#zahara is a little shit

[ezra-iolite]

Swiftwire: Updated Appearance

..... She really needed a fresh new look, due to all the shit she's gone through, and just generally smooth out the rough edges of her lore, which I'll do as part of a full bio later, since it's gonna be a long post.... So I'll just do her main details here for the sake of putting only what's important here. XD But also JUST LOOK AT HER!!! 😭 SHE'S SO BEAUTIFUL!!

This was done by the amazingly talented and legendary Torrent/torrentarts on Tik Tok!! So if you ever see this, THANK YOU AGAIN, HONEY!! >w<

(Also a version of her without her kanga/scarf, her flags or her earring~)

Swiftwire Asya Zahara Mutheru of the Maasai Tribe

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ * ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Her story is still generally the same, but just added a few tweaks to make her blend in better with a more canon aligned world (i.e; Earthspark and a little bit of IDW/Lost Light), but I'll reveal it at a later time, once it's fully fleshed out.

~*~

In short.... Swift is still a former human (originally named Asya Mutheru) that was turned into a Cybertronian, doing so by having her body digested by the Energon within a Cybertronian protoform's hollow spark, burning away her corpse to pluck her soul out and turn it into the spark that brought Swiftwire to life, all thanks to her birth father, Jeremy Omari.

~*~

Personality wise, Swift is still as maternal, goofy, vain but kind, and as flirtatious as ever, and is generally the "Mom Friend with gremlin energy" within any group she finds herself a part of.

~*~

Deep inside her psyche, however.... the monster that Swift's body was supposed to become is still alive.... He's just taking the backseat instead of dominating and controlling the body fully like Swift is now. This is purely because Asya was supposed to die and pass on when her human body became the cadaver powering her spark... But instead, her soul took over and changed the Cybertronian husk into her new body, one that became female presenting instead of male.

~*~

That monster is Talos, a Beastformer designed by Jeremy to take on the appearance of a blue Minotaur Spartan Hoplite soldier in the form of a manmade Transformer.

~*~

Talos's presence is still inside Swift, and only truly comes out when she is angry and starts to "see red". That saying, in her case, is literal, as her eyes change and her jaw elongates to show who is slowly taking over her (as seen in the image above Swift~).

This change is known as 10% Corruption Mode, where Talos takes over only a small part of her and dominates only her face and her instincts. The more of her body that changes, the more the "corruption" reaches 100%. When it reaches that mark, Swift will no longer be in the driver seat of her own body and mind, and both will then be fully under Talos's control.

~*~

Talos and Swift are like Jekyll and Hyde, but instead of them simply sharing a mind, Swift and Talos are both Transformers with their own root and alt-modes, existing in the same body. Talos has his main form (the Spartan Hoplite) and his Beast alt mode (the Minotaur), while Swift has her main form/root mode and her jet alt mode. So Swift isn't really a Triple or a Quadruple-Changer.... Talos exists within her with his own root mode body that takes over Swift's, and her jet form becomes the Minotaur form he transforms into.

~*~

When Talos takes over Swift's body, her frame colour changes from glittery orange to a dark midnight blue, starting from the head and bleeding down her body. It is a painful process each time, as it feels like she is being ripped apart from the inside out, especially when she tries to keep Talos locked inside, but before this happens, the first two things that change are her eyes and her jaw, the 10% Corruption stage....

~*~

Her eyes are always the first to change before the colour of her frame switches. Usually, they are blue with black sclera, and white slit pupils that were once round, before Talos first emerged and forced her to change. They remain slit to this day as a remnant of his presence within her, and so when he emerges.... They turn from white to red. The blue of her irises then vanish into the sea of black of her sclera, making her pupils the only thing that stand out in her eyes, and show that Talos has now taken over her mind.

~*~

The next to change is her face.... Her cheeks bear a line across them that is another permanent remnant of Talos's influence, and so that line opens and forcibly stretches and exposes the metal muscles and sinew that connects her jaw to her skull, but it doesn't damage her jaw or skin in any way. Her cheeks heal every time she returns to normal.

~*~

If the changes progress any further from here and reaches above 40% Corruption, then Swift will be locked inside herself and Talos will fully front without any further resistance, and assume full control over the body. If Swift does manage to resist and stop Talos before reaching 40%, then she can regain control and revert back to her own body.

~*~

If not..... Then her body will fully turn blue, her Seeker form becomes masculine and beefier, and Talos will then stand in his full, armored, Spartan Hoplite form with split-hoof bipedal legs, Swift's dreadlocks now forming the iconic mohawk of his helmet (also turned black and blue in hue) and her wings flat and fused together to act like a cape, with Talos's split-mouthed face hidden in his helmet, as the body now presents itself as his.

~*~

As his Minotaur Beast alt-mode..... The wings and dreadlocks are packed away, and his upper body becomes that of a bull with long, curved horns pointed forwards, a thick silver ring in his snout, and his maw still filled with fangs and his arms bearing Swift's claws... Which become blacker and travel further up her arms the more she allows Talos to take over.

The only way to bring Swift back is to knock Talos unconscious.

~*~

It should also be noted that Swift's height is 17 feet... Talos's main/Spartan form is 25 feet tall, while his Minotaur form is roughly 22 feet. (All using Earthspark heights for comparison)

Also..... This is his voice claim.... Everything he says is canon to what Talos is like and how he speaks to Swift in their shared headspace~

#ezra iolite og work #torrentarts #Swiftwire #Talos the Spartan

[themarcspector-a]

baybees. brief info under readmore. 

Tagged by: @blissfulalchemist (thank you!🥰) for this picrew. 

tagging: @gothamrains / @grant-steven / @fayelistic / @thelittlestspider / @fabledmoon / @stevienicksrps / @outfromthesea / @blightshored / @lesbiannoir / @pretendsweetly and anyone who wants to do it.

claudiaxunknown - marta blake (biological: she isn’t violent, she’s just like made to be a weapon due to grandma being a little shit) & ford ellison blake (adopted: lmfao ford is my boy. he was essentially some kid who hung around marta a lot, but cloud started using him to get information out of people. and eventually, she met his mom, wanted to fight her, and yeah, his mom was like “take this terror of a child, i do not want him” and cloud was like “this child a gift. i will take care of him.” skfhjsdfsf like it’s in his bio) // opheliaxbruce - natalina w.ayne (biological: gets into trouble, likes a good puzzle. her parents aren’t together because her mom says bruce deserves a swirly in a middle school bathroom. but oh well.) // laylaxjohn - zelena alvarez (adopted: just some kid that had sucky parents that would follow lala around the city. so she basically raised the kid without adopting them. but they’re her kid if anyone asks LOL.) // fordxlara - richard ellison (biological: thinks his mom is so so cool and ford is like “yeah your mom is amazing”) // amadaxlayla - zahara el-fao[u]ly (biological, artificial insemination. me thinks layla carried her because ama is horrified of childbirth. okay but this is the most loved baybee ever because ama is like full of love and i feel like layla would be a great mom. but they both travel a lot so the bab gets to see things all the time.)

#tag games #ngl i like using these to just ramble lmfaoooo #and i've had these kids in my head or they're in use already haha #also i could easily say that marta is cloud's deceased husband alexanders but it's so funny #to have like a mama mia situation where cloud just does not know who the father of her kid is #so she's just gonna mumble in spanish or french sdjkfdsf #and like alex when they're together does help her raise marta up until she's taken #but the dad......idk idk idk in any of her stuff. whether it's her wip verse of her m*rvel verse or her dc verse noooo one knows. #also i think bruce and ophelia are a funny couple and iconic together because they be solving puzzles and acting like #the goddamn girl the drag0n tatt00 but like....realistically i do not see them working out in the long run LOL #layla and john are like.....would have some teenager trying to follow them and john would be a breath away from a heart attack since #lol that jl dark movie and stuff in his past #then ford and lara just live in my head rent free.....i don't like see lara having kids until waaaaaaay later tho #and ford is like...busy too #finally ama and layla just chill in my head rent free because i just thought ama would go bananas over that woman LOL #fuck i put rent free twice but yeah #c: claudia #c: claudia rosano #c: claudia blake #me: ophelia x bruce #me: layla x john #me: ford x lara #i do not have anything tagged for them! WHAT?! #me: amada x layla #i do not have anything tagged for them AND I KNOW IT LOL #but that's cause i always am like........if i play with this thought it will turn into a monster #and now i'm like.....yeah #if anyone of you read this you deserve a cookie cause i had a fuck ton of caffeine

[cassfries]

when damian meets a new girl at his school who also speaks arabic, they do not immediately become friends, to the surprise of jon. instead, they quarrel until damian said something overly offensive and made her properly upset. after he apologized, they became an unstoppable trio.

#zahara rahal (my oc) #damian wayne #jonathan kent #jon kent #zahara is a little shit #it’s okay tho #the boys love her

[hotbunking-vacheads]

∇ this and whatever pairing you choose 🐸

I choose Zahara/Jareth because fuck it, I love this scrappy little ship.

In my AU-land, they keep seeing each other over the years, barely communicating unless it's for setting up a... shall we call it date? I guess. They're sort of a distant but constant presence in each other's life, and neither can fully make sense of what their bond is, as they remain polar opposites in their later years.

Zahara keeps working as a doctor, making the rounds in NGOs and practices that don't ask too many questions and don't rat people with something to hide out to the ISB; by the time the Empire falls, she's just too used to semi-nomadic life and work to stop, although it's nice to be able to use her real name again and not have to rely on forged ID papers. Eventually she becomes head physician and a local director in a major healthcare charity, making herself something of a renown by a few vigorously-worded hearings at the Republic Senate on the many unaddressed shortcomings of the galactic public healthcare services.

Jareth... well, he stays where he is in Imperial Corrections Service, and then stays on when it's rebranded as New Republic Corrections Service. Paycheck and medical insurance are what they are, and he doesn't give a shit about political change at the top of the government: both the Empire and the Republic, old and new, will always need prisons and prison guards. Although he doesn't particularly care for a career, he's appointed warden of his own jailhouse by sheer seniority; he often fantasizes about one of his subordinates doing him what he did to Warden Kloth, back on the Purge many years ago. Just proof that he's becoming a maudlin wimp with age.

For the record, Zahara unabashedly thinks that the older he gets, the better-looking he gets; his best is when he hits his fifties. He's not sure whether that should make him feel self-conscious or pleased.

#replies #zahara cody #jareth sartoris #zahartoris

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

A Family of Five- Part 6: Ready

Calum and Harlowe’s marriage hasn’t always been easy, but it has always been filled with love. This is a collaborative experience with In Sorrow and In Joy. Dad!Calum. Black OC.

CW: Over the course of this series, there are mentions of pregnancy, therapy, and postpartum depression. There is also 18+ Content (Smut)

Enjoy my masterlist | Series Masterlist

Support me on kofi

No one has my permission to repost my work of fiction. This includes translations as well. 

_____________________________________________

Luke finishes the last of the dishes. Noor’s at the bar, reading over her lines before the bus. Zahara dangles the keys to her car on her finger, waiting for Zeek to grab the charger for his tablet from his room. The house is quiet. He finds himself wondering how long that it will last. The question is answered a minute later when a shout rings out, “Babe!”

“There goes the silence,” he chuckles, wiping hands on the dish rag. “Yeah?” he calls out, taking the stairs two at a time to the bedroom. 

You turn around, dressed in black jeans and your pajama shirt. “Where’s that heart button up shirt?”

“That’s actually Calum’s shirt,” he grins leaning up against the frame of the door. 

A groan falls over your lips. Out of habit, you reach up and fix the bun of your curly hair and mutter to yourself. Of course, your favorite shirt to steal wasn’t actually Luke’s. He probably took it from Calum’s case on their last tour, last year, and only just recently realized that it didn’t belong in your closet. You could go without the shirt. But it annoys the crap out of you, that you couldn’t finish the outfit that you had been planning for days now for the first day back to school. 

“Now that I think about it. That’s definitely his t-shirt too. Forgot to give it back,” Luke states. 

You look down at the gray t-shirt covering your body. “So, you’re telling me, Harlowe’s gonna call asking for this shirt eventually.”

