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orangegreet · 3 years ago

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No Minor Miracles | Chapter 10

In the End, In the Beginning

In which we get a jail break and some deaths and some light and some life and maybe the end of the world.

The shrieking cries of the volcra overhead melted into the drumming of hooves across the earth.

All of it, loud and incessant and completely cancelled out by the pulse of blood pounding in his head. The circling thoughts that spurred him forward.

He is going to kill me in the morning. She had said.

Aleksander had never seen her look frail. Not in his memory.

The Grisha slaver bar that kept her powerless, kept the wrath of her Sun at bay, flashed through his mind again.

Fucking cowards. The Darkling pushed his horse harder. Faster.

The Shadows of the Fold reached for him as he passed just as worshippers extended hands of blessing for their Saint.

Behind him, Ivan and Fedyor urged their horses forward, almost falling out of the dome of Light he held overhead.

It had been easy this time—effortless really, to call the Light up from within himself. As if Alina herself had searched through his cupboards and produced it for him with a gentle smile.

Alina. His Alina. His person.

Held captive by a megalomaniac. A fucking degenerate otkazat’sya scum who would sacrifice every Grisha life in Ravka to gain a fraction of power.

Zlatan would soon learn true power. Would see and know it intimately as the force of his Darkness crushed Zlatan’s bones from the inside.

The horses were huffing but none of them faltered their gait. Aleksander was grateful. Fedyor had chosen well.

His Heartrenders had not questioned him when they learned Alina was in trouble and he would be going across the Fold to get her. Feydor left immediately to prepare the horses and Ivan, after a long look at his General, proceeded to delegate duties to the next in command.

It had not slipped Aleksander’s notice that Ivan would elect to follow his General into the Fold deferring his right to become the acting General of the Second Army. As was his rightful succession.

Ivan had scowled for the duration of the preparations which effectively relieved Aleksander of the urge to thank him.

The Darkling lowered his brow, narrowing his eyes as they neared what must be the middle of the Fold. A white stone building was crumbling on his right and the mirroring of events was painful to recognize—the way history often did repeat itself.

He had lived long enough to see that the adage was true.

A woman he loved, killed for fear of what she was, for fear of Aleksander himself, by a power-hungry individual trying to stamp out any threats to his reign.

Only now it felt like a chance to do it all again. To change it all; to rescue and to fix instead of fail and destroy.

It would be different this time. This was Alina. She, a Sun Summoner, an immortal like him and a woman who was stronger and more powerful than anyone could imagine.

A woman whom he had crushed mercilessly just a few weeks before.

Not for the first time since he had met Alina did Aleksander curse his own pride.

This might not have happened had he been able to come to terms with everything she had done and just forgiven her in that fucking cell. Forgiven her on the journey through the Fold.

Not left her alone in a field. Not buried her under the weight of his disappointment.

Had he not learned this lesson from years of experiencing the same treatment from Baghra? Another immortal who would use her years and her influence to leverage pain and guilt over him—shame him into doing as she wished? Into feeling the weight of her expectations with an unyielding rigidity?

Could he not have at least given her something to hold onto—something that said, I am angry and I am hurt but I am yours all the same?

No, instead he had crushed Alina and sent her back into the arms of a Grisha-loathing Secessionist to play spy. Fucked with her head and her heart and expected her to recover fine.

Expected her to be stoic in her duties and not slip up. As if he had been able to keep his head after their every encounter. He was a fucking fool.

They were so alike, he and Alina. In hindsight, her reasoning and her motives and decisions all seemed remarkably easy to understand.

He had been bitter at her for shutting him out. Hurt at her apparent lack of trust that she would not confide in him. It was fair that he should feel that way and yet, would he not have done the same?

Had their years been reversed, had it been Aleksander who was so fresh and new to the world, would he not have hungered and grasped for his own independence?

Alina did not want to need him anymore than he wanted to need her. He could not fault her for her actions—not for long anyway.

When he removed himself from the torturous back and forth they had both endured and inflicted on each other the last several years, Aleksander could not deny the plain truth before him: Alina was his match in every sense of the word.

Alina was and would always be the only one who could meet the depth of his power and counter it. Descend into the cavernous pain he carried and draw him out of it. Climb to the heights of his passion and somehow drive him higher.

It might be cosmic or ancient or fated by the Saints but even outside of all that, Aleksander simply wanted her. Alina. His Alina. Just as she was.

Aleksander wanted her very soul for himself and he would tie their Light and Dark together more completely than any paltry tether if given the chance again.

He is going to kill me in the morning.

He pushed his horse forward.

The city was eery in it’s quiet.

Aleksander shrouded their party of three in shadow as they trotted through the streets. His eyes were sharp but half of his focus was on the pull of the tether, guiding them closer to Alina.

He had zero intention of visiting her friends, despite her requests. Getting to her himself was far more important. Still, he slowed as they were nearing the place he knew they had held him weeks before.

“I fucking knew it! You will pay, Darkling.” A voice shouted from his left and he raised a fine blade of darkness only to feel that clenching in his chest once more. That blood thickening, heart seizing clutch of a Heartrender.

Aleksander growled at the spasm and the screaming Heartrender emerged from an alley. Ivan immediately used the same technique against her and Aleksander was free from the thrall once more. Fedyor sat on his own horse, working to restore his General.

“Stupid girl! He did not do this.” Baghra said, joining the fray from her hiding spot. “Stop. All of you!” She demanded, grabbing the Heartrender from the ground where she had crumpled under Ivan’s will.

The Darkling snarled at them both as he darkened the street with his irritation and shadows sloughed off of him in billowing sheets.

“Good. You’re making this quite easy then.” He said through clenched teeth.

He gripped his reins and cricked his neck to keep from killing both of them and barked out Alina’s message, “Alina is being held captive by Zlatan. She said he knows she is the Sun Summoner and asked me to warn you.”

Aleksander turned his gaze on his mother, growling the words at her, “Your Sun Summoner held captive by the man you traded her to in the first place.”

He glared at her. His thoughts screaming at her. Was this a better life for her, mother? Do you believe I would have done worse to her—worse to the world than terror Zlatan intends to unleash now?

He wanted to ask it. To make her hurt. To make her regret. There wasn’t time.

The reins were tight in his hands and he could not help the added insult he bit off as he left. “Do what you will with that news, you glorified Grisha slavers.”

Picking up his reins, he kicked his horse back into motion and continued through the streets.

“Darkling! Stop!” They called after him. Aleksander did not heed them. Alina called to him in the night and he would not give them another second of wasted time.

“Follow him then, you fools! He knows where she is!” Baghra’s voice echoed up the street. The sound of hooves followed and he knew they would not be far behind.

Aleksander tracked Alina all the way to a mansion on the wealthy end of the capital.

Ivan and Fedyor flanked him on either side as they dismounted. His gaze flicked to the people they now had in tow.

The dark haired woman he recognized as the Heartrender who tried to knock him out again. Next to her was large man and behind them stood four others, unknown to him and irksome merely in their culpability of Alina’s engagement and enslavement.

“I assume you are here because you are loyal to Alina.” He said with a clipped edge.

The woman’s eyes narrowed at him but she nodded.

“Very well. Seeing as I don’t know how many people we can expect inside, it would be foolish not to work together.”

They looked uneasy and the Darkling growled at them, his barely controlled rage spewing from his hands as his shadows blanketed around their ankles, “In case you are missing something, Alina is to be executed in the morning by Zlatan. I’m certain she is inside that home at this very moment and I will not waste time fighting the Grisha who put her there.”

He twitched his fingers and his shadows tightened around their calves. The Darkling watched with a sick grin on his face as they lurched in place.

“We are not following you, Darkling. We will get her out ourselves.” The woman said, pulling her leg free.

“I don’t think you will.” His voice was quiet and dangerous now. Ivan and Fedyor stood to behind him, preparing for a fight. “It was you who gave her to Zlatan in the first place. You’re the reason she is in there now.”

A few of the members shifted guiltily and the Darkling barked at them again, “How long since she lost contact with you?”

A few of them jumped but the Heartrender simply glared at him.

“A little over a week.” The man beside her said.

Aleksander growled at them, condemning them once more. “Reckless. Sloppy pieces of shit.”

“We will fight alongside you, Darkling. Tonight we will.” The man said. The woman glared at the ground but nodded.

Aleksander scrutinized them, loosening his shadows and forcing himself to turn away from them. “Alina is being held underground. Kill anyone who gets in your way but hear this—Zlatan is mine.”

Zlatan was not home.

Or, at least, those were the last words the guard could squeeze out of his throat before the Darkling snapped his neck.

It felt different to kill with his hands. Different wrap his fingers around a throat and twist. Different to physically touch the skin of someone as their life force abandoned their body. Still, it was the only thing that satisfied on this night.

The place had been crawling with First Army soldiers. West Ravkan soldiers, as they preferred to be called. He and his Heartrenders and his borrowed Grisha army had swarmed the home like a plague and he winded his way toward the back of the house, looking for access to the basement.

Underground. He knew she was underground.

“General!” Ivan called from the next room over. Aleksander entered the small parlor where Ivan was unceremoniously shifting a corpse across the floor and lifting the rug from the edge of the room.

A hatch.

The Darkling lifted it and grasped a lantern from the wall.

“Find Fedyor.” He said to Ivan as he began to descend the stairs into the floor, “I will get Alina and we will set out for the Fold again.”

Ivan hesitated by the door.

“Fedyor, Ivan. Find him first. Then we will go together.” Ivan nodded and left.

When he found her, she was asleep.

Beautiful, even with dark circles under her eyes and a pallor to her skin. Both of which had little to do with captivity or starvation and everything to do with the fact that she was an extremely powerful Grisha forced to suppress her power.

Aleksander gingerly lifted the slaver bar, extending her arms out in front of her and laying the bar on the ground.

He conjured the Cut and sliced through one end, as close as he dared cut near her wrist. He took a breath and severed the other side.

Aleksander tucked his arms beneath hers and pulled her into his lap, her head lolling back against his shoulder as his hands met around her stomach.

“Alina.” He said in her ear. A kiss to her cheek. Another to her hair.

“Wake up, solnyshka. You are freed.” Alina stirred in his arms and, with little ceremony, he brought her hands together, forcing her to conjure the tiniest amount of Light. Hoping to feed her a little before they had to move again.

The chamber around them was forced into relief, putting the little gas lantern to shame.

Her eyes fluttered and Alina sighed, sinking into him. Her back pressed into his chest. “You’re here.”

Her forehead fell against his jaw and he could not help the way he held her face there, whispering a silent prayer of gratitude to the Saints for this moment. For her voice and her Light and her life. That she was not gone from him.

When his prayer was done he whispered more words to her. “I’m sorry, Alina. I am so sorry, my love, my Star.”

Her hand caressed his jaw and he nuzzled her in return. Her silence now assuredly attributed to her fatigue as opposed to malice for him. “Come along, we will help get you out.”

And then, to his added relief, “General!” Ivan and Fedyor emerged. Fedyor, clutching his side but otherwise smiling at the sight of Alina and her Light and the way she was sitting up in the arms of the General.

“If the Sun Summoner is able, we must move. They are calling in others now. We cannot face many more soldiers tonight.” Ivan advised.

Aleksander nodded, pushing from his legs into standing and bringing Alina with him.

Her thin, white shift snagged against the buckles of his kefta and with a sharp pang he remembered how she had clasped them together herself in the dacha.

How she had dressed him in his black kefta and his traveling cloak and her hands had smoothed the core cloth and then she had begged him to run away with her.

“Ivan. Come hold her up for a moment.”

Aleksander removed his kefta and threaded her arms through the sleeves. His fingers worked quickly on the clasps and when she was covered in the warm black shield, the only protection he could give to her right now, he lifted her into his arms.

The other Grisha, her ‘friends’ were waiting by the exit. At the sight of her, it looked as if they would reach for her. Expect him to turn her over to them.

The Darkling practically hissed at them, holding her away from them, but it was Ivan who was done with it all.

“Out. Everyone. More are coming. Get to the horses and disperse. They cannot chase us all.”

Everyone dispersed, the woman with a lingering glance at Alina. The three men hurried to their horses and the other Grisha to theirs, quick and silent in their movements.

They had just mounted, the General adjusting his posture in the saddle as Ivan lifted Alina into his arms, when the unmistakeable sound of a dozen horses echoed through the streets.

The General looked at Fedyor, hunched on his horse and waiting for Ivan to join him—he would need assistance on horseback with his injury. Ivan and the General locked eyes.

“Go. Get a head start. We can handle them.” Ivan said.

Aleksander almost protested and then Ivan had slapped his horse on the haunches with a firm hit and Alina jolted in his arms as his horse took off down the city streets.

The pursuit was something of a blur.

The West Ravkan soldiers followed them through the streets, tracking them until they reached the edges of town. Aleksander and Alina were saved more than once by the help of a Tidemaker or Squaller who was hidden in plain sight and ready to impede the pursuing enemy.

He was glad for it as he felt helpless to do much else at the moment. Alina seemed so precarious in his arms and he wondered if they had not done more to her in captivity than prevent her from using her Light.

Wondered if they had performed experiments on her. Bled her and drained her. She should not be so frail from a week of captivity. Not his Sun.

Still, they were nearing the Fold now and Aleksander would need his hands to gather Light if they were going to cross.

“Alina, please. If you can, sit up and lean against me. I need your help to get through the Fold.” Alina stirred, her eyes flickering again.

“‘M sorry.” Feebly, she brushed her hands against each other and sighed as she illuminated everything around them. Like the burst of a dawning Light she lit up their location and Aleksander panicked.

“No! Alina! Stop!”

She did not know. Could not know what she had done. Horses gathering in force sounded behind them, locked on their location now and Aleksander pushed his own horse hard toward the safety of his creation.

The blight he left on the earth. The thing which he meant to protect him and all Grisha would now have to protect him and his Sun.

History would not repeat itself. He would not let her die tonight.

“The Sun Summoner!” He heard the shouting echo across the field even as they neared the black curtain. True dawn was breaking on the horizon. The reddish glow mixing with her bright white.

Aleksander tucked Alina further into his chest, holding her with the frame of his arms and she was finally waking up.

“Sasha. Where are we going?” Her eyes opened, the black Shadow Fold billowing across their vision.

“Oh good. I do like it in there.” She said, absently, “It’s like being covered in you. So familiar. Always so familiar. Even before I ever met you, going into it was like being home.”

Alina sounded delirious now and Aleksander wanted to cry. He swallowed it down and answered her.

“Yes. We are going into the Fold now. I might need your help to Light it—I don’t have my hands free.”

Alina nodded, squeezing his thigh in response and Aleksander heard another set of hooves drawing closer.

“Now Alina!”

Alina conjured her Light and the dome put his to shame. It was broad and beautiful and white, splitting the curtain of the Fold as they entered.

The Light was too big. Too bright. Others had joined them under the dome.

Aleksander urged the horse faster but he knew it was long tired from their long evening.

“Alina, please, pull your Light in just a little.” He urged.

It was useless. Alina’s hands were no longer touching and her Light shone from her anyway. Persistent. Bright.

Her consciousness was wavering and the Light brightened and he could not tell if he was adding to it or not.

“Sun Summoner! Halt!”

Gunfire. His horse faltered. Aleksander looked around frantically but realized it was only a graze to the flank. His horse was good, strong, used to battle and gunfire. It carried on.

Darkling! I know you’re in there! The voices from the past echoed in his head and he knew they were not there and history would not be repeated on this night.

Aleksander could not bring his hands together though. He was terrified Alina would fall and their horse would slow down and all would be lost again.

They neared the center of the Fold. He could feel the pull of the creation point. It called to him. More than it ever had before. A persistent tug on his tether. The same tug he felt when Alina called to him.

Perhaps something in the Making at the Heart of the World was rooted into the Fold as well. Perhaps creation simply echoed from this very spot.

The beginning of time, the creation of the earth, the creation of the Fold.

Perhaps it all centered here in this magnetic pull and out of it’s gravity, Alina and Aleksander were born. Shadow and Light. Magnetic poles arrived to stabilize an otherwise wavering world. Arrived to hold everything and everyone in balance.

More gunfire. “You are still my betrothed, Sun Summoner!” Zlatan was with them, taunting them.

Here’s the little witch who’s been stitching him back together. Aleksander shook his head, willing the words away.

Adrenaline was spiking and Aleksander looked helplessly up at the white Light overhead and brought his hands together to conjure the shadows. He tried to direct them and felt Alina slip a few inches in his grasp, her feet lolling dangerously around the front legs of their horse. A few more inches and she would impede his gait. Would pull them all down.

“Fuck.” He cursed, anxiety mixing into his fear as he clutched Alina by the stomach and pulled her back up.

“The Black General! Did you see the shadows. That’s the General of the Second Army!”

“Are you intending to kidnap my fiancée, General?!” Zlatan shouted behind them.

Stand down, Grisha! The white stone building illuminated beneath the dome as it had not been illuminated in centuries. So bright he could not look at it directly.

Darkling! I know you’re in there!

More gunfire and this time a bullet found his back. He lurched and clutched Alina to him, willing her to hold on in case he lost his grip. Willing her to be hidden completely from their range. Shield her with himself.

The horse was slowing. The graze from before was bleeding profusely now. More than a graze evidently. Blood was spilling heavy down the buckles of the saddle.

“Sasha?” Alina questioned. His hands brushed over the black kefta he had covered her in, bulletproof and safe.

History would not repeat itself.

Another shot. Their horse was trotting and the enemy was upon them, just yards away as the beast came to a stop. As it kneeled.

He and Alina rolled to the side, hidden behind the safety of their horse. The horse who was giving it’s life for them.

Aleksander was growing cold. Shock. Bullets in his back. Bullets in his side.

He looked at her. His Light. His love. Bullet now lodged in his stomach. That was the one that was killing him.

He peaked over the top of the horse. His eyes caught on the anxious West Ravkan General who kept one eye on the wavering Light overhead. One last act. Aleksander could do this for his love. One last act to show her no one would dare hurt her on his watch.

He lifted himself to kneel. His arms sweeping out from his sides and gathered the lingering Shadow—it was waiting—ready to do his bidding. One last dark deed. The thin blade was formed so quickly. Aleksander released it.

The surge of victory at watching the head and shoulders of Zlatan detach from his body filled his chest and warmed him even as he watched Zlatan’s soldiers stagger their horses away from the mess in horror. Those men did not matter.

She was safe. He had done what he should. History would not repeat itself on this night. Aleksander was so tired. He could not reform the Cut if he tried.

“Aleksander?”

Alina looked more awake. He was relieved. Finally, she was bouncing back. Too late for him but early enough for herself. To save herself. Everything would be okay for her. That was what he wanted.

A better world for her. She would lead it.

“Alina?” She looked at him and he realized he had seen this look before. Only, he didn’t remember until now.

“I am having the strangest sense of déjà vu.” He said.

Tears were slipping out of her eyes and he was watching her and he felt certain now that he had seen this all before. A snowy battlefield, flecked with blood.

“What are you doing?” She asked. She tried to pull his face up to hers. A Fjerdan wolf dead beside him and Alina yelling at him on the other.

“What are you doing? Stop. No. You said—not again. Please.” Aleksander watched her eyes close and her face was pinched in pain and it hurt to see her hurt. She had called him weak, weak for leaving her. For dying.

“Don’t cry, solnyshka. You will be safe and that is what matters. You will make the world safe for all of our people.” His hand touched her cheek.

Zlatan’s men had not come close and he could only assume it was for fear that she would rescind the Light or fear he would send another blade of shadow. His mouth tasted like bile and tinged with the metallic taste of blood.

“You have the advantage in here, Alina. The Fold is a place only you can conquer.” He smiled and it was almost whimsical in nature. “It was made from me, after all. You were made to conquer me, were you not, little Star?”

Alina hiccuped a laugh and grimaced at the pain in her weakened body.

“Don’t leave me, Sasha.” She said and he frowned at the sign of defeat in her shoulders. His own eyes filled with tears. He had done this with her before.

