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erinhime83 · 3 months ago

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Angelus Dei Thoughts

I know I normally do these things the day after I finish a story, but, eh, I sort of wanted to have a few days where I got home from work and didn’t write, so…I’m doing it now. I mean, I’m still not sure if this is something that’s interesting to people (read: my friends), but considering this was pretty much ten years in the making and I have some Thoughts, I figured I’d go ahead and do it to explain my thought process on the changes in the story. ^^;

So…the rewrite of Angelus Dei actually started it’s planning as I was editing the first version. So yes, it’s literally taken me over ten years to go to this, which is sad, lol. I had noticed a part I had written about Tiana when Buttercup healed her that implied that some outside force had forced her into the form of a horse, and I was like…that’s weird. See, Tiana had been a not-planned character. I had the thought while writing that, lol, what if the run down horse they had picked up was actually a unicorn! And not only that, the unicorn queen! So I came up with the fact that she had been trapped and then sort of forgot about it.

But during the editing, I saw it and was like what if Aria had the same thing happen to her? (Bit of an obvious spoiler, but they were cursed by the same person.) And that lead me to decide that I wanted to rewrite the story. Eventually.

The rest of the changed occurred over those ten years. Like changing Raito’s name from Robert to Raito and giving the Lumentians Japanese names to reflect their Asian influence. I had wanted to give Odessa a more Middle Eastern name, but never came up with one, and honestly, I don’t know what culture she in anymore, lol. So the Lumentians have Asian name and look Asian, but everyone else has English names, and IDK. But there was also giving Raito an older brother after finding a description of a version of the story that gave him one, and I thought that would be fun. I had mentioned in the first version that he was the first surviving child, and I figured hey, why not make him the second? And then just straight the second child.

One of the things that I didn’t get to, though, was showing how awful Kazuto was by having him attempt to steal Buttercup from Raito. I ended up having her hide in her room while she was in the castle, which makes a lot of sense, since she’s not really accepted and she doesn’t want to offend anyone. I do know that Kazuto and the king had personality changes as I was writing the story, because the king was supposed to be more like in the first version – tough and mean and hard on Raito. But then I made him, well, not. He loves and respects his younger son, although their ideals clash a lot. And I sort of like that the king is trying to hold onto traditions that don’t really apply anymore, because he’s the first king to actually have anything to do with his children.

And that’s another thing, that I had been reading a lot of what is known as historical manhwas that are set in not quite medieval times that features royals and nobles and I felt I had a better way to depict the political atmosphere. Not perfectly, but a better idea. The whole ‘killing all the siblings until there is only one’ came up on the fly and was definitely manhwa inspired, lol.

I had also decided fairly early on that Buttercup’s family shouldn’t be farmers, but rather that her father was a blacksmith. Given what she was, it made sense for her to help him I think initially, she was training to be a blacksmith as well, but I sort of nixed that when I decided to make her the second oldest and make her older brother be the one whose a blacksmith as well. I wasn’t really expecting Seth to have a huge part in the story, but decided as I was writing him that I liked him a lot, and thus, he got to become a major character in the last bit. I wasn’t planning on him coming with them back to the capital, but there ya go.

Odessa’s background is probably the one that I changed the most, obviously. She was originally from a band of nomads traveling through Lumentis, and then for the rewrite, I was just going to have them run into her in a random town she’s living in for whatever reason. But then, as I was considering seriously rewriting the story last year, I came across an idea involving the while princess in a towner guarded by a dragon trope where the dragon and the princess were friends and stuff and I was like…that’s neat, I should write a story like that. But then started thinking of ways to incorporate it into Angelus Dei, because, hey, I have a girl and a dragon.

Of course, I waffled on the idea, but I wasn’t sure about making Odessa a princess. She’s always just been a normal girl who happened to Bond with a dragon. But after a while, I realized it sort of worked well with the story, and decided to go for it. ^^;

The hard part was trying to think of how to make it work. One idea I had was that, because of her Bond with Reaglis, Odessa had been in that tower for hundreds of years. I mean, Raito had never heard about a princess disappearing in his time, so what if it happened a while ago, and Odessa was from the old kingdom and trapped there? But I didn’t like the idea of Odessa being that old, especially since Clover isn’t. So then I whittle down the idea until I came up with what I have, that Odessa was originally supposed to be the one Raito is supposed to marry if he’s not by twenty-five, and she was captures by bandits when she was on her way to meet Raito. The bandits take her to this castle that has a legend about a trapped princess in it, knowing that the legend isn’t true but the locals avoid it. Lo and behold, there is a dragon in there, and Odessa accidentally Bonds with him upon coming in contact with him, and the bandits abandon her and her nanny once they realize this. Odessa and the nanny stay because a) they have no idea where they are and b) the Ta’Norian royal family isn’t going to be pleased with Odesa Bonding with a dragon.

Regalis basically raised Odessa, because her nanny fell in love with one of the villagers from the nearby village and left to get married when Odessa was fifteen. She’s actually the innkeeper’s wife. But that is why Odessa is a little eccentric, because she does know about etiquette and stuff because she’s a princess, but she’s also been away from people for ten years.

I didn’t change much about Clover except making her like girls. Originally, she was supposed to end up with her adopted brother, and Odessa with the leader of the nomad tribe, but I was getting a Vibe from their interactions when editing the original version, and I decided to carry that over into this one by making them a Thing as well.

One regret I had about this was I had a bunch of characters that I underutilized. Like, Selene, Fern, and the queen straight disappeared when they returned to the capital. Hell, Fern was only seen in the beginning! I plan to explain Selene’s absence by the fact that she went home when the angel creatures started to attack, but she was also supposed to interact with Buttercup more so you’d understand that she was a villainess and not a victim of Raito ‘cheating’ on her. I mean, she spent ten years in Lumentis expecting to become Raito’s wife, and he goes on a journey and comes back with a girl? So I tried to make her Not A Good Person and Not Right For Raito to counteract that, but…eh.

I was also kicking myself because I realized that Raito needed an attendant while I was writing the final chapters, since prince of the duke or whoever in manhwas always has an attendant, and I figured he had a generic one because he was the second prince and that I’d give him a proper one in Pater Dei. But then I realized like two days ago that Fern should be his attendant, and I may go back and fix that, since he really should be in the story more. >.<

The idea of the perspective shift still being in first person was something I had planned the moment I decided on a rewrite, because the third person POV wasn’t really doing it for me for the first version. It was interesting because I had to shift some things around because I was using the old outline to write the new outline, but it worked out. I wanted Raito and Buttercup to meet earlier, and it gave me a couple of (boring) chapters to have them travel around and meet Odessa and Ruby. But I can tell Raito definitely suffers from woman-writing-a-man. (In reality, he’s horny af for Buttercup once he realizes he’s in love with her, probably before that, but he doesn’t want to be like his brother and decided to take it slow, or something of that nature, IDK.)

But it was fun writing first person, because that’s what I normally like. I had an easier time with Buttercup, though. One thing that annoyed me was that I was expecting to end on Buttercup, not thinking about how half of 30 is an odd number, so I feel like the story is actually Raito’s story because he has more chapters. But that’s fine. I like Raito. And I managed to make it work.

Oh, and one thing I found hilarious is that, at one point halfway through the month, I decided to compare word counts expecting me to have more with this version, and I had less. I was confused and thinking it was because I had written more of the prologue then, but then I remembered that ten years ago, I had been writing nine page chapters and now I write eight page chapters. Plus, I added an epilogue, which I didn’t do with this one. In the end, this version had 160,860 words and the original had 171,812 words.

It weird to think that ten years ago when I had first written it, I had just started going out with my boyfriend that year, but I was still living with my parents because we moved in together the following year. I think I basically ignored him that November, but I can’t remember, sadly. I’m still impressed that I was doing nine page chapters back then given I wanted to spend a lot of time with him, lol. But now I’m married with two kids, and It s weird, because it feels like 2013 was so long ago, but other stories from around the same time feel like I had done them just yesterday.

I’m sure there’s other things that I wanted to talk about, but I tend to always forgot when I’m writing these things, lol. I will say that my muse is still on the story at the moment, so I’m contemplating doing Pater Dei for November, since I have no real plan for what I’m going to do, sadly. Right now, it’s between that and The Hero’s Party, and neither of them have a solid plot, so it could go either way.

In any case, I did have fun with this. I could have certainly made it better, but I’m pleased with how it ended up, and how I got to get my ideas out after ten years of waiting.

#my stories #angelus dei

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konnfusion · 2 years ago

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You've tagged so many cool posts with Odessa that I'm officially intrigued, I would love to hear about her!

I hope you're okay that I posted this publicly because you're the first person to ask about OC lore in quite some time, and I am ECSTATIC!

I will put a "read more", however, as I tend to ramble, and will mostly assume anyone reading this knows something about Doctor Who.

so a brief tldr; primer is that about a decade or so ago, my now-husband and I were intensely into Doctor Who and did a very cheesy, self-indulgent (pretty poorly-written but fun) RP here on tumblr with a companion character I'd created traveling with the Tenth Doctor. cut to now in 2023, and he's fully back into DW (classic and new), and dragged me along with him. I'd been reworking this character I'd created off-and-on for years (changing her name, her faceclaim, backstory, everything; I just felt like she deserved an update as my writing developed and improved!), and now that the hyperfixation is back in full swing, so is she.

pinterest board for vibe check // story pinterest board with working title for extra vibe check // said posts I've tagged with her name

basically, Odessa is a young woman living in an isolated cottage in the countryside following personal turmoil (including the mysterious and untimely death of her parents and possibly leaving a man at the altar, her neighbors are unsure about that last part; she's a little bit of a "champagne problems" gal), and barely has any contact with anyone. she's just chosen to shut herself up for whatever time she has left on Earth, and tend to her garden and books and be alone until she dies.

but, on her way home from a trip to town one day, her bike runs into a big blue police box that definitely hadn't been on this rural dirt before, and there's man nearby who says he's investigating some strange, not-of-Earth communication signals in the area. I won't give all the details since we're intending to publish portions of this at some point (I hope!), but she decides to help The Doctor find the source of the signals and hopefully stop whatever's going on before it can hurt anyone. it turns out the mystery is linked to her and to the death of her parents, and shines a new light on the tragedy and on her decision to live an isolated, quiet life alone. so, when they've deal with the threat and The Doctor invites her to travel through time and space with him, she agrees. might've been a little bit of a "Getaway Car" situation in the beginning, but developed into something so, so much bigger.

we've been planning lots of original adventures with her, as well as some stuff that adds her into canon episodes, all going through the end of Ten's run, through Eleven's, and into Twelve's and beyond. and, yes, she does get to find romance because I am a romantic at heart, so how can I resist?

