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#ysabella
anathemafiction · 5 months
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Do the ROs believe it’s better tho have loved and lost, or to have never loved at all?
I'll answer these in the event of Romanus' death.
To have loved and lost: Hadrian, Lance, Alain, The Pirate King
To have never loved at all: Rafael, Alessa, Neia, Vallen, Ysabella
This is what they believe, not necessarily what's better for them. Rafael and Ysabella would be so devasted by your loss that they'd curse the pain in despair, not realizing, then, that the agony of the moment is simply love left adrift.
Alessa, Neia, and Vallen would be changed by the loss — and not for the better. I honestly fear the kind of people they'd each become.
The others are more emotionally mature. Hadrian would be brought to his knees, but he'd treasure the memories as sacredly as he treasures his cross. Your love would have changed Alain and Lance enough that they would never want to go back — it would be a disservice to you. How can they regret you when you've made them so much better?
And the Pirate is used to loss. You would be a treasured scar he'd wear close to his heart, always hurting but, sometimes, singing too. He'd carry you with him to wherever the sea takes him, knowing that death is never far away. You're waiting in the limbo. The Pirate knows he'll soon join his peach: and you'll find each other in the next life.
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Lady Ysabella Theer
Based on the portrait of Bianca Maria Sforza, by Giovanni Ambrogio de Predis
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nandivina · 1 year
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Second try at drawing the twins
I like to imagine this is how they’re looking at us when we first arrive at the ball
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xunsincereemox · 6 months
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So Connected (on Wattpad) https://www.wattpad.com/story/292167297-so-connected?utm_source=web&utm_medium=tumblr&utm_content=share_myworks&wp_uname=xunsincereemox&wp_originator=ISAWQMwcqfxI1kTeiEFB33kG2Oq5F5F%2B3KBFTKUW8Fx%2BW1bfbEFjQFL%2FUn1%2BQMIqbqSru5RrNH63fXMNC8fpL86qCYvOKBQfPxTJeZYtdaCV2YBFOBp%2F7UrfzePc7%2BN%2B  "Our story started when we said Hello." - Timeless, Taylor Swift 
After their first meeting, Paris Olivier fell in love with Ysabella Joyce. However, he will never acknowledge this emotion because, during that time, he had a girlfriend for two years. But then, his girlfriend would betray him and confess that she only used him for his money and assets. 
By the time he moves on, he will meet Ysabella again, but this time, Ysabella is in a relationship with her childhood crush. Would their story have a chance?
 (WARNING: THE BOOK CONTAINS FOUL WORDS AND MATURE CONTENT. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. R16.) 
(DISCLAIMER: THE BOOK IS ONGOING AND NOT EDITED. THERE MIGHT BE GRAMMAR, PUNCTUATION, AND SPELLING ERRORS ALONG THE WAY.)