“I do not want to, Alinochka.” He whispered and his vision was blackening and only had a few moments to say what he wanted. “You have inspired me, Alina. Made my life good. You will inspire everyone. Do not doubt it.”

Her mouth kissed his and he saw blood on her lips when she pulled away. “Please, Sasha. I cannot go on without you.”

Their tether was sizzling and splitting in his chest, itching to burst forth.

Aleksander was dying. “I’ll find you in the after, Alina. I swear it.”

Her hands were shaking.

They trembled as she touched his face.

His features were slack, no quirked brow, no glare for her. No devious, cunning smirk.

No breathless, open smile, as if he just realized he was caught staring.

Instead she smoothed her quaking hands over his cheeks, pulling him fully into her lap.

The horse at her back took a shuddering breath. It too, was dying. Would be dead in another minute.

Zlatan’s men were there. They were still yelling. That much registered in a distant back room of her brain but then she closed the door.

Everything was muffled.

A tiny pinprick of light illuminated them now. It was small and Alina felt it dying out inside herself, growing dimmer with a smothering loss.

The men moved to stand closer than she would like, their exit from the Fold far too far away to survive on their own.

She did not look at them. They did not move toward her, their fear of the volcra kept their eyes turned up.

It was possible to pull him back. Aleksander. She could bring him back.

She had done it once. Reforged the broken tether and tied his life back to hers. They were Inevitable. One would not exist without the other—not while she was around to ensure it.

He was dying and she was suddenly reaching desperately for their tether. Their lifeline. She forced it to the surface, the fractured electric thing barely connected to their chests. A sliver of light held onto his body.

She wrapped his limp hand around the tether and covered it with her own.

Together they ventured into the abyss. Into the Making at the Heart of the World. That place that belonged to them alone.

Only—

Aleksander was just as lifeless here. His eyes were still closed and she could not feel his breathing.

Alina felt herself beginning to panic. Anxiety and panic and chemicals in her brain lighting her up with a dying surge of energy.

She poured into him all the Light she contained. Drove her beams into his chest over and over and over. Could not explain why she was doing it. It made no sense. She was no healer and maybe her Light would only drive his Shadow farther and farther away from her.

But, it could only be them. It could not be one without the other.

Where Light traveled, Shadow was compelled to follow and she will not allow him to abandon in his duty.

Not now.

Nothing was happening and as her Light surged, the abyss itself began to fade around them.

Quite suddenly, they were back into their pocket of the Fold and those insignificant West Ravkan soldiers were still surrounding them. Crowded close. Terrified that her light would blink out completely and the volcra would descend.

Alina clutched for their tether again. Nothing but the frayed end of rope was returned. Spitting and hissing electricity like a live wire.

Nothing to ground her anymore. Nothing to hold her to the earth. Nothing to balance her out.

Hemorrhaging Light filled up inside of her chest.

Aleksander was gone. She was alone.

In the beginning, Light had joined Darkness. In the end, Darkness had left the Light and all this debating she had done over whether or not to end the world and start over was so silly.

It had never been a choice. A path she could choose to take or not to take.

Alina was alone and the wrongness of it was impossible to overcome. This was not choice. This was Inevitable.

In the end, Light would shine bright enough to blind all of creation. Blind everyone and everything and nothing would be seen but Darkness. Beautiful, glorious Darkness.

In the end it was not a choice that she made.

In the ending, this was as Inevitable as they had been.

Alina stared at the soft, blank face of her love, lost to her in the here and now.

Saint Alina, Sun Summoner and Mother of the West looked up toward the sky.

She opened her mouth and let loose an unholy wail.

White hot Light burned out of her mouth in a beam that ripped through the Shadow around her and overhead. She could not stop the wave of energy anymore than she could stop her own anguished grief.

Aleksander was limp in her lap and it was finally happening. The Sun Summoner was combusting from the inside and the power of the Sun would ravage her body and rend it to shreds.

That did not matter anymore.

Nothing else mattered in this moment.

The heat surged around her and she did not even register the shrieks of Zlatan’s men or the volcra as they burned up in the light that touched them. Gone with very little fanfare in the end.

But then, the entire earth would be gone with little warning and no time to grieve. No time for regret even.

Light poured from her body and scorched the earth and expanded within the Fold farther and farther in a growing radius around her.

Her and her Shadow, alone at the center. The center of the Fold, the center of life itself.

Had he longed for Alina before he created the Fold? Had he known she could exist before he unleashed his Shadow and necessitated a Sun Summoner join him? She could not ask him in this life and so she did not want this life anymore.

At last, she was going to blink out of the world.

Shining out of it with the blinding, fiery fury of a collapsing star, imploding from the inside.

Alina was powerless to stop what had begun.

What force could possibly contain her anymore?

She was so young. She could not keep it in any longer. Never learned to control it properly. Perhaps she was never meant to.

The radius of her light had expanded to the edges of the Fold and where it was erased from the earth, more daylight rushed in and illuminated the scene.

The fire Light was hotter than any she had ever created. Maybe hotter than anything that had ever existed.

Hotter than the fire and combustion of creation itself. Hotter than the Light that burned at the Making at the Heart of the World. She should know, shouldn’t she?

It was past the point of return and the Light would surely swallow everything in its path.

It was beyond anything known. It was beyond the beginning. She would forge a new beginning, though she did not mean to do it.

It was happening now and no one could stop it.

And then—

Something was knitting itself inside her chest.

Born from the fiery core or maybe born from that solitary cool bit of Shadow that she knew lay just beneath her power. That bit of Shadow inside of her that stabilized it all.

Her chest was itching and then Shadow was swirling into her Light.

“Alina.”

His voice reached her and she prayed her thanks to the Saints that he was on the other side of all of this. He was waiting for her.

She had collapsed the world to get to him and it had worked.

Aleksander stirred in her arms, flesh untouched by the ancient power emanating from her being. They were not in the After. He was returned to her on earth. Untouched.

Untouched because Light would never be able to conquer Shadow. Not completely.

Her wailing stopped but she looked at him helpless as she continued to burn. Light beams emanated from her limbs and out of her chest and her gut and every inch of her skin.

Who could stop a star from dying?

Aleksander cupped her face. “It is going to be all right, solnyshka. I know what to do.”

His thumb stroked her cheek, soothing her.

Of course he knew what to do. He had done this very thing four centuries before. Only he had not had Alina to help him. To push back on him and his Shadow.

Aleksander closed his eyes. Shadow denser than she had ever seen—denser than the Fold itself, poured out of him.

Where her star fire was loud with the vibration of radiating energy, his dark matter was deadly silent. It slithered to the very edges of her Light’s reach and encapsulated it.

The world went dark around them. There were no volcra here. No screeches or voices. There was only they two. Shadow and Sun. Dark and Light.

A dying star, shining it’s brightest at it’s imminent collapse and the black hole born from the sheer power of the supernova.

The dark matter swirled and undulated and it was an unyielding master of the Light.

Alina watched it awe as it pulled on every ray that attempted to escape. The Dark curled around it, cooling it, taming it into submission.

Alina gasped for breath, the column of light pouring out of her was gentling at last and cooling off.

“Look at me, little one.”

Her eyes blinked with bleary tears.

“At me.” He said again, coaxing her face.

Her eyes met his steady gaze.

“Breathe with me. We will survive this.”

His voice was soft and unwavering and she burrowed into the assurance it offered.

Her Light gentled and dimmed and then faded entirely at the center of the black hole he created.

Her eyes stared into his. She gave him a small smile which he returned. Both of them captivated in the silent awe of what they created.

Alina laughed. A watery laugh as tears poured down her cheeks and he kissed them over and over.

She sighed, weariness overcoming her and Aleksander soothed her and she let her eyes close, submitting to her exhaustion.

Only then did he call the dark matter back into himself, allowing the natural light of the morning to beat down on them.

They huddled together, centered in the fresh, circular lesion at the heart of the Fold. The buildings of Novokribirsk discernible on one side of him and the army outpost in Kribirsk on the other.

He surveyed the damage, miles wide inside the fold. Wide enough for a small village.

The only casualties were easily explained away. Zlatan and his men no more than dust in the desert. Who would care for the disgraced general and his men? The monsters who would seek to kill the Sainted Sun Summoner?

No one need know how close she came to rending the world apart. No one would know this was an accident—that her powers got away from her.

He could spin this. This—an obviously intentional attempt to banish the Fold—the people would weep and bow at her feet as they were meant to do. The people would not come for her in their fear.

His hands cradled her sleeping form and he allowed himself a smile.

“You cannot escape me now, Sol Koroleva. You watch us. Together we will drag this world into a new age.”

He kissed her cheek, her answering breath somehow, miraculously cool against his skin. He pulled her head close and held her, whispering in her ear.

“When you wake, the world will have been made new.” He stroked a hand over the back of her head, her hair white and gleaming in the morning sun. “You delivered it another miracle." He laughed to himself, tears tracking into her hair from his cheeks, "My cursed, relentless little Saint. Just another miracle.”

#darklina fic #darklina fanfic #darklina #alina x aleksander #aleksander morozova #alina starkov #power dynamics #politics #the grisha trilogy #grishaverse #physics #theoretical physics #darklina server

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mrsgreenworld · 4 years ago

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It's not easy to let go of the past

A/N: So I've had this very insistent idea for a while now. I decided to speculate way ahead. Let's imagine that it goes like this: Serkan breaks up with Eda without telling her the truth. Then Eda's grandmother comes into the picture. It's revealed that her and Efe have been working together to take the holding from the Bolats. Eda learns the truth about her parents' death from Efe or maybe her grandmother. She also finds out that Serkan knows about everything. Her grandmother's revenge plans are also revealed. However, Eda convinces Efe to help her stop her grandmother. All in all, the grandma capitulates, Efe sells back the shares. The Bolats don't lose the holding. Efe helps Eda move to Italy. She leaves and gets her degree.

That's just my imagination running wild 🤣

Let's imagine everything going down like this. This fic takes place 2 years after Eda leaves.

___________________________________________

Serkan opened his eyes way before his alarm clock was supposed to go off.

He went about his morning routine. He just moved on autopilot. Like all other mornings for the last 2 years.

2 years, 2 months, 3 weeks, 3 days, about 11 hours... without her.

Time without her seemed to drag on forever. 2 years felt like 2 lifetimes.

2 lifetimes that had brought him denial - first.

When he refused to accept that she was gone for good, that she had given up on them, on him. He called her. All his calls went into voicemail. Then her number was out of service. He tried going to her house only to find it empty. Ayfer Hanım and Melek moved house. The flower shop had been sold. He wasn't able to reach any of the girls either. They had simply blocked him.

That's when anger started.

He started taking it out on everyone in the office. Then one evening he crashed everything in his house. His parents and Seyfi came running because they had heard the noise. His mother and Seyfi barely managed to stop him from attacking his father. The next day Serkan moved out. He couldn't bring himself to go to the house he owned, where he and Eda had spent that one and only night together. He just found a completely new place instead.

Then it was time for bargaining.

He tried finding her. He found out that she wasn't at the university that she had initially applied to. Instead of taking advantage of his connections Serkan decided to go to Ceren. Out of all the girls she was the easiest to find. She was from a wealthy family of lawyers after all and worked in a prominent law firm. So Serkan just boldly waltzed into Ceren's office one day. She didn't throw him out. She didn't ask him to leave. She was patient and kind enough to actually talk to him. She asked him only one question:

"Do you love her, Serkan?"

"You know I do, Ceren. I love her more than anything and anyone in this world"

"I can tell you only one thing without betraying Eda's trust: things are going really well for her now. She looks maybe not quite happy yet but at peace. So if you truly love her the way you say you do, please, just let her go. Don't try to find her. Don't go to her. Don't try to bring her back. Don't ruin what she's managed to build for herself"

After that conversation with Ceren finally came depression. He just locked himself in his house. Stopped going to work and eventually left everything at Art Life to Pırıl and Engin. He didn't care much about the holding anymore. His father was still in charge and that made Serkan care even less.

But at least something good came from the period of depression: his mother was so worried about him that she went into therapy and after a while was able to leave the house. One day Aydan Hanım and Seyfi knocked on his door. When he didn't open it they just let themselves in using a spare key. They found him sitting on the floor in the living room, staring at the photo of him and Eda on his phone. He heard the steps and then - his mother's voice. That managed to pull him from his trance. He broke down then, a year after Eda's departure. He broke down in his mother's arms under the wave of happiness for her and under the weight of sorrow and acceptance. Acceptance of the fact that it was really over and Eda wasn't coming back. He had really lost her.

After that he pulled himself back together. He managed to create a resemblance of life in this state of numb resignation and acceptance. He travelled for two months around South America. When he returned, he got back to work at Art Life. His return was a true triumph. He had never been as productive, creative and successful as he was then. He even tried to reconsile with Selin but both of them very soon agreed that they were better off as friends.

And here he was 2 years, 2 months, 3 weeks, 3 days, about 11 hours later. Making breakfast for himself and his mother. Ever since Aydan Hanım started leaving the house, it had become their daily tradition - having breakfast together at Serkan's place, just the two of them. Sometimes it was Serkan making breakfast, sometimes he and his mother cooked together. Serkan treasured this everyday ritual.

A doorbell caught his attention and he went to let his mother in. He was greeted by her radiant smile and high-pitched: "Günaydın, canım!".

"Good morning, mom" Serkan said while returning his mother's enthusiastic hug.

They went into the kitchen and finished preparing breakfast. When everything was ready, they proceeded into a small patio. The day was calm and the weather - warm, so they decided that eating outside was a good idea.

"So, how are you, dear?" his mom asked after they were done eating and were just lazily drinking their coffee.

"You ask me this question every day, mom. Nothing's changed since yesterday morning"

"Well, today is not just any other day. Remember where you're supposed to be today?"

How could he forget. It was the first big event he had to attend since he was back. A big international business conference of architects and designers from all over the world.

He gave his mother a silent nod.

"And you know who's going to be hosting this event, right?" Aydan Hanım asked carefully.

"Of course I know, mom"

"So it's not going to be a problem?"

"Why should it be a problem?"

His mother just threw him a "Really?" look.

"It's fine, mom. I am fine. I haven't seen Efe Akman for over two years and it's not like we will have to work together. He's just hosting this conference. Despite our personal history with him, he's a recognised architect and he really is good at his work"

"Still don't like him after everything he did back then. And I don't think that seeing him is a good idea. Might trigger something... Maybe I should go too? Don't want to leave you alone"

"Don't be ridiculous, mom. I don't need a babysitter. Plus you're not ready for this yet. You haven't been anywhere except my house. Going to an event like this at a place that's completely new, where there will be hundreds of strangers... No, it will only overwhelm you. And I will have to worry about you among other things"

"Yes, of course you're right, dear. Then maybe take Seyfi with you?"

"For the love of god, mom! Stop it! I told you I don't need a babysitter" with a huff of annoyance Serkan rose from the table and started collecting the dishes.

"Ok, ok... Sorry. I will keep silent. You do what you want. You know what's best for you. But will you at least let me help you clean up?"

Serkan looked at his mother's pleading expression and the corner of his mouth twitched. He silently nodded and moved into the house.

"What was it? I think I saw an almost-smile" he heard his mother say at his retreating back.

He busied himself with washing the dishes. His mother joined him and started drying the plates. They worked without saying a word for a couple of minutes.

"You will one day, you know" his mother's quiet and cautious voice broke the silence.

Serkan looked at her and raised his eyebrows in question.

"You will smile and laugh again. I promise"

"You cannot promise something like this, mom. And I... I am not sure I know how to do this anymore"

"You will learn. You can learn. It's not impossible, my dear. I also thought I would never smile again after we lost your brother. But here I am. I even managed to leave the house. If I was able to do that, you will surely smile again one day. I know your smiles and your laughter will never be the way they were around her... But... Maybe it's not bad? It's just... different? And different can be good too. It can bring happiness"

"How do I become happy without her? If I love her this much but she's not here?"

"Oh, my dear boy! It's hard, I know. But you have to try. You have to be happy for you. No matter how much you love someone else, you have to love yourself first. And it doesn't make you selfish. It doesn't mean you don't love her anymore. But you said it yourself - she's not here. Don't you think that maybe the best way to honour this love is to let go of the past and allow yourself to be happy?"

A sob tore from his throat and he nodded frantically.

"You are right... I just... I am not ready yet"

"I know, I know... There's no rush, ok? I am not saying you have to do this now. It's not easy, it takes time. Just remember that when you feel ready, I will be there for you. Always"

"I know, mom. Thank you"

Aydan Hanım pulled her son into a tight hug.

Mother and son spent another 20 minutes together and after that Aydan Bolat left, leaving her son to prepare for the conference.

When Serkan was putting on and buttoning up his dress shirt he felt ready to face Efe Akman. However, there was a small tug in his chest, right under his heart. As if he needed to brace himself for something more than meeting with his former business partner-turned-rival.

"You're being paranoid" he huffed at himself.

Once he was ready, he grabbed his car keys and his phone. He looked dashing, collected and confident when he was climbing into his car. Nothing betrayed his typical Serkan Bolat facade. Nothing but a tiny gesture of him running his thumb over a band on his right hand.

#sen çal kapımı fanfiction #sen çal kapımı fic #sck fic #sck fanfiction #edser fanfiction #sen çal kapımı #sen cal kapimi #edser #eda yıldız #serkan bolat

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gardenofkore · 4 years ago

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Florence Trevelyan Cacciola (née Florence Trevelyan Trevelyan) was born in Newcastle upon Tyne, Northumblerand, on February 7th 1852. She was the daughter and only surviving child (her older sister Edith had died in 1850 at just one year old) of Edward Spencer Trevelyan of Hallington Hall (cadet son of Sir John Trevelyan, 5th Baronet Trevelyan of Nettlecombe, Somerset, and of Wallington Hall, Northumberland), and of Catherine Ann Forster.

She was baptised in St. Andrew Church in Hartburn, Northumberland, with her family name serving also as a middle name, so that she would have been able to keep it even after married.

On August 23rd 1854 Edward Spencer Trevelyan committed suicide, leaving his wife and his two years old daughter living alone in Hallington Hall.

Over the years, Florence and her mother developed a great interest in gardening and in establishing "pleasure gardens", such as gardens open to the public. Perhaps the fact that Florence's uncle, Sir Walter Carverley Trevelyan, 6th Baronet, was a renowned naturalist and geologist, might have provided some sort of influence.

In 1877 Catherine Forster died and her daughter inherited Hallington Hall. The year after the childless Sir Walter died too. Following the wishes of the late baronet, his inheritance was surprisingly split: his title was inherited by his nephew Alfred Wilson Trevelyan (son of Alfred Wilson Trevelyan senior), while Wallington Hall was left to his cousin Charles Edward Trevelyan. Despite being senior to her cousin Alfred (Florence's father was older than Alfred's one), and a closer relative than Charles Trevelyan, Florence, as a female, was passed over in the succession of the family titles and estates. In 1879, Miss Trevelyan, already mistress of herself, set off for a two years tour across Europe and North Africa, accompanied by her cousin, Louisa Harriet Spencer (daughter of Beatrice Trevelyan and Ernest Augustus, youngest child of Spencer Perceval, the only British prime minister to have been murdered). During a stop in Alassio, the two girls visited Parco Fuor del Vento and the villa Molino di Sopra as guests of General William Montagu Scott McMurdo, owner and designer of the park. Florence could thus admire the terraced hill, planted with olive, orange and palm trees and cypresses, and adorned with four pagoda style buildings. From there she could also see Gallinara island, shelter for herring gulls and protected plant species.