He shrugs. “Only if she knows the shirt is gone.”

You roll your eyes, peeling off the shirt and stealing inside the blue button up of Luke’s. “Honesty, one of these days y’all need to go through your closets and figure this shit out.” You’ll call Harlowe. She’ll know where that heart button up is. And more importantly, she’ll be willing to trade. 

“You and Harlowe end up stealing stuff from us!” he laughs. “It’s not all our fault.”

“Shush, I said that you two need to figure out what belongs to who and then she and I can figure out what’s up for trading and what has to stay. You didn’t let me finish.” Tossing the shirt at Luke, you laugh a little at his flail, startled by the action. “Start a load of laundry please. Use the kid’s detergent. Harlowe’s skin is sensitive.”

“For one shirt?” he jokes, his high pitched shout cracking a little on the the word ‘one’. “I’ll at least wash some of the kids stuff too.”

“That’s the idea!” you shout to his retreating figure. With the last of the shirt buttoned, you pick up your phone. As you open to your recent messages, Harlowe’s name is right at the top. 

The phone rings twice before you can hear her shouting in the background. “Esha, it doesn’t even take me this long to put a face on in the morning, c’mon. You’re beautiful and I will fight anyone that says otherwise.”

Calum’s laughter filters in from the background before his voice fills the line. “You’ve reached Harlowe’s phone. She’s currently helping Esha figure out mascara. Can I take a message?”

“She’s really letting Esha wear makeup to school, huh?” you ask. The debate on whether Esha could wear makeup to school was definitely a long one. You remembered just a couple months ago when it first started, during the summer. Harlowe and Calum feared she’d go off the deep in, but didn’t want her to feel like she couldn’t explore in the world of make up or self expression. You just had no idea that they had agreed on anything yet. Granted, you all kept up well, some things inevitably would fall through the cracks. Between getting syllabi together and raising kids, some news unfortunately fell to the waste side. 

“It was a long battle. We agreed to mascara and lipstick. Nude lipstick though. Specifically a nude lipstick.”

You nod. “Sounds like a smart choice.” 

More laughter floats in from the background. “Keep looking up, you’re not going to poke yourself I promise,” Harlowe chuckles.

“But I could!” Esha retorts. “This is scary.”

“So,” Calum says, “I know you called for a reason.”

“I was trying to see if a certain item of clothing could be up for trades. It appears that I, really Luke, but by extension me as well, have a certain t-shirt that belongs to you. And a certain heart button up shirt was not Luke’s, which is disheartening.”

“The gray one with Conway studios on it?”

“That’s the one.”

“She was looking for that last night. Hold on second.” There’s muffled talking in the background. “So, while Harlowe’s sad about losing the heart button up, she’s willing to trade.”

“It’s your shirt, technically.”

Calum laughs. “She has taken my closet. Nothing is mine anymore except my shoes. If she could wear those, she’d probably take them too. Like right now, she’s in my green plaid pants. It’s a great outfit, but I was the one that pulled the pants down this morning.”

“You’re going to the studio! You know you would’ve opted for jeans anyway,” Harlowe bellows.

“I would’ve at least like the option, baby. At least give me the option.” There’s a shuffling sound and Harlowe finally speaks.

“Ignore him, girl. He’s just pissy this morning.”

“So tonight we’ll trade shirts. I had this whole first day look planned, but of course, the shirt I wanted, wasn’t Luke’s shirt.

“Okay, normal table. I’ll see you then.”

__

Even before opening the door, you know what the place smells like, sounds like. You and Harlowe have been coming here every Wednesday before the twins were born. It’s ritual to walk in, hearing the clack of pool balls on the smooth red velvet and a white buzz of voices. It’s ritual to smell beer, but also the famous cheese fries cooking in the back. The place is old, but it somehow feels right. No, this wasn’t always your cup of tea. But Harlowe fell in love with the place, her second collection of poetry was birthed here. So on Wednesdays, this is where you two sat, chatting about the week previous, the week ahead. Talking about husbands, and kids. Talking about students and universities. You two worked at different schools. You do this for cheese fries, the laughs, the gossip. But more importantly, you do this for her, because she needed something to look forward to after the post partum depression from Esha. 

Inside, you spot her afro at the bar, “the normal table.” “If that’s a virgin rum and ginger ale, today was fine. But it’s a virgin Caribbean Rum Punch, someone’s trying to fuck themselves up,” you laugh, sliding into the bar stool next to Harlowe. 

She laughs, slinging an arm across your shoulders, resting her head for a moment onto your shoulder. “Yo got me. Just ginger ale. How were your classes?” She straightens, pulling her arm away. 

“There’s a freshman in my 300 level class. The fear was real in there eyes, looking at the syllabus.”

“How did they get into that class?”

You shrug. “No one asked for an override into class. My assumption is that they thought they were hot shit and signed up.”

“Didn’t even check RateMyProfessor, I bet,” Harlowe grins, flagging down a bartender.

The man walks over with an easy grin, closing his eyes and taking a deep breathe. “Let me guess.You’re going to order a plate of cheese fries. Ranch dipping on the side.”

“It’s like we’re regulars or something,” Harlow laughs. 

“Or something,” he chuckles, then turns to put the order in. 

“Well not all of us teach poetry and fiction. Some of us have to have reading lists a mile long,” you counter. 

Her laugh fills the room practically. “You make the syllabus. It does not have to be a mile long. You clearly just like suffering and taking your students down with you.”

Feigning shock, you gasps, turning around. “I don’t need this kind of negativity in my life.”

She chuckles, watching you. “Go ahead then. Run from the truth. But who’s the one that complains everything you have to reread those sections--you.”

“I cannot believe you’d read me like that in this here fine establishment.” This causes both of you to laugh, Harlowe falling into you a little, her laughter bouncing around in your eardrum. “How were your classes?”

With a smile resting on her face, she leans onto her elbows, toying at the glass. “Good. One girl came up to me after class and said she had signed up specifically for my section of poetry workshop because I was the only Black professor. Like I know this isn’t Kansas, to use a really dated expression, anymore. Like I know this isn’t the States, but it still means a lot be there for someone that needs it.”

“When’s your Fiction workshop?”

“Tomorrow. I’m teaching that in the morning and then the second section of intro to creative writing in the afternoon.”

“Must be nice,” you tease. 

Harlowe barks a laugh. “I’m not the one that spent years getting their Ph.D. in History, only to bitch about being the exact thing they wanted to be. So yeah, it is nice to enjoy my job.” Both woman laugh and the steaming bucket of fries is placed between them. Two glasses of water also thuds against the worn wooden counter. 

“How are my babies though?” There’s something in the way she asks that. You watch her face as she rummages into the depths of her bag. You catch nothing on her face. She pulls out the black button up and hands it over to you. You wipe your hands on a napkin and find the soft gray cotton in your backpack. You guys trade shirts.

“My babies are good.”

Harlowe huffs, biting hard into the fried potato. “Oh hush, I’m their aunt. They are effectively my children too.”

“What do you know that I don’t know?”

Harlowe shakes her head, reaching for her drink. “If I tell you, I break code.”

“It’s irksome that you know things before me,” you sigh. But you respect it. Your kids and Harlowe have a code. Though you desperately wish you weren’t always the last one to know about things, you understood. Sometimes the kids wanted to handle stuff by themselves, they didn’t want to always come to you or Luke. They maybe felt embarrassed having to go to their parents about everything. 

“They know they can talk to you, girl. They know.”

“I’m just the last to know. I feel so left out.”

“If you think Te Koha, Esha or even Nikau even tell me everything, you’re wrong.” Harlowe downs the her glass. “Children will not tell parents everything. Did you tell your mom everything?”

“Hell no.”

“Exactly my point.”

The first plate of fries is just about empty. Harlowe’s ordered a second drink when a presence slides up to the left of you. The cologne is familiar. As you giggle at Harlowe’s story about the disaster at the printer today before her class, you feel Luke’s hand resting gently on your lower back. You wondered when they would come up. When you walked in, you made a beeline for Harlow at the bar. Luke went to the table Calum had on the floor somewhere. You guys always do this. Split up, just for a little bit to have a little time away from each other. To talk all the junk you couldn’t do when your spouse was right there. It was always nice to have these moments away, to yourself, to be quiet and listen to Harlowe dramatically retell her adventures of the day or week. 

Her story finishes, an exasperated sigh falling over her lips before he speaks. “Can I get a pretty girl like you a drink?”

With an eye roll, you gently press into his chest for a quick hug. “Buy us another round of fries, and then we’ll talk.”

He laughs, palm brushing up and down your satin covered back. “Sounds reasonable.” 

“Ranch on the side for my friend here,” you add on, gently tapping his chest. 

“Please,” Harlowe adds, batting her eyelashes. 

“I’m right here,” Calum laughs, settling down next to her. 

“Are you buying me french fries?” she shoots back, resting her head into his chest. 

His arm wraps around her, almost protectively. “I’m the one you go home with.”

She reaches up, tapping the end of his nose with her finger. They’ve always been way more affectionate. You pretend to gag, before burying your face into your glass of water. She just buries herself deeper into him before raising her middle finger to you. “That’s rude!” Luke interjects, voice turning up into a laugh. 

As the second and third, due to Calum’s ordering, basket of fries comes out. It feels like old times, like being twenty three again during the summer before your second year for your Master’s program. When you forced Harlowe to get up on that dinky stage and read her poems. When Calum and Luke approached the two of you at the end of the night. It feels like you’ve got nothing but time, nothing by belly laughs and Harlowe and Calum’s antic, the lovingly nagging, the teases, you and Luke’s quiet moments, whispers. It’s nothing but being twenty three again. 

Until a phone chimes. The time of youth is over. You finish off the last few fries, cleaning off your fingers. Luke’s hand slides into yours. It’s Harlowe’s phone and she sighs. “Gotta get back to relieve Te Koha of babysitting duties,” she mutters. 

Calum leans in close to her, “Can I come home with you?” He’s only a few beers in this evening. Nowhere near as far as he can go.

“Hmm,” Harlowe chuckles, nails dragging under his chin, “Depends on how well you handle three kid.”

“Some might say I’m an expert,” he laughs. 

“An expert in making them,” Luke jokes, with a whistle. 

“That’s all you,” Calum teases. “Some of us made the choice a lot time ago to shoot blanks.”

“We are not having this discussion right here,” you interject. 

Harlowe pushes on Calum’s shoulder, to get him walking towards the door. She digs into his jacket pocket, retrieving the kids. “I’ll talk to you probably in an hour,” she laughs. “Good luck, getting your drunk giant home.”

“Do not remind me,” you call before adding, “Love you.”

She shouts over her shoulder. “Love you too. I covered half the bill.”

“I covered half,” Calum corrects loudly. 

“Will you be quiet and walk you drunk piece of man. Let’s go. Kids. Kids. We gotta get to our kids.”

You drive the two of you back. Luke hums quietly along to the radio for a while. His leg bounce. You watch him at a red light. “What’s up?” you ask, pressing your palm into his denim-cladded thigh. 

“Do you know what’s up with Ra?”

You had noticed she was way more quiet than usual. This is whatever Harlowe knew but you did. Luke continues, his voice panicked. “I tried asking her what was up, but she wouldn’t budge. I’m not sure if you know.”

“I don’t know either.”

His sigh is heavy. You can imagine his fingers carding through his hair as the stress settles onto his forehead. “Is it college stress? Boy trouble? If it’s boy trouble, I’m kicking someone’s ass,” he murmurs. 

“Call Harlowe too.”

Luke chuckles, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. “Yeah, I can’t forget her. What do you think it is?”

You don’t even want to try and think about that, what darkness is potentially overcoming your baby girl. Your grip on the steering wheel tightens. You’d go through hell and back for your kids. Sure you weren’t always the most affectionate person, but you’d be damned if your kids were going through some shit and didn’t at least know you were in their corner for them. The rest of the drive you and Luke try not to envision all the terrible scenarios. Had someone hurt her? Touched her the wrong way? Was she failing a class? Did something happen to a friend? Did she think that you and Luke weren’t there for her anymore?

