before. Her fingers shake only a fraction as she raises her hands to her flower crown and lifts it off her head.

“Maiden,” smiles Amma.

“Maiden,” echoes in the half-moon circle that surrounds her.

Gunnlöð sets the flower crown atop the water. “Maiden,” she answers, tilting her chin up. “That I am, with shield in hand. That I am, with honor in my blood.” Her grin is fierce. Her hands are bare. “That I am, bonded to no man, bonded to my many mothers and sisters.”

The murmur travels through the women. “You are welcome here.”

“Finally!” roars Amma, to a burst of laughter from the younger women. “Come here, Gunna, little love”– says her aunt, crow’s feet wrinkling her eyes in good humor as she leaps down into the river –“you did so well!”

Gunnlöð’s cheeks flush with warmth at the praise, which is echoed in her mother’s careful nod before Kattegat’s queen turns away from the water. Undoubtedly her mother will sweep toward the feast, where her uncle Hvitserk is waiting and her many cousins are likely squabbling among themselves about such a wait, but that is something for a later time.

“A grown woman now, huh?”

Gunnlöð tilts her head slightly in thought. “I don’t feel different,” she admits.

“You will,” promises Amma, knowledge softening her eyes and voice even as the enthusiastic rallying cries of the women around them rise into the spring air. “You’re a shield maiden now. It is always different then.”

“What if it will not be?”

“Pfah, what did Ubbe say to you of fear? I swear,” laughs Amma, with a hitch of grief amending the tone, “I hear him in your voice every time. Like he is standing right beside us still.”

“Endure or you will die.”

“There he is. There you are.” Her aunt’s voice is steady as an axe’s blade. “He would be so proud of you, Gunna.”

She bites her lip until the first twang of blood coats her tongue. Raises her gaze to the tops of the trees, which blur a moment before she can blink back the tears. Her hand clenches around her aunt’s slender fingers until she feels the answering squeeze.

Endure, she hears in the water’s thrum, or you will die. Never stand alone. And, Gunnla, little love, comes her uncle’s voice as from a memory, never miss.

“We are always together,” she whispers as Amma’s hand squeezes hers again. “I forget all the rest.”

[pastel0rchid]

A Gift from the Gods (3)

Hiccup x F!Reader

Word Count: 1.4K (Sorry it's short, this was a bit of a filler chapter)

Warnings: Descriptions of stitching wounds

A/N: 'Amma' means Grandmother in Old Norse. I searched this up on Google, so if somehow anybody knows Old Norse and it's incorrect, please tell me XD

Previous Chapter .~.~. Next Chapter

Stab, tug, pull.

Stab, tug, pull.

Stab, tug, pull.

These movements had become monotonous after the first few stitches. A scrap of leather placed between your gritted teeth as a muffled grunt of pain occasionally breaks the silence of the hut you had been dragged to.

Throughout the fiery agony that licks up your arm, your eyes remain squinted into a glare at the blond Viking tasked with keeping tabs on you. The rope, thankfully, remains in his hands instead of around your wrists. The elder, who you are guessing was Gothi after remembering Hiccup’s earlier conversation, would shake her staff at him when he tried walking close to you.

So now you sat in the middle of the hut, Gothi by your right side stitching up the cut while the Viking stood watch.

Her movements were precise like she had done this plenty of times to others in the village, gaze focused while she stopped stitching to wipe away the blood that flowed from the wound with each stab of the needle.

The needle had been hot when it was first stabbed into the sensitive skin around the open wound, having been held over the open flame crackling behind Gothi in the assurance of sterilizing it. The searing sting had caused a scream to be muffled by the leather clenched tightly in your mouth, a line of sweat instantly appearing on your forehead as tears prick at your lash line.

With each impale of the needle, the sharp pain slowly devolves into a dull throbbing, your cheeks having long since been dried with salty tears.

Gothi soon ties off the final stitch, lathering on that orange paste Hiccup had applied earlier, before wrapping it with a scrap of cloth.

You take a shaky breath of relief, thankful that the pain is finally over.

While Gothi turns to put away the materials she used, your eyes glance towards the hut entrance, reaching a hand up to swipe the excess moisture from your previous crying. If you could just be fast enough in spreading your wings, you could avoid the Viking and-

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, lass.”

The gruff voice of the blond Viking causes your gaze to snap over to him. He knew what you were thinking, had you truly been so obvious? You keep your eyes squinted into a glare as you look up at him from where you remain seated on the floor, your wings slowly lowering back into a relaxed position from where they had opened ever so slightly.

So that’s how he knew, you didn’t even realize that your wings had responded to your thoughts, too focused on planning your escape… which quickly slipped from your fingers like every other attempt.

“Do what?”

You snapped at him through gritted teeth, annoyance clear in your voice at every attempt to escape being thwarted by some Viking. Your voice sounded foreign to you though, hoarse from the misuse of it over the past few days and the lack of water to moisten your throat.

The Viking doesn’t seem to get angered at your irritation, he only laughs while leaning against the wall, the rope remaining in a loose grip in his hands. His dismissal of you and his relaxation show he doesn’t see you as a threat, only annoying you further.

You could feel the thrumming of your heart, displeasure flowing through your veins like molten lava, as the Viking continued to laugh like you had said the best joke he’d ever heard.

“You wouldn’t get very far,” He says with a lopsided grin under his mustache, revealing a silver tooth that glistened in the sun, “Stoick already has others waiting outside with weapons ready.”

Gothi walks back towards you, waving a dismissive hand towards the blond Viking before grabbing the elbow of your uninjured arm and tugging it to signal that she wants you to stand. Your gaze turns from the Viking to Gothi, you can’t help the way your eyes soften as you follow her orders, getting to your feet.

She reminded you of your grandmother on your mother’s side, who used to be the village elder like Gothi is.

