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writerleo86 · 4 months

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Terravenger Season 6 - The Twilight Arc - Episode 523 (Do Not Copy) - 02.28.2024

Somewhere on the shining Moon, the large lock made of hard steel was opened. The door to a small compartment made with pure light had also opened. And someone rose from inside the unlocked prison starting with their right hand.

After stepping out of the compartment, the prisoner rose their head. This being was revealed as the tall female humanoid known as Kinockee. She had light skin, piercing blue eyes, and a bald head. She wore a long-sleeved gray shirt that lowered past her waist. And she had on a pair of tight gray pants.

The emotionless woman spotted another person standing before her who was revealed as the young magician called Scry.

He greeted "Welcome back to the living."

Kinockee placed her left hand on her forehead as she asked in a deep husky but smooth voice "Where am I? And who are you?"

Tears began dropping from his clear eyes as Scry answered "You are awake, Mother."

Kinockee looked into the eyes of the relieved youth until she opened her mouth with disbelief.

Scry informed her "You have work that you must complete. This is a direct order from our great lord."

Then Kinockee gave a soft smile as she stared at the beautiful face of the smiling teen.

She finally shook her head and answered "Yes. I must collect vessels for my king, my dear Mephistopheles."

Some time later, Scry was pushed to the end of the large throne room as the angered Mephistopheles rose from his large chair at the other side.

Scry lowered his head in disbelief as his leader yelled "You had released her from her hold without my permission?"

The fearful Scry faced him while crying "I didn't know! I thought it was you! You gave me the order to release Kinockee!"

"Apparently you were deceived!" claimed Mephistopheles. "I never would have released the doctor from her grave unless I had other choice!"

The scared Scry lowered his head once again as Mephistopheles added "I would have gone to retrieve her myself! How could you let this happen?"

"But who?" questioned Scry. "Who would do this? Who would risk your wrath?"

The unleashed Mephistopheles continued staring at his follower until he lowered his head with calmness.

He implied "The only person with that much malicious and fortitude to make such an error is Him. Only he is able to change shape other than myself."

And the leader roared "GORAN!"

The door opened and another person walked to the left side of the fallen Scry. It was the charming man known as Goran. He wore a collared white shirt with a fancy black tie around his neck. And placed underneath the knot of his tie was a white skull crest. He also had on a black suit consisting of a coat and pants. And he wore black dress-shoes over his black socks covering his feet.

"My lord?" answered Goran.

Mephistopheles ordered "You and Barbarus will find and bring him before me! The deceiver Thomas Faust!"

And Goran bowed his head as he said "Certainly."

Standing at the front of the secured mansion outside of Midas City, the seer Leo stood with his two followers who remained at each side -- Kiona Dupree and Darrin Sebastian.

Leo gave a daring smile and said "Let us begin."

Terravenger -- Season 6

Episode 523: Twilight -- The Dedicated Friend

Many years ago, a younger Cutter Evans stood at the front of a large building which had barbed wire around the roof.

Cutter had a younger and puffy face. And he had neither a beard or earrings. His blond hair was still short, but it was lowered. And he wore a pair of clear eyeglasses. He had worn a light-gray outfit that consists of a short-sleeved top with a white T-shirt underneath and long pants. He also wore white socks, dark-blue slippers, and a red backpack. And his golden tattoo was freshly printed on his left shoulder.

He spotted another person standing before him as the gates that led out of the area slowly opened.

This was a slender boy with fair skin and brown eyes. He also had short and wavy brown hair. He had on a white T-shirt with a V-neck collar. He wore dark-blue jeans with a thick black belt that had a squared silver buckle. He also had on a pair of gray socks and white shoes. And he wore an opened pale-brown coat with long sleeves.

The slender boy called "Joshua Evans?"

Cutter walked a few steps forward as he asked "Who the hell are you?"

The brown-haired boy gave a soft smile as he kept his hands in the pockets of his pants.

"Did my dad sent you here?" cried Cutter.

And the other boy responded "The judge did actually. He wanted to make sure you'd stay outta trouble for now on."

Young Cutter lowered his head and commented "She's really trying to keep me locked up."

"It ain't like that,"

Then Cutter faced him as the boy replied "The judge just wants you to be on the straight and narrow. Yer still battlin' drugs. I'm only here to help."

Cutter gave a short chuckle and asked "What else did the judge tell you?"

"You come from a broken home," implied the boy. "Yer folks had you as teens. Yer dad did whatever he did to get ya away from yer mom and step-dad. They were on drugs too."

After that, an emotionless Cutter lowered his head once again.

The other boy added "I heard yer mom sold yer computers and games for whatever she got from the streets. And once yer dad found out yer step-dad tried to sell you, yer dad did what he could to get sole custody of you."

Tears began falling from Cutter's eyes as the boy told him "The reason they locked you in juvie for that long was because the cops found drugs in yer locker that was dangerous."

The tears continued falling to the ground as the emotional Cutter fell to his knees. The other boy hurried down to him. And the boy placed his right hand on the left shoulder of the hurt Cutter.

"It's okay Man," said the boy. "I'm here for you. I'm gonna help put yourself back together."

Cutter continued to cry as the other boy wrapped his arms around the sad boy.

The timid Duo rose his head from a comfortable platform. He soon looked around and found himself inside a small room that had a lit candle hanging from the top of each wall.

The boy wore a white T-shirt with the white skull crest printed on its front left side. He also had on a pair of light-gray pants, gray socks, and white shoes.

Duo walked toward the locked door that remained at his right side. Then he tried to knock the door of steel door using his fists.

After that, the youth spotted a passageway which was at the other side of the room. He walked through the dark hall as he looked at his surroundings. He soon traveled from the stairway to a higher floor. Then he continued walking forward and found a closed door before him.

Once he searched around once again, the determined Duo opened the door. He walked inside and discovered that he stood in a larger room which seemed to be inside a tower.

He asked "What is this place?"

The quiet youth began to walk forward while he continued searching around. Duo soon spotted something sitting on a wooden chair across from him. And Duo walked a few steps away as fear appeared on his face.

Placed on the chair was the cold body of a young man with fine skin and a well-built body. He wore a buttoned scarlet shirt with a great collar and sleeves that lowered toward his wrists. And covering his wrists were thick dark-brown bracelets. The body also had on thick black dress-pants, dark-brown socks, and black slip-on shoes.

After discovering the head was blown from the top of the body, Duo backed onto another body with its wrists chained to shackles that lowered from the top of the wall behind him. This light-skinned body wore a long-sleeved black shirt underneath the navy-blue flak-jacket along with brown gloves, baggy black pants, and short black boots. And the head of this person was blown from the body as well.

Duo quickly turned around and grew more fearful when he spotted that body. Once he backed toward the center of the room, he spotted another body with its wrists and ankles chained to the side of a small stairway before him. Then a crazed Duo held each side of his head with his hands.

"CUTTER?" He yelled.

The dead body was revealed as the slender Cutter Evans. He had pale skin, short blond hair, and a black patch covering his right eye. He had his golden tattoo coming from his left shoulder. And both his eyes were wide-open. He wore a black undershirt along with his baggy black pants and short black boots. He also had on a long black band covering each wrist. And he had on his fingerless black gloves.

The scared Duo slowly walked toward the body as images entered his mind.

Inside a small dark room of the old temple, the vicious Mother Blight continued walking toward him as the helpless Cutter who was frozen as if he was tied by ropes.

Mother Blight with her right hand forward continued walking forward as Cutter yelled loudly in pain.

Finally, Duo fell to his knees as he continued staring at the lifeless body of his closest friend.

A female said in a raspy voice "He had fought surprisingly well until the end."

Another person soon walked toward the back of the grieving Duo. It was the sinister woman known as Mother Blight. She had fair skin, black eyebrows, and cold brown eyes. And her long dark-brown hair remained down. She had on a long black gown with blue outlines and short black boots. She wore a golden pendant attached to a golden necklace surrounded by small bones made of ivory. She also had on an opened dark-blue coat with a long golden line that was shaped as a snake on each sleeve.

She claimed "Your dearest friend. He held himself until the very end. And he never said a thing regarding you. That truly is the definition of loyalty."

Duo slowly stood up and faced the menacing woman in anger.

"You know who I am," implied Mother Blight.

Then more images entered the fearful Duo's mind.

A quiet Tina Mantys remained on her knees while at the center of a small room that was surrounded by lit candles.

The sinister woman called Mother Blight stood behind her as she implied "You have lost the one who is destined to guide our lord and savior back into this world with his magnificent power."

Tina told her "I will never tell you what I did with him. You will not have my baby."

Afterwards, Duo walked a few steps away as fear continued to come from his eyes.

Mother Blight repeated "You know who I am."

"You!" cried Duo. "You're the one who killed her! Tina Mantys, my bio-mom!"

"She fought her best not to reveal where she put you," stated Mother Blight. "Tina Mantys. She gave her last breath to keep you protected."

Duo soon thought to himself as the cold woman walked a few steps forward.

Mother Blight added "Tina Mantys, Beau Ravenstone... And Joshua Evans. They all have played their roles greatly in order for us to reach this day -- the day when you have finally returned to your true home."

Tears fell from his eyes as an angry Duo lowered his head.

"You have become stronger since the night you were born," reported Mother Blight. "You have trained with your might to be the warrior you are now. But in reality, your life and body have always belonged to us, or rather our great lord."

"What type of monster are ya?"

Duo faced her and replied "You killed her, and my best friend. You're nothin' but a yes-man."

Then he shouted "Cutter was my best friend! And you killed him! He was innocent!"

Mother Blight gave a wicked grin and said "Joshua Evans was nothing more but another sacrifice for our savior."

The inflamed Duo continued looking at the woman as his hands turned into fists.

"Your only task..." informed Mother Blight. "...is to serve our beloved Mephistopheles as his vessel. Nothing or no one will interfere."

A fiery red light began to shine all over his body as Duo ran toward her. And Duo threw a destructive strike using his Left Palm.

"YOU'RE DEAD!" He yelled. "HOMING PHOENIX!"

Once the vicious woman lifted her head, the body of Duo froze as if he was a statue. The light around him quickly faded. And Mother Blight stared at the helpless youth with wickedness.

"Even if you were to land a hit," She informed Duo. "You wouldn't have killed me."

Next, the body of Duo was pushed beside the chained body of Cutter Evans on the wall. And Mother Blight walked toward the captured boy with a sinister grin on her face.

The villainous woman informed Duo "The ceremony will commence once the next night is over. And our great lord will rise from his prison with only one goal. He will brighten this world with his kindness and order."

Duo slowly fell to his knees. He soon became unconscious as he laid face down on the ground. And Mother Blight finally walked away.

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esther-lennox · 2 years

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**esther lennox.

I would rather not go, back to the old house. There's too many bad memories, too many memories there.

basic information

Full Name: Esther Cecilia Lennox Nickname(s) or Alias: When she was in high school she preferred to be called E since she thought her name was too old for her but as she got older she really began to like it. She's usually only called Esther now but doesn't mind being called E still. Gender: Cisgender female Age: Twenty One Birthday: February 16th Zodiac Sign: Aquarius sun, Aries Moon, Aries rising Sexuality: Pansexual Nationality: American Religion: Agnostic City or Town of Birth: East Hampton, New York Currently Lives: Manhattan, New York Languages Spoken: English Native Language: English Relationship Status: Single

physical appearance

Height: 5′4 Hair Color: Blonde Hairstyle: Her hair is chest length and has a natural wave to it, she has wispy bangs that she'll sometimes pin out of her face. Her hairstyle usually depends on whatever outfit she's wearing. She enjoys doing intricate braids since it gives her hands something to do. Once in a blue moon she'll get her hair straightened but it never lasts for more than 3 days. Facial Hairstyle: N/A Eye Color: Brown Tattoos: None Piercings: She has both of her ears pierced but that's the extent she'll go. Scars/Distinguishing Marks: She has a few faint scars on her legs from falling a lot as a child, she was very clumsy. Preferred Style of Clothing: Esther is a preppy Upper East Side girl through and through, it's definitely obvious with her wardrobe. She loves blazers, sweaters, skirts, and well tailored trousers. She's meticulous about her wardrobe, everything has to fit her perfectly. She would never be seen in anything with a wrinkle, rip, or thread out of place. Frequently Worn Jewelry/Accessories: She always has on a pair of earrings either small gold hoops or pearl studs.

health

Smoker?: No, she thinks it's disgusting she can't stand the smell of cigarette smoke. Drinker?: Yes, she's been a social drinker since she was around fifteen. Her parents always let her have a glass albeit a very small glass of wine or champagne at holiday parties and special events. She tries not to drink now, she knows it can be a slippery slope for her so she tries to limit herself to a glass of wine, she'll take baby sips so it won't be as noticeable if she's drinking with other people. Recreational Drug User? Which?: Not anymore but when she was in high school she was a frequent cocaine, ecstasy, and speed. She hid her drug use well from her family and friends, so, people are her just assumed that she only used while she was with her friends and being "spontaneous". Addictions: Caffeine - Esther needs her coffee. She gets migraines and is in a general foul mood until she has at least 2 cups in the morning. Cocaine - While Esther has been clean for four years, she had a drug problem for around two and a half years. While her main three were cocaine, ecstasy, and speed...cocaine was the one she used almost every day. Allergies: Pollen and dust, they're not terrible but she will sneeze up a storm and get swollen eyes if there's too much dust or pollen in the air. Neurological Conditions: N/A Sleeping Habits: Esther isn't a light sleeper but she is a particular sleeper. She has to do her night routine exactly otherwise it takes her forever to fall asleep. She needs the room completely dark, a silk eye mask, and a white noise machine. It's very difficult for her to sleep at other people's places because of this. She also needs exactly seven and a half hours of sleep, otherwise her whole day is thrown off. Eating Habits: She's a relatively picky eater, she likes what she likes and doesn't really go outside of that. She's not completely against trying new things but she would prefer not to. She's a relatively slow eater as well, it takes her forever to finish everything on her plate. Exercise Habits: Esther isn't really the "working out" type, she hates sweating and exerting herself. The most she can do is a low impact yoga class, she doesn't want to twist herself up like a pretzel. She used to play tennis during the summer with her mother when she was younger which was how she discovered her hatred for physical activity, even though she was pretty good at it. Emotional Stability: She's definitely pretty good at keeping her emotions under her control and isn't the type of person to act out in a fit of rage or passion. Although this usually makes people think she's uncaring since she doesn't share what she's feeling. Sociability: It's hard for new people to talk to Esther since it's obvious on her face when she's not interested and in most cases, she isn't. When it comes to people in her immediate circle (or were in her immediate circle) they always said she was the fun and energetic one, always down for a spontaneous outing. However, it did take them a while to get to that point to see this side of her. Body Temperature: She's always cold which is why she's always layering. She has to have on a hat, scarf, and gloves once the temperature gets below 40 degrees.

personality

Label: The Fallen Angel Positive traits: Clever, focused, hardworking, independent, and sympathetic Negative traits: Aloof, blunt, critical, petty, and selfish Likes: Reading, gloomy weather, shopping, cats, merlot Dislikes: Reptiles, surprises, baggy clothes, pinot grigio Fears/Phobias: Having anyone find out about the reason she left Manhattan is definitely one of her biggest fears. She kept it under wraps and lied to everyone she cared about for so long, she can't risk it ever coming to light. Favorite Color: Sage green Hobbies: Reading and painting Habits: She often tugs on her hair while she's talking to people or just sitting around, she'll also twirl it Taste in Music:

house and home

Describe the Character’s House/Home:

Do They Share Their Home with Anyone? Who?:

family, friends and foes'

Parents Names: Are Parents Alive or Dead? Is the Character Still in Contact with Their Parents?: Siblings? Relationship with Siblings? Other Important Relatives: Partner/Spouse: None Children: N/A Best Friend: Other Important Friends: Acquaintances: Pets: Enemies? Why Are They Enemies?:

backstory

Describe Their Childhood (newborn - age 12):

Describe Their Teenage Years (13 - 18):

#biography

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adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy · 2 years

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look at how my sister’s tat turned out, I think it looks great!! like it’s simple ofc but I really like the dude’s style, like the strokes and the details

#he specializes in animated stuff and his work is awesome #he was so fucking cool and nice #the entire vibe in that place was amazing like I thought that since it was her first tat #and it was a guy he’d be condescending n shit but he was so patient n checked on her constantly n explained everything thoroughly #he was like ‘I’m gonna tell you everything I wish I had been told when I got my first tattoo bc i wanna make this experience as good #as possible for you!’ 🥺#when I decide to get a tat I’m going to him fr #or at least to that shop they were incredible #also he was a Latino king and we bonded over La Michocana AJDNSNSJSJJS #he told us about how the one he used to go to when he was younger was next to a bakery so they’d buy conchas and then go next door #and get ice cream and make a concha ice cream sandwich I was like omg…genius #and he called everyone homie like 🥺 just what am all around icon 10/10 #the place is called Once In A Blue Moon Tattoo and they do piercings and lashes and stuff too I was like WOW

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nothing-more-than-hot-leaf-juice · 4 years

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I'm obsessed with Zuko having quality bonding time with the Gaang at his families Ember Island beach house in the days leading up to Sozins comet. I mean, they went to the theater, they had beach parties. The Boi is experiencing funtimes with real friends! I just wish Iroh could've been there....