there's so much I love about her that I wish I could put into concrete words, but I recently realized that the arc I'd been writing for her was seeing her start as someone who decided to lock away her love because all she ever did was lose the things she loved; to grow into someone who forged this huge, time-and-space-spanning family that she could love unabashedly and wholeheartedly. sort of a coming-of-age out of linear time, and one that she never got to have because she just always felt stuck in the same place (derogatory). she gets the chance to fight to protect the things she cares about, and be openly who she is without fear of judgement or shame--and feel like she matters in her own life. (I do like to joke, though, that she locked away her love because, for her, all love does is end, but then she fell in love with someone who is functionally immortal, so did she really ever unpack that fear? it's sweet, though, I promise.)

it's been fun morphing her into a character that sometimes is just so unapologetically weird, too. I mean, to travel with a centuries-old alien through all of time and space, you have to be a little weird, but I feel like I just poured all my wonderful weird into her and let her run wild. (and this is the first post I tagged her in during this little revisiting, SO. this somewhat references a plot point that my husband doesn't even know about yet, but that will be deliciously angsty and link back to Odessa and The Doctor's very first meeting.) it's been really satisfying to rework a character I've had in my back pocket for a decade and feel like she's more fully-realized, even if just in my own head. less of an avatar, and more of an actual character with needs and an arc. (an actual character who has a proclivity for going after Daleks with a baseball bat and relates a little too hard to the bridge of "Mastermind", but I digress.)

it's also been so gratifying revisiting a story that my now-husband and I were working on in the very beginnings of our friendship, and develop the romance plot from just romance to eventually a marriage between two characters we both really love. hell, we've already formed a spin-off AU, and one-off adventures with different incarnations of The Doctor outside of their shared linear timeline. (one of my husband's creations is a story where she's put on trial for perceived "crimes" against the known universe, and for being accessory to "crimes" committed by The Doctor. we love a chaotic woman wanted for multiple violations against the space-time continuum. ✨)

as I'm re-reading this, it feels kind of vague for how much lore I have in my brain, but honestly sometimes it's like when someone asks what your favorite movie is, and you suddenly forget every movie you've ever seen. 😅 I'm always so, so happy to talk about my characters (and their pinterest boards and playlists and such), please feel free to ask me to elaborate on anything if you're still curious!!! 💕 Odessa is a constantly-shifting, ever-developing, total-failed-misanthrope-beause-her-heart-is-just-too-big, time-traveling madwoman in my mind, and I love her so, so much and love that you reached out to ask about her!!!

#ask #kaijueiga #oc talk #odessa #text #anyone is always welcome to ask about my OCs oh my god I could make powerpoint presentations on all of them #like I am geeking right now this ask has made my whole day!!!!

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be-a-snake-stab-your-brother · 3 years ago

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Oh ho ho ho prepare thyselves, I have some thoughts about Loki's appearance in the latest What If... episode

Let's jump into this.

Okay. So Loki shows up with an (if not the) entire contingent of Einherjar and the Warriors Three (Four, really), giving the same damn speech he did during Infinity War, minus the "Odinson" portion.

This isn't a mistake. Loki, at this point, damn well knows who he really is and why. And assuming that events up to this point follow the same trajectory as the "sacred timeline" (does anyone else think the "Watcher" is just Kang hanging out with a bowl of popcorn overlooking the multiverse because that's how I'm reading it...) Anyway, assuming everything we see in the first Thor movie holds true up until Thor's murder...

And that's just the thing, isn't it? It's Thor's murder that is the "nexus event." Loki comes screaming down to Midgard, apparently having secured the loyalty of all of Asgard as its acting King (he's still holding Gungnir, after all) so something must have gone on behind the scenes for everyone to start trusting him. Even when they obviously know he is Jotun.

AGAIN, HE LEADS WITH THE WHOLE JOTUNHEIM THING. Doesn't deny it, proclaims it in front of the entire Asgardian army. This...this is a very different Loki than we saw in the first Thor movie. Whatever shame he held about being Jotun, he's at least come to partial terms with it. And it's not the reason he ends up taking over Midgard/Earth (more on this later).

Loki isn't on Midgard because he wants a kingdom. He's the "rightful" King of Jotunheim, not the actual one. And he's actually quite forward about the fact he's rallied the entire Asgardian army to avenge his adopted brother's death. He loves Thor that much. (As if Asgard would deny him this. Of course not, they'd want their "pound of flesh," or more, just like Loki does.)

Remember the Loki series? When Classic Loki just wanted to see his brother again? This is the same thing.

Now here's what I find really fascinating.

When Loki goes for his show of strength, when he declares he will reduce Midgard to ruins (specifically, "ash and ice") if he doesn't get the "pound of flesh" aka the entire corpse he deserves (and just...the meta of this...the pound of flesh being a reference to Merchant of Venice and Tommy H being a Shakespeare expert is just perfection on every level)

Anyway, Loki goes for the bloody Casket of Ancient Winters.

Again, Loki has Gungnir, which is not only a weapon no one would laugh at, but a symbol of the Asgardian monarchy, and yet he takes them all out with the Jotunheim Casket. I mean, fascinating. And Loki doesn't turn blue while handling it, which I believe (contrary to some internet opinion) means he has mastered the Casket as its wielder. Meaning he's come to terms with his identity. Even if he still hates Odin, who may be dead or alive at this juncture (Frigga is most definitely alive, or else Loki would be having a breakdown). I find this choice utterly fascinating.

So I want to reiterate that through this entire exchange, Loki is on Earth for a single purpose: vengeance. He wants his brother's killer. He shows no signs of desire to take over the planet, to subjugate its people, and he has never met Thanos (in any iteration) because he never let go on the Rainbow Bridge. It's not until later, not until Hank Pym spills some beans regarding Fury, that Loki seems to switch tracks.

So Fury and Loki strike a deal and Loki (illusioned as Fury because that is most definitely one of the powers Loki has) outs Hank Pym as the murderer of the proto-Avengers, who is on a revenge tour due to his daughter's death during her SHIELD days (which was likely an alt-universe Bucky Barnes/aka the Winter Solider seeing as it was in Odessa and that's just an entirely different story to deconstruct).

But here's the interesting part:

Remember, Fury is not Fury here. I doubt the real Nick Fury would ever refer to Thor as a "Prince of Asgard," and so we know this conversation is happening between Loki and Hank (and wow, I a) never thought I'd type that sentence and b) I cannot believe Marvel got bloody Michael Douglas to play this character, holy hell).

But the important thing to remember here is Hank's point of view. The way he casually says Fury would have recruited Thor for his initiative. Hints that if Fury had done so, he would have considered Thor as an expendable hero. Outright says he would prefer Fury's death over Thor's and this is the moment I believe Loki decides to conquer Earth. Because he cannot trust these warring factions and his brother is dead because of it.

And Loki wipes the floor with Hank. Think about it. Hank has managed to kill all of the Avengers minus Steve Rogers (only due to the fact Steve was doing his popsicle impression at the time). He managed to kill Thor.

And Loki destroys him within a few minutes. I mean, what a testament to our deity of mischief.

But has Loki really gotten his pound of flesh? Hank is taken away, not dead. Thor is still gone, forever. And there was enough logic in what Hank said during their confrontation (after all, Loki would know about being used as a weapon, or at the very least a means to an end. He had that conversation with Odin. He will not stand to see it repeated with Thor). There was enough in that exchange with Hank, there was enough in the negotiations with Fury...that Loki directs his army (his legitimate army who does not rebel against him) to take over Earth in what we can only assume is a mostly peaceful coup (minus some frigid temperatures here and there, but you know, we can just say Loki was counteracting global warming at the same time.) No Chitauri, no Thanos, no utter craziness.

Just...retribution on this planet for making Loki lose what was dearest to him.

#snakes hiss on the internet #loki #nick fury #what if #what it episode 3 spoilers

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monstersandmaw · 2 years ago

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MA’AM ( astonished-ly, not necessarily gendered(-ly?))

First brava, you made good on your promise of tooth rotting fluffy smut twice over. Like exceeded expectations then doubled back and did it again.

Not to continued singing the same praises over and over but really the depth you give your characters is just so beautiful. Gabe is so conscious of Odessa’s feelings and responses and her confort and safety is such a priority to him it makes me want to weep. He’s such a good boy (30% pun intended— also the one dog joke a day allowance made me laugh). Both Gabe and Odessa compliment and respect each other. Gabe seems a lot less shy and reserved I feel like now that Odessa knows his secret it’s such a weight off his chest that he can be more of his true self. And Odessa seeing Gabes reaction to HOW HOT AND JUST PERFECT SHE IS is a shot of confidence and helping rebuild her self image after her shitty had broken her self worth down.

I loved how they kept changing positions during the night but were always cuddled up somehow, very soft and ‘aww’. (Cue the 🥺🥺 face while I was reading it). Also like the erm…. Tasting… aspect while yes um very hot, it was also like really intimate and sweet how Gabe immediately dismissed what may have built up as an insecurity from the past relationship. And the “don’t think about him” we loveeeeee to see itttttttt.

I’m so happy for both of them they deserve each other so much. Nothing but the best for them. Just so good so pure.

Really excited to see Odessa interact with the dogs, they are in a way Gabes chosen family and I’m a little scared but really curious how the whole different lives situation gets resolved when Odessa’s vacation is over. Sorry to have made this all so long I really could just continue talking about it for longer. Thank you for such a fast update I really did not expect it, it feels like a early birthday present jusssssst for meeeee🥰🥰🥰 but really you spoil us all.

I’m sorry you’ve received bad news. Thank you for posting this for us early but I really hope it wasn’t more pressure on yourself. The last thing you deserve is to be overwhelmed with writing during a difficult time. As always you have all my gratitude and appreciation and some cake🍰🍰💕

Anon, I am undone by your kindness. Thank you.

Gabe is definitely relieved to be able to be his wolfy self more around Odessa, but he’s also scared of freaking her out with it, I think. The dogs are definitely his chosen family now, and they will play a bigger part in the next few chapters. I can’t wait to share it with you!

As for what comes after her holiday, that’s plotted out already for ‘season two’ as it were, fear not. There’s so much planned plot going on here Im a bit intimidated to tackle it! Haha.

As for the bad news, it’s my step-dad’s condition taking another turn for the worse. It’s a downward slope from here, and it’s getting steeper with each passing week. We don’t know what the timescale is really, and I don’t know how long he has left, and that honestly terrifies me. He’s been a second father to me all my life, teaching me so much and accepting me and loving me almost more than his own three daughters since i was a very small child, and I’m honesty devastated to be facing the prospect of life without him there.