In 1881 Miss Trevelyan visited Taormina for the first time. The Sicilian city at that time was still recovering from the turmoil that had followed the Unification of Italy in 1861. Economical backwardness had also forced many to emigrate and so depopulate the territory. Taormina impressed very much Florence, because it reminded her of Alassio. In particular, she thought the islet of Santo Stefano (donated in 1806 by King Ferdinando I to the city) resembled a lot to Gallinara. Together with her cousin, she stayed in Taormina from January 28th to February 14th 1881. On August of the same year, the two girls were back in Northumberland. It's during this time that Florence became somehow close to Queen Victoria, to the point of being invited to Balmoral Castle (fun fact, in Taormina Florence is still popularly regarded a Queen Victoria's niece. Perhaps everything started after people saw a photo of Florence with her mother, Catherine Ann Trevelyan. Certainly the majority of people didn't actually know the actual appearance of Queen Victoria, so Mrs Trevelyan was easily mistaken with her illustrious sovereign, after all they were only 4 years apart) . In fact, despite the fact that the Trevelyan were mere landed aristocracy (and Florence, as the daughter of a cadet son, wasn't even entitled to be called lady), they were well-connected with the higher society. It was rumoured that at some point Florence had attracted the attention of the womanizer Prince of Wales, future Edward VII. Also, according to this version of the story, once Queen Victoria was made aware of this dalliance, she wasn't amused in the least. To ensure the end of it, she supposedly kindly offered Miss Trevelyan a generous annuity to keep her away from her son. Handsomely rewarded for her renunciation, Florence left Great Britain to never come back again. The main supporter of this rumour is Dino Papale, lawyer and journalist, distantly related to Florence's future husband. In his book Taormina Segreta - La Belle Epoque 1876-1914, published in 1995, he claimed Florence had been basically exiled from the court and high society because of a supposed fling with Prince Albert Edward.

Whatever the real reason was, Florence left once again the country with her cousin Louisa. In 1885, they were back in Taormina, lodging at Timeo Inn, adjacent the Greek Theatre and owned by La Floresta family. The two women had brought with them their five dogs, and to avoid inconveniencing the other guests with the animals' yapping, in 1889 Florence funded at her own expenses the building of an upper level. When one of her dogs, Sole, fell ill, Florence was desperate since she couldn't find in all Taormina a veterinarian to tend to the animal. Desperate and in tears, she asked her neighbour Salvatore Cacciola for help. Mr. Cacciola, who lived in a mansion also adjacent to the Greek Theatre (the then Palazzo Cacciola, now Palazzo Acrosso Papale), had been Professor of Anatomy and Histology at Padua University. He tended to the dog and managed to heal it, earning the woman's appreciation. Florence and Salvatore soon got closer, especially since Cacciola had studied in Malta and was thus fluent in English. He came from a wealthy family, in the future he would even be Taormina’s mayor for almost a decade, and being a Freemason leader (he would found the Rinascimento lodge), he shared with Florence an interest in esotericism. The two quickly fell in love and married on July 5th 1890.

Once settled in Palazzo Cacciola, Florence decided to expand the already vast garden by buying one plot of land after another, until the whole slopy countryside that linked the villa to the sea was annexed to the Cacciola's property. Apparently, this decision earned her in 1894 a reproach from English archaeologist Arthur Evans. While completing the 4th and last volume of The History of Sicily from the Earliest Times, which he had written together with his (by then deceased) father-in-law, Edward Augustus Freeman, Evans criticised Mrs Cacciola's mass purchasing as it would have prevented future archaeological digs in a place so near to the Greek Theatre, and with sure archaeological and historical relevancy. ("This, with others of the most interesting and beautiful sites of Taormina, has passed into the possession of an English proprietress, who has barred the access and warned off the civilized portion of mankind in four languages", p. 110-111) Previously, on June 1890, Florence had bought the former islet of Santo Stefano (which German baron and photographer Wilhelm von Gloeden baptized as Isola Bella, beautiful island, as it is globally known). There she had a house built, and rare and expensive exotic flora planted. These plants soon merged with the islet's local vegetation creating a unique natural environment, enriched by the presence of many (and sometimes rare) species of migratory birds, insects and reptiles, like the red-bellied lizard (Podarci Sicula Medemi) which only lives there.

In 1891, Florence gave birth to a stillborn son. She decided to leave her husband and moved away from Villa Cacciola, going on to live alone even further in the countryside, in a small cottage on mt. Venere. Nearby the house, she had a mausoleum built, and a roadside that connected mt. Venere to Taormina. She became particularly involved in the charity works, like establishing a fund that would have provided the daughters of fishermen with a dowry. Furthermore, she immersed herself in the creation of an English-style garden (or landscape garden) which she will name the Hallington Siculo, after her English childhood home. Like she had done with Isola Bella, Florence mixed exotic with native plants to create a peculiar habitat. In order to make the place even more special, she had the garden scattered with many small follies (Mrs Cacciola called them "beehives"). These picturesque buildings were made of local materials: bricks, wood, and various types of stones, and even capitals and other from the Greek-Roman period and XV-XVIth century decorative elements. The hives served as a bird observatory and places where she could relax while reading or having tea alone or with friends. Taking inspiration from her esoteric interests, she added a small megalithic construction (a cromlech) made of limestone, with the ulterior intention to re-use the advanced materials. As an animal lover, she also had some cages installed to house peacocks, parrots, canaries and pigeons. These renovations plus the amazing panorama seen from the garden (ranges from mt. Etna, the Ionian sea and the surrounding countryside), makes the Hallington Siculo a true heaven on earth.

Florence and her husband had become incredibly well-known in Sicily and abroad. In 1896 (and again in 1904 and 1906) they were visited by Kaiser Wilhelm II of Prussia during his stays in Taormina, while in 1906 it was the time of King Edward VII of the United Kingdom (Florence's supposed former flirt) and his wife Queen Alexandra. Other personalities included Gabriele D’Annunzio, Edmondo De Amicis, Oscar Wilde (she would finance after he got released following the charges of omosexuality), Otto Geleng, D.H. Lawrence, Ignazio and Franca Florio, Joseph and Tina Withaker.

Following her son's death, she had developed diabetes. To cure her, her brother-in-law Carlo, the only pharmacist in Taormina, injected her with strychnine (at that time considered a cure for many illnesses). In September 1907 her conditions worsened, so that she had to go back to Villa Cacciola. There she died a couple of days later, on October 4th. Respecting her wishes, she was buried in the mausoleum on mt. Venere.

Dying childless, she had named as her heirs two of her father's cousins, Robert Calverley Trevelyan (her long-time penfriend and confidante) and his brother George Macaulay Trevelyan. Her husband obtained only the usufruct of Isola Bella, the Hallington Siculo, and the plots on mt. Venere, which after his death, would have gone to his wife's English relations. Florence's heirs had to follow strict rules, all devoted to the preservation of the flora and fauna which inhabited those places. And so, the peacocks, goats, doves, canaries, and so on, which had been a great company for her in those past years, had to live in health and comfort, tended with cure and love. As for the vegetation, nobody was allowed to work the land, cut any tree, or build houses. Salvatore soon remarried with his maid Ida Mosca, and adopted his young nephew Cesare Acrosso, who will later become a lawyer and the last fascist mayor of Taormina. Taking care of his first wife's properties soon became for Mr Cacciola a real hassle. In order to get free from this, in 1923 he asked for his nephew's aid and got in touch with his political enemy Giovanni Colonna, Duke of Cesarò (Acrosso was his secretary). In exchange for his political retirement, Cacciola obtained that the Hallington Siculo was expropriated for "public interest". The garden became then property of the town of Taormina, was dismembered, reduced to a quarter of its original size, and renamed "Parco Giovanni Colonna Duca di Cesarò". On February 19th 2019, thanks to a municipal decision, it changed again its name, becoming "Parco Florence Trevelyan", finally giving her original owner and curator the proper recognition.

As for Isola Bella, at Salvatore Cacciola's death in 1927, it was inherited by Cesare Acrosso (alongside with Cacciola's palace), who will sell it in 1954 to Leone and Emilio Bosurgi. The two businessmen brothers, disregarding Florence Trevelyan's will and wishes, built 12 individual homes, plus a small pool perfectly camouflaged between rocks and vegetation, to accommodate and entertain friends and clients. When their firm went bankrupt in the 80s, they were forced to auction off the islet. In 1990 Isola Bella was finally bought by the Sicilian Region, which transformed it into a wildlife reserve, reverting back to what Florence had intended.

Every year, on October 4th, a small ceremonial is held before a bust portraying Mrs Trevelyan in her dedicated park. It's a commemoration open to all of those wishes to remember and thank a woman who did so much for Taormina in her time, and left a lot to the future generations.

#women #history of women #history #historical women #women in history #florence trevelyan cacciola #contemporary sicily #taormina #salvatore cacciola #Province of Messina #people of sicily #women of sicily #cesare acrosso #giovanni colonna di cesarò #myedit #historyedit

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servphina · 4 years ago

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hi there ! it’s me eve, honestly im rly excited to finally bring this muse into play . im 23, use she/her, and in the gmt +8 timezone . you can contact me through ims or discord , but you’ll have to ask it from me first , just so i can keep track of who’s who ! im a medical student , but despite my hectic schedule i always take time to log in every day ! give this a like and i’ll pop in your ims for some connection plotting uwu

seo yeji & cis female. ⇢ SERAPHINA DARLINGTON-SONG, age 26, graduated Gilchrist University in 2017 as an INFORMATION ENGINEERING major. SHE was born in DAEGU , SOUTH KOREA & has been living in SEOUL , SOUTH KOREA working as an UNDERGROUND INFORMATION BROKER. SERA is known to be ADAPTABLE, HEADSTRONG, STOIC & OBSTINATE and that might be because SHE is a SCORPIO. ⇠ eve. 23. gmt +8. she/her.

TL;DR she’s heavily inspired by the shadow broker in the mass effect series and a character i wrote up long ago that never reached its full potential. seraphina could probably start wars with the wealth of information she has in her fingertips, and she probably knows everything your character has done, especially if it leaves a trace online.

pinterest here ! & playlist here !

BACKGROUND.

born to wealthy investor for a father and an archaeologist for a mother. youngest of three and the best of all of them. augustus and serena, while brilliant in their own right, couldn’t compare to the sheer magnitude of seraphina’s genius. however, they’re more sociable and agreeable — palatable, really — whereas seraphina is quite content with just watching from afar

she has everything working for her to be well-known and well-liked among her peers, but seraphina’s an enigma at best, and when she doesn’t budge at the constant badgering at the lunch table, people got the hint. and so she suffered the silence as her only company.

this one girl in her class took a seat beside her one day, but she didn’t really speak. not for a few days. and then one day the girl asked if seraphina had a pencil sharpener she could borrow, and that was the start of it. easy, and not all at once. her name was iris.

the two girls were practically joined at the hip, always at each other’s homes often enough they earned an honorary seat at the dinner table. iris was very dear to seraphina, and as they grew older, she wondered if her feelings for iris was how everyone felt towards a friend.

while she was asking serena about it, they were overheard by their father. a v traditional man. had to give up a lot for his family to be where they are, and this — thing his daughter had managed to get caught up in, is an aberration. to violate the ideals he has held on as a structure for his success was a threat to his legacy. he whisks his youngest off to boarding school at the earliest chance.

of course, being the newest addition to the student body of institut le rosey is a big benefit to the institution. however, due to her ever-present vigilance, it becomes apparent to seraphina that the administration pays a particular attention reserved only for her. ah. her father must have made a considerable donation to the schools funds for her to have spies tailing her every move. something about protecting the legacy, seraphina guesses. fine, she figures.

she throws herself in a multitude of extracurriculars to fill up the spaces in her mind. turn herself into something of value. archery, aikido, fencing, even becoming an equestrian just to cover up whatever “flaw” her father thinks she has. but it’s still all he sees.

there’s an anger that grows in her like a seed. and what comfort could a mother offer leagues away in a dig site, covered by sediment and dust? facetiming with her siblings is a monitored affair, and she stops calling them after a while. it didn’t seem right for an instructor to be breathing down her neck while she asks augustus how dinner was.

so, seraphina turned her genius into a knife. make sure no one will be able to find her footprints online. it takes a little bit of staying up late trying to learn code, but eventually, she makes something work.

GILCHRIST.

it’s her project that earns her a scholarship at the esteemed institution, as well as an invitation to the Gravediggers for her potential to contribute as a fully-fledged member. she navigated most of the initiation trials with a flourish, and though she was reluctant at first, seraphina has come to find her own sort of family during her stay at gilchrist, even becoming president for a time

she’s a steady shoulder to lean on, if that’s what you needed. a voice of reason, when she can spare the few words. seraphina becomes fiercely protective of what the society had meant to her during her years as a student and will go at any length to protect its interests. but above all she upholds the bonds its members make for themselves, their loyalty to each other. though not many were able to witness her leadership, it makes itself known in the society’s history like time wears itself on an artifact: respected by those who came before it.

once she has graduated, she tries to maintain her connection with some members, though respects a choice to be left alone.

PRESENTLY.

she becomes a consultant for a lot of companies as a day job, and in her free time, she refines her personal projects. over time, she notices a pattern emerging like an impression, and seraphina uncovers it to discover a web solely controlled by an unknown entity, with many agents acting according to its will

seraphina tracks the signal to reykjavík, in a penthouse that ought to have more security for what it’s worth. a man sits in front of numerous screens, and he almost looks relieved at the sight of her. “good,” he says, “it took you long enough.” and seraphina comes to know this man as her mentor, noah.

( tw: death ) he passes due to complications with his health a couple of years later and he leaves his information network, operations, and agents into seraphina’s care. no one is aware of the change in leadership. noah has only begun preparing seraphina to oversee such an expansive responsibility, and coming into it suddenly is a tall order, but seraphina wants it. the finer details about morality in her type of trade is something she will have to determine for herself. it is far too easy to do the wrong thing. ( end tw )

though she knows the university has closed down, seraphina can't afford sending an agent to uncover the finer details behind the vagueness of the letter sent to her out of respect for the society's privacy, so she sends herself

and being an underground information broker has lead seraphina leading two lives, and she’s very careful about keeping those two lives separate

#digooc #digintro #◟* you learn to love your own ghost — SERAPHINA.#death tw

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sad-sweet-cowboah · 5 years ago

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Misty Forester

Name:

Misty Selene Forester (Rodriguez)

Born:

April 10th, 1873 (Aries)

Age: 24 in RDO events, 25 in the main game, 33 in the epilogue

Birthplace: Manhattan, New York City, New York

Notable Characteristics:

Long brown hair

Bright green eyes

Plump red lips

Black, red, and white color scheme

Fashionable, will always make sure she looks good even if she’s wearing a potato sack

Sassy af

Vocally talented

Other Info:

Half Puerto Rican, 1/4 English and 1/4 French.

Bisexual, known to openly flirt with both men and women

Skills:

Sharpshooter

Persuasive speaker

Skilled actor

Weapons:

Duel wielding custom Mauser pistols

Lancaster Repeater

Carcano Rifle

Hunting Knife

Family:

Arella Forester (Mother)

Luis Rodriguez (Father, unknown whereabouts)

Marie Forester (twin sister, deceased)

Background:

Misty is the child of immigrant parents. Her mother, Arella, is from England and is the daughter of a successful French businessman and an English woman whose own family came from their own wealth. Arella was set to be married to a man who too came from a rich family. Arella was unhappy with this, stole some money from her parents and managed to escape to America for better opportunities. Despite her parents search, she managed to avoid them. She settled down in New York City. There she met Luis, a man who escaped his own home, once living in extreme poverty in Puerto Rico. They bonded and quickly formed a relationship, and Arella soon found herself pregnant.

Before Misty and Marie were born, Luis received word that his mother back in Puerto Rico had fallen ill. He didn’t want to leave his love and their soon to be children, but he had no choice. He managed to get back to PR and would often send letters. Arella kept him up to to date with everything, eagerly waiting his return. However after the twins were born, the letters stopped coming.

A couple of years passed and Arella gave up hope that Luis would return, wondering if he perished or just stopped caring. Either way, she had her daughters to take care of and did her best to raise them. The funds she once nicked from her parents’ fortune allowed her to provide her and her daughters a comfortable living situation.

All the money in the world however did not prevent Marie from getting sick. She became infected with Cholera at the age of five and despite the aggressive medical care, she ended up passing away.

Both Misty and Arella were heartbroken. They stayed in NYC for another six years, and decided to move south, relocating to another city known as Saint Denis. Arella, having grown up around French culture, felt right at home. Misty missed NYC, but soon fell in love with the grandeur of Saint Denis and often wandered around, marveling the well-dressed citizens and enjoying the entertainment. She soon realized she wanted to become a singer, seeking out a vocal trainer whom she learned from for a few years. She also hung around the theaters, speaking with performers and learning tips and techniques on not only singing, but acting as well.

Little did she know that it would come in handy one day. At the age of 16, her grandparents ended up in Saint Denis for a vacation when they ran into Arella by accident. The reunion was explosive, and a lot of shouts and curses were exchanged before everything calmed down. Misty did not know that her mother ran away years ago, and she never heard much about her grandparents except for that they lived in the UK. Despite the tension held, her grandparents absolutely loved her and wanted to keep in touch. Sometime after, she was kidnapped by a gang of outlaws. Somehow word had gotten out she was the granddaughter of a wealthy family, and their intention was to hold her for ransom.

She was with them for three weeks, having to endure their vulgarity. They gave her the bare minimum, feeding her bread rolls and making her sleep on the ground, knowing she would do no good if she got sick or injured. Despite how afraid she was, Misty managed to form a plan, carefully learning their mannerisms and how they interacted with others. She managed to escape without inflicting violence, using her charm and learned acting skills to weasel her way out. Unfortunately for her, she had no idea where she was.

No longer was she in the state of Lemoyne, instead finding out she was in a completely different state called West Elizabeth. With nothing but the clothes on her back and no money in her pockets, she had no idea how to get home, and she was certain those outlaws would catch up to her sooner or later. She managed to keep herself discreet for a couple of days, laying low and charming shopkeepers into giving her a couple of cans of food. All the while, she was desperately trying to find a ride back to Saint Denis that didn’t cost her money, or being subjected to disgusting favors from men twice her age.

One night she’d found shelter in a barn, sleeping peacefully when the sounds of voices aroused her. She realized immediately it was the gang of outlaws that kidnapped her in the first place, and she had no way to defend herself. Despite her trying to keep quiet, they eventually found her hiding spot. With no way out she was ready to accept her fate, until she heard gunshots and the heavy thudding of bodies. More gunfire sounded and she opened her eyes to see them facing outside the barn as a flurry of bullets both entered and exited the barn. She hid behind a crate, listening to the carnage until the gunfire stopped. Seeing the gang were all dead, she warily left her hiding spot and met the man who saved her, a fellow named Hosea Matthews. She recognized him immediately, having seen his wanted poster plastered all over Saint Denis for years. She thought he had the same intention of holding her ransom, but instead surprised her in saying he was here to help, after hearing talk about the rival gang searching for a young girl.

And so for the next few days, Hosea taught Misty how to defend herself. He gave her a revolver, teaching her how to shoot and basic tracking/hunting skills. He even offered to bring her back to his personal gang.

Main Game AU:

Misty considered Hosea’s offer. How she wanted to return home, but had a fear that upon returning, the same events would transpire and may end up with her, her mother, or others she cared about getting injured or killed in the crossfire. The last thing she wanted to do was bring home dangerous, greedy men, and decided to leave with Hosea.

Thus then started her journey as part of “Dutch’s Boys”, a scared young girl soon taught to be a useful gang member. Dutch and Hosea discovered her acting skills and put her to work for heists and robbery.

More to come soon...

RDO Events AU:

Upon declining Hosea’s offer, he gave her money to take a train back to Saint Denis and wished her luck, and let her know that he’d help her again if she ever needed it. She thanked him and got on the next train back home, glad to finally have a way back but she’ll never forget Hosea.

She returned to an emotional reunion, by not only her mother but her grandparents as well, who refused to return home until she was found. They immediately offered to take her and Arella back to England with them, where they guaranteed her safety. Arella declined for the both of them, while it was tempting, she did not want to subject Misty to the life that she hated.

Life returned back to normal for Misty, and putting the experience behind her, she tried pursuing a life in show business as she intended. Despite having a beautiful voice, she just couldn’t break past performing on the streets. She was constantly in other more successful performers’ shadows.