Headcanons for stuff the gaang did at ember island:

After the stuff that happened in the Southern Raiders, Katara wasn’t really in a place where she wanted to be around everyone else, so Zuko decided that since it was on their way back and they were planning on changing locations anyway, the Ember Island house would be a good place for her to chill out for a bit.

It was there that she asked him why exactly he betrayed them in Ba Sing Se and they actually talked about Zuko’s decision. I think Zuko helping her find her mother’s killer showed her that he was actively trying to make amends, but they needed to have the conversation about why he did all the things he did in order for her to forgive him.

When the rest of the gaang got to ember island, the first thing Zuko decided to do was burn all his family’s stuff that he didn’t the last time he was at the island. This time, however, they had a really nice bonfire and Zuko didn’t feel uncomfortable or sad in his family’s house for the first time in a long time.

The house has many rooms and for the first night, they all split up to sleep in separate beds but found they were much more comfortable sleeping in the same room. Their solution was to take all the pillows, mattresses, and blankets, compile them in one room, and make the largest pillow fort ever.

Suki taught Sokka and Zuko how to catch crabs. Sokka got pinched many, many times in the process.

Katara and Aang scheduled time to practice waterbending, but it mostly turned into them surfing using ice blocks and competing to see who could surf on the biggest wave (using bending to make the waves bigger).

Toph enjoys Zuko’s company a whole lot and Zuko would do anything she wants because she can always pull the ‘hey remember when you burned my feet’ card, so they spend a lot of time bonding.

There are a couple of Ursa’s old play scrolls in the house that Sokka finds and, being the cultured boy he is, gets super into them, much to Zuko’s delight. Sokka convinces Suki to join them in reading them aloud (”because that’s how you’re supposed to experience plays, you can’t just read them from the scroll”). She agrees but only on the condition that she gets to play the cool villain character and Zuko and Sokka have to play the lovers.

Zuko found out that Aang had been frozen in the iceberg for 100 years and was not, in fact, in hiding like the Fire Nation had assumed for a literal century when he asked why the play was called “Boy in the Iceberg” in the first place

After finding that out, Zuko just walked into the ocean and stood there for a couple hours

Toph woke Zuko up in the middle of the night after they saw the play and decided to put his Blue Spirit skills to use. They vandalized the posters for the play all over town.

Sokka found random bottles in a cabinet and decided that fuck it, if the world was going to end, he was going to get drunk at least once in his life. Zuko decided to not tell him that whatever was in that bottle was in no way alcoholic and just decided to see how Sokka would act ‘drunk’.

This allows Toph to bury Zuko with sand whenever she sees fit

Zuko and Toph wouldn’t say it, but they really aren’t into Katara’s cooking. Toph may be a bad bitch but she appreciates high society cuisine. Zuko needs at least five spices for whatever he’s eating to taste good. They steal buy a ton of local spices to give some kick to their next few meals. Zuko is happy with it but Toph immediately regrets it (not that she’d admit that she can’t handle spicy food).

Zuko helps Toph learn her way around the wooden house once he picked up on the fact that she couldn't sense her way around.

Ember Island has a tattoo parlor and Sokka was planning on getting one of the moon (the only thing that stopped him was Zuko convincing him that it would get infected).

Likewise, Toph was very close to getting her ears pierced just because it was something her parents didn’t want her to do (she didn’t give a shit about jewelry but if someone thought she couldn’t handle the pain of getting her ears pierced, she was 100% going to do it no matter what). Likewise, Katara talked her out of it with the argument that with the amount of dirt Toph is constantly covered in, there was no way it wasn’t going to get infected.

Suki was put in charge of cooking one night. It posed a bigger fire hazard than any bender that lived there. She is no longer allowed in a kitchen ever again.

#atla #avatar the last airbender #headcanons #zuko #aang #sokka #toph #suki #katara #the gaang #hot leaf content #the babes are asking #ember island

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alecmagnuslwb · 3 years

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Marriage is a Contract and My Signature is Unreadable

Read on AO3

John’s never seen a bride wear fishnets with their stunning white dress, but Dinah Lance is pulling it off somehow. Admittedly though John hasn’t seen that many brides that weren’t ghosts or the earthly demonic embodiment of some sort of hell beastie so maybe his experience in weddings and bridal wear is a bit skewed.

Of course he’s also a bit skewed because in his eyes no one at this wedding, not even the bride no disrespect to the woman who’s by far one of the few supers he can truly say he likes, is as stunning as his date. Zatanna sits beside him at their table, the reception in full swing now, her legs crossed the deep navy-blue asymmetrical dress she’s wearing showing off a tantalizing bit of her leg. Her tattoo, the twin to his peeks out from the front of the dress right next to the silver lining at the edges where the dress straps around her neck. She’s a fucking vision his Zatanna.

“I can’t believe they finally did it,” Zatanna says gliding her silver French tipped nails with little crescent moons on them along her glass of champagne. “I really thought Lois and Clark would be the only ones to take the plunge.”

Supers aren’t known for tying the knot, their world is so complicated and their relationships so wild they never find the time to actually get around to it. The fact that Dinah and Oliver managed to not only successfully get engaged, but plan a real wedding and have the ceremony without any major incidents happening in the middle is a miracle if John’s ever actually seen one.

“Who do you think’ll be next?” John says surveying the room. Every hero he’s ever met and ever butted heads with is here out of costume and all dressed up to the nines. There’s a congregation of Green Lantern’s by the bar, Superman is on the dance floor poorly attempting to floss as Nightwing laughs his fine ass off at him, the Flash is somehow dancing with his girlfriend and eating every item on the buffet simultaneously. “Seems like two in a row will make a domino effect, yeah?”

Zatanna hums in thought her piercing blue eyes with the glittery navy blue and silver eyeliner around them shimmering in the light as she tilts her head in thought. She carefully scratches at the space beside the cluster of tiny rhinestones artfully placed around her right eyebrow and settles her eyes to a table across the room with a smile.

“Wally and Linda for sure,” she says tilting her head their direction. John swivels to look at them. Unlike Barry who’s still zooming back and forth from Iris to the buffet, Wally is wholly engrossed in every movement Linda makes as she talks rapidly her hands moving all about as she speaks to Mia Dearden on the other side of the table. That is a man wholly in love, enraptured by the woman he gets to call his own. John understands the sentiment as he looks back to Zatanna her dark blue painted lips still resting in a beautiful smile.

“What if it was us?” John asks leaning in closer to her a wicked smile on his face.

Zatanna snorts, a harsh indelicate thing that on anyone else would be unattractive.

“Aww, love you too, Zee,” John says faux offended falling back against his chair. He knew it was an absurd suggestion the moment he said it.

“I’m sorry, you know I love you,” she says holding up a hand attempting to hide her laughter. “It’s just look at us, we’re coming up on our first and only three-year anniversary. We’re not exactly known for being good at this.”

It’s a valid point. Despite the fact they have technically been together for over a decade they’ve gone through their fair share of ups and downs, break ups and make ups and even a few trips to hell and literal deaths. John has screwed up more times than he can count and even Zatanna has bungled it once or twice. Complicated has at almost all times been their relationship status, but the past three years, ever since John got his head out of his ass and finally decided to sort out this one particular aspect of his life they’ve been good, solid.

“Okay, true, but you’re stuck with me and we can’t act like there aren’t benefits to the whole marriage sham,” he says stretching his arms behind his head.

“It’s extremely comforting you called it a sham,” Zatanna says giving him a fondly exasperated look. “But you know maybe you’re right the tax incentives alone are a real benefit.”

“Now, the tax incentives would be appealing if I had ever in my life filed my taxes,” John says with a laugh.

“You’ve never filed taxes?” Zatanna says with a slightly startled look.

John just shrugs tossing back the remainder of his champagne. “It’s not like I’ve ever had any real upstanding type of job that would require me to fill out a W4 or whatever.”

“It’s a W2,” Zatanna corrects. “And John you live with me, our landlord made me put your name on the lease because he saw you there so much. You could totally get caught.”

“Eh, it’ll be fine,” John says with an unconcerned wave of his hand. “The fact that I’m not technically a citizen of this country is probably a bigger issue than the tax thing anyway.”

“John!” Zatanna exclaims with a laugh.

“What? You can’t have thought I actually went to a baseball park and held my hands up and did the national anthem or whatever,” he says kicking his feet up on the empty chair next to him.

“Clearly you haven’t considering that’s not at all how citizenship works,” Zatanna chuckles. “But hey there’s a potential benefit of marriage for us, citizenship.”

“Ah the romance of marrying not for love, but so the government pricks don’t send your ass packing,” John reaches out a hand tangling his fingers with Zatanna’s on the table his thumb running small circles into her hand.

Zatanna hums. “I guess lack of romance aside it wouldn’t matter since I can always just portal you back into the country on a whim anyways.”

John nods in agreement trying to come up with another benefit they might be able to actually take advantage of. “You couldn’t testify against me in court, that could be incredibly useful down the line.”

Zatanna raises one jeweled eyebrow, “Is there a crime you’ve committed lately you’ve neglected to tell me about?”

John thinks for a moment genuinely scanning his memories in case there is something he forgot to tell her about. “No,” he settles on confidently. He’s pretty sure at least. “I’m just thinking in general considering my track record in the past.”

Zatanna pats the top of his hand with a smile. “As if any prison could hold you long enough for me to even be asked a single question.”

John just laughs again, “Alright so maybe there aren’t that many marital benefits for us to take advantage of then.”

“No parents to satisfy,” Zatanna sighs. “And of course making medical decisions for one another doesn’t really matter when you use magic and superhero doctors that definitely don’t accept any sort of co-pay,” she adds on with a contemplative bite of her lip.

“Half your friends hate me,” John says thoughtfully with a chuckle.

“And half your friends are dead,” Zatanna says ruefully tapping a nail to her chin. “The wedding party would be abysmally uneven.”

“I haven’t bought a new tie in years,” John says tugging at the red thing around his neck. He looks hilariously basic compared to Zatanna’s ensemble essentially wearing what he wears any given day of the week the only difference being Zatanna had forced him into a subtly lace patterned black jacket for a change and repainted his chipped nails for the first time in two weeks. “It’d make the pictures look horribly out of place.”

“Plus let’s be real I’m a show woman, I’d probably hate having to share the spotlight with you for one day,” Zatanna smiles teasingly. John smiles back shifting so that he’s scooting his chair closer to hers. He lifts a hand to her face twisting a long dark hair that’s slipped from her twisty updo held in place by two sharp silver hair pins with crescent moons at the end to match her nails and tucking it back behind her ear.

“So, basically there’s not a benefit in this world or a thing that would change if we got married,” John says letting the silky hair go.

“The only thing I can think of is that I like shiny jewelry and you look hot when you wear silver rings,” Zatanna says reaching back and pulling the two pins from her hair letting it all fall across her shoulders, the one stand out streak of navy blue appearing as it falls.

“And we can buy each other jewelry anytime without a reason,” he says brushing the bit of hair that’s fallen into her eyes away.

Zatanna smiles at him once before standing holding out a hand that he instantly takes. She guides him to the dance floor twining her fingers behind his head slowly.

They sway slowly to some sappy love song John vaguely recognizes their eyes locked on one another.

“You know,” she says after a while her fingers pulling through the hair that’s getting a bit too long at the base of his neck. “Just because I don’t want to get married doesn’t mean I don’t want you for as long as I can have you, right?”

He does know that. It’s inexplicable to him why someone as bright and vibrant and good as her wants him, but she does and he intends to keep it that way till the demons or the cigarettes kill him.

“I know. I’m happy how we are, knowing us, and by us I mean me, marriage would end up mucking everything up anyways,” he says pulling her in closer his hands moving from their grip on her waist to the exposed small of her back. “We can just keep going to everyone else’s weddings and raiding their open bars.”

Zatanna laughs then leans up kissing him once soft and slow not even smudging her lipstick in the slightest. She stays close when she pulls back resting her head on his chest as they continue to sway.

“We really need to get your name off of my lease though, I don’t need the government showing up and trying to audit me,” she says softly. “I’d be a nightmare for Mistress of Magic brand.”

John laughs loud and bright leaning his head down to kiss her once atop the head already planning a minor break in to the landlord’s apartment. It’ll be okay if he gets caught, married or not he knows she won’t testify against him.

#my fic #johnzee #john constantine #zatanna zatara #writersmonth2021

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wtf-amiru · 2 years

Text

Arannis Ilnatar

General Information

Name: Arannis Ilnatar

Name Meaning: I believe I used a dnd character name generator for this one

Other Names: I don't think he really has a lot of nicknames, there's not really a nice way to shorten his name except for maybe calling him something that's too close to Aaron.

Gender: gentle himbo

Birth Name: same

Birth Date: 16th Sun of the 4th Umbral Moon

Birth Place: Thavnair

Dominant Hand: left

Astrological Sign:

Appearance

Height: 7'1

Weight: I'm not going to be able to do any of these because he's a giant lizard man

Ethnicity: Xaela Au Ra

Birthmarks:

Hair Color: Black

Hair Length: Fabio

Hair Type: oh it's so silky and shiny and smooth

Hair Style: again, ponytail for function

Eye Color: blue, his one limbal ring went from dark blue to white because of light poisoning during shb

Eyebrows: naturally on point

Teeth(Ex. Cavities/dentures):

Face Shape(ex. Round/flat/etc): oval

Complexion (Ex. Acne, blemishes.): clear

Shirt Size: idk medium in Au Ra sizes? Dude's tall but not super ripped, he got that twunk body type, just 7 feet tall.

Pants Size: he never wears pants, excuse you

Shoe Size: yeah, I've glammed away his shoes, I don't think he wears them unless he has to

Health and Image

Diet: This baby boy's all about eating healthy, he probably grew all the vegetables himself too

Exercise: he's not out there getting ripped, but he stays fit

Fitness: ^^

Posture (lazy/proper): proper unless he's out in the wilderness, then catch him hunched over a plant or something somewhere

Abnormalities: light poisoned limbal ring

Vulnerabilities: don't you touch his babies. (his babies are literally all of the scions, especially the twins), also any child ever, he loves kids.

Handicaps: full blown idiot, has never seen a brain cell in his life

Medications: he is the medication

Allergies:

Diseases: chronic brain rot

Illnesses:

Disorders:

Imperfections: I designed him to be a beautiful idiot, c'mon

Broken Bones: yeah he's probably broken a lot of bones himself, being a healer is handy for hiding your fuck ups

Reason for Health (ex. Cigarette smoking/accidents):

Wardrobe: this boy will not wear pants unless someone died and he's told he has to, avoids shirts if he can, ~*accessories *~, which i feel like is more of a "oo a pretty thing!" than anything that's ever given any planning at all

Accessories: all of them at once preferably

Equipment:

Musical Instruments: no, but I feel like he'd be one of those frustrating people who could pick up an instrument and be proficient in it in like an hour

Piercings: nose, wears a chain to his "ear" sometimes

Hygiene: squeaky clean boy

Makeup: chapstick, Au Ra males come with built in eyeliner

Perfume / Cologne: he's around plants and flowers a lot so the scent probably lingers honestly

Scent: ^^

Scars: just ones he's collected through msq, nothing large or noteable

Tattoos: no, his scales are so pretty

Voice

Accent / Dialect: mild Thavnairin accent

Voice: probably not as deep as you're imagining

Volume: average, not too loud, not too quiet

Laughter: p loud

Impediments:

Psychology

Vocabulary: I mean he knows words, sure. He dated Urianger for a while pre Stormblood so he understands words but he just talks like a regular idiot

Memory: not great honestly, because he can get kind of stressed out sometimes bc he worries his memory can get a little muddled

Temperament: he is pretty chill honestly, even when he's mad about something

Emotional Stability: he's so transparent he's the most emotionally stable oc I have bc he just doesn't think to hide anything ever, that's not how he was raised, his only issue is with worrying too much.