With the car parked in the driveway, you two climb out of the car and share a concerned glance before walking inside. Ra’s chilling on the couch, Noor passed out in her lap, the TV’s on. It’s not barely nine. “You’re free of being pretend mom,” Luke says softly. 

Ra looks up with a small smile. “How were drinks?”

“Good. Anything happen here?” you asks.

“If it had, trust I would’ve called. After you guys left after dinner, we all finished up some homework. Or rather they finished up, and then Zeek showered and start drawing. Noor and I watched some TV. She had those physical fitness test today, so she’s pretty exhausted I guess.”

Luke nod, kissing both their foreheads. “We’ve got her. Finish up that work, yeah?”

Ra nods. “How many pints, Dad?” she laughs. 

He shakes his head. “Hush. Only a few more months and then I’ll take you out.”

“Oh, God, please spare me that embarrassment.”

“Okay, so Auntie Harlowe can take you out on my dime, how about that?”

She grins. “Now you’re talking.”

Luke pulls her in for one last hug, kissing her hair. “Go finish your work, missy.”

As Ra ascends the stairs, you wait until she reaches the first landing before stopping her, a gentle hand on her back. “Hey,” you start, looking into her eyes. The twinkle is gone. She looks tired. “You know I’m here right, for you. Both your dad and I are. You can tell us anything.”

She nods, lips pursing close. “I know. Thanks, Mum. Got a paper to finish though.” She lifts her thumb over her shoulder to the stairs, to her room, to her escape. You nod. She turns and takes them two at a time. She’s not ready. You can’t force her. 

It’s another two weeks. Zahra walks in through the door behind Noor and Zeek, closing the door behind her. “Hey guys,” you call out, tending over the pot of pasta. 

Zeek kisses your cheek and Noor buries herself in a giant hug. Ra doesn’t round the corner. You peek around and see her leaning against the glass, hands covering her face. Her shoulders shake once, twice. She’s crying. Before you can set yourself in motion towards her, she throws herself into you, tears staining her cheek, streaking her make-up. “Fuck,” she whimpers, shaking against you. 

Your heart thunders in your chest. “Hey, hey, hey, it’s okay.” Part of you is frozen. What the hell is happening? But the other part is ready to fix whatever it is. Whatever is heavy in her soul. “Talk--talk to me, baby. I’m right here,” you attempt to soothe. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I know,” she hiccups. “I know emotions are totally not our thing. But god, I’m so tired of holding this in anymore.”

The two of you stand there, you rubbing at her back and she sobs into your skin, her tears feeling like fire. What else could you have done to get her to open up sooner? What else could you have said? “You’re ready now,” you whisper. “It’s okay.”

It takes a few minutes for Zahra to collect herself. Her cheeks are streak a little. But she takes a deep breathe. “Did my mascara run?”

You shake your head, a smile cracking through the fear. “No. Told you that shit would hold.”

She laughs. The two of you head into the kitchen, you hand her some tissues. She’s much taller than you, taking her height from Luke. You have to look up at her a little. Rubbing her arms, you find yourself at lost for words. Wait until she’s ready, you think to yourself. Wait until she’s ready. Zeek hands her a glass of water. “Your face didn’t melt too bad.”

“Thanks,” Ra mutters, taking a sip. “And you’re still a pain in my butt.”

“I’m the best pain,” he smiles, hugging her. 

“Can I talk to you and Dad, when he gets here?” Ra says quietly behind her glass. 

You nod. “Of course.”

Luke arrives home about an hour later. Just as dinner is finished. He immediately notes the pink to Zahra’s face and flashes you a look. You respond with a gesture of your hand, telling him to wait, to not jump the gun. But Zahra knows when her hug is a few seconds longer than usual. Dinner goes by nicely, though Zeek does make one comment, “So we’re not going to discuss the emotional breakdown or?”

“Shove your mouth with pasta or there’s gonna be another breakdown and not from me,” Ra smiles. 

Zeek huffs, “No need to take my head off, okay?”

Noor reaches over, holding Ra’s hand, while shoveling more food onto her fork. “Some of us know our manners,” she quips. 

Luke and you try to swallow the snickers. Your children did learn from the best. Zeek and Noor get excused from the table. You know the kitchen’s a mess but that can wait. Zahra looks up from her empty plate. “So, like, what if I said I wasn’t sure I was straight?” she asks all in one breathe. 

You blink for a second, all the air rushing out of your lungs, before you smile. “I would say I’m very happy you told me.”

She looks to Luke. He takes her hand between his palms. “I would say that I love you no matter what. Straight or not, you’re still my daughter and I love you dearly. And it’s mighty brave of you to admit that.”

Zahra blinks rapidly, eyes welling up again. “It’s--” her voice is thick, she takes a moment. “It’s strange. To always have known something was different with me. Not just skin color or religion. But like something different. I don’t have a label for it. And I tried to push it down, ya know? Not think about it amongst all the college application deadlines, and dances, and school work mixed in with my job. I just….it’s been too long for me not to say something.”

You hand her a napkin. She dabs under her eyes. “You don’t need a label, sweetie. You don’t have to be afraid of us. We will always love you.”

“Always?” she questions. 

“Of course,” you and Luke chorus. 

“So, on top of that, I also don’t think artsy is my thing, Dad. I like the idea of Med school.”

Luke grins, placing one hand over his heart, faking a groan of pain. “I still got two more shoots at one of my kids turning to the arts.”

Zahra laughs looking over to you. “Every Brown parent’s dream, isn’t it?”

You nod, laughter bursting out of you. “Maybe just a little bit. I don’t care what you do, just as long as you love it, sweetheart.”

“That’s really a one two punch,” Luke jokes, later as the three of you clean the kitchen. “Really breaking your old man’s heart.”

You slap his bicep. “Now’s not the time.”

Zahra hugs him though from behind, cheek squished by his back. “I figured if you guys could handle me being a giant question mark in the sexuality department then maybe changing from arts to sciences would be easier to swallow.”

Luke turns in her embrace, wrapping her up tightly. “Yeah, a good way to deliver the news.” You let your cheeks lift, watching Zahra happily rests in her father’s arms for a beat or two longer before going back to putting the dishes up. It’s no longer heaviness in her shoulders, she no longer drags. That makes you happy.

Not even two hours later though, there’s a knock at the door. Luke answers it, his laughter erupting from him. You watch as Harlowe comes barreling down the entryway, a rainbow flag in her hands. She wraps Ra up in as she hugs her, rocking them both side to side. “Welcome to the club!” Harlowe laughs. 

Calum, Te Koha, Esha and Nikau follow in slowly behind her. If you had to equate the two of you to weather, Harlowe is a hurricane and your just the run of the mill thunderstorms. But you wouldn’t have her any other way. Esha walks over, prying her mother away from her life long friend. “So, we’re going to pride together or what?” Esha jokes, giving Zahra a hug. Esha has been out as pan for a year now. Calum and Harlowe took her to a few pride events since then. 

Ra laughs, “Yeah, yeah I guess we can.”

Te Koha steps dish out a hug too. “That’s very brave and you. I’m proud,” he says quietly. Zahra and him are in the same boat, not straight, not gay, just questions, just queer. Te Koha has not said anything. She hopes this pushes him. You watch their silent conversation before Nikau hugs her too and it ends. 

“Momma brought you cake,” Nik informs to Ra. 

She laughs. “Of course, you did Auntie Harlowe. Only you.”

“I’ve been quiet for weeks! Weeks, I told you i would not say anything until you came out. But I hope you’re ready because now, I’m not holding back!” Harlowe laughs, walking into the kitchen. That’s when it comes evident that her rainbow clips are holding back her two-strand twists from her face. You laugh at the detail, but happily take the slice of cake she hands you. 

“Thank you,” you say to Harlowe as the kids chat in the background. Ra’s still wearing the flag. “Thank you for being there for her.”

“It’s what I’m here for. I do not take the title aunt loosely.”

“Clearly,” you mutter, motion to the cake and the flag. “You make that abundantly clear.”

#calum hood #calum hood fanfic #calum hood fic #calum hood imagine #calum hood series #dad!cal #dadl!cal series #dad!calum #h writes #5sos #5sos fanfic #5sos fic #5 seconds of summer fanfic #5 seconds of summer fic #5 seconds of summer imagine #calum hood x black oc

[dragracereviews]

RPDR Winners Ranked!

Disclaimer: the following list is MY opinion so don't come for me. Also, this won't be including All Stars winners, I'll do a separate list for that!

#11 - Tyra Sanchez, S2: Don't even get me fucking started on Tyra. I was 100% Team Raven and I'm still not over it.

#10 - Bebe Zahara Benet, S1: Elephant in the room; season one just kind of sucked. Bebe did the best she could given the low budget and lackluster challenges and ultimately came out on top because of it. I personally liked Nina Flowers a little more but I’m not mad at Bebe’s win. However, I wasn’t a huge fan of her on AS3, even though her extreme confidence was rather amusing. I do love saying “Kamerooooon” though!

#9 - Violet Chachki, S7: Another disclaimer: I don’t dislike anybody on this list below Tyra, they’re just victims of not being my favorites. Violet started off in episode one being not extremely likeable, but that changed over the course of the season and by the finale, I had basically accepted the fact that she was going to win. I was Team Ginger though and let’s be honest, it was between her and Violet because Pearl had no chance in hell of winning after “is there something on my face?” gate. I do appreciate Violet’s art and I love that she seems to be pretty close with some of her season 7 sisters. And no reveal, at least in my opinion, has ever come close to Violet’s fall runway. Just saying.

#8 - Aquaria, S10: On first viewing, I didn’t NOT like Aquaria, but I didn’t love her either. I was actually rooting for Eureka to win because it’s high time a big queen places higher than runner up! Rewatching it though, I do see why Ru gave her the crown; her runways were perfect and for such a young queen, she was so fucking polished. I was Team Miz Cracker in that iconic “twin” rivalry, but again, I don’t hate Aquaria, she just isn’t one of my top faves. I do respect her and her drag and I’m sure with age, she is just going to get that much better (if that’s even possible)!

#7 - Raja, S3: It almost breaks my heart not to have Raja higher on this list but it's no fault of her own, some of her fellow winners are just that great. Despite being a part of the Heathers clique, I found Raja to be not at all like her shady ass friends. She was the classiest of the bunch (though I do love Manila too) and she metaphorically pissed on that fucking runway every episode. I always found her very attractive out of drag, so that was an added bonus. I was extremely happy when she won! TOOT!

#6 - Sasha Velour, S9: I just went to Sasha’s “Smoke and Mirrors” show in the fall and it reignited my love for this bald queen. I adored her on season 9 and even though most people were expecting Shea to win, I wasn’t mad when she won instead. Her lip syncing at the finale was EPIC and I do believe she beat Shea fair and square. I kind of hoped they would’ve retired the lip sync battle after this season though because I don’t believe it’s a fair way to determine the winner but hey, when has Ru ever listened to what the fans want, amirite? Regardless, I love Sasha and I can never look at rose petals the same way again.

#5 - Yvie Oddly, S11: The hate that Yvie got on her season, particularly from Silky, made me so fucking angry. She came from an honest, but caring place whenever she gave her fellow queens critiques and those bitches just couldn’t handle it (sorry Vanjie, ily). My initial reaction to her winning was slight disappointment, just because as a Canadian, I really wanted Brooke to win, but upon further reflection, I think Yvie deserved it more. She went through a lot of shit in her life and throughout filming and to see her snag the crown after so many people doubted her was so amazing. Also, I’ve met her IRL and she’s is so sweet and a fucking fierce performer. You do you Yvie.

#4 - Sharon Needles, S4: Here we have another underdog. Although Sharon’s fight with Phi Phi O’Hara on the show was iconic (”Tired ass show girl!” “At least I am a showgirl, bitch! Go back to Party City where you belong!”), she did not deserve to be put in just a “spooky” box. Sharon is versatile as fuck, and her changing aesthetic over the years is proof of that. And again, she’s a hot boy so she gets bonus points for that. Love you Sharon!

