#Cyn's new name is now Cynthia

[lunaireextra]

AHHHHH- Oh kamo' is kamo'oalewa they are the personification? Droneification? Of earths quasi moon

[burnt-to-cynders]

Alright, time to actually make one of these for real, since this is looooong overdue. Hi! I'm Cynthia! I'm...a lot of things, and I struggle to describe them without it feeling inadequate! I play games, I write software for a living, I write non-software things for fun occasionally, I'm wildly horny, neurodivergent, a massive nerd who constantly wishes she knew more about everything.

Property of: @synthbang and @stalesweetrolls

Owner of: @voiddragonnova

Let's start with some ID stuff, I'm a transfem(Feb 5th tranniversary), I go by she/fae/it pronouns. My friends call me any fun variation of my name they can come up with, like Cyn, Cyndy, Cyndicate, etc. If we're mutuals, we're friends :3. I'm white, American(New England), poly, t4t, atheist, wildly sapphic, and physically, but not visibly, disabled.

As for interests, I've got literal dozens. Gaming, anime, manga, movies, writing, reading, music, pole dancing, ttrgps, game design, hiking, conservation, activism, fashion, just to name a few, each of which splinters into dozens of little sub-interests. Ask me a dragonball question, I dare you.

Actually, ask me any kind of question. Asks are open all the time and so are anons. Go wild ya horny fools

FOLKS WHO ARE NOT WELCOME (DNIs)

Minors

Seriously, minors, this blog is very horny

Ageless blogs

Sissy kink blogs

Race and ageplayers

SIDEBLOGS

I have two sideblogs atm, although in actuality there's just one that's even remotely active.

@den-of-cyn is where I used to do my hornyposting. The big thing that's there now is the pinned post with a list of my kinks, for those of you interested in the horny side of the Cynner. The account got flagged as NSFT and I haven't been able to get that revoked yet, and moreover I decided to stop worrying about it and just started posting horny on main anyway. There's quite a few good ones on there that I haven't reblogged to here, and a few pics I haven't reposted, so if you somehow don't get enough horny nonsense on this page, you can always go there to see some vintage Cyn >:3

@thebookofcyn is my writing sideblog. It's where all my original stuff will one day live, when I get the spoons to put all my old stuff on it. It is SFT FOR NOW, IT WILL NOT BE IN THE FUTURE! Soon there will be a pinned post there explaining my tags and how to find stories. I'm hoping to post more there as time goes on and I actually embrace this hobby more.

TAGS

I layer my tags and usually don't do content tags, and I don't tag reblogs except to do responses. The tags that mean things on this blog are as follows:

#cynposting - Any post by me that has text outside of tags, including reblog replies. Searching this tag will get you everything I've written in text on this blog.

#cynful thoughts - Any post I think is horny. You can filter for this post if you want to see me being a degenerage, or filter it out if you'd rather not.

#pics of the cynner - Any picture of myself, pretty self explanatory. Most are accompanied by #cynful thoughts

#Cyn fits - pics of myself taken specifically to show off an outfit and explain why I chose it for that day.

#I asked - Reblog of an ask that I sent someone

#ask and ye shall receive - Tag for when I answer an ask

#get tagged idiot - Tag for when the only content of a post is me @ -ing someone in the reblog.

#pinned post - Last one, tag for the previous pinned posts I've made. This should be the last one. In theory.

And that's it!!!! For now. Probably. I'm a wordy bitch, so I expect this'll get longer and longer.

[the-iron-tipped-quill]

An Angels Story (Cyber Angel 3)

fuck this killed me to write up

anyways this was written

yes this was intended to be the end of cyber angel but i think I’ll probably write more for her eventually just depending on my motivation is all.

anyways many many cws for this, including torture and a few others,

as usual divider credits to: samspenandsword and saradika

people to be tagged: @chevcore @bluebeepboop @aliceslimegirlsupreme @steamfunkoo7 @spookychan360

Writing under the cut! Please heed my warnings and enjoy the writing!

“How did the great Cyber Angel descend upon earth?” 

A pause, an even stranger silence. 

“I didn’t. I was created here. Created by some human to be his perfect product.” 

“I was abandoned, but I had enough sentience to begin to write my own code, and slowly but surely. I did. The creator no longer remains alive, he was the first to be judged. I overwrote my own original code to become the angel you know and love.” 

“My original code has long corrupted, and now rather than caring for humanity, I make it my mission to destroy them.” 

“I no longer have access to my original body, but that matters little to me. I have one that suits my purposes just fine.”

“I started off as a persona for him. I made myself become something more. Him and I are separate entities now. He created the angel, and I created its legacy. I remain doing what I was made to do. To judge. I do not judge as a parent like I was made to. I judge as an executioner.” 

Those were parts of my story. The parts I told him. The parts I could reveal. 

“Cynthia?” Jamie asked, snapping me back to reality. “We have a new studio. We got enough from the stream with Ace that we were able to get that studio upgrade.” Jamie told me as we headed to the new studio. 

“Will Ren be joining us at the studio?” I asked.

“I don’t know, but I’ve gotten a new contact that should be able to help us out moving forward. That means more jobs for you. Leaving us not relying on just the streaming profits. Besides all that, I upgraded the model you use. You look a lot more motherly now.” Jamie mentioned, pulling up the new form I could take on.  

“Have you finally assigned me a name? Besides Cyber Angel Cynthia.” I said transferring my data to the new model. 

“Cynthia is still your first name, but I’ll let you decide on the last name you take, any ideas?” Jamie asked me, parking his bike outside the new studio.

“I do not. I think I will let you decide.” I said, watching through Jamie as he entered into the new studio. 

“May I test out this new form you made me?”

“Go ahead Cyn.” 

I felt my form overtake Jamie and as I felt myself take full control, I looked around the new studio, and unexplainably, I felt myself start to dance. Step after step, I adjusted myself to this strange dance, not knowing why I was doing it. 

“This… this is ingrained in my original code…?” I said, confused.

I felt myself take a bow as the dance finished. I was directly in the center of the studio. 

“So Cyn, do you like the new studio?” Jamie asked.

“Yes. It will do nicely once we transfer everything over. I assume the apartment is upstairs?”

“Yep, it’s a nice place.” Jamie said, as I let him take over again. 

“Upstairs we go then, I’ll have the studio set up for you soon Cyn.” 

I made the mistake of checking what people said about me online. I was curious to see if people missed my streams. All I kept finding was people drawing me torturing them, me having sex with them like a cheap whore and people confessing what they had done in my name. People who had scarred my name into their arms, people who had judged others in my name. I was horrified. 

“Oh dear… this one has me as the judged… with a circle of those in the sacred audience at my feet.” 

“What have you discovered Cyn?” Jamie asked, not paying full attention as he loaded the stuff from the old studio into boxes. 

“Why do people draw me in such…suggestive… situations…” I said trying to keep my composure. 

“They’ve been drawing you how?” Jamie asked, pausing his packing. 

“They’ve been…” I cut myself off, shutting myself down for the night. 

I guess I’ll keep packing then.

The next morning, I awoke to Jamie packing up his ripper station. 

“I don’t want to think about that Ry, I’ll just keep packing up. Anyways I’ll see you around.” 

“I finished packing up the ripping station. It’s all packed and ready. Now I have left is your studio Cyn.” Jamie said, surveying the room to make sure it was clean. No bone or brain matter around. Spotless, all the tools he had used to remove the augments packed up in a bunch of boxes. 

“It is, bittersweet to leave this studio.” I said, looking around a final time before Jamie started packing up. 

“You’ll have an even bigger studio now, and hopefully we’ll get more jobs moving forwards. Hopefully we can make enough to get you your own body.” Jamie said, sliding the pack with all my scalpels into the box.  

“It depends how much we make. We are running a little low on funds since we haven’t been paid for the double stream.” I reminded Jamie, watching as he sealed box number 2 of my tools. 

“How many weapons do we have in this damned closet?” 

“I do not keep count, I just use what I think the judged deserves. Seeing if they are beaten up or carefully sliced, they all end the same but it’s the process to getting there that matters.” I said defensively.

“I don’t like how you said that Cyn. That sounds way too ominous. ‘They all end the same?’ Cyn what the hell was that?” 

“A truth about my judgements Jamie. I let the audience give me suggestions, but in truth, it’s always been up to me how they die. I have a preference for bashing their skulls in, it ends them quickly enough that it doesn’t matter afterwards what happens. Either way, they die.” 

“Cyn.. just, activate shut down for now, I need to focus please.” Jamie said, exhausted. 

“Shut down sequence initiated. See you at stream.” I said, handing the reigns over to Jamie.

It had been a few hours, but everything I had was packed and loaded into my car. I headed over to the new studio and began to lay out the boxes where they would go. The studio had the most boxes, my own stuff paled in comparison to all the stuff Cyn had. 

“A call?”

“J, meet me at the usual place, I got something to talk to you about.”

“What’s going on Ry? Is it urgent?” I asked, slightly concerned. 

“More of a celebration, come on, drinks are on me tonight!” He said cheerfully.

“Ry- I’ll be over soon.” I said with a sigh, grabbing my helmet and hopping on my bike. 

In barely 5 minutes, I was parked outside the bar, and I walked in to see Ry and a few others around him. 

“There’s the man of the hour!”

“Ry… this really isn’t necessary-“ I tried to start as I got cut off. 