Your thoughts are filled with memories of your grandmother.

The times she would help clean your wings when you would play too much outside with the other children. The way she always smelt of the freshly baked bread she would bring over in the mornings. Her gentle voice while she told stories of your ancestors as you sat by the fire under the starry night.

~~~

“Do you see the stars, my little spitfire?”

Your grandmother looks down at you as you sit beside her on a log by the freshly lit fire, warmth surrounding your little body as the fire pops and crackles. It was the end of a wonderful birthday, having turned five and taking your first full flight above the village with your parents.

“I do, Amma. They twinkle so prettily.”

Smiling up at your grandmother, she smiles back while her right-wing wraps around your form, a comforting move she would always do when sitting with you. Her gaze goes to the sky as she begins speaking, telling you your ancestors’ story like she would do every year on your birthday.

“Just like the gods gave us the stars, so did they give us this wonderful gift of flight.”

The story begins and ends the same every year she would tell it, but you would always listen to it with as much intent as a young girl could. This was your history, your reason for being.

She recounts how your ancestors were held captive by neighboring villages and details their nightly pleas to the gods for salvation. The night before they were going to be executed, your ancestors awoke with great pains in their backs. From the oldest of the captives to the youngest, everyone endured this quick suffering.

The gods had answered in an unexpected way, wings sprouting from their backs to aid in their escape. The captors had no idea until in the morning when they opened the cells to drag them toward their end, only to be shoved aside as they all flew off. Women carried the children that were too young while the men helped keep the elders afloat.

They flew over forests and oceans until they found a clearing surrounded by thick woods that would need an axe just to get through the bushes. It was perfect, so they set up camp and never left.

Generations go by.

Buildings get built, families get made, lives get lived.

The story ends with your grandmother looking back down at you with a smile on her lips, just like you loved listening to the story, she loved telling it.

“Our wings are a gift, my little star. We must cherish them like we do each other.”

Your mother walking over signals the end of storytime, her arms gracefully picking you up as she nuzzles her nose against your cheek. A greeting done for generations, learned from the dragons that inhabit the surrounding forest.

As your mother carries you back to the hut to sleep, you look over her shoulder towards your grandmother, waving your goodbyes as a yawn leaves your lips. Exhausted from celebrating your birthday and experiencing your first full flight, you lay your head on your mother’s shoulder, taking in her soothing scent of lavender as you drift off in her arms.

Unbeknownst to you, this would be your last birthday celebrated with your family, for a few months later, the village was attacked.

~~~

You rip yourself from the memory with quick blinks of your watery eyes. Your heart feels like it is slowly squeezed by a fist in your chest.

Why did it have to happen? Why was your family ripped from you when everyone was finally happy?

Why were you the sole survivor? Forced to be left alone.

A small tug to your elbow brings you back to the present, Gothi and the blond Viking staring at you after you had planted yourself to where you stood. Gothi watches you with a calculating gaze as you swipe your thumb against your eyes, gathering the unshed tears and flicking them away as if nothing had happened.

The blond Viking pushes himself off the wall as you begin to be dragged out of the hut by Gothi, the older woman having a surprising amount of strength for such a small physic.

“Come on, lass. It’s dinner time and Stoick is expecting your presence.”

Taglist: @spiderlily-w1tch-blog @millie--billie @persipeoni @honethatty12 @oscarissac2099 @up-l4te-4t-n1ght @morishitoshi @nctikki @vexis-world @fries11 @ddamm @ok-boke @moejoeflow

[entangledmuses]

@putyourbabyfangsaway asked: [ GO ] for the taller muse to pick up the shorter one and carry them away from a potential/just started fight. {Feel free to surprise me with your muse. Though a Vikings muse could be interesting?}

Have Amma

Amma grunted as Eric lift her up. "Put me down, I want to fight, put me down." She snapped.

This was embarrassing, she was a shield maiden, born and raised to fight. And she was a fierce fighter. Yet for some reason, he was carrying her away from the fight.

"Eric, I swear, if you do not put me down, it will be your guts on my blade." She told him, trying to wiggle free from his grip. "Do you not think I can handle it? Trust me, I can." She growled.

[ourxcountryadventure]

Arrivederci Roma

July 30, 2023

We said goodbye to Rome having spent some wonderful moments there, and embarked on our travel day, as we transition from the vacation apartment to our ship in Venice. We awoke to lovely weather again. While it is hot, it is not unbearably so and certainly no where near the weather they were experiencing the week before our arrival.

Everyone was up and at it by 7:30 am as we had the challenge of repacking our carry on bags.

We went down to our local hangout for one last time and carried away cappuccino, hot chocolate, americano and a smattering of delicacies back to the apartment to have a snack before leaving. A quick clean-up, entry in the guestbook and one last ride down the elevator fo Jules and Amma and we closed the giant doors on the Vatican Roof Garden Vacation Apartment one last time.

Mary Roma was arriving at 9:30 to take us to the airport. The driver was perfectly prompt and we were on our way in short order. At the airport it was a breeze through Very check-in but had to to check our carry ons AGAIN - Rick Steeves how do you avoid this? Security was a breeze. And soon we were sitting in the lovely airport waiting for our gate to be called. There was shopping , a grand piano that was constantly being played by talented passengers and a general air of comfort and cleanliness that we did not experience this time at Pearson.

During the plane ride we juggled our seats and Annie, Amelia and I found ourselves at the rear of the plane surrounded by a gaggle of tweens headed to a summer camp in Venice from Israel. Needless to say they were pretty excited. The flight was only an hour and so we just got up in the air and we were soon coming down. Syl and Julien saw our ship as we were descending. The view of Venice was breathtaking.

Once we arrived at Marco Polo airport, we waited a short time for our luggage and were greeted by the Viking reps immediately upon exiting. They had us all sorted and herded to the bus before we knew it. The ride to the ship on the bus was about an hour and was comfortable enough but would have been enhanced with some air conditioning.