This ask made me smile and wibble and laugh and cry, in all the best ways, and I’m so so grateful that you took the time to let me know how much you enjoyed my story. Thank you from the bottom of my wibbly-wobbly heart. 🖤

#werewolf #gabe & odessa #grief #terminal illness #anon ask

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movedtooh-westly · 4 years ago

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Heyo, your ocs are so interesting! I already love them. Do you have a story line for the characters? What are some facts about them? Have a good day and don't forget to drink lots of water :)

Okay for starters, thanks for the ask! hope you’re well too! it makes me happy when people are interested in whatever i’m working on :D (it’s a long post, strap in)

A general plot to the story (mind you, it’s still in it’s early stages of being created):

Alinsky Cross, a dangerous combination between a kleptomaniac and a genius, is a master at orchestrating large scale tests and thefts, stealing items like priceless objects and large sums of money. However, he becomes increasingly confident and lets his guard down during a specific heist. The people he was stealing from were called the American Artefact Collection Committee (AACC). The AACC were able to pinpoint who stole their most prized artefact (which is a little acorn-looking thing with origins that are not human, dubbed ‘tenebrarius’), as Alinsky underestimated their security. However, they ruled out the possibility of Alinsky being the thief and instead, captured his father, Ernst Cross, in retaliation. Alinsky is unaware that it was the AACC who captured him or that it was even his fault to begin with. After about a year since Ernst’s abduction, Alinsky starts to explore different methods of finding him. Running out of new and successful ways, he turns to more mythological ideas. While Alinsky believes it was natural for his brain to wander into hypothetical territory, his actual influence came from a connection to the magic world he is unaware of.

This magic 6th sense came from an encounter with a demon (which are part of the magic world) when he was barely five. He escaped it, only suffering a scratch on his left hand. wounds inflicted from Faefolk to humans leave the human with a connection to the magic world, which is why Alinsky can sort of sense magical presences.

This leads him into capturing Esther Snowe, a member of the Faefolk council, in exchange for the secrets to fairy technology. Ernst is brought home a year after Esther is released with the tech, but the reunion isn’t a happy one.

Facts about the characters:

My main character lineup consists of

Alinsky Cross

Bear (Harding Dietrich)

Esther Snowe (Elf)

Farley Coven (Harpy)

Odessa Dew (Elf)

Elisabeth Cavey (Dwarf)

Rooney Pelph (Centaur)

I’ve made a post about Alinsky already here. It has some general info and fun facts about the gremlin boy.

Bear is a martial-artist and had been training since he could walk, basically. When he graduated, he pursued an education in becoming a butler, before becoming bored and instead ending up on the wrong side of the law. He was employed by gangs and other underground companies as a tank or bodyguard. Bear also worked as a contract-killer for a while before deciding it wasn’t for him and instead used his 30s to travel the globe. He was finally employed by Ernst and Vivian Cross before Alinsky was born and the three became rather close friends. When Alinsky was born, Bear became his personal bodyguard. He’s a big softie but that’s usually only revealed after you get through the walls of blank faces and reserved nature.

Bear facts:

He used to be in a swing band (he played BARITONE SAX)

Bear likes to bake and can make one mean quiche

Bear is a big fan of ABBA

Esther Snowe is the Elf Representative in the Council. She is one of 13 Reps (each corresponding with a Fairy race) and the only female to become a member in five centuries. She was apart of the FAE (Federal Army and Enforcement, hehe) and had actually made lieutenant before she quit. She had witnessed the death of some civilians and believed they were her fault and she found it easier just to run. She couldn’t properly let go, however, and often visits her old friends during breaks and stuff. Esther was a role model for aspiring members of parliament and her unexpected abduction was pretty tough on her. Esther is an optimistic and strong individual with a fighter’s spirit and one hell of a social butterfly.

Esther facts:

Esther likes to collect knives and is quite skilled in knife combat

She’s scared of small spaces

Esther makes little pompoms just for fun

Farley Coven is the FAE’s technical person. They had upgraded the interfaces, tools and gadgets to their liking and it’s pretty much useless to try and use it without their help. Farley is a big fan of human TV shows and often watches famous sitcoms during work. They had been a bit of a nerd during their schooling years but had really come to grow on the FAE’s troops and atmosphere, especially since Dew is such a joy to tease. Farley is a cool and relatable individual with too many jokes and not enough time.

Farley facts:

Farley is incredibly smart but likes to hide their intelligence under a laid-back facade

They have that ✨shrimp posture✨

Friends is definitely their favourite sitcom (they also probably watch buzzfeed unsolved tbh)

Odessa Dew (or just Dew, Commander, your highness, etc) is the Commander of the FAE’s 1st precinct. She’s a skilled fighter and takes a lot of pride in her job. Dew’s first job option was a teacher but found herself rather unfit for teaching (i.e she might have thrown a kid across the room). She’s well respected and is part of the family in the FAE. Dew specialises in retrieval missions and loves field action. she also may have a small crush on Esther but we repress that stuff don’t we . Dew’s a tough and enthusiastic person but has that that “i would fistfight god behind the 7eleven” energy.

Dew facts:

Dew has a hoarding problem with plants

She likes watching sports

Her and Farley are best buds, even if she won’t admit it

Elisabeth Cavey is a competitive digger, which is a popular sport among the burrowing races of the fairies (e.g. gnomes, dwarfs). It’s mostly a hobby but she’s gained some popularity in the recent years. Elisabeth had started out wanting to become a nomad and live on the surface but had decided to become a sport star while she was in senior school. She’s pretty competitive but rather shy and spends her spare time gardening. Elisabeth is also quite sensitive and has a tendency to take things personally.

Elisabeth facts:

She has totally thought of just bailing and living secretly on the surface

With help, she pirates human novels to read

Like Dew, Elisabeth is also a plant hoarder

Rooney Pelph is a national racer and competes in races and obstacle courses. He’s very hyper and barely sits still. He doesn’t really sleep much either. Rooney is a big fan of games (like tag and whatnot) and dreams of playing with others his age, but centaurs usually give up on games once they hit 60. Rooney is also a big fan of video games but due to his stardom, doesn’t really get to do much gaming. He’s quite a calculated individual and is a deep thinker but is pretty bad at converting his thoughts into words.

Rooney facts:

i totally didn’t name him after the headmaster from Ferris Bueller’s Day Off

He’s a big fan of feminine clothing! he loves frills especially :J

Rooney will consume entire cans of mints in under an hour.

if you got this far, great job. hope you enjoyed my ramblings. my inbox is always open if you have any questions about my OCs, story or anything else :]

#oc ask #woo that's a lot of text #long post #the documents of alinsky cross #so... this is them :)

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queenofthelanternfish · 5 years ago

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Disclaimer: New chapter upload from my lovely gf @anesther! I particularly love this chapter because I am completely biased since my baby girl Odessa is in here!!!

AN: Finally, she shows up.

Title: Interfaces

Characters: Entrapta, Hordak, featuring Odessa

Pairing: Entrapdak

Rating: G

Go to AO3 to read better.

Wedding

Odessa has been alive for three years.

There are lots of things she knows, despite her young age. Her mother says she will only continue to learn more, for life is a never-ending research project. Her father believes nothing can’t be achieved without patience, and sometimes a little force.

She learned how to read before she was even six months of age, according to Etherian standards. Her body is developing at a different rate than most children, she’s been told. There are similarities between her and children from Etheria, but she isn’t on the same level when it comes to mental and physical changes. She considers Emily and Imp to be her siblings, and she finds their presence comforting.

Her parents said she’s the most fascinating thing they’ve ever created.

Odessa likes to sit with her progenitors and watch them build machines, ranging anywhere from harmless technology, meant only to advance a field or lifeforms, to dangerous weapons, meant as a ‘just in case’ scenario. Her father is nothing, if not thorough, and, in her opinion, paranoid.

Her mother is an optimistic wonder, unable to view the negative in a situation for too long. She craves success, but she also knows to take her time with a particular feat. She is not without her limits, however, knowing there is a line that can be crossed if she is pushed beyond what she can take.

Odessa, Princess of Dryl, Heir to the Horde, believes her parents are an equally riveting aspect to life on the ship.

She had been perusing the small, if well-stocked and excellent, library that is kept at the back of the spacecraft. Emily and Imp usually follow her, and when they, inevitably, fall asleep from the relaxed atmosphere, Odessa learns as many new things as she is able.

For fun, she decided to read the dictionary. Normally, she wouldn’t. It’s a ‘baby step’ to knowledge, but when she desires laidback reading, she will pick that up. Scanning down the ‘W’ section, she came across the word ‘wedding.’ A noun, though an attributive one. Meaning any one of three definitions, but they all mean the same: a ceremony meant to celebrate the union of people, normally two.

She has heard of there being more than two, but the planets she has been to have, more or less, continued the tradition of monogamy. You would think with hundreds of planets, there would be some type of variation. Her mother said she expected more polyamorous couplings. Her father said most he’s found are often sexless, biological- and societal-wise, thus the concept of romantic partnership isn’t necessary.

But it gets her thinking. There is no doubt her parents love each other, and neither of them are overly sentimental. Well, her mother is. She likes to have pictures of cute things on her desk, and engages with possessing a keepsake or three, if they really mean a lot to her. Her father, not so much. He likes what he has, and that means his family. The only material item that matters is the gemstone engraved with First Ones lettering. Even if it didn’t have to be attached to him, Odessa knows he would never throw it out.

So she sits now, eyeing her creators with curious wide eyes.

Entrapta smiles at her, “Sweetie, can you hand me the drill?”

Quietly, she gives the tool to her mother’s outstretched tendril. Opting to remain standing, she jumps over to where they’re working, getting a closer view. Hunching over, knees to her chin, she observes the proper handling of the instruments. On occasion, they will allow her to try operating an apparatus, but while she is capable, her dexterity isn’t quite there yet.

They work in tandem with wordless expressions and motions, a sign of having known each other for a long time. She thrums her fingers on her kneecaps, absorbed in her typical pastime of inspection.

Entrapta looks up, hearing a beep from above, “Oh, it’s time for a snack!” Using her hair to propel her across the room, she opens the small pantry, kept here for quick breaks. Her hair extends back out to where they are, forming a small, circular seat, “Odessa, do you want to pick out what you want?”

Odessa hops on, swinging her feet. She points to fruit juice, potato chips, and a type of sour candy her father found for her when he went out to scope a more hostile territory that would not have boded well for her mother and her physically.

Coming back together, Odessa snaps back the tab on her soda, taking a plentiful sip. She hears Hordak give a small sigh. He prefers giving her a more balanced nutritional diet to keep her metabolic processes functioning correctly, but considering she needs more calories than any child he had in the Horde, he doesn’t complain, so long as she eats decent meals. Entrapta, as she put it, ate nothing but cake and soda for a long time, and she turned out fine.