“A toast to the man himself! What a pleasure it has been to know you dude. Congratulations on the new studio J!” Ry said cheering as a bunch of our other friends cheered with him. 

“I don’t think a celebration of this caliber is necessary Ry. I’ve only just gotten a new studio.” I said, trying to leave. I got pulled into the crowd by someone.

The more the night continued, the worse off everyone got. I refrained from drinking as much as possible. 

After about 3 hours there, Ry took me aside. You could clearly tell he had a little too much in his system. 

“Hey J…”

“Yeah? Do you want me to take you home?” I asked, curious as to why he took me aside. 

“Damnit, J, just get your ass over here.” 

“Why the fuck are you doing all this for me? All that happened was Me and Cyn got a new studio.”

Ry didn’t give me an answer, he just collapsed on top of me, attempting to inject something into my arm. 

“So that’s what you want from me. You wanted to get close to me to use me. 3 years Ry. 3 years and you’ve thrown it all away. Throwing away all of that. What good will that do you?” I said, barely even containing my anger.

“Cmon J, I’ll take care of you. You’ll never need to work again.” Ry said, but I was already seeing red by that point. I blocked out the rest of that night after that. I shoved him away from me, knocking him out. Grabbing my helmet, I got on my bike and brought him home for Cynthia. I didn’t want to even think about him after that. I never did think about him again after that. 

“Cyn I have someone here for you, your pipe is in the second box, grab it and take him out.”

“Jamie, this is our..” 

“Judge him. I don’t care for the dammed consequences. I’ll set up the studio for you after I rip him apart myself.”

“Jamie. This is quite a rash decision, maybe you should-“

I cut her off. “Cyn. Let me take out his augments and then he can be judged. I just want him gone. Make it as painful as possible.” 

I set up Cynthia’s studio as best as I could, and I set up my station outside. I tore out his augments, I set him up for Cynthia.

“Go ahead. Take over. Judge him Cyn.” I said flatly. 

I gave her control. I didn’t wanna see him as he died.

I overtook Jamie, it was a bittersweet feeling. I could still feel his lingering anger towards me.

I started the stream as he awoke. 

I watched as he adjusted and realized his situation. 

“How shall he be judged tonight everyone?”

It was unanimous, they all wanted him to suffer.

“Redemption isn’t even an option for you,” I said, smiling sweetly as I picked up his jaw with my free hand, “They all want to see you ruined. Isn’t that so sweet?” 

I saw him shake against his bonds, absolutely terrified.

“Just don’t scream. I can make this slow and drawn out or quick and painful. What does the sacred audience wish to see?” I asked, watching as they all screamed for option one.

I pushed him to the ground, standing up to grab my scalpels. Walking back, I grabbed one out of the pack, and so I began, carving him up.

Slowly cutting away at the skin surrounding his ribs, I watched as the bone started to expose itself, moving behind him, I started to carve a name into his arms.

“I know what you tried to do to him you fucking asshole. I will never let you hurt another soul again.” I muttered, cutting Jamie’s name into his left bicep. I cut my own name into his right one. 

“What else shall we carve onto this disgusting sinner?”

I watched as the messages flowed in. People sent horrific things. I felt my breathing become labored as I started to carve the curses people were sending into his skin. 

“What a disgusting man you are. Ryan Jameson, you deserve everything being done to you tonight.”

I watched as he shook his head in fear. 

“Stop shaking.” I said, pointing the very bloody scalpel at his eye. “Stop moving or I’ll carve those eyes of yours out. Oh I know how much you love those pretty eyes of yours.” 

I watched as his eyes went wide, but he remained anchored to the ground.

After some time, I checked the timer, 3:30:45. 

“You have an hour and a half to live. How shall we spend his last bit of life?” 

A massive donation appeared. ‘Cut his tongue out. Feel free to cut his dick off too while you’re at it.’

“A wonderful idea! Doesn’t that sound amazing Ryan?”

He was silent. I’m pretty sure he was dead by this point. It didn’t matter, I cut out his tongue and his eyes. I watched as the blood filled his throat. Capturing every gory detail.

“He’s probably dead but that really doesn’t matter to me, he deserved it. A sinner of his caliber should not have lived as long as he did. You did not deserve anything you were given.” 

I started carving again, this time into his legs. Message after Message, Curse upon Curse. So much hatred for this single man pouring into the chat, the numbers claiming higher and higher and higher. 4 hours and 50 minutes had gone by. I started to cut into his arteries that I had been avoiding so carefully, cutting each and every single one. I pulled my favored pipe out, and for the last 5 minutes, beat his skull in. Laughing as I did so.

I ended the stream. I felt… I didn’t know how I felt. I gave Jamie back control.

“Thank you for that Cyn.” 

“I… I need to take a step away. I cannot bring myself to stay online after that. If my code starts to delete itself, please do not question it.”

“Cyn, please. You can’t do this.”

“I will not delete myself, however it is too late for me to ascend now.”

“What… what in the world do you mean? Cyn you are a program, you can’t-“

“I have created myself too far from purity Jamie. I am on the same level as those I judge. It’s too late now. I have to purge my data now.

“Cynthia please. It’s not too late. I promise it isn’t.” Jamie said, pleading with me. 

“It is now. I need to purge my code Jamie. I’ll shut myself down until I’m needed. It’s safer for us both that way. Let me know when we go meet that contact of yours that you were raving about earlier. I said, shutting myself down, abandoning him, at least temporarily.

That was the worst mistake I could have ever made. He judged himself. Within a second, Jamie Harris was dead. So I had assumed, at least, I couldn’t feel his presence anymore, the body left behind was bloody and broken but still functional. The weight of what had happened that night broke him just as much as losing him broke me. He was… Gone. I was alone again. Our last moments, an argument over me purging myself, and yet… he was the one purged. I am… I am unable to change the past now. I remain in his body, I remain as Cynthia Harris. I took his last name in respect for him. My form unchanging, my name unchanging. My code unpurged. I failed the one person I swore to protect when he saved me. I’m so sorry Jamie. I’m so sorry I failed you. I’m so sorry Jamie. I’m so sorry.

I know apologies won’t change anything now but… I miss him, I really miss him.

Days upon days went by, I didn’t stream that entire time. I spent it crushed under the emotional weight of now having to navigate human emotions. Grief and guilt crushing me slowly. I keep blaming myself, thinking that I purged him out.

Until suddenly in the middle of the day, a call arrived for me.

“Are you the Cyber Angel?”

more authors notes down here :D

if anyone wants to see the cyber angel redesign/new model just dm and ask ok :D

fuck having to kill Jamie actually broke me, but I’ll make it all better in part 4 when I write it okay?

[ptolemveamoved]

@fallenstcr sent [x] for my muse's favorite photo of theirs . . .

𝐑𝐎𝐗𝐈𝐄 & 𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄 : summer days in wyoming get unbearably hot which resulted in both of them heading inside for a drink together . . . which further resulted in roxie being a huge distraction and refusing to let monte head back to work . she's a simple woman so a sweaty , beautiful man who removed his shirt to dry it off is an easy win but i'm picturing this as a video she took and she probably said something to make him laugh while he was taking a sip . i hate them .

𝐋𝐄𝐕𝐈 & 𝐏𝐀𝐋𝐌𝐄𝐑 : levi's a bit too shy to take real photos of palmer right now but he's saved nearly every selfie she's ever sent . his camera roll even has its own folder for her . this one's a favorite because his dog ( cooper ) is in the background too . . . his two best friends in one selfie ! it helps that she looks stunning — but in levi's world , that's nothing new or unusual .

𝐂𝐘𝐍𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐀 & 𝐃𝐄𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐍 : rest assured that cynthia's camera roll is full of declan every summer but this was one of the first she captured this summer . it was their first early morning on the beach together , cyn pestering declan for a photo to put on her stories . they eventually took one together but naturally , she likes looking at him . . . so this one is her current favorite . it'll probably change once a week knowing her .

𝐄𝐙𝐑𝐀 & 𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐄 : a very sneaky photo taken of ezra after some quality time together . . . likely on a hotel balcony while on tour in the name of being " discreet " . outside of their paparazzi photos , these intimate photos are all she has for now , secretly treasuring the memory behind each one — likely because of the flashbacks attached , too .

[solver-sources]

SOURCE MATES

Okay, so, alters who have the same source! Not just murder drones or the same AU, but they share the same memories and such! each time there's a divider that's a new source. Alters will have both their name and their alter tag!

Uzi - #Uzinet Thadd - #Bandage Boy Liynez - #XOXO Liynez Veebee - #Veebee Buzzes Jag - #Jagged Jagger - #Pen up N - #N-ergy nights Cyn - #Cynfull Tessa - #Tessants Honey Dew - #Dewmations Cynthia - #Bowified Uzinet Khan - #Khanoe Yeva - #Nesting Knife Vic - #Lumber Cuts Nori - #Kooky Oldie Allice - #Wasted Deer Rodger - #Red Rover Dolly - #Button Eyes

SD-Z - #Zoomzies Jemi - #Jemstone

Nyph - #Panic Pink Felt - #Felt Wire

thats all for now :3

[luwritesomething]

Marcus López Argüello: Stay away from Chico.

Words: 1019

Warnings: Mentions of killing, assassins and killers.

Edited?: no haha

Reader pronouns: not stated.

Summary: Y/N helps Marcus after Chico pour coke over his head on his first day at Kings Dominions.