#3 - Bob the Drag Queen, S8: This season was the first I ever watched so it will always been one of my faves. As much as I loved Naomi Smalls and Kim Chi, I knew Bob was going to win it because she’s just so fucking funny. Yes, her looks weren’t always the most polished, but I adored her anyway and I love her even more outside of the show. In case you didn’t know, she’s actually good friends with Trixie and she even took over Katya’s spot on the “Trixie and Katya Show” on Viceland when Katya went to rehab. We stan a queen who’s there for her friends!

#2 - Jinkx Monsoon, S5: As mentioned in previous lists, I have since forgiven Roxxxy Andrews for picking on my little baby Jinkx, but it still made my heart so happy when Jinkx beat her to the crown. This narcoleptic ginger was adorable then and even more adorable now; I swear her laugh could cure cancer. And if you haven’t watched “Cool Mom” on WOW Presents’ YouTube channel yet, you’re missing out! Jinkx, if you’re reading this, will you be my mom?

#1 - Bianca Del Rio, S6: Hands down, the undisputed winner of the best season of Drag Race. I fucking stan Adore Delano but I was not at all upset with the outcome because Bianca was unbeatable. I. Love. This. Bitch!

[13leaguestories]

what would be the dragon rider ro's response to the MC being scared of water/complete darkness? im a sucker for that kinda fluffy shit

(Water Fear) Cassius: *softly says* “Talk me through your fear, I want to know about it. Tell me everything.” *the two of you sit on the edge of the beach as you explain it to him, his arms around you as you speak*

(Darkness Fear) Shader: *with a cocky smirk he lights his hands on fire and reaches for you with his free hand* “Good thing that I’m hear then, I’ll be your light, always.”

(Water Fear) Nyx: *whistles Zahara to her side and turns to you* “Do you drust me?” *you allow her to help you into Zahara’s saddle, her arms wrapped around you as Zahara dives into the water, Nyx’s arms tightening around you as she lends you strength. Nyx motions for Zahara to dive towards the reef allowing you to see the beauty resting there.*

(Darkness Fear) Saren: *hugs you close* “I’ve feared the darkness too, kinda do still ... but I think this situation is different for both of us now. A tiny little variable called each other.”

#roa ask

[hellas-himself]

🌻🌾🌺🌼 for my girl Zahara!

ahhhhh cait !!!!

🌻 What little things do they notice about people or the world around them that make them happy? What tiny little treasures do they find in the normal every day that makes the world seem a little brighter for them?

One thing that makes her happy is hearing her loved ones laugh. She loves to see the way their dimples show or their nose scrunches up. She loves the sunrise, a reminder that she’s survived another day though eventually, she does more than just survive. She holds on to things from her “mortal life” like still going through the motions instead of using her powers to get something done. She’s obsessed with taking pictures and writing, keeping memories (and if i told you why you’d hate me lmao) Books and food (pizza and dessert specifically) are the quickest way to her heart. 

🌾 Describe your OC through the eyes of someone absolutely head-over-heels in love with them

oh hohooooooo hmmmm I’ll go with Samson this time because I never really bring him up because my friend hasn’t gotten that far in the story lmao I LOVE HIM OKAY and I love writing in his POV So for context- when Samson died, if you’ve ever read the bible you know he had his eyes removed right? so anyway, in the story, he is brought back but cursed to see only the soul, nothing more. so he has never actually seen Zahara physically (so far in the story)

Zahara is fire made flesh. I lost a wife to the flames once, but I knew the moment I saw Zahara’s soul that even if she had been the one that started that fire, I would have followed her to the very depths of hell itself. Her soul is like the brightest star in all of this endless darkness. Her soul turns pink when I make her blush, but most of the time, it’s a storm of blues and greys. Sometimes, it’s so dark it rival’s her father’s. It is then when she seeks me out, if I haven’t already gone to her, but she says she doesn’t have to pretend with me, and that is when my past doesn’t feel like something worthy of shame. Her soul is the color of sunflowers when she’s happy, and I could listen to her read those books she loves to much for hours to see the blues change into yellow. Her hands are soft and small in mine, and she is always reaching out to hold my hand. To lean into me. And I welcome it- Zahara is safe. She feels like home, as she is so keen to say about me. 

🌺 What does your OC do to calm down when they’re scared or after a nightmare? Do they have any special comfort items or need to be reassured by a specific person? How do they handle this if they’re alone?

Zahara suffers from nightmares often. She wears a ring that belonged to Samson that she tends to twist around her finger when she’s nervous. She sleeps in someone else’s shirt (Usually Samson’s or Emmanuel’s) When she’s scared, she likes to joke around but she will admit her fears to her bestfriends and her parents. She needs to talk about them to avoid staying stuck in her head. When she is alone, she tries to breathe and ground herself to avoid panicking but she will sneak into Emmanuel’s room and hop in bed with him. He hardly sleeps so half the time, he’s already waiting for her. (She meets him before Samson and they’re all bestfriends. She starts doing the same with Sam once she gets closer to him). 

🌼 Who are this characters friends and found family? How did they meet, how long have they been friends for, could they ever be something more than just friends? What do they look for in a friend or a romantic partner?

Her bestfriends are June Rosado, Andrea and Frank Morandi (they’re married). She met June and Andrea in first grade after writing her name on pennies and leaving them under her bed for the devil to find (this is a legit thing my grandma raised me on and forbade me to do ok lol) She wished to ‘never be alone’. Those three do everything together, still have sleepovers and have girls’ night when one of them needs it. 

Frank met them in middle school and June says they were all drawn to Zahara like ‘a moth to a flame’. Frank is very much like an older brother to Zahara and June, and while he can be a pain in the ass, he is such a protector and would do anything for them. 

Before Frank became Andrea’s boyfriend, the girls had their fun together (take that as you will). But June is now seeing Josiah who is part of Zahara’s ‘found family’. Josiah is the closest to a brother Zahara has (after frank), and those two are so protective of each other they’d do anything to keep each other safe. and they have- which is why we find them in the problems they are in currently >_

Emmanuel is also part of her found family. Those two have the most insane chemistry and the tension is fucking thicccccc she meets him as her father’s body guard but she notices that there’s more to his line of work than he lets on so she teased him constantly about it. They bicker constantly and make fun of each other, pull pranks. but he is so ridiculously giving and understanding of her emotions and he loves her so much there is very little he wouldn’t do for her and the same goes with Z. 

David Velez was the closest thing to a father she had before finding her family but that got taken from her too :)

Zahara and Samson become inseparable after some big life things happen and for the first time in her life, she isn’t afraid of feeling or letting herself be more than friends. she has been through some shit and Samson has faced the same traumas she has. THOSE TWO THO. the second Samson was written into the story that was it. 

Zahara values honesty over everything. Her entire life was built on a lie prior to finding her family and she forgives so easily- as long as she wasn’t lied to/as long as the person didn’t harm her loved ones. this girl can hold a grudge and I almost feel sorry for those who cross her. (but i’m really not.) She can and will (and has) shed blood to protect those she loves. She is so fiercely loyal and if she can be herself without fear of being taken advantage of, you’ve won her over. (giving her sugared donuts also helps)

@myfeyrelady thank you for asking me about her!!!! I loved answering them!!!

#tag meme #oc asks #Zahara morningstar #idek what her ship names are but there are so many ways it can go #oc meme #these are the cutest questions ever #ask about my ocs

[artificialqueens]

Trial of the Magician (Pearlax/Trixya), Chapter 1 - Grey Darling

a/n: Hey guys! Yes, I am starting yet another new fic, but this is the last one for a while, I promise. Anyway, this is the first installment of a fantasy au I’ve been thinking about for a while now, and I know it’s a little different than the usual fare you get with this fandom, but I hope you all enjoy nevertheless!

Violet had always enjoyed summer nights, hiding under the blanket of darkness, a soft warm breeze blowing through her dark hair. She’d never know that pleasure if she lived a sheltered, human life, where everything happened indoors and nobody knew the pleasure of sleeping under a canopy of stars. Yes, being a mage - well, a poor mage - meant living as a nomad, travelling from place to place and never settling in one town for more than a week. But Violet liked that life, and although she enjoyed the occasional bout of ostentation, there was no way she’d rather live.

Of course, it’d be much worse if she had to do it alone.

Her sister, Max, sat on the other side of the campfire, scratching out a design in the dirt with a stick she’d found nearby. Although they were twins, the pair couldn’t look more different - Violet was all dark and sultry, with a tiny waist accentuating her curves and plenty of skin on show through her ebony clothes. On the other hand, Max was as pale and as pure as the moon itself - grey hair, pale skin, lanky, androgynous form. Violet often admired her sister for her cool temper, which balanced out Violet’s quick one in ways that had saved them from more scrapes than she’d care to admit.

She and Max had travelled together since their parents passed seven years ago when they were both just fifteen. It had been hard at first - their parents had always been the ones to guide them through their nomadic life, teaching which terrain to avoid for setting up camp, how to barter for and sell any goods, how to live off the land. But the girls were nowhere near ready to strike out on their own, so the first few years were more difficult than anything they’d ever gone through before. Yet through hard work and determination, the magical sisters had got through life as best they could, and now they couldn’t imagine living any other way.

That night they’d set up camp in the woods, just off the dirt path that lead through it. They were far enough not to be seen by the average traveller, but not so far that they’d lose themselves trying to get back to the trail. If Violet’s map reading skills were any sort of accurate, she’d say they’d be able to make it out of the dense forest by tomorrow afternoon.

“I was thinking,” Max began, scratching away at the dirt, “we could go to Fortbridge next. It’s close by, and I hear they’re short on doctors willing to care for the poorer folk.”

“You think they’ll pay us, though?” Violet asked, cocking an arched eyebrow. They were always travelling from place to place looking for money - that was the life of the poor, nomadic mage. They weren’t rich enough to afford a proper home or protection, so they had to keep moving, getting money from wherever they could, however they could. That was just how it was - and if they weren’t constantly on the move, then the mage traders would get them.

And that was equivalent to a death sentence.

Max nodded. “It wouldn’t be much, but it’d be something. Besides, they need help… I want to give it to them.”

Violet smiled - of course she did. Max was nothing if not charitable, and her talent for the healing arts was a great aid to her generous nature. She’d been born with the gift of restoration, the powers of healing and protecting coursing through her very blood. The number of cuts and bruises she’d tended to on Violet alone were countless. Violet, on the other hand, was an illusionist, a distorter of reality. She could twist and bend the fabric of the world however she liked - although she was far from an expert in her craft.

“Of course you do,” Violet said with a grin, her eyes flashing in the firelight. “You make me look bad, Maxie.”

“I do not!” she protested, looking up from her drawing with a huff. “I think it’s impossible to make you look bad.”

Violet tossed her thick, dark hair over her shoulder. “Is that why all the handsome mercenaries flirt with you at the taverns, then?”

Max flushed and ducked her head. Both girls had a certain allure about them - Violet, seductive and mysterious, Max, sweet and delicate. They made for quite the pair. “They’re hardly flirting with me, silly. They just want to use me to get to you, that’s all.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Violet chided. “You’re pretty, Maxie. Deal with it.”

A small chuckle escaped Max’s lips, but their conversation was soon interrupted by the sound of voices drifting from the trail. Exchanging a glance of concern, Violet and Max fell deathly silent. They needed to be paranoid, always on the lookout. There was every chance that any old traveller could be a mage trader in disguise, a horrid creature who kidnapped unprotected mages and sold them into slavery, separating them from their families and their freedom. To be kidnapped by mage traders was to lose oneself forever.

“It could just be a merchant?” Max suggested, her voice a soft whisper.

Violet shook her head. “We can’t be sure unless we check. Come on - if it’s traders, I can cast a cloak of invisibility over us.”

“It might be safer to stay here, Vi.”

“But we can’t afford that risk. Let’s go.”

Violet deftly hopped to her feet, her leather boots not making a sound on the dirt ground. With a small sigh, Max rose too - although with a touch less grace than Violet. As pretty as she was, Max had always been rather awkward and gangly, her immense height not helping her case. Raising a finger to her lips, Violet lead her reluctant sister through the trees, casting a cloak of silence over them to hide their movements.