When she moved out on her own, she found it much harder to live on the meager money she was making. She then remembered her experience while being held hostage. The outlaws spoke about their tales and triumphs with stealing riches. She soon began to succumb to her curiosity, finding herself hanging out with the less desirable folk in Saint Denis.

She soon made herself a posse of her own called the Midnight Regulators, making their way across five states like a storm in robberies and ambushes. Misty often takes the role of damsel in distress to lure rich folk into trying to help her, and then robs them blind. She will also help those who are in greater need than her, sometimes becoming a “Robin Hood” and giving part of her loot to poor families.

Unfortunately, one of her gang members became too greedy and tried to overthrow her by attempting to kill her. The fight ended with Misty putting a bullet in their skull. The gang disbanded after that and she was alone, pulled to perform for funds.

Extra:

Legally her name is Misty Rodriguez. However, her mother introduced them using her own maiden name for her daughters to avoid discrimination.

Misty is actually afraid of horses, except her own, after being kicked in the chest as a child. It took her a long time to get comfortable around them.

She secretly hopes to meet her father one day.

She is considered morally gray.

Despite how her life has changed, she still wants to be on stage one day.

She has a soft spot for children and while it doesn’t seem likely, she hopes to settle down and have her own family.

Horses:

Cressida, an amber champagne Missouri Fox Trotter mare:

Misty’s main mount and her absolute favorite horse. Both fast and resilient, Misty was drawn in by this mare’s prowess and beauty.

Cornelia, a marble sabino Criollo mare:

Misty’s first horse. Cornelia can easily match Cressida in speed and stamina, but she’s very clumsy. Misty doesn’t ride her as often in fear of accidentally injuring her.

Orion, a sorrel overo Criollo stallion:

Misty came across this beautiful stallion tied up at a gang hideout, and took him once she’d done away with them.

Andromeda, a bay frame overo Criollo mare:

Misty’s newest horse. A prized mare she found at Braithwaite Manor when she snuck over to originally steal horses. She made out with the ones needed plus Andromeda for her own collection.

Blanche, a white Kladruber mare:

Not the fastest mount, but gorgeous and sturdy. Blanche, meaning “white” in French, was given to Misty by a man in thanks for saving his daughter.

#Misty Forester #red dead online #RDO #red dead OC

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warsofasoiaf · 5 years ago

Note

Hi again, just a friendly reminder for you about Disco Elysium. I played it myself 2 weeks ago and I thought it was a wonderful game, looking forward to hear your opinion.

Here’s the weekend reminder about disco elysium: at some point I’d like to hear your thoughts about Kim and the deserter, but I’m sure you have a lot of first thoughts about the game’s narrative and styles at large and the overall themes ?

Yep, I’ve got many thoughts on Disco Elysium. Overall, I found it an incredibly enjoyable throwback to the classic role-playing games of the old Infinity Engine in a good way. It’s dialogue-driven in the way Planescape: Torment was, but was confident enough to avoid the pitfalls of combat that punctuated the D&D games in favor of a mechanical challenge of skill checks. All conflict is done through dialogue, either through picking a dialogue choice or engaging in a skill check. The game also helpfully gives you feedback, not only in your skill totals, but in how your actions influence the choices you’ve made. Did you take the corrupt union boss’s check? He has you over a bit of a barrel so it’s harder to resist him. Did you impress Cuno with your marksmanship by shooting down the body? You have a bonus to impress him since you’ve already done it before. This sort of openness with the mechanics of the game helps smooth over understanding of the functions, as well as reinforce the themes. Since everything you do is in the dialogue trees, and all of these choices occur in dialogue, it stresses careful reading of the dialogue box as opposed to something you just blow through to get quest markers or goodies.

Alright, let’s talk about the plot. Since there will be spoilers and it’s a relatively recent game, I’m going to throw a cut in here.

One of the chief themes of the game is sadness and loss, it’s written all across the setting. Heck, it’s even written into the name. Disco is the archetypical music genre that is dead, despite its followers wishing that it could come back. Elysium, the afterlife of Greek mythology. It was a failed communist revolution followed by a failed monarchist rebellion followed by a capitalist invasion, and now exists as a pit of corruption, crime, and plenty of people within Martinase look back to the lost days by cleaving to the old political systems as a source of comfort. Communists and monarchists look back to the old communes that were established, capitalists look to the successful Coalition and the ability of capital to absorb its naysayers and failures into itself for success, and the moralists look at the other three and say “you extremists are absolutely insane!” and hold to their own centrist platform and the path of incremental caution. This is hardly unusual in our own history, with far too many historical examples to list here. There’s a longing there for something that is lost, the people you meet in the game are lost, even what seems to be simple comedic beats have their own secret wishes, like Cuno who ends up helping you in the final act if you lose Kim, and can even become a junior police officer once out of the thumb of Cunoeese. Harry can sing the saddest song about the littlest church, and it’s a perfect expression of his regret, as his reptile brain lets him know. The deserter is lost in regret, albeit an incredibly negative sort. He curses those who are not ‘committed’ like him, who aren’t willing to murder like him. He looks at the Rene, the old monarchist with his boule, and wishes only to pull the trigger and silence him.

The main character you inhabit is a great twist on the blank slate character that dominates the ‘western RPG.’ The main character starts the game passed out in his own drug-fueled excess. Where most RPG’s either expect reading a large lore dump (this was the case with the Forgotten Realms Infinity Engine games, which expected people to know who Cyric or Auril was) or largely wave it off with bland exposition, this was a game that made what happened an integral part of your character. What drives such a man to try and destroy himself so completely? Going through the game reveals the answer: it’s Dora, your ex-wife. Before, your obsession with your job (your case load, as noted by Kim, is exceptionally high), seemed to be at odds with your character’s penchant for substance abuse and overall instability, but exploring the failed relationship with Dora sheds new light on Harry DuBois. Dora was a wealthy woman, and your character was clearly a member of the lower classes given his demeanor and salary. Your character tried to immerse themselves in the work perhaps to earn more money, or simply to earn prestige to help alleviate the mismatch. It didn’t work, Dora left six years ago, and the detective has been alone ever since. By calculating the ‘cop tracks’ that the character can be on, the game can populate dialogue with references to the behavior, allowing the character to fill out aspects of themselves in a character-driven way. Tyranny did this with its campaign character generation, and Disco Elysium does it here. Such things are always going to be niche in RPG’s, the driving trend these days is instead make a completely blank character and have them be built out from actions taking place in the game world, but this typically leads to characters who rationalize performing optimal paths and who do everything the game offers in the world, which translates either into a lot of time doing repetitive content (in order to built up other character builds to the same level of mastery to the original build) or leads to ludo-narrative dissonance at the ease of which the character plows through the content, like becoming the Arch-Mage in Skyrim without being able to cast a single adept-level spell.

However, that isn’t to say that Harry is alone. Instead, the detective is quite a crowd is his own head, with the 24 various skills that he has developed largely advising, suggesting, yelling, and talking over each other. This was almost certainly part of the reason the original name of the game was “No Truce with the Furies.” The Furies, in Greek mythology were embodiment of vengeance, primal feelings that sought out their goals. These 24 skills in your head almost cannot be compromised with, only accepted or rejected. They’ll yell inside your own head to listen to them. Electrochemistry wants its next fix, Volition is certain that Klaasje is trying to manipulate you and wants you to slap cuffs on her right now, Physical Instrument wants you to show everyone who’s boss with fists while Authority wants the same with words. This was almost overwhelming at first, 24 characters to figure out in addition to my own character as well as Kim, Cuno, Joyce, Everett, and the Hanged Man made me wonder what exactly I was going to do. What was the difference between Volition and Composure, or Shivers and Inland Empire? It helps on a replay once you figure out what the skills actually mean and can help shape your character into your preferred vehicle for exploring Revanchol West. Dealing with these characters can be fun, insightful, and incredibly heartwarming, as the player can understand when they finally find out that Reptile Brain and Limbic System are simply trying to help Harry out with the loss of his ex-wife by trying to get rid of the sad feelings as best they can.

What helps with this though, is that failing skill checks is not a death sentence. One of the most annoying things in games comes when you depend upon success after success that is out of your control, it encourages save-scumming behavior. This isn’t to say that failure isn’t a valuable learning experience or that difficulty is something to be avoided; the enduring popularity of the Soulsborne genre suggests that difficulty is not itself a bad thing. But failure typically has to be fair. If instead a game drops you in a room with 25 gorgons, forcing you to roll 25 checks against petrification or die immediately, that’s not challenge, that’s just padding the length of the game by forcing repeat content. Disco Elysium instead makes failure, particularly of red skill checks, either entertaining or allowing alternate paths. I laughed with absolute glee when my character took off from Garte yelling at him about the trashed hotel room which ended up becoming a full sprint while flipping him the bird, causing me instead to run over the nice wheelchair-bound old lady, in true black comedy fashion, or that you can get into a nodding war with Kim that’s so intense that you actually break your neck. That the game offers so many different methods to the same path helps elevate the role-playing elements.

Similarly, one of the best moments of game design was when you looked at the billboard to find out where Ruby could have gone. It’s a difficult Shivers check, which might force people into an insurmountable wall if they haven’t upgraded their Shivers skill. However, doing stuff in the fishing village, from going on a date with the harpoon girl to tracking down what went on with the body on the boardwalk, gives you bonuses to the check, encouraging the character to perform the side quests and explore the bonus content.

The game’s side content really does reward some more of the Dirk Gently type of character that sees connectivity in anything. The old lady reading outside the bookstore doesn’t have a missing husband only to later be the wife of the man who died on the boardwalk, or that a grounded character won’t walk out into the water to speak with the apparition of Dora as the mythical Dolores Dei (another great reference to what was lost, the lost wife seen as the lost mythic Moralist conqueror and crusader) means that the more grounded character does have the more grounded, less intense story. But the short length encourages replayability, and the idea that a grounded character has a more grounded story is in it’s own way a commitment to the game’s overall vision, even if it means you miss out on a key insight the first time around.

I’m incredibly impressed at how the developers stuck to their visions and the finished product that they developed. My hat is off to them.

Thanks for the question, Khef, the multiple Anon’s who reminded me, TBH, and everyone else who was looking forward to this essay.

SomethingLikeALawyer, Hand of the King

#disco elysium #video game reviews

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hansoftheisles · 5 years ago

Text

|| Get to know HANS ISLES who’s THIRTY years old and works as a BUSINESS STRATEGY CONSULTANT in town. He is from CORONA and is often times mistaken for AARON TVEIT while others say he reminds them of HANS from FROZEN. ||

bio & headcanons:

Despite the love he received as a child, growing up as the youngest of 14 was never easy. Everything he did, one of his brothers had already done bigger and better. Anything he said, his parents had already heard before. Carving an individual path for himself was difficult when every sport had already been played by at least one of his brothers, every hobby had already been tried before. It was even hard to impress his parents with straights A’s, as he wasn’t the first one to achieve it. He lived perpetually in the shadow of his brothers, unable to break free or carve an identity of his own.

When he was eleven, three of his brothers spent a whole two years pretending that Hans was invisible. They refused to speak to him or acknowledge him, and bumped into him every time they walked past as though he wasn’t there. The rage Hans feels now has been bubbling under the surface since that moment, though he spent a long time pretending it wasn’t there in an attempt to appear like the perfect son.

Being ignored by three of his brothers for so long meant that Hans became very good at reading people. When no one will talk to you, all you can do is sit back and observe, and this gave him a lot of time to try to figure them out. He learned to read even the most minuscule changes in expression, became practically professional in deciphering someone’s tone. While it was something of a hobby to him in childhood, he uses it to his advantage now as he figures out everyone he meets and discovers how he can use them for his own personal gain.

Trying to carve a path of his own, Hans started to pick up what he considered to be unusual hobbies growing up in an attempt to stand out to his parents. He can play the oboe, speaks fluent German, plays a mean game of croquet, and can make a professional looking bowl with a pottery wheel. He also went through a phase of wearing unusual hats because he thought that might help him stand out. While it did help him stand out, it also made him feel slightly confused about his own identity. He grew up without much sense of self — he only knew that he wanted to be different from his brothers.

Focusing his entire adolescence on being good enough to impress his parents, Hans left very little room in his life for fun. His whole life was filled with studying and increasingly obscure and difficult extra curriculars to make himself seem impressive and important. It never particularly worked, and only resulted in him being bitter and bored. He’s trying to recapture some of his youth now and is trying out having fun without worrying about the consequences.

After his mother’s death, Hans spent a long time evaluating his life. All this heard work, and where did it get him? In the same spot he’s always been, in the shadow of his brothers and the continued disappointment of the family. He’s starting to realize that maybe hard work and patience doesn’t pay off the same way his mother always told him it did. It’s time to try being selfish and give ruthlessness a go.

Growing up, Hans was a hopeless romantic. Convinced what his parents had was true love, he wanted that for himself too. He had a secret soft spot for romantic comedies, and sobbed the first time he wanted The Notebook — and every time after that. He fell easily for every beautiful person he met, and went above and beyond in relationships to plan perfect dates and surprise his partners with flowers and cute little gifts, just because. Since his mother’s death he’s closed down that side of himself, seeing it as naive and foolish. That romantic side of him is still in there somewhere, though he refuses to access it.

He’s bisexual as fuck, though he’s extremely repressed about it. Growing up, he knew his parents would never approve of him if he came out, and his entire youth was spent trying to appease his family. While he’s broken free of them now, it’s hard for him to shed the perfect image he spent so many years cultivating.

Hans was always considered to be charming, and he’s shocked at how easy it is to use his charm and good looks to get what he wants rather than working hard for it. Manipulating others is starting to come easy to him, and he’s grown accustomed to getting whatever he wants with a smile and a few well chosen compliments.

There are now two very different sides to Hans, and he is very careful and calculated about who gets to see which side of him. To most, he is the same charming man he’s ever been. He’s kind, considerate, trustworthy, and even a little bit dorky — he’s not one to harm a fly, let alone break your heart. To his closest friends, he lets his true colours show. He’s vain, selfish, and impatient, bordering on cruel. He knows exactly what he wants, and he’s not afraid to cause harm to get it.

Coming from a wealthy, socialite family, Hans never learned how to do anything particularly grueling, especially when it came to physical labour. Cooking and cleaning aren’t his strong suits, and if something breaks down in his house, has has absolutely no idea how to fix it. While there was a time when he would have put in the hard work, learning how to fix it himself, he now much prefers to throw money at it. Why deal with a problem yourself when you can pay someone else to do it?

He’s always had a taste for the finer things in life, and is known to be quite pretentious about it. Hans only wants the best clothes and cars money can buy, and he won’t be caught in anything less. He feels the same way about food and drink, and has particularly strong feelings about wine. He’s that obnoxious person in the restaurant that insists on sampling the wine first, sniffing and slurping and doing all the other disgusting things you can do to a glass of wine to test its quality. He will absolutely judge your worth based on the wine you order.

An extreme bibliophile, he prefers reading to watching movies or tv. He’s a lot smarter than he looks, and particularly enjoys reading historical nonfiction, and mystery or thriller novels. He finds that there are few people that can actually hold a conversation about a good book, and if you’re able to do so you’ll automatically earn his respect.

Looking for a job that will pay him well for doing the bare minimum, he fell into his job as a business strategy consultant. It’s a simple job: he comes into small businesses, analyzes what they’re doing wrong, and instructs them on all the ways they can improve. As far as he’s concerned, it’s the perfect job. He’s paid well to judge others, doll out commands, and do none of the hard work himself. Hans has become quite comfortable in his job, but he still feels as though there’s something missing.

Working tirelessly on a way he can finally one up his brothers, Hans finally figures out the one thing he can do: become a prince. They may all be successful in their respective fields, but becoming a ruler will make Hans rise above them once and for all, officially asserting his dominance and superiority despite being the youngest. In the back of his mind, he knows it’s a far fetched, ridiculous dream. But pushing those qualms aside, he has his sights set on one thing: becoming a beloved ruler. He doesn’t particularly care which kingdom he’ll rule, any will do, and he’s unconcerned about the methods he’ll have to use to get there. He’ll do anything to get what he wants, and doesn’t care who he hurts along the way.

All Hans really wants is to be a ruler, to take the eventual and rightful place of a king that has was born into. Waiting for all 13 of his brothers to either die or renounce their position as king will take far too long, and he’s sick of waiting. He now has his sights set outside of his own kingdom. Hans wants to rule, he isn’t particularly concerned with what kingdom.

wanted connections:

absolutely everything please! friends that know he’s a piece of shit, fake friends, exes, flings, business owners that want to hear why their business is shit.

#( ❄️ i've been searching my whole life to find my own place // about )

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summahsunlight · 5 years ago

Text

We Belong to the Stars, CH.5

Word Count: 1669

Pairing: Poe/Evelyn (OC)

A/N: Here is the next chapter :) Use the links below to get caught up if you haven’t already!

Chapter One / Chapter Two / Chapter Three / Chapter Four / AO3

Leia moved towards the center console and hit a few keys. The image of a man appeared; it glowed, filling the room with a blue tint, flickering in and out every few seconds. She folded her arms over her chest. "Do you two know who this is?"

Poe let out a slow breath. "Senator Ro-Kiintor."

Kaleb glanced, sideways at his aunt. "You don't want us to kidnap a senator, do you Aunt Leia?"

"No, nothing that drastic," Leia responded, with a slight smile at her nephew. She pressed another button and a ship appeared. "This is the Hevurion Grace, the senator's personal yacht. It has been seen in First Order space, several times in the last couple of years. We believe that Senator Ro-Kiintor is colluding with the First Order, perhaps General Hux or Snoke himself. We just haven't been able to prove it. Poe, what do you know about the Pinnacle-class yachts?"

"Manfactured by Vekker Corp," Poe replied, crossing his arms over his chest. "I've seen them a couple of times. Only the very wealthy can afford them, usually everything is handmade, customized to the owner's wishes. More luxury than efficacy and they might as well as have a sign hanging on the hull with an invitation for pirates that screams, money in here!."

Leia's eyes sparkled, came even more alive. "Could you fly one, Commander?"

Poe shifted on his feet. He often told people he could fly anything. "Sure. It's designed to be flown by a single pilot."

"Good. I want you to steal it," Leia responded.

"What?" Kaleb sputtered. "You just said you didn't want us to do anything drastic!"

"No, I said I didn't want you to do something as drastic as kidnapping a Republic senator," Leia corrected him.

Kaleb looked incredulously at his aunt. "Sorry, I got my levels of drastic measures mixed up I guess. I had stealing a yacht at the top of the list along with kidnapping a senator."

Leia now gave him a mock glare. "You hung around your uncle too much as a child; his sarcasm has worn off on you."

Poe laughed, silently. Kaleb's remark did sound like something Han Solo would have said. Han Solo would help us steal the yacht, Poe thought as he glanced at the holo image of the Hevurion Grace still displayed before them. "How do you propose we do this? We can't go charging at this ship with Resistance issued X-wings."

"You're right," Leia said with a sigh. She shut the display down. "Despite the fact that Ro-Kiintor is a traitor, until we can prove it, he is still a senator in the Republic and we have to honor that."

"What you're saying is, if we agree to do this, we're on our own," Poe supplied, feeling a weight settling on his shoulders.

Leia nodded. "I need that ship, Poe; I need those navigational logs. Ematt has tried to put several agents on board the ship, but the records are purged before we can obtain any information. We need to disable the ship before the senator can do that, which is why I need someone to steal it. But I want both of you to know that this is a voluntary mission, anyone else you take with you has to realize if you run into trouble, we cannot help you."

Poe took in a deep breath, thinking over her words. If what she was saying was true, that Senator Ro-Kiintor was involved with the First Order, was betraying the Republic, than he was partially responsible for Lieutenant Muran's death. His fists clenched. "It's a tight window to take the ship, and it will have to be done in space, before the senator can land."

"I'm aware of that. I know how difficult this mission is going to be, which is why I'm giving you the option of saying no, Commander."