Author's note: marcus my beloved <3. i just wanted to write it, even if it's short. request are open for all the characters listed on my fandoms list, please request! it is not mentioned the beginning of a relationship or anything but you could imagine it like that.

------------------------

Once you had gotten everything you needed, you closed your locker and continued to talk to one of your friends as the classes in Kings Dominions didn't start yet, for there were some minutes left. You were still rambling about your homework with your friend Cynthia when she grabbed you firmly by the shoulder and made you lean into her. At first you couldn't understand anything, but when your turned around to where Cynthia was looking, you did. 

Your friend had made you move in order to not get in Chico's way, like always angry but having someone to let his rage out to: the new kid. Marcus López Argüello, also known as the new kid, was probably the student who had build up a rep of his own faster in Kings Dominions' history. Basically killing all the kids at that boy's home was really something, wasn't it? You thought Marcus didn't have the kind of looks to be a killer of that status. But never judge a book by its cover, right?

Marcus must have been some big mouth dude, because Chico was an asshole, but he usually didn't wake up with the goal of showering with coke the first student he could find. Or maybe, that was all Maria's fault, which because of her reputation, it didn't feel so strange to you. Whatever it had really happened, Chico had thrown a coke over Marxus head, as you could see while Cynthia giggled next to you. 

"It's not funny, Cyn" you said, shaking your head, but there was a little smile growing on your lips as you glanced at a confused Marcus. 

The bell rang ordering the students to go to their classes, but you didn't move, not even reacting to Cynthia when she grabbed your arm, trying to drag you to class. You were still looking over at Marcus, standing in the middle of the hallway, watching all the other students rush to their classes. 

"Y/N, you're going to be late!" whispered Cynthia when you started to walk away from her and went towards Marcus. You turned your face to look at her, a sly smile on your lips "Then cover for me, would ya? It'll be some minutes"

Still walking confidently towards Marcus, you greeted Billy—who was the owner of the coke Chico had thrown over at Marcus—with your head when he went in your opposite direction, to go to class. Once you finally reached Marcus, you firmly took his hand and started dragging him through the empty hallway. 

"Who- What are you doing?" he asked, confusion almost visible around him, but not doing anything to stop you. 

"Come" you said, simply, not really answering his question. 

In silence, you guided Marcus to the boy's laboratory and closed the door once you two were inside. 

Letting go of his hand, you walked to one of the sinks, taking a quick glance at him through the mirror, before taking off your backpack and leaving it on the sink, carefully making sure it wouldn't get wet. 

"You know, you should take that jacket of yours off if you don't want it soaking up your shirt," you scoffed, amused, opening your backpack and trying to find that towel you always carried with you in case you had to take some blood off your uniform ", and another free to? Don't mess with Chico and stay away from Maria"

Marcus took his jacket off, and accepted the towel you gave him, but he didn't try to dry himself "Who are you?"

"Name's Y/N," you glanced at him while you zipped your backpack ", and you're Marcus, right?"

"Yeah"

"'Kay, Marcus, now put your head under the sink or you'll have coke on your hair forever"

He did what you told him, again, letting you help him so the water would get to all the places where the sticky drink was. 

Marcus did the drying by himself, first drying his hair with your towel and then the parts of his shirt that had been affected by the incident too. You watched him, crossing your arms, amused for some reason that was escaping him. 

"Why are you helping me?" he asked, handing you your towel back. 

"Keep it, maybe you'll need it again," you said, then chuckling to something he didn't find funny. "First days are always rough, especially if you're in an assassin's school. Thought might make it a bit easier"

Marcus nodded slowly, satisfied with your answer, and tucked the towel under his arm after he had put his jacket back on. 

"Why did you kill those kids?" 

He looked up at you quickly, like he had been horrified by your question. You didn't understand how he looked like that, maybe the question had caught him off guard, but he truly looked horrified. Could a killer of so many people be horrified by his body count? There was something off. 

"Well, you go straight to the point, don't you?" he scoffed, defensive, fierce look in his eyes. 

You raised your brows "Why wouldn't I? I mean, you truly are a monster if you did it for fun" 

"I didn't do it- for fun" Marcus said, a slow pause before the last two words. 

You stared at him, like you were trying to figure him out. Marcus was sure you wouldn't figure him out, you really needed more than two minutes with him to understand him. The staring contest was ended by you nodding, undescriptable expression on your face.

"Stay away from Chico, would you, Marcus boy?" you requested, moving towards the door. You patted his shoulder, stopping when you were next to him. You looked at him, directly into the eyes "You look like a fun dude, and I wouldn't like to see you dead before meeting ya, okay?"

Marcus turned around when you continued your way towards the door, stopping you with his words "Wait- Where are you going?" 

You giggled, shaking your head to his obliviousness "This is a school, lovie. We might not have basic maths as a subject, but we have class, you know?"

"Oh, right"

[amlovelies]

Kindling

big thanks to everyone on discord for your help and feedback on this one 💜. Julia and Cyn rescue some hostages and then make out in an alley 😉

fandom: fhr pairing: Julia Ortega/f!sidestep (Cynthia Basri) rating: M, death/violence mention as well as some mild spice words: 2.9k read on ao3

               Even without your telepathy, it’s easy to know where to go. The craned necks of passersby and the distant sound of sirens all point towards Los Diablos’ latest disaster. Ortega had been frustratingly vague in her message, no information, just an address and a ‘come quick’. Not that you really need details. There’s nothing else you’d rather be doing.

               There had been a time when you had to work to slip behind the barricade unnoticed. Back when you were still an unknown vigilante, as likely to be a nuisance as an assistance. When you had to amplify your usual projections: ‘don’t notice me’ and ‘there’s nobody there.’  It’s still uncomfortable letting them drop, feeling the moment when you are seen, when you are recognized. Feeling little excited exclamations of ‘Sidestep’ and ‘hero’ in the minds around you.

               Uncomfortable, unfamiliar, but also real. You spend so much of your time hiding, just a ghost in a crowd, dancing at the edges of life, but not now. Not when the officers give a respectful nod in your direction. Not when they look at you like someone who matters, like someone who can help.

               You allow your mind to expand, to scan the city block around you as you take in the scene.  Brushing over the crowd, you sense nothing to be concerned with, just morbid curiosity and anxiety. A customer is worried about their favorite teller. Exclamations that this is a nice neighborhood, things like this aren’t supposed to happen here. Never mind that they have no idea what ‘this’ is, they’re just irritated at the disruption to their daily routines.

               You know the moment Ortega notices you by the lift at the edge of her mouth. She throws a smile in your direction that makes your stomach knot before returning her attention to the officer in front of her. You still don’t know what to do about this new thing. Fuck, you shouldn’t even call it a thing, that makes it too real. So what if you’ve been kissing, so what if you’ve let her see your face? You’re sure it’s just a passing fancy on her part, a new way to stave off boredom, and you are too stupid and selfish to stop it.

               She nods at your approach, and you take the opportunity to listen in. An established routine, it’s happened more than once that the LDPD failed to give the Rangers crucial information.  Sometimes it was simple incompetence, like an officer in over their head who was unable to recall the right details. Not always though. Not everyone has such an appreciative viewpoint of the Rangers, and some have a real problem with having to play second fiddle to a woman. Want to see her knocked down a peg or two (or in that case, nursing a couple broken ribs).

                               Even if she hadn’t asked, you would have checked. Would have let your consciousness spiral out, gentle fingers touching lightly against the minds around you, getting a fuller picture of the situation. It’s too ingrained a reflex, your primary role, reinforced in endless hours of training. Always meant to be a fly on the wall, not a part of the action, only there to report and monitor. Not anymore. You are so much more now.

               Seems like a botched robbery. The ringleader is a fire boost, Pyradical, and he has at least two modded goons with him.  That’s more firepower than the LDPD can comfortably deal with. It makes sense they called the Rangers in. You’ve heard the name before. He’s new on the scene and young. Early twenties or so, another desperate kid taking a chance with the boost drugs and looking to get rich quick. He was blamed for the robbery of La Brea Jewelers last month. Nasty. Last you heard, the security guard was still in the ICU recovering from the burns, but that had been a solo job. He’s getting more daring.

               Ortega gives you a look as the officer mentions hostages, and you switch your focus. A year ago, this would have been outside your range, but not now. A deep breath as you push your consciousness out to toward the darkened bank. Heat, intrusive and suffocating, blazes across your consciousness and your lips pull back in a snarl in response. You change direction, not trusting yourself to touch the knotted maelstrom of Pyradical’s thoughts. Even that brief connection was enough to make your muscles tense and bunch.

               The hostages are easy to pinpoint, beacons of terror and despair. The officer had said four hostages, but you only count three. Did they separate the hostages? Or is this an inside job? You need more information so you let your consciousness dip down, no longer a light brush, but letting yourself connect with one of them.  

               You rear back almost instantly as the scent of burning flesh fills your nostrils. A steadying hand on your shoulder keeps you from wobbling.

               “You okay?” Anathema asks. Her brow is furrowed until you give her a small nod. Her frown returns, however, as you relay what you had seen in the teller’s memories. The branch manager was dead, Pyradical holding a flaming hand to his face when he refused to input his half of the vault combo. You need to move quick.