We made it through security again before entering the Viking Sea which was docked at Chioggia. The small town was visible from the ship, but we did not take the time to go for a visit as our stay at this port was packed with plans for Venice.

Dinner at the World Cafe was delicious, time exploring the ship, a swim and sitting on our balcony were the pieces of how we closed out our travel day and the start of our next adventures.

[superspacefaith]

The Nommo from the Dogon cosmology. I keep seeing 613.

22

THEMES OF THE ANCIENT CREATION STORIES

The surface story line included some or all of the following de. ments: First, a self-created god emerges from the waters of chaos. The Dogon call this their one true god, Amma. The corresponding Egyptian god is known as Amen, and an equivalent Sumerian goddess called Nammu bears the title of Ama.Tu.An.Ki, meaning "the mother who Rave birth to heaven and earth.", This self-formed god or goddess then creates a series of godlike entities in pairs, usually eight in number. In the tradition of Heliopolis, these eight were called the Ogdoad, and included Shu and Tefnut, Geb and Nut, Isis and Osiris, and Seth and Nephthys. The members of the four pairs are usually said to be male and female or are cast as opposites, such as darkness and light or day and night. Next, the stars, planets, Earth, and moon are formed. Then, either the self-created god or one of the emergent gods creates the first man and woman, often from clay. In some cultures, the eight paired entities take on the aspect of ancestors of man, like the eight ancestors of the Dogon and the eight Anunnaki of the Sumerians. Many times these same ancestors play the role of educators who teach the skills of civilization to mankind and sometimes serve as founding members of the original families of mankind, ultimately giving birth to eighty off spring (or in some traditions like Islam, forty twin offspring). The most revered or eldest of these ancestors carry a name similar to Leve as in the Viking myths), Lebe (in the Dogon myths), or Levi (an honored hereditary title in Judaism).

The deep story line typically includes more intimate details than the suface story line about the creation of the formed universe from tie unformed universe. Typically, the unformed universe is described as Go% tie Dogon efer toiras Ammas egg that containsalloftheret

'nerens, of the world. In some cultures these signs are represchide Thelatersof thealphabet, but in others hear a simply identfrides in taeto culture. For cxample, in enderals of the son ofFar An Egres pairs of serpents and logs creation trade. In Dogonce,

стороствой Росе сине іно сомисобо ст вісто соМо ро обол

Psalm 46:1-3

God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble. Therefore we will not fear, though the earth give way and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea, though its waters roar and foam and the mountains quake with their surging.�

Psalm 118:6

The Lord is with me; I will not be afraid. What can mere mortals do to me?�

John 14:27

Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.

Isaiah 41:10

So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.�

Psalm 23:4

Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.�

Psalm 27:1

The Lord is my light and my salvation— whom shall I fear? The Lord is the stronghold of my life—of whom shall I be afraid?

[freshrunawayreview]

🕉️🤴👸👩‍🎤 💖👑⚡TGOT-Today's Calendar Talks from your King GodFather Forever🦜🦸🕺💃BBFDAY-[26/10/2022]⚡🕉️

"https://youtu.be/rfbp5JnLHeY"

"https://www.linkedin.com/posts/veera-bharat-bhushan-kaveri-795646b6_tgot-todays-calendar-talks-activity-6990946419176079360-lGET?utm_source=share&utm_medium=member_android"

"https://twitter.com/The_Junior_God/status/1585180793210830848?t=fo7xVpYpfvoufJ9WyrEf0w&s=19"

HAPPY KARTIK CALLING KARTHIK MAASAM FARHAN AKHTAR Zindagi Naa Milega Dobaara Fans Clubs MY Sruthi Vemulapalli's Shahjahaan Balaji Balasubramaniameswara Swamy Ayyappaji Kaani Paaka Vara Siddhi Vinayaka Namaha alias ADI SHAKTI MAAN's BIJA MANTRAS MAHABHARAT NAVA PRADHAMA SANKHYA NEPTUNE PRIME Number: "567" So next is 8 that arises to MY KEERTHI TUMMALA's KETONIC POLYTECHNIC POLYMER PRATHAMA SANKHYAN as Declared Today WHO, WHERE is MY KEERTHI TUMMALA[KAMMALA OF YOurs Beloved Laal Bahadur Shastri Ji Maharaj ke BaadShahon Ka BaadShah alias Yours Beloved MODERN PANDIT Jawaharlal Nehru Universities Starter, Founder The New Mega Founder Of Amazing Advanced Ultrasonic Super Duper Subjects alias ISHWAR CHANDRA VIDYASAGAR alias Sri Sri KALKI LION King VIKING King Verily Kaveri Veera Bharat Bhushan Bhagat Singh Kranti Sena Deva Sena's Balaji Balasubramaniameswara Swaminathan Alias KVHR.JR KVBB 88 100% PAKKA

["MY DOB: 15/08/1988 TODOB: 06:55 && DOD: 30/03/2114"]

which Happens to Be AMAVASYA And No AMRITA KAAL so your KAAL KAMAL KANAKADHARA Stotra Adhyayanam Rachayita Rachana Sravana Pravacahana YOGA PRAPTI RASTU Aane Abhayamiche Upcoming DhANUSHKOTI Dhanunjaya JayaSri Mango Tommy Hilfiger Bell Bottom Jeans KING VIbheeshana since 1980's Towards 2114 HENCE BORN ON 19th CENTURY BUT JUST SIGNING OFF IN 22nd CENTURY TO RETURN BACK BY 22nd CENTURY itself just Yet To Be REVEALED as OPERATION ANJI RESTARTED REBOOTED RESynergised ToDAY!! ]

Your beloved Vijaya Nirmalamma[KV KEERTHI TUMMALA'S KVBB 88 126% PAKKA]