I uploaded the FIRST 9 CHAPTERS of my TAGALO-ENGLISH story. Please have a read! :))
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inge-universe · 1 year
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Judith Visser - Oversteken & Ysabella @writerwithwolfdogs #judithvisser #judithvissernl #oversteken #ysabella @boekerij @xanderuitgevers ............ Inhoud: Oversteken Stel je voor: je wordt wakker naast je geliefde, je draait je naar hem toe – en hij is dood. Dit overkomt Tender, de hoofdpersoon van Oversteken. Van het ene op het andere moment is haar verloofde verdwenen uit haar leven. Alleen in haar dromen kan Tender nog contact met hem maken, hem zien en horen. Daardoor vervreemdt  ze van de werkelijkheid, en haar leven verandert radicaal en onomkeerbaar. Oversteken is opnieuw een intense en beeldend geschreven thriller vol  psychologische spanning. Judith Visser bewees met Stuk dat zij een breed publiek  echt kan raken. Oversteken zal opnieuw iedereen verrassen. Ysabella Vanaf het moment dat Jill Valens nietsvermoedend de Rotterdamse bibliotheek binnenstapt, is niets meer zoals het was. Ze hoopt daar rust en inspiratie te vinden, en wil even weg uit de stress van haar veeleisende leven als bekend schrijfster. Maar in plaats daarvan heeft ze een onheilspellende ontmoeting en is ze getuige van een dramatisch ongeluk. Is dat allemaal toeval of heeft het een betekenis? Voor ze het weet is Jill het middelpunt van een zenuwslopende race tegen de klok waarin leven en dood op het spel staan… Met als bonus de eerste drie hoofdstukken van Judiths nieuwe thriller Zeemansbruid, die in oktober verschijnt! ............ #instabook #bookstagrammer #bookstagram #bookstagramnl #bookstagrammers #instaboek #boekstagram #boekenwurm #booktrovert #books #reading #dutchbookstagram #bookmail #boekenpost #lezenisleuk  #dutchbookstagrammers #dutchbookstagrammer #thriller #thrillers #spannendeboeken https://www.instagram.com/p/CpVWyGBrjFq/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=
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ysabellasweb · 2 years
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Thinking about how Ysabella basically raised herself and how her only real father figure - (no, not the giant spider who “adopted” her after he ate her friends alive) - is a random dude she plays the violin with occasionally. And how even he has no idea what kinda stuff she does because she doesn’t want to mess up that relationship, though she’d never admit it to herself.
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jesteraunt · 8 months
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my three tomb prospectors! Though only one is from the height of Byrgenwerth's expeditions, they all value their job/role greatly
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taggedgore · 9 months
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hahahahaha my brooke and ysabella tag will never be updated not because i outgrew this damn site but because brooke is dead! that's my best friend! it's been 2 years and i could scream with how much i miss the sound of her voice and her curls and her righteousness
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imprvdente · 2 years
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@pridefulambition​​ liked this post for a [text message] starter
[text: Bella] Did I leave my criminology book in your house yesterday? [text: Bella] I can’t find it anywhere, and I have a paper to finish
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impoffreemarket · 6 months
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"Tell me your name. So that I'll remember who it was that I've killed."
A new darling of younger Theers, Igor is a mysterious man from eastern reaches of the world, a foreigner in his own right to the customs and traditions of Tarragona. Cold and bitter north raised him to be a man not easily moved by violence with barbaric habits, sharp tongue and tendency to easily indulge in his violent urges. Yet the appearances can be deceiving - the eastern barbarian prays to the Lord, and his mind is as sharp as the tip of his spear.
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anathemafiction · 7 months
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These Mortal Pains — Part One
Light.
Warm sunshine glints past a clear window. Little specks of dust dance within its beam, and for a moment, you're mesmerized by them. Your eyes feel tired, and the effort to keep your eyelids open is only eased by the moistness at the corners. You can feel dry tears on your cheeks and your body...
You don't want to think about your body. Pain, you have found, can be avoided if it's ignored. For a little while, you want to ignore it.
Because you hear breathing and it's not your own — it's his. His darling, precious breaths. You turn your head on your fresh, plush pillow to find Hadrian slumped over your bed.
The small bench he dragged next to you is too short for his long legs, so they're tucked awkwardly beneath it, at an odd angle that must be uncomfortable. His broad shoulders slouch so he can rest his elbows on top of your linen and lay his head on his forearms.
His back moves up and down with each inhale and exhale.
His hair is in as much disarray as before but is clean now. His closed eyes have deep, sunken circles beneath, and his skin is paler than usual. He looks thinner than usual. His clothes are tossed as if put on in haste, and a large, purple bruise blooms from the side of his jaw up to his cheekbone. As Hadrian sleeps next to you, one of his hands loosely holding your gloved one, he's the perfect picture of exhaustion.
Your dry tears are replaced with fresher ones, and you swallow the sob that makes a knot in your throat. You don't want to wake him to misery, you want him to wake to love.
His skin is warm and rough, but his hand holds you gently. Even as pain shoots up your side, fast and swift like lightning, you raise an arm to sweep your fingers through his hair. Affection warms your chest as your nails drag along his scalp, and slowly, you feel him stir. Hadrian blinks, lips moving to soundless mumbles as you sweep a strand of brown hair from his temple.