He wasn’t too amused but he let it be.

“Did you learn anything in the library?” Entrapta asks, popping a potato chip into her mouth.

Odessa nods.

“Is that why you’ve been more quiet?” Hordak adds, setting down a beaker. He folds his arms across his chest, leaning against the table. “It must’ve been rather intriguing for you.”

Odessa answers with another nod.

Grabbing a notepad and pen, Entrapta places it in front of her daughter, “Can you write it out?”

Sucking on the hard candy, Odessa clicks the pen. Word complete, as well as definition, she holds it up for them to look at.

Hordak leans over Entrapta, the two of them reading it.

He turns to her, “What caught your attention about this word?”

Odessa flips over the page, scribbling her query, “Did you two have a wedding?”

Entrapta drinks her soda. Scratching her cheek, she looks up at her lab partner. She replies, “There didn’t seem to be a need for it, I suppose?”

“Why not?” she writes.

Hordak shrugs, “Your mother and I never discussed it. It’s not an event my species holds sacred, and as you know, many don’t. The concept of holding a celebration to pronounce a commitment is a waste of time. If desires and needs are met, and affection doesn’t dwindle, I don’t need to prove why with some fanciful get-together.”

“Same thoughts?” Odessa asks, pointing to the sentence with her pen, then at her mother.

Entrapta laughs, “I never thought about it! Weddings can be lovely, and there’s loads of delicious food, but it wasn’t something I’d demand.”

Odessa hums in understanding. Scribbling down on the notepad, she asks, “Would you ever want one?”

“I don’t think so. We kinda did it our own way,” Entrapta looks over her shoulder, eyes on Hordak’s face. “Your father proposed to me the moment he asked if I would leave Etheria behind, and travel the universe with him. That was all I ever wanted.”

A genuine smile comes onto his features.

Odessa mirrors it, pleased with the answers.

Entrapta drains the last bit of her soda, throwing away her bag of chips. Dusting off her hands, she asks, “Did you want us to do a wedding? Just to show you?” Shaking her head, Odessa writes, “Maybe one day. When I’m bored.”

That statement makes her parents burst out laughing. Her father even snorts, causing them to cackle harder.

Entrapta and Hordak resume their business. Satisfied with the afternoon’s impromptu lesson, Odessa yawns. Crawling over to a spot near the desk, she cuddles into a makeshift, tiny bed. She falls asleep to her parents’ talking, content.

#entrapdak #entrapta #hordak #spop #shera

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janobang-believer · 5 years ago

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Boris and Theo in Russia

I so desperately want to write something about Boris and Theo in Russia, like:

- Theo had a small hope that Boris would resurface in time for Christmas, like he usually did after Amsterdam

- however, Boris seemed to have disappeared completely; Theo told himself that it’s for the best

- suddenly Theo gets a call from Boris on 4th January, with not much explanation, a lot of expression and an “it’s about time you get to experience a proper Christmas”

- “but Christmas was two weeks ago”/ “come on Potter, the true rozhdestvo is on 7th January, let’s not listen to my Polish colleagues”

- “come with me to Moscow”

- and this is how Theo finds himself in the Russian embassy, which is not even open full time at the moment

- meanwhile, Boris smiles his wicked smile at the elderly lady who works there and moves a cashmere jumper across to her

- a Russian visa is immediately issued; normally it takes about a month

- this is the first time Theo has seen someone use a jumper as a bribe; Boris just laughs and tells Theo that the trick is to never go to any government office without a box of chocolates just in case

- they get a direct flight to Moscow Domodedovo airport the next day

- it’s snowing and no one takes the snow away, “the money for this was stolen long ago” Boris explains curtly

- “can’t remember the last time Moscow was so warm zimoi” it’s only -10 Celsius

- Theo watches the black-and-white trees, dirty snow and abandoned factories from the taxi window, thinking of Boris

- Boris books a hotel not far from Kuznetskiy Most metro station

- they walk towards Tverskaya Street, buying pirozhki with meat

- Theo marvels at the street lights and overall happy atmosphere - very different from what he saw on the way there

- “a lot of money can be stolen on street lights” according to Boris, but despite his cynism, he too seems to enjoy himself

- in Uspenski cathedral, Boris lights a candle; his eyes become slightly orange from all the candle fire

- he murmurs something in Russian, like a prayer - knowing Boris’s relationship with religion, it can be anything

- Theo watches the Orthodox icons on the walls, thinks they should visit Tretyakovskaya gallery tomorrow

- the cathedral gets busier, people are ready to celebrate Christmas eve; Boris lights up another candle and abruptly leaves

- they walk around until Theo can’t feel his fingers

- Boris pulls off his woolen gloves and silently puts them on Theo, ignoring the protests

- they turn into some narrow passageway, the combination of yellow and pink houses reminds Theo of a Battenburg

- “before revolutsiya, this part of Moscow was called Khitrovka” says Boris, “the criminal heaven”

- the passageway is so narrow that if they face each other, backs to the opposite walls, there is only a couple of inches between them

- Theo looks at Boris and thinks of old Moscow described by Tolstoy and later by Bulgakov, the books he’s read for his Russian class

- this place, old Khitrovka, feels a lot more Boris than shiny lights they have just abandoned

- Boris looks up at him, his eyes sparkle, “in those times it would be very inadvisable for someone like you to walk here alone, Potter”

- “but I am not alone” Theo whispers before he can stop himself

- Boris finally steps into some rather dodgy looking bar, before his fingers get frostbite

- the tables are covered by rubber clothes, kleenki, and a tired looking waiter brings them vodka in granennye glasses before they even ask for it

- Theo manages a spasibo

- Boris murmurs along with a song about rabbits

- they order plates of pelmeni with sour cream and a bottle, all under 400 roubles (7 dollars) in total

- Boris engages in a long conversation with the owner, who points at Theo more often than not

- Theo really wants to ask whether the whole universe knows about him

- but it really appears as if the whole Boris’s universe knows about him...

- after this much vodka Theo can’t help but think that he would happily live in this cold and foreign place just to witness more of Boris in his element

- “just wait till you see Odessa” Boris laughs, “and you won’t even need a visa”

- they talk about Russian literature because somehow vodka encourages it

- at a certain point, Boris decides to recite Blok, translating as he goes along

- his translations are shit but Theo understands everything based on the emotions in Boris’s voice

- “Russians take pride in their misery; perhaps there is something to be learnt there” Boris explains in his I-am-drunk-hence-I-can-do-philosophy-even-better-than-usually voice

- clock strikes midnight

- “merry Christmas, Potter”, Boris says tenderly and briefly touches Theo’s hand, quick enough for everyone else to ignore but long enough for Theo to exhale a bit too loudly

- they leave and walk towards Arbat, stopping outside Pushkin’s monument

- Boris looks at Theo, whispering something in Russian

- Theo recognises the lines from the letter that Tatiana wrote to Eugine Onegin

- “no, no one on this earth is there to whom I’d give my heart”

- “but your honour is my guarantee and to that I entrust my destiny”

- and Theo thinks back to the poem, to the way Onegin rejected Tatiana only to realise his mistake years later

- Pushkin’s monument stares at him through the night, as if saying “yes, Theo, this is why I wrote Onegin like that in the first place”

- perhaps it is here, in deserted Arbat, in front of Pushkin, that he should listen to some more Russian wisdom

- he looks at the snowflakes melting in Boris’s hair

- their kiss is cold at first, lips freezing, Theo’s glasses bump into Boris’s face

- warmth inside them works better than vodka though

- Pushkin and his wife Natalia smile carefully at them - but that’s definitely vodka talking

- the breadth of Russian love, however, doesn’t have boundaries

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

Quotes from Pushkin’s Onegin are taken from here: http://www.pushkins-poems.com/Yev311.htm

#the goldfinch #tgf #boreo #boreo headcanon #boris pavlikovsky #theo decker #eugene onegin #moscow #rozhdestvo

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burtlederp · 5 years ago

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Writing Blurb 6.b

My, uploading two days in a row?? Impossible! Or maybe not. This is a continuation from this blurb, links to all parts can be found here. Introducing two new characters, Cindy and Samson! Samson is actually someone I’m reusing from a past blurb.

TW: Blood, noncon nudity, but nothing sexual, panic attack

Humidity was around 90%, unusual for the area, and there was a 75% chance of rain for this afternoon. Well, in Samson's opinion, there was no chance about it, it was definite: the clouds lay thickly over the sky, churned like a thick wool sweater, dark with rain.

It did not deter him, though. Walking stick in hand, he was determined to find at least a few mushroom morsels to take home. It didn't take long for his well-worn hiking boots to darken with dew, every step kicking through wet grass, wet leaves, or wet streams. His footing was sure, not the slightest wobble, even when a rock underfoot gave way. He had spent too many hours out here, knew this earth too well to fall prey to her mischievous tricks.

Cindy had chosen not to accompany him today. They had let the house get too messy, she had announced this morning, and was determined to get it spotless before the first snow.

By the time frost starts forming on the windows, there won't be a surface in this house that's not clean enough to eat off of! She had declared. The memory made Samson smile. Odessa would have loved her.

He hadn't packed a lunch with him today, just a wrapped homemade nut bar enfolded in wax paper, stuffed in a side pocket of his small backpack. He didn't plan on going too far, not today, not when the weather was so clearly planning something. And yet, as noon rolled around and he stood on the peak of one of the smaller mountains, able to see his warm cabin in the distance, he didn't turn. He looked off in the opposite direction, towards the great Timpanogas, something egging him on with soundless whispers. Keep going, their message was, in all languages but words. Cindy had told him to not take too long, wanting him home to help with cleaning. But the spirit pushed him. He looked up to the heavens.

"Well, God," He murmured. "Alright. But you'll have some explaining to do to Cindy." Samson stepped forward, descending slowly the peak. Even despite the threatening rain, it was a beautiful day. Birds were singing, not yet flown for the winter. The colors of the trees were vibrant and beautiful, the aspens' quaking leaves glittering in so many shades of gold that it would make a rich man greedy. The air was cool, but not unpleasantly so, especially if one was moving. A perfect day for hiking.

Samson, at first, made his way down the hill leisurely, enjoying the loud silence of the forest, when he could have sworn he felt hands on his shoulders, shoving him when he paused in a clearing. He stumbled forward, grunting, and turned. But no one was there.

Faster. The spirit whispered. Samson hesitated. Go! And he went. He knew better by now than to not heed God's commands expediently, and so, not knowing what exactly awaited him in either direction, behind or ahead, he moved forward quickly. Even rushed, his footsteps were solid, unwavering, mind whirling with thoughts. What was waiting for him? Did he unknowingly wander too close to an unseen predator? Did a rockslide hang over his head from the peak above, ready to crush him? Or was there something in need of help in front of him? He assumed the prior options, well-aware how far from any public trails he was.