Mental Health: He's prone to worrying a little too much honestly, stresses himself out a lot

Instincts: in a city? terrible, in the middle of nowhere? amazing

Philosophy

Superstitions: heavy heavy believer in fate and destiny

Morality: the goodest of boys

Etiquette: polite idiot

Alignment: neutral good

Character

Priorities: just wants to keep you alive pls stay safe and healthy

Motivation: he literally left home to help people, he just wants to help

Self Confidence: he knows what he can and can't do, he's confident in his abilities

Self Control: uncontrollable idiocy but otherwise normal and controlled

Self Esteem: he's honestly pretty good

Quirks:

Hobbies: accidental gardening, he doesn't do it intentionally but oop, there's a plant getting drowned out by weeds better just quickly pull those while i'm here.

Closet Hobbies:

Guilty Pleasures:

Habits:

Desires:

Wishes:

Traumas:

Worries: pls do not get hurt, pls stay safe and alive and remember to drink water and take your meds pls

Nervous Tics(ex. Finger tapping, fidgeting): he may bounce a knee from time to time

Soft Spots: kids, his family and community back home,

Accomplishments:

Greatest Achievement:

Failures:

Biggest Failure:

Favorite Dream:

Worst Nightmare:

Earliest Memory:

Fondest Memory:

Worst Memory:

Funniest Moment:

Happiest Moment:

Saddest Moment:

Most Prized Possession:

Most Valuable Possession: what even is money in this game

Collections: are you kidding? this bitch is bringing home pretty rocks and drying plants all day every day

Embarrassments: he is unfortunately related to Magnai (Magnai bullied him a lot until the whole "little sun" debacle, now Arannis seizes every opportunity to embarrass him about it)

Mannerisms:

Humor:

Regrets:

Secrets:

Darkest Secret:

Pet Peeves:

Phobias:

(1 lowest-10 highest)

Confidence: 8

Creativity: 9

Generosity: 12

Honesty: 10

Loyalty: 10

Insecurities: 6

Patience: 9

Predictability: 9

Reliability: 9

Respect: 9

Responsibility: 6

Trustworthiness: 10

Home, Work, and Education

House:

Hometown:

Citizenship: Thavnairian

Culture: ^^

Traditions:

Sleep Patterns: heavy sleeper, natural cuddler

Eating Habits: healthy boy

Pets: probably

Employer:

Job Title:

Social

Mother: yes

Father: yes

Guardians:

Siblings: yes, younger siblings

Children: no

Close Relatives: yes

Distant Relatives: Magnai and his family

Best Friend: G'raha, Alisaie

Close Friends: Urianger and Estinien

Confidantes: Y'shtola, Urianger, Alisaie

Friends: yes, they're all friends

Allies:

Acquaintances:

Followers:

Subordinates:

Rivals:

Enemies:

Inspirations: take your pick from any of the scions really

Role Models: I want to say probably his mom

Mentors: ^

Heroes:

Reputation:

Dominance: only when Y'shtola says he can

Sociability:

Isolation:

Romance

First Love: I don't even know, I feel like Arannis falls in love easily so it was probably early in life and someone back home

Love Interests: Y'shtola, Urianger

Marital Status: technically they're just dating

Orientation: this guy is the captain Jack Harkness of this game. Consenting and sentient adult? He's good to go, lmao.

Significant Other: Y'shtola

Love Style: he's an acts of service and quality time kinda guy, also occasionally gift giving

Flirtiness: this lovable idiot I swear

Turnons:

Turnoffs:

Fetishes:

Virginity: nah, he lost that a long time ago

#arannis #abio #apix #saving a copy to work on some of the blanks but this will do for now

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angeli-marco-writes · 4 years

Text

Charlie Weasley - Secret

A/N - This is my first imagine thing uploaded on Tumblr, and I’m uploading the smutty version of this story on this platform before posting the more PG version to my wattpad collection. Check it out: angeli-marco. Also this somehow became a Gryffindor reader kinda thing, it’s just what works but imagine you’re not in Gryffindor if you fancy.

Warnings - smut, rough sex, choking, kinky, all that jazz. Starting this blog off with a bang, literally. 6k words of p*rn with plot.

Summary - you have a secret regarding the dragon taming Weasley. The only issue is that he sees you as the child you were a few years ago. When you become legal, he seems to seek you out wherever you are. Maybe he has a secret, too.

YOU HAD A SECRET, a secret that no one beside yourself and your best friend knew, not that you’d readily admit to anyone that for your first three years at Hogwarts, you’d had a crush on none other than Charlie Weasley. Now, beginning your seventh year, having not seen him in three years, you’re surprised to find that your crush still lingers.

You’ve kept the notes that he wrote you, since the pair of you were actually quite close, Charlie tucking you under his wing once he found out your love of magical creatures. He nurtured your passion for the outdoors from the start of your second year. He sent notes, would help you access the forest, and he’d show you drawings of all these magical creatures that he wanted tattooed once he was older. He was the best.

All of these thoughts catch up to you while you’re lying in your tent, eyes closed and dreams clouding your vision, willing you to sleep. Until you hear yells.

Screams come from outside, howls and wails, yells for help and sacrifice. Not the kind of happy bellows that you’d expect after the World Cup Quidditch match. And then all of a sudden, moonlight beams in through the canvas of your one-man luxury tent and illuminates shadows you haven’t seen before, making you dwell in eeriness.

A head pops into your tent, followed by a voice, one that’s so familiar it makes your stomach ache and the hairs on your arm stand on edge.

“Whoever’s in here, you need to go! Get to safety, now!”

Charlie. As clear as day.

“I’m coming, what’s happening?” You call back, voice shaky while you try to stand up, legs nearly bowing and giving way beneath you.

“Death Eaters. Wait, Y/N?”

He recognises you from your voice. Your body feels electrified already. Not the right time, you scold yourself, but you can’t help feeling a little pride that he still remembers you.

“It’s me, Charlie, I’ll come to fight with you.”

You hear him stutter from outside, but within seconds, he’s raced across the expanse of your tent and has his arm wrapped around your waist.

“You’re too young,” he insists, but you just pull your wand out and look at him.

His blue eyes twinkle, even in a moment like this, and you feel as though he’s boring into your soul, which in all fairness you wouldn’t say no to.

You sigh, “I’m of age and I’m here alone, don’t think I’m not coming, Dragon Boy.”

He smirks at the nickname you gave him so many years ago, but smiles and brings you outside, still gripping onto you in any way he can.

You run to the centre of the outbreak. Men in masks levitating helpless muggles , the Ministry and other helpers already failing at bringing them down. It’s worse than you could’ve imagined. Charlie pulls you behind him, gripping your wrist with a determination, a protectiveness, one that he still had back in the day. Though it’s not the time, you feel your stomach flutter, even letting out a giggle at his gesture mere seconds before running out from behind him.

You proceed to run into the centre of the action, Charlie not far behind, calling out your name in the most desperate way you’ve heard him speak.

What he doesn’t realise is how much you’ve grown over the past few years. You’ve become trained in combat, mostly thanks to Professor Lupin, and you’re really bloody good at it. You have virtually every possible spell in your arsenal, ones that many ministry members mayn’t even know, all thanks to Lupin again who gave you one on one lessons and prepared you for anything. Not to mention that you play Quidditch for your house team, something that you always admired Charlie for, but now you’re extremely agile, ready for almost anything, and prepared to fight.

What you see is pure injustice, people being persecuted for their blood, all for a sick game. You’re a little scared, that’s a given, but you know it isn’t right, so aim a stunning spell straight at the chest of the tallest man in a mask. Non verbally, so he doesn’t see you coming. He falls to up the ground, wand discarded, a wand which you happily take and slot into your pocket. Your thought process is that you’ll take the men down one by one, maybe with a little help since you are only a 17 year old girl, while the weak ass ministry workers try what’s best for their image.

And really, that’s the way it goes. A good while later, when you’ve participated in a couple of duels, ended up flat on your arse in front of everyone, with a cut on your cheek and anger roaring in your blood, only then do you get a rest.

Charlie and his brother helped duel the masked men, taking them down, while the Ministry brought the muggles down to their Rightful Place and proceeded to wipe their memories. Horrible ordeal, all done incorrectly for press, especially since every single man got away, at least that’s what you counted. You tuck your wand away in your pyjamas. Certainly not the right clothes you wanted to be wearing when meeting Charlie again, but so be it.

You sit on the floor, looking up at the stars and hollow moon, really hungry and a little shaken up. You have a cold compress on your face, well, a tissue that you used an aguamenti charm to dampen and proceeded to lay it over your pounding forehead, throbbing eyes and bruising cut.

“Let me help you with that,” Charlie says, coming to sit beside you. You didn’t hear him approaching, so his sudden presence takes you by surprise. Surprise that evaporates the second he lays his hand on your thigh.

“Fancy seeing you here,” you quip, nudging his shoulder, “didn’t think you’d recognise me.”

It’s true, you really didn’t. You would’ve thought that you’d have to prove your identity with the notes he wrote you and by inside jokes you ice had, but he recognised you solely by your voice, very rare. You’ve changed a lot since your third year, growing taller, filling out, gaining a very desirable figure and you changed your style completely, including a complete makeover of your hair, and a nose piercing.

“How could I not? You still sound the same as ever.”

Once again, true. No matter what other hormonal and physical changes you’ve endured, not one of them included losing the babyish feature that your voice held, constantly making you sound like you’re dosed up on a little helium.

“And, you’re still as cute, but very... um...”

Wow. You have Charlie speechless, what a rarity. He has two modes, silent, or never shutting up, and the latter usually only comes when he’s with friends.

“Grown up?” You offer, turning to face him with a small smirk painted on your lips.

He chuckles, a low rumbling sound from the bottom of his throat while his eyes tiresomely yank themselves away from your best features, “yeah, you could say that.”

He brings an arm around your waist, shuffling along the ground to sit beside you, and then a warm hand encloses over your own, the one holding the bloody cloth to your face. Slowly, he takes the cloth away and replaces its positioning with rough, calloused fingers, tracing the outline of your cut.

“Tergeo,” Charlie murmurs, and he watches all the blood and debris disappear from your face, leaving a clean cut.

You stare into his eyes, feeling the same thing of fireflies in your bloodstream as you did when he looked into your eyes when you were all but a child. It’s illuminating, he makes you feel seen, he makes you feel special. He edges forwards, and forwards, until your breath mingles together...

“Try this!” He exclaims with a fake enthusiasm, jolting his head away from your own and clearing his throat with as much subtlety as a Hebridean black.

Charlie withdraws a small, battered tin from his pocket, placing it shakily into your open palm.

“I use it all the time on the sanctuary,” he opens the tin, places one finger inside, and swipes a cooling, vanilla scented balm over your cut.

You wince, involuntary flinching away from him, but your hand grips his string thigh. He contracts and calms beneath your touch as he rubs the balm over your cut, and you can almost feel it recovering.

“As good as new,”

Charlie brushes his lips against your forehead, the way he used to do, it ignites something special in you both this time.

He hesitates. “You’re still at school, aren’t you?” You nod, tucking your hair behind both ears, smiling up at him shyly. “I’ll see you sooner than you expect, I promise, but I have to be with my family now.”

Bemusement flashes over your face, but instead of questioning it and ruining the mystery, you just settle for a smile. Slotting your palm in his, Charlie steadies you to your feet and swiftly pulls you flush against him.

“You look so beautiful, Y/N, so grown up. I miss you.”

His voice cracks, neediness clear in his deep, dulcet tones. He wraps his arms around your almost bare shoulders, allowing yours to fall around his waist. He’s grown impossibly taller, gained even more muscle, and his heart has most definitely swelled in his absence.

“I miss you too,” you murmur against his chest, the words getting lost within his chest, the warmth of his skin on your face through a tear in his shirt. You could quite happily stay in his arms all day, all night and never get tired.

Soon, though, he withdraws and holds you at arms length, observing every blemish on your face and the way your eyelashes curl and the way your lips quirk into a smile at the mere thought of him. You want him to wander further, for his eyes to follow down your body, the way your bust is accentuated in your scrappy pyjama top, and the way your 3/4 leg pyjama bottoms fall low on your hip and stay snug around you with no effort at all; but he stays with his eyes fixed on yours.

“Stay safe.”

And with a kiss, the brush of his stubble on your cheek, he’s gone and you’re left to wonder if him being beside you tonight was just a dream.

-x-

It’s been months since you saw Charlie last, despite his promise that he’d see you sooner than anticipated. You, however, had expected to see him there as a new teacher on September 1st, but your wish didn’t come true.

Your first two months at school weren’t too bad: a decent DADA teacher (nothing on Lupin though), no escaped prisoners, no escaped trolls or petrified students, and you could safely say that it was the most normal year you’d had so far at Hogwarts, at least since Harry Potter started.

That basic joy and normality evaporated with the announcement of the tournament, which you most unequivocally would not enter under any circumstances, so you stayed out of the way ever since. You couldn’t be arsed with the other schools, nor all the gossip about the tasks, and you instead continued to busy yourself with your nightly creature endeavours. You’d walk to all your favourite spots where unicorns, nifflers, bowtruckles and more stayed, but not once did you bump into Charlie.

You began to feel defeated, lost, like you wouldn’t see him again and he’d just been lying, or maybe it was all a dream. But tonight, your walk is different.

The sun set early, late November creeping in and enveloping you in a warm blanket of darkness, the moon comforting you. It’s not even curfew yet, nowhere near, but maybe you’ll stay out here until sunrise, nap beneath the stars, all curled up with an aethonan winged horse, but deep within the forest you hear clattering. There’s yells, roars, sudden blasts of light, and your curiosity gets the best of you.

You crawl all through the trees and bushes, finding a comfortable path, only to come across four huge dragons in their pens, a collection of wizards, all dressed the same as Charlie, dotted around them. And then, only then, do you see his twinkling blue eyes, a breath of fire from one of the dragons reflecting in them.

“Charlie!” You cry out, not caring about any form of common courtesy on your endeavour through the final brambles until you fall straight into his arms.

“I told you I’d see you soon.” He smirks, but you can just tell that he’s itching to grin like a Cheshire Cat.

You climb him like a vine, legs wrapped around his waist and arms around his neck. You tug at his man-bun and watch as his Adam’s apple bobs up and down. His face falters, cheeks a flaming red, and once again he clears his throat. He turns his head away awkwardly, still keeping his grip on you, so he doesn’t anticipate when you cup his jaw and angle his gaze towards you once more.

“Do you want to kiss me, Charlie?” You ask, voice low and sultry, hips rearranging themselves atop him.

He stutters, tongue tied, pupils blown wide with lust but the colour drains from his face. You repeat yourself, eyes boring into his with a ferocity you haven’t felt since that night in August. His freckled eyelids fall shut for a couple of seconds, crinkling in the corners, and then they shoot open, his nose nudging yours, lips grazing yours...

“Charlie!”

He sighs, putting you down onto the ground, and he turns his back momentarily which allows you to examine the way the moonlight ripples over his leather jacket.

“What, mate?” He calls, the most exasperated time you’ve ever heard him use, and you can see his heavenly back muscles tensing through his clothes.

“A little hand over here?” A European accent calls him over. “When shithead gets back from his food run, then you can run off with your girlfriend, but for now we need help.”

Charlie rolls his eyes and slumps his chest forwards. Clearly he’s not happy, and you can’t blame him. It’s a lovely evening that could be silent shagging you, but he has to spend it being burnt by dragons.

“You’ve had an impact on their language then, they’ll be yelling ‘BOLLOCKS’ soon if you’re not careful.” Charlie chuckles at your quip and brings you into his side.

“You still like animals, right? Fancy giving us a hand?”

You know Charlie well enough to know that he’s actually serious, so he sheds his jacket to wrap around your shoulders, and brings you toward the centre of the fire pit with him. You get strange looks from all the other dragon tamers and you can’t blame them. A girl like yourself, you don’t much look like a dragon tamer, but anything for Charlie.

The task is easier than you anticipated anyway, giving you ample opportunity to watch Charlie’s body, the way he moves, the way he smiles, and you even catch a glimpse of a few tattoos. You feel heat flowing to your core, desperate for him to just snog you already.

All you really have to do is cling to the rough skin of Charlie’s hand and dodge fire, occasionally shooting stunning spells at the Horntail or pulling on some chains to keep the creatures tethered. The beasts truly are magnificent, and it’d be a lot easier to take notes on them and examine them a little more closely if it weren’t for Charlie’s cute bum looking far too tight in his jeans, making your fingers ache to touch him.