And suddenly, green eyes are shining at you.
You look at each other...
And Hadrian bolts upright, nearly falling as his eyes widen beyond belief. "You're awake," he whispers as if sound could break you. Hadrian stares at you, his whole body frozen.
You try to smile, but what comes out is a grimace. "Barely," you rasp out, the words scratching the walls of your throat. You can still taste ashes.
Hadrian slowly rises to his feet. He starts breathing harder, and there's so much emotion on his face. His dear, precious face. "Hadrian," you're finally able to say. "Hadrian, you saved me. I—"
(...)
The door slides open, and a shadow slips inside. 
Your eyes are used to the gloom, but the quick way it moves is hard to track. It comes closer to your bedside, and now the pale moonlight shines on soft brown hair and fair, smooth skin dotted with as many freckles as the night sky. But this one is a constellation that you've often contemplated its beauty. As equally beautiful as the pair of blue eyes that flash down at you and make you thank the heavens you get to live to see another day.
Thank nameless, forgotten gods you get to see her. Alessa stares down at you with an expression carved from stone as shadows make a home of her face. You stare back into the freezing depths of those eyes.
“You have awakened.” Comes her low voice, as beautiful as it is feeble. So unlike her.
You try to reach for her, but your whole body is in agony. "I had to," you rasp from bleeding lips. "I had to see you."
Alessa drops to her knees, and cold fingers ghost over your cheek, tracing your jaw, coming to hold the back of your neck. "Darling one," she breathes by your lips before pressing hers softly against yours. "I thought you would not awake."
You close your eyes, pressing your forehead to hers. "How long has it been?"
"Too long," Alessa answers, and you snap your eyes open because she weeps.
(...)
Alain runs as if his soul has jumped through his mouth, and he's doing his best to catch up.
The brown horse thunders towards him, but the nobleman isn't worried about being trampled under the hooves. He only has eyes for you. You're slumped over the beast's neck like a sack of potatoes.
No. There's blood. There's a lot of blood. Your face is drained of all color, and he's been a terrible servant, but God, let you not be dead. Let you not be dead. Let you...
It's funny how panic works. His mind is stuck on a pleading loop, but his body works on its own volition. "Stop the horse!" He orders the guards, but they're behind, and they're useless, so Alain does it himself. He opens his arms wide and jumps in front of the frantic beast. "Calm down! Calm down."
The horse is getting closer and closer. Alain can only look at you.
A trickle of blood pours from your lips.
He has never had his heart broken, but he feels something breaking now. He feels his whole chest caving, and he's panicking, but his body refuses to listen. "Calm down."
His voice comes out as if there isn't a cord wrapped around his neck. It comes out calm, and authoritative, and Alain doesn't think horses understand human language, but the horse comes to a stop right in front of Alain.
With the halt in movement, you falter... and then start to slide to the side.
Alain jumps, faster than he's ever been, and catches you mid-air. "Uff," he grunts but holds you safe in his arms. He pulls you closer, one hand supporting your upper back, and you're so close now that the stench of blood makes his eyes sting.
No.
He sees the bolt jammed into your side. His knees buckle. His arms refuse to panic. "Little sparrow," he whispers, and his voice breaks now. He wants to cup your cheek, to shake you awake, but he can't let go of you. "Little sparrow, open your eyes. Open your eyes for me."
You don't.
"Please," Alain whispers. He has never begged before, but he does it now. "Please, open your eyes."
"My lord!" Alain snaps his head up when the three guards reach him. They have sweat covering their faces, and two of them look with wide, panicked eyes at you hanging from his arms. "My lord is..."
One of them walks forward, raising her fingers to press them to your pulsing point, but Alain turns violently away. "Stay back," he barks, his voice dark. He would have slapped her if he had a free hand. "Don't touch him/her."
You're alive. There's no need to confirm it — it's an insult to. You're alive.