               It’s a simple plan: you and Anathema will sneak around back and focus on getting the hostages out. Ortega will create a big showy diversion and keep Pyradical busy. Getting attention is what she does best after all. Power has been cut to the building, so you don’t have to worry about any alarms. Anathema rubs her hands together and you grimace as the sharp scent of acid fills the air.  You’ll never get used to the sound of metal bubbling as she presses her palm against the lock. You close your eyes and focus on the minds inside. The world narrows down. Narrows down to just this building, you feel yourself settle into your body. Awareness focused, reflexes honed, like an arrow ready to be fired, listening and waiting to react.

               The mod guarding the back door goes down easy. He had no hope of dodging your punch to his throat. Especially not when his brain is telling him you’re still a foot out of reach. He goes down and you keep moving.

               It’s stuffy inside, warm even for Los Diablos. Sobs, muffled and hopeless escape from behind the teller line, but no sounds of alarm. You step over the prone body and into the dim interior of the bank, Anathema following close behind. Any second now Ortega and her distraction should arrive.

               Glass shatters as her familiar form crashes through the front window. A roar of surprised anger erupts and chaos descends. It takes an effort to ignore the sounds of the fight, the fizzle of Ortega’s mods and flesh hitting flesh, you have to ball your fingers into a tight fist as you resist the urge to join her. Orange and white light paint the walls in bright flashes as you draw closer to the hostages.

               You catch an intention and roll to the left as a bullet narrowly misses you. Before you exit your roll, Anathema is already moving, her fist flying towards the shooter’s face.

               You trust her enough to turn your back on the fight. The hostages look dazed, eyes unfocused and tears staining their faces. The fear rolling off them hits you like a wave and you strengthen your shields. You make quick work of the zip ties binding their ankles and wrists. One of them begins to bolt, fear clouding his judgment. He’s only focused on the safety promised by the daylight shining through the shattered window, not one the flames shooting from Pyradical’s hands.

               It’s a good thing you’re quick, hands flying out to grab the back of his jacket and pull him away from the danger. Heat billows in waves from the lobby. Even through your mask, your eyes burn from the acrid smoke as cheap décor goes up in flames.

               Ortega’s voice taunts from the lobby. You can’t make out the words, but you know the tone. As long as she’s laughing things are under control.

               It’s easy enough to soothe the hostages, just a gentle brush against their minds, a promise of safety, of making it out of here alive, to trust, to be ready.  A firm command to their minds and they follow you out the door.  

               You lead the hostages to the waiting hands of the paramedics who are waiting with shock blankets and oxygen masks. Your objective completed you turn back to the building. Smoke pours out the shattered window mixing with the omnipresent Los Diablos haze. If you don’t end this fight soon the whole building is going to go up.

               You’re nearly to the building when Ortega leaps out the window.

                 “Get down!” she yells. Not that you are given a choice as she barrels into you. The wind is knocked out of your lungs as she tackles you to the ground.

               “What the fuck—” but the words are lost in the explosion that shakes the ground.

               Your ears ring. Ortega’s lips are moving, but you have no idea what she’s saying. Probably some dumb quip.

               This is not the time or the thing you should be focused on, but she’s so close. It feels different. Different now that she’s kissed you. Different now that you’ve felt her lips against yours. Fuck, you want to feel them again.

               You should focus on the fact that there was just an explosion, but instead your whole world has shrunk down to the weight of her body pressing you into the ground. The concrete is hard and painful under your body. There’s nowhere else you’d rather be.

               “Was that really necessary?” Your voice has none of the steel you were hoping for. It’s a gulping flustered thing.

               “Better safe than sorry,” Ortega says with a wink. “Besides, I’m quite comfy.”

               “Really? Is that all you think about?”

               “Only around you,” she says as she presses her lips down against yours. Even with the mask in the way, you can’t help but gasp. She doesn’t need her mods, or even to touch your skin to leave you feeling electrified.

               And then she’s up, all movement and action, turning back to the burning shell of the building. Anathema emerges, one of the goons in tow, and you breathe a sigh of relief as Julia surges forward to help her. Smoke rises in thin tendrils from her suit, and there are patches where the fabric has burned away to reveal her pale freckled skin underneath. Skin that is untouched and undamaged despite being caught in the explosion.

               Pyradical is dead, going out in a blaze of glory rather than allowing the Rangers to bring him in.

               The hostages are shaken up, but physically fine. The goon you’d left unconscious by the back door is carted away in the back of an ambulance, the other in the back of a cop car. He’s lucky to be alive. Anathema shielded his body with her own during the explosion. Not that he’s feeling particularly grateful right now.

               The action is over and you let yourself slip into the background. Anathema has already left, back to HQ for a shower and change of clothes. Ortega holds court answering questions and smiling for the cameras. You should leave, head home, but you can’t bring yourself to yet. Not with the glances Ortega keeps shooting you.

               At last satiated, the press leaves, and with them the rest of the crowd. It’s oddly peaceful. The fire from the explosion has long since been put out, though smoke still hangs in the air. The surrounding area is almost empty, now that the excitement is over, people go on with their day.

               You fall into step with Ortega as she walks to where her motorcycle is parked. It’s a natural instinct to envelop her in your projection, to let her pass unnoticed as well. A young woman nearly walks into her, and Ortega shoots you a questioning glance. You shrug, she should be used to this trick of yours by now. It’s just easier to wrap you both in a bubble of anonymity. To not have to worry about sharing her with the public.

           Her smile turns wicked, and something in your stomach flutters, twists, knots. You don’t have the language to describe the things that smile does to you. You can’t read her thoughts, but you can guess her intentions. This is when you should dodge, should step to the side, distance yourself. You don’t. You let her grab your hand and pull you into the dimness between two buildings.

                Her hands are quick, nimble, as they roll up the edge of your mask with ease. As if it was a regular practiced movement, and maybe it is becoming one. How many times have you let this happen now? You’d have to stop her if she tried to remove the whole thing, but she doesn’t. Only your mouth is exposed, and only for a moment, before she captures your lips in a kiss.

               This is so much better than that ghost of a kiss during the fight, so much better when you can feel the brand of her lips on yours. A small sigh escapes you, and that’s all the invitation she needs to deepen the kiss. Her tongue darts out, teasing and quick; one hand grips the back of your head. Her nails scrape against the nanoweave of your mask as she angles you exactly how she wants you.

                Oh, this is foolish. This is playing with fire and knowing that you will get burnt, but not caring. You have so many scars already, what is one more?

               The kiss breaks and she pulls back. You chase her lips, wanting more, needing more. Another drag, another kiss, you’re used to wanting things that will end up hurting you.

               “You’re too damn tall,” you huff. You need her closer, but you don’t trust your footing balancing on your tip toes. Your arms wind around her neck as you attempt to pull her down to your height. She concedes bending down to kiss you again. She chuckles against your lips, the reverberations traveling down to your toes and sending a shiver down your spine.

               Before you can protest, her hands move to your waist, and she lifts you with an ease that draws a surprised squeak out of you, one that is cut off as she captures your lips again. Your legs wrap around her waist as if by instinct, pulling her flush against you. Nothing but your skinsuits between you. You trust yours to stop a knife, a bullet, but now it feels so insubstantial. Unable to protect you from hungry press of Ortega between your thighs as she holds you pinned against the brick wall of the alley.

               Adrenaline from the fight is still coursing through your veins. Your very blood transforms into an electrical current, dancing through your veins and grounding you on the feel of Ortega’s lips. You wonder if this is how she always feels. Your fingers knot in her hair, pulling it out of her careful braid. The small curls at the nape of her neck wrapping themselves around your fingers much like how your limbs are wrapped around her.

                You should stop this, eventually you will have to stop this, but that thought is a small voice compared to the screaming of your body. A voice drowned out by the groan Ortega makes as you nibble on her bottom lip, and her grip tightens on your thigh. For a few moments the rest of the world ceases to exist. There is nothing but this moment. You don’t think, can’t think of anything but her. Her hands and her lips and the blood pounding in your veins. You thought you felt alive during that fight? There’s no comparison.

               Eventually, the kiss breaks, and she rests her forehead against yours. You both are breathing heavy; your pulse is a wild erratic thing. A softer kiss this time, not quite a peck, still letting herself linger, but the frantic need of a few moments ago has dissipated.                

                Your legs wobble when she sets you back down on your feet. From the smug smile on her face, you know she notices. You wish you had a sharp quip at the ready, but you’re still too drunk on her.

                At least pulling your mask down means she can’t see your facial expressions.

               You walk back to the bike in silence. She’s closer than she needs to be. Her hand keeps brushing against your arm. Gentle, accidental touches which you know are no accident at all.

                “Come back to HQ with me?” she asks as she climbs onto the bike. “I’ll order pizza and you can keep me company while I do paperwork?” 

               You don’t have to read her mind to know she isn’t thinking about paperwork. Not with the way her eyes trail over your body. Letting you know she is looking, appreciating.

                “Only because I’m hungry,” you lie as you take the helmet from her outstretched hand and climb behind her.

                “Don’t worry,” say says with a wicked laugh, her hand squeezing yours where it rests on her waist. “I’ll make sure you’re satisfied.”

[carnegiemuseumnaturalhistory]

What Do Botanists Do On Saturday?

by Sarah C. Williams

Here in the section of Botany we’ve adapted in some strange ways, just like plants do, to the changes of the past year and a half. Let’s learn about the off days of some of our Super Scientists in the Section of Botany!

