#c: natalia

[angusbyrne]

LOCATION: Woodrow House grounds DATE: Sunday, September 4, 2005 Closed starter for @natcliachen

Angus remembered being told at some point in the last week that the past summer in New York was one of the warmest on record—averaging 4.5 degrees higher than normal. September already seemed geared up to take a similar direction. The day of Richard's funeral was clear and sunny, with a projected high of 78 degrees around noon. Milder than August and balmy, it remained the type of weather you dreamed of when you fantasized about the tail-end of summer while you were caught in the dog days of it. Howbeit, it still made Angus flush around the Piqué collar of his shirt.

He only meant to wander off for a tick. Angus feared a smattering of pink would soon pass across his cheekbones or that he'd quickly become incapable of keeping down the hors d'oeuvres. The afternoon was an endless well of thank you for coming and that's an awfully kind thing for you to say and no, he never told me that story, it sounds extremely amusing and where did you say your son would be interning? I'll be sure to keep an eye out for him. Shaking hands, exchanging business cards, nosey questions, getting pat on the arm—he felt like an exposed nerve, poked and prodded and turned over for examination. He simply needed a break.

As he strode across the lawn—that was what he often did: strode—he caught sight of a familiar outline. Natalia. Neat and pretty as a paper doll, a well-trained eye might've caught the tight creases around her eyes. Tired, maybe. Annoyed by what the man in the dark navy suit said to her, most certainly. He couldn't read the man's lips, but he did judge his choice of light brown shoes. That deemed her worthy of extraction on its own, whether or not she requested one. It would be a quick detour. He approached with no lack of confidence, clapping a hand over the shoulder of the man who seemed to show no signs of reining in his passionate gesticulation.

Angus recognized his face immediately. "Macpherson," he started warmly, donning the mask of gracious host quite seamlessly, though, in the last few minutes, his tie had been knocked very slightly askew. "I've been sent to wrangle you of my own volition. Roger Milton and Graham Atterbury are engaged in a relentless debate. They're talking personal consumption expenditures, disposal personal incomes, mortgage rates—what have you." With a hand still on the man's shoulder, he gently and covertly began to turn him in the opposite direction. "Neither economists, of course. You'll have to save them with your expertise."

It was an easier task for him, getting rid of an obnoxious man. He exhaled heavily once the unwanted third party was gone, turning back to Natalia with a near-pleasant expression. The exhaustion started to crack him a bit, but he still had enough goodwill to extend her a compliment. "It's a testament to your mental fortitude that you were not just brought to tears of boredom," he said. Honest. "Tell me—how long did he go on for?"

[fly-musings]

closed starter - @pavlcva

local: campos de morango.

"Pelo amor dos Deuses Natalia, tira isso de perto de mim!" O grito apavorado, os olhos arregalados... tudo facilmente seria interposto em uma cena de combate no submundo. Mas era muito pior do que isso. Era somente o filho de Thanatos e uma abelha imensa pousada em seu ombro. Óbvio, o fator de risco surgiu justamente pela grave alergia que o semideus possuía das picadas do inseto. "Eu vou morrer! EU TENHO CERTEZA QUE VOU MORRER!" A respiração se tornou cada vez mais ruidosa. "Eu não posso morrer solteiro, Natalia!" O desespero era tamanho que sequer notou que o inseto já tinha voado para longe.

[aidankeef]

Closed starter - @pavlcva

local: riacho de zéfiro

Sua paciência —inexistente— já tinha se desfeito nessa altura da tarde. Entre os ruídos dos cascalhos e as falas de Natalia, respirava fundo e apertava os punhos repleto de ira. "A questão é: qual o nome desse imbecil?" A pergunta, em um tom de voz ríspido, era um chamado para a guerra. Natalia discorria sobre um suposto empurrão que havia levado de um semideus desconhecido, empurrão que acarretou na derrubada de seu almoço e um leve desconforto na semideusa. Aidan soube do ocorrido horas após o acontecimento e aquilo era imperdoável, assim como a agressão. "Primeiro você apanha e depois você demora um século pra me contar? Eu não sei se grito com você ou com ele. Até um espantalho seria mais rápido que você na hora de me procurar, Natalia!"