You shrug his jacket off when curfew approaches, only just keeping time by slanting his wrist towards yours every so often, and so you drape it back over his shoulders, unwittingly giving him a kind of bear hug. He brings you around to his front, your legs settling comfortably on his hips, and he smirks at you. Bloody hell, just his smirk does things to you.

His breath mingles with yours, fogging your vision from the way it steams in the cold, night air. The moon shines down and illuminates constellations with each and every one of Charlie’s freckles. You slip a hand to his cheek, resting it on his stubble for just a moment while you stare longingly into his eyes. There’s no need to rush such a beautiful moment, but then he dips his head a little in order to catch your lips in a slow, savoured kiss, allowing every feeling the two of you harbour each other to be portrayed through the slow, deft dance if his lips on yours, passion exchanged when his tongue slips into your mouth, longing and urgency once he begins to fervently nibble at your lip...

“Fuck, Charlie...” you moan into his mouth, his hips involuntarily rutting against your core. You can feel just how much he wants this.

His eyes are shut, holding you against him with one hand slipped under your bum and the other exploring your back beneath your top. You kiss him again, needier this time, breathier, and you just pray that everything you feel can be portrayed in your mix of reverent kisses and sultry movements, your hips grinding down on him.

You pull away, gasping for air, rubbing your thumb over the curve of his cheek. You didn’t even notice your other hand moving to fist at his shirt for support, too lost in the moment. Your eyes flutter open and you search his for some kind of a tell tale sign that he just snogged you senseless, and you can see it in how lust-blown his pupils are. The earth cracks beneath the two of you while you’re still wrapped in the security of your kiss, but eventually you slip from his waist and land steadily on the floor, minuscule in comparison to his stature.

“I’ll wedge the portrait open and I’ll see you later. Don’t be too late. I’m sure you know how to sneak into the girls dorms by now.” You whisper to him, your voice carried away with the roars of the dragons and the nightly breeze.

And with a wink, you’re gone, with Charlie left dumbfounded, feet behind as you walk away into the depths of the forest, only to emerge the other side more flustered than ever before.

-x-

As soon as you reach your dormitory, you’re glad to see that all your roommates have disappeared, probably to their significant others' beds, or late night training help for Diggory just to watch him work out. You, however, have no inclination for anything or anyone other than Charlie.

You tidy your bed as much as you can manage, tucking clothes away wherever you can in as small a time frame as you have, leaving ample time to let your nerves subside and your tension to dissipate before getting ready for Charlie’s arrival, you just hope to Merlin that he’ll turn up. The way he kissed you gave you he, the way he savoured you in every sense, kind yet needy, soft yet burning. Just the thought makes you rise in goosebumps, let alone imagining what he’ll do to you tonight.

Finally, after what feels like a lifetime has passed, you’re lying in your four-poster with the covers wrapped around your body, the silk slip you put on leaving nothing to the imagination with the way it brushes your hips and clings to the swells of your breasts, moonlight shimmering on the fabric with any movement, the material almost not even daring to skim your skin from how in control you are of your body in that rare moment of power over yourself, and then you hear a knock, all of your composure flying out the window.

“Hey beautiful, it’s me.”

His voice sounds like molten honey with a slight rasp and you’ve never heard anything more perfect, so with as much normality as you can, you open the door to him.

“Fucking hell...”

The words tumble from his mouth so freely upon the sight of you, hair swept off your face with a scrunchie and nothing but your well chosen slip gracing your body, Charlie looks as though he may combust.

You step aside while Charlie awkwardly walks over the threshold into your dorm, no doubt one that he spent many nights in when he was a seventh year, but as soon as the chestnut door swings shut, he’s got you pressed against it with his chapped lips hovering over your own, the rough material of his jeans tantalising on your bare thighs.

“Did you think it was funny for you to kiss me like that? Climb all over me? Touching me relentlessly? I couldn’t concentrate, your ass in those leggings and you wearing my jacket, I’ve never seen anything so sexy.” He croons in your ear, causing you to involuntarily mewl and buck your hips against his. You were already at his mercy, clinging to his jacket and clawing at the back of his neck while he holds you up, the wood chilling on your tingling spine.

“When I left, you know, I thought I’d never see you as more than a friend, but now? The World Cup? You’ve gotten so mature, and your body, sweet Merlin. You’re all I want.”

You release a strangled moan, not wanting to let him know just how much his words are riling you up, but you’re sure he can already tell by the quirk of his lips, upturning into a smirk, a special glint in his eye that he was notorious for in his last year.

“Are we gonna do this? I’ve fancied you since I was twelve, Charlie, please.”

He chuckles at your desperation, but sheds his leather jacket nonetheless and steadies you on your feet once more. Within seconds, you’re pouncing on him and beginning to strip his shirt, pulling it out from his jeans and up over his head. He seems equally as eager as you with the way his hands take a bruising grip onto your hips, scared of stripping you of your only covering just yet.

You run your hands all over his tanned, muscular torso, covered in burns and tattoos and a fine dusting of dark ginger hair. There’s a Romanian Longhorn on his right peck, a Norwegian ridgeback on his left bicep (slightly distorted from a bad burn), an animated Zouwo on his hip and a crup pup on his perfectly angled shoulder blade. Charlie’s gonna be the death of you, you can just sense it by the heat radiating off his body.

Your eyes bulge as the pad of your finger trails the swells and dips of his abs, and the way his muscles ripple is divine, you may just puddle at his feet.

“I swear, Charlie...” you murmur, your fingers deftly working on his jeans, shoving them down his hips before winding your arms around his neck.

He lets out a broken groan when you tug his hair, weaving your fingers into his unruly red locks. He holds your waist and slowly grips the flimsy fabric in his big hands, allowing your back to arch against him from how electrifying his touch is on your upper thighs and now bare hips...

He kisses your collarbone, sucks marks on your neck, fans his hot breath over the shell of your ear, peppers feather light kisses to your jawline; all of them make you whimper, shivering and trembling like a leaf against his body from his other ministrations as well as the work of his lips. Until finally, his mouth slants over yours and his arms curl around your thighs, wrapping them around his bared torso, every inch of him carved by a Greek god. He slips his tongue into your mouth, savouring the moan that slides from your lips, swallowing it and keeping you for his own. He walks backwards until his knees hit the side of your bed, allowing you to clamber onto his body and latch your teeth onto his earlobe, biting a mark just below.

“Fuck baby...” he whispers. He grips your hips and ass to control your movements on top of him, feeling his boxers just tighten even more. “Your ass is perfect...”

He hikes your nightgown up even more, bunching it above your waist, while he massages the globes of your ass, kneading them between his rough fingers and pulling your ass cheeks apart for him. Just by those simple ministrations, you know that you’re in for a rough night.

“Fuck me, dragon boy,” you plead, eyes trained on his as his entire being is overcome with a desire to devour you, you can tell by the way his nose scrunches and his lips upturn into the most devilish smirk you’ve ever seen on anyone.

“That’s Daddy or Sir to you tonight, baby.”

The gasp that escapes your mouth is the most pornographic sound you’ve made in your life, not that you’ve had much experience to. His palm rubbing your pussy erases all inhibitions, and the thought that you should probably warn him you’re a virgin. Not completely, you’ve done stuff with guys before, but you’ve never gone further than third base, so your dildo is your only relief. That should be enough, right?

“You’re so wet for me, my sweet baby. I bet you taste amazing.” Already you’re mewling, clawing at his back, a whimpering mess and he isn’t even inside you yet.

Within a second you find yourself beneath him, hungry eyes looking at you as though you’re his prey, one hand planted firmly on your pillow beside your head and the other with two fingers knuckle deep inside you. You cry out in pleasure, toes curling, but it all just gets so much better when he begins to thrust his hand at an inhumane speed, fingers curling up inside you and pressing that perfect spot perfectly each time. Part of you expected him to start slow: one finger, shallow and slow thrusts; but he’s just going for it, and the ecstasy is incomparable to anything you’ve felt before.

“Are you already that weak for me?” He purrs.

Yes, yes you are. His movements, the flick of his wrist and the jolt of his fingers deep within whenever you clench around him. You can’t fathom a response, especially not when the heel of his hand continually hits your clit and his lips wrap themselves around your nipple.

“Fuck, Sir, I’m so close...” you whisper in his ear, yanking on his hair with one hand, eliciting a groan followed by a swift slap to your ass, his body now being held up by only his knees .

The way your fingers thread and tangle in his red locks and pull a little too harshly makes him insert a third finger. He twists his fingers inside you, hitting more places than before, and he withdraws his hand. You whine a little at the loss of contact, and certainly don’t anticipate their plough back inside, sharp and vicious, you’re unprepared for the sudden rush of contact to your clit, and even less prepared for the way Charlies tongue licks a circle around your other nipple, so you come. Stars blur before your eyes, a strangled guttural cry leaving your throat as Charlie rides it out for you. You already feel spent, body lax after scratching marks into Charlie's back while you clenched and came totally undone around his hand.

When you look up, Charlie’s still hovering above you, glistening hand between the two of you. As your eyelashes flutter and you focus on him, he knows he has your attention, so brings his hand up to his mouth and curls his tongue around his fingers, all covered with your cum. He moans as he tastes you, the most erotic sound that’s ever graced your ears, and it may just be the most sensual thing you’ve seen in your life. A slight fire lights itself in your belly while watching him, immediately ready for round two, so you let both your eyes and your hands dance down his perfectly toned body to his boxers. Your fingers feebly wrap around his member through his shorts, grasping tightly to cause jolts of both pleasure and pain shooting up Charlie’s spine. He hisses through his teeth and immediately climbs off the bed, only to retrieve a shiny silver packet from his pocket.

“Are you gonna be a good girl, sweet baby, or am I gonna have to teach you a lesson?” He coos.

You never thought that you’d be into any of this stuff, the ‘Sir’ and ‘Good girl’ and the spanking, but Merlin’s beard it’s turning you on.

“I’ll be good for you, but only tonight Charlie.”

He seems dissatisfied by your answer. You can tell by the way he strikes the side of your ass with his palm and proceeds to look completely calm about it. You’re quite literally salivating though, his dominance increasing your pleasure tenfold.

“Fuck,” you whisper, backtracking in your mind, “I’ll do what you want, just fuck me.”

Your hands find the hem of his boxers, pulling them off in one fell swoop and throwing them to the other side of the room. He’s huge, long and a decent girth, so big that you’re slightly fearful. You made a fist around his dick and moved your hand up and down a couple of times, looking up at Charlie with innocent doe eyes that you can tell are driving you crazy by the way his cock twitches in your hand. You stroke him a little faster, thumb flicking over his tip and allowing the drop of pre-cum to lubricate a couple more jerks before you settle back down, watching Charlie as he intently focuses on rolling the condom down his throbbing length. Fuck, it’s beautiful.

“On your hands and knees.” He orders you in a throaty voice. You look at him with eyes full of scepticism but only for a moment before complying, sticking your ass in the air at the foot of your bed, just waiting for him to do something.

He brings his hand down on your ass again, the skin prickling a little, causing you to moan again, seemingly what he wants, because slowly he begins pushing into you. He starts slowly, just his tip entering you after he’s run his cock through your folds and collected your essence. He stretches as the rest of his length pushes in, cautiously placing a hand on the small of your back to steady himself. You clutch the sheets beneath you, pleasure overwhelming the pain.

“Is that ok? I’m not hurting you, am I?” Charlie sounds worried, hands rubbing around your waist and stomach soothingly.

“No, no it’s brilliant, but I don’t mind if you wanna hurt me…”

You can hear his breath hitch in his throat. “W-what do you mean? I don’t want to hurt you properly… what are you thinking of?”

Your pause is atmospheric, leaning into a yoga resembling pose with arms laying flat and your back arched to perfection, boobs pushed into your duvet. You hum, “Choking, maybe a little more spanking, just general rough sex. Mark me as yours.”

Charlie's knees almost buckle beneath him, removing a hand from caressing your body to steady himself on the poster of your bed. “You sure about this? I still wanna actually make love to you, I’m not all dominant…” You let out a soft chuckle and turn behind you, cocking a smile at him. A subtle nod paired with the part of your lips gives him all the answer he needs to grip your hips and pull out from you, only to slam back in with an unrivalled force.

Your ass jiggles with the power of his thrusts, Charlie's dick pumping in and out of you making you reach new heights of pleasure. His hand wraps around your hair, forming a ponytail and pulling you flush against him, your lightly sweaty back against his heaving chest, his hair tickling your spine. One of his hands grips your hip harshly, intermittent grunts of your name escaping his lips, and the other hand moves up your body, massaging your breast and plucking at your nipple.

“Can I choke you?” His voice comes out raspy, followed by a moan as you clench around his twitching cock, merely from his words.

“God, please.” You beg him, unsure if you’ve ever been so needy in your life.

His long fingers slowly wrap themselves around your neck, pressing his palm down and squeezing lightly. Hard enough so that your breath is slightly laboured and your senses are heightened. You can hear him counting under his breath, still thrusting in and out of you ferociously, and when he hears your breathing becoming an issue, he releases his grip. With a few seconds allowance, you gulp down as much air as you can, swirling your head around to face him. You bat your eyelashes at him, tongue darting out from between your lips, and you kiss him. His lips captured by your own, tongue dancing in your mouth, keeping his dominance over you. He spanks you once, twice, squeezes your hip, his mouth still locked on yours, kissing you tantalisingly. His kisses make you crave even more of him, his hand squeezing around your neck again as his pad of one finger travels down from your hip, pinching the skin on your pubic bone, and he presses down firmly on your clit. His thrusts grow erratic, the pressure on your clit and your oesophagus making the fire in your stomach spark even further, your high so quickly approaching…

He pulls away to whisper in your ear, “Come on me, pretty baby. Good girl.” You moan louder at his coaxing words, the wave of your second orgasm crashing over you and drowning you in pleasure. You cry out his name, his lips moving from pressing feather light kisses behind your ear to your lips, swallowing your screams of his names as much as he can. Your fluttering and shuttering around him allows Charlie to chase his high too. He throbs inside you, dick pulsating until he comes too, his movements slowing as you ride your highs out together.

You crash onto your bed face first, Charlie pulling out of you before joining you, your bare legs entangling as his fingertips brush your face.

“So, that was…”

“Perfect.” he finishes for you, pressing his lips to your nose gently.

“Yes,” you agree wistfully, savouring the moment of just being wrapped in his warmth, “a dream come true.”

He virtually giggles, unable to keep his hands off you. “Cuddles for a bit, and then round two?”

-x-

The next morning comes far too soon for your liking, sunlight blaring through your drapes and your bare legs tangled with someone else’s underneath your sheets, a strong arm draped over your body, warmth pressed against you.

You scramble as much as you can, jolting your neck to check that it was Charlie, and that last night was reality, and you let out the heaviest held breath you could from all the relief crashing down on you like waves, until reality hits.

“Shit. Charlie, Charlie, you need to sort the dragons! Fuck!”

It’s already late, but Charlie just groans and brings you closer into him.

“Charles,” you grumble, nudging his arm away from your body as best as you can, but still, he doesn’t budge and you’re too small to move him. “If it’s any consolation, we’ll definitely be doing this again, so you can let me go...”

Clearly that’s the remedy. His eyes shoot open and he begins to press soft kisses across the harsh marks he left last night, his hand gently caressing your soft skin, making you squirm and giggle a little.

Charlie being as gently dominant as he is (complete softie), refuses to let you do anything without him. That includes showering, dressing and hair. He massages any bruises or rough spots where he was a little too strong last night, whispering sweet nothings in your ear, kissing you whenever he can get to your lips.

“Godric, baby, I haven’t been able to get you out my mind for three months.” He tells you, arms twined around your waist while you primp. “You’re so perfect, so beautiful, such a good girl for me.”

Only a four year age gap, yet you still manage to moan the word ‘Daddy’ when he squeezes your hips just right and suckles on that sweet spot.

“Fuck,” his voice is breathy and strained, clearly trying to hold back, “if you call me that again then we’ll miss the task.”

You chuckle at him but hug him nonetheless. Yeah the intimacy is great, but this just started, and he’s a bloody good hugger. Just being close to him is enough. You wear his jacket and twine your fingers with his own, your other hand resting in the crook of his elbow to feel him as close as possible. When you finally do leave the dorm and climb down the disabled stair case, you get the strangest assortment of looks you’ve ever received, everything from shock to fury to admiration to jealousy. Your cheeks heat and you turn shyly into Charlie again, only for your console to be broken by a high pitched screech, one you know to belong to Fred and George when they’re feigning shock.