The incline bottomed out in a small valley, cut straight through with a muddy stream. It's trickle was slightly swollen from last night's rain, but still aptly described as a trickle. Across it and above Samson, the earth rose much more steeply for about forty feet, before it became sheer rock cliffs.

The spirit nudged him east, to his left, and he followed, walking along the creek. He knew in his gut that he was getting close to whatever it was, which meant that he hadn't been escaping something. Worry fluttered in his chest as he walked, choosing not to dwell on what-ifs, waiting on the what-is.

He came to a spot where the stream widened a bit, becoming a large, glorified mudhole, and paused. He stared at the mud on the opposite bank. There was a shape there, and at first, his eye couldn't parse it, the form covered in mud. It was an animal, he could tell, but what animal, he couldn't…

The figure breathed, and Samson gasped, able to see it now. A man lay in the mud, practically engulfed in it, mouth barely above the surface of it. Those spots that Samson had at first believed to be red clay were in fact blood, he realized, as he dropped his walking stick, kneeling by the man in an instant. He didn't care about the cold mud, he cared about the man. Samson tenderly wiped mud off the man's face, patting his cheek, but he received no response.

"Sir? Sir, hello," He spoke, but still nothing. The man was pale, deathly so, and cold to the touch, but he had a pulse, and he had breath, though it was ragged and without steady pattern. Samson could tell, just by looking, that the man had many broken bones, too many cuts, few places but his cheeks that weren't mottled with bruises. He lay on his left side, and his right arm, folded almost protectively against his chest, was swollen, and turning quickly from a green-red to a brown-black that almost matched the mud covering it. Death was close by.

Samson didn't waste time, carefully worming his hands underneath the man and lifting him. Grunting with exertion, he pulled the man onto his shoulder, giving himself one free hand with which to pick up his walking stick. Samson paused, orienting himself, finding the quickest route back to the cabin in his head before he quickly set off, walking even faster now. He did not speak to the man, focusing on moving as quickly as he could.

And quickly he did go. He traversed the landscape with ease, not stopping to dally on anything, focused on getting the poor man help as soon as possible.

The rain had begun by the time he arrived home, the lights of the warm cabin bathing the lawn in gold. He stepped up to the back deck and quickly through the backdoor, not pausing for a second.

"Samson, it's about ti--!" Cindy's voice cut off as she caught sight of the figure on Samson's shoulder. She was standing at the kitchen sink, rubber yellow gloves stretching up to her elbow, sink full of bubbles, her mouth agape and eyes wide. He glanced at her briefly before heading quickly to the bathroom.

"Bring--" He started to say over his shoulder.

"I'll get it." She finished, reading his thoughts as she pulled off the gloves.

Samson shifted the man off his shoulder and into his arms as he moved into the bathroom, turning on the light with his elbow. He set him in the bathtub, quickly turning on the water and pulling down the shower nozzle. He waited until the water warmed to redirect it. By the time he was just starting to spray down the man's clothes, starting at his legs, Cindy was entering, a large bag in hand.

"Oh, what a poor dear," She said softly as she crouched beside Samson, running a hand through the unconscious man's muddy hair. She rinsed her fingers under the water of the showerhead. "Come on, he's ice cold, let's get him out of these clothes, first." It wasn't long before the man's clothes sat in a muddy heap beside the toilet, and the couple was able to see the real state of his body.

"Broken shin, wrist, at least a few ribs, nose, definitely a concussion," Cindy judged, folding her stethoscope she had taken from her bag and setting it aside as Samson ran the warm water over the man's face, careful to not let him breathe any in. "Not to mention, well." She gestured towards the man's swollen, discolored, foul-smelling right arm.

"Should we take him to the hospital?" Samson asked, trying to wash as much mud as he could out of the man’s hair.

"Yes, but not tonight. The storm is bound to get worse, and he'll be better off here for now. A trip in the car could just make things worse." She replied, pulling out a scalpel and a small phial of what looked to be dried mealworms. "I'll get these started now, since I'd guess his arm is the thing killing him the fastest," She leaned over the tub's side, taking the man's arm, and looking at it more closely. Air hissed through her teeth as she looked it over. "Poor. Poor condition. Hopefully I can save it. Hand me the soap, love?" Samson obliged.

Cindy was gentle, lathering the pus-filled wound with soap, rinsing it, and then pouring a generous heap of alcohol over the site, as well as the scalpel. As soon as she broke the hard, crusted skin with the blade, though, the man jerked unexpectedly, causing a much larger cut than Cindy had intended to make stretch down his forearm. He gasped, leaning forward suddenly, eyes opening wide and looking around wildly, left hand gripping the tub. He spoke, kicking off the slippery tub bottom, trying to press himself tighter into the corner of the tub as he stared at them fearfully. Whatever he said, though, it was completely incoherent.

"Shh, shh, be still, be still," Cindy cooed, quickly setting the scalpel down, out of view. But the man wouldn't, his dirty nails digging into the tub. He whimpered, shaking, trying to melt into the wall behind him.

"D-don--no, pl-ple-please, please, n-no, nnn, hrrr…!" He spoke fast, eyes glazed, unable to think. Cindy's heart ached for him, and she reached for his hand, to take it and hold it.

"D-don't touch me!" The man spat unexpectedly, with surprising vitriol. His left hard darted forward towards Cindy's face. Samson was faster, his own hand grabbing the man's wrist before he could even get close to Cindy. At the same time, the poor creature tried to support himself with his right hand. Instantly, he fell, sliding deeper into the tub with a choked cry. He curled up, pulling his left hand back weakly, holding it over his head, shaking, crying, speaking nothing they could understand. His bleeding, oozing right arm was tucked against his chest, still stiff and unmoving from the elbow down. Samson and Cindy glanced at each other worriedly.

“We’re just trying to help you, dear,” Cindy said softly, leaning over the tub, looking down at him. A dazed green eye looked back up at her, not trusting, not comprehending.

“Will you let us help you?” Samson asked, his deep voice a low rumble to the man’s ears. The man made no movement to imply he had understood, or even heard them.

“Don’t touch me,” The man croaked, flinching, as Cindy moved ever so slightly. “P-please, please,” He breathed. Cindy laid a hand on Samson’s back, and he looked at her. Meeting her eyes, he knew what she was asking without her speaking. He swallowed.

“I’d really rather not.” He admitted hesitantly.

“He needs help, and if he won’t even let us get close, I can’t do anything.” She pointed out. “Please, Sam.” She pleaded. Samson searched those blue eyes of hers, and sighed.

“Fine. Man, be still.” The last two words were spoken different from others. They were a command, and the man lying in the tub suddenly stiffened. Cindy pulled a syringe from the bag, flicking the side of it. The man’s breathing escalated, tears rolling down his cheeks, moaning fearfully as he watched her lower it. He couldn’t move, and he didn’t know why, and it made his heart race. He couldn’t feel air enter his lungs, he could hear his blood, his sick blood roaring in his ears. He could feel fingers grip his left arm, moving it when he couldn’t. He squeezed his eyes shut, pained, forced, closed-mouth screams sounding from his throat as the needle pricked the inside of his elbow. This was hell. It was hell. He was trapped, unable to move, strangers touching him, his body bare, no protection, too weak to fight much even if he could command his limbs. He felt sick, like he wanted to vomit, to scream properly, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t. He was trapped. Trapped, no way out, no way out, darkness rimming his vision, no air, no breath, sick blood, metallic taste. Something heavy, something thick, in his sick, sick blood, crawling through his body, choking his brain. He couldn’t think, couldn’t think, couldn’t move, couldn’t think, couldn’t couldn’t couldn’t. His limbs, even if he couldn’t move them, felt heavy, like lead, not moving, no strength, no strength to fight. No fight. Sleep. Sleep pulling at him. Now? Why? No, no, no, not sleep, not now, but no fight. No fight to not sleep. Sleep. Sleep. Sleep.

Cindy and Samson watched, feeling ill, as the man tried to fight Samson’s magic, panicking, his fast, shallow, wheezed breaths picking up and slowly, worryingly slowly, calming gradually. His eyelids fluttered, still fighting it for a second longer, before closing, the sedative finally taking effect entirely.

“Thank you, Sam.” Cindy breathed, her voice a whisper in the stunned silence left. He nodded, swallowing. They studied the poor, dirty, bloody creature that lay in their bathroom for a moment longer. Cindy shook herself. “Well, let’s save him, then, after all that.” The witch cleric reached back for the scalpel, and Samson smiled, watching her, admiring her.

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afewmarvelousthoughts · 6 years ago

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Truth Pt. 13

Master List @afewmarvelousthoughtsadmin

Request:

What’s up sug! sorry you’re struggling right now but I’ve come to help you If you could bring this to light for me I’d absolutely love for YOU TO DO JT So basically Bucky X Enhanced reader who are fuckin enemies. Hate each other to every last fiber of their beings bc Bucky is rude and she calls him out on it. AnywHs, they get drunk, truth or dare (go crZy baby) and LOTS LF dirty talk if u wanna do smut but if u don’t then buck taking care of her while she’s drunk cause she admitted her feelings

Pairing: Bucky X Reader (Enhanced)

Summary: Since The Avengers gave you a home the only blight has been Bucky Barnes, a ghost from your past that you can’t seem to shake. It makes you hate him. The feeling, it seems, is mutual. But… a simple game reveals that maybe things aren’t quite so simple. (Post Winter Soldier AU)

Warnings: Everything. Seriously. Feels, angst, violence, death, smut, fluff, trauma, literally everything.

A/N: The moment this crazy story ran away with me I knew so much of this was coming. It’s partially why I wrote the last chapter just to put off writing this one. I don’t want to say anything more because I just can’t but yeah.

Also HUGE thanks to @wonderlandmind4 and @courtmr for betaing this monster.

OH! And there is another chapter after this.

Tags are open!

@midnightdream83 @mywinterwolf @disagreetoagree @breezy1415 @peachthatdrinkslemonade @wonderlandmind4 @piensa-bonito @handplucked @buckysstar @sam-jae @marauderconvos –harder @for-the-love-of-the-fandom @andreagf956 @marvelousmeggi @jewelofwinter @fairislesheets @animegirlgeeky @lydklein1 @katecolleen @siriuslycloudy2 @zannemes

Tony insisted everyone meet for brunch on Sunday around 11am. While you appreciate the gesture, after the late-night surrounded by so many people you’re kind of dreading it.

“We should make an appearance.” Bucky insists, slipping into his jeans while you’re still in one of his tee’s and your underwear in bed.