[niicos]

closed starter for @nctalias​

one  thing  nico  was  enjoying  was  the  food.  he  had  a  plate  filled  with  salmon  and  california  rolls,  maybe  not  the  best  idea  at  this  time  of  the  night,  but  they  were  way  too  good  to  pass  up.  he  grabs  another  salmon  roll,  dips  it  in  eel  sauce,  and  pops  it  into  his  mouth,  chewing  with  satisfaction  as  he  waves  around  the  chopsticks  with  his  left  hand.  once  he  swallows,  he  says,  “these  salmon  rolls  are  great.”  as  if  it  wasn’t  obvious  with  the  way  he  was  devouring  them.  “you  know...  i  get  the  cast  off  two  weeks  from  now.  are  you  happy  for  me?”  he  teases  his  older  sister,  letting  out  a  light  hearted  chuckle.  “thank  god.  this  thing  is  suffocating.”  and  i’ll  be  one  step  closer  to  getting  back  on  the  field,  but  he  doesn’t  bring  up  this  last  thought.  “so  how  has  your  night  been,  huh?  be  honest,  are  you  vibing  or  are  you  counting  the  minutes  until  this  is  over?”

[georgiatennant-hf]

It was something that was needed. I am used to doing everything for them and not so much for myself. Oh, I am back with the children now. Its the school holidays this week so keeping them entertained. How are you doing?

I'm sure some time to yourself will be perfect! I can't imagine how stressful it is having kids, but I bet you're usually focused on doing everything for them and not as much for yourself. Are you still on your small mom break or are you back with the kids now? I hope you've enjoyed your time whether it's still going on or not!

[russiasredguardian]

“ i still owe you for that save. ” (from Nat <3)

' — just that one? '

[aidankeef]

closed starter to @magicwithaxes local: jardim

"É impressionante. Já consigo te rastrear pelo faro!" Desde que a melhor amiga confessou que detestava ser chamada de fedida ou ter seus critérios higiênicos questionados, Aidan se apropriou das provocações e direcionou todo seu arcabouço criativo para aquela tarefa. A verdade era que Kitty já havia dito sobre a resistência de Natalia para aproveitar o espaço, principalmente a área de banho, e pediu reforços. Carregava consigo uma garrafa de água e uma toalha de banho extra grande, elementos essenciais em sua dinâmica. "Sabe que eu estou fazendo um bico para o Resort, não sabe? Adoro receber ordem de mulher brava e foi a brecha que eu precisava. Aceita uma água?" Parou os pés ao lado de Natalia, inevitavelmente curvando os lábios para baixo, impressionado com a roupa que a filha de Hécate vestia. Aquilo não era normal. "Escuta, é impressão minha ou uma baixinha do chalé de Hades, que tem uma bunda macia e um temperamento difícil, andou escolhendo suas roupas? Isso é a cara dela!" O comentário foi feito enquanto o O'Keef media o visual alheio. Não que ele fosse apto a avaliar algo, estava usando um conjunto praiano, camisa propositalmente aberta para mais uma sessão de exibicionismo, cores vibrantes como o verão demandava. Entretanto, o visual da russa causou um desconforto desproporcional no filho de Ares que, num movimento intuitivo, passou a abrir a toalha de banho e cobriu a parte das pernas de Natalia. "Vamos proteger o patrimônio Hornsby porque não quero ouvir ele apitando de madrugada." Ele claramente não havia recebido esse tipo de assessoria visual de Kiraz e a inveja tornou a ficar perceptível já que começou os resmungos, mais para si do que para a outra, ao passo que acertava a toalha sobre o corpo da Pavlova "É isso aí, vista a fedida mas não vista o futuro marido. 'Ai ela é minha amiga' duvido que faça o que eu faço, e mesmo assim ganhar seleção de roupinha sem agredir a moda."