Alain regains his composure. "Have a clean room prepared," he orders her, voice a stone of cold once more. The guard hesitates, then nods and takes up running.
Alain turns to the second guard. "Call the healer. Pull her from her bed if needed. If she's not in the room when I get there, I'll have you both beheaded."
The guard, a young man, jumps and sprints back to the castle.
He turns to the last guard, a seasoned man with a dark, bushy beard. "Take the horse to the stable. Make sure they take care of him."
"Will do, my lord," the guard says but doesn´t rush to obey. Instead, he looks Alain in the eyes. "And then?"
Alain starts to walk, hugging you close. "Then get a party and find who did this," he says over his shoulder. He cradles your head against his chest. You're so cold. "And bring me their heads."
The guard spits on the ground and grabs the horse's reins. "Will do."
Alain walks with you in his arms, praying to a God who has never listened. My wealth for their life. My title for a breath.
.
.
.
You awake to warmth.
(...)
You awake to a gentle trickle.
Water splashes on water, and then, a cooling touch dampens your forehead. Water now trickles down your eyes, past your cheeks, and falls in little droplets to your bare shoulders.
Your body feels heavy and broken, but your ears are blessed with the gentle sound of crystalline water, and the soothing timber of a light, beautiful voice.
"Things fall apart."
Your lips quirk, for while your eyes are still closed, you immediately recognize the voice. Ysabella sings in a whisper so low that it's almost a hum, but wherever you are, it's dead silent, so you hear it as if she shouts.
A linen sheet covers your body up to your waist, and when you shuffle to the side, you feel the bandages wrapped around your middle. You don't feel any pain, but your tongue is dry and numb, your thoughts come slow and dragged, and you know you must be under the effect of some kind of drug.
Not that it matters. Because Ysabella keeps humming. "But nothing breaks like a heart," she sings, the trickling water accompanying like a band, and then, a wet, cooling cloth comes to press gently against your forehead. Bella hums, and pads your neck with little, tender touches. "Nothing breaks like a heart," she repeats in a lower, weaker voice as she cleans the top of your shoulders.
It feels so good, and sleep lulls you into its peaceful embrace, but at the last sentence, you snap your eyes open. Bella's voice sounded as heartbroken as her song, and that cannot be.
Light is scarce and warm. The final moments of a deep red sunset paint the two large windows that face the West. A white marbled fireplace has orange embers burning, and the door is wide enough to let two people walk side by side. But it's closed, and no one else is in the room except you and Ysabella.
"This world can break you," she whispers, turning away from you. She sits beside your bed on a simple, backless stool with three legs and a padded surface. She doesn't wear one of her long, beautiful gowns, but chooses instead a plain cotton dress that stops at her midcalf and has a deep round neckline. Her jewels are gone, her hair falls naturally down her golden skin, and from her profile, you can see that her lips aren't painted but are of her natural brownish, red color.
She leans over a thin table set beside her where it is an azure water basin, a fresh batch of bandages, and a yellow bottle of some kind of liquid. "It cuts you deep and leaves a scar." At the word scar, your noblewoman's voice cracks. Your chest clenches when you hear a sniffle, but Ysabella’s graceful hands don't falter.
Gently moving as if she dances to a trained routine, Ysabella brings the light blue towel she's cleaning you with to the basin and soaks it anew. "Things fall apart," she says, turning it carefully over. You wonder if the water turns red.
You wonder if her tears mix within.
Ysabella turns to you, and you can finally see the face of the world's most beautiful woman. And it looks exhausted. "But nothing breaks—"
Ysabella's eyes catch yours.
“Ah.” A gasp and the towel falls from her hands.
You have so much you'd like to tell her. But, when you crack your lips open, all that comes out is a stupid joke. "Am I in heaven?"
At the sound of your voice, Ysabella starts shaking. "You—you're not supposed to be awake yet," she says, dragging her chair closer. She lifts a hand towards your face but stops mid-air, brown eyes searching every inch of your face. "The healer said you'd sleep for at least three days. If— if you were ever to wake again."