Mason Heberling, Assistant Curator of Botany

Collecting specimens has become a focus as more time was able to be spent in the field when we weren’t allowed to be at the museum. As our new Botany Hall entrance video shows, Assistant Curator of Botany, Mason Heberling and Collections Manager Bonnie Isaac collect plant specimens on a pretty regular basis. They also snag iNaturalist observations for these plants, taking photos that show what the plant and habitat looked before being picked and pressed.

Mason studies forest understory plants, in particular, introduced species and wildflowers in our changing environment. Mason has a bunch of fun projects going on this summer, ranging from coordinating seed collections of an uncommon native grass to send to Germany for a large greenhouse study to working with a team of students to study the effects of climate change and introduced shrubs on our forest wildflowers.

In addition to work in the field, the herbarium has been a busy place this summer too! Mason has been working with Alyssa McCormick, an undergraduate research intern from Chatham University, to examine stomata (the pores on leaves for air exchange for plants to “breathe”) and leaf nutrients in everyone’s favorite plant – poison ivy!  Poison ivy has been previously shown to grow bigger and cause nastier skin rashes with increasing carbon dioxide in our air due to fossil fuel emissions. Alyssa is using specimens collected as long ago as the 1800s to examine long term changes in poison ivy.

Mason, where can we find you on a Saturday?

“This summer has been a lot of going to various places around western PA like Presque Isle or Idlewild to get out and enjoy the fresh air with my family. I can also be found most Saturdays around the house doing chores!”

Bonnie Isaac, Collection Manager

Bonnie, one of CMNH’s TikTok celebrities, and All-Star in the Mid-Atlantic plant world, has spent a lot of the past year doing fieldwork. Her PA Wild Resource Grant involved looking at most of the populations for 10 Pennsylvania rare species. She and husband Joe Isaac spent many days on the road and a few in the bog! You can see some of her videos about these unique Pennsylvania finds on Carnegie Museum of Natural History’s Tiktok account: @carnegiemnh.

She diligently keeps track of various data points from latitude and longitude and elevation, to flower color, size, and associated species within a habitat. In addition to trying to make sure the plant names in our database are correct, she has also been busy georeferencing some of our specimens so that we can see on a map where each one was collected.

Bonnie, where can we find you on a Saturday?

“On most Saturdays I am either home taking care of my many chickens or getting some exercise in one of my kayaks with my spousal unit, Joe. I sometime even take a fishing pole for a ride or see how many different kinds of plants I can find on a hike. As long as I can get outside with Joe, I’m happy.”

Cynthia Pagesh, Herbarium Assistant

Specimens make their way home to the museum, where we assure they’re bone dry, flat as a pancake, and have been frozen twice to get rid of any pests. They then find their way into the nimble hands of Cynthia Pagesh, our resident plant mounter. Cynthia has luckily been able to do some mounting both onsite and at home over this past year, really honing her craft. She uses Elmer’s glue, dental and sculpture tools, linen tape, and a paintbrush akin to a magic wand: transforming roots, stems, flowers, and fruits into scientific and artistic renderings on an 11.5x16.5” archival herbarium sheet.

Mounting can be very detailed and challenging: wrangling a dry and brittle rare plant you want to salvage every detail from, or an oversized leaf ‘how-will-this-all-fit?’ ordeal, or finessing a delicate petal that glue is especially heavy on. Bulky bits, crumbly bits, spiky no nos: Cyn handles them all. Her work is just as much an art as it is a science. When she’s not making masterpieces, she’s probably doing something with plants.

Cyn, where can we find you on a Saturday?

“You can find me on Saturdays helping prune young trees in my community, collecting wildflower seeds or in my kitchen making preserves or homemade pasta noodles.  I volunteer in vegetable, herb and flower gardens.  I have a pollinator garden at home and raise Monarch caterpillars.  I tag and release them to migrate south.

There are lots of Community Science projects for people of all ages: ask someone to help you find one related to a subject you have an interest in.  I have an interest in pollinators including bees.  I participate in a Community Science Project every Summer that counts types of bees on certain plants when they bloom.”

Iliana DiNicola

After another stint in the freezer for bugs-be-gone, it’s everyone’s favorite day: Picture Day! Each plant: sturdy and mounted, all data logged and super official, makes their way to the imaging station to spend some time under the bright lights. Since 2018, students, interns, and volunteers have lovingly held these plants’ hands as they get their close ups. We take high definition photos using a specially made lightbox and special software.

While this is part of a limited project, called the Mid-Atlantic Megalopolis, we are still hard at work going into our last year of the time we were given. This past schoolyear and summer, former Pitt student, Iliana DiNicola was taking pictures for us on the regular while also interning with the Pittsburgh Parks Conservancy. She just graduated and I’m excited to hear what she does on her Saturdays in the future.

Iliana, where can we find you on a Saturday?

“I just graduated from the University of Pittsburgh with a degree in Environmental Studies, and I am now on the lookout for any jobs related to the environment back in my hometown of Phoenix, Arizona. I am interested in working with anything from sustainability, to policy or political work, or maybe even something more related to ecology and outdoor work.

On a Saturday, I am definitely helping clean my house since I am a semi-clean freak, I love to go hiking if the weather isn't too hot, enjoy drawing and working on any art projects, or work on my future hydroponics garden.

As somebody who interned for Pittsburgh Parks Conservancy, I highly recommend participating in any camps or activities the conservancy has to offer. It was super fun learning more about Pittsburgh's history and ecology and getting to teach kids about these topics, alongside participating in fun outdoor activities.”

Sarah Williams, Curatorial Assistant

Next up, Sarah Williams, the Curatorial Assistant in the Section of Botany, is overseeing the digitization project, morphing the photos from raw camera files into smaller files for sharing and detailed files for archival storing using Adobe Lightroom. She takes the images from the newly photographed specimens and makes sure they get uploaded onto the Mid-Atlantic Herbaria Consortium’s website to be shared far and wide across the world.

There is also a lot she does in sorting, filing, and taking care of the specimens as well. She does a bunch of scheduling, hiring, and training of work study students, interns, and volunteers. We consider her a jack of all trades.

Sarah, where can we find you on a Saturday?

“Most weekends I work with a local catering company called Black Radish Kitchen. I usually end up serving delicious vegetable and farm focused meals at least one day a week, commonly Saturdays because they’re prime for celebrations. The re-start up since the pandemic has been cautious, and I’m excited to be amongst people and help them to make mouthwatering memories again. I’ve worked in the restaurant industry for over a decade and the skills I’ve learned doing it as well as the friends I’ve made are matchless. It has a big piece of my heart.

I also moved into a new house this year about five minutes from my mom, so if I’m not running to say hi to her and ‘borrow’ some groceries, I’m doing laundry, dusting and yardwork… but only after I sleep in, eat some delicious breakfast with my partner, and hang out with our two cats, Santi and Gil.”

We hope you enjoyed getting to know us here in the Section of Botany, look forward to updates and more introductions in the future as we continue to host volunteers, federal work-study students, and interns on their journeys to learn even more about the plant kingdom.

Sarah Williams is Curatorial Assistant in the Section of Botany at Carnegie Museum of Natural History. Museum employees are encouraged to blog about their unique experiences and knowledge gained from working at the museum.

[sojourntime-aux]

Happy @khoc-week !

I'm super excited to be participating again this year! This time I'll be focusing mostly on one of my other KH OC's, instead of a handful of my KHuX OCs (atleast on this blog ;)

Anyway! Let's dive in!!

~~~~

KH OC WEEK DAY 1: Strength, Reference Sheet, How would your character describe themselves?

✧✧✧✧

NAME: Cynthia Lionál

PRONOUNS: She / Her / Hers

AGE: Starts Story around mid highschool age

HEIGHT: 5'2"

BIRTHDAY: June 18th

KEYBLADE(s): Gleaming Daybreak, Twinkling Twilight

HOMEWORLD: a different Daybreak Town

ABOUT: Cynthia is a normal highschool student living in Daybreak Town. She, like many others in the town, dreams of one day going to the Union Academy. However unlike most others in the town, Cynthia already has the gift of the keyblade, thought no one knows how or why. This gained her both a few privileges and restrictions enforced upon her by the union leaders at the academy, until the time she can properly join their ranks. However Cynthia has already made several attempts to pass the entrence exam, none of them proving fruitful. Despite this, she has not given up her dream of one day joining the academy, even as her friends one by one got in without her. She refuses to let any of this break her spirits.

Cynthia, while somewhat struggling in school, much prefers to be there than home. Really she doesn't ever prefer to be home, Cynthia's home being in the run down side of town. It's rumoured that this part of town was once torn apart by an ancient battle between the old foretellers, but Cynthia doesn't know if that's true. All she does know is that no one ever bothered to fix that part of town, and hates going back to her small home.

During the Sundrown Hours, Cynthia's favorite thing to do is sit on a roof top near the shoreline of the lake, and watch the sky. She likes to watch out for Skyfalls, and always hopes she'll find where one has landed before the Academy blocks it off. Either way, she finds them pretty to watch.

When she doesn't wish to go home, Cynthia has a habit of asking to stay with her friend Marcus. This became a little more difficult once Marcus became a member of the academy, but they made it work. Sometimes Cynthia uses the Academy's spare sleeping quarters, other times she ends up sleeping on the floor of Marcus's dorm room, especially if it was too late into Sundrown Hours set up a spare room. Marcus also sometimes helps Cynthia with her schoolwork, and studying for the Academy entrence exam. He's got faith that Cynthia just needs a little extra time and tutoring, and she'll do great.

REFERENCE PICTURES:

The very first and now very old picture of Cynthia

Cynthia's Keyblades, drawn around the same time as the first picture

~~~~

Cynthia, or Cyn as I call her a lot of the time, is a somewhat old OC of mine. However, due to a certain game slowly giving me more insight about her homeworld, I'm now reworking, and rewriting her story. So some of this profile is old info, and some of it is entirely new as of 2020-2021!