Arriving at the edge of the trail, Violet and Max hid behind a thick tree trunk, peering out either side to see what they were dealing with. It was mage traders alright, made obvious by the large wagon pulled along by strong, athletic horses, their muscular frames shining in the light of the torches fixed to the wagons metal sides. One figure was visible in the dull orange light - a short, squat woman dressed in a ragged leather garb, pistols secured in holsters on either side of her belt.

“Zahara’s mercy…” Violet cursed softly under her breath. “It’s traders…”

Max tensed beside her, watery blue eyes growing wide. “Oh, goodness… Vi, cast-”

Before Max could finish, a muscular arm wrapped around her waist and yanked her away, Max crying out as a dagger was thrusted against her slender throat, its make crude but the blade sharp nonetheless. Violet’s eyes went wide, and she went to grab Max out of her captor’s grasp before she was shoved to the ground herself, coughing roughly as a booted foot was placed against her back.

“You think you’re clever, don’t you, little witch?” The voice of Violet’s attacker was slow and drawling, mocking her for her failure and throwing in a slur to add insult to injury. “Castin’ your fancy mufflin’ spells and shit.”

Max’s captor laughed, a gravelly sound that drowned out Max’s struggling whimpers. “We know the game by now, we weren’t born yesterday.”

Violet let out a gasp as her attacker removed her boot from her back, but that gasp soon turned into a cry of pain as she twisted her hand in her dark hair and pulled her up to her feet. “You a trickster, then?”

“Illusionist,” Violet growled, her whole body tensing with each foul slur they threw at her. “And it’s none of your business what I am.”

“Oh, we got a feisty one!” Max’s captor cried in delight, and Violet could just make out a wide grin spreading out in the dark. “What about you, girly? Got something to say?”

Max, always a timid one, didn’t say a thing, paralysed by fear and dread. Violet had never seen her look so terrified, and the only thing that stopped her from lashing out at their attackers was the brutal knife held against her sister’s neck. The muscular woman sneered, angling the blade a little so that it just broke the skin, and Max whimpered as a thin ribbon of blood started to trail down her pale throat.

“Let go of her,” Violet ordered through gritted teeth, her vision turning red.

“Hmmm… no, I don’t think so,” the muscular woman replied. “She’s pretty, ain’t she? What kinda witchery you got, girly?”

Squeezing her eyes shut, Max croaked out her reply. “R- restor- restoration…”

The pair of traders exchanged wicked smiles, the sort of smiles that turned Violet’s blood to ice. Of the four schools of magic, restorers were easily the most sought after by mage traders - they fetched the best price on the market given how useful they were. Illusionists, on the other hand, sold for next to nothing.

Why did Max have to be so damn honest?

“Ooooh, we’re gonna make some coin with this one!” Max’s muscular captor announced with glee, a cruel, harsh cackle colouring her words. Her companion’s laugh was slower, more sadistic, characterised by the same drawl as her speaking voice. 

“Think they’re both worth it? Little miss trickster here could be a nice bonus.”

There was a beat of silence as the muscular one thought it over. “No. If the buyers know the healer hangs out with tricksters, she’ll sell for less. Ditch the other one.”

Before she could react, Violet was forcefully shoved back down onto the forest floor, coughing as the impact winded her. She cried out as her attacker grabbed her wrist and tied a slim rope around it, attaching her to a tree branch so she couldn’t do anything to stop them. Violet screamed in protest as the muscular one reached into her pocket and pulled out a cloth, forcing it over Max’s face until her eyes rolled to the back of her head, fully unconscious.

Violet struggled and pulled at the rope, doing everything in her power to free herself and go after Max. She wracked her brain for some kind of spell she could cast to stall the traders, but she’d only studied her magic to the extent of simple parlour tricks - invisibility, silencing, changing how things looked. She could hardly bend reality to stop them - no wonder illusionists sold for so little, they were bloody useless.

She could only watch as her sleeping sister was dragged down to the wagon, the short, stout woman from before attaching thick iron manacles to her wrists - a mages worst nightmare. Those manacles stifled a mage’s power, dampened their abilities to next to nothing. So long as they were painfully attached to Max’s wrists, she was powerless to help herself.

Once the manacles were attached, she was unceremoniously thrown into the back of the wagon, and the sight of a second mage in there with her was only a small relief. At least she wouldn’t suffer alone - but Violet didn’t want her to suffer at all. Hot tears streamed down her cheeks as she wrestled against the rope, thin and deceptively strong. It was only when she noticed a sharp rock on the ground beside her that she saw her way out.

Grabbing it with her free hand, Violet used every last reserve of strength to saw at the rope, gritting her teeth as it started to split. With a panicked gaze, she looked over at the trail and cursed as she saw the wagon receding into the distance, the cruel cackling of the traders ringing throughout the night. Devils, the lot of them.

After what felt like years, Violet finally severed the rope. Wasting no time to gather her things from their now abandoned campsite, she cast a cloak of invisibility over herself and began her mad dash down the trail, praying to every god there ever was that she could catch up in time.

***

She followed them for hours, the depth of night slowly transitioning into the dull lilacs and oranges of early morning. Violet had thought she’d lost the wagon in the woods, the trees dense and the path twisted and winding. Only once she’d reached the clearing did she finally see it, the great metal box trundling down the road, pulled by its muscular horses who were ridden by the foul traders themselves. If she was a wielder of destruction magic, she would’ve ruined them in an instant.

With her cloak of invisibility still cast over her, Violet stalked towards the wagon, keeping her footsteps light so her bootprints weren’t too obvious in the dirt. But no sooner did she get a mere few feet behind the wagon did her spell begin to falter, losing its power after being held for hours. If it faded now, the traders would see her, and what good with that do?

“Shit… shit…” Violet muttered as her ghostly figure began to break through the cloak, growing visible in the morning light.

Spotting a bush nearby, Violet ducked behind it, watching the wagon from her hiding spot. Fortunately, they’d reached a valley, meaning that the wagon would be easy to see even from a distance - she wouldn’t lose sight of it now. 

As she waited for the spell to wear off, Violet’s thoughts drifted to Max, her sweet sister caught in the jaws of the slave trade. She’d never survive it - traders treated their victims like they were nothing, unworthy of even the basics of human kindness. Max was a waif, with a delicate constitution and a preference for pacifism that was a boon in some situations, and a curse in others. Now, it was the latter. If those monsters hurt her, would she fight back? No, because it wasn’t in her nature. Maybe that made her weak, maybe that made her pitiful, but all that Violet cared about was that it made her vulnerable. 

She’d already lost her parents. She didn’t need to lose her sister too.

With the invisibility spell fully worn off, Violet needed to think of a new plan. Hopefully, it had been too dark for the traders to get a good look at her face when they first met, so there was every chance she could just wander down the trail and not get caught. It was just about the only option she had - she’d used up all her power sustaining her invisibility for so long, so casting another would be impossible until she rested. Unfortunately, she didn’t have time for that.

So, throwing her hood over her head to hide her face, Violet carried on, the wagon in her sights.

***

“Hey? Hey, you awake?”

“Hmmm…”

“Can you hear me? They didn’t hurt you that badly, did you?”

The warmth in the girl’s voice was the only thing that cut through the immense chill that was sinking into Max’s bones, freezing her to the core. Her head was pounding as she opened her eyes, blinking once or twice to try and clear the haze that coated her vision. She knew she wasn’t where she was supposed to be. Violet wasn’t there… Neither was the forest or the warmth of summer…

The memories of the ambush all came flooding back - the knife to her throat, Violet getting thrown around like a ragdoll, and the fear that had turned her to stone. With a start, Max bolted upright, a scream-like gasp escaping her throat, panic rising from her stomach and choking her. A soft, manacled hand rested on her shoulder, and that same warm voice drifted into her ears.

“Hey, hey! It’s alright.”

“It- it’s not… Violet… I have to get to Violet…”

“I don’t think you’re going anywhere,” the girl told her, a slight sadness to her now. “Even if you wanted to. Neither of us can.”

Max glanced over at her companion, a dark-skinned, plumper girl with a braided hairstyle commonly found in the north. Although she was locked up in chains, there was a smile on her face, albeit a weary one. “Oh…”

“I tried getting us out,” the girl said with a sigh. “But these stupid manacles keep getting in the way… Can’t conjure up a key when you’re all chained up, right?”

“You’re a conjurer?” Talking to the girl was grounding her, calming her down. If Max could keep her talking, she’d have more time to relax, and then she could think with more clarity. 

The girl nodded. “That’s right. I’m Jaidynn, by the way.”

“Max…”

“Good to meet you! Nice if we could’ve met differently, but that’s life, I guess.”

“You seem awfully calm about this,” Max remarked shakily, hanging her head. It was taking all the strength she had not to break down in tears - she’d been kidnapped, taken to be sold. Unless she could figure out how to escape, which would take a miracle, her life was over forever. How could Jaidynn seem so chipper?

Jaidynn shrugged. “I just been in the back of this wagon for a while, I guess. And you look really scared, so y’know, thought I’d try and make things a bit easier for you. Because things are always less scary if you got a friend by your side, right?”

“Right… Thank you.”

Max tried her best to smile, but instead, her lips twisted into a frown as her inner strength broke down, and the tears flowed as freely as they could. As she buried her head in her hands, sobs wracking her body, Jaidynn went to her side in an instant. She hugged her as best she could with the manacles in the way, in the end just letting Max lean against her shoulder and cry into it. 

It wasn’t enough to comfort her. It’d never be enough to comfort her. But at least it was something.     

#rpdr fanfiction #violet chachki #max malanaphy #ginger minj #jasmine masters #kennedy davenport #jaidynn diore fierce #violax #dungeons and drag queens #trial of the magician #fantasy #grey darling #concrit welcome #submission #lesbian au

[bat-from-helll]

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Hey! This is a small thing I wrote about the incident in the tunnels that created Strat and the Lost. Obviously it’s my own interpretation so it’s not canon compliant, but no hate please! I hope you guys like it - it is long tho just warning y’all!

Bodies grind against each other to the inconsistent beat bouncing off the abandoned tunnel walls, the humidity in the boiling air trapping the sweat against their skin. The band on the makeshift stage plays with hurried expression as if at any point the world could fall around them. The tunnels are filled with debauchery and alcohol, with heavy clothing piled in corners to stave off the sweaty heat and barrels filled with ethanol to make the night fun.

In one corner, drinking from chipped mugs, is the next band that’s going to play, a group of boys laughing as they wait for their turn on the stage. In the middle of the group, a red guitar slung over his shoulder, greasy blonde hair tumbling down to his shoulders, bright blue eyes tracking the movements of the bodies in the dark, is Strat.

Not the Strat he would forever be known as, but a younger Strat, a kinder Strat. The Strat he would become just a seed inside of him that needed a blazing inferno to grow.

His pants stick to his legs like a second skin, and he’s already forgone his shirt in the heat, tucked it into his waistband instead of wearing it. He downs the rest of his mostly-ethanol drink and throws the mug against the wall, watching the shards scatter over his bandmates boots.

His bandmate grumbles as Strat laughs at the mess.

“Don’t worry about it, Champ,” Strat laughs, leaning in closer to his bandmate, “I would never hurt you.” He slings an arm across Champ’s shoulder which is immediately thrown off.

“Let’s just get onstage,” His bandmate motions to where the previous band had finished playing. Strat laughs again and starts walking to the stage. The ground rumbles under his feet and he stumbles, laughing again.

His bandmates make it to the stage before him, and then the ceiling caves in. The last thing Strat remembers is the trail of ceramic shards left by his bandmates shoes on the group.

-

There’s a ringing in his ears.

Strat coughs as light appears from above and hands grab his shoulders, pulling and tugging with all their might. He kicks out, trying to get rid of the weight that’s crushing him against the tunnel floor. Something gives and suddenly he’s sprawled across a body, coughing his lungs out as the dust settles around him.

There’s an unfamiliar, chemical taste on his tongue that’s burning his throat.

Strat pulls himself up, still coughing, using the rubble next to him as a crutch. The body under him groans and more hands appear, pulling the two of them farther away from the rubble. Something dabs at Strat’s temple and he flinches away.