Paper Weight Pedaraasi Peddamma MY Super LOVER Amma Whose Role Number: "8" and MY Role Number: "10" When Together Combined = "18" MAHABHARATA NAVARATNA MAHADURGA NAVRATRI MAHAA YSR Sharmila's KING VENKATADRI RAJANNA alias MY BRAHMANBARIA NANDAMURI's THE MR.TAMANNA BHATIA BOB MARLEY CHERLEY CHERRY 🍒🌸 Cumulative TOTAL: "241" PRIME QUEENS I am Looking For...Just stay Tuned For All MY THE MR.PHOTOGRAPHIC CALENDAR BASED THE KINGFISHER GEORGE GODFATHER GODSAY's OPPONENT MOHANDAS KARAMCHAND GANDHI'S ONE And Only THE MEGA ONE SREE ONE SREEMAN ADHYAAPAK MAHODHYAY Srimanthudu Sri Sri CHIRANJEEVI Sneh Prajapati Madhu Soodhana Murali Mohan RajaBabu's The Greatest PARAMATMA SAMRAT SULTAN OF Akhanda Mahabharat Raajyaon Ka MahaRajana Alias KING VIbheeshana ALLAHU AKBAR The Greatest Golden God's Ratio Analyst cum KING OF KINGS OF DASHAVATARS OF ALL KINGDOMs of KITHS AND KINS Since 1988 towards 2029 towards HYPER CUBE Eternity ♾️

MJTYST: "06:55"-10:55"-11:55-12:14-

12-16"-12:55-"13:33-13:34-13:37-13:55"++ IST ON 10/10/2022-"26/10/2022"

[ivarthebadbitch]

Shieldmaiden, beloved by the gods.

[therealvikingstrash]

Entry for @vikingsevents Winter Solstice, Day 2: Fireplace

[ivarswickedqueen]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY LIS

My dear friend @lisinfleur​​ celebrates her birthday today and here is my little gift for this amazing friend of mine ♥  I love you and I am happy and honored that I can call you my friend, babe ♥ 

Paring: Amma x Hvitserk Word account: 3285 Warning: none, oh there are spoilers for 6B, so if you didn’t watch it don’t read it ;) 

Amma was sharpening her sword and her arrowheads and she was afraid to go to sleep, because tomorrow there will be a huge battle between her people and Rus army led by Oleg the Prophet. She has never seen this man, but she heard enough stories about him to fear the day when he could possibly walk into the Kattegat as its new ruler. She also heard that prince Hvitserk Ragnarsson is marching with the Rus army alongside his younger brother Ivar and she didn’t know, what to think about it. The last time she saw Hvitserk was when his own brother Björn wanted to burn him alive because he killed his mother - the most famous shield-maiden in the world - Lagertha. But his other brother Ubbe saved him on Björn’s command and Björn casted him out of Kattegat for good, shouting these horrible words to his face: “I saved you. And do you want to know why I saved you? Because I know you were happy to die. But I don't want you to be happy. No. I don't want you to enter Odin's Hall. I want you to suffer a living death, expelled from Kattegat and the haunts of men, destined to die in a ditch in some forest somewhere, utterly forgotten, wretched, insignificant, unmemorable! Like a flea on a sheep's back. Take him away! He won't survive the winter.” That day Amma couldn’t help herself and she felt so sorry for him. She spent so many days with the young prince. She watched him, when he was sleeping, shivering and murmuring nonsense words under his nose, trembling because he was an addict. He was obviously addicted to mushrooms and his brothers didn’t care enough to help him through the rough times. She knew why he started escaping his problems in the alternate realities created by the mushrooms in his system. His brother Ivar treated him like a dog and mocked him in front of everyone for a very long time, making him feel like a shit even though Hvitserk jumped ship for him and abandoned his beloved brother Ubbe. And when he found someone who finally made him happy, a beautiful girl named Thora, Ivar burned her and her whole family alive. And it was second of Hvitserk lovers who found death in his younger brother’s arms. The slave girl Margrethe was murdered by Ivar’s men even though he never admitted that publicly. Hvitserk suffered so much and he had nobody to care about him so he became this pitiful wreck of human being. She was trying to help him. She tried her best to keep him home, away from the drug dealers. She tried to make him eat properly and drink less ale, but he was stubborn and she had her own duties so she couldn’t be there for him all day. She felt so sad when she found him high as a kite every evening when she came back to the great hall, he was calling Thora’s name, saying the words full of love to someone who was long gone. He saw her everywhere, her burnt body telling him to kill Ivar, to avenge her, but he couldn't do anything, he was scared of Ivar, he was losing his mind and he saw him everywhere. Every shadow in his mind was Ivar, ever strange sound from outside was Ivar, slowly crawling to him, intending to finish him. He was slowly losing his mind and there was nothing she could do to help him.

But the real hell broke loose when he killed Lagertha. She couldn’t help him anymore. She was crying her eyes out when they took him away, tied him up to the stake and lit the fire under him.

But she quickly wiped out her eyes, when he was saved and casted out of the town. She quickly ran to her cabin, she took some food into a bag and few warm furs and clean male clothes that belonged to her brother, she also took one of her old swords and she quickly and quietly run to the woods. She knew that she will find Hvitserk there somewhere. He had nowhere else to run.

She found him after few minutes, trembling under a big tree. She gave him the dry clothes; she wrapped him into the warm furs and lit a fire. She cuddled closer to him, trying to warm him up because he was still trembling. She spent the night in his arms, feeling him hugging her tightly like if his life depended on it. Next morning she gave him the bag with food into one hand and the sword into another and with heavy heart she sent him on his way. She wanted to go with him, but she knew that her brothers would start looking for her soon and she didn’t want to cause him more troubles. And he didn’t show any interest for her to go with him. He seemed like he didn’t care what is going to happen to him. She watched him until he disappeared behind the horizon, thinking that it’s the last time when she saw his face.