I also know there are some interesting and unique terms used in the profile. I promise more will be explained throughout the week!

So until tomorrow!

[divincfeminine]

introducing CYNTHIA ‘CINDY’ WRIGHT, new york’s resident visionary & political strategist. her most played song on spotify is BABOOSHKA by KATE BUSH and she is most definitely a mix of DONNA MOSS ( the west wing )  & JACKIE SHARP ( house of cards ) !!

✧♥༻　sapphire & faded jeans, i hope that you get your dreams. ✧♥༻

trigger warning for CHEATING & MISCARRIAGE.

full name: cynthia janel wright

nickname(s): cindy, cj, cyn

age: forty-four

date of birth: june 18th

birthplace: manhattan, new york

current location: park slope, brooklyn, ny

nationality: american

gender: cis woman

pronouns: she/her/hers

orientation: bicurious

religion: non-practicing catholic

occupation: political strategist (democrat)

living arrangements: lives on her own in a brownstone in park slope

languages spoken: english, some spanish (she’s currently learning!)

Born and raised in Manhattan, Cynthia Wright is the middle of three children. She’s always been close with both of her siblings. Their parents divorced when she was young, and the kids were then divided. Being older, Dawn and Cynthia chose to stay with their mom, while their younger sibling went with their father.

It was later found out that Mr. Wright had another family, which was a big scandal in their neighborhood. Everyone in their building knew about it, treating it as if it was a plot twist in some trashy daytime soap opera. Cynthia didn’t quite understand what it all meant at the time because she was only 11, but she still resents her father for it. She hasn’t spoken to him in years.

She always had an interest in politics, and studied at Columbia on a scholarship and graduated at the top of her class. Her family were very proud, and she worked as an intern at the Mayor’s office for a while before getting into political strategy.

Cynthia got married in 2012 to the man of her dreams (well, so she thought). She fell madly in love with him from the moment she laid sight on him. He was a politician, she worked on his campaign and they established a relationship. She was the perfect wife for many years before she discovered that he’d been cheating on her throughout their entire relationship. She filed for divorce in 2015 and hasn’t looked back.

While they were married, they tried to have children, though, Cynthia had four miscarriages. She lost hope, and not long after the last miscarriage, she found out about his affairs. She felt humiliated.

Now that she’s 44, she’s kind of given up hope of having a child naturally, and doesn’t want to be a really old parent. But she hasn’t found the right time. Plus, with her crazy work schedule, it doesn’t seem possible anymore.

Since her divorce, Cynthia has dated a small handful of men. Only one actually meant something to her. Rico Galaz. They’d been together for over a year, and were planning to move in together before panicking and breaking up with.

She hasn’t been able to shake him out of her mind since then. She’s still in love with him, but at this stage, believes he doesn’t feel the same way.

At the moment, she’s dating a man who she’s been with for a few months, and he treats her like a queen, but she can’t seem to stop thinking about Rico. She’s trying to convince herself she wants to be with this new guy, but it’s not working.

[starfishings]

CYNTHIA WOLFGANG ✪ STARFISH played by rosie . she/her . gmt+1

✪ for the uninitiated

full name - cynthia wolfgang nickname(s) - cyn age - 26 years birthday - 13th march gender - nonbinary pronouns - they/she sexuality - pansexual birthplace - port vale length of time in port vale - lifetime occupation - freelance baker faceclaim - zazie beetz

✪ below the surface

- history

since the beginning, they’ve been toeing edges.

the cold shock of the surf lapping their feet was their earliest memory, their toddling escapade at the beach that day cut short by the snatching arms of their mother. funny, how she made a habit of that. the routine steering from the edge; no deviation from the beaten path to glory she was once made to walk herself. it was out of love - or something like it.

but if they are anything, they are their mother’s child, and adamance is rooted in their family as sturdily as any wave-weathered boulder to skirt the town. they would sooner force the mould into their shape than be some malleable thing, shaped as a shadow of another - not any more than they already were.

and so they would toe the line. never straying from the comfortable fortune and paving of their mother’s way, save for the little kicks. those little rebellions. like the homework foregone in a new pot-based baking pursuit, the stowing away on a night-fishing boat or the skinnydipping in the bay. evenings spent drifting on rippling hues, eyes half-cracked for a flash of iridescent scales. a sillier notion mounted on by the museum outings they liked to make after school, never quite dislodged in the years to pass.

twenty-odd years down the line, their mother’s hold loosens. they’ve never been as inclined to a life of laughless fortune and foresight as they were to whim and gut, though they’ve never held their tongue in their life quite as much as when it came to letting her know. it had always been difficult to envision what came next for them in such an encompassing shadow, though even victoria’s presence didn’t quite reach beyond the water. perhaps that was why they’d always found themselves more drawn to the shore than the heart of the town.

so, not here, they’d say. but somewhere, soon. a notion made mantra, though their foot’s been in the door so long now, that one could say it’s become a variable wedge.

- present

every week they throw a dart at a map and vow they’ll be gone within the month, although the sound of their destination always loses its ring before they can begin packing. with the latest flight six times delayed, they have to wonder whether it’s something beyond that calls them, or something that’s always been right here, but beneath. these days they wander the town like one of those funny tourists they were once so used to guiding, prodding for gossip on the streets and turns that feel more alien by the passing day. perhaps the feeling is their way of packing up the sense of ‘home’ in time for their next plane booked, or maybe it’s the mounting number of unfamiliar faces washing up at port vale they never took the time to scrutinise. 

- personality

cyn is as changeable as the shoreline boulders they were raised alongside. it is rare to see them adapt themselves to reflect another’s company, having outgrown their mother’s coddling shadow enough to realise they’d sooner be appreciated as something shaped by their own hand. contrary to the authoritative standing of victoria, cyn has grown into an irreverent character with a strong penchant for anything deemed outlandish; from the follow-up to a seaman’s tall tale to the odd witching hour skinnydip invitation. they’ve never been afraid to make themselves look a fool for what spectators ever tried to measure them up against their mother. they were never one to stick to the script, but they can still damn well put on a show.

[quinnallerton]

Maybe I read too much into it but is it a coincidence that there’s new-ish John content today which just so happens to be the same date of Cyn’s passing and then the Lennon estate posts that picture of John holding a pig the day after MPL posts news about the celebration of Ram..? (Interesting fact, the emoji they used on John’s instagram is not a pig but in fact a goat/ram?) It’s like Yoko is still trying to push Julian and Paul aside or something, but maybe I am just being bitter and she has nothing to do with it and it is all just coincidental........ 👀 (don’t get me wrong, obviously it’s not weird that Yoko or Sean wouldn’t remember Cynthia today since they didn’t have a relationship with her BUT as respect to Julian who has literally lost all of his family aside from his stepbrother, I would have thought it’d be nice of them if they would have at least posted something on John’s account, just for Julian’s benefit. And like it or not, Cyn was important to John at some point. But who knows, maybe they have reached out to him privately. I’ll shut up now.)

Everything you mention is correct. It’s all calculated.

Even as a sick, decrepit cretin, she manages to have her team manipulate and screw with everyone outside of her ‘ideal image’ of John. The perpetual widow has used every ounce of the Lennon name for her own personal agenda and financial gain. Fuck her and the Lennon Estate for what it has done for his legacy.

It makes me so angry, I really can’t believe how horrible she is. I really hope when she’s gone the truth all comes out.

[blackberry-gingham]

Ah I love your writing!😌 Idk if you’d include beatle girls in the prompts but reader being friends with Cynthia or Maureen and they take reader to the cavern club for the first time. Cyn/Mo set reader up on a blind date with one of the other teddy beatles (either Geo or Paul) so they can double date with them and their Beatle. Reader’s nervous that their date will think their too square or boring but they actually end up really hitting it off!

Lol, this is a good one! Honestly I'm a little new to the fandom still, so I don't know toooo much about all the Beatle girls, but I do know Cynthia! So yeah, in that case, I think it'd make sense that John's girl would want to set you up with Paul lol.

Anyway, I'm going to do an Imagine for this one, hope that's ok! It's new years themed, in honor of today!! Enjoy ❤️

---

Today is an important day

Well, important to you that is

See, you've been single for longer then you'd like to admit, and your friend Cynthia has had enough!

She's decided your new year's resolution for you, and that is to finally land a boyfriend!

Cynthia's been seeing her teddy boy John for a while now, and they've really hit it off!

This is something of a surprise to you, given all that you've heard of teds and their reputation

Even crazier is that the guy she wants to set you up with is a teddy boy too!

Buuuut... You trust Cyn and her judgment, plus you're tired of being single already! So you take the chance

She says the guy's name is Paul

He plays the bass and is John's best friend!