The ringing in his ears fades. The noise of the scene, crying, screaming, muttering, all rushes into his ears and he fights the urge to vomit. Instead, he focuses on the hands and the people around him, helping him.

“Careful,” The hands plop him down against the far wall, “You were under the rubble,” Strat looks to where the stage used to be, finding rubble, bodies, movements as people try to pull others out from under the concrete, and blood, so much blood, staining the ground, running and mixing with the moisture in the air.

He stares down at his own stained hands as someone tries to keep him from bleeding from a head wound. A small part of him wants them to leave, to let him bleed out.

There’s so much blood.

He coughs again as the person ties a piece of material around his head, tightly.

“What’s your name?” Strat finds himself asking, looking up at the person.

“Zahara,” The black woman smiles, plopping herself down next to him, “The guy who pulled you out is LeDoux.” She motions to the man on his other side.

Strat nods to the muscled man. The man nods back.

“What happened?” Strat refocuses his eyes on the rubble. The crying is louder now, along with the muttering. Somewhere far away, a girl is screaming.

“The ceiling came down,” LeDoux answers, “Crushed the stage and anyone on the dance floor. It’s a miracle you survived.”

Strat lets out a low noise, looking back at the rubble. The noise around the three grows louder until there’s a clear, visceral scream.

“We’re TRAPPED!” The voice shrieks and a female body rounds the corner, tears streaming down her face, followed by a man, “We’re fucking trapped down here,” She shrieks again. The man grabs her before she can start running again.

Panic sets into the crowd and Strat clutches his head as the noise gets louder. The woman, now sobbing, is steered in the direction of the only wall space free, next to Zahara. She’s muttering and clutching the man like a lifeline and it bothers Strat.

Everything is bothering Strat. The noise, the blood on his hands, the pounding in his head, the smell in the air, the noise the chemical taste on his tongue, the noise!

“Everyone SHUT UP!” Strat rushes to his feet, standing so he can face most of the people still alive in the tunnel, “Just shut up for two seconds!” His head hurts as he screams but the noise dies down almost instantly.

He looks at the woman leaning against the wall next to Zahara, “What’s your name?”

“Valkyrie,” She says in a small voice.

“Why were you screaming?”

“We have no way out. We’re trapped down here.”

“The tunnels lead out don’t they?” Zahara cuts in.

“No,” The man next to Valkyrie shakes his head. Strat notices that his leg is bleeding badly, “The tunnels on this side are all dead ends used to house old cars. We’ve got no way out.”

“We are trapped,” Someone else mutters.

“We’re all gonna die,” The noise starts up again.

“SHUT UP!” Strat clutches his head before screaming, “JUST SHUT UP! No one is dying.” He looks at everyone, there’s maybe 20 people and most of them are badly hurt. And now they’re looking at him like he has the answers, all because he decided to speak up. Shit. “What we need to do is take care of each other,” He looks at the terrified, tear-streaked faces, “Help each other, and then we dig our way out. ” He glances back to the rubble for a second.

“What about the gas?” A voice asks. The man next to Valkyrie motions to a section next to the rubble.

“What?” Strat turns and looks where he’s pointing. As he moves his head, his headache worsens. There’s an exposed pipe, split open from the ceiling falling down, and an orange-colored gas is seeping out of it.

He only notices the letters FAL on the side of the pipe before he’s clutching his head in pain.

“You heard him!” Zahara says, grabbing him and setting him back down, “Start helping people! Go do shit!”

“Argh,” Strat can’t think straight through the pounding headache. Zahara tightens her grip on his arm.

“It’s gonna hurt for a little while longer, sweetie,” Zahara tells him before collapsing back into her original position.

“Strat,” Strat says, “My name is Strat.”

“Strat,” LeDoux pats his arm, “Nice name.” Strat nods back, giving LeDoux a small smile in the process.

Then, his headache gets unbearable. His body curves inward as he clutches his head, the pounding consuming his thoughts. Hands pat his back comfortingly from both sides as he curls.

“You have a concussion,” Zahara’s hands move to his head, feeling his temples.

“No shit,” Strat forces out. LeDoux laughs. It’s the last thing Strat hears before black overtakes his senses again.

-

Strat opens his eyes to find nothing has changed.

“Good, you’re awake,” Zahara passes him a cup filled with clear liquid. Strat takes a drink and realizes it’s water, not alcohol like he was secretly hoping.

“How long?” Strat forces himself to his feet, which turns out to be a terrible idea when his stomach protests and its contents end up splashing against the wall of the tunnel, right next to LeDoux. The man gives Strat a glare and Strat gives him an apologetic look. LeDoux’s eyes soften.

“Just a few hours,” Zahara says, passing Strat what’s left of his shirt so he can wipe his mouth.

Strat looks around to find most people are either sleeping off whatever injuries they have or are tending to the wounded.

“I didn’t think they’d listen to me,” He says.

“They needed someone to tell them what to do,” LeDoux answers his unspoken question, “You took charge. That’s why they listened.”

Strat lets his words hang in the air, glancing towards the rubble to find some people already starting to move it.

“You need to stay off your feet,” Zahara says, moving Strat back down into a sitting position against the wall but away from his sick, “I’m concerned about the concussion.”

Strat laughs lowly but doesn’t say anything back. He doesn’t know what to say. Everything is so fucked in his head right now he doesn’t know how to process anything. And he wants to know why his legs aren’t hurting when he thinks they should be.

He looks down at his legs, set on answering one question. They’re scrapped to hell and back, but they’ve been cleaned somewhat and the bleeding is minimal. Thankfully.

Strat suddenly feels a longing for his guitar, which is probably buried under the rubble with his bandmates and the stage.

He shivers.

“Here,” Zahara hands him a leather jacket he recognizes instantly. It’s one of the jackets that was made for his band, The Lost. Ironic it survived just like him.

“Where did you get this?” Strat asks as he slings the black leather over his shoulder.

“Pulled it out from the rubble near where I found you,” LeDoux is the one that answers, shrugging “Figured it was yours.”

Strat nods and clings to the leather. It’s comforting in a way he didn’t think it would be.

“The Lost was your band right?” Zahara asks. Strat nods instead of answering, “Sorry.” She winces as she looks at the rubble, all the red running out of it.

“At least I made it out,” Strat says. He doesn’t see the point in mourning his bandmates, they were all runaways like himself, lost children in a broken world. The name of their band was literal.

LeDoux pats him on the shoulder.

Strat stands up and puts the jacket on fully, staring at the rubble pile. “I’m going to help,” He says before walking towards where others are moving the rubble. Zahara makes a squawking sound and follows him.

“You shouldn’t be moving around.” She insists as Strat bends down to pick up and move some of the stained rubble.

“Don’t care,” Is all Strat says in response. After a few seconds, he realizes that Zahara and LeDoux are helping right next to him. He gives Zahara a raised eyebrow.

She shrugs, “If I can’t stop you, I might as well join you.”

“Hey,” Valkyrie joins them, dragging the guy she’s with behind her, “This is Blake, by the way.”

“Hey,” Blake picks up a piece of the rubble and shifts it to the side. The people already working on the rubble, including a guy who can’t take his eyes off of Zahara’s arm muscles, smile at the group as they begin helping.

It takes a long time and 4 more people joining in the effort, but the group manages to make a significant dent in the rubble by the time they become tired. Strat, in particular, feels like shit, his arms aching as he moves to sit on one of the larger pieces of rubble they managed to move away. His eyes drift to the pipe in the corner, and the letters FAL. He doesn’t know what it means and it bothers him.

At least the gas coming out of the pipe isn’t orange anymore.

“Getting tired?” The guy who kept staring at Zahara asks.

“Yeah,” Strat nods and the guy sits down in front of him, “The concussion isn’t helping.”

“You’ve got a concussion?”

“Zahara tells me I do.”

“That’s Zahara, right?” The guy motions to her. Strat nods. “I’m Jagwire by the way.”

“Strat.”

They sit in silence until LeDoux comes over and sits next to Jagwire.

“LeDoux,” He nods at Jagwire.

“Jagwire.”

“Blake,” Blake plops himself down on the other side of Jagwire, “So, what’s the plan Strat?”

“I don’t have one.”

“You gotta,” LeDoux says, “Everyone’s looking at you for leadership.”

“I didn’t ask them to,” Strat defends.

“Yes, you did.” Strat gives him a look, “When you yelled at us to stop panicking and start helping people,” Jagwire explains, “You basically told us you were our leader.”

“I don’t want to be your leader.”

“Tough,” LeDoux says, “You are.”

Strat doesn’t answer him, choosing instead to look up at the mountain of rubble they still have to move in order to get out. He feels the weight of responsibility resting on his shoulders, the weight of everyone else hoping he has a solution to this nightmare.

He hates it.

In the dim light, he looks down at his own hands, once stained red with his own blood, now stained with whoever’s blood coated the pieces of rubble. The floor beneath his shoes was stained as well, and he’d decided to just ignore the crunch under his feet when he was moving the rubble.

“Let’s just get everyone out of here,” Strat says eventually, standing up. The boys stand with him, almost flanking him as he walks back to the rubble.

They all fan out to clear the rubble.

-

It takes a while, but eventually, they reach the other side of the rubble and make a hole big enough for everyone to get through. When Strat’s lungs hit non-chemical air they erupt in protest, forcing him into a coughing fit. Looking around, Strat sees LeDoux, Jagwire, Zahara, everyone in the tunnel coughing as well.

Something fucked up must have been in that chemical leak. Strat’s not too concerned though, the chemicals don’t seem to be killing them any faster than the rest of the world is.

The small group Strat has amassed helps each injured person through the hole in the rubble before they set off through the tunnels towards the surface.

“Jag, Doux, Blake,” Strat calls as the last person climbs through the hole, “Stay back.”

“What’s up?” Jagwire asks as the three boys come up to Strat.

“We should seal it back up,” Strat looks through the hole back at the red splattered walls. He doesn’t know why, but he needs it to be a tomb. He needs it closed and secret and private. He can’t explain it, he just needs.

“Then we will,” LeDoux doesn’t even question Strat, he just starts re-piling the rubble up to block the hole. The others follow suit and in a few minutes, it’s impossible to tell that there was a hole in the rubble at all.

Strat and the boys rejoin the others afterward, leaving the tomb where it is, buried deep in the tunnels below what becomes Obsidian.

A tomb for the lost souls killed in the earthquake, and a tomb for the Lost and their past lives.

#bat out of hell #bat out of hell musical #booh #booh musical #strat #ledoux #zahara #blake #valkyrie #jagwire #fic

[thx-quxxn]

Okay so I saw Bat out of Hell two days ago and I haven’t stopped thinking about it. Below is an incomplete list of things I loved about it because I tried to do a full list and I was two word pages deep after two songs and that’s just way too long.

It’s all under the cut tho because it’s still long:

First of all I’d let Zahara kill me and thank her (also her and that chainsaw are the true OTP)

Secondly, and this is a long one, I love how soft Strat and Raven are with each other. Like, they’re both a little crazy which is nice, it puts them on the same level with each other and it gives them a similarity that typical bad-boy/good-girl pairings don’t have, but they’re so soft with each other. They need to touch each other all the time, when they’re singing ‘making love’ it’s all cautious touches and just being near each other which is honestly cute. They’re probably the first truly believable pairing i’ve seen. And there’s the fact that anytime they’re not the focus of the stage they’re making out which is honestly goals as well. I just really love them, okay?

Thirdly, the whole object scene was SO GOOD. Like, i started crying. It’ so visceral and honest that I cried for all of them. AND AND AND the guys all hugging each other and giving each other support as they talk about their hardships? GOOD SHIT RIGHT THERE that’s some real good shit. I loved it, I especially loved Blake’s whole verse where he’s just singing to them about his abusive dad and his physicality is clearly defensive like he needs to put up walls just to talk about it and as soon as Jag and LeDeux hug him he just crumples. I love that. I love the vulnerability associated with that.

Fourthly, Tink deserved fucking better but I loved his death song and the fact that no one shamed Strat for crying about losing his best friend and soulmate. It was a beautiful scene

There’s so much more (I haven’t even gotten into how much I loved Falco and Sloane as a duo playing against each other) but those are the biggest points I have about the show.