“Who even are you?”

“What?”

“Since when are you so keen on socializing?”

He laughs, “Guess you’re rubbing off on me.”

“Yeah,” begrudgingly you crawl from the bed.

“It’s a low bar babe.” As you walk to the closet he grabs you and places a nipping playful kiss on the back of your neck.

“Mmm, sure you wanna go?” You purr, reaching back and pulling his hips close.

“Yep,” he slaps your ass hard. “Get dressed.”

Just about everyone is lounging in the common space save for Hill, who you saw leave the party last night with a knockout blonde.

“Morning!” Steve booms from the kitchen, pouring himself some OJ. From across the room, a blueberry hits Steve right between the eyes.

“We talked about this Rogers. Inside voices,” Clint groans, head falling back on the couch.

“Go a little hard last night Clint?” You pat his forehead as you walk by, he grunts in response.

Tony rounds the corner, “Oh the IT couple is here finally.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Tony laughs and plucks the paper Sam holds up from his hands.

“Check out who’s gracing the front of the Styles section.” He presses the Times into your hands and you stare down at a picture of you and Bucky from the night before.

The story is just a general overview of the gala but there, big and in color, are you and Bucky on the dance floor. It must have been just after the song ended. His hands are on your waist, the smile on his face brighter than the sun, your head is tossed back in a laugh. You look like any happy couple… Save for the fact that you weren’t just any couple.

“You’re on the website too,” Nat walks up and hands you her tablet.

There’s a gallery from the evening featuring everyone but there are quite a few candid photos of you and Bucky. One your head is resting on his chest, his lips pressed to your forehead. The caption reads: “Avenger team members, Barnes and Michaels, share a tender moment.” You aren’t sure how you feel about it. From the tension in Bucky’s jaw, he doesn’t know either.

“You can’t buy good PR like that,” Pepper says making herself and Natasha mimosas. “The two of you were just perfect.”

You both only stay for a bit. Unsettled by your images being so widely shared after living your lives in shadow for so long. It was a very abrupt change…

Back in the apartment, you pick up the paper that was always left by the door, Bucky liked doing the crossword. You look at the picture again. Shaking your head.

“You ok?” Bucky comes up behind you, gently rubbing your back.

“Yeah… just… my mom is definitely turning in her grave right now.”

“Good or bad way?”

“Good,” you laugh a small hollow sound. “Her daughter in the society pages. She’d be beside herself. I can hear her now,” your accent tries to echo your mom’s soft German accent. “Finally you got it right my little firefly.”

“Firefly?” His expression is achingly soft.

“Mhm. I used to be obsessed with them when I was little. Always chasing them and catching them for her. So it became a nickname.”

“I bet they’re both very proud of you, doll.”

You shrug. “I’m… I’m gonna hop in the shower.”

Two days later you go into the office for a pen to keep score in Scrabble and notice something new on the wall. The picture of you two from the paper beautifully framed. Your breath catches in your throat. It’s placed next to a picture of a young you with your parents, all three of you smiling and happy and a photo of him with his sisters and Steve, all of them smiling. Happy moments spanning almost a century, the two of you connecting them…

“Ich liebe euch beide,” (I love you both.) you whisper to your parents’ photo. “Sorry, it took me so long to get it together… I wish you could meet him… you’d like him.” Your eyes slide to the picture of you both.

You kiss your fingers and press them to the picture of your little family before wiping your eyes and heading out.

Bucky’s leg is bouncing at a ridiculous rate until you set your hand on his knee, giving it a squeeze. He looks at you, knowing he looks like he’s about to burst open. It’s taking everything in him to shut up.

“So,” your voice is so steady, he can’t understand how you’re not as nervous as he is right now. “You’re sure this one is legit?”

Tony sighs, “Yeah. After the last two, we figured if we came across something similar to your signature again we’d monitor the area for a bit longer, see if or how the readings change.”

He runs a hand over his face as he looks over the images floating over the table. “The readings are strong… really strong. The draw on the power grid is insane. And… well, we’ve picked up all the variations of your energy signature… it’s not coincidence.”

The fact that the chances of them finding assets similar to you are incredibly high isn’t what has him on edge. It’s that the industrial complex the readings are emitting from is just outside of Odessa in Ukraine… It’s too close to what was once Hydra’s hotbed… It’s very possible that this is the facility you were made at, he knows you have to realize this.

The last place with a matching energy signature had been a place they’d housed you for a while. That alone wrecked you. To go back to where it all started… who knew what that may do to you emotionally.

“How volatile is this, Tony?” Steve’s tone is gravel.

Tony just stares a bit and Bruce answers, “Very. The emissions have been steadily climbing over the past couple of weeks. Only thing is we can’t really get a lock on how many are running the place… no way to know what we may run into.”

“But we can’t ignore it,” Sam’s gaze is locked on the screen’s, determination setting his features.

“No,” Tony agrees in a solemn voice. “We absolutely can’t.”

They head out tomorrow evening so they’ll land in Ukraine in the early morning hours. The hope being that the cover of darkness will give them a tactical advantage, the last thing they want is for them to abandon ship and set up elsewhere again. With any luck, this will be how they put an end to this particular project once and for all. He knows that will bring you peace of some kind.

Once the tactical brief is over and you’re back in the safety of your apartment Bucky wordlessly pulls you toward the bedroom. He needs to feel your skin against his. He needs to touch you, set you alight in the best way possible, see the sparkles in your eyes.

“Buck-” he cuts you off with a kiss, his hands sliding under your hoodie. Your body responds to his touch the way he hoped it would goosebumps rising, heart rate increasing, your hands grasping the waist of his jeans to hold him close.

At this point, you’ve learned the ins and outs of the other’s body. Even so every time he feels your touch it feels like the first time. He still is amazed you want him. He’s still so goddamn thankful.

He pulls your hoodie over your head and slides your leggings down your powerful thighs. Holding you by your hips he lifts you just a touch and gently tosses you back on the bed. Your small giggle fills him with warmth.

Once you’re free of your leggings entirely he runs kisses down your thighs, letting his stubble rub against the tender skin in that way that makes you shudder. His tongue flits across your clit causing you to let out a low sensual sound. He’s aching, throbbing against the confines of his jeans. He ignores it. Right now he wants to make you feel good. To chase away any thoughts that aren’t pleasure.

After he’s lost count of the number of times he’s made you come you pant, “No more, please. I… you, I need to feel you, Bucky, please.” He smiles. It’s cute how you said please as if he’d ever say no.

Morning comes too quickly for his liking.

You shower together and it’s not until you’re drying your hair he finally says something about the mission, “If you can’t handle this, Y/N it’s ok. No one would judge you.”

Turning you give him a weak smile, “Are you really worried that I can’t handle it, babe? Or can you not��”

He traces your brow with his metal fingers, “I just don’t want this to get to you like the last one or… the first one… with the woman…” You take his hand in yours, studying his face.

“It won’t.”

“You don’t know that, Y/N.”

“I do.” This time your smile is full, lighting up your features. “I have you. Nothing will ever be like it was before.” You look away, your brow knitting before meeting his gaze once more, “Bucky… I… you… I don’t feel broken anymore. Because of you.”

His chest constricts. Immediately he pulls you to him, crushing you to his chest. “You were never broken, Y/N. Never.”

As soon as the jet lands a mile away from the facility, you steel yourself. The fizzing in your head and a sick feeling in your stomach that began the moment you saw the shots Tony pulled up told you everything your own memories couldn’t really touch.

You had done your best to relay what information you could in today’s briefing. Everything from writing and drawing to miming, like some weird party game, was utilized. Hydra was smart, they knew it was always best for their dogs to know where home was but to never be able to lead anyone to it.

For what it was worth they knew the three-story building in the center of the complex was the main hub. The others were just storage, additional offices, nothing worth too much note and as best they could tell they weren’t being used at the moment. Underneath that building and snaking under the complex were at least four stories of labs, R & D facilities, medical facilities, training areas, holding cells, etc.

Since Tony and Bruce’s scans had revealed the same shifting energy signature that you emitted it was safe to assume they had, at least somewhat successfully, created another asset with abilities like your own if not multiple. The team is aware there’s a chance these people will likely be similar to the one you Nat, Steve, and Bucky faced all those months ago. Because of this the general consensus was to put them down, they couldn’t save them and they would be too big of a risk otherwise.

The main goal is to remove the possibility of these assets being sent out to wreak whatever havoc Hydra had planned. After that, they would get any intel they possibly could hard copy or otherwise and destroy any means they used to create you. With any luck, this would be the end of this branch of Hydra’s research. And you could close this chapter of your story once and for all.

“Alright,” Steve gets everyone’s attention, standing near the front of the jet. “We’re all clear on what we’re facing? And that Y/N has point here?”

A resounding Yes sends chills up your spine. No one knew what they were walking into, not really, and the idea of being the lead… You weren’t a leader. You were an asset. Trained to infiltrate, kill, obey. You didn’t lead you were led… led until you’d finally tell someone to go fuck themselves. Then they just reset you… a machine made, for one thing, destruction.

“Y/N?” Sam’s voice is soothing next to you.

“Yeah, sorry. I’m good.” Bucky’s metal hand gives yours a gentle squeeze.

Sighing heavily you release Bucky’s hand and stand next to Steve. “Like Tony said earlier, Jarvis can scan for energy signatures and alert everyone if something is about to go haywire but it’s not perfect. If you feel your skin begin to prickle, the temperature drop, or anything that’s remotely odd move on quickly. You engage with someone like me one shot to the head or the heart is the best course of action,” the tension around this point is palpable. “Physically attack as little as possible because it could trigger them to blow and if they’re good enough they can kill you on contact.”

You feel the energy shift under your own skin, “And if I say run, get the fuck out. We’re not losing anyone over this.” Your fist flexes by your side, thin tendrils of static glowing around it.

“Let’s end this.” Steve plants a heavy reassuring hand on your shoulder.

Everyone knows what their role is. Sam and Clint are covering the perimeter and outbuildings, taking out anyone they see and being their eyes on any suspicious activity that may indicate something going wrong inside. Tony is with Natasha and Hill while you’re with Steve and Bucky, the idea being that each grouping had someone who could lock in on energy signatures quickly. They would take the upper levels while your team would take the lower.

Though energy made it hard to scan for movement and heat signatures Tony was able to modify the coms to work. They had tested it over and over with your own power thrumming nearby and you were both confident he had it sorted. At the very least, you’d all be able to communicate what was happening.

Sam stops the van just outside the first building in the complex and you all file out before he tucks it away somewhere.

No one engages with you all on the first floor. It’s eerily quiet but you can feel that low pulse of power coming from somewhere below you, generators and something far more familiar. Bile rises in your throat and you struggle to force it down.