And now he is back, leading the Rus army towards Kattegat. He obviously survived the cold winter and met Ivar in the woods. She was more than surprised when she heard that he is with Ivar again. She clearly remembered his terrified face when someone only mentioned Ivar’s name in front of him. Something obviously changed. She was wondering why he came back and for a very brief moment she let herself believe that he came back for her, but it was nonsense. He probably already forgot her face… He came back because he wanted revenge, he wanted to show Björn and Ubbe, that he was still worth something. That he is not some pathetic excuse for a human being. Amma finally put her sword down and changed her clothes and went to bed, trying to get some sleep before the big fight. She wasn’t very successful because she couldn’t fall asleep until four in the morning, Hvitserk’s face kept popping in front of her eyes, making her feel excited and frustrated, because she shouldn’t feel something like this for an enemy.

In the middle of the battle

Amma felt like if this battle took forever. It seemed to her like if it was days ago since Björn rode into the battle on his horse, mortally injured, leading his people into the battle for the last time. It felt like years ago, when her eyes found Hvitserk standing next to Oleg and Ivar. He looked so much better than the last time she saw him. He gained some weight, his hair were clean and braided again, he was sitting astride on his horse, looking majestic, looking around him with clear, intelligent and sober eyes. She could see that his eyes were green again, the blood stains were gone and so were his inner demons. His lips were no longer quivering. He looked again like a mighty warrior and she stopped worrying about him being easily striked down by the defending soldiers. She stopped worrying about him hours ago and right now she started worrying about herself. She was trained shield-maiden, but her arms were becoming weaker and weaker with every hit from their enemies. She let out a frustrated scream and stabbed her sword through the heart of the nearest fighter. But seconds later another two started banging their swords on her shield and she felt that her arms will give up on her soon if she won’t retreat. But she wasn’t a coward, she would stand her ground and fight until her last breath.  She fell on her knees and the bangs falling on her shield became louder and harder. She felt that her shield started slipping out of her hand and she had no control over it anymore. She closed her eyes and prepared herself for the final blow, but it never came. She heard someone shouted above her, and when she opened her eyes again, she saw Hvitserk standing above her, yelling commands and pushing those two soldiers away from her kneeling form.

“Can you stand up?” he asked her and she nodded shakily. Hvitserk’s strong arm pulled her up, but her trembling legs failed her and if he didn’t catch her, she would fall down on the ground again. “I will take care of you this time, sweet Amma,” he said softly and carefully took her away from the battle field in his strong arms, into one of the healing tents. He gently put her down on the bed and shouted at the healers to take care of her. He stepped aside and let the healers do their work, his eyes never leaving her small body. “You can go Prince Hvitserk, we will take care of her,” one of the healers assured him, but he didn’t move. He wanted to personally make sure, that she is OK. It seemed like he didn’t even care what is going on outside the tent. Amma lost her conscience couple times and then she fell asleep. When she woke up she was alone. Or at least she thought that she is alone until she heard angry voices yelling outside the tent. “Where the hell have you been?” Ivar yelled at someone and she shivered. “I just needed to make sure that she is OK, Ivar!” Hvitserk answered, his voice also full of anger. “Who is she? Who are you hiding inside that tent?” Ivar asked again and tried to step inside the tent but Hvitserk stopped him. “Don’t you dare to go inside, don’t you dare to go anywhere near her!” he shouted, obviously trying to stop his brother to go anywhere near Amma. “Listen to me Ivar, I care about this girl, she is the reason why I am still alive. She helped me to survive my darkest days and without her I would never be able to make it to the woods where you found me. I owe her my life! So listen to me very carefully little brother! If anything wrong going to happen to her by your hand , I will hunt you down and blood eagle you on the nearest tree, letting you there as a feast for the crows, do you understand me!!!” he growled the last words. She couldn’t hear Ivar’s answer, but it seemed like he simply nodded, surprised by his brother's sudden burst of protective words. Amma didn’t have time to think about everything she just overheard, because Hvitserk stepped inside the tent and rushed to her, when he noticed that she is awake. “How do you feel Amma?” he asked her, obviously worried if she is OK. “Tired, but happy that I didn’t enter Valhalla today,” she said with light smile and couldn’t take her eyes from his face. She only knew the addicted version of him, and his sober face was much more beautiful and lovable. “Why are you staring at me?” he laughed and gently tucked a strand of her brown hair behind her ear. “You are so handsome, when you are sober,” she blurted and quickly covered her mouth with her injured hand, wincing in pain. “I am so sorry, prince Hvitserk,” she mumbled but he took her hand gently into his and smiled at her bitterly. “My dear Amma, you have every right to tell me the truth into my eyes. You saw me at my lowest point and you didn’t abandon me in those terrible dark times. You were the only light and warmth that kept me alive those days. But I wasn’t aware of it back then. I pushed you away, I yelled at you, I called you names, I refused your help and continued my road to my own destruction. But when Björn kicked me out of Kattegat and when the drugs got out of my system, I started seeing things clearly. I remembered everything. I remembered your encouraging words, telling me, that I can get through the darkness surrounding me, your sweet voice telling me that you believe in me, that you believe I can become the man who I used to be. It was you who made sure that I ate a warm meal every day, it was you, who helped me to lie down on bed and take off my clothes and shoes when I was too drunk to do it on my own. It was you, who was holding me when the nightmares and hallucinations surrounded me in the middle of the night or day. And most importantly, it was you who gave me warms clothes, food and weapon when my own family abandoned me and let me die in the woods. I will never forget that, my sweet, little, caring Amma. I was thinking about you a lot when I was in Kyiv. I was wondering what you were doing. I was worried If Björn hadn’t found out that you helped me and punished you for it. I was wondering if you are still single or if you found a fine man and gave him your heart,” he finally looked at her after his long speech, his eyes full of tears, guilt and love. He left her speechless, but she couldn’t say a word even if she could because he quickly continued. “Amma, I know that I wasn’t very kind to you. You witnessed the worst in me and you stayed by my side the whole time. I would love to show you my better side. I would like to show you the real Hvitserk, son of the great Ragnar Lothbrok. I would love to give you all my love and respect. I would love to cherish you, protect you and take care of you until my last breath. If you let me, my little sweet, courageous shield-maiden,” he smiled nervously and looked at her with so much hope in his beautiful green eyes that all she could do was nod her head and smile kindly at him. She was overwhelmed by his unexpected confession and by her own feelings, because she realized, that she was in love with him for a very long time and that she could be never happy without him. Hvitserk’s face lit with the brightest smile she has ever seen on it and gently kissed her forehead.  