"Damn, then it's good that I did, no?" you rasp out. Talking proves hard, especially with your numb tongue, but you want to soothe her.
Bella blinks, and tears fall down her cheeks. "You're not supposed to yet."
She's staring at you, her eyes glazed. Your smile dies when you realize she's in shock.
(...)
The entire pieces are available on Patreon!
Fire — Hadrian & Alessa
Wind — Alain & Ysabella
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blighted-elf · 6 months
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New video and blog post on the narrative and RPG elements of Bloodlines 2. Some key takeaways:
- The game itself is set around Christmas time 2024 in Seattle. - The protagonist is an elder named Phyre. You can still change your clan/gender, but the character is set. No clarification on a full character creator, or if there are just set gender/clan presets like in Bloodlines 1. - The player is fully voiced. - Fabien is a thinblood character that only Phyre can hear (sounds a bit like a V and Johnny Silverhand situation). He's described as an anchor and a compass to the character. He also helps Phyre with technology and the new world. - Romance is hinted at. - Phyre awoke from torpor and a fellow kindred named Ysabella stole some of their power via a strange mark on their hand. - Clothing/fashion choice affects how NPCs will react to the character. You can attempt to alter the resonance of your feeding victims, presumably by scaring them, etc. - You were known as the slayer in Cairo previously and have quite a bit of infamy. There are NPCs in Seattle that will recognize you. You have some say in your backstory. - Multiple endings depending on your decisions.
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Hey everyone! I'm Ysabella Elise Trevor and this is a blog for you all to ask these six evil beans anything.
Zach: You mean we have to talk to them?!
Donita: Darling, I could be thinking of new fashion trends.
Dabio: Ooh! Blog.
Gourmand: You're tellin' me that I have to be here when I could be cookin'?
Paisley: This is a huge waste of my time.
Rex: HI, INTERNET!
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inge-universe · 1 year
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Judith Visser - Ysabella @writerwithwolfdogs #judithvisser #ysabella Wie kent deze auteur en haar boeken? .......... Inhoud: Vanaf het moment dat Jill Valens nietsvermoedend de Rotterdamse bibliotheek binnenstapt, is niets meer zoals het was. Ze hoopt daar rust en inspiratie te vinden, en wil even weg uit de stress van haar veeleisende leven als bekend schrijfster. Maar in plaats daarvan heeft ze een onheilspellende ontmoeting en is ze getuige van een dramatisch ongeluk. Is dat allemaal toeval of heeft het een betekenis? Voor ze het weet is Jill het middelpunt van een zenuwslopende race tegen de klok waarin leven en dood op het spel staan… Met als bonus de eerste drie hoofdstukken van Judiths nieuwe thriller Zeemansbruid, die in oktober verschijnt! .......... #bookstagram #bookstagramnl #bookstagrammer #bookstagrammers #dutchbookstagram #dutchbookstagrammer #dutchbookstagrammers #instabook #dutchbook #books #tweedehandsboek #2ehands #tweedehands #ntl #ntlllijst #lezenisleuk #lezenisleuk📚 #boeken #2ehandsboeken #tbr #tbrpilekeepsgrowing  #jekannooitteveelboekenhebben #boekenlezen #tbrpile #nogtelezenlijst #nogtelezen #boekenlezenisleuk #novelle https://www.instagram.com/p/ClKP8ZTLzoO/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=
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ysabellasweb · 2 years
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Ysabella has this weird mixture of religious trauma and also parental trauma? She considers the Mother of Webs (the Eldritch Fear God™) to be her mother but she also worships her. She also acknowledges that her “mother” has no love for her beyond her usefulness, and she says she doesn’t mind. 
Even as the writer, I have difficulty finding out if that’s true, because all that comes to mind when I try to decide how to portray that relationship is Ysabella’s satisfaction. She believes people only really care about what you can give them, but that that exchange can be positive. So she appreciates that her “mother” doesn’t lie about her own feelings towards Ysabella.
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