“Y/N! How could you!” Fred bursts out, pointing at you with a quivering hand, jaw slackened and face aghast.

“And Charlie, sleeping with a student!” George finishes, the exact same expression written across his face.

You merely scowl at them, but they’ve bought even more attention than you’d had before, namely two girls who would be far from happy.

“Really Charlie?” Ginny says incredulously, making fake gagging noises but snuggling into her brother's side nonetheless, clearly happy to see him.

Hermione stands before you, giving you a horrible stern, disapproving look with pursed lips and folded arms. You offer a snide side eye in return, not so subtly removing your hair from your neck just to watch Hermione’s reaction, and it’s worth the audible gasps from those around you. Bruising purple marks scattered across your neck and the join of your shoulder, a red handprint on the column of your throat. Hermione looks like she’ll faint from pure disapproval, after all, you were supposed to be the innocent animal girl.

“Part of me is impressed-“ Fred announces, a sly smirk painted on his lips.

“And the other part is disgusted.” George adds, scanning you up and down as though vying for another tell tale sign.

Charlie gives them what they want, spinning you into his body with his hands holding your waist beneath your jumper, letting it ride up a little to show more bruises. The twins look nothing but dazzled at the sight of your skin covered in splendid marks. They give their brother a subtle look of solidarity, exchanging no further words before leaving. Hermione remains speechless, but Ginny looks simultaneously confused and scarred.

“Sorry Gin,” Charlie says with a genuinely apologetic style, but turns away from her, leaning down to fleetingly capture your lips.

“I guess I’m something to talk about even when I’m gone, but I promise babe, there’s more where that came from. Dinner, tonight, the edge of the forest before I leave.”

You grin to yourself, squeezing his hand as you make your way to breakfast. All that passes through your mind is how wonderful it is that you finally have Charlie back. Your Charlie.

#charlie weasley #the weasleys #weasley imagine #Harry Potter #harry potter imagine #harry potter fic #fred and george #fred weasley #george weasley #hp and the goblet of fire #dragons #tattoos #harry potter smut #weasley smut

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cinnella · 4 years

Text

Name: Syro Beeks (chosen name); Nehal Desai (birth name)

Age: 24 years old

Sex: Male

Sexuality: Bisexual

Zodiac sign: Leo

Birthday: August 4th

Patron Arcana: Strength (Major); King of Wands (Minor)

Occupation: Combat specialist/magician

Height: 6'5" (1.95 m)

Weight: 227 lbs (102 kg)

Relatives:

Neith Desai - older sister

Aditi Desai - mother (deceased)

Dipankar Desai - father (deceased)

Banhi Desai - grandma (deceased)

Origin: Born on the biggest Pearl Isle of Prakra, grew up in Vesuvia

Race: Indian

Powers: Red (combat) magic and pyrokinesis

Intelligence Level: On a scale from 1 to 10, he's a solid 6.7

Backstory:

He'd been born on a very rainy day, his mother unexpectedly delivering him 1 month prematurely. His parents hadn't decided a name for him yet, so they let Neith do that instead. And looking outside the window at the pouring rain, she named him Nehal, which means exactly that.

About a year later, his parents who were mountain climbers, decided to go on a trip to the Clouded Mountains. They left their kids with their grandma, Banhi, as she wished them good luck in the mountains.

A week had passed when Banhi received news from someone who'd been on the ship with their parents. Unfortunately, while they were climbing the mountains, a storm came and threw them off balance together with a multitude of other people. Only a few of them survived.

With no one else to take care of them, Banhi made it her goal to raise her grandchildren as her own.

One day, while she went out to the market with them, to buy groceries, little Nehal was sleeping soundly in a basket, until Banhi put it down and woke him up. Both her and Neith had their attention on the vendor, so he crawled out of it and away. By the time they noticed, he was out of sight.

They searched and searched and called out to him, but to no avail. He was in someone else's arms, heading towards a new home.

Not much later, he was brought to an orphanage far away from home, in Vesuvia. There, he grew up alongside many other children and the caretakers, though he didn't really have friends. Most of the kids were mean and oftentimes bullied him for his shortness. But then a new kid came in, and stepped up to defend him from them. At first, he thought of it to be foolish.

She was even shorter than him. Small frail body, porcelain skin and black hair, and what stood out the most was her differently colored eyes. There must've been something scary about her, because the kids stopped their bullying.

That day, they became each other's first friend, and he learned that her name was Saiya, but warned him not to call her that. She hated her name. Soon, they advanced to best friends. Everything they did, they did together. Mostly mischief.

The caretakers soon realized that most of the kids had no names, and even when they named them, there was a lot of confusion and many unhappy children. So they decided to teach them to read and write when they were old enough, and on their 7th birthday, they'd let them choose a name themselves.

When he was only 5, a third kid entered their little circle. She'd declared that her name was Eris. She had sun-kissed skin, silver white hair and ice blue eyes, and as young as Nehal was, he couldn't help but get a little crush on her. The three of them became very close, almost inseparable.

Once Saiya's birthday rolled around, she changed her name to Morana, and soon enough, his own birthday came too.

And so, Nehal Desai became Syro Beeks.

Around that week, two new kids joined their troublemaking group. Both were a little under two years younger than him, one with ash blond hair and silver eyes, the other with dark skin and jade green eyes.

Syro couldn't have asked for a better family. Years and years passed by in a blur, every day a new day to do more mischief. And as he approached his teen years and 6'3 in height, heartbreaking news came with them.

The adults made it clear that when they'd turn 17, they'd need to search for a home of their own. Him and the others talked about it, each of them wanted to try and find their homeland, their relatives.

And Eris was the first to leave. They were all saddened to see her go, but they knew she had to find her family.

A year later, Morana was next, but he was not about to let her go on her own. They always did everything together, after all. As heartbreaking as it was to leave the other two, Calyx and Libelle, they had to leave.

Their first stop was the Southern Spines, but much to their disappointment, they discovered nothing of her family. Then, they traveled across the land once more and took a ship towards the biggest Pearl Isle of Prakra, where one of the adults had found him.

Although he didn't know the place in the slightest, it was like his heart was calling to him, leading him. A couple of hours later, Syro came face to face with a woman.

Pink hair, indigo eyes and the same skin complexion he had. The same strong nose, plump lips and powerful jaw. Undeniably, they must have been related. But what clicked to him was her height. It's not everyday you meet someone who is almost as tall as you are.

She burst into tears and whispered his name... Probably his birth name, as she hugged him. As awkward as it was for him, the hug felt right.

The woman asked for them to follow her to her home and explain everything. There, Syro found out her name was Neith and that she was his older sister. He didn't quite believe it, until she pulled out a painted picture Banhi had done of them so many years ago, a 9 years old Neith holding her baby brother, who had jet black hair and magenta eyes just like him.

Many more hours passed, and both Morana and Syro decided to spend a few days with Neith. When they left, he promised to visit her when he had the time.

Once again in Vesuvia, he focused on learning to fight. It was something he'd wanted to do ever since he was little, but never found the time for that. Later on, he learnt to incorporate magic into it, becoming a skilled fighter and magician all the same.

When the Red Plague washed over them, he fleed together with Morana, Calyx and Libelle, but the latter two took to their own path, splitting in pairs. Eris refused to leave, for whatever reason.

They were heartbroken to learn that she'd died, and until then, they hadn't realized she was their anchor, their bridge. He remained with Morana, and the other two stayed with each other.

3 years later, he came back to Vesuvia after Libelle contacted him about Eris possibly living. He of course, didn't believe it in the slightest until he saw her alive and well, walking the streets of Vesuvia. But she didn't recognize him.

He met Asra that day too, who explained to him what happened and warned him about the consequences of trying to bring back her memories.

When she was assigned on late Count Lucio's case to catch his murderer, he volunteered to help her with the on-ground investigation, as it could be very dangerous.

That's how he met Julian.

And soon fell in love with him.

Personality: stubborn, flirty, adventurous, reckless, respectful, polite, self-less, aggressive, competitive, destructive, playful, sarcastic, loyal, sincere, open-minded, pessimistic, a little childish and a tease

Interesting facts:

Although he's very fond of any sun-themed objects, he hates heat. He prefers cold weather.

The scars on his arm are from a bear attack that happened while in the Southern Spines, and he also has one in his left palm.

Unlike the others who are mainly right-handed, he's left-handed. It's why he crosses his arms that way.

Never flinches at bitter or sour tastes, nor at strong alcoholic beverages, he actually likes them.

In total, he has 15 piercings. 5 in each ear, 1 on the right side of his nose, 1 in his right eyebrow, 2 in his lower lip and one in his tongue.

His first kiss was Eris. (And vice versa)

He got the sun-moon tattoo on his cheekbone when he was 15.

He has a second tattoo on his chest, of two entwined snakes.

Loves jewelry with a passion, he cannot go a day without at least wearing a ring.

Appearance: Umber skin tone, shoulder-length wavy jet black-blue hair, magenta eyes, inverted triangle body shape with a strong build

Familiar: Cynthia, a kind and sweet rainbow boa

Voice claim: Chace Crawford

Full sprite:

HERE HE IS, EVERYONE'S FAVORITE BUFFY SWEETHEART!!!

I didn't realize just how much more complicated his design would be compared to Eris' until I got down to actually design it.

But boy am I proud!! (ಥ﹏ಥ)

SHOW MY BOY SOME LOVE, PLEASE!!

Edit: I forgot to add his scars.. T-T

#the arcana #the arcana mc #the arcana apprentice #syro beeks

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dickspeightjrs · 4 years

Text

Guardian Angel - (au / 3.2k words) *check tags for warnings*

ao3 link

Dean could see his breath cut through the air in front of his face. It was a weird feeling knowing that it’d be gone soon.

He walked further along the river, the city lights reflecting off the still night water. So many people amongst those lights and not one of them would notice when he was gone.

He was done. In every way. Life was drowning him. It had been pulling him under the water for years. Every time he thought he could stay afloat another hand came to grab his ankle and tug him under again.

Dean hated to seem all woe is me, he knew other people had it so much worse than he did. It was that thought that had made him bury his inner turmoil for so long.

That, and his brother, Sam. Life hadn’t been great to either of them but Sam had made it out of their small middle-of-nowhere town and to Stanford for college. He’d been there for two years now and Dean couldn’t be prouder.

But, Dean also hadn’t seen his brother for those two years. It was safe to say he hadn’t been as successful as Sam. He’d been stuck in their home town with their deadbeat dad. Dean couldn’t afford to get out to California and he sure as shit wasn’t letting Sam use his money to visit. (It may also have something to do with the fact that Dean didn’t want Sam to see what a shitshow his life had become.)

So, Dean had been struggling but he got through on the thought that, once he saved enough money, he’d join Sam in Palo Alto and kiss this crummy town (and their dad) goodbye.

That was until today at least, when Sam called Dean during his lunch break to tell him that he’d asked his girlfriend, Jess, to marry him. He was flustered because it had been a spur of the moment thing but the first thing he’d done after was ring his brother.

Dean was over the moon for Sam. Until Sam told him that him and Jess, of course, would be moving in together.

“But it’s okay,” Sam had said.

“You can still come out here,” he’d said.

“We’ll find you your own apartment,” he’d said.

Dean’s stomach had dropped. He’d been saving all the money left over after bills (which wasn’t much on a basic mechanic’s salary) to pay for the first few months rent on a place with Sam. He’d just needed enough to cover him while he found a job. Finding somewhere new and on his own would be even more expensive. It was going to take even longer now for Dean to get out.

He’d congratulated his brother and ended the call as soon as he could. He could have broken down right there but he had to get back to work and couldn’t lose his job, now more than ever.

Later, he’d trudged through his front door. He’d spent all afternoon thinking of what he could do now his plans had changed. But nothing motivated him.

He’d been so in his head that he hadn’t noticed the state of his apartment at first. Once he’d entered the living room, he saw that everything had been overturned. The shelves and cupboards had been ransacked.

Immediately, he’d felt sick when he saw that the tin he kept his savings in had been emptied. He knew straight away who had been there. His dad. John was the only other person with a key and there were no signs of a break in. Dean cursed himself for even giving John a key in the first place. John didn’t care about him. He didn’t care about stealing from his own son.

So now, Dean had nothing. No plan. No money. No brother or father. Nothing.

What was the point?

That’s how Dean had ended up here. On the outskirts of the city, walking towards the bridge that led into town.

Sam had a new life and it didn’t include Dean. It was obvious, but it was okay.

He took a deep breath as the bridge came into view. He took determined strides towards it. He knew that if he hesitated for even a second, he wouldn’t go through with it. He’d chicken out like always. And for once in his life, he wanted to get something right.

Blinded by his tunnel vision, Dean failed to see the person walking towards him. He only snapped out of his determined walk when he collided with the person’s shoulder.

On instinct, Dean reached back to steady the person - a guy it seemed. “Sorry, man,” he apologised. “Wait. Cas? Is that you?” He couldn’t believe it. Castiel Novak. He’d recognise those blue eyes anywhere.

Those blue eyes squinted back. “Sorry, do I know you?”

Dean’s heart sank.

He and Cas had known each other in high school.

They weren’t necessarily the best of friends. They were partnered for biology class. Despite what his appearance of tattoos and piercings might have made people think, Castiel wanted to be a doctor. He was smart as hell so he already knew it all. And Dean, well, he’d already figured out by then that he’d never amount to anything so he just didn’t try.

The two boys would sit at the back of the classroom and mess around like two teenagers would. Cas was known around school for being a bit of a class clown and he easily managed to pull Dean down with him.

They never spoke outside of biology. Castiel had his own friends and Dean, well Dean didn’t have any friends really. To anyone else, it was as if they didn’t know each other at all. But, regardless, those lessons with Castiel were oftentimes the highlight of Dean’s day. He always knew he’d leave school that day with something to smile about.

Unfortunately, once biology classes ended, so did their fleeting friendship. Dean assumed Cas had gone to some top college and hadn’t looked back to their shitty town.

But now he was back.

And he didn’t remember Dean.

Of course, once again, the friendship meant more to Dean than it did to Cas. Would anyone ever care about Dean the same way he cared about them?

Dean let his shoulders slump and he turned to carry on his journey towards the bridge. “Forget it.” he mumbled.

He cursed himself for thinking, perhaps hoping, that maybe seeing Cas at this moment was a sign not to go through with this. A sign to keep fighting for something.

What an idiot.

He started walking away when a hand grabbed his wrist. “Dean,” Cas’ voice came from behind him, “I’m sorry. I was just kidding, messing around. Like we used to in high school? Of course I know you. I couldn’t forget you.”

Dean turned around to look at Cas. He could see Cas’ lips carry on moving with speech but the sound didn’t reach Dean’s ears. He didn’t know what to think or feel or say.

When he still hadn’t said anything, Castiel stopped his ranted apology to take a breath and look at Dean properly. Dean didn’t know what the other man could see in his face but whatever it was made Cas’ expression change from one of confusion to soft concern.

“Dean, are you okay?” Castiel reached back across the gap between them and touched Dean lightly on the back of the hand.

Was he okay?

God, how could he answer that question?

Am I okay? Dean asked himself. No I’m fucking not okay.

The adrenaline that had been pushing him through the last hour after finding his apartment trashed, left his body. The whiplash of emotions he’d been feeling drained the energy out of him. He didn’t want to die but he couldn’t carry on with this blackness tethered to him.

Am I okay?

I’ve never been okay.

Before he could stop them, tears began to fall from Dean’s eyes. He shook his head. “No,” he whispered, “I’m not okay.”

With no hesitation, Castiel pulled Dean into a tight hug. Dean struggled to speak through the sobs that had started racking through his body, so Castiel just squeezed tighter and stroked a comforting hand through Dean’s hair.

When the sobs subsided, Dean pulled away from Cas and immediately cringed at the scene he’d just created.

“Fuck. Shit. I’m sorry, man.” He wiped the tears from his face. “Look, just forget this happened. It was good to see you. I gotta go.”

Dean tried to leave again, turning once again to face the bridge.

“Dean,” Castiel’s voice cut through the night air. “I’m not letting you go anywhere right now. Not when you’re like this.” Blue eyes looked at his earnestly. “Please, Dean, if something happened now, I’d never forgive myself.” He looked behind Dean, at the bridge looming.

Dean didn’t know if Cas had actually figured out his plans but it had been so long since someone had asked if he was okay and actually seemed to mean it.