"If I'm going to do this, General, I'm going to need a few things."

Kaleb ran a hand over his face. Kriff, what are we getting ourselves into. He felt Poe's hand on his shoulder and when he turned to look at his friend, there was a warm smile on Poe's face, as if to tell him, it's gonna be fine.

Poe knew that convincing Karé and Iolo to join them on this crazy mission was not going to be hard. After all, this is why they had come to the Resistance, to do something about the amassing threat of the First Order. Kaleb sticking by his side during all this did surprise him though, if they were caught...

"We're not getting caught," Kaleb said, leaning back against the bulkhead. "Eight minutes is plenty of time to pull this off."

"If we do... the Senate is already distrustful of your family," Poe pointed out to him.

Kaleb shrugged his shoulders. He had always known where he came from; it had never been a secret to him that his grandfather had fallen to the dark side and become Darth Vader. It had also never been a secret that his other grandfather was an Imperial war lord. Despite all that, his parents had turned into decent people. "At this point, I don't give a damn about my reputation in the Senate."

Iolo got up from his spot at Poe's small table, poured himself another drink, and went to pat Kaleb on the shoulder. "Makes two of us," he said with a wide grin. "I'm glad you're coming along; we could use all the good pilots we can get on this crazy stunt."

He returned Iolo's smile. Kaleb had pulling off crazy stunts in his blood. His father and uncle had dodged capture on the Death Star, tricked Jabba the Hutt... "If we really want to be successful, we'd call Evie. She's the better pilot."

Poe's eyes grew dark. It had already been suggested once, by Kaleb, that Evelyn go instead of him. Poe couldn't bring himself to make that call. It would be the worst way to see each other again and honestly, the thought of her being arrested made him sick to his stomach.

Karé sensed his unease around the subject and changed it. "Evelyn might be the better pilot, but we can do this Kaleb. Just think of the story we'll have to tell her once we get that damn yacht back to D'Qar."

"She's going to say this was too reckless," Kaleb drawled, with a fond smile.

"Evie was always the more rational one," Poe murmured.

"Growing up with you two, she had to be," Iolo joked.

"That's true," Poe said with a sad smile.

"When we get back from this crazy mission, you need to send her a message," Karé stated, standing up and stretching her long legs.

Poe shook his head. He wasn't sure that was going to do any good.

Karé looked at him incredulously. "You want a chance with her or not? Send her a damn message, Commander."

Iolo stood with her and nodded in agreement. "She's right, Poe. You've been pining away for the girl for the last five years. I'd send her a message, Commander."

"Are you two giving me orders now?"

"If I were you," Kaleb drawled, as the other two pilots left Poe's quarters, "I'd listen to them. Are you afraid that she won't want to talk to you?"

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. Yes, Poe was afraid that she wouldn't want to speak to him, that she wouldn't want anything to do with him. Did she still love him? Only one way to find out... you need to talk to her. Poe heard Kaleb tell him that he'd programed BB-8 with Evelyn's comm code, and then the pilot was left alone in his quarters. BB-8 looked up at him, expectantly. Poe sighed and nodded. "Yeah... yeah... let's record a message for her."

BB-8 rolled in front of him, beeping happily as if to encourage Poe. The pilot chuckled; before everything had fallen apart, Poe could have sworn that BB-8 loved Evelyn more than he did. In fact, he was surprised the little droid had not contacted Evelyn himself.

Poe took a deep breath, staring at his droid. He was usually good with words, but right now, when he was faced with having to speak to Evelyn... he just didn't know what to say. Too much, there's too much I have to say, he thought before beginning. "Hi, Evie," he said, softly, voice thick with emotion. "This message is probably weeks... no years...overdue. I hated myself for how I left things, truth was, I wanted to turn around the moment I walked away. I was a coward. I'm not asking for your forgiveness, Evelyn. I've been reassigned to D'Qar. I'm hoping we can talk. There are things that I just... that have to be said in person. Just know how sorry I am... I've missed you...I've missed you so much."

Another deep breath and Poe reached forward to stop the recording. BB-8 beeped happily and immediately sent the message. Shakily, Poe reached out and touched the little droid's head, "Thanks, buddy."

BB-8 watched his master for a moment, rocking back and forth, slightly. He inquired about Poe's mood; shouldn't Poe be happy that he'd sent that message? After all, Poe had spent the last five years debating if he should reach out to her.

Smiling, wistfully, Poe shook his head. "It's complicated, BeeBee. No one can know the Resistance exists, yet everyone knows it exists. Plus, I hurt her, badly. Sending her a message might not be...well received."

The droid was rightfully confused by his statement. Human interactions and emotions were something that BB-8 was still trying to figure out. Poe gently scratched his side and told him to shut down for the evening. In the morning, Poe was going on a mission without him, and he hated being left behind. "Don't worry," Poe assured him as he settled in for the night, "I'll come back; I always do."

#star wars #star wars fanfiction #poe dameron fanfiction #poe dameron #kaleb skywalker (oc)#leia organa #kare kun #iolo arana #bb-8 #poe x oc #we belong to the stars

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olicitysecretsanta · 6 years ago

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The Personal Shopper (Olicity Holiday)

Merry Christmas to @bifelicitys! I am your Secret Olicity Santa. I hope that you enjoy this romantic little story for the holiday!

The Personal Shopper

Felicity Smoak loved this job. Okay, technically, it wasn’t her job-job. It was her side hustle. Everybody she knew had one - an extra means of income - usually independent in nature - that she could use to make money on her off time from being a cyber-security expert at Merlyn Global in Starling City. The money was good, the work was ridiculously easy, and it was helping her to send extra cash to help her mom pay off her home in Vegas. It also helped to keep her busy and totally not thinking about how spending the holidays in a new city could make her feel a little alone. She had moved to town six months prior.

When Felicity first learned that personal shopping was an actual job, she scoffed. The idea that people paid you to shop for them sounded extravagant and, well, lazy. At first, she only purchased and set up computer systems for Luddites, people who either didn’t understand tech or were legitimately afraid of it. But last month, the agency that placed her asked her to branch out into other shopping tasks. This was how she found herself buying Christmas gifts for a very busy, very wealthy CEO. Initially, she had set up his home office and apparently he was so impressed, he asked the agency to hire her for the purchase of a slew of Christmas gifts for his friends of loved ones.

Felicity was surprised when she learned of the request. She had only exchanged a handful of emails and texts with Oliver Queen — that was his name — until that point. Of course, she knew she had good taste, a great intuition about what items were suitable, and perhaps most of all, the resourcefulness to find whatever was the right fit, no matter how difficult, but she certainly didn’t expect him to appreciate that that. But he did.

Since she had become his personal shopper, things with the businessman and Felicity had subtly shifted and there was more of a dialogue taking place between them. The emails were more frequent. There had been…texting. When he liked one of her suggestions, he always responded with text or an enthusiastic emoji. A target with an arrow sticking out of it meant she had nailed it. A goat meant the idea was exceptional. Once he had sent her a heart eyes emoji and then spent three texts explaining that his thumb had slipped and apologizing. That made her chortle for a full five minutes. The idea that a CEO would send her a text with heart eyes in it was hilarious. She had Googled him and knew that he was both handsome and notoriously single. It was best not to get infatuated with that sort of man. Still, Felicity looked forward to their exchanges. Realizing that her holiday duties would be wrapping up soon, she could not help feeling a bit sad.

On this particular Saturday morning, just days away from Christmas, Felicity entered the security code to a penthouse in what she considered the “fancy-schmancy” district of Starling. A green light on the panel signaled success. She turned the handle on a large wooden door and it swung open easily. On the other side, the clean lines, leather upholstery and muted tones of the apartment that screamed “luxurious bachelor pad.” There were a few paintings and a couple of furry pillows on a sofa, but no hint of personal decorations upon first glance. Normally this didn’t bother Felicity, but on this day it struck her that there was no hint of a holiday going on in the place.

Really, Oliver? No cheer? There was no evidence around the place, despite its beautiful furnishings, that he was celebrating Christmas. It was all grey and natural, but lacked color and, well, personality. Why didn’t he have a wreath on the front door or one of those Charlie Brown trees on a side table? It made Felicity shake her head.

The IT specialist/cyber security expert was dressed down today in yoga pants and an oversized green sweater, well aware she wouldn’t see anyone and, more importantly, no one would see her. She removed the messenger bag slung over her shoulder and slipped out of her fluffy winter coat, setting them both on stools by the breakfast bar of the kitchen island. Her boots came off next, leaving her feet covered in a pair of festive Hanukkah socks. Her grandma always kept her flush in themed hosiery. It was their thing.

Felicity had visited this apartment so many times, she had developed rituals. After leaving her footwear resting by the door, she headed to the wall of windows on the far end of the open living space. They showcased Starling City.. She stood near the glass and hugged herself against a slight draught. The brief chill was worth it for the view. It was a cold, but clear day and she could see for miles, even beyond the city.

When her reverie was done, she went to the stove and filled the stainless steel kettle that always rested on the gas burner. Early instructions on working in the empty apartment had encouraged her to make use of the kitchen, as needed. She did so gratefully. After sourcing a tea bag and a mug from the cabinets, she walked to the dining table and approached the laptop and a note that was left for her. The purchases were all made on Oliver’s laptop, which had his banking attached. It was easier that way and Felicity enjoyed working in the space, far from her small apartment and her tiny office at Merlyn Global. She also found it funny that she was tasked to work on a computer she had initially set up for the man.

Felicity had yet to cross paths with the man himself. It seemed that Oliver Queen was always out of town, or at a work event, or some gala. It had become a source of comedy, actually, how they passed without meeting. Consequently, there was always a typed note with instructions, presumably produced and placed on his dining table by his executive assistant. She had nicknamed the note-fairy “Godfrey” (although she was well aware the woman’s name was Louise) and wondered what it was like to be the sort of assistant who had to go to their boss’s apartment to deliver notes. She read an article that said CEOs sometimes had assistants do their packing. Godfrey have to pack for the man? Check the wine stash to see if any bottles were missing? (For the record, Felicity had examined the wine cabinet and even Googled a few of the labels out of curiosity, but she would never help herself to something. That was simply not right.)

Something else was not right today. The note. It was handwritten. A confident print with occasional script flourishes mixed in. Still, a man’s hand.

Dear Felicity,

First, thank you so much for everything you have done over the last months. I have appreciated your expertise more than I can say. You have done such a wonderful job sourcing gifts. It felt at times like you read my mind.

Felicity couldn’t help but smile. She felt appreciated. It had hardly felt like work to find gifts for Oliver Queen’s close friends and family members, but she liked the acknowledgment. That was something she didn’t get at her regular job.

I know that my mother is going to love the arrangement you made for the exhibit at the Starling Museum. Her friends at the garden club will be absolutely livid with jealousy and that will be like a second gift to her.

She nodded. The museum sponsorship had Moira Queen written all over it. Felicity got the idea when she saw a picture of the woman standing in front of a painting in an old issue of Architectural Digest. Did they really have an actual Monet in their actual house? She would have to ask sometime. Yeah, sure.

Dad will really enjoy the new turntable and the box set of Rolling Stones records (and they will make Mom crazy). We might need to think about head phones.

She giggled. It had not been her intention to create friction at the Queen Mansion, but when her research revealed that the retired business leader had been in a Stones cover band in college, it just felt right. Now she imagined Robert Queen strutting around his library like Mick Jagger and it made her extremely happy. The man deserved a little rock and roll in his life.

That amazing bottle of scotch is probably more than my best friend deserves, but it is Christmas. I’m not sure how you found it, but you are quite remarkable. He is going to owe me big time.

The bottle of Macallan for Tommy Merlyn required a bit of horse trading with a liquor dealer in Coast City and thirty minutes of free advice on the topic of secure point of sale systems. It was worth it and she was victorious. Now, she found it rather funny that she had helped arrange a gift for her boss’s son.

The Lieber bag you picked out for Thea is perfect for her collection. Thank you for figuring out which one she wanted.

She wondered if Oliver knew that his baby sister, Thea Queen, was an a-plus operator. As soon as Felicity started digging around to figure out a good gift for the young fashion student, Thea herself reached out and gave her several excellent suggestions and sources for the perfect treat.

All of the other gifts — the Disney package for the Diggles, the wallet for Walter Steele and the treats for the Board, were, again perfect. I am sure that my assistant is going to be very pleased with the cashmere wrap (and a hefty bonus).

Felicity knew that wrap was very, very nice. She just couldn’t imagine Godfrey wearing it. Well, she honestly couldn’t imagine Godfrey, period. And she liked it that way. Some mysteries were best left alone - as long as they weren’t technological.

One the subject of bonuses, please see the envelope (just between us) and accept it with my sincere thanks. You are obviously a clever, observant and nice person. I have enjoyed our messaging back and forth very much during this stressful end of year. You have made me laugh and, well…thank you. O

Felicity blushed a little from the complements and then noticed the aforementioned envelope. She looked inside and her eyes bugged out when she saw the amount. It was too generous.

She pushed away from the table and stood up, feeling the need to pace. She never expected any kind of gesture like this from a client and she didn’t know how to respond. Should she refuse it and risk offending him? Her brain was clouding up with ethical concerns. Finally, she grabbed her phone and found the familiar contact in her messaging program.

FS: You are too generous.

A few moments passed. Then she saw dots pulsing on the screen.

OQ: Not at all. You deserve it. You saved Christmas for me with my family. That means a lot.

FS: I do appreciate it. Thank you.

OQ: Are you headed out of town to visit your Mom for the holidays?

Felicity smiled. It was funny how much information had been shared in both directions while doing this job. Of course, it had been necessary to learn about Oliver in order to pick out appropriate gifts, but revealing information about herself had just happened naturally as they exchanged messages.

FS: No. She is going to Reno with her cousin. It’s a non-stop party with those two through New Years. They wear me out.

Oliver responded with a celebrating emoji and a smiley face.

FS: Are you going to be traveling for business through Christmas?

OQ: No, I actually got back last night.

An alarm bell went off in Felicity’s head at the same time the tea pot whistled. She nearly jumped out of her chair.

FS: You’re here?

OQ: At my parents through lunch. Tonight there’s a Christmas gala for…something. I’ll be by later to get my tux.

Felicity breathed a sigh of relief and headed to pour the water in the cup, phone still in hand.

OQ: Just relax and have that cup of tea.

She stopped and looked around the kitchen.

FS: How did you know I’m making tea at your place? Did you get cameras?

OQ: Creepy. No. I could never something like that past a security expert like you. I do get a notification when the alarm is disabled. Remember? You told me to set that up months ago.

Felicity smirked and submerged the tea bag in the bubbling cup.

FS: Very good. But that doesn’t explain how you know I’m making a cup of tea.

OQ: Every time I come home when you’ve been there, the only trash you leave behind is tea-related.

FS: That’s very observant of you, Mr. Holmes.

OQ: Thank you, Watson.

FS: But maybe the tea drinker is Godfrey.

A laughing emoji was the response.

OQ: That nickname.

FS: Not on-point?

OQ: Eerily accurate. Louise is a gem though.

FS: She must be to go through your unmentionables.

OQ: What???

FS: I read that some CEOs have their assistants pack for them.

OQ: That’s just wrong. I must admit, I do get a lot of help to manage my life, but I would never ask someone to do that.

FS: Good. I didn’t think you would be that kind of boss.

Felicity curled up on the sectional with her cup of tea. A handy throw within arm’s reach was pulled across her lap.

OQ: There was that one time though.

Felicity quirked an eyebrow and sent a similar emoji.

OQ: I had a business trip to Washington, DC and it got extended from two days to five. Louise had underwear and socks delivered to me. New. From Amazon. Totally unsolicited.

FS: So, she never touched your actual drawers then?

OQ: No drawers…of any kind. Ever. Jesus. I do have to make eye contact with her sometimes.

Felicity giggled into her cup and took a sip.

FS: I just realized, I am pulling you away from holiday merrymaking with your family. Decking the halls and such.

OQ: We don’t actually do that. Mother has the staff decorate. This year’s theme is silver and angst.

A chuckle erupted from the blonde.

FS: Don’t you miss putting up your tree?

OQ: Maybe a little. But I travel so much. I’m not around to pitch in anyway.

Felicity felt the conversation mood slipping. Even though she knew she should end it, she didn’t it to be on a sad note.

FS: My mother decorated a tree entirely with tacky earrings one year. That was special.

OQ: Aren’t you Jewish?

FS: My mother likes to decorate. Christian holidays have been appropriated. And she has A LOT of earrings. Another year we made ornaments out of aluminum foil.

OQ: That sounds very special.

FS: We Smoaks are resourceful.

OQ: You are a lot of things, Felicity. Very remarkable.

FS: Thank you for remarking on it. So, you have a gala tonight. What’s it for?

OQ: A worthwhile cause.

FS: You don’t know, do you?

OQ: Nope.

FS: But you’ll still show up looking pretty, right?

Felicity pressed send before she thought about it. She grimaced. That was a much too flippant thing to say to Oliver Queen, her client. She really needed to work on her babbling via text. After a moment or two, there was a response.

It was a blushing emoji.

FS: I think I should probably leave you to your day.

OQ: No problem. I do need to go to brunch. Have a great Saturday. And thank you again.

The end of Oliver’s text was filled with all manner of silly emojis. A snowman. Eyeballs. A scarf. A unicorn.

What a nice man, she thought. And a generous one - to friends, family, and colleagues.

Suddenly, Felicity wanted to do something nice for Oliver Queen. Maybe it was crazy, but she would try. She just didn’t have a lot of time.

>>—>

It was mid-afternoon when Oliver emerged from the elevator to the penthouse floor of his building carrying a sack of leftovers from his parents’ house. The housekeeper, Raisa, never let him leave empty-handed. He probably would have come home a little later, but he was intrigued. His security system had been disengaged two hours earlier with the code he had provided to Felicity Smoak and it had not been reset. Curiosity pulled at him and he was just a little worried that she might not be okay.

He had left the note and check early that morning, wanting to be sure she had a nice holiday and knew how much she was appreciated, but as the day had worn on with activities at the mansion, he had really only been thinking of her and their texts.

As soon as he crossed the threshold, Oliver was struck by the smell of cinnamon and pine. Over near the window, he caught sight of her - a petite blonde with her back to him, reaching up to put a paper snowflake on a sizable Christmas tree. She was adorable from the back, her pony tail swishing back and forth. And when she lifted her arms, the sweater she was wearing revealed a rather tantalizing yoga pant situation. He had Googled her months ago when he decided to give her access to his home, so he knew how attractive she was, on top of being an exceptionally gifted tech genius. It still burned him that Merlyn had hired her before she was on QC’s radar. But maybe things worked out the way they were supposed to.

Rather than startle her, he just stood and marveled at the room. There were boughs of holly and sprigs of greenery placed carefully around the room. Candles (the battery-operated ones that looked pretty authentic from a distance) flickered on tables. She had obviously worked fast. His apartment looked like an actual home today - not just an extension of his office or a hotel suite. He wanted to smile, but guarded his features, waiting for the woman to turn to face him.

When she did, she took his breath away, just a little. Her glasses had slipped down her nose and she gasped at his sudden appearance.

“Oliver. I mean, Mister Queen. I’m…” Felicity grimaced, suddenly realizing that this spontaneous idea might not be welcome and she had majorly overstepped. Perhaps the man didn’t want all of this holiday nonsense cluttering up his streamlined existence.

He liked her voice. It was feminine and he wanted to hear more of it.

“You’ve been busy,” he deadpanned.

“I just thought,” Felicity stammered as she moved to collect the paper snowflakes she was cutting at the dining table, “you might enjoy some cheer in your home. I am so sorry I intruded. I can come back later when you aren’t home and clear it away.” She wasn’t making eye contact now.

“Felicity,” Oliver sighed her name for the first time. It felt nice on his lips. “Felicity,” he repeated, finally causing her to stop and look at him. “You will do no such thing.”

“No?”

“This is the absolute best present I have gotten in a long time,” he spoke warmly and approached her at the table.