#bat out of hell #booh #booh the musical #strat #raven #zahara #tink #jagwire #ledeux #i loved the musical so much #i wanna see it again so badly but it closes so soon #and tix are sooooo expensive

[skammovistarplus]

Culture and Translation - S01 E06

This is a bit of a weird episode, in that it feels like not much happened. Because Skam España switched a few things around, it seems like episode 6 shouldn’t be the episode in which to hang out with the characters for a while before shit goes down. But one thing that got me hooked to Skam almost straight away was the way you got to “hang out” with the characters even in small, drama-free moments, and this episode has a couple of clips I really like.

CLIP 1: Monday blues

Es que le metiste un corte (You were razor sharp with him): “Meter un corte” is really hard to translate. It basically means to be really cutting with someone when they aren’t expecting it, in a way that shuts the conversation for good. Which Amira did, over and over, but the dude wasn’t getting the hint.

I do think Nora feels a little bad for the guy, but only because Nora is extremely empathetic with everyone in the world, to the point where it’s surprising when she’s not empathetic.

Viri is a great liar. We will come to find out much of what she says in this scene is a lie, but she has no tells. This is why I think the Selena Gomez shoe line thing was Viri teasing the girls, because she broke character almost immediately. If Viri wanted the girls to believe it, we can see here that she would’ve managed.  

Nora’s shirt says, “No means no.” ‘No es no’ was first a slogan for an awareness campaign, promoted by several Spanish city halls, which aimed to curtail sexual abuse and rape during local festivals, such as Sanfermines. There’s also an Axel, Soledad song. And it has of course been slapped on all sorts of merchandise. Like shirts!

The sides of the mirror are tagged with graffiti, by the way.

And also, Eva and Nora are late for first period! They end up skipping it entirely.

CLIP 2: Lucas has feels; Eva’s are stronger

Eva and Lucas are listening to Molly Svrcina’s Fallen Angel. I think the point of the song was lost in how incredibly random the song is. This is a song Lucas recommends Eva listen to. It’s about Lucas, not Eva. Lucas is trying to give a hint to Eva about himself, but Eva’s too focused on the Jorge drama.

While this clip dropped during recess, Eva skipped school. Not sure if Lucas did as well, though.

It’s Viri who shares a birthday with Paris Jackson, as I already wrote in the post for last episode.

Alejandro Reina does a nice bit of acting with his eyes at the 5:22 mark. Lol, Lucas is so fucking tired of the Eva/Jorge drama carousel.    

Y tú me caes de puta madre (“And I think you’re fucking great”): Lucas is not just saying that he thinks Eva’s great. He’s saying he really fucking likes Eva (as a friend, that is!).

Es que sigo enfadada (“‘Cause I’m still upset”): This is a sentiment that will be expressed often this week by Eva, Jorge and Lucas. I’ve seen subs that translate it “enfadada” as “angry” and it’s not wrong, but I feel Eva and Jorge are both more upset than angry during this week. Your mileage may vary, though!

CLIP 3: Ship wars

Cullera: Cullera is a beach city in the Valencia region that has been taken over by tourists (or guiris, if you will!). There are some nice sights, but people visit for the beaches. Many Spanish familes own some sort of apartment by the beach, but Cullera is a step up from the usual, which is Torremolinos. A hint about Inés’ parents’ economic status! Cullera means “spoon” in Valencian language, by the way.

Easter break: The 2019 Easter break runs from the 12th of April to the 22th. Coincidentally, there are some rumors that s2 will premiere after Easter break 2019.

Tú no te líes, que el viaje importante es el de Mallorca, ¿eh? (Okay, but don’t lose sight of the important trip, the Majorca trip, huh?): A closer translation would be: “Don’t get sidetracked, the important trip is the Majorca trip, okay?” Which is actually a shorter line, so we should maybe change that, lol.

Que parezcamos ahí dos lapas como estas parejitas que están por ahí (For us to look like two barnacles like those couples you see everywhere): The literal translation would be, “for us to look like two barnacles like those couples that are around,” but that sounded like shade towards Eva and Jorge, who are also broken up this week. It’s not meant as shade, and in fact Eva has no reaction to it, so I reworked it.

Viri’s economic background is hinted through her confusion with job titles. In Spanish, she doesn’t remember if Alejandro’s father is a “director” (which could be translated as director, manager, and even principal, but also CEO) and “directivo” (executive or CEO). I settled for initials salad.

There is a bit of dialogue at the end that was cut from the episode version. The girls present their final arguments in the Viriandro vs Aleviri debate… which ironically, foreshadowed the Norandro vs Alenora shipname wars. It appears as if most of the fandom has settled on Norandro, at last.

Viri: It’s that, it’s like a Greek god.

Cris: What are you, Voldemort or something?

Viri: It’s like, it’s funny because it’s like a Greek god, like Viriandro is a Greek god sort of name. Yeah, it’s super neat.

Cris: It’s a gladiator name, dude!

Almost totally off topic linguistics note: The girls use the English loanword “ship” in the fandom sense. The verb had obviously crossed language lines in fandom spaces years ago, but it became part of mainstream Spanish culture (yes, really) when Operación Triunfo became big last year, and everyone was shipping couples from the show. The interesting part is that Spanish speakers came up with two declensions for the Spanish form of the verb: “yo lo shippeo” (I ship it) and “yo lo shippo” (again, I ship it). People who had been in fandom longer leaned towards “shippeo” (and so do I!), so I find it aesthetically pleasing that the girls favor that declension.  

CLIP 4: Eva shoots his shot. It doesn’t go well.

I was certain Jorge’s secret would have to do with one or both his parents being unemployed, so at the time I made note of the fact that one of the apartments he walks by is up for sale. It’s the reddish orange sign at the 10:06 mark.

The song that plays at the end of the clip is Zahara’s El Frío, but it has been edited. These are the lyrics that have made it to the clip: “I didn’t expect that the one who started all the fires would also be the one to put them out. How did you let the cold inside you, it has destroyed everything.”

CLIP 5: Speederman

This has to be a change from my high school years. I did the Cooper test in 3º ESO (the equivalent of 9th grade in the US) and never had to do it again through high school. 

More info on the Cooper test, in case you care. Not only was I not tested on a standard 400 m tartan track, but we were also not trained to perform it properly. Ah, high school PE!

Venom premiered in Spain the 5th of October. This clip dropped the 19th of October.

Yes, that is actually how we pronounce Spiderman in Spain.

I love that Nora is into Viri saying she loves anything that has to do with saving the world. Nora is so earnest, lol.

¿O qué vas a hacer, tía? ¿Quedarte en casa llorando? (“Or what do you have in mind, dude? Staying at home, crying?”): Another translation could be, “Or what are you going to do, dude? Stay at home and cry?” but I went with the line in the subs because I thought it flowed better.

Cómo jode que te dejen, ¿eh? (It sucks to be dumped, doesn’t it?): “Sucks” is a lot less charged than “joder,” which is the word Inés actually uses. I guess you’d have to say “fucking sucks” to get the intensity across. You’ll have to make do with Inés’ line delivery.

CLIP 6: Ride of the Valkyries

As it turns out, Alba Planas is also a fan of og Skam, so I’m going to pretend Eva’s string of sorries is also an homage to Tarjei’s delivery.

This scene was shot right outside of Cine Paz. 

Pero no me seáis pavas (“But don’t be silly”): Viri says “pavas,” which is hard to translate. Essentially, Viri’s afraid the girls are going to embarrass her in front of Alejandro, either unintentionally or (not unlikely given this group) intentionally. I.e. they’re not going to behave maturely in front of him.

Madre mía (Good heavens): Okay, so I already talked in the post for episode 5 about the way Amira uses interjections that aren’t swear words, and this is an example of it. “Madre mía” literally means “mother of mine” and it’s basically meaningless as an interjection. What matters is the tone you add to it. In this case, Amira’s impatient that the girls are getting distracted chatting about whatever, instead of going into the theater. I don’t love “good heavens” as it has Christian connotations. On the other hand, “geez” feels too short for how impatient Amira sounds.

It took me a while to realize this, but this clip actually has an og equivalent. This would be the clip where Vilde notices William and Sara hooking up, and looks devastated. Skam España chooses to go about it in a totally different way, with the girls backing Viri up as they walk in.

CLIP 7: Tout le monde veut devenir un cat

Sí, hija, sí (“Yeah, girl, yeah”): Jorge actually calls Eva “daughter,” lol. Much like with tío and tía, we might call anyone “son” or “daughter.” I’ve even caught myself using it on my own parents! If I have the right info, this is also common in Latin American countries, except they use “mijo” and “mija,” instead. “Hijo” or “hija” is more affectionate than “tío” or “tía,” although, much like with “madre mía,” it’s used to express a variety of emotions. Here, Jorge is dismayed that his chocolate romance went awry.

Pretty sure those are knockoff peanut M&Ms. Most likely from the Spanish grocery chain Mercadona.

The song that plays at the end of the clip and through the credits is Bely Basarte’s Mariposas. You can find a translation here. 

Tomás Aguilera, who plays Jorge, has managed to be almost impossible to find online. However, his instagram bio makes reference to the French version of the Aristocats song Everybody wants to be a cat. It’s adorable.

Social media:

The girls talk about the Zaorejas random again, Cris notes that he looked young enough as to be in ESO, or MSE, Mandatory Secondary Education. MSE runs through the equivalents of 7th to 10th grade in the US. 

#culture and translation #skam españa #skam spain #skames #skamesp

[muchadoaboutm]

So I'm gonna talk about Bat Out of Hell the musical bc I went to see it yesterday and I am in love. I’m going through it v. incoherently one song at a time with random interjections, so the actual thing is under a cut bc despite appearances I’m not that cruel

The theatre was packed for one thing. It was mostly people who wanted to see it one last time before it closes next week, but I'm sure I wasn't the only person seeing it for the first time. And the thing I love most about seeing something with people who already know it is how they react. You feel the person next to you tense up before the bad thing happens, they're the first to laugh, you can hear them start to him along and then realise where they are and stop. It's a little magic I think, and I want so badly to see it again and I CAN'T. because it closes in less than a week.

It started gradually which I wasn't expecting, and then all of a sudden the lights went down, the spot light came on, and it was love death and the american guitar times one hundred. And the the sound filled the space---i didn't know you could hear like that. All revved up with no place to go went straight through me, and this is a song that is already incredible

There were lights and there was sound everywhere and it was fucking electrifying and I wanted to fight someone. I stg I've never felt so fucking alive as I did for that six minutes

And oh my fucking god jordan Luke gage's voice--i die

Also, strat looked so fucking outraged when raven took his top

And who needs the young with that one note that went on forever and how do you even hold a note that long? Also??? Sharon sexton????? god

Out of the frying pan? God guys. Damn but that was fucking fun-kinda creepy with the kidnapping talk but at this point I'm like 98% sure they're taking the piss (is that a type of song I like now? Friends make fun of guy who's sure he's in love?) And the choreography?

Two out of three, no lie I think I might be in love with zahara

Paradise by the dashboard light fucking traumatised me with those pink pants-never going to recover. But the commentator just being there, and all the backing dancers, and Sloane and falco in that fucking car. And raven pushing it off stage? And the orchestra members just kind of emerging after?

Strat you cannot just go in her room and hover over her, it's fucking creepy. Seriously dude. And raven-a duet is not the right way to respond to your crush randomly turning up while you're sleeping. Also I adore making love out of nothing at all but guys?? Really? The line about pickup lines though. The entire audience laughed at strat's on a hot summer night but bc seriously? No one in their right mind immediately has a response to that-

And then it was bat out of hell and the bike. The fucking bike.I was on a actual high and then the bike exploded and I stg I gasped out loud. Like I knew it was coming and all, but still. It fucking exploded. And the lights came up and they were still clearing his body off the stage

I'm gonna talk about the stage now, because oh my god. I've never seen a stage like it. There was an actual pool of water in the rocks, and there were stairs, and there were other little stages about which could also be screens, and whole set pieces just moved out to create different places. And they did a live feed from one stage to the screen at a couple if points, but you could see the camera man which was just incredibly cool. And have I mentioned the bikes?