Maybe, Dean was being naive. Maybe this would lead to disappointment again but he had nothing left to lose. The bridge would still be there tomorrow. Nothing would change if he left it another day.

Castiel could see that Dean had relented so he reached out to quickly squeeze Dean’s hand.

“Come on, there’s a 24 hour coffee shop on the corner. We can talk if you want? Or just have coffee.” He didn’t wait for an answer, which Dean was grateful for - he wasn’t sure he could speak even if he wanted to.

* * *

Half an hour later, saw the two men sat opposite each other in the corner of an empty coffee shop. The only other person was the guy behind the counter, who seemed fixated on cleaning one of the coffee machines.

Dean’s leg was bouncing under the table and he resisted the urge not to bite his nails. Anxiety coursed through his body and seeing his reflection in the shop window didn’t help. The lights in the room showed the harsh truth of the toll today’s events had taken on Dean.

Castiel hadn’t said much, other than asking for Dean’s coffee order, which Dean was grateful for. But, Dean knew Castiel hadn’t only been offering coffee when he’d invited him here.

“So,” Dean started, “you’re probably wondering what the hell that was all about..” He smiled self deprecatingly.

Castiel placed his hand on Dean’s sitting on the table top. “Dean, I just wanted to make sure you’d be okay. You don’t have to tell me anything.”

The feel of Cas’ hand on his made Dean want to cry all over again. The gesture was so small but it had been so long since someone had touched him with any kind of affection.

“No, Cas. It’s okay. I guess I need to tell someone.”

And from there Dean spent the next hour just spilling his guts to Castiel. Every gory detail of his entire life.

And Castiel just sat there and listened. Dean had never felt so heard. Normally, someone would listen just long enough to be polite and then change the subject to whatever they’d wanted to talk about.

But Cas, this dude Dean hadn’t seen since high school (who he’d barely even known then either), had sat for an hour and listened. And he never let go of Dean’s hand. Giving him the anchor he needed to stay in the moment, to feel stronger than he had in years.

When Dean finished (he’d left out what he’d been planning to do right before he’d bumped into Cas, though he imagined Cas had guessed) he felt like a weight had been lifted.

He looked to Castiel and saw tears forming around beautiful blue eyes.

“Thank you for telling me, Dean,” he breathed. “I can’t imagine what this must have been like for you to live with all these years.”

“Thanks, man. I don’t like talking about it much. I know other people have got it worse, y’know?” Dean shrugged.

“Someone else’s problems don’t erase yours, Dean.” Castiel moved his hand to link his fingers properly with Dean’s. “I promise you.”

Dean shrugged again but kept hold of Cas’ hand. He didn’t agree but he wasn’t going to argue with Castiel.

“Now,” Castiel continued, “I do have an offer for you. You can think about it, you don’t have to say yes. And I understand that it won’t just magically fix all your problems and -”

“Cas, you’re rambling, dude,” Dean smiled.

“Sorry,” Castiel blushed. “Well, I’m only in town for a few days - I live in San Francisco now.”

Dean’s stomach dropped. Of course, the one ray of light he’d had in days was leaving for fucking California of all places. Fuck California.

Castiel must have seen the shift in Dean’s mood again, because he lifted Dean’s chin from where he’d been focused on the scratches on the table.

“Dean, let me finish,” he said, softly. “As I was saying, I live in San Francisco but my roommate just moved to live with her girlfriend. So, if you’d still like to be close to your brother and have a fresh start, the room is yours.”

Dean stared wide-eyed at Cas.

“D-Dude, are you sure?”

“Of course.” Cas assured him.

Dean saw nothing but sincerity in his expression.

“Look, I can’t guarantee I’ll be the best company most of the time. I’m not used to actually living with someone anymore. Unless you count my dad, I guess, but he’s gone most of the time, God knows where.” Dean shook his head.

“It’s okay, Dean. We’ll figure it out together.” Cas smiled, shyly.

A thought occurred to Dean. “But, dude, I have no savings now. I wouldn’t be able to pay rent until I find a job,” he sighed. “And mechanics are probably dime a dozen there. I ain’t special.” He shrugged.

“Dean, look at me.”

Dean took a breath and met Cas’ gaze. He still felt so uncertain about his place in this world and he was so used to the rug being pulled from under him. It was only a matter of time before the other shoe would drop.

“You are special.” Castiel implored. “We may not have seen each other in years, and we weren’t even that close back then, but I can see it in you. You are special. You are talented. You deserve to have a future. In whatever way you want it.”

“But Cas.” Dean sighed.

“You don’t think you deserve to be saved.” Castiel frowned. It was a statement not a question.

Dean couldn’t get over how well Castiel could read him, after so little time spent together. It was like he could see into Dean’s soul. He glanced down at their clasped hands, he certainly didn’t know what that meant but he was grateful for the source of comfort.

Squeezing Cas’ hand, Dean looked out the window at the street lights shining up at the intimidating bridge above. “I guess, I don’t.” He smiled, softly.

Silence cushions the two men for a few moments, Dean continues to look out of the window. It’s late so there’s barely anyone out but there’s a few stragglers walking the street, a couple of people rushing home after a super long day at work. And two people walking hand-in-hand along the water edge. They seemed so into their own little bubble that a meteor could hit and they’d be none the wiser. Dean’s mouth lifted at the edge.

Maybe he could have that one day.

Fuck it.

“I’ll do it.” He turned back to make eye contact with Castiel who had been patiently waiting for Dean to gather his thoughts, softly stroking Dean’s hand.

The responding grin from Cas shone brighter than any of the street lights could ever hope to.

* * *

Two days later, Dean packed up what little possessions he had in his car and started the road trip with Cas back to San Francisco.

Castiel had insisted that Dean didn’t need to give him a ride, he’d happily fly like he’d originally planned, but Dean wasn’t having any of it. He saw it as a perfect opportunity for the two of them to catch up and learn each other. (Plus if he had to do the drive by himself, he was scared he’d change his mind and turn right back around.)

Dean decided not to contact Sam and tell him about his move just yet. He wanted to be sure it was going to work out before getting him involved. He left a note for John but he doubted his father would ever see it.

It turns out Cas is still as funny and goofy as he was in high school. People shouldn’t be fooled by the tattoos that covered his arms (which Dean looked forward to seeing more of when they got to know each other better). He looked all the part of a punk ass dude but really he was a dork who had a slightly questionable obsession with bees.

Dean laughed more on that road trip than he had in years.

* * *

It was early evening by the time they arrived at Castiel’s apartment. The sun was casting an orange light through the windows, which made the whole place quietly glow.

As soon as Dean walked through the door he knew he was home. He wouldn’t be turning back.

Castiel took Dean by the hand and showed him to his new room. Forgetting the room itself for a moment, the view from the window was beautiful, the evening sun filtered across the bed. Dean could see himself being happy here.

“It’s not much,” Castiel said, “but it’s yours now and you can do whatever you want with it.” He smiled warmly at Dean.

Dean beamed back at him. “I’ll wait until I’ve actually got a job before I plan any home improvements,” he chuckled, “Gotta start paying rent first.”

“Dean, take your time, honestly, it’s ok-”

Dean’s finger on Castiel’s lips stopped the other man from speaking. “Cas, dude, first thing tomorrow I am job hunting. You’ve given me a chance when I probably didn’t deserve it. I’m going to spend the rest of my life repaying you.” He blushed slightly at what his last few words sounded like, though the idea wasn’t completely unwelcome.

Castiel understood the unintentional double meaning too, if the pink on his cheeks was anything to go by.

* * *

Dean still had his bad days. Days when he couldn’t help but feel like such a burden to everyone around him, Castiel especially. Days when all he wanted to do was pack up and run away. Even some days when he wanted to look for the nearest bridge again.

But for every one of those days, Dean had plenty more that made him keep fighting. For every day that he fell to the floor, he had someone to fight his corner and pick him back up again.

And, in the end, Dean never needed to redecorate his room. It turned into the guest room less than two months after he arrived.

A/N: I went on a bit of a rollercoaster with this one! First I hated it, now I quite like it and am thinking of doing a couple of timestamps/sequels in the future maybe.

If you liked what you saw, REBLOG! and consider reserving a prompt from my ‘30 Destiel Prompts’ challenge, or just send me your own prompt you’d like me to fill!

TAGS: @eccentriccas @starrynightdeancas @credentiast @imbiowaresbitch @starclaire @cockleslovesdestiel @bend-me-shape-me @destielfactory @dea-stiel @wendeano @wingsandimpalas @aggressivedean @flowersforcas @chill-legilimens @pancakesofthelord @saltnhalo @caslikescoffeeandfreckles @assbuttboyfriends @jhoomwrites @breathingdestiel @simplymisha @thekingslover

(just tagging a bunch of cool peeps, let me know if you want to be tagged/removed in future works)

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pokeasleepingsmaug · 4 years

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To Curse A King

Back on my bullshit again, so here’s a Sihtric x Skade crackship.

Summary: Skade wants to secure the Danish victory the only way she knows how, and there’s only one man in the Danish camp who claims to have knowledge of curses. Set when Sihtric has pretended to betray Uhtred and is in the Danish camp.

Trigger Warnings: Blood, knife play, smut

Tagging: @whenimaunicorn @aadmelioraa @itslaurenmae

AO3, if you prefer.

Skade does not flinch as the knife pierces the skin at the crook of her elbow, and she does not struggle against the firm hand holding her wrist in place. She has cut herself so many times in the working of her magic, it does not even bother her when someone else holds the knife.

The knife drags from elbow to wrist, the cut long but shallow, blood welling in a slow trickle, and Skade has always thought the brightness of blood is beautiful against her pale skin. A twisted thought, perhaps, but why else would the gods call her to such a life, if not to revel in that which gives her power?

She meets the eyes of her unwilling assistant, the only man among this whole company of useless Danes who claims to have any knowledge of curses. He is probably not the only one, in truth, but the only one who is not afraid to be called unmanly. He has proven herself time and again on the battlefield; any who dare to call him such will meet a swift end within a square of hazel rods. He told her he threw a curse once, met her eyes steady and calm when he said it, not a hint of remorse, and Brida laughed.

Skade believes him. It is her business to know things; and rumors fly around this camp. Hasten knows even more than Skade herself, and he can't keep a secret when he's in his cups. Sihtric may call himself Elflaedsson, and his father may have been killed long before Skade sailed to this doomed island, but she knows who it is that whelped Sihtric on a Saxon slave-girl.

She is not surprised that Sihtric once threw a curse, and she has a fair guess about his target. He is ideal for this spellwork, anyway. Dane and Saxon in one body, one eye blue and the other brown, the perfect melding of light and dark.

Sihtric stabs the knife into the cold ground, burying it to the hilt, before he grabs Skade’s bare arm and swipes his pointer finger through the blood. He touches each of her eyelids, his fingertip light as a butterfly, before his hand darts to her lips and paints them, too.

Skade slides the knife from the sheath at her waist and cuts Sihtric's arm from wrist to elbow in one deliberate stroke, an equal and opposite wound to her own. She stabs it viciously into the ground beside his, drags her finger through his blood, and touches his eyelids and lips.

Finally she takes their arms and presses the wounds together to mix their blood, the first of their two joinings under tonight's new moon: the time when secrets come to life, when clandestine affairs are revealed, when the darkest impulses of man and nature hold sway.

A perfect night to curse a king.

Sihtric shivers when she pulls his shirt over his head, but he’s still as stone when she draws the runes on him: algiz, for protection, right over his heart, because this is a spell that can so easily go awry. Naunuz, for distress, low on his belly. It is no secret that Alfred has troubles there.

Skade grabs the wooden bowl that waits by the fire, bitter herbs and crushed mushrooms steeping in water boiled before Sihtric cut her arm. It should be at full strength by now.

Skade gulps half the bitter liquid down. Sihtric takes the bowl from her hands, and his eyes, grim and unreadable, meet hers over the rim as he tips it to drink. His throat bobs in long swallows. He shakes his head, as if to rid himself of the taste, and tosses the bowl into the fire.

The flames jump higher as they lap up the dregs of the potion. Skade should be annoyed that he tossed her best bowl into the fire; instead, she is only transfixed by the dancing of the flames as the magic begins to move in her. She takes off her own dress as Sihtric unties his trousers. The night air is cold and comforting against her flushed skin, raising goosebumps on her arms when a light breeze hits her.

She rubs her hands over her arms and finally looks over at Sihtric, sitting cross-legged a few feet away from her. His clothes are neatly folded by the fire, she notes with faint amusement. This will not be a joining of tenderness, but that doesn’t mean she can’t enjoy it, anyway. Her cool gaze sweeps him over, admiring the planes of his face in the firelight, the play of silver scars over his sword-Dane’s body. He is a man without an inch of softness on him, all hard muscle and sharp angles. He may be the most beautiful man she has ever had.

Skade starts toward him. Her hand lands on his shoulder, and she’s shocked by the warmth of him. The magic always does that, makes her surprised by the smallest physical sensations, brings a more intense awareness to every feeling. She revels in it and fears it: the way it makes her powerful and vulnerable all at once. Every blessing must come with its own curse, she muses.

For all that Sihtric is a warrior, for all that he will be the vessel for her curse to pass to Alfred--for all that it will hurt for the brief time the curse is within him--she does not think that he will take advantage of her in this vulnerable state.

He wraps his arms around her waist as he falls to the ground, and Skade is shocked when his lips press gently against hers. “It will hurt,” she reminds him softly, almost feeling guilty, but his momentary suffering will be nothing in the face of Danish victory. The death of Alfred will all but secure it; it is his iron will and cunning mind that have kept them at bay.

“I do not fear pain,” Sihtric assures her, his breath warm and sweet against her lips. His hands are curious and soft as they wander over her, exploring the heft of her breasts and the curve of her waist before sliding to the junction between her thighs. She knows this is not a joining of affection for him, either, but still she appreciates the consideration he shows to make sure she is prepared.

He flicks a deft finger over the nub at her apex, and Skade allows herself to tangle her fingers in his soft hair, to trace the tattooed snakes curving over his ears, to enjoy the hitch of his breath as her fingertips skim down his neck. She wraps a hand around his thick shaft. His skin is delicate as petals beneath her palm. She strokes him slowly, her mouth dropping open as she savors the feel of him in her hand.

His finger moves back to explore her slit. She’s already wet after his expert work on her clit, and he slips a finger into her to judge just how ready she is. He curls it unexpectedly, hitting a spot that makes her gasp against his lips, and she can feel his smile. His hands settle firmly on her hips, guiding her. Skade lines her opening up with his head and slides onto him as slowly as she can bear. She dreads the moment when he’ll fill her completely, when the curse will enter into his body. Finally, after what feels like an eternity but is only seconds, she’s taken every bit of him.

Sihtric gasps and writhes beneath her; a lesser man would scream. Skade can see his pain in the way he tears into his own lips with his teeth, can feel it in the fingers bruising her hips. “Hurry,” he rasps, and Skade is compelled to obey. She rides him hard, her hands pressing his shoulders into the ground as he tries to curl into himself. She hates to deny him that, his body instinctively seeking relief from the agonies of her curse.

She leans down to kiss him, tasting blood on his lips, and he twists his fingers into her long hair and anchors her mouth to his. He kisses her like a man desperate to feel something, and Skade is glad to give him what little distraction she can offer. She guides one of his hands from her hip to her breast, kisses him with as much sweetness as she can muster. It doesn’t feel like enough as he shudders beneath her, each breath a gasping groan.

Skade redoubles her efforts, feels herself start to clench around him. She’s just on the edge of coming when he suddenly throws her off and lunges to all fours. He wraps one hand around his cock and strokes himself quickly, once, twice, and then spurts his seed onto the ground. He freezes when he’s finished, trembling and panting, and fear cuts through the magic, cuts through her arousal, heavy and sick.

“Sihtric?” Her voice seems to shock him into awareness, and he raises his gaze to her with a nod.

“The pain is gone.” He sounds giddy with relief, and he loops an arm around her waist and pulls her close. His skin is clammy despite the night’s chill, and sweat plasters his hair to his cheeks. He presses a slow kiss to her bare shoulder.

“Good thing you remembered to come onto the ground. For all that he’s a Christian king, he’s still bound to the land. The curse will go to him through the ground,” Skade says. She told him this earlier, but this is the closest she can come to telling him that he’s done well. She does not have that kindness in her.

“The next time you need help with curses, ask someone else,” Sihtric breathes against her skin.

“I thought you did not fear pain?” Skade asks, brows rising, gently teasing. She strokes his hair back, allows herself a small moment of tenderness to kiss his temple.