[futurelabs]

Girls' day today: Isabella talking about Daniel 🥹 but Natalia's not so convinced 🫠

[monroe-might-murder]

Screaming. Blood. Running. And now gunshots. It was the sort of chaos that could only mean one thing. Monroe cast a quick glance around the room, catching sight of Rhys. "Fuckin' Cory," he grumbled, downing the rest of his whiskey before rushing towards the source of the commotion. He hated cleaning up anyone's messes, but vampires--unhinged, reckless vampires? Now that was the truest pain in the ass he could imagine. But he knew that Marcus wouldn't forgive the loss of one of his pets, so Monroe was duty bound to get the idiot out of whatever situation he'd wound himself into.

Milo had felt the call, the scream. And he was gone like a shot, abadoning his company and running until he reached the room. But he could hear more then, smell too. He followed behind the heels of a blonde woman, stopping short in the doorway as he took in the room. Too many of them were there, and he knew that the more bodies there were in the room, the more danger it imposed. He held faith in his maker, in his seethe to keep the peace, and instead turned around to shut and guard the door. Other people would notice now, surely. They would be drawing up quite the scuffle. He was joined quickly by Thomas and Mitchell, but was cut short from speaking as he watched their necks snap and bodies slump to the ground as a result.

Monroe made quick work of the leeches. He didn't aim to really kill them, although he could have if he had a mind to. But he wanted them to stay down, clearing the way for what would apparently be his cut and run with Cory in tow. And now the third vampire stood, clearly stunned from his actions. Monroe smirked, swiftly grabbing his head and repeating the motion as he had with the other two before tossing his limp body to one side.

He entered the room, briefly taking note of its occupants. The bleeding vampire girl, presumably Cory's doing, her guardians, the two cops, and the leader of the Italian seethe. Fuckin' Cory, he thought again. The nuisance in question was laughing maniacally in the corner still, practically curled in on himself. Monroe crossed to him quickly, grateful for the distraction at hand. He hit the idiot over the head just hard enough to knock him out before lifting him up and running. He knew they would notice him, but they were all too caught up in their own affairs to catch him. So he kept running, shoving through the crowds until he was away into the night with his least favorite leech in his arms.

Bess would recognise a gun shot anywhere. She’d been close enough to have a good idea of the direction it came from. Running towards it she was rather thankful she’d only had a few glasses of wine. What she wasn’t thankful for what the fact she didn’t have her own gun with her.

Jays voice reached her down the corridor, followed by more shots. What the hell was going on. Her heart was hammering with fear for her partner.

She arrived just in time to see a familiar vampire take a step towards Jay. She didn’t slow her movements, didn’t hesitate or stop until she was positioned directly in front of her partner. “Stefan,” she held up a hand in a placating move. The other grabbed Jay behind her and yanked him till his chest was against her back. The last thing she needed was him making any sudden moves in front of a predator already preparing to strike. “Stefan, please stop,”

[collageofnudes]

Lilly C (Natalia E)

[theneverendingshow]

Lily C aka Natalia E via Femjoy

[themickey]

closed starter @natcliachen when: september 6th, 9pm where: bar time babyyyy

she would be lying if she said that she wasn't excited to get out of the house and go to the bar with natalia. sure, she was still a little hurt because of what happened with dinner the night before, but she spent the day listening to the others tell her how mad she should be at natalia. she just couldn't find it in her to keep her anger towards her.

showering off the dirt and sweat from the day of fixing up the greenhouse, mickey tried to find the best outfit that natalia wouldn't cringe at (though, that was a tall ask) but didn't feel completely unlike herself. she settled on something simple but nicer than the baggie tshirt and jean shorts she was wearing all day.

sitting in the front seat of her jeep cherokee, mickey's thumbs drummed along to the alanis morissette song that played through the speakers as she waited for natalia. once the door opened, she turned down the radio some as natalia got in. "i haven't been out drinking in town since i was in college, i wonder if it's as townie as it used to be." mickey personally loved it, the normalcy of the town, but she was sure it was not natalia's scene in the slightest.