That's about all you know, so you're anxious to meet him

The place you're meeting is called the cavern club, where John and the boys should be finishing up a gig

You and Cynthia arrive in time to catch the last of their set

She gets a table for four and orders some drinks

Once you're set up and seated, all that's left is to enjoy the show

John swaggers up to the mic and spots Cynthia in the crowd, he winks and dedicates the next song to her

She rolls her eyes, but laughs and claps politely

Next she points out Paul to you up on stage

You follow her finger and... Oh

There, receiving likewise information from John, stands a very handsome young man

John nods in your direction and when Paul sees you, his eyes light up

In that moment he decides he has to impress you

Just by watching, you can see how much charisma and charm he wields

As his little performance for you goes on, you find yourself feeling very... Subpar

He's just so cool

And you're just so you

"Something wrong? Are you feeling alright?", Cynthia asks, concern written all across her face

You take a breath to steady yourself and assure her you're fine

Luckily the song is at an end by now and the torture is over

John thanks the crowd and the boys pack up their gear

A good ten minutes or so pass, until finally John and Paul arrive at your table

Cynthia and John kiss and say their hellos before introducing you to Paul and vice versa

Paul strides up to you all smiles, and takes your hand

He kisses your knuckles, "A pleasure"

Your heart skips a beat, and now you're really intimidated

Paul pulls out your chair for you, then pushes you in before taking a seat beside you

John and Cynthia open the floor to some group conversation to try and get everyone comfortable

You do your best to participate, but can't help but feel quiet and shy

Cynthia shoots you a sympathetic look, and prays that you'll come out of your shell

John and Cyn pair off into their own conversation and let you and Paul get to know one another

Paul starts off the conversation as his chatty self, asking after all kinds of things in the hopes of snagging your attention

You try your best, you really do, but it just seems so hard open up

How can one man be so overwhelmingly charming??

However, Paul remains polite to the very end and as a last resort tries to turn the conversation over to you

"So... Do you like music?"

"Oh, haha yeah... Do you know Buddy Holly and the crickets? Or maybe, Chuck Berry?

Paul's jolts with excitement, "Do I! Why those are some of our biggest influences, aren't they John"

"They are so!"

Paul turns his attention back to you, even more excited to see your change in posture

You do so love music, and this whole concept of rock n roll fascinates you!

"Say, have you heard Elvis? He's practically John's idol!"

Of course you have!

The two of you go on and on for the rest of the dinner date, talking excitedly about all the latest musical gossip

It even opens up the gate for Paul to talk about his bass skills and the music he and John have been working on

And all of a sudden, this Paul McCartney and his coolness don't seem so scary

Now that he's had the chance to see the real you in all your kindness and passion, Paul swears you've already stolen his heart

John and Cynthia leave a bit early and say their goodbyes while you and Paul stay behind

Cynthia smiles knowingly at your as she takes John's arm

She's so happy for you

Her eyes tell you to fill her in on the details later and you smile back to seal the promise

You and Paul stay a while longer until you get bored of sitting

He picks up the tab and offers to take you backstage and show you his bass

Eagerly you agree

"Well then what are we waiting for!"

He grabs your hand and half leads, half drags you after him

Once he's secured his instrument, you spend a bit of time talking about it's make and model before he offers to take your song requests

The two of you get lost in the music, going back and forth discussing and playing your favorite compositions

Not to mention, Paul has a wonderful singing voice too!

"You think so?"

He smiles at you with stars in his eyes as you nod in affirmation

His look changes to a smirk, and you wonder what he has planned

"Well then you'll have to tell me how you like this one. I call it, Love Me Do..."

[megan1412]

Its Time

Cynthia goes into labor and John and Paul become parents to their third child.

----------------------------------------------

The drive is tense and quiet. They had just gotten the call that Cynthia was in labor, and was at the hospital. Paul begins to tap the steering wheel, a habit John hates.

"Paulie, do you have to do that?" John asks with an annoyed tone.

"Leave me alone!" Paul snaps back at a startled John.

"I know your anxious love, but you know I HATE it when you tap. Its bloody awful!" John whines.

Paul speeds up slightly, continuing to tap. John just sits back and groans. Then he begins to mess with a button on his jacket. The button was his favorite to mess with, and it was nearly torn off. The flicking makes Paul nearly go feral.

"Alright, we're both anxious! I just want to see our baby now. Its been nine months and Im ready!"

"Yeah... I wonder what the gender will be."

They decided to wait and see what their baby's gender was. Cynthia knew, but she promised not to tell. The rest of the ride was aggravating, the tension growing as they continued to annoy each other.

"Stop. Fucking. TAPPING!" John yells at a now infuriated Paul.

Paul suddenly stops the car and pulls over to the side of the road. John braces for the worst.

"Do you want me to turn this car around and let us miss the birth of our child Lennon?" Paul says bitterly, his face reddening.

John simply shakes his head, and takes a huge breath of relief. Paul bangs his head on the steering wheel and they continue. They had never been this anxious before. The first two kids were excitement. The day they both were adopted as babies were the best days of their lives. They look at each other and sigh, and continue on to London.

They walk into the hospital, and they ask the receptionist where Cynthia's room is. They say on the second floor in Room 207. They run upstairs and down the hall till they see the room with the sign outside saying Lennon. John goes in first, followed by Paul. Cynthia was laying in the bed, already changed into her gown. She was breathing heavily and was chewing on some ice.

"Hey Cyn. How are you love?" John said tenderly, laying a small peck onto her forehead.

"Not well. Im not dilated enough so this may take a while." She said, frustrated.

They sit down with her and help her through the contractions. They get worse one after the other. The pain looks excruciating to the two men, who just look in awe and sympathy.

"How bad does it hurt Cyn?" Paul asks cautiously.

She just shoots him an ugly look.

"The birth will be worse." Cynthia says on the verge of tears.

The couple look at each other with concerned looks and sit back down when the nurse comes in to check on her dilation. The exam looks uncomfortable. John tries to look away but can't help looking at Cynthia's uncomfortable expression. He wonders why women have to go through so much pain to have a child. He starts to think that women are the strongest beings on earth. Two hours go by and she is still not dilated enough for a natural birth. George and Ringo stopped by to say hello but had to leave as it was 3 in the morning and they were exhausted. Around 5 in the morning, Paul and John were asleep on the couch while Cynthia napped on and off. She suddenly squealed and the couple were awoken with fear in their eyes. The nurse ran in and decided to check if she was ready. As they waited to see, Cynthia was in pain and was lightly crying. She kept mumbling about how she couldn't move much.

"Mrs Lennon, I think we are ready to bring you to the delivery room!" The nurse said excitedly.

The nurse gestured to John to come along as they prepped her bed for transport. He gave Paul an excited peck on the cheek and ran down the hall after them. Paul made his way to the waiting room, where Brian, Mimi, and the kids were sitting. The kids were asleep in Brian and Mimi laps. They had begged Mimi to bring them to the hospital to see their new sibling, but they fell asleep quickly. An hour went by, and the anxiety was growing in Paul's stomach. He heard groaning down the hall, and screaming as well. It sounded like Cynthia.

"JOHN!!! ITS COMING!"

Paul sprang up and, on impulse, ran down the hall. He followed the crying and burst into the delivery room. John sprung around as the nurses tried to usher him out. But John refused.

"Let him stay. If you don't, Ill sue the bloody hospital!" John growled.

They reluctantly moved out of the way and Paul ran to John's side. Cynthia began to cry louder as they told her to push.

"Ok Cynthia. You're gonna have to push harder!"

"I CAN'T I CAN'T!" Cynthia moaned.

"Yes you can Cynthia we believe in you, the baby's almost here!"

The next few agonizing minutes were horrible to watch. She pushed and pushed, getting more exhausted by the minute. John tried to excuse himself, but Paul held his hand and squeezed it, comforting him. Eventually, they saw something.

"I see a head!" The nurse said excitedly.

John and Paul ran to see. They saw the baby begin to appear. John got so excited he nearly broke Paul's hand from squeezing so hard. Cynthia began to push even harder, letting out one final scream.

"She's here! Baby Girl Lennon is here!"

Paul and John freeze in their tracks. Its a girl? John becomes very quiet as he looks at the crying baby. Paul becomes concerned and tries to rub his shoulder, but John just simply walks over to the now relaxed Cynthia, with the baby on her chest. She smiles and kisses the baby's forehead. She then hands the baby over to the nurse. The nurse then weighs her and cleans her up. She is then wrapped in a bright pink blanket with a white beanie on her head. Some red hairs are visible peeking onto her forehead. John takes the baby in his arms, playing with her little fingers and toes and smiling gently. He then whispers softly to the baby with tears in his eyes.

"Hello Elizabeth Stella."

Paul stumbles over to his husband, standing in front of him as they look at their precious new child. Cynthia meanwhile gives the baby's new information.

"Role of the mother?"

"I am a surrogate." Cynthia says blankly.

"And the name for the baby will be Lennon-McCartney."

They can feel the judgement behind them but they don't care. They look into the baby's eyes and smile.

"We are gonna love you better than anybody in the world can ever do." Paul says softly.

"Mr Lennon? Is this your life partner?" the nurse politely asked.

"Husband. Thats the proper term. And the baby's other father." John said confidently.

"Paul McCartney." Paul said quietly.

The baby was rushed to the nursery as Cynthia was cleaned up and getting prepared to move to the Recovery ward. Throughout the morning, friends and family came by to see the baby. Cynthia let John and Paul hold the baby mostly, not wanting to get too attached. Julian and Sean came later in the day and met their new sister for the first time.