Oleg the Prophet lost the battle and they had to retreat back to Kyiv and Amma didn’t have to think twice about it and left with them, never leaving Hvitserk’s side. She helped Ivar, Katia and Hvitserk to get Igor out of Kyiv and then she came back to Kattegat with the brothers. She didn’t expect warm welcome, especially when she heard that Gunnhild died. And she was right, people were hostile to her, because they saw her as a traitor. She wasn’t son of Ragnar so people of Kattegat did not forgive her so easily. So when Hvitserk told her that he would like to go with Ivar and Harald to go raiding in Anglia and to defeat young king Alfred, she didn’t hesitate and left Kattegat with both brothers. She was excited about the new adventure and about the new lands, but nothing went as they planned. Alfred won the battle and Ivar was stabbed to death and Hvitserk was seriously injured. They were both standing above Ivar’s grave, Amma was silent and let Hvitserk “speak” with his little brother for the last time.

“You don't know this, but you saved my life so many times. And one day, when we meet again, I can thank you. After all, one way or the other, none of us really lived a simple or ordinary life. And who wants to live an ordinary life? So enjoy Valhalla, brother, while it still exists. We can all see the sky darkening. We can all see the Twilight of the Gods. And I trust to be with you in that great defeat. So, hail and farewell, my brother. I wish I had something important to leave on your grave, but I sold my arm-ring to the drug dealer,” Hvitserk ended his speech sadly and Amma quickly started rummaging in her bag. She quietly walked to Hvitserk and put her small hand on his strong shoulder. He looked at her sadly and she took his hand and put something shining into it. “What is that?” he asked and looked at her in disbelieve. “It’s your arm-ring, my love. I bought it back from the drug dealer. One night I noticed that you no are longer wearing it and I asked you about it. You told me, that you sold it and I went back there and bought it back from that dirty scumbag. I thought that you would like it back one day,” she said softly and gave him a small sad smile.  Hvitserk gaped at her, lost for words, feeling another wave of strong love for this little woman. He kissed her hand lovingly, unable to say anything, overwhelmed by his love for her and great sadness of losing his beloved brother.

1 year later

Hvitserk was coming back from one of the successful raids in East Anglia. After Ivar’s funeral he and Amma managed to escape from Alfred and they found safe haven in small kingdom whose king was Ragnar’s old ally and he welcomed his son with open arms. Hvitserk never wanted to be king and rule over lands or to be the most famous Viking who ever lived like Ivar. He wanted to find new lands like Björn when he was younger, but it didn’t interest him anymore. He didn’t want to be a farmer and settler like Ubbe. He wanted a simple Viking life. He wanted to raid, enjoy the rush of a battle, defeat his enemies, gain new lands for his king and after the successful raid go back to his home and find a loving woman inside, waiting for his arrival. He opened the wooden door of his house and smiled happily when Amma jump on her feet, rushing to him as fast as the huge belly allowed her to. “Hello, my love. How was the raid?” she asked him after she welcomed him with a long tender kiss. “Successful, the slaves will bring my share tomorrow. But tell me, how is my little boy doing?” he asked lovingly and gently stroked her belly. “He was a good little boy, but he is like his father, always hungry. I ate almost everything I found here,” she pouted and Hvitserk chuckled happily. “Ok, give me few minutes and I will get you more food from the market,” he winked at her, ready to rush out and buy some food and quickly return back home to her. “No need to rush, my love. Me and little Ivar will wait for you here,” she said softly and he looked at her surprised. “You want to name him Ivar?” he asked her with trembling voice, clearly moved by her suggestion. “If you agree, it would be an honor for our son to be named after his fearless, strong, intelligent uncle, who meant so much for his father,” she said and Hvitserk quickly walked to her and kissed her lovingly, caressing her cheeks with his thumbs. “I love you so much Amma,” he confessed. “I love you too, my sweet Hvitserk,” she smiled happily and her stomach made a loud noise. “Alright, alright, I am going for the food, don’t worry son,” Hvitserk chuckled and left the cabin, happier than any of his family members were in long decades.

[underragingwaves]

Rating: Teen & Up Audiences Word count: 1.4k Warnings: incest, mention of suicidal ideation Written for: day five of the @vikingsevents Vernal Equinox event, which featured the picture prompt that I used in the above banner. A bit later than planned due to a bit of a writer's block that has been resolved with the help of friends. (Y'all know who you are, merci. 💕) Also, this is a modern AU because reasons.

“Ow!”

“Don’t be such a baby!”

“I’m not,” says Hvitserk, pouting with hurt and cradling his stinging hand against his chest. “You’re being mean to me. Ubbe”– he demands in the next moment –“tell her she’s being mean!”

His older brother heaves a sigh. Stretches his legs out so far that he has to slide down in his seat just a bit. “You’re being mean,” says Ubbe, tapping Amma’s shin with his bare foot. His grin broadens far too much for Hvitserk’s liking. “Just so you know.”