[harrykane-hf]

I get what you mean. Not so much about being on set. But more when you are away from things and what is going on for others. When it comes to what is going on for me, still training and playing for my club in Munich. Still playing for my country when those games come around. Trying to see my partner as often as I can as we live in different countries.

There's something about spending so long focused on one character and on one set that really takes you from reality. We've been filming the fifth season of Stranger Things for almost a year now, and while I love getting to spend the time with some of my favorite people, I feel like I've been missing so much of what's going on in the world! Please tell me everything you've been doing lately. Are you working on something new? Have you gone on any exciting trips lately? Not a single detail is unimportant here! ( @hfrpstarters )

[mel-loly]

Hi! Have Any of your Oc's have been They evolved for so long? It's been a long time since I've seen so much of your Ocs!

Hey Natalia!

Also- oh! Well.. I've even been talking a little about my ocs again, including, yes, I “changed” them a little, the personality was what I changed the most so... They are a little “different”, but also they are still the same! And Mel-Loly and Primrose (one of my most recent characters who became original) are getting married in a few days, so.. Yeah... “Official” couples are coming soon lol-

And I made a post recently talking a little about me having changed my ocs, and I asked people to look more afterwards because I might be changing the descriptions a little and anyways... If you want to know more about or something like that, here is the link!

If you want to ask more about them, feel free! What I like to do most here besides chatting and answering you guys is receiving questions for/about my characters, so... Feel free! I would love to receive more questions and- well, I would actually love too to tell you more about them👉👈💖

Thank you very much for the ask, I got VERY and VERY happy to receive it, I rarely receive any questions/asks about my characters so.. I'm very happy to receive another one! Thank you a lot, dear!🥺🫶💖

[ilyanarasputin]

[surplus-of-sarcasm]

Number 28

TW: Injury, angst, exhaustion, mention of suicidal ideation (not sure if that's the right way to describe it, but there's also a wish to never exist), poverty, smoking

Notes: This came out a bit different from my usual style, dialogue is introduced later, dk exactly how long this, read-more used just to be safe. Hope u enjoy, loves <3 < 3

The villain's life had never been particularly easy, nor pleasant in general, but today, it had taken a disgusting turn for the worse even they weren't used to. It wasn't just the fact that they were injured; the wound wasn't too deep, wasn't life-threatening, nor did it really put much of a damper on their ability to move. The criminal was also alone, which wasn't a new experience in any shape or form, but it just wasn't utterly convenient now. They'd always sneered at the idea of teamwork, especially in their line of work because there was no actual guarantee that your so-called partner(s) would not stab you in the back the second it suited them. But still, it's not like little to no reliance on anyone else never came with a price.

The trouble mainly resided in the fact that they had no idea exactly where they were, just that they didn't belong. A high-end neighbourhood without many houses, because each one was the size of a castle anyway, well-manicured lawns and ornate, steel gates. All of it was too much of a stark contrast to the dirty alleyway harbouring Villain's down-trodden one-room apartment. Most villains weren't dirt poor, but most of them hadn't spent most of their money on a college degree, thinking it would lead somewhere, then had all their job prospects ruined by cascading waterfalls of unfortunate circumstances. People who were meant to care for them simply didn't, leaving them to fend for themselves when keeping them around was no longer convenient. The criminal had known nothing but poverty, and sure, there was definitely many a noble way that would pull them out of the squalor they were used to, but the villain was much too spent to care.

Ironic that this was meant to be their "money-maker" mission, pathetically easy too. Just steal some precious artifact from a museum, replace it with a decoy and get away before anyone found out

. . .except all they'd ended up with was Vigilante's knife wedged in their abdomen and swiftly pulled out. They'd run as fast as their exhausted legs could take them, finding themselves here, honestly surprised that there was no one around to judge them, to sneer at how out of place they looked. They just needed a map, anything to find out how far they were from home, a way out, anything to use a makeshift bandage.