“I fear curses,” Sihtric corrects. He looks at her with wide eyes luminous in the firelight, and he is utterly tender as he guides her to lay back on the ground. “And the women who throw them.”

But that fear does not stop him from kissing her slowly, from covering her body with his, from keeping her in dark woods until their fire is little more than embers.

#the last kingdom #the last kingdom fic #let's be danes ⚔️#let's be danes #sihtric #sihtric elflaedsson #skade #sihtric x skade #the last kingdom fanfic #sihtric fic #skade fic

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linnea-quinn · 4 years

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[ EVERYTHING YOU EVER WANTED TO KNOW ABOUT VEELA ]

An Informative Research Document Compiled by The Librarian’s Consortium of Higher Magical Theory, Narrative Preservation, & Knowledge Procurement

Shelved in UK Catalogue: Magical Species: Beings: Veela

Edited by: Sr. Librn. Benjamin Arnold, Intake Officer, European Division {editor’s notations in braces}

In Muggle Folklore

Referred to colloquially as samodiva or samovila in the Veelan country of origin, Bulgaria, the Muggles’ perception of the Veelan race has been fraught with misconception. Locally equated with mythology surrounding fae, forest spirits, and wood nymphs, a brief compilation of relevant Muggle beliefs about Veela is as follows:

The name samodiva is formed by combining two separate words, ‘samo’ and ‘diva’. The former means ‘alone’, whilst the latter ‘wild’, or ‘divine’, hence the name literally means ‘wild alone’. The first part of the creature’s name signifies its avoidance of human beings, whereas the second indicates her wild or divine nature. {In truth, the Veelan race are highly secretive in what they share about their kind with magical and Muggle communities alike.}

The samodivi are always described as extremely beautiful women who never age. {Not quite factual; see sec. below: “Lifespan” for facts regarding Veelan aging.} They have long, blonde hair and bright blue eyes. Their attire consists of a long white gown made of moonbeams. Other legends depict them as ethereal maidens with long, loose hair, and in some cases, wings, typically dressed in free-flowing, feathered white gowns, which give them the power of flight. {Perhaps a historical perception of the Veelan Harpy form.}

Stories about the samodivi often portray them as being harmful towards human beings. Although these creatures enjoy dancing, especially when accompanied by the music of a kaval or shepherd’s pipe, they often either seduce or kidnap a shepherd to obtain that music. If an unfortunate human stumbles on the samodivi whilst they are dancing, he would be enticed to join them. The human, not being able to keep up with their pace, would die of exhaustion. Beginning at midnight and finishing at dawn, their dance symbolized the raw energy of both nature and the supernatural world. {No truth to the menacing intent behind this myth, but the Veela’s Dance has been known to evoke a trancelike response in some humans; see section below: “Active Abilities.” Also calls to mind the ritualistic birthing practices of Veela; see section below: “Veelan Conception & Birth”}

Some legends depict samodivas with an affinity for fire. They have the power to bring about drought, burn a farmer's crops, or make cattle die of high fever. It is said that, when angered, a samodiva can change her appearance and turn into a monstrous bird, capable of throwing fire at her enemies. {Another early reference to the Harpy form.}

They are usually hostile and dangerous to people. Men who gaze upon a samodiva fall instantly in love or in lust. Sometimes a samodiva would seduce a person, commonly a shepherd or a trespasser in her forest, and take them for her lover. However, in doing so, she would take all of their life energy. The person would then become obsessed with the samodiva and chase her relentlessly, unable to think of anything else. The samodiva, fueled by the energy stolen from her admirer, would then proceed to torture the person until he died of exhaustion. {See sections below: “Active Abilities” & “Passive Abilities” for facts which could have inspired such myths.}

A samodiva's power is believed to come mostly from her long (usually blond) hair. A samodiva would sometimes give a small portion of it to her lover to strengthen her control over him via its magical effects. However, if her hair is damaged in some way, she will either disappear entirely or be stripped of her powers and beauty. {Little truth to this myth beyond the magical properties contained in Veelan hair, which is infrequently used as a wix wand core.}

A samodiva's close connection to the forest makes her knowledgeable about magical herbs and cures for all illnesses. It is said that if a person managed to eavesdrop on a gathering of samodivas he could also gain knowledge of these remedies. In many stories, this is exactly what the hero is forced to do to save a loved one, as a samodiva would never share her secrets willingly. In Macedonian folklore, samovila's are often seen that they have the ability to hurt people or to heal them. {See section below: “Passive Abilities” regarding accelerated healing.}

Veelan Conception & Birth

The process by which Veela bear children is not fully understood, but what we do know is that to become pregnant, a Veela must copulate with Intent, in sync with the Natural Harmonics of the area, and after a ritual involving one full Moon Cycle.

Births of newborn Veela commonly happen late evening or early morning while the moon is still visible. The birth of a full-blooded Veela is a dedicated occasion that involves a number of members of the community at once, as neither the conception nor birth are as typical as Humans. The birth of two full-blooded Veelan twins is a rarity amongst the species, and is a highly coveted, sacred occurrence.

Due to the mishap of the Birth of the Twins, the birth is overseen by members of the community to ensure no nefarious acts are occurring, that those involved are protected, and that the ritual can take place comfortably beneath the moon. The presence of a matriarch for the Veelan bloodline being sired is preferable during the birthing ritual.

Lifespan

A common misconception regarding Veela is that they are immortal; in truth, Veela do age, albeit very slowly in comparison to humans and even wix lifespans. Full-blooded Veela average a lifespan of one thousand years, while a half-blooded Veela will average 500-600 years.

A Veela will mature at a rate comparable to humans through “puberty”; roughly 12-17 years after a Veela’s birth they will experience the most growth and development of their passive abilities, and after approximately eighteen years, a Veela is considered fully mature in their society, and will not appear to significantly age until the last 20-50 years of their life. It is likely this quality that perpetuates the myth of Veela being eternally youthful.

Passive Abilities

Known for their beauty, a Veela’s allure is in fact biological; most humans are drawn to Veela, and have been often noted to experience lust and desire while in the presence of a Veela at a heightened or even sometimes overwhelming rate.

Full-blooded Veela possess the ability to transform into a winged, part-bird Harpy-form when enraged, and while in this form they can shoot fireballs from their hands. This shifted form has not been recorded as passed on to part-Veela historically; however, there are several cases of noted affinity to birds in particular, which is theorized to stem from the Veelan Harpy form.

Veelan blood has accelerated healing properties, which means those of Veelan descent heal from cosmetic wounds more rapidly, have difficulty maintaining piercings and tattoos, and are rarely known to contract common illnesses. Historically, Veelan blood was highly sought after by wix, often hunted for and sold on the medicine circuit to aid in healing. Veelan blood is noted to smell irresistible to vampires, and possess a drug-like high on vampires who consume it. Lesser known about is the healing qualities a Veela’s saliva can have on a human wound; in fact, the modern practice of kissing an injury to “make it better” comes from a very old Veelan medicinal practice of kissing an injury to heal it.

Veela are generally highly in tune with the natural world, including plants and animals, and most report being more comfortable the closer they are to nature. Veela also reportedly possess a latent ability to sense energies that are not perceptible to most humans in a physical way, but it’s a sense that must be nurtured and developed; most Veela have been known to channel these mysterious energies into their own form of wandless magic.

Active Abilities

The Veela Charm

“You have to feel it. It’s like fog; gentle and delicate, but enough for you to sense against your skin. It has its own waves, its own currents, and you, my darling, have the power to guide it. You can slip it into the minds of Men and haze them, make them believe whatever you desire, and bend them to your will to act however you see fit. Or, you can wrap it around despair and smother it where it stands, press it into wounds to cloud and ease their pain. It is up to you to choose how it is used, but however you choose— do it with conviction.”

Also known as glamouring or charmé, the act of imposing a Veela Charm on a human or Being involves drawing in express emotional energy from another and then pushing it back into the mind of the person being Charmed, along with the power of the Veela’s will. Those that are experiencing strong or otherwise turbulent emotions are significantly easier to Charm, due to the emotional expenditure they’re putting out. This is especially true of emotions related to desire and anger (’passions running high,’ related to the duality of the Veela’s alluring female form and the rage-fueled Harpy-form), but can be true also of jealousy, anxiety, sadness, worry, joy, disgust, fear, hatred, love, etc.

The nature of the Charm causes the person being Charmed to be susceptible to a Veela’s suggestion, to varying degrees; for the average or half-blooded Veela, the effect equates roughly to intense emotional coercion or persuasion, that when administered properly is often indistinguishable from the Charmed’s own wants and decisions. Those under the influence of a Veela Charm are noted to experience rosy vision, and an intensified desire to please the Veela who is Charming them by doing what they suggest. Full-blooded and more powerful Veela are able to gain such control over the mind of the Charmed, however, that they can fully persuade the subconscious to their own will, effectively altering the Charmed’s perceived reality. For all Veela, the ability to generate and impose a Veela Charm is a learned skill that can be developed and mastered with practice and time.

The most powerful among the Veelan race who experience the highest level of control over their abilities are even able to perform a Veela Charm on other Veela, though this practice is highly frowned upon in Veelan society {see subsection below: “Sins”}

Less common but still practiced amongst some Veelan circles is imbibing non-sentient lifeforms, such as flowers and plants, with traces of the Veela Charm, which causes anyone in near proximity to the item to experience a highly diluted emotional effect based on the will of the Veela who performed the Charm.

The Veela’s Dance

When full-blooded Veela perform together in a ritualized dance, the effect on humans has been characterized as mesmerizing and even hypnotic, in such a way that those watching will enter a trancelike state in which they experience a loss of words, and will sometimes try to impress the Veela in foolhardy ways.

Link of Kin

Originally known as vrŭzka na krŭvta, or “bond of blood” in Bulgarian, the Link or Nexus of Kin is a phenomenon of consciousness connection between Veela in the same bloodline. While Linked, a pair or group of Veela experience an intense magical empathic connection which allows them to feel each others’ emotions on a sensory and telepathic communicative level, as well as share memories. This process is known to be calming and meditative--a heightened zen-like state similar to the ease Veela naturally feel in the presence of other Veela, but exponentially more powerful the more Veela are Linked. The “blood connection” is thought of as sacred and spiritual to Veela, whose long lifespans place particular gravity on family, lineage, and collective memory.

The Link of Kin is a learned process; however, very rarely, a Veela will be a Nexus Born Natural. Such a Veela would, from the earliest development of their abilities, experience an involuntary empathic connection with humans and other Beings, drawing in emotional energy with noticeable physical sensation, as well as sensing the “lifeforce” of the consciousness of others, and sometimes unintentionally mirroring or reflecting drawn-in emotions that are not their own. A Born Natural’s abilities are notoriously difficult to control and require dedicated focus and training to master, lest the Veela become overwhelmed by the constant influx of outside energetic stimuli.

Cold Iron

It’s been shown through some limited study that both passive and active Veelan abilities can be lessened, minimized, and even warded off entirely through the controversial use of cold-forged iron.

A process known only by Goblinkind and kept highly secretive by the same, the cold iron must be forged using a precise process, and then bound to the wix’s aura for the relative immunity to Veelan abilities to be effective. Any slip up in this process can result in disastrous, irreparable damage to a person’s aura. {Recommend further testing and study on the effects of cold iron in relation to Veela and wix.}

Veelan Society

Veelan society is largely matriarchal, with Veelan male offspring being something of a rarity in terms of percentage. Because of the long lifespans of Veela, a Veelan matriarch’s successor is selected prior to their death, and can be chosen from any of the matriarch’s Veelan kin, regardless of their age; often, a new reigning Veela matriarch will be selected based on merit and their contributions to Veelan society as a whole.

Similarly, the death of any Veela is considered a great loss to the societal collective, and as such, the death of a Veela is mourned internationally. All Veela are made aware of their passing and permitted a compulsory mourning period for their fallen kin.

Sins

A set of rules taught to and followed by all Veela which, should they be broken, are considered Sin(s);

None should use the Charm against another Veela. Despite being difficult to achieve, if done the consequences can be exile or even death, depending on the nature of the Sin.

No other Beings are permitted within or around the spaces owned by a brood without prior approval by the Matriarch.

Veela & Other Beings

Veela & Were-Beings/Half-Breeds

With their connection to the moon and close relationship with animals themselves, Veela and Were-Beings tend to get on surprisingly well; they manage to find a common ground on many fronts, their Harpy blood lending to a softness and kinship.

Veela & Vampires: Siblings

{NOTE: THIS SECTION HAS BEEN MARKED AS SENSITIVE AND RESHELVED FOR FURTHER ANALYSIS}

...

{For further study, known Veelan Bloodlines, historical succession disputes, or notable Veelan figures and historically significant events, please consult Appendices A-E of the catalogue Magical Species: Beings: Veela.}

#this is subject to additions and edits but i literally could not look at it anymore lmaooo #libcon #HUGE THANK YOU TO LISA FOR ALL YOUR HELP ON THIS

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medicifm · 4 years

Text

* not me actually writing an intro the night before like i always mean to 😳 hennyway hey biddies , i'm chloe , im in the snowy part of pst , & i use she / her pns . i’ve been . . . . . . . scouring the tags for an rp like this so im so excited to bring this newish muse of mine here ! im here to do the honours of introducing my himbo - on - the outside , manipulative - shit - on - the - inside . . . oscar 🤡

( twenty three , cis man , he / him ) ✉ ― hey babes , have you met OSCAR MEDICI ? they’re working here as THE HEAD CHEF AT LORENZO’S , a few villas down from where you’re staying . you might hear them singing ALRIGHTY APHRODITE BY PEACH PIT playing from their villa , it’s their favourite song . yes , they hear that they look like JACK GILINSKY a lot , actually - it’s really uncanny . their friends back home in SYDNEY , AUSTRALIA say that if they were on a tv show , their trope would be THE WOLF IN SHEEP’S CLOTHING , how funny is that ? ✎ chloe , 22 , she/her , pst

𝐢 .

pinterest | wanted plots |

𝐢𝐢 .

name : oscar gabriel medici

age : twenty three

dob / sign : december 4th , 1997 / sagittarius sun , leo moon , libra rising

pob : sydney , australia

gender / pronouns : cis man & he / him / his

career : head chef at lorenzo’s , full - time heathen , professional disappointment for mothers everywhere .

drinking / drugs / smoking : yes / more often than he’d admit / never .

religion : jewish background , currently non - practicing .

physical : jack gilinsky fc , dark brown / black longish curls ( reference ) , dark brown eyes , canon jack g’s tattoos , no piercings , 6′2″ , 175 lbs , lean but strong . tattoos a la canon!jack , pearly white smile that he may . . . or may not . . . use crest 3D white strips weekly to maintain . lots of burns & scars from kitchen mishaps on his hands & arms .

traits : hard - working , flighty , intelligent , hedonistic , charismatic , intense , volatile ,

other : speaks weird french ( aussie accent tings ) , tans easily but wears sunscreen nonetheless , works hard parties harder , can’t read a lick of french but spends a lot of his free time with a coffee & a new paperback , has a bit of an internal vendetta against rich people ( for no real reason , he just doesn’t like most of them ) , has ins with a bunch the local farmers & visits them weekly , pretends he isn’t lowkey addicted to nicotine administered via a puff bar , liquor of preference is tequila or red wine , drives a lil vespa around town for the gag of it ( loves seeing it haphazardly parked amongst a bunch of luxury cars ) ,

character inspo : jess mariano ( gilmore girls ) , gordon ramsey 🤡 , patrick verona ( 10 things i hate about you ) , ferris bueller ( ferris bueller’s day off ) , han solo ( star wars ) .