Tony’s group splits to head up while Steve and Bucky look for an access point down. You can’t seem to move. After a minute Bucky realizes you’re stuck.

“Baby,” his arms encircle you, the feeling of his touch and his familiar scent grounding you. “If you can’t do this-”

You shake your head. When you open your mouth at first nothing comes out, some part of your brain screaming that you aren’t supposed to speak here. “I w… want t… to.” You stutter but manage it. Small as it is it feels like a victory.

Steve lays a warm hand on your upper back, it's comforting to have both of them with you. “I got nothin’ but there’s gotta be a way down.”

There’s a ringing in your ears as you try to think, you press your forehead into Bucky’s chest squeezing your eyes closed trying your best to focus. It hits you, no stairs from here, an elevator hidden. Without a word you pull away from the both of them and walk robotically toward an office to the right.

The walls are wood paneling, a desk and chairs and books sit as though they’re just waiting for someone to come back from lunch. You know they’ve been in the same position for near 30 years. Automatically your hand reaches for the pencil cup, fingers effortlessly locating the one pen that doesn’t move. The innocuous sound of a pen clicking is followed by the whooshing of an elevator.

You all exchange a glance. An elevator was risky but… it would be faster.

“Y/N found an access point down. Elevator, fifth office door on the right, click the red pen in the cup. We’ll take it to the bottom and work our way up.” Steve updates the rest of the team.

“Be careful,” Natasha responds.

“We’ve cleared the second level, no one here. Once we’re done we’ll head down too.” Tony sounds tense. Someone should be here. Likely they were all downstairs… waiting.

Steve presses the fourth button, at least you were right about that. The doors close and each of the men takes one of your hands. From the corner of your eye, you see Bucky cast Steve a small but appreciative smile. As the elevator slows Steve releases your hand and moves in front of you both, shield out.

The doors open and there’s silence for a moment. All three of your heads swivel to the left, enhanced ears picking up on the slightest sounds. It’s over quickly. Steve shields you all from the bullets. One asset is like you, but like the other their attacks are unrefined. Steve manages to block a bolt with the shield.

“Down!” You command Steve and Bucky.

They hit the ground and a second later you send a white-hot bolt of energy slicing through the group. Some dodge of course but none save for the asset is fast enough to avoid your next volley. The asset lunges at you, hands sparkling. Bucky plants a bullet between their eyes in an instant and they’re down, energy dissipating.

As you make your way through the level you’re met with two other factions, neither have another asset like you though. There are a couple of muzzled assets but they go down like all the rest. This is not, after all, a mission where mercy can be afforded.

You’re picking your way through the medical ward. The pulsating energy from the generators makes your skin tingle, small sparks rising from you every now and then. A couple of computers are still running and you wipe them clean, hoping there’s something useful there. Once you take what you need you fry them to a pile of bubbling metal and plastic.

The underground levels are expansive, and after almost two hours of fighting and searching, you’re still not done here. Every passing minute seems to bring a new fragment of memory shooting through your skull. You keep them to yourself though, it’s not the time for them.

Tony’s voice crackles in through the coms. “Nat’s down. Entered what looked like a room with a boxing ring, it was electrified or something. Her vitals are steady but she’s unconscious.”

You grasp your head in your hands, trying to convince yourself that your skull isn’t going to fly apart. “T… training,” is all you can get out.

“Didn’t copy,” Hill’s voice chimes in.

“Y/N says those are training areas,” Steve looks to you for confirmation and you nod. “Avoid any room like that you see.”

You shake your head redirecting your mind to thoughts that weren’t about the facility so your tongue would obey you. “Go help them.” Steve looks like he’s going to argue, “We’ve got this. With Nat down, they’re down a person up there and someone needs to have an eye on her while she comes too since we can’t just leave her in the jet.”

“She’s right Steve. And in charge,” he throws his friend a wink. “We can handle ourselves. Go.”

Steve nods, “I’m heading to you, hold your position.”

You think this area is almost clear. At least until you cautiously you open two double doors that lead into a viewing area. Chairs are aligned in rows, bolted to the ground. Maybe enough for 20-30 people However they don’t face a screen.

In the corner of the room is a clear wall of what seems to be some kind of reinforced glass set between steel beams. Beyond that wall is a decently sized room. The only entry from where you stand is a door made out of the same clear material lined in metal supports. The two other walls of the room are stark white save for a window revealing a dark space beyond.

Your breath hisses out of you, Bucky turns concerned. “What is it?” Like a fish dropped on dry land your mouth opens and closes, nothing but small noises escaping, your brain screaming to tell him but your body unable to comply. “It’s ok baby,” the fingers of his right hand caress your cheek. “It’s ok.” Quickly he leans down and kisses you softly.

His touch. That’s what you focus on. Grabbing his hand you think about how good it feels when his skin is against yours, how good it felt last night to be with him. This seems to work, to allow you to take back some authority.

“There’s more.” Your voice is low but steady. “Through there.” You point toward the glass. “Research I think.” Bucky nods and you both proceed.

As you get closer though the energy levels rise higher. This room is like the one that zapped Nat… His hand goes for the handle.

“Wait!” He freezes. “Let me go first. I think it… it’s…” Fuck them for taking your words. You hold up your hand and let the power lash out in mini lightning bolts to demonstrate.

“Got it. Then we leave it.”

“No.”

His expression is exasperated when he turns to you. “Y/N you said-”

“It won’t hurt me. We have to clear everything.”

“Fine, if it goes too far back though.”

“I won’t proceed. There’s gotta be a way to shut it off close by anyway. I’ll look for that first.” He’s clearly not thrilled and honestly, you’re not either but you want to do this right. You kiss his cheek before opening the door.

The door and the walls are at least ten inches thick, the space around the door reinforced to a ridiculous amount and clearly only meant to be opened from the outside. Immediately you’re flooded with that energy, pure power, electric and hot flowing into you. After a few steps, you stop, having to take a moment to gather yourself.

“Doll?” Bucky calls after you, his voice dripping with concern.

“I’m ok,” you hold your right arm out thin strands of energy flowing from you to the ground. To your surprise the feeling clears your head a bit, you feel more in control than you have this whole time.

“I think… I think there’s one more level.” You turn to him. “Down. Where this,” you hold open your hand and light pulses so bright it’s almost blinding, “comes from. “Where I-”

“Y/N!” Bucky bellows moving to enter the room despite the risk. You’re incredibly thankful the door slams, preventing him from killing himself in here. You hear him fire his gun at the glass to no avail as you turn.

The room to the back is lit all the sudden, the power around you beginning to dissipate. A comm seems to switch on and you can hear Bucky’s voice screaming.

“Goddamnit! Steve, we have a situation back and left of where we split. Double doors. Backup now!”

You’re about to turn to tell him there’s gotta be another entrance and that you can hear him when a panel in the wall opens. You brace yourself for a fight, light coursing up your arms, lashing out ready to be released. A smirk plays on your face, they charged these rooms to trap people but only managed to give you a boost, unfortunate for them.

Instead of an asset or an agent though, a dignified older woman walks out. Her hair white and pulled into a familiar high bun. The set of her shoulders, the way her head is held, the way her eyes settle on you…

“Y/N!” Bucky screams, pounding on the door, trying in vain to get it open.

“Please, Sargeant Barnes, don’t make a fool of yourself,” the woman looks at him in disgust her accent softly Germanic. “This room was built to contain someone far more powerful than a recycled grunt like you could ever be.” She looks back to you, “Hello my little firefly.”

“Hurry!” Bucky bellows into the com. “Y/N! Baby doll, look at me.” He sounds like he’s a world away.

“M… mom?” You’re going to be sick you can feel it.

“Yes liebling,” she keeps her distance but gives you a smile. “It’s been too long. Longer to you I know. I wish that wasn’t the case but-”

You press the heels of your hands to your forehead as images flash. She was here… she had been… everywhere? What-

“This was not my preferred way my firefly but as always you have forced my hand.”

“I don’t-” you manage to breathe out. She takes a step toward you and you step back. Bucky is still pounding at the door with his metal fist, determined.

“You were born to be a wunderkind.” You can hear Steve in your crackling com, trying to find you but her voice cuts through everything. “My wunderkind. The honor to be chosen to be your mother…” She places her hand over her heart, “You were going to be the beginning of a new order for Hydra. A child raised in power-”

“W... what?!” This doesn’t make sense.

“Do you think you just happened to be stronger, faster, smarter all around better than your peers. No, my firefly.”

Suddenly you remember doctors visits throughout your childhood always with her. Your mother giving you injections telling you not to worry your dad because he was already so busy… The pushing the requirement to be perfect, it all takes on a sinister air.

“No, we made you better, all so you could become who you were meant to be. But instead, you threw it all away.” She sighs, a sound you grew familiar with as a teenager. “You forced my hand then, you’ve done so now.”

Steve is there, pounding with his shield, it’s not doing much, they call for Tony but you just can’t seem to care.

“It was one thing to work with trash like that,” she gestures to Bucky and Steve. “We could, I could, tolerate it while we got things sorted but to be with it. To debase yourself with Zola’s dog. I couldn’t stand by.”

“What did you say…” You growl, power once more pulsing.

“Don’t listen to her, Y/N!” Bucky calls out.

“I created you to surpass everyone, to stand above humanity. I made you-”

“You made me into a monster!” A bolt crashes just in front of her. Unimpressed she looks down.

“I made you into a god!” She sneers, “You made yourself into a disappointment.” That word hits you like a bullet to the chest. “Filling your body with filth. Associating with low lives. I did what any mother would do when it was clear there was no hope. I saved you from yourself!”

She takes a deep breath and composes herself. “We would have brought you back home in a gentler fashion. But when I saw those photos… I knew I had to extract you sooner.”

“Home,” you spit the word.

“Yes. This is your home, Y/N. With me.” You hear Tony in the com he’s coming. Once more she sighs, “No matter, soon you’ll remember who you are, what you were born to be. Doch’,” the Russian word for daughter zings through you.

Immediately you lift a glowing hand in threat, “Don’t.”

“Ubegay,” a smirk lifts her lips.

Your hand shakes as does your voice, “Mama, don’t.” Even after everything… the thought of killing your mother…

“Boginya,” you try to shoot her but you miss. “Rassvet.”

“Bucky!” You scream, power slipping away from you in response to the words. Frantically you run to the glass by the door.

“Y/N! Tony hurry!”

“Vybrannyy.”

He presses close as Steve keeps pounding at the handle, “Look at me baby,” his voice echoes over the com. “Stay-”

“Zashchishchat’.” You scream and fall to your knees holding your head. He kneels mouth moving but you can’t really understand the words. “Pod’yem.” Your body feels so heavy your head filled with humming, static, pain.