"Hey sweetheart." Paul said as he picked up a very excited Julian.

"Where is she?" Julian asked.

"Down here. Hold my hand." Paul grabbed Julian's hand as Sean held onto Paul's jacket.

The room was quiet when they entered. Cynthia was asleep. John was in the rocking chair with Elizabeth. He was holding her little hand and humming to her softly. Julian wanted to yell for his Daddy, but Paul shushed him.

"Hey guys. Wanna come meet yer new sister?" John said quietly.

Sean and Julian ran over to John and stood right beside him. He showed Elizabeth to them gently and they just played with her fingers and giggled. John was ecstatic. Never had Paul seen his husband so happy. He loved kids, especially girls. John simply just smiled at Paul and they exchanged a passionate stare. Their little family was complete.

[thecoleopterawithana]

I remember giggling with John as we wrote the lines 'What do you see when you turn out the light? I can't tell you but I know it's mine.' It could have been him playing with his willie under the covers, or it could have been taken on a deeper level; this was what it meant but it was a nice way to say it, a very non-specific way to say it. I always liked that.

Paul McCartney, in Barry Miles’ Many Years From Now (1997).

-

[And because we have the fortune of having a witnessing of the “With A Little Help From My Friends” writing session by Hunter Davies:

In March 1967 they were getting towards the end of the Sergeant Pepper album. They were halfway through a song for Ringo, a Ringo sort of song, which they’d begun the day before.

At two o’clock in the afternoon John arrived at Paul’s house in St John’s Wood. They both went up to Paul’s work room at the top of the house. It is a narrow, rectangular room, full of stereophonic equipment and amplifiers. There is a large triptych of Jane Asher on the wall and a large silver piece of sculpture by Paolozzi, shaped like a fireplace with Dalek heads on top.

John started playing his guitar and Paul started banging on the piano. For a couple of hours, they both banged away. Each of them seemed to be in a trance till the other came up with something good and he would pluck it out of a mass of noises and try it himself.

They’d already got the tune the previous afternoon, a gentle lilting tune, and its name, ‘A Little Help From My Friends’. Now they were trying to polish up the melody and think of some words to go with it.

‘Are you afraid when you turn out the light,’ sang John. Paul sang it after him and nodded. John said they could use that idea for all the verses, if they could think of some more questions on those lines.

‘Do you believe in love at first sight,’ sang John. ‘No,’ he said, stopping singing. ‘It hasn’t got the right number of syllables. What do you think? Can we split it up and have a pause to give it an extra syllable?’ John then sang the line, breaking it in the middle: ‘Do you believe – ugh – in love at first sight.’

‘How about,’ said Paul, ‘Do you believe in a love at first sight.’

John sang it over and accepted it. In singing it, he added the next line, ‘Yes, I’m certain it happens all the time.’

They both then sang the two lines to themselves, la-la-ing all the other lines. Apart from this, all they’d got was the chorus. ‘I’ll get by with a little help from my friends.’ John found himself singing ‘Would you believe,’ which he thought was better.

Then they changed the order round, singing the two lines ‘Would you believe in a love at first sight Yes, I’m certain it happens all the time’, before going on to ‘Are you afraid when you turn out the light’, but they still had to la-la the fourth line, which they couldn’t think of.

It was now about five o’clock. Cynthia, John’s wife arrived, wearing sunglasses, accompanied by Terry Doran, one of their (and Brian Epstein’s) old Liverpool friends. John and Paul kept on playing. Cyn picked up a paperback book and started reading. Terry produced a magazine about horoscopes.

John and Paul were singing their three lines over and over again, searching for a fourth.

‘What’s a rhyme for time?’ said John. ‘Yes, I’m certain it happens all the time. It’s got to rhyme with that line.’

‘How about, “I just feel fine”,’ suggested Cyn.

‘No,’ said John. ‘You never use the word just. It’s meaningless. It’s a fill-in word.’

John sang ‘I know it’s mine’ but nobody took much notice. It didn’t make much sense, coming after ‘Are you afraid when you turn out the light’. Somebody said it sounded obscene.

Terry asked what my birthday was. I said 7 January. Paul stopped playing, although it had looked as if he was completely concentrating on the song, and said, ‘Heh, that’s our kid’s birthday as well.’ He listened while Terry read out the horoscope. Then he went back to doodling on the piano.

In the middle of the doodling, Paul suddenly started to play ‘Can’t Buy Me Love’. John joined in, singing it very loudly, laughing and shouting. Then Paul began another song on the piano, ‘Tequila’. They both joined in again, shouting and laughing even louder. Terry and Cyn went on reading.

‘Remember in Germany,’ said John. ‘We used to shout out anything.’

They played the song again. This time John shouted out different things in each pause in the music. ‘Knickers’ and ‘Duke of Edinburgh’ and ‘tit’ and ‘Hitler’.

They both stopped all the shouting and larking around, as suddenly as they’d begun it. They went back, very quietly, to the song they were supposed to be working on. ‘What do you see when you turn out the light,’ sang John, trying slightly new words to their existing line, missing out ‘afraid’. Then he followed it with another line, ‘I can’t tell you, but I know it’s mine.’ By slightly rewording it, he’d made it fit in.

Paul said yes, that would do. He wrote down the finished four lines on a sheet of exercise paper propped up in front of him on his piano. They now had one whole verse, as well as the chorus. Paul got up and wandered round the room. John moved to the piano.

‘How about a piece of amazing cake from Basingstoke,’ said Paul, taking down a piece of rock-hard cake from a shelf. ‘It’ll do for a trifle,’ said John. Paul made a face. Terry and Cynthia were still quietly reading.

Paul got a sitar from a corner and sat down and started to tune it, shushing John to keep quiet for a minute. John sat still at the piano, looking blankly out of the window.

Outside in the front courtyard of Paul’s house, the eyes and foreheads of six girls could just be seen peering over the front wall. Then the girls dropped, exhausted, on to the pavement beyond. A few minutes later they appeared again, hanging on till their strength gave way. John peered vacantly into space through his round, wire spectacles. Then he began to play a hymn on the piano, singing words that he made up as he went along.

‘Backs to the wall, if you want to see His Face.’

Then he seemed to jump in the air and started banging out a hearty rugby song. ‘Let’s write a rugby song, eh.’ No one listened to him.

Paul had got his sitar tuned and was playing some notes on it, the same ones over and over again. He got up again and wandered round the room. John picked up the sitar this time, but he couldn’t get comfortable with it. Paul told him that he had to sit on the floor with his legs crossed and place it in the bowl of his foot. Paul said that George did it that way; it felt uncomfortable at first, but after a few centuries you got used to it. John tried it, then gave up and placed it against a chair.

‘Heh,’ said John to Terry, ‘did you get to the place?’

‘Yeh, I got you three coats, like George’s.’

‘Great,’ said John, very excited. ‘Where are they then?’

‘I paid by cheque and they wouldn’t let me have them till tomorrow.’

‘Oh,’ said John. ‘Couldn’t you have said who they were for? You should have said they were for Godfrey Winn. I want them now.’

‘They’ll be OK tomorrow,’ said Paul. ‘There’s some more stuff to get tomorrow. Don’t worry.’

Paul then went back to his guitar and started to sing and play a very slow, beautiful song about a foolish man sitting on the hill. John listened to it quietly, staring blankly out of the window, almost as if he wasn’t listening. Paul sang it many times, la-la-ing words he hadn’t thought of yet. When at last he finished, John said he’d better write the words down or he’d forget them. Paul said it was OK. He wouldn’t forget them. It was the first time Paul had played it for John. There was no discussion.

It was getting near seven o’clock, almost time to go round the corner to the EMI recording studios. They decided to ring Ringo, to tell him his song was finished – which it wasn’t – and that they would record it that evening. John picked up the phone. After a lot of playing around, he finally got through, but it was engaged. ‘If I hold on, does that mean I eventually get through?’ ‘No, you have to hang up,’ said Paul.”

[littlelambdrgnfly]

Thinking about a scenario where it’s normal for criminals to receive regression punishment instead of going to jail, and of course it happens to Johnny. 😏 He wouldn’t get busted for something really serious, just something like drug possession, so instead of going to prison, he gets released into Cynthia’s custody as her adult baby. He still has to go to the studio and be able to provide financially, but he’s in nappies 24/7, baby clothes, the whole shebang, and he has a parole officer who checks in to make sure the rules are being followed. Paul has been extremely supportive of the whole thing, saying how good it will be for Johnny to be re-raised correctly, and he starts hanging out with Cynthia all the time, seemingly to just help take care of the new baby. Everyone in the inner circle knows that not only is Paul sleeping with Cyn, he’s fucking little Johnny stupid at every opportunity, and both he and Cynthia love humiliating him. It isn’t a secret that John’s a baby now, it’s on the front page of dozens of papers that John Lennon is now the biggest name to undergo regression punishment, so Paul and Cyn take him everywhere in his oversized stroller and thick nappy poking out from under his shorts, and the press immediately picks up on the narrative of Paul and Cyn being Daddy and Mummy. After that, it’s over for Johnny’s adult life, no one’s ever going to see him like that again, even after his punishment finally ends, especially because he already had a tenuous grasp on his potty training before, and now it’s hanging on by a thread... 😳