She bit her lip and looked away, her fingers worrying at a snowflake so much that it was becoming confetti on the floor.

“It wasn’t a big deal, I…”

“I don’t mean mean the decorations. I mean you,” he stepped closer to her and touched her elbow gently. Felicity looked up at him, breathless. He really was a looker, as her grandma would say. She swallowed hard and swore not to say anything ridiculous for as long as possible.

Oliver got lost in her blue eyes and stopped speaking, then suddenly realized what he had just said. It sounded kind of overbearing. “Not…not that you’re my present,” he actually stammered. “I mean, your friendship. Meeting you has been such an unexpected gift these last months. Do you understand?” Oliver’s voice was barely a whisper as he studied her face for a response.

The blonde had to escape his intense gaze, so she looked down at her Hanukkah socks and flexed her toes. Oh geez, she was wearing crazy socks in front of this beautiful man. It suddenly occurred to her that he didn’t care. Felicity blinked and a smile erupted across her sweet face. “Well, technically, we haven’t met yet.”

“Holy shit, you’re right.” The tall man threw his head back with a chuckle. Then he gathered himself as he would before a business meeting. He stepped back and bowed his head slightly.

“Hello. My name is Oliver,” He stalled, then, to make it clear that he was not his father. “Oliver Queen. I am an over-scheduled businessman who is completely reliant on other people to do basically everything for him.” He offered his hand to her, quite formally.

Felicity stood a little straighter and reached out to meet his hand with hers. “Hello. I’m Felicity Smoak MIT Class of Oh-Nine and I am occasionally nosey and completely inappropriate.”

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Felicity.”

“Oliver.” She said his name and it sounded sweet to his ears. She grinned afterwards because she liked the sound of it too.

“Felicity, if you aren’t busy tonight, could you stay and help me decorate this tree? Have dinner?”

“Sure. But you have a thing. A gala thing tonight.” She tried not to look disappointed.

Oliver thought about the situation for a moment and then pulled his phone out of his pocket. His expression encouraged her to wait while he attended to something. He drafted a text and hit send. Then he waited.

“I like your socks,” he said idly. He liked everything about Felicity Smoak, actually, but it was a little early to share that.

“Thank you,” she brightened. “A present from my grandma.”

“Have I mentioned how extraordinary you are, Felicity Smoak?”

“Not in the past ninety seconds.”

There was then a ping on Oliver’s phone. He looked down at the screen and grinned. He sent another text back. There was a reply. And then another exchange. When it all ended, Oliver breathed a cleansing breath and looked more relaxed.

“What is it? What just happened?” Felicity couldn’t contain her curiosity any longer.

Oliver turned the phone to show her the conversation. Felicity moved closer and leaned in to read the screen.

OQ: I need you to do the gala thing tonight in my place.

TMerlyn: What’s it for?

OQ: A worthy cause.

TMerlyn: You always say that.

OQ: it’s always true.

TMerlyn: Why me? Or should I say, why not you?

OQ: I am decorating my apartment tonight with my new friend. And you owe me.

TMerlyn: Thank God, you old hermit. Is she pretty? Does she have a friend. Hey, how do I owe you?

OQ: You will when you see your Xmas present.

TMerlyn: It better be good, Ollie. And you better send a nice donation to the worthy cause.

OQ: Will do. Night Tommy.

Felicity’s heart was beating, being this close to Oliver and having witnessed his private conversation. He wanted to get to know her better. She shivered a little at the prospect.

“I am suddenly free.” He looked down at her, nearly a head shorter than him and beamed. His eyebrow quirked with an unanswered question.

“Well, since you are free, I guess it’s good that I am as well.”

“Yay,” he cheered, just loud enough for her to hear.

“You know, you really need to slow down and take more time for yourself, Oliver.”

“I absolutely agree. And that starts tonight. You could show me how to make these snowflakes for the tree.”

Oliver took her hand and led her back toward the tree. He didn’t let go and hoped she wouldn’t mind/didn’t notice.

“Oh, I don’t know. That’s pretty advanced. Do you think you’re ready?”

“Maybe you’re right. I should work my way up to paper crafts.” Oliver looked from her to the tree and sported a playful grin. Next to him, her voice piped up. It was becoming his favorite voice.

“Right. So, Oliver, do you have any aluminum foil?”

The End

and

Merry Christmas!

#arrow #olicity #olicity fic #olicity secret santa 2018 #submission

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dis-easedfairy · 7 years ago

Text

Impulsive Decision pt.2

Chapter 2: The Duck Tape Pillar

WARNINGS: SWEARING/STRONG LANGUAGE | KIDNAPPING | MENTIONS OF MURDER |

Pairing: BTS x Reader / Kim Taehyung x Reader

Word Count: 2,723

Summary: Y/n is the owner of a very wealthy and successful company, Barnanby Inc. Y/n attends a BTS show. They make a very impulsive decision to show a loophole in BTS’s security and end up kidnapping BTS and 2 girls. In a fit of panic Y/n stashes BTS and the girls in a very luxurious bunker for the time being, but Y/n’s world slowly starts to crumble the longer the boys are out of the public’s eye.

A/N: This is mostly angst with a small amount of fluff at the end.

"Okay, my friend is gone, I'm calm, I'm confused and mildly stressed, aka me most of the time. I'm sorry you had to see me pop off on 'My-Daddy-Is-A-Lawyer' over here, but I'd like to show you the rest of the bunker. If any of you try what she or Jimin did, you will be exiled to the ducktape pillar until you learn manners, are we clear?" I stated, walking out the bathroom in front of them all.

Everyone nodded, all but the girl ducktaped. I walked over to the double doors and slid them open revealing a very open layout. It was a nice spacious living room with three couches, large tv, and speakers. A normal sized kitchen behind the living room and a dining room with a large table.

I had the whole place black, white and gray besides a few things here are there that were different colors of the rainbow to add some personality. I walked into the dining room with them following. There were two openings on the left and right of the dining room.

I turned around to face them

"To your right is a hall that leads to a gym, a locker room, an office, a library and a bathroom. To your left are the bedrooms. There are only 4 done so you may have to share rooms. I was supposed to have the other four rooms fixed up, but never got around to it and never saw a need to. Also, there is a laundry room and 3 large bathrooms in that hall because I prepped this bunker for my family and they take like 3 hours in the bathroom for some reason. You are free to play my arcade games, eat my snacks, drink my alcohol and do as you please. Be sure to eat dinner and I'll be back." I announced and began to walk out.

"You're not staying?" Jimin asked quickly.

I stopped to turn to them, they all seemed panicked.

"Don't worry this place isn't riddled with traps or anything. I'm only leaving to tell my company I'm taking a week off, get food and inform my family that I'm going rogue for a week or so."

"'Going rogue'?" RM questioned.

" Your company??" J-Hope asked.

"Yeah, I do this thing where I just drop off the face of the earth for a few days. It usually happens when I'm depressed, or just want to be alone. They understand already. Yes, my company, I inherited it from my dad. It started from cartoons to TV to toys, how else does someone acquire enough money to build a bunker with 8 bedrooms, 4 bathrooms, large TV and speakers, a nice kitchen, a gym, office, library and gaming room all well stocked with top of the line equipment? I'll be back in a bit." I began walking out once more.

I ended up over-shopping. I got too much food and bought clothes for the boys, hoping they'd fit. I got out my car and started loading everything at the dial door. I made sure I had everything before I closed and locked the vault door and opened the punched in the code, loading everything in the now empty feeling room. I noticed the girl wasn't taped to the pillar. I sighed. I slid open the doors dramatically.

"HeLLO FELLOW BITCHES!" I called out moving bags to the kitchen.

Jimin and Suga were sitting on the couches, mindlessly watching TV, I could hear an argument happening between Jungkook and Jin along with a Mortal Kombat tune playing.

Jimin jumped up and went to grab bags from the previous room and Suga gave me a look I couldn't figure out.

"What's with the look?" I asked, starting to load things in the fridge.

"Why so many bags? Are they too heavy?"

"I got a lot of food and clothes for you all. Unless you like using the same underwear and hoodie for a week, then be my guest." I tried to make it seem like his sudden concern didn't faze me.

Jimin came in with a ton of bags, dropping them on the floor and started helping me put things away.

"Since when did you become helpful?" I asked Jimin suspiciously.

Jin walked into the dining room, he saw me and gave me a small smile.

"Hello, how was the trip?" He asked softly, walking up the counter, looking curiously through the bags.

"Fine, I guess. I got a lot of food and got you all clothes, where is everyone?"

"Jungkook, Taehyung, and Hoseok are in the gaming room cheating," I let out a small giggle. "Namjoon is in the library with Seongmi and Linza."

"Which one is the one I dislike? Ducktape Girl I mean."

Jin was trying not to laugh as he got the name 'Linza' out.

"How's your back?" Jimin asked quietly.

"Okay, what's going on?? Suga looked at me funny but asked if the bags were too heavy. You held a knife to my back and are now asking how my back is feeling like you weren't threatening to stab it a few hours ago. Jin has been mostly calm this whole time and it's starting to freak me out." I admitted.

"Yah! When I have I not been calm!?" Jin almost demanded, making me smile.

My phone gave off a notification that I had lost cell service from being in the bunker. It made me freeze. I walked over to Suga and held my hand out.

"Hand over the phone."

He looked as if he was going to challenge me, but decided against it. He handed me his phone. I turned on the screen. An app was open, a recording app that had several 10-20 minute recordings on it within the past 4 hours. Since I kidnapped them. I frowned and handed his phone back. That's why he and Jimin seemed so concerned with me, they wanted to not be suspicious. They wanted to seem compliant.

"You're not deleting anything?" Jimin sounded timid, like he was afraid to say the wrong thing.

There was no doubt that he recorded me popping off on 'Ducktape Girl' when I was angry. Out of context, I would be painted as an unhinged monster in front of a judge, especially since 'Ducktape Girl' insisted her father was a lawyer. Not only that but my family's reputation with the law since my father passed was an extremely unsturdy bridge that was one gust of wind away from completely disintegrating. The police in the area were just praying to get a family member of mine to harass every day. I could go to jail for life.

I was going to jail for life.

I felt my eyes begin to water at the thought. I didn't even consider how long I'd go to jail for this, or how much more my family would be ridiculed when I did go to prison. All because of my poor impulse control, all because I made a stupid decision and didn't back out of it once I saw it go south.

"I'm not deleting anything; That's destroying evidence. I'm going to bed. I had ruined my life enough today." I emotionlessly spilled out, turning to the big double doors.

"You should eat something! Or at least a snack." Jin called out.

"You can eat all you want. I'm not hungry." I closed the double doors behind me and got on the large bed.

I pulled out my phone. I saw I had a call from my mom. I pulled myself out the bed and opened the dial door, closing it behind me. I got outside the bunker and caught service, despite the bunker being in a forest in the middle of nowhere. I tapped 'call back' and waited.

"Hey, Y/n your brother and I were just having a debate, want to settle it?" I smiled a little.

"That depends, what are you two arguing about NOW?"

"Mom wants to make HER 'Watermelon Wonder' bullshits for our sister's picnic." My brother butt in.

They were clearly drinking. My mother would never let my brother call her 'Watermelon Wonder's 'bullshits' without some kind of influence.

Our family was into charity events, whether it be picnics, fairs, library 'parties' or even college parties, we always liked to help out those in need. We did this all year round whenever given the chance, but summer was our busiest season.

'Watermelon Wonder' was a concoction my mother forced us to drink when we were younger. My MOTHER'S recipe had different types of melon, plus every leafy or healthy green thing she could get her hands on. Broccoli, spinach, kale, peas, you name it, blended into a thick liquid that was practically paste.

My FATHER'S recipe was just melons, mint and a small amount a lime blended into a smooth refreshing drink that was meant to be kept ice cold, we sold it in cans at our toy stores, it was a fundraiser tradition.

"No mom, DAD'S 'Watermelon Wonder' is the only one that shall ever have our involvement."

"HA! Remember when mom put WASABI in them!?"

I shivered at the memory as my mother and brother began bickering. No fun fundraisers in prison. No family dinners. No Drunk Family Night. No fulfillment of the promises I made to my father. My chest tightened making me let in a shaky breath that made my family stop bickering.

"Y/n? Honey, are you okay?" My mother asked.

The tears in my eyes spilled over.

"Yeah, just...depression." I lied.

"Are you taking your pills?"

"Yeah. I think I have to up the dosage. We still can't get it right. I'm sorry I can't be at the fundraiser, but I'll be sure to donate. I uh, need to make an appointment with our family lawyer too. I've been getting a property offer and want to make sure everything goes to you guys."

"Seth hasn't seen you since your father passed, I'm sure he'd love to know you're scheduling. I heard you're trying to expand to games?"

I smiled and I began to cry more.

"Yeah, dad loved them so much." My voice wavered.

My mom let out a dreamy sigh. "I remember our first date was in an arcade. He joked that if we'd have kids, he'd ignore me and play video games with them. Sure enough, your brother and sister showed up, you shortly after, then your little sister, I barely got to see him out of office or off the living room floor. He somehow always remembered anniversaries, birthdays and what I was wearing on the 13th day of that month. He never, not once, made me feel neglected or not paid attention to. He loved me. He loved all of you."

"Sorry mom, I have to go, work is calling." I managed.

"Okay, don't forget about your Dad's birthday coming up. We have a big even set up!"

"I won't, love you all." I hung up quickly and let out the sob that I was holding back.

I had so much to lose. I was so angry at myself. I texted Seth, the family lawyer to schedule an appointment, sent Jason a text, threatening him, telling him if he told anyone I'd let out all the details about the dirty magazine I found in his room when we were 10 and went back into the bunker.

I fell into the large bed, hoping Freddy Kruger would do me a solid and pull me far away. No such luck. I heard a soft knock on the double doors.

"You may be blessed with my presence," I called out loud enough for them to hear.

The door slid open, showing V in a large white T-shirt and boxers, hugging a pillow. I sat up.

"What's up?" I asked softly, my voice was still hoarse from crying.

He frowned, stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. He climbed on the bed in front of me and sat there looking at me for a bit.

"I want to get to know you." He stated matter-of-factly.

"Not much to know, just a crazy fan who kidnapped everyone." I laughed bitterly.

"I don't believe that."

I looked into his eyes, almost silently asking if we was serious. He was waiting patiently. I sighed, running my hands through my hair as I lied back. He quickly lied beside me, making my heart nearly jump out my chest and make a run for it. I tried to stay as calm as a possibly could. The luminous god beside me was making it pretty difficult.

"I own my father's company. He was an aspiring game designer until he met my mother who was an animator. Most of the companies she went to, to sell her work denied it for more popular animators. Talent didn't get her anywhere. So my father switched gears for her and became a business student. He didn't even finish college but managed to win over anyone who got within 100 yards of him. People loved him. He made a ton of connections, got a lot of job offers, made a lot of money from 2 to 3 years of hard work, bought a company, named it after my mother's first character, 'Barnaby' and had his new buddies run ads, shorts and other animations on their networks. My family's company got bigger, started showing their animations on their own platform. My older sister helps run that side of the company, Broadcasting and Entertainment. People wanted merchandise, my father expanded to toys that he and my mother designed. My younger sister helps with feedback and my older brother helps run that side, Toys and Merchandise. I was planning on moving to video games, my father used to love them. Every time he had a day off, I'd wake up to waffles with a tower of whipped cream on top, bacon, eggs, sausage, every berry he could find and every video game he could get his hands on. We'd all sit in the living room, until he had to go to work the next day, just playing games, having fun until that sun came up." I ranted, looking at the ceiling, smiling slightly.

"What happened to him?"

"He was murdered. His car somehow didn't have breaks suddenly in the middle of a busy highway. He crashed. The police said there was no foul play, My father was diligent with the car around that time since I was learning how to drive. The breaks weren't worn. Someone wanted him dead. They succeeded. My father always thought I was the most caring, likable, wittiest, smartest, bravest and most cunning of his children, so he gave me the company in his will." I let out another bitter laugh.

"He's probably the most disappointed billionaire ghost." I sighed feeling a sense of acceptance wash over me.

"Why would he be disappointed."

"Because I 'yeet'ed that shit out the window as I ran 12 red lights with 7 very famous idols and 2 innocent people in the back of a limo. All gone because I wanted to see how far I could go. Once I saw how far I could go, I was too afraid, too stupid to back out. Now I have a girl who says her father is a lawyer, an innocent girl whose family misses her dearly, 7 idols who are either terrified or disgusted in me in which case two of those idols have evidence that can destroy me, a best friend who can be labeled an accomplice, a police force who hates my family and is just waiting for the moment when one of us slips, and a family who will get blindsided by the news that their 'Golden Y/n' finally snapped."

"I'm not terrified or disgusted in you." V whispered softly.

"Are you saying this because you want plushies?"

"Yes." His boxy smile lifted my entire soul.

I giggled. "I'll get you one tomorrow, any color preferences?"

"Gray. I'm sure everything will turn out okay."

I turned on my side to look at him.

"I hope so. You know, V, you may be my new favorite." I yawned.

"Good, I like the crazy ones."

We both let out tired laughs.

"Call me Tae." He whispered.

"Okay, Tae. Call me, N/n. Nightie night."

( Previous Chapter ) - ( Next Chapter )

#bts fanfic #bts yandere au?#bts reader insert #kpop bts #bts angst #bts fluff #bts x reader #v x reader #v x you #bts reactions #bts ot7 #Impulsive Decision

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intergalacticrp · 7 years ago

Photo

NAME :// JIHYUN ‘V’ KIM ORIGIN :// MYSTIC MESSENGER AGE :// TWENTY-SEVEN JOB :// PHOTOGRAPHER, RFA MEMBER FC :// YOO TAEYANG

We keep this love in a photograph We made these memories for ourselves Where our eyes are never closing Our hearts were never broken

BIOGRAPHY ://

Jihyun often wonders about the purpose behind his life. The good, the bad, the unnecessary, the unforgettable.

His father and mother had met once upon a time at one of her concerts. He was the only one charismatic enough to support her music endevours and likewise she publicly supported his businesses. It was a quick fix to both their issues. Daeshim Kim found a way to promote his businesses, and Hae-ri An found someone to get her parents off her back when it came to her personal life.

It was convenient enough for both of them, and no love was lost-if there was any to begin with. Jihyun was a planned birth. Daeshim wanted an heir for his ever growing company and Hae-ri didn’t think too much of it so long as she could play her music. It was a win-win situation for both.

Neither of two foresaw the accident which would cause Hae-ri to lose her hearing at eight months pregnant. Neither foresaw the depressive slump she would feel once it became apparent she could no long play her violin. Neither foresaw the struggle she would have coping with the sudden loss of her sense.

The divorce however was foreseeable.

Daeshim was appalled at his wife’s behavior, her depression, her loss of will, her loss of communication. It was nothing fitting for the wife of Daeshim Kim. Their divorce was quiet, quiet as could be with the paparazzi in their faces, and Daeshim was left with custody of their son, Jihyun.

Jihyun grew up away from his mother. The only thing he really knew of her was that his dad was previously married and that was it. No picture or any remaining memory was left in the house he grew up in. Only the words of Daeshim to go off of; she was bad and unnecessary in his life. His father had a strict upbringing when it came to raising Jihyun wanting the boy to follow in his footsteps, despite that the two were very close at this point in time.

Jumin was a pleasant surprise, but never an unwanted one. The two were neighbors living in the same neighborhood. Though their friendship happened by chance- Jumin Han crashing his car into the side of Jihyun’s house while he was playing. Who knew a bond so strong would’ve come from a tiny Han asking if Jihyun wanted compensation for the damages and Jihyun-tiny but lonely-asked Jumin be his friend instead.

He grew up under his father’s thumb, though as he grew older the lifestyle planted onto him became more restricting and suffocating. What was once a close relationship, became tense and difficult. There was something missing in his life, but could not pinpoint it for what it was. Despite his grades and accomplishments in school all pointing to him having the skill set to becoming a great business man like his dad, the thought depressed him more than it did encouraged him. Secretly, Jihyun became more and more interested in the arts liking the freedom and expression behind it. Though never trying anything for fear of how his father would react.