Amma huffs. “Enabler.”

“Me?” Ubbe raises his hands as if surrendering. “I’m not doing anything.”

“Except what he tells you to,” snipes Amma, jerking her chin at Hvitserk, “and indulging that bratty behavior of his to boot while I’m standing here working my ass off – no, that is not an invitation to ogle my ass or touch it”– she snaps out, swatting Ubbe’s reaching hand away and dancing out of his reach too expertly –“and neither one of you has lifted so much as a finger to help me.”

“I wanted to help!”

“You nearly set yourself on fire!”

Hvitserk blinks rapidly. Glances down at the section of the table Amma just slapped him away from. Sure enough, there is a burning candle that he’s pretty sure wasn’t there a minute ago. Or, well, he’s sure that it might have been there but he definitely did not register it being there – let alone saw its flame – and so he heaves a sigh and fixes Amma with his best apologetic look.

“Stop it.”

“Are you…” Ubbe actually leans forward in his seat, looking perturbed and interested all at once. “Are you trying to give Amma your best puppy eyes?”

Hvitserk inhales. Nods vigorously in response.

He scowls when Ubbe’s initial chuckle of mirth erupts into a full-blown laugh. Gods help him, his brother actually snorts and grins broader than Hvitserk’s seen him do in at least four months.

“It’s not that funny,” says Hvitserk, pouting all the worse for it.

“Ha!” Ubbe’s nose wrinkles, amused, when he leans back in his seat again and gestures airily at Hvitserk. “No, really, keep going, I want to see her crack and do unspeakable violence to you.”

“She wouldn’t!”

“She would!”

“She definitely would,” says Ubbe with no small degree of relish as Amma’s snap lands an octave higher than her usual ire. “Keep going, brother, and she’s going to mix something else into that herbal tea…”

“Don’t be stupid, Ubbe, these herbs leave traces. And we’re making a compress, not a tea, because somebody here doesn’t know when to call it quits on the free parkour or whatever the fuck that was.” She shakes her head, multi-colored braids swinging to and fro as she emphasizes her discontent, and fixes Hvitserk with a stare that is eerily reminiscent of the looks his mother gives him when he’s shit outta luck and needs to start counting to ten. “What on earth were you thinking, climbing that tree and then attempting to jump to the other tree? Oh, let’s see all the ways I can kill myself today?”

“I wasn’t going to kill myself,” sulks Hvitserk, “not in front of the dog, anyway.” He bites his lip as Ubbe’s stare suddenly turns a good deal darker than usual. Hvitserk’s the first to look away, as he always is these days since… No. Not since anything. “I just… got the distance wrong. Like when I was out skating”– he explains –“and I flipped the wrong way on the pipe and boom. Happens.” He shrugs. Hisses as the movement sends a sharp, searing pain through his shoulder. “I’m not used to trees.”

“No shit, Sherlock,” rumbles his brother, in such a way that Hvitserk full well knows there is a more-or-less affectionate eyeroll attached to the words.

“City boy,” hums Amma good-naturedly as her hands deftly ground some of the herbs into a fine pulver. “However did you survive all these summers in Kattegat, hm?”

“Luck,” offers Hvitserk, though Ubbe’s “me!” rings out louder.

Amma’s smile dimples her cheeks. “Bit of both, maybe,” she concedes, heading off any sort of would-be argument with a well-practiced air. “Honestly, though, Ubbe, you picked a fight with a sheep only yesterday. Seems like you’ve got a thing or two…”

“Hey, that sheep is evil.”

“Mister Fluffers?” gasps Hvitserk, chancing a glance at Ubbe’s rather impassive face now. “You dare speak such things about the Supreme Lord of Woolgathering?”

“The fucking what now?” asks Ubbe, raising his voice over Amma’s wild cackle of laughter that makes Hvitserk grin too. “Hvitserk! You called it what?”

“Oi, Sigurd wanted to name it Patrocles,” says Hvitserk rather sourly, “and Ivar wanted to kill it and name it Mutton Chop retroactively. Because, you know, our gay brother and our psycho brother are totally normal people who can be trusted to name a sheep.”

“And you called it”– glares Ubbe –“Mister Fluffers, Supreme Lord of Woolgathering, instead?”

“King of the Silent Lambs, Master of Pufferjackets,” adds Hvitserk, rather unhelpfully, “First of his Name, Guardian of Feta Cheese. It had to be named something and you were… not here,” he finishes lamely, knowing exactly where Ubbe had been. “Someone had to…”

“Gods spare me.”

Hvitserk fidgets. “You don’t like it?”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” interjects Amma, “we’re not doing this. Nope. I’m not listening to either one of you waffling on about what name was given to this sheep as if you’re picking the name of your firstborn child.” She tosses a bundle of herbs at Ubbe. “Pluck,” she instructs, “leaves and flowers off the stems. Please.”

“Don’t I get…”

“Here,” sighs Amma, moving around the table and pressing a mortar and pestle into Hvitserk’s hands before unceremoniously dropping flowers in his lap. “Crush them best you can, hm? You’ll likely smell like roses and arnica for a bit, though.”

“Arnica?”

“The yellow ones,” mouths Ubbe, already diligently plucking away at lavender and other herbs Hvitserk doesn’t know how to name. His brother’s frown is very apparent as he looks at Amma. “Are you sure this will help?”

“He’s already taken a painkiller,” says Amma, shrugging, “and Ingrid makes these herbal compresses all the time when she’s got a moment to spare. She made me help too many times. Seen it work just as many times, though. It’ll work for him.”

“I’m fine,” grounds Hvitserk out, though the act of slowly grinding the petals is sending fresh aches down his arm. “Just… need to…” His cheeks flush with warmth as Ubbe and Amma fix him with twin stares. “You’re creeping me out, doing that.”