Help. They needed help.

And they hated it. Hated the fact that they weren't invincible and hated how they hadn't realised it even sooner. They wanted to scream their throat raw, to tear their hair out, to collapse on the ground and disappear into nothing, like they'd never been. If only the ink on the pages of a miserable story could be erased, could leave its everlasting paper prison. Beautiful, torturous fantasies; where monsters had a life outside of the cages where they belonged.

The all-too familiar smell of cigarette smoke should not have snatched the villain so abruptly out of their thoughts; some of the other inhabitants of their area could starve just to buy a pack, almost always reeking of it wherever they went. They blamed the close proximity for their sudden distraction. Their gaze flitted over to the figure next to them, almost towering above them. The criminal's breath caught in their throat, but the person next to them wouldn't be able to tell. They were just about to force their body into a fighting stance when the person next to them let out a soft chuckle.

"Don't recognise me?" they called out, the corner of their mouth curled upwards in a cheeky smirk.

They'd never seen Hero without a mask on, but they could tell that voice apart from thousands more. There was nothing peculiar about it per se, aside from its strange calmness, the way it was so hard to discern any emotions in their tone.

If the hero's smirk hadn't morphed into a slightly bigger smile, the villain would have forgotten to close their agape mouth. In all honesty, they hadn't expected the crime-stopper to be rich. They'd seen heroes with much fancier super-suits anyway. In a stark contrast to the them, the hero's clothes fit them perfectly; a dark shirt with the sleeves rolled up, left slightly open to expose their collarbones and a pair of slacks, both designer. An diamond-studded watch adorned their left hand, a cigarette clutched in their right, smoke trailing out of it in phantom shapes. They looked a bit younger than the criminal expected, a bit more carefree.

"Is the smoke irritating?' they asked, concerned, snapping the villain out of their thoughts once more.

It wasn't. The faux concern in the hero's tone was, though. Or that was how they saw it. Of course, like most of the elite, they were well-trained in the art of preserving their image with fake charms.

The villain merely shook their head, and at that, the hero gave them a small frown, one eyebrow raised up discontentedly. "You usually chew me out every time we fight. What's got you so quiet?"

The villain wanted to scream. Wasn't it obvious? What were they next to the crime-stopper in their goddamn territory, injured, exhausted and hungry, not having eaten a proper meal in days. They despised how immaculate the hero looked, with their freshly styled hair, their build that seemed to grow stronger as the villain's own simply diminished. "Shut up," they growled, voice dangerously low, "SHUT THE HELL UP, PLEASE!"

The hero's eyes widened, and they threw their practically dead cigarette into a trash can close to them, wanting to focus their full attention on the criminal in front of them. They'd never seen their feelings betray them like that before, as they bounced off of the hero with detached sarcasm. Something flashed in their emerald greens, an emotion the villain had almost never seen before. Not contempt or apathy, not even pity. Understanding. Raw, and if their weary mind wasn't playing any cruel tricks on them, more real than anything they'd ever seen.

"I'm just sick of it all," they breathed out, practically slouching against a tree.

"I know," the hero replied softly, gently laying a hand on the villain's wrist, and they were surprised at themselves for not pushing it away. Maybe it was because they didn't really remember an instance where a touch did not inflict pain.

And right before the villain could ask the hero incredulously just how they knew precisely what was wrong with their life, the crime-fighter was quick to answer. "I always do a bit of research on the people I fight. I have to admit, you're kind of a ghost, but I have my ways."

The villain knew their face had rapidly turned an embarrassed shade of scarlet at the hero's statements, subconsciously pulling her hand away from them.

"I want to help," they clarified, "I can help."

Villain let out a hoarse, empty laugh. "I don't need you to throw your cash at me. What's the point? For me to be indebted to you for the rest of my life? To be nothing and only have any value because of you and your money?" they hissed, nostrils flaring.