It was during his teen years that Jihyun finally met his mother. Though it was only through Jumin’s encouragement that he reached out to connect with her, but she was the missing the piece. She offered him freedom, expression, and motherly love, even if he was reluctant about it all in the beginning. She encouraged him to explore the arts, an opportunity he never thought he would have, showing the utmost support, especially after he admitted to her one day he dreamed of becoming a painter instead.

Their relationship took a turn for the worse when Hae-ri submitted one of his pieces in an art competition, resulting in Jihyun tearing up the only artwork he ever created at the time and distancing himself from his mother once more.

Neither of the two thought that would be their very last interaction as only a month later she would die saving him a fire that broke out in his home. Her death would traumatize him deeply, regretting to this day how he treated his mom.

It was her death that made Jihyun decide to pursue art instead, chipping away whatever relationship he had with his father at that point. Unable to bring himself to hold a paintbrush, let alone paint, he found comfort and passion in photography. His natural artistic skills brought him recognition in college, and lead him to becoming a big name in the photography industry under the pseudonym, V.

Meeting Rika was like fate, the two connecting almost instantly upon meeting at one of his exhibitions. She saw the core of his photographs, the emotions and depth behind them, and he in turn saw the depth and emotions of her soul.

Their love was passionate and could be felt by anyone around them. But how could V not love such a bright, and selfless soul like Rika? Rika who was his sun, his light. He became more and more enamored with her as he continued to learn about her, the more he continued to be with her.

She had a heart bigger than her own that she gave and gave and gave to anyone who was near. Selfless, reliable, kind. It was through her big heart, the two found a pair of twins who needed some light in their lives. V ended up finding an out for Luciel, who had only the best intentions if it meant saving his brother, through the means of taking an undisclosed job at a rather private company. Though it pained him to separate the two, V knew that in the long run this was the best decision as they could only save one twin at a time. Though he knew Luciel only took the job due to his own promise of looking out for his twin and keeping him safe.

Eventually Rika proposed the creation of an agency whose sole purpose was to fundraise money for charities and good causes. Well, how could he say no to that? That began the establishment of the RFA, Rika’s Fundraising Association. It was through the RFA, V ended up finally getting a family, the people closest and dearest to him. Jumin, Luciel, Yoosung, Zen, Jaehee, a wonderful bunch who helped support a wonderful cause.

Picturesque as things were, behind the scenes, things were beginning to fall apart. The closer he and Rika got, the more and more he became acquainted with the darkness inside her. The face she hid behind became more and more the face she work, the bright smiles she shared became tense and tired. V learned she lacked love in her life, and remembering his mother, was determined to give her the same selfless love he received-so he proposed to her.

Their love became dangerous, unhindered, unstable. Rika began to demand more and more of him, and V, well, he could never say no to her. Whatever consequences, whatever he needed to do to prove to her he loved her. He would do it. If that meant he had to break himself over and over and over, so be it. V was going to be the one to save her. The breaking point of their love though was Rika creating Mint Eye under the name of Paradise.

She’d done it without his knowing. She’d done it with the intent to convert the RFA first. Terrified and shaken up as he was, he couldn’t let Rika hurt them. Couldn’t let Rika hurt herself like that. So he reached out to her one last time to reconsider. Reconsider it all, reconsider them.

It left V with more lies on his tongue, and a matching set of broken eyes and a broken heart.

Telling the RFA she was dead hurt him more than the scars she left. But he couldn’t bring himself to ruin the image she left on their hearts. No, telling them Rika died was the only way to save them, even if it left them with more questions than answers. It was fine if they doubted him, but he didn’t want them doubting Rika.

V continues to keep up his photography to this day, though his appearances and exhibitions have been on an indefinite hiatus. He wonders each day where does he go from here, where did he go wrong. How can he still save her? How can he still save them? How can he still save everyone? Rika’s death has created rifts between him and the RFA he never thought would ever exist. The thought of telling them the truth is something he’s still in denial about, even with his worsening eyesight.

It is his scars, his burden to bear. He couldn’t save her, and there’s no way he can erase that. But even now, he still keeps an eye out for the darkness around them. He ignored the shadows before, he cannot afford to make the same mistake twice.

AESTHETIC ://

the softest of blues. i’ll be the light to your darkness. flower crowns. unfulfilled promises. you can’t keep everyone safe. polaroid photos. a vintage camera. cloud gazing. mini cactus collector. disconnect from everyone. a closet of all gray. why do you keep choosing their happiness over yours? let her go. memories stored in photographs. paint palettes. a violin’s melody. half agony and half hope. steaming coffee. quiet angel. blurry eyes, blurry world. disconnect from everyone. everything fades to black.

MISC ://

Jihyun comes from a wealthy, but unhappy family. His father was a successful business man while mother was a renowned violinist. Their marriage was out of convenience and didn’t last very long. His father filed for a divorce a few years after Jihyun was born and didn’t let his son see his ex-wife while he grew up.

V and his father were close when he was young, but with time their relationship has grown very distant. His father wanted him to be a businessman, like him, but V had a deep love of the arts, like his mother.

Made a name for himself in the photography world when he was in college.

Rika entered his life at an art exhibition. She was enchanted with his work and V ended up offering her her favorite photo, but she couldn’t accept such a beautiful piece without payment. In the end he decided she could buy him coffee in exchange.

V, more of less, devoted himself to Rika. He was the only person outside her family who knew she was mentally ill. He encouraged her to seek help, but her parents refused to truly acknowledge their adopted daughter’s condition. Rika’s paranoia, depression, anxiety, and psychosis skyrocketed after her dog died. V sent her to therapy, but she stopped going after three weeks.

The fighting began when Rika came up with the idea of joining a cult organization whose goal was to “purify the world - something V objected against. They got into a particularly bad fight after V found out she’d been harming herself and, at a loss for what to do, he offered to let her hurt him instead. She injured and left him with damaged vision.

V lied and told everyone that she’d killed herself to explain her disappearance. It wasn’t a complete lie - the Rika they’d all loved was metaphorically gone - but the lie was to preserve their good memories of her.

His eyesight has progressively been getting worse. He won’t go to a doctor to get a cornea transplant because that would mean revealing what Rika had done to them. That, and because he feels like he deserves it. He couldn’t save her so now he has to suffer.

CONNECTION ://

rika kim : ex-fiance. lied that she committed suicide because the truth was more painful.

jumin han: close childhood friend. wishes he could tell him everything. rfa member.

saeyoung “seven” choi: he’s like a brother to v, or maybe like a son? rfa member.

yoosung kim: strained relationship. v still cares about him a lot. rfa member.

saeran choi: failed to keep him safe.

jaehee kang: jumin’s top secretary. grateful to her for how much she does/puts up with. rfa member.

nathaniel nurtzberg, takeru takaishi, musa melody, & velvet scarlatina: a few people of different artistic professions he’s acquainted with.

AVAILABILITY :// OPEN || TAKEN BY BLAIRE

#jihyun kim #v #mystic messenger #mystic messenger rp #cartoon rp #fandom rp #animated rp #sci-fi rp #future rp #skeleton rp #semi appless rp #literate rp #new rp #rpg #space rp #male #yoo taeyang #taken #tm

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ladysnausages · 8 years ago

Text

Where There’s Smoke _ C1

Note: I have risen from the ashes! I have been born anew! I shouldn’t be doing this but I have been in such a funk lately that I couldn’t help myself. I needed to break back into the writing scene and this has kind of been swirling around my head a lot in recent months. (Just bear with me regarding my other stories. They have NOT been abandoned. They are simply taking a breather…a very long breather.)

Hope you enjoy it this little adventure!

Pairing: NaLu

AU ~ bodyguard/heiress

Cover photo courtesy of @fainttwinkling

Summary

Lucy, a cynical heiress, longs to find meaning in life. At a party, she meets Natsu, a strange man who drags her into a world she never knew existed and never expected to be a part of. Greed, espionage and organized crime, it becomes a three way battle for her life -- one to kill her, one to exploit her and one to save her.

Chapter Links

C1 C2 C3 C4

Where There’s Smoke

Chapter 1

Serendipity

Lucy had grown to hate parties.

Nothing about them was entertaining for her. Not the dancing, not the environment, and certainly not the company. All her life she had been forced to attend them and when she was not at them, she had to rehearse for them. Lucy was required to always be presentable and ladylike, especially when the upper echelons of society were present. Wealthy businessmen, lobbyists, politicians, even high ranking military officials – Heartfilia events was a breeding ground for corruption and pretension. The upper crust of society was the underbelly of humanity. Every part of it abhorrent.

At least, she consistently reminded herself, there was always the alcohol to make it a little more bearable, especially for moments such as these.

Lucy kept the practiced smile firmly in place as she listened to the man before her continue to boast about his fortune, as if it were truly something that would charm her. Lucy Heartfilia, heiress to the Heartfilia Conglomerate and its subsequent capital, could not be impressed by riches. She had been drowning in them her entire life. And people were constantly trying to appeal to her with things, never with thought. Despite existing amongst such a sea of such bottomless wealth, she never understood how they were all so shallow.

She held a hand up, halting the conversation he was having with himself. “I’m terribly sorry but I really must entertain the other guests as well.”

He was flummoxed at her blasé attitude as she politely removed herself. If she offended any of her father’s potential business deals she would never hear the end of it from him. So she consistently had to be mindful of how she spoke to people, especially at these events. As much as they seemed a way to mingle and relax, it was simply a business meeting that served too much alcohol. Her father preferred it that way, so that he could get clients’ spirits high and shake a couple extra hundred thousand out of them. And if they tried to backpedal, he would come after them, teeth bared and claws out, and in the end get even more. The only thing greater than her father’s wealth was his hunger for more. A completely shameless avarice.

She could not fathom why and how people put up with his aggressive and manipulative tactics but being tied to the Heartfilia name was an automatic seal for success. Most were content throwing themselves into the fray at the cost of a metaphorical limb and literal dignity. Though the one she was born into, it was never meant to be a life for her.

“Lucy, darling!”

The shrill voice interrupted her thoughts and she instinctively reverted into her gracious heiress poise. It was nearly impossible for her to make it three steps without being stopped by someone, whether she knew them or not was a different story all together.

She recognized the woman. She could count the times she had spoken to her on one hand though. “Mrs. Ryuzetsu, how nice to see you.” Her and her husband owned the ever popular resort Ryuzetsu Land that were scattered across Ishgar. She was nice enough but the few times she had spoken to her, the conversations always went the same way. It irked her.

“Oh, please. You can call me Lani.” She waved her off. “Are you engaged yet? You know, my Evan is still single and thinks very highly of you. Why not give him a call sometime soon? He would be simply elated to hear from you. Just last month, he purchased—” She kept talking but Lucy tuned it out.

This happened often. She was frequently getting marriage proposals from men she did not know and attempts to be setup by overbearing mothers she did not like. At the ripe age of twenty-four, Lucy was Fiore’s most eligible bachelorette. Her relationship status was a hot topic for the high society, highly scrutinized and hotly debated – thinking that it would be in her best interest to marry soon before she hits the undesirable age of 30.

Many of her so called suitors acted as if she were a prize to be won and displayed. It was the last thing Lucy wanted to be treated like – an object, left to be shielded from anything and anyone. Only meant to be bragged about and looked upon, never truly touched or cherished.

It was nauseating to think about. But if there were one kind thing she could say of her father, it was that he had the decency to never force her to marry anyone. Granted, he still wanted her to find someone that would suit his interests as well but she gladly accepted this one and only kindness from him. Perhaps he understood that this would be the final act to push her away entirely and he figured the risk wasn’t worthy the reward.

Lani had finally taken a breath. “So what do you think? I can call him for you right now.” She was already opening her clutch to grab her cell phone.

“Oh, Mrs. Ryuzetsu, my father is waving me over. Do excuse me.” She stepped away quickly before she got trapped in another conversation she did not want to be a part of.

She wove through the throngs of people, nodding and smiling her greetings but not stopping for anyone. It was time for her to take a break, find some silence and space and just be alone. She would have to sneak past security because whoever she told would insist on following her wherever she went. Something about them not wanting to leave an heiress to a multibillion dollar corporation alone. She was flippant about that argument. It did not concern her either way when all she wanted was to breathe fresh air in a quiet place.

Walking up to the security guarding her ideal escape route, she motioned for him to lean in and pointed a finger in a general direction. “Excuse me but I believe there is a gentleman vomiting in the topiary over there.”

With an exasperated eye roll and sigh of disapproval, he nodded and walked past her, alerting his team of a temporary vacancy at his sector. She had seen enough of such shenanigans at these events to know, especially of her own detail, that this would leave a brief window of an unattended exit and an opportune moment.

Lucy left the main hall, slinking through the door unseen, the guests too absorbed in conversations and alcohol to notice. Upon rounding the corner she immediately felt the air around her lift, no longer thick and stifling from the innumerable guests crowded into one room. She continued her escape, desperate to be free from an updo too tight, a gown too suffocating and a smile too forced. The majority of the staff were preoccupied with entertaining the guests so a fair portion of the mansion would be empty and it was the perfect moment for her to take break from everything.

She tugged at the pins that bound her hair, expertly loosening her confined tresses. Even with such a simple thing she already felt exponentially better. She sighed in relief as she walked out onto the balcony, resting against the intricate balustrade.

“The things I would give to get out of here,” she whispered to herself as she closed her eyes, letting the crisp night wind dance across her skin. She leaned her head back, dark eyes opening to observe the sea of stars above her.

She longed for independence and every time she looked to the stars she felt that same pull, desperately wanting to break free and fly across the sky, go where no one could stop her.

It was with her mother, fifteen years ago, that she first saw a shooting star. And it was in that moment that she fell in love with them. Her and her mother would spend entire nights with them, finding constellations, making up new ones and waiting for another shooting star. It had become their little freedom. They had been her fondest memories and her mother was her best friend.

Her mother fell ill soon after. It was sudden and aggressive. And even with all the financial assets and the world’s finest doctors, there was nothing that could be done.

They never did get to see that second shooting star together.

In only one year, her mother had succumbed to her illness. And her father, though never particularly forward with his emotions, grew more distant and irritable and buried himself deeper within his work. Lucy had become neglected and the only time he had for her was to tell her to get out. It did not take long before she stopped trying to reach out to him.

Alone and heartbroken, Lucy again found herself looking to the stars for help, for answers and for companionship. What had always made her so happy though now only seemed to be a bearer of sorrow. And to this day that bittersweet air was always lingering when she looked to the sparkling night sky.

“I’m still waiting for your help, you know.” She whispered, praying her words would not be lost in that vast abyss that housed them. As she had done so many nights before, she patiently waited for their response.

“What are you doing out here all alone?”

Lucy yelped and quickly spun around, startled by the unwelcome visitor. “Wha-what are you doing here?” She snapped, glaring at the strange man, silently observing him. He was tall, muscular. “My bodyguards will realize I’m missing in about three minutes.” It was a bluff.

“Wait, hang on.” He held his hands up and took a small but noticeable step back. “Nothing like that, just got a little lost on my way to the john.”

“Yes, clearly.” She deadpanned, relaxing slightly. She still refused to take her eyes off him. He didn’t look like a traditional guest and she was curious who or what he was affiliated with. His hair was an unkempt mess and he wore no tie, the top two buttons of his black dress shirt undone. The worn scarf that was draped over shoulders wasn’t something typically paired with a fancy suit but strangely worked, as if it were a part of himself. An eccentric millionaire was her guess. “Go back the way you came and make a right. There’s an usher who can point you in the right direction.”

“Thanks,” he smiled at her. A little too enthusiastically she thought, considering the nature of their conversation. But years of seeing fake smiles and rehearsing her own she could see, plain as the one on his face, that it was genuine.

And without realizing or expecting it, she found herself smiling back at him. “This area is technically off limits so you should head back before they throw you out.”

“Ah, that’s why it’s so empty.” He turned back to the double doors that lead to the balcony, hands on his hips and nodding in understanding. He’s odd. She thought. “Well that makes sense.” Lucy blanched, worried that she said it aloud but he grinned at her over his shoulder, the same way he had just seconds ago. “I’ll head back and stay out of trouble.”

He was only three steps away before he turned around, stopping arm’s length away from her. He held a hand out. “By the way, I haven’t introduced myself. My name is Natsu.” He smiled. “Natsu Dragneel.”

She lifted her hand to his, delicately, as she had been trained to do. “Lucy Heartfilia.” She waited for him to kiss it, as they always did, or for him to try smooth talk her, as they always did , or both, as most did – especially after learning her name.

But he did neither.

Instead, he grimaced, confusion contorting his face. He awkwardly grasped her fingers and shook her hand. “Okay then.” He said simply. “Nice to meet you, Lucy. You’re kind of weird.”

“What?” Lucy shouted, abandoning all decorum that had been ingrained in her since childhood. This man was utterly incorrigible and hopelessly clueless. “You come wandering over here with that lame bathroom excuse and you have the audacity to call me odd?”

“Weird.” He corrected.

“Whatever!” She spun around quickly, crossing her arms over chest and muttering frustrations to herself.

“Being weird isn’t a bad thing.” He stepped forward and leaned his arms against the balustrade, looking up at the stars the same way she had been minutes ago. “I mean, doesn’t it just mean you’re unique? Like all those stars up there. They’re all different. I am, you are, Jimmy working the valet is. So don’t worry too much about someone calling you odd.”

She smiled, hands finding their way to the cold stone next to his arms. “Weird.”

“Whatever.” He mimicked.

They stood in comfortable silence just a few minutes and for the first time in a long time that lingering sadness had lifted and she could truly enjoy the twinkling lights above her. She hoped that this feeling would never her leave again. After years of being without it, she had long forgotten the way the happiness they brought her felt like. And now she could not bring herself to separate from its embrace.

“I should head back, it’s probably about time to get moving anyway.” He eventually said.

“Ah, yes, of course.” She realized in that moment that if he were to go back in now, he would be in quite a bit of trouble for entering a restricted area. “There will likely be a guard already of the door. If he gives you trouble, just say I invited you out here.”

“They won’t believe that.” He said knowingly.

“Right,” she laughed. She took a moment to think of something only she would be able to tell someone. If they were going to get upset at anyone it could be her, it wasn’t as if they could actually punish her. They will just give her the usual spiel of the dangers of walking around unattended. “Just say ‘Miss Spetto won’t like you picking on Lucy’s friends’ and that should work.” None of them would want to get on Miss Spetto’s bad side so she figured it was the most effective way to deter them. Natsu proved to be of no harm to her so she figured she would help him out.

He chuckled. “Got it, thanks.”

She politely dipped her head, a silent acceptance of his thanks.

Natsu pushed himself back, walking to the empty hallway. “Oh, one last thing before I go,” he announced. She rolled her eyes but acknowledged. “I would recommend you not drink anymore tonight. You reek of booze.”

Her face burned. “What is with you?” She yelled as he scampered off, leaving her alone once again. Her anger was shallow and short lived. She had enjoyed their little bantering but she had no clue how to respond, she just reacted. It was a foreign experience, not having to tiptoe around a conversation and talk with a feigned graciousness. She was able to be herself, not the Lucy everyone expected her to be. And never had she encountered such a peculiar man. Another testament to just how sheltered she was. “He is so weird.” She whispered through an exasperated smile.

With a resigned sigh, she walked back to the main hall, prepared to plunge herself back into the fray.

#fairy tail #ft fanfics #nalu #natsu dragneel #lucy heartfilia

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mo-mo-and-porkchop · 8 years ago

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Freedom is a state of mind

Vikings Fan Fiction

Chapter 1

Warnings: language, slavery, violence, disability

*I do not own any part of the Canon Vikings characters. It is simply my interpretation. I make no profit off of this.

**I do own the original characters and everything associated with them.

gif credit: google search

((This is my first attempt at this. Hope you enjoy. A special thanks to @ragnarsscn for help with the inspiration for this work.))