Amma’s brow arches. “You’re in pain.”

Ubbe’s flinch is barely perceptible, but Hvitserk has grown too accustomed to registering his brother’s every move by now. There’s a bruise on his hip the size of Ubbe’s hand, give or take, and he isn’t entirely sure how Ubbe thinks they’re going to hide that detail from Amma when she finally sees the damage the tree and then the ground did to the rest of him. He can’t even ask Ubbe about how to talk around it, now, because she’s been right there since he climbed that damn tree to get away from… from…

“I’m fine,” he says again, swallowing the taste of his brother’s lips back down into the roiling pit of his belly. Hvitserk fidgets in his seat. “Let’s just.. get this done. And Ubbe can help me put it on, later.”

“Scared I’ll do unspeakable things to you when you’re shirtless, little waffle?” leers Amma, using the stupid childhood nickname she gave him years ago when they first visited the farm. She shakes her head. Wrinkles her nose for good measure. “You ain’t my type. Nor you,” she adds, nudging Ubbe’s foot with her own. “I’ve sworn off all men, you know.”

“Your greatest victory is our biggest tragedy,” grins Ubbe, handing her the separated flowers and leaves one by one. “How’s Thora faring these days, hm? Still bullying Ivar every chance she gets?”

“Someone has to,” snorts Amma. “That man is the very definition of play stupid games, win stupid prizes. Did I tell you about the time he had gotten it into his thick sku–”

Thanks, mouths Hvitserk wordlessly, meeting Ubbe’s eyes and maintaining that contact for the first time since this morning. His cheeks color an even deeper red by the feeling of heat that rushes through him at his brother’s patient, unwavering gaze. Were they alone…

Later, gestures Ubbe behind Amma’s back, smiling that soft smile that he somehow always manages to reserve only for Hvitserk while also tilting his head and humming along in all the right places with Amma’s long tale about Ivar, Thora, and a wild horse. Ubbe’s eyes never leave Hvitserk’s face. When it’s just us.

Hvitserk is the first to look away.

[honestsycrets]

Amma.

[castvikings]

Amma & Gunnhild

[entangledmuses]

MOBILE MUSES- CANON

By Fandom

9-1-1: Lucy Donato

The ARTFUL DODGER: Belle Fox

BAD BOYS: Kelly Lewis

BITTEN: Elena Michaels BRIDGERTON: Daphne Bridgerton                                                     Kate Sheffield/Sharma Sophie Beckett

BUFFY/ANGEL: Cordelia Chase                                                          

CRAZY RICH ASIANS: Astrid Leong

DCEU Harley Quinn (Selective) Dawn Granger

DIVERGENT Christina

FANTASTIC BEASTS Lally Hicks

FEAR STREET Cindy Berman

GAME OF THRONES: Margaery Tyrell

HANSEL AND GRETEL:WITCH HUNTERS: Gretel (With AU verses)

HARRY POTTER: Astoria Greengrass          Demelza Robbins                     Ginny Weasley Hermione Granger          Padma Patil                                                           Parvati Patil Pansy Parkinson                 Victoire Weasley     Lily Evans/Potter      Rowena Ravenclaw                                       

HEMLOCK GROVE: Letha Godfrey

The HOST: Melanie Stryder

HUNGER GAMES: Madge Undersee

JAMES BOND: Paloma

Jurrasic World: Claire Dearing

KINGSMAN: Roxy Morton

LAST KINGDOM: Eadith of Mercia

LITTLE WOMEN: Amy March

LOCKWOOD AND CO: Lucy Carlyle

MCU: Maria Hill Michelle ‘MJ’ Jones                                               Natasha Romanoff Sharon Carter              Yelena Belova

The MUMMY: Evelyn Carnaham

MUSKETEERS: Anne of Austria Constance Bonacieux

MYTH/LEGEND/LORE: Amphitrite (Greek)                                                 Artemis/Autumn (Greek) Hera/Helena (Greek)               Persephone (Greek)            Athena (Greek) Aphrodite (Greek)      Mina Harker (Dracula) Guinevere (Arthurian)

NARNIA: Susan Pevensie

OUTER BANKS: Kiara Carrera

REACHER: Karla Dixon

REIGN: Mary Stuart Lola Narcisse

ROBIN HOOD (BBC): Marian of Knighton

The ROOKIE: Bailey Nune Grace Sawyer Lucy Chen

SECRET CIRCLE: Diana Meade (Book based)

SHADOWHUNTERS: Sophie Collins (Infernal Devices) Tessa Gray (Infernal Devices)           Izzy Lightwood (Show based)

SHAMELESS: Fiona Gallagher

The SOCIETY Helena Wu Kelly Aldrich

STRANGER THINGS: Chrissy Cunningham Nancy Wheeler

SUPERNATURAL: Bela Talbot                                         Claire Novak Lisa Braeden                                     Jo Harvelle Donna Hanscum        Sarah Blake      

TEEN WOLF: Braeden Lydia Martin             Hayden Romero Cora Hale Laura Hale

THE SUMMER I TURNED PRETTY: Belly Conklin Taylor Jewel

TRUE BLOOD: Jessica Hamby                           Nora Gainesborough Sookie Stackhouse

VAMPIRE ACADEMY: Jill Mastrano - Dragomir Lissa Dragomir Rose Hathaway                       Sydney Sage

VAMPIRE DIARIES: Bonnie Bennett Caroline Forbes Katherine Pierce Rebekah Mikaelson

VIKINGS: Amma Katia Lagertha

WEDNESDAY: Wednesday Addams

The WITCHER: Yennefer of Vengerberg

+++++++

SINGLE SHIPS: Rose Larkin Clarice Fong Emma Brunner Connie Matthews Ariel Megara Alice Chambers Zoey Miller