𝐢𝐢𝐢 .

oscar’s arrival was as unwanted to his parents as could be : a father whose tendencies leaned towards alcoholism & abusing whoever was in arms reach , a mother whose life was more or less spent at the nursing home she worked as a nurse at , evading home . he became a self - inflicted loner , preferring to do literally the exact opposite of what was expected or wanted from him . he had a few friends he ran with , but watching them all go off & study or prepare for university solidified in oscar’s mind that the non - traditional route was for him . growing up by the water , oscar always felt more drawn to skip school & head to the beach than he did obeying his parents wishes .

one of his solaces was his grandfather , gabriel , who owned an italian restaurant in a beach town north of sydney . whenever the weather was bad & oscar felt like ditching class , he’d head over to his nono’s restaurant where his ass would be put to work as soon as he set eyes on the restaurant . it was tough work , but challenging in a way that fanned the flames in oscar’s heart , rather than dimming them . by the time he was a teenager he was working in the restaurant everyday after school , an agreement between him & his grandfather framed on the back wall that stated that as long as oscar kept from flunking out , he was allowed to spend as little or as much time in the kitchen as he pleased .

his absolute defiance of anything traditional & following the rules made him unpopular with adults , but lowkey cool with the girls . by the time he was sixteen , he was losing his focus on the restaurant & his grades & spending more & more time chasing after girls . his nono tried to get oscar to come back & focus , but as always , anything he’s asked to do quickly becomes the thing he’s running from the most .

tw : death , cancer . around his eighteenth birthday , his grandfather suddenly fell ill with a rare form of cancer that took his life six weeks after diagnosis , which rocked oscar’s world . he felt overwhelming guilt that he hadn’t spent more time with his grandfather , which manifested itself as oscar dropping out of school a year shy of graduation to commit himself fully to perfecting his grandfather’s techniques , learning all of his recipes ( read : pouring over dozens of handwritten cookbooks ) in some failed attempt to get back some time with him . oscar hadn’t been close with his parents in years , more or less seeing them as wardens of a prison he wanted nothing to do with . his grandfather’s will left him the deed to the restaurant , with an ask that oscar would promise to act on whatever he felt called towards , rather than doing what others expected of him . to be candid , this whole situation crushed him .

eventually , he decided he’d had enough of the stifling community he’d grown up in . he sold the restaurant to one of the regulars , a wealthy man who he’d come to acknowledge as somewhat of an uncle ; a safe pair of hands who would treat his grandfather’s legacy with as much passion & respect as oscar himself would . so he packed a bag , texted his mom that he was going traveling , & got on a flight that evening . he traveled all around - first through central america , then through europe , throughout asia & africa , & spent a few months driving a van across the continental united states & canada for fun .

eventually , he started getting low - ish on money , & decided to settle in one of his favourite places he’d visited : southern france . he arrived in early 2018 , taking on whatever menial tasks he could while learning french until he got a position as a line cook in an italian restaurant . a few years later , he’s made his way up to filling the head chef position , an honour he takes with pride ��. he’s implemented many of his own recipes while using flavours he’s learned from his travels , with ingredients straight from local farmers . he’s earned the restaurant a two michelin star rating , & is constantly striving for more to get that last star ( both for his own ego as well as a secret debt to his grandfather ) .

𝐢𝐯 .

ok but that vid where gordon puts two pieces of bread on someone’s head & calls them an idiot sandwich ? that’s oscar . intense as fuck in the kitchen , & best nobody catch an attitude about it bc he will not hesitate to hand them their ass on a silver platter .

another gordon reference : you know how he’s the spawn of satan with adults , but the sweetest , most helpul guy with children ? that’s oscar with his staff vs people he wants something from . whether its to sleep with them ( usually his first instinct to be fair ) , their money or clout , or to get into some wild adventure some random resort staff wouldn’t dream of getting into , he can turn on the charm whenever needed .

can go from absolutely demoralizing someone in the kitchen to stepping out into the lounge to schmooze with his friends or cougars who leave phat tips in 0.2 seconds . the speed at which his mood can completely 180 is one of the seven world wonders ( last i checked ) .

his love language is absolutely acts of service . catch him actually falling in love once in a blue moon & making it his mission to cook her extravagant meals everyday .

the wolf in sheep’s clothing label epitomizes his nice , helpful , charismatic exterior , while ulterior motives & disdain for those who grew up with more money than he did lurk beneath the surface .

he can be MEAN when someone fucks him over or pushes him farther than he wants - isn’t afraid to go for the low blows or send someone home with an identity crisis if it protects himself .

lowkey alcoholic but he’s not ready for that conversation yet . he sees it more as perks of the location & atmosphere he’s found himself in .

also lowkey falls in love HARD , like this man is a closeted romantic but self - sabotages all potential relationships before they can get to that point out of fear he’ll be unable to live life of his own volition ( takes a flaky philophobic sagittarius to know a flaky philophobic sagittarius 🤡 ) . has probably only had a few real relationships besides flings bc he’s afraid .

𝐯 .

check out my wanted plots tag listed here , as well as my pinterest wanted plots board here . here are some other suggestions hehe :

best friend / ride or die : someone who knows about his past , keeps him grounded when he’s lk spiraling & wants to drop everything & flee to some far flung corner of the earth .

actual relationship : it was fast - burn with deep feelings ( not them thinking they’re soulmates after dating for a month . . . pete & ariana type beat ) but completely unrealistic . they have their own life , he’s pretty much tied to the restaurant , not to mention his lack of sharing anything about his childhood / life back home . they loved & cared for each other , but crashed & burned fairly quickly because of how idealistic it was . they can either be on bad or good terms now .

hateship with sexual tension 😈

summer flings !!

fake boyfriend : he shows up on her arm to her family’s events where she’s expected to have a partner . it’s not a real relationship , but her parents don’t need to know that . he plays the part & satisfies her parents beyond the bare minimum , & in return she invites him to parties , takes him out on her family’s yacht , etc etc . we luv some symbiosis

i can always use more fwbs hehehe

squad : a group of people who do everything together , have a chaotic group chat , have nicknames for one another , are utd on each other’s sex lives , party all night then show up to brunch hungover together .

cat & mouse : someone he’s pursuing who isn’t quite giving in , & vice versa . maybe it’s been going on a few years , everytime they’re in st tropez they have this weird lil flirtationship thing goin on until she leaves , they forget about one another , then pick it right back up when she returns .

confidant : preferably someone from a working class background who understands his plight of being a worker amongst people who expect to be waited on .

enemies : they don’t like his attitude , & he doesn’t like them in return . lots of eye rolls , shit talking , & tension between their mutual friends .

we’re sleeping together but we shouldn’t be but that’s half the fun : for whatever reason they became friends , starting hooking up despite it not being a good idea ( read : he’s exes with one of her friends , her parents want her focused on career , they’re part of the same friend group , etc ) . . . but now they can’t stop . lots of stolen glances across rooms , squeezing past one another in a crowded club just close enough for a quick touch to the back , quietly leaving one another’s places the morning after & playing dumb to anyone who asks .

#villasintro #eeeek im hyped !!

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vicecityhq · 3 years

Photo

██████████████]99% LOADING...SUSPECT INTO THE APD DATABASE...

WITNESS(ES) SAY HE REMINDS THEM OF: the Italian Mafia, the sound of Lo-Fi beats, a coffee house . With a slight resemblance to NAKAMOTO YUTA of/the NCT 127.

CLICK BELOW TO VIEW ENTIRE FILE.

FULL FILE:

Last Name, First Name: Maiko, Akuyoshi ALIAS: The Crow Realm of birth(if earth, nationality): Japanese Age: 73 Date of Birth: October 31st, 1948 Gender: Cismale Preferred Pronouns: He/Him Species: Demon Occupation: N/A Sexual Orientation: Bisexual

VISUAL FILE:

Skin Color: Pale Eye color: One dark grey almost black the other black with red, white and gold flecks in the iris Scars: two burn scars on either temple, faint scars on his wrists and ankles from long term restraints Piercings: 10 up his right ear from lobe to the top, 5 on his left ear (double lobe, cartilage, helix and daith) Tattoos: Many sporadic tattoos up his arms, and a few on his chest, hip and back. Hair color: jet black with a white/greyish streak in the front Abnormalities: his eyes, and his hair color is natural Horns/ wings/ etc: Transformed form: Akuyoshi’s transformed (demon) form is a four eyed creature with two long black horns coming from his head, dark shadow like wings sprout from his back. The corner of his mouth extend into a sharped tooth grin and his nails grow to abnormal lengths.

PERSONAL FILE:

RELIGIOUS BELIEF: N/A SINS: greed / gluttony / sloth / lust / pride / envy / wrath VIRTUES: chastity / charity / diligence / humility / kindness / patience / justice KNOWN LANGUAGES: Russian, Japanese, English and Below Average Korean SECRETS: The reported terroistic attack on the KGB agency was carried out solely by him, he was in the wind before they could find him. SAVVIES: Guitar, Tinkering/fixing things, Cooking, Assassin work Powers & Abilities: Darkness manipulation, minor pyrokenisis, the ability to possess the living(any 'undead' creatures are immuned), life draining, Infrakenisis (with limitations due to being on earth), Demonic Psionics (with limitations due to being on earth), and able to summon creatures from hell. Expert Stealth, Assassination Tactics, Knowledge in various tranquilizers and poisons, Knowledge in various ways of body disposal, Advance knifing abilities (this includes throwing knives, regular knives, swords and katanas). Traits: patriarchal & mysterious

BACKGROUND CHECK:

Date of Birth: October 31st, 1948 Date of Death: [ if applying for an undead character ] Crime Record: He hates most authority figures, the ones that use their power over others to control them. He’s on many watch lists for assassination of political leaders (rumored), various counts of murder (alleged), various counts of torture (alleged) and a connection to a wealthy and quite suspicious operation worked out of the human city (also alleged), he has never been convicted. He is also technically the sole suspect of the slaughter of 25 KGB agents, 3 high ranked scientists and 2 high ranked psychologist back in 1964.

Background/Biography:

tw: this passage includes vague descriptions of murder, mind control, non-l conscentual impregnation, drug use, sexual abuse, rape, abuse of a minor, blood , parental death, death during childbirth and torture.

Once you are locked away by fiery bars, too powerful to be allowed loose in the human realm or any other, when some from even the darkest depths and realms fear your name on their lips you find yourself, aching to create the chaos you so desperately seek. Cursed to spend the rest of your days roaming the underworld in a special sanctuary for the protection of other hellspawns...and the world, with no way of getting to those realms, in fear of their ultimate destruction what could you possibly do to sate your disgusting lust for those around you to suffer. Easily, he would say, a powerful demon whose name they refused to utter, you create someone else to do the job for you. Sure possession is an option, but all it takes is some divine force to remedy that, especially when it comes to humans, so you….steal a vessel, create living breathing flesh to carry out your sadistic tendencies while you watch from the depths of Hell. All you need is someone to hold it, just for nine months.

Akame Miako’s obsession with the occult lead to her being that vessel. An only child to a hardworking and quite wealthy family in her village she seemed to counter the intense loneliness with spell books and rituals, stories of demonic possession and seances peaked her interest and she went as far to invite one into her home...kind of. Akame didn’t think the stories were true, easy access to summon something that even some other demons feared was far fetched for a mere mortal like her, besides even if she did , she was sure it’d be harmless, as harmless as demon could get. The translation from Latin to Japanese was a bit murky, she did all the things she was supposed to do, shut the door, lit the onyx colored candles and chanted his name. It tasted foul on her lips, metallic and sour as if blood had suddenly come up her throat like bile. The room grew in heat and sweat matted her jet black hair to her forehead, with all this build up the young teen would think that something was bound to happen right? But simply only the candle blew out, casting her room into darkness only set alite by the moon, of course she was right, it was all hullabaloo probably something conjured up by her great great gran something to spook their little village.

But what Akame hadn’t known, was that she’d open the door for exactly what He want ed, she would become his vessel, allowing him to breathe life into flesh another piece of him roaming the planet. It only took a few weeks for her to notice the signs, a usually healthy 18-year-old spent her mornings vomiting crimson, and her nights in searing abdominal pain, maybe a plague was sweeping through their village once more, it wouldn’t be the first time and sure wouldn’t be the last, but it had only been Akame who was harboring this, torturous disease. She hid it for as long as she could, not wanting her parents to worry, time off work meant a dwindle in their status and that was something they couldn’t afford, it wasn’t ‘til her mother founder her, writhing in pain on the floor that the village doctor was called, with a diagnosis no one was expecting, Akame was pregnant. There was no way of convincing her parents that she hadn’t gone against her pledge to wait ‘til marriage. They hadn’t believed that she was some Virgin Mary and she couldn’t even explain it herself. But, an unwed mother and her father’s place in the countries politics was something that they couldn’t afford, they’d locked her away until the babies birth, and it wasn’t until then when they found something was horribly, horribly wrong. It was a taxing birth, the room creaked and groaned, disembodied voices filled the empty space, her stomach twisting and contorting as the creature fought its way out of her. It tore her apart, as it crowned, and Akame was not equipped to handle it. Her feeble and young, she perished as the baby was born leaving her parents in mourning, and the doctor in fear. What was it? Why had it come with jet black hair and dark eyes? Why had it rejected the doctors blessing, crying and wailing as if the prayer was causing it great pain? He could only advise its remaining living relatives one thing, get rid of it.

The Miakofamily wasn’t to keen on killing an infant, in fact they flat out refused, telling the doctor there must be some way to get it far away from them without causing it any harm. They traveled for years, keeping the demonic entity at arms length before an unsuspected visitor received a tantalizing letter. The man was stone cold, with a charming smile, he had a weird accent and shining blue eyes, he’d pay them good money to take the now toddling child into what he called, a ‘school of reform for lost boys’. They took the bate, and the money, almost sad to see it go but happy to be rid of something that they were sure harbored some evil, the thing that killed their daughter, their only child. He said he’d rid it of whatever evil’s that may have come with it, that where it was going it would emerge a new man, and maybe one they would want to communicate with again. Masked by pearly gates and brass door knockers, they weren’t told about the extensive training, and weren't told about the weapon he’d become. How they would abuse him, strip him of his identity and show him how to use his striking looks for his own gain. They didn’t tell him about the monster he’d become, the new man that they’d create on their own accord. And he excelled, climbing in their ranking and leaving bodies and broken bones behind him. His body filled, cut clean, and he followed orders to ever ‘t’. He was reformed sure, a weapon now, molded to their perfect standard, used and abused, raped and pillaged for their own use somewhere in the world, they wanted a monster, masked by something so beautiful and enticing, and so he became one, using his powers at their will. It was a team full of creatures just like him, western Asia’s super weapon.

They assumed that he would continue to stay obedient, assumed he’d bend to their every will, for the rest of his life, but they were not careful, and let him in too close. He became conniving, manipulative, a teacher’s pet with a vendetta against the system and so he took the teacher’s job. Worked his way up until he was eye to eye to those that made him. And then, he destroyed them, and oh, how Olympus has fallen. He left with his life, though he cannot say much for the others. They had taken it all from him, he had no memories of what was before them, no images of family, of what an actual life was. Just a name. His grandfather was long gone, not that he knew, not that he cared, but he took what was given to him, a bank account, frozen until he was eighteen, when he was supposed to return, about 110 million yen, what was left of what they had, a supposed consolidation for abandoning the child, his grandmother fine and comfortable and she came looking, more than once she came looking and each time he left, ran far away from her, he didn’t know her never knew her, not like she wanted. He had become something absent of emotions, absent of memories, he was just a surname, but a name he could not live up to. Thus, he became someone else, just as they wanted.

He wandered on his own a bit, finding solace in the underground, and a band of misfits just like him. But touring, guitar shredding and becoming a confidant didn’t scratch that itch they had created for him. The itch to draw blood, hear torturous screams and extract the information that he wanted. The woman he had met had humanized him, made him feel less of a robot, less of a monster, showed him that he could make genuine connections even if they felt idle or like autopilot. Though, those thoughts still persisted, so he sought out ways to cure his hunger, more like the chef that could cook up such a feast had found him, a tragic case, sucked into another tragedy.

INTERVIEW QUESTION (para sample): “Just run us through what happened that night”. - Officer

Akuyoshi spit on the ground and slumped back in his chair. The officers furrowed their brows, though fear was apparent of their faces. “We know who you are.” One of them spoke in English, the demon only erupted into a dark laugh, one that drained the color from the younger officers face. “Good.” His Russian accent was sharp, cutting through them like sharpened blades.

“If you want information, you wont get it from me.” He said tilting his head back, wet, sweat covered strands falling from his face. The ex agent had already began picking the lock on the cuffs behind him, brow ticking as they came unlocked. It was in a blink of an eye, blood splattered his face and the ceiling, the elder officer going to the ground with his hand grasping at his throat in panic, the one that was left only looked at him in horror, frozen in place and unable to run to safety, and Aku took the opportunity, taking both of his cheeks in his palms before twisting his wrist, the sound of the snap satisfying.

He disappeared in a cloud of dark smoke, before appearing before the camera that filmed the interview room, “Bozhe pomiluy svoyu dushu,” he said darkly, the word echoing off the walls like the demon’s father had began to ascend before he snatched it from the wall the last thing the overseers seeing was his large smile spreading towards his ears.

#vcaccepted #vccivilian #vchowlers

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