Icy blue eyes averted everyone as the slave was led through Kattegat along with the rest. A brute of a man slyly paraded them around the village by taking the long way to its center. Her eyes focused on anything and everything. A child kicking rocks, the wind blowing gently against hides strung out to dry, sparks shooting out as the blacksmith perfected his trade. She took it all in so long as she didn’t lock eyes with anyone. She clung to the hope that they would pass her over if she looked overly timid.

In truth, she was terrified. She pleaded silently to whomever was listening to spare her for the next place. She would be grateful for anywhere. Anywhere other than here. Than Kattegat. After what they’d done to her people she couldn’t bear it if she ended up among its residents.

They came to a stop in the middle of a bustling square. Merchants were scattered all around. All slinging exotic wares to anyone who would buy. She watched, lost in the details of the market.

A second beastly man eyed each and every girl, top to bottom, before going back through a second time. “Ivar!“ he shouted as he crossed his arms in front of him. His chest heaved deeply as he stood in front of all the slaves.

The prince paid him no attention at first. The axe in his hand wasn’t quite sharp enough. He slowly scraped his thumb against the blade’s edge. Almost ready.

“Come and help me decide which one will be…useful,” he said with a glance back over his shoulder at the prince, a hint of lust in his tone.

Ivar laughed to himself almost angrily. Out of all of Ragnar’s sons, he as the least equipped for such a decision. Hvitserk or Ubbe would have been much more beneficial to the man. But with both preoccupied, Ivar was left to deal with matters he had no interest in. He let the axe drop and hang loosely in his hand.

“Why would I want to help you find out which one to make your whore, hmm?” he asked sarcastically.

“Surely a King’s son can tell which one will be the most fun,” he said with a chuckle.

“Why don’t you let your prick decide,” he added motioning toward him with a smirk.

He laughed heartily and turned back to the merchandise, waving him over. Hoksuld was still flying high after another successful raid. It was a shame he couldn’t have convinced Ragnar to tag along. He would have relished in the fight. And, if any of his former self still lived, would have loved the women. But the king had had more pressing matters to attend to. Preparing not only for his own journey, but for his eldest son’s first trip to the unknown was enough to fill his plate. Hoksuld and his brother had only barely made it back to see him off.

Ivar sheathed his axe and slid from his stool. The gravel beneath him gave way, leaving a trail as he drug himself closer. Fear trickled through her veins as she stood waiting with the rest. Her eyes desperately searched for something to look at, but they ultimately fell to him. The blood flowing through her veins turned to ice. The permanent scowl he wore intimidated even the most seasoned warrior. She could feel the electricity in the air as he made his way toward them. Everything about him exuded an overwhelming intensity that left her begging even more fiercely to be passed over.

“I hear you are going to England with your father,” Hoksuld said as Ivar pulled himself up on a nearby rock. “Why not choose one to bring along. Entertainment when the nights become long and lonesome,” he explained further.

Ivar huffed. “I don’t need entertaining,” he said with a scowl as he looked each one over. In truth, nearly all of them were enticing. He imagined the possibilities as his eyes made their way up and down each one. Even Hvitserk would have blushed at some of the scenes flashing through his mind. But he had no use for that manner of fun. Even if he wanted to, he couldn’t satisfy any of them. And one more failed attempt at sleeping with a woman would just bring his secret closer to revelation. Something he couldn’t have.

“Then a gift,” Hoksuld said with a slight bow toward the prince. “To offer my wishes for safe travels for you and Ragnar. Despite what everyone else think of your father, I know he is a great warrior. You will have great success on your journey. When that happens, maybe then you will want some fun,” he added with a smirk. “Go on,” he said with a open handed gesture at the lineup. “Have your pick.”

The prince rolled his eyes and concentrated on each one. A few pursed lip expressions along with some grimaces were the only inclination he was actually doing as the man instructed. Her eyes quietly watched as he went from girl to girl. Hoksuld kept his eyes trained on the ones he wished for himself. The girls dutifully flirting silently back. All three paying no attention to the young prince or his obvious act of interest. Slowly Ivar’s gaze came to her, momentarily catching hers. Immediately her eyes fell to the ground beneath his feet.

‘Not me. Not me. Not me.’ she pleaded silently.

His eyes narrowed, head tilting to watch her more intently. Something was different about her. She showed her fear, yet her strength still seemed to be fighting for control. He glanced back through the girls before returning to her. While the others tried their best to attract the more wealthy buyers, she kept herself still. There was no seductive shifting of her body. No attempt to prove her ability to work. She did nothing of the sort which made him wonder why. This one was definitely not like the rest.

Ivar’s eyes stayed trained on her as he spoke. “This one,” he said pointing her way. Her brow furrowed with disappointment with the gesture. “You can have your fill of the rest, but this one is mine.”

Hoksuld close the small gap between them and took all of her in. “Are you sure?” he asked leaning in to Ivar slightly. “She is timid. Certainly you would prefer one of the more lively girls.”

“Are you saying I can not choose my own servant?” he asked with a glare upward at Hoksuld.

The man’s smile faltered and he took a step back. “I would never question your abilities,” he said quietly. He kept his gaze locked with Ivar’s to convey his apology for the unintentional misstep. “Timid mouse it is,” he said bringing back his jovial nature.

He motioned to the seller which three girls he wanted, Ivar’s request included. The seller untied them, compensations traded, and they were freed. Momentarily. Her eyes stayed glued to the ground, dampened as realization that this was home washed over her. She jumped when a small sack was shoved into her arms along with the others. The meager belongings she’d accrued since her capture at in her arms as she waited for a cue to move. Her understanding of their language was limited, having only heard it when her country had been raided. Even now she still understood very little.

When the man began to lead the girl’s away, she followed. “You are not mine,” he said turning back to her. Her confusion was evident. He took her shoulders and spun her back toward the cripple. “You belong to Ivar Ragnarsson,” he aid into her ear, pointing his way.

Her eyes widened slightly. She clung to her bag. Ivar terrified her. Something about him was different. He was a cripple, but he commanded respect. Exuded power. Usually a cripple was deemed unworthy and killed off as an infant or tenderly cared for until their premature deaths. Never had she seen one so defiant and independent despite his difficulties. Ivar was like no other northman.

The young woman glanced back over her shoulder, watching as the trio left them alone. Her gaze slowly returned to Ivar. He stayed sitting, a sly grin plastered across his lips, just staring at his new servant. After a few tense moments of silences he slid to the ground once more and took off. “Fylgja.” When she didn’t follow as ordered, he stopped. Twisting to rest on his hip he found her glued in place. “Fylgja,” he said once more, this time with a mocking gesture of walking done with his fingers.

Her feet instinctively moved. The steps left footprints inside his own trail as she followed along behind him. She took in everything around them as they walked. The city was large. Resident and traveler alike bustled through its streets. Some with baskets full of wares. Others preoccupied with their daily tasks. Every once in a while she caught a pitiful glance their way. Those that fell solely to Ivar were laced with fear which made hers intensify. Cripple or not, she could not grasp why he warranted such a response from them. She felt the same fear and intimidation his presence offered, but had no clear understanding as to why.

She held on to her belongings even tighter as the stares continued. Her gaze dropped to the ground, avoiding the stares and whispers as they passed, until coming to the Great Hall. Slowly they lifted upward, taking in every detail. From the base of the stairs to the crossing point at the roof’s tip. It was both magnificent and terrifying at the same time. Her eyes lingered on the hall’s embellishments as Ivar continued inside.

The interior was even more breathtaking than its exterior. A large fire sat in the center, long and rectangular, burning brightly. Chandeliers of animal horns hung from the rafters, smaller ones along the pillars. Two grand chairs stood to the left of the fire, seated atop numerous pelts covering the floor beneath them. Shields and animal bones adorned the ceiling above them. The Hall was wide and open. Every resident would have been able to fit inside if needed. It was a beauty that she could admire all day, an escape from the usual drab walls of her home.

Fear replaced her awe when she once again caught another slave staring at her. The blonde’s eyes never leaving as she made her way through to the back of hall with Ivar. Margarethe knew what Ivar was capable of. She feared for this new girl’s safety. Her eyes silently pleaded with her as she passed; a warning lost as the two disappeared behind the wall.

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vigilante-rpg · 7 years ago

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Here’s the first of our admin auditions which can be used as references and examples of auditions we will be accepting. Jessica will be playing the role of Thalia Winsor, taking the origin “The Sidekick”.

NAME: Jessica

AGE: 27

PROUNOUNS: She/Her

TIMEZONE: GMT

ACTIVITY LEVEL: 7/10. I work full-time so roleplaying is very much a hobby I can fit in between work and looking after the house etc. I can say for certain that most weekdays my time online will be limited to anywhere between 19:00 – 22:00 GMT time. I have weekends off so my activity can pick up more then.

RP EXPERIENCE: A lot of my roleplays are just simply no longer available otherwise I would happily share a link. I think I have sample skeleton bios etc. for roleplays I’ve created but have no character blogs saved. I’ve been roleplaying for 14-15 years now, on multiple different platforms and in many different styles. I’ve done literate, semi, skeleton, original, canon and fandom roleplays. For a while I was an RPH and I’ve even done a newer style of cosplay-roleplaying which can be found on the blog I’m replying from. I’ve been an admin of many different literate roleplays on tumblr for almost 6 years, so I have plenty of experience with this platform and the way roleplaying works here. Literate roleplaying with a focus on character development is my favourite form.

PERSONAL TUMBLR CONTACT: Removed for Privacy

TRIGGERS: Rape, Abortion / Miscarriage, Domestic Abuse are all really big no’s for me. Those subjects bring up memories and feelings I don’t want to be thrown into. Write it if you want, please have it tagged and under a read more so I can be aware of the content. Not so much triggers but things I’d rather be under a read more or clearly tagged; Sexual Scenes, Excessive Gore, Drug Use, Suicidal Thoughts, Self-Harm.

CHARACTER NAME: Thalia Winsor

PRONOUNS: She / Her

AGE: 29

ORIGIN: The Sidekick

FACE CLAIM: Sarah Gadon

QUOTE: “Be the reason someone believes in the goodness of people”

OCCUPATION: Nurse at Sacred Heart Hospital

PERSONALITY:

Compassionate: Thalia is a gentle soul and greatly cares for people. She is greatly sympathetic and tries her best to help those who need it most. Whether it’s in her day to day work as a nurse or just trying to assist those she’s encountered whilst taking to the streets as Nightingale. She is kind and well-meaning in most aspects of her life, the thought of putting herself first when there are those who need it more is one often overlooked. Her compassionate nature will be extended to those who do not deserve it, and will often be taken advantage of – she’s more than likely to give criminals who appear remorseful a second chance, or turn her back in a moment of misplaced trust.

Sincere: She’s honest, sometimes to a fault. If she gives a compliment or opinion it stems from genuine beliefs she holds, equally if she’s critical her words aren’t often softened by sugar coating it. She greatly dislikes those who lie without a guilty conscious and struggles herself to be deceitful. This honest nature has tripped her up on more than one occasion in her efforts to keep her secret identity safe. If she makes a promise she keeps it and often will hold others to the same high standard.

Well Mannered: Soft spoken and polite, she uses dulcet tones and polite compliments to diffuse an otherwise awkward situation. She was brought up with a silver spoon in her mouth and as such was forced to adhere to a strict set of rules surrounding etiquette. This was only enhanced during her training as a nurse and now her bedside manner is impeccable. This will often interfere with her attempts to sound threatening or tough in a sticky situation and only leads to people underestimating her.

Insecure: Thalia would deem her childhood, riddled with moments where she was told she wasn’t good enough, as the main factor in her insecurities. Though in truth Thalia has never helped herself out of the spiral either. She is very self-conscious of both her appearance and achievements in life. The way others perceive her is very important because the way she perceives herself is often very negatively. Whilst her insecurity fuels her worse habits, it is also a one of the main reasons she tries her best to be a good person. This insecurity and need to overcome it will often lead her into more difficult situations, becoming overly defensive or worse. Whilst Nightingale is at least more seemingly confident and in control, deep down the same worries plague the Vigilante.

Passive: Thalia is non-confrontational to an extreme fault. When flight or fight kicks in she will almost always run away from a situation. This carries over into less extreme moments of her life too; failing to stick up for herself, people pleasing, resenting those more assertive and bottling up feelings in favour of ensuring others aren’t hurt. When Nightingale’s mask is on she finds a different strength within herself, one not hindered by the concern of what others may think. Whilst she will not be the first to run into the fray, and will always try to seek a more peaceful resolution, Nightingale isn’t afraid to defend herself. Her main focus is always keeping others safe and helping them, finding an offensive partner to work with only further benefits her fighting style.

Envious: Thalia is often resentful of those who have what she does not. Whether it’s a happy family unit, the attention of someone she is attracted to or the ability to be assertive or fight when the moment calls for it without the need to hide behind a mask... Whilst she often admires the good traits in others she also finds herself dwelling on them too, wishing she herself could hold them. Her insecurities are fed by her envious nature and the vicious cycle continues to battle on behind her pretty smile.

BIOGRAPHY: Thalia was born and raised in Newhaven’s more affluent district, attending only the finest schools in the area and leading a life that many would deem a dream. However paying for schools and keeping a roof over her head was where the generosity ended as neither her mother nor her father were the affectionate type. Between her overly critical, cold mother and harsh, calculating father her relationship with them is strained at best. Her parents were wealthy and successful enough to indulge in a number of different business ventures, leading to a network of connections across the city. Everyone who was anyone attended the Winsor Manor on more than one occasion, and Thalia couldn’t wait for the moment she was able to leave.

Her studio apartment, luxurious by most standards, is a far cry away from the white panelled manor back in Downtown Newhaven that she called home for most of her life. In truth she had never felt more right than the moment she took a job at BuzzNews and the keys to the tiny apartment, much to her parents disapproval. Working at the media company enabled her to pay for her studies without relying on her parents funding and the independence she’d earned made it all the more satisfying upon graduation. It was during her time as a student nurse that Thalia first tapped into her powers.

Whilst the patients she visited and helped tend to were recovering, she had no reason to suspect it was anything other than the medicine the doctors had prescribed. One morning she was carrying out the morning rounds, her first stop of the day was with an elderly gentlemen known well by the nurses and doctors alike in the ward. He was a terminal case, or so they thought. One gentle pat on the shoulder from Thalia as she moved to fluff his pillows and ask about his night’s sleep and his eyes lit up. He removed the breathing apparatus, much to her horror, and looked around the room as shocked and bewildered as she did. Despite the blaring alarms alerting the staff to the worst, the man was completely fine and healthy. The tests over the next 3 days confirmed the impossible. He was cured and on the mend.

Her studying was not hindered by the incident with many chalking it up to nothing short of a miracle she had the unfortunate luck to be witness to, and Thalia continued her work placement at Sacred Heart Hospital which eventually led to her job prospect following graduation. Thalia wasn’t satisfied by the explanation of others however, and began to experiment whenever possible. Her studies only enabled her to understand and use her powers more effectively, growing in confidence with every patient she helped.

Thalia’s first night as a Vigilante had been an unexpected one. She’d never meant to get caught up in a robbery at the local corner store and she’d certainly never set out to have her evening tainted by the robber opening fire on the innocent store clerk. The fact she ran towards the injured man surprised her greatly, but at least it was intentional. Thalia had been too busy consumed with thoughts of saving him to notice Spectrum’s arrival until after the blinding assortment of colours that announced it. Between him catching the robber turned gunman and her healing the store clerk, everything worked out fine. Instead of turning her in to the police and making her abilities known, Spectrum sent Thalia on her way home and out of trouble. From there their companionship started.

At first it was short visits from Spectrum requesting healing after a particularly bad fight, and then it was him asking if she’d mind tagging along just in case – with the promise he’d keep her protected – within a year she’d found a mask of her own to wear when going out alongside Spectrum. Never often enough to be called a hero, but enough times to be cited his sidekick. Thalia didn’t think she was worthy of being called even that, but Nightingale longed for recognition of her own. When Spectrum left she had a choice before her; to hang up the mask or to go at it alone. Thalia’s still uncertain as to whether or not she’s making the right one.

VIGILANTE NAME: Nightingale

PRONOUNS: She / Her

APPEARANCE: Nightingales true identity is hidden beneath a slim and simple light blue Venetian mask, covering her eyes and nose but keeping the rest of her face on show. Her short blonde hair is usually swept backwards by the mask but almost always down. Her outfit consists of a light blue bodysuit deep v-neck top, with cold shoulder and waist cutouts, that finishes at the elbows. With a mid-thigh length, blue and white skirt to match. The white bird sigil rests over the left side of the chest and her hands are kept free so she can use her power without hindrance. Her white ankle boots are low heeled to make running around much easier for the vigilante. Exposed skin is a must for her, as her powers only work with direct contact.

SIGIL: A white bird symbol with open wings with blue shadowing over top. Sketchy lines and blocky, clearly hand drawn.

COLOUR SCHEME: White, Grey, Light Blue, Blue. Hex Codes; #8890c0 #e3e5f5 #f8f8f8

FIGHTING STYLE: Nightingale works best when part of a team, focusing mainly on supporting the offensive partner and keeping them in top shape. When fighting alone she does so best up close and personal as her powers relying on her close proximity and ability to touch.

CLASS TYPE: Support

POWER: Healing Touch & Illness Inducement.

Thalia can heal most superficial wounds, both fresh and old, on others with a simple touch as well as illnesses & diseases over a prolonged time. Through touch the diagnosis of any damage or illness can be detected in others. Thalia also has the ability to absorb another’s pain and endure it so they do not have to.

She is able to heal broken bones, cure symptoms of poison or life threatening injuries if she is given enough time to do so. Her knowledge of healthcare and the human body greatly aids her abilities. She cannot selfheal in any capacity, any injury she sustains or illnesses she encounters are things she cannot cure for herself like she can for others.

Her illness inducement is much less controlled and also heavily relies on skin-to-skin contact like her healing ability. Whilst she can control when to harm instead of heal, and she can will the general status of the illness, she has varied control on how damaging this is. Thalia could mean to simply make someone feel nauseous and instead given them a stomach bug. This illness inducement can range from giving headaches or numbness to making someone impotent, violently ill or otherwise.

Please delegate 9 points between the following three stats for your character. If the origin you’re applying for has a bonus or debuff on any of the below, adjust the total as required.

OBSCURITY: 4/5

CONTROL: 3/5

LUCK: 3/5

Please delegate 28 points between the following eight stats for your character. If the origin you’re applying for has a bonus or debuff on any of the below, adjust the total as required.

STRENGTH: 2/5

SPEED: 3/5

CHARISMA: 3/5

INTUITION: 4/5

AGILITY: 5/5

STAMINA: 3/5

INTELLIGENCE: 4/5

DURABILITY: 3/5

HEADCANONS:

Dancing Queen - Thalia has always been an avid fan of dancing, whether it be basic ballroom, jazz or something more contemporary. Since moving out from her parents estate she’s had the opportunity to sign up to various classes in her free time to expand her passion instead of sticking to the instructors they’ve approved. On the rare nights she goes out, it’s usually with the intention to find a fun place to go dancing and have fun, like Fuze.

Sleeping Beauty - Working at a hospital & a life of crime fighting often leads to a wonky sleep schedule and Thalia always had a tendency to sleep until noon on her days off long before her time in scrubs. She’s a heavy sleeper naturally and often unhappy to be woken up for anything short of an emergency. If she’s not at work or at the dance studio, one can assume she’s either in a mask or sound asleep in bed.

Alcohol Intolerance – Thalia dislikes the smell of scotch and whiskey as it reminds her of her father and she’s just simply never enjoyed the taste of alcohol when partaking herself. Her aversion to drinking has only been bolstered by the fact she’s often drunk one glass in, and no one enjoys embarrassing themselves at the start of an evening. Nightingale has a history of reacting harsher to any criminal with alcohol on their breath, those are the ones she’ll target in a fight and leave worse off.

ADDITIONAL INFORMATION: N/A

#accepted #accepted audition #audition #audition example #admin audition

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