“Y/N!” He screams your name over and over. This man…

“Dvadtsat’,” another man outside, metal man. You rise slowly and turn toward the woman speaking. The woman with the words. “Dtanovit’sya.”

She smiles broadly, “Svetlyak.” Everything in you... freezes. “There’s my firefly.”

There’s a loud noise behind you. You don’t think to look, haven’t been told to. No orders. Just wait.

Something circular swooshes through the air hitting the woman with the words in the stomach, she crumples to the ground. You don’t care, she didn’t give you orders to protect her.

“Y/N! Baby!” A man with a metal arm takes you by the shoulders, shakes you. “Y/N?! Come on, fight it! Come back to me.” He looks so upset… did he give you orders? He seems familiar…

“Soldat?” That’s right, the arm. The Soldier. Not a handler but he sometimes was like one. He looks at you horrified. The other men just watch.

Would he know what you were to do? “Kakovy nashi zakazy?” (What are our orders?)

“Oh god.” He runs a hand over his face and through his hair, turning away. When he turns back he strikes you, hard, with his metal hand.

You hit your knees. Head reeling from the blow. From Bucky’s blow.

“Barnes!” Tony bellows.

Bucky ignores him collapsing next to you. “I’m so sorry baby,” he pulls you to him. “I’m so sorry. I’m so-”

He’s pressed your face to his chest, rocking you a little, “Thank you,” you croak.

He holds you at arm's length, “Y/N?!”

You nod, “Thank you. You kept your promise.”

His face collapses. For a minute you hold one another both knowing that the end had just come so close.

There’s a wheezing, a cough, before, “Pathetic.”

That bitch. You release Bucky and stand, pushing past Steve and Tony who are dumbfounded at everything they’ve seen. Standing over your mother you feel power pulse up your spine.

“I thought you’d be my biggest victory, you’re nothing. Too weak for greatness like your father.” She forces herself up coughing once more, blood at the edges of her mouth. “I should have put you both down.”

“Fuck you,” you growl. About to blast a hole through her chest.

“Hail, Hydra.” Immediately she begins to foam at the mouth.

“No you don’t get to-” A wild feral scream tears through you and you blast her straight to the chest once, twice, before you let loose a third Bucky wraps you in his arms turning you away from your mother's corpse.

You break. Screaming and screaming until it doesn’t even seem to be coming from you. Body pulsing bright all over. Your whole life… everything you thought you had known or that you had tried to draw peace from was a lie. Your own mother… Had she killed your dad… All because you…

Bucky’s lips are next to your ear, softly he begins to sing. Fly Me To The Moon. “In other words, hold my hand,” his hands slide over your own, sparking with energy. “In other words, baby, kiss me…” Slowly you both sink to the floor, your screams giving way to sobs. “You are all I long for, All I worship and adore,” he rocks you gently your back to his chest. “In other words, I love you.”

As he finishes you’re able to get a hold of yourself, body no longer glowing dangerously. Breathe a little normally.

“It’s clear back there,” you hear Hill’s voice say softly to Steve and Tony. “Got some data from the computer. I don’t think she expected to lose, there’s a lot there.”

“Great,” Tony whispers. He kneels in front of you, “Sparks,” his gauntleted hand rests gently on your thigh, “let’s get you outta here.”

Bucky releases you and you stand on shaky legs. “Natasha?” You ask looking to Hill.

“She’s ok,” she gives you a warm smile.

The relief from that statement is short lived. A massive pulse of energy thrums somewhere beneath your feet.

Your eyes shoot to Tony’s as Jarvis pipes over the com, “There seems to be some sort of anomaly, I cannot get a lock on it but I suggest immediate evacuation.” You nod agreeing.

The elevators are down, likely an automatic shut off when there’s a breach like the one you’re feeling. You know that somewhere there have to be stairs but no one had found them yet. Tony blasts through the doors without a thought.

“We could climb up,” Steve says.

“Too slow.” He steps in and rips a hole through the roof, “Get in, I can pull it up.” You do as he says and Tony pulls the car up at the first-floor doors Steve pulls them open. The three of you let Hill out first before crawling out yourselves. Once everyone is clear he releases the car and it plummets to the ground.

Another pulse of energy rattles the windows on the building. It’s so like your own for a moment you’re scared it’s coming from you.

“Sir, I believe the facility is set to demolish itself,” Jarvis’ unfazed tone rings in your ear.

“Right. Let’s get going. Wilson, get that van ready we need to get the hell out now,” Steve calls out as he starts for the exit.

Hill is fast but she's not enhanced and the distance between the main building and the van is about 150 yards. Tony scoops her up and the three of you run at full speed. Almost to the van, you feel a massive pulse vibrate the ground under your feet, curling up your burning legs you freeze.

Bucky looks at you from the door, “Y/N, come on baby.” Another wave, this time you hear the buildings around you groan.

It’s not just the building that’s set to blow… You realize with a sick feeling… it wasn’t that your mother didn’t think she’d lose… she just knew it wouldn’t matter either way. When this detonates, you don’t know if it’s an asset or multiple or what… but the blast will be devastating. If it’s even fractionally as powerful as it feels Odessa will be in the bottom of a crater in the coming minutes… All those innocent people…

Bucky’s approaching you, to drag you to the van. Tony hovers close by, you look to him as you start to back up, “Remember that promise, Tony?”

“Yeah…”

“Time to cash in.” Bucky is almost to you and you shoot a light shock toward him to slow him down before you bolt back to the main building.

“Y/N!”/“Goddamnit!” You hear Tony and Bucky exclaim simultaneously. There are the sounds of a scuffle.

“Tell me what’s happening Sparky!” Tony grunts, the sound of metal on metal ringing in your com.

“It’s bad, the blast, the energy, real bad. I can stop it just get him!” You look over and see Bucky in hot pursuit before Tony grabs him.

You don’t look back again. You can’t. Despite hearing Bucky call out over and over.

Unable to stand it you rip the com out of your ear, crushing it in your hand. Even without it, even with the rumble of the earth, you can make out the fight. Should have told them to go, get away… But you can keep them safe. You will keep them safe.

At the face of the building, you take a deep breath and jump, releasing a blast from your palms to propel you up. This wasn’t something you did often, and sometimes it didn’t work but right now you have no choice, you’ve got to get to the roof. From there you can channel the energy through the building pull it up, focus it into something concentrated rather than an uncontrollable destructive blast. It will be unlike anything you had ever done but… you had to try.

It gets you about halfway. You grab a window ledge with both hands, using everything you have you push yourself up, releasing your grip and letting out more energy. Another wave of force almost causes you to lose your grip on the edge of the roof but you hang on and get there.

Kneeling at the edge you place your hands flat on the concrete, much as you had that day you thought of killing Bucky in the field you send your sense out to find your target down, down, down using the metal supports of the building itself to guide you. There.

It feels like people, three of them, assets, just like you… all about to blow…

Looking out you can see them still. Bucky and Tony are struggling, the whisper of Bucky’s screams echoing through the abandoned buildings. Everyone else standing unsure of what to do. All these people you… love.

You focus with all your might to draw the power of the three hopeless souls into something you can control. As you do so your heart shatters in your chest because now you know you aren’t getting through this, not if you want to save them all… and you never fucking said it.

Not to any of them and not to the one person who really needed to hear it… You told him with your body, with your concern, in every subtle sweet way a person can but those three words… words you knew with all your being were true… you never let them fall from your lips… and now…

Your own power, coursing through the frame of the building, begins to act like a sort of intangible conduit as it harnesses that of the three assets. Strangely it’s easy, their force so undisciplined, seems almost happy to find a path to flow into. The building groans, smoke emitting from it here and there, windows blowing from the rising heat. White streaks of light are beginning to become visible, like concentrated lightning, running straight for you.

As this overload flows into your body it takes everything in you to not scream, the pain is so blinding. You don’t want them… him to hear that though. Raising your other arm to the pink early dawn sky you pray to anything that will hear you that this plan will work… that you’re strong enough to contain this force. Like some bizarre lightning rod, the power thrums through you crackling from your fingertips, your body glowing bright…

“Like a firefly,” you think.

“Straight up, straight down, not out, not out, contain this contain it.” You focus on those words, determined. The power is about to break, you can feel it. The light almost blotting out everything, taking away your view of them.

“I love you,” you whisper wishing he could hear.

Then there’s nothing but light, and pain, and surrender.

#bucky barnes #bucky #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #the winter soldier

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yestakeahike-blog · 6 years ago

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My Hiking Bucket List

Do you know how many trails there are in the United States? Ha, me either. But I do know that there are thousands of different options--probably more. As I thought about the hikes I have already embarked on, as well as the many more that I want to try out, I decided to start compiling a bucket list of the hikes I want to go on in my life time. However, as I started digging into researching different trails, I realized that my bucket list sort of read as a bucket list of the National Parks I want to visit. So I’ll divide the trails up into their respective parks if they have one. Starting with one hike that I am planning to cross off my list in about a month, in Rocky Mountain National Park.

Rocky Mountain National Park

Lake Odessa Trail

Lake Odessa Trail is a moderate level trail that is about four miles out and four back. The trail leads out to Lake Odessa and climbs up through a thick forest for about three miles before it drops down for the last mile to the lake. The total elevation gain is about 1,200 feet.

The reason this one has made my list is because I like the distance of it, as it will make for a good day hike. It also gives you the chance to veer off and see Lake Helene. The views at Lake Odessa were also a deciding factor in adding this to the list.

Yosemite National Park

Dewey Point Trail

Dewey Point Trail is a moderate trial that is about 12.5 miles round trip. From the trail head to the final destination there is only a 300 foot gain in elevation. This is a fairly easy trail to hike, but the last part has a steep downhill to get down to the point itself, which equals a steep climb when you turn around!

This one made the list because of the views at the top. Wow. That’s all I’ve got to say about that.

Grand Canyon National Park

Widforss Trail

Widforss Trail is a ten-mile round trip trail that usually takes about four to five hours to complete. Although it is a ten-mile hike, the first 2.5 miles boast a lot of scenic opportunities. If you pick up a brochure before you hit the trail, it will guide you to where you should be stopping to check out the views. The trail is about 8,000 feet above sea level so even though it is a fairly flat trail, if you aren’t accustomed to the altitude it can still be very tiring. Most of the trail is shaded by trees, but some parts are not, and it can get hot. However, you do get the benefits of both the forest views as well as the canyon views on one hike.

This one made my list as it gives you the best of both worlds in the Grand Canyon. You get a little bit of trees, as well as the epic canyon views. The first 2.5 miles are said to be especially beautiful, which drew me in