Open starter -

After finally finishing the paperwork stacked on their desk Kris had heaved a sigh, leaning their elbows forward on the desk and switching on their laptop. After checking their messages ectetera they went to switch the thing off, when an add popped up from the browser they where about to close.

Glancing up they didn’t even have time to process what the add was for, eyes widening instead at the brightly flashing, neon background of the picture. Before they could even really do anything their eyes drooped, vision blurring, and they smelled something strange, something they recognized, and they knew what was happening almost immediately. Turning their head they began to speak, before consciousness left them completely, their body dropping.

" Achille — ” Their voice slurred, and their head smacked against their keyboard, hard, causing a small gash on their forehead before their body slipped out of the seat and onto the floor with a profound thud. The pokemon they’d been calling rushed over almost immediately from his resting place on the rug beside Tikva and Dizzy, the other two following closely behind.

Kris lay there, eyes rolling back in their head, limbs convulsing and twitching violently. Quickly the Houndoom knew that there wasn’t anything he could do but get help, and as Dizzy pawed at Kris’ back and Tikva sniffed their face with concern he moved over to the door. Pushing it open and dashing out of their office and down the hall. He spotted someone quickly and let out a piercing Howl as he skidded to a stop at their feet, tugging some at their pant leg towards the room he had run from.

          Awoken by a goddamn trumpet.

               This was a dance camp, not a
                 fucking bootcamp. Dean was
                 beginning to question why he’d
                 come, but after dressing and 
                 going to the mess hall—he knew
                 exactly why.

                    It was all about the kids. Kids full
                      of passion and love for dance. 
                      They made his heart warm. Even 
                      the ornery ones who only came
                      because their parents made them.

                         Breakfast passed by swiftly. First day
                           of camp for himself, but everyone 
                           else seemed to know what they were
                           doing. Probably since he was the only
                           new one, other than the newest camp
                           members. He was the only new 
                           instructor; hired in place of the old
                           ballet instructor. The camp just happened
                           to get a swing instructor in the deal as well.

                              He looked on as the first lesson’s bell
                                rang out. The expression on his face
                                read 'lost and confused,' and he was
                                trying to find someone to help him out,
                                but everyone had already rushed to 
                                their teachers. His own lessons weren’t
                                until later, but it would be nice to know
                                where to go.


                                   He muttered, glancing around awkwardly
                                      before heading to the mess hall’s exit.

                              Dean hoped he’d run into someone
                                 with a little more know-how.

An unexpected encounter || @ersatzambassador


The long blade of the katana sword cut the air with a hissing noise, swinging from side to side as if to hit invisible enemies. Its wielder, a tall man, looked completely focused on his own movements: he held the weapon with confidence, as if he had always been used to feeling the weight of the sword in his hand, and moved his feet on the ground in a precise and elegant dance to follow the swings. Despite his young face, his hair was white-silver. It was kept short and combed backwards, and some strands had escaped and fell on his forehead because of the quick actions. He was wearing comfortable clothes, thick gloves and not far from where he was standing it was possible to see a black coat delicately folded and placed on the ground. 

Vergil had taken the habit of practicing with his sword Yamato outside because he liked to feel fresh air on his skin, and also because he preferred the light of the sun to the one of lamps or candles. He had chosen a wide sweep of low grass not far from the outskirts of the city, where almost no one was to be seen. But on that day, it looked like he was going to have a watching public - even if it took him a moment to realize that a person was standing not far from him, watching his attacks and feints to invisible targets. The man’s lips bent in a friendly smile, even if he was slightly annoyed by the sudden interruption. “Hello there, I hope I did not scare you”, he said to the person who was looking at him. 

Beauty and the Beast AU


◤It had been a hundred years since he had escaped his personal hell. His life as a slave had ended 100 years ago. The duras vowed never to go back or be a slave to anyone again. Humans were still a foreign concept to him. They were too different. He was called a ‘demon’ feared and hunted by the humans. He wasn’t ready to hide himself among them. So he decided to live alone in a ‘haunted’ castle he had taken over. Rumors about him had spread through the land, but since he never actually went outside, he was never hunted. They considered him just a wives tail. Since he stayed in that castle for a 100 years alone, his bitterness and darkness only grew. He had Asher, his cat-like familiar, who guarded the castle, but he still felt alone. Why did he escape death for this? This human would could never be his home. What a fool he had been.

That was until he felt power surrounding him and he was taken from his home, summoned by a human necromancer. Luckily for him the human wasn’t powerful enough to control him. Apparently he was the wizard to some king at war and they were about to lose. He was going to tell them to fuck off, when he saw her. The princess. His lonely heart had a moment of weakness. He made a deal. He would destroy their enemies and let them win their war in exchange the necromancer would cancel their contract and he would be given the princess.

It had been a long time since he had killed. It felt like a nice release to get out all his hatred. He used his powers and weapons, to turn the green earth red. The ground was a river of blood as he tore through the humans like paper. He cut off the king’s head with his claws, and carried it back as proof. He hadn’t felt so good in years. Letting his nature out was like therapy. His black wings stretched wide as he flew over the human world. Just to make an entracne, he crashes through the window, letting the blood that covered his body fall down on the humans below. He stretches, his muscles felt nice. To bad Asher missed out. He was still guarding the castle. The duras threw the king the other kings head, "My part of the deal is done. They are all dead."

          It was a terrible day.

               He was having a horrible time.

                    The molting process was starting,
                       thanks to the season change, and
                       Alfie wasn’t having any of it. He ached,
                       itched, and wanted desperately to
                       curl up and sleep until it all stopped.

                         Which unfortunately wasn’t an option.

                              Without a word, he chose to simply
                                 give up and lay down. Plopping down
                                 on the first couch he found, the angel
                                 curled up and let his wings splay out
                                 across the furniture. The white feathers
                                 that spanned his limbs were disheveled
                                 and in fairly poor condition. Especially
                                 those out of his reach.

                          Samandriel groaned and wished
                            for something to soothe him.

          He truly hadn’t expected such
            a thing from Fienelef, but on
            second thought, he realized
            it should come as no surprise.

               After a long day of practice and
                 study, he’d returned to his room
                 to change into comfortable
                 clothes before padding off to
                 Fi’s. His hair was down and a
                 total mess. A look he’d come
                 to accept after such hard work.

                    The routine was so normal for him,
                      in fact, that when he opened her
                      door he nearly thought it the
                      wrong room. Furs and blankets
                      everywhere, chairs pushed to 
                      hold them, cushions in every 
                      corner; it was so unlike Fi.

                         Solomon nearly retraced his steps,
                           but instead laughed as a fluffy
                           head of curly hair stuck out from
                           the depths of the tents.

                    "Well good afternoon, rose."

Disco && Office Blues; Closed RP w/ Saint of Hunters

Of all the things he could be doing, sitting in a small ass cubicle doing endless paperwork was not at the top of Jean’s list. Not to mention he could hear obnoxious music from the other side of the half wall that always seemed to be playing, no matter how many times his ‘neighbor’ had been told to turn it down. 

"Jeager. You’re going to be bitched at again." Jean called out, rubbing his eyes tiredly as he turned away from the swirling words on paper to glance over the small wall. It wasn’t like he cared if Eren was going to be reprimanded for something, it kind of entertained him in all honesty. He just wanted the music off. "You have shit taste in music."