Back from the interval it goes straight into in the land of the pig and there's a fucking cage, and the lost are in orange jumpsuits, and someone's being fucking electrocuted, and someone else is being drowned and fuck but that was disturbing and horrific. And there's people strung up from the ceiling hanging over the cage and zahara tells them strat is dead and my heart broke

And then it was heaven can wait and that was on screen so the main stage I'm pretty certain still had the lost on it. And damn Christina Bennington can sing. It was celestial. And the whole drawing on her arms thing? The most accurate representation of a teenage girl imo (if only bc I've been known to do that exact thing)

And then it was objects in the rear view mirror and I almost started crying because I never really listened to it before I guess? Not properly anyway because it hit me like a train.

Strat when he just woke up and he was rambling and feverish and tink was there the whole time, and I can't even fathom how heartbreaking it must be for tink, to love so much and for it to never be enough. Like I genuinely can't blame him for wanting raven gone-shes taken his best friend and almost got him killed and he still loves her.

And for crying out loud will haunt me forever. It was so desperate and there was so much longing and I felt it in my bones.

So you took the words out of my mouth with the lost realising strat's alive, and the return of his wolf line, and the wedding, and the tossing of the bouquet and I just loved the whole sequence so much

I'm honestly glad tink interrupted strat and raven before things got too heated bc honestly there's only so far you can go on stage, but then of course we had tink suddenly speaking up, and I'm not allowed to love, and you suddenly understand so much more about him. Like he was frozen younger right, and so he can never feel equal really, and he doesn't let himself show any emotion (the lost do show emotion so I think this is tink trying to force himself to appear older but I could be wrong).

What part of my body hurts the most also broke me bc its falco just realising everything he's lost (is he holding a photo album?) And I think for a moment he thinks sloane's come back, and then she leaves all over again, and he's lost everything and I just-----

And then you've got tink come to make a deal, and you can kind of see how young he really is, and how in many ways he's very naive.

Can we talk about dead ringer for love? That song-god that song is something else. And it's all so fucking jubilant and as an audience, you know something they don't, bc you know it's all about to go to shit. And then of course falco arrives and tells everyone what tink's done, everything happens at once and then tink's been shot and everything stops.

And strat makes raven leave, because of course he does, because tinks lying on the floor with a gunshot would and her father fired the gun.

I think it's important here that strat uses the word soulmate, because we only really see that word in a romantic sense, but here it means something so much deeper, and I'm crying again because of course I am. And rock and roll dreams come through, the song that we know was their song and

And then we're looking at falco and raven, and you can see just how intensely she blames him, and for once he doesn't know what to do, and despite all his efforts he's still do very alone.

Six months later. Ravens pretty obviously still broken, and the strat comes in, creeping though her window and he speaks and I think she thinks she's dreaming (it kinda mirrors for crying out loud I guess, in that she becomes coherent when she realises he's real, idk). And it's all coming back to me now is a song I adore, and strat actually kneels in front of her which seems pretty damn symbolic, and they still aren't toughing. I don't think they actually touched until flavour came in and raven had to stop strat climbing out of the window again, and then it was Sloane's verse and there were many many tender embraces which made me very happy.

I'd do anything love always drags a bit just the song (it's 10 minutes long and I have a short attention span) but I didn't find it dragged at all on stage. There was a big laugh before the song at raven's "what about when I'm 38, or 48, or *horror* 49" and a pause during the song after screwing around but then strat replied and all was right in the world. There was a heart which was on fire over the stage

Bat out of hell was the song for bows, and then it was over and I stg my legs were shaking during the ovation

Anyway it was wonderful, and I'm in love, and I'm sorry this is so long but I had to write it all down

#booh #bat the musical #bat out of hell musical #bat out of hell #jordan luke gage #christina bennington #rob fowler #sharon sexton #danielle steers #i love #i adore #i die #mogsy talks #mogsy raves more like

[gospelhq]

i know this is a lot but mw muse stereotypes and fcs you'd think fit? preferably female

sorry for the wait – i’ve put them under the cut for you !

badass, doesn’t take shit from anyone, could probably kick your ass

jeon soyeon, park jeonghwa, kendra bailey, kim hyuna, duckie thot, ahn heeyeon, alyxxndra

quiet, kind, always has their nose in a book

wong kahei, minnie yontararak, hyulari, zahara davis, chonnasorn sajakul, bae suzy

egotistical, thinks they’re too good to be touched by the sisters, self-entitled

jessica vu, isabella peschardt, cindy kimberly, seo soojin

excitable, very upbeat and enthusiastic, probably into musical theater or sports

song yuqi, kim dahyun, park jiwon, ro.junghwa

industrial design student, really into tinkering with objects and creating toys and little machines

zahara davis, park jiwon, mina myoui, kim dahyun, lee sunmi, kkmmmkk

socialite, shops in the streets of rome and champs-élysées in paris, raised by nannies all her life and doesn’t quite know social cues

cindy kimberly, bbogggooo, bella hadid, jessica vu, kwon eunbi, theylovetheafro, yoventura

big karate kid fan, well versed in martial arts, has her own health and fitness instagram, sponsored by pocari sweat and eats acai bowls every week

mina myoui, park jihyo, kendra bailey, hyulari, justine biticon, hyemmm1, grace___u

mystery and true crime junkie, loves movies and shows like murder on the orient express and the ted bundy tapes, resident nancy drew

tiffany young, minnie yontararak, yoo jeongyeon, ahn heeyeon, bbyambi, yoou.ch

#supportqirls #twitter rp #appless rp #oc rp #mw.

[river-oceanus]

The Roshans: The Devil, The High Priestess in Reverse, The Moon in Reverse. Do I get two sets of answers? :P

You sure do! As before, Kareem is Roshan Kareem Al Kadan, the djinn half, and Nejem is Roshan Nejem al-Ha’im, the human half.

The Devil: Does your character ever neglect theirwild side?

Kareem: We’re in more or less a state of permanent crisis right now. It would be utterly irresponsible to overlook moments of joy and happiness when we get the chance to find it. But it is equally important to ensure moderation, so we’re always ready to deal with emergencies as they arise.

Nejem: Right, but there are definitely moments where you can be pretty sure nothing major is going to happen in the next few hours. That’s when you break out the Good Stuff and the Deck and start doing ill-advised readings for the children of–uh, nobody important I’m sure. And then maybe end up in bed with one? Look, I don’t really remember, I was pretty drunk and this was a while ago.

The High Priestess in Reverse: When has yourcharacter felt betrayed emotionally?

Kareem: Honestly? Nejem asking me to swear that oath that stops me from treating humans as inferior simply because I’m a djinn. I don’t feel it was entirely necessary and I’m actually a little upset that they did it. Especially the part where they stipulated that breaking it would kill both of us. I just feel a little hurt about the whole thing, really.

Nejem: … yeah, maybe that wasn’t such a nice thing to do. But you know why I did it. After that shit you pulled wit–anyway, back to the question. The worst moment was either discovering that I was only introduced to Zahara as part of a political ploy on my father’s part–Yes, we ended up being friends, but that was what my father wanted and, well, it made me realize that I was pretty much just a pawn to him. Or it was realising that my parents didn’t actually love each other the way people do in the stories. They were both using each other for their own ends, and if that hasn’t informed the way I live my life, I don’t know what has.

The Moon in Reverse: When does your character mistrust their feelings or intuition?

Nejem: Did we already do this one? Oh well, it’s an interesting question!

Kareem: All the time. Feelings and intuition are often illogical and based on incomplete information. They must be interrogated and understood before they are acted on, and discarded if they are incorrect.Nejem: And that, brother, is why you’re awful at adapting under pressure. Sometimes you have to trust your feelings and instincts. If you have the time for introspection, sure, figure out if they’re trustworthy or not. But if you don’t, that feeling could just save our life.BONUS MIRROR IMAGE ROUND! MIRRORS ARE FUN FOR EVERYONE!The Devil in Reverse: When has your charactersuffered from refusing to break off an unhealthy relationship?

Kareem: I don’t think we’ve ever suffered this problem? Up until recently, we never really stuck around in once place long enough for any relationship to get to a problematic point.

Nejem: Unless you count our own.

Kareem: Yeah I guess we can be pretty messed up sometimes. But I think that’s just part of being siblings. Especially as close as we are. But suffered? Not really.

The High Priestess: When has trusting theirinstincts paid off for your character? 

Kareem: Nejem, you want to field this one? I’ve made my stance on trusting feelings and instincts pretty clear, I think.

Nejem: Well there was that time we managed to talk our way out of a mugging because I gambled on that feeling I got that they were just greedy and desperate enough to believe us about that hidden treasure. Stuff like that happens all the time, but Kareem still thinks going with our gut is a bad plan.

The Moon: When has your character’s path beenunclear?

Nejem: The stars are telling me that people already know the answer to this, but we didn’t explain it in our own words, so we’re doing it again.

Kareem: I’m a djinn. One day, I will return home and take over the family and get married and continue the lineage. I probably already have a spouse or two lined up for me when I get back, knowing father. My path has always been very clear to me--though, it is predicated on there actually being a home to return to. That problem, I am less certain how to deal with. I trust that we will find a way.

Nejem: Conversely, my path has never been clear, which I why I’ve taken so many. I’m not going to be a demidjinn forever--one day, I will just be a regular human. What happens after that, nobody knows. Me least of all. I certainly won’t be useful to my father anymore. Will I stick around and become Kareem’s vizier? Maybe, but the call of the road is strong. A wandering priest of Hastur, maybe--if we manage to restore him.

#ask meme #exile #roshan

[decantae]

Ghoul and boogieman ;D

👺GHOUL: ‘Tell us about your very first piece of writing (atleast as far as you can remember).

Since I also got asked boogieman and answered it in a separate response, here’s a very long-winded and rambling answer for this one. Oh Lord. I maybe didn’t read all the possibilitiesbefore I reblogged this particular game. Okay. Here we go:

So, your boy here’s first experience with writing usedto be with the stories on the Sims 2 Exchange – the typical teen high schoolpregnancy dramas, and so on – and while I did make a few attempts at those, themost meaningful (and long-lasting) idea I had ended up continuing on until Iwas in high school, and becoming an original project. If I had to guess, Ithink I started writing this stuff around 2007 and it lasted about four years,with 2009 being the peak.

By the way, I still have my old notebooks from 2009.

So, the story was a dystopia where an entire civilisationof magic-users from another underground(?) realm(?) rose up/invaded and tookover the world, turning those who didn’t have magic into second-class citizens,and imprisoning those who fought back in brutal isolation units. It followed agroup of teenage non-magical rebels who wanted to restart the rebellion andtake the fight back to the [Insert Dark Villain Here]. I think her name was Zahara,but I remember very little about the big bad other than that she eventuallyevolved into having super sexual tension with my protagonist.

The main character AzuraYsondre (nine year old me hit the crack-pipe before naming characters) andher younger brother, Forrest, start up their group of cool folks. I wantedromance, but I couldn’t make-up my mind on who the love interest would be, soit’s really hilarious looking back to see how it changed over four years. Atdifferent points, the end-game was with the angsty, eventually one-armedmechanic boy, Quinn; said mechanic boy’s chad brother, Eliott; the radicalhot-headed fight boy, Leo; the manic pixie dream girl best friend, Bree; themotherly friend who ends up dying because ‘kill all your lesbians’ trope wasn’tsomething that I knew about, Kaitlyn…I had a lot of queer shit in hindsight. Ithink this was before I knew I was a big ol’ bisexual, too. Anyway, the lastthing I ever wrote for it was when I wanted it to be a love-triangle, but itended up as an OT3.

There was cool magic and shit though! And torture! ‘Cuseven back then, I loved angst! And urban fantasy magic dystopias with lots ofgay characters—oh fuck, nothing’s changed, has it?

And there’s my shame.

Thanksfor asking, @pens-swords-stuff. I think. (^:

#writeblr #tag game #ask me #my old writing