"Do you really think that someone offering you help makes you weak or worthless? No matter how high-achieving you are, some things are left to chance. Love it or hate it, you'll never hold totalitarian control over your life."

"That doesn't change anything!" Villain cried out incredulously, inching closer to Hero, practically in their face, their bated breath warm against their skin.

"I wasn't born rich," the hero attested, "I grew up on the streets. One thing they don't tell you about getting rich is that you also need to get lucky as hell. Hard work alone won't just cut it. I used to steal to eat, too. So stop being a bastard and let me help you."

"Please," they added hastily, laying their hands on the villain's shoulders their grip firm but gentle.

"Why?"

"Because you don't deserve this? Because I know how talented you are with a keyboard, but you can't even afford a goddamn laptop? Damn it, Villain, you let me live, that time you could have killed me, so now we're even."

They actually used to have a crappy, old machine, being a STEM major, but when they'd somehow become even more broke, they'd had to sell it to not starve to death. They had an under-the-radar hacker phase, if you will. And about letting the hero live, it had been an impulse. Killing the only human being they interacted with made no sense to them, no matter how solitary they claimed to be.

The villain's ego desperately wished for them to refuse, but then what were their options again? They didn't just have their dilapidated life to come back to, there was the wrath of their powerful, mysterious employer. Pride is simply a luxury when one has nothing in their life beyond struggling to survive.

Still, Villain wasn't impulsive. "Say I agree. What does your 'help' entail? How do you I know you won't screw me over?"

"Live with me, and I'll give you your own source of income. Put your skills with a computer to good use. And if I really want to 'screw you over', aren't there faster, easier ways to do it? Like not shutting Vigilante up with some hush money and a few, well-placed threats? Like kicking you in that injury they gave you?" the hero reasoned.

It terrified them, just how much the crime-fighter knew, all those goddamn tricks they had up their sleeve. And maybe it wasn't the 'purest' of comforting thoughts, but the villain knew that if the hero ever decided to stab them in the back, they could use those 'computer skills' to make sure they really payed, that is, if they didn't kill them first.

"Fine," they answered, and the hero smiled at them, an expression that was so incredibly soft, that the villain wondered how they were ever capable of any violence. They snaked an arm around their shoulders, and by God, they were so horribly tired that they didn't care they were practically leaning against the crime-fighter.

✨Time skip✨

The hero's hands were unbearably gentle with their wounds, attentive to the subtle ways in which they expressed pain; the tension in their jaw, the way their fingers tightened around the blanket. Maybe for once, they didn't hate the hero's gift of seeming to notice everything. The moments that went by were quiet, but not in an uncomfortable way. They had to admit they appreciated what the silk sheets and the warm shower did for their body, and subconsciously, how they calmed their anxiety, if only by a fraction.

"Just get some rest, and whenever you wake up, I'll have someone make you something to eat downstairs. Up in your room even if you feel like it, just text me if you need anything," the crime-fighter said, setting down an older phone of theirs. Rich people don't need to sell their old stuff, probably. "I'll get you a new one, among other stuff tomorrow, okay?"

The villain nodded their agreement, sinking back into the pillows as the hero walked out. "You're a good person," they blurted out suddenly, shocked at voicing their own impulsive thoughts out loud. Maybe they didn't trust the hero blindly yet, but something completely unrelated to their usually rational approach to life, the same part of them that had let the crime-stopper live told them that they could at least trust them a bit more than they used to.

"I try to be," the hero replied, but they were smiling softly at them again before they closed the door.

Self-sufficiency is powerful, important to the life of anyone who wished for true freedom. But it is not to be confused with the stubborn ignorance of help, with fruitless attempts to be solitary. Refusing the hand that pulls you up from a raging ocean will not grant you any strength, only serving to leave you drowned. Even broken lives can get second chances, don't throw yours away.

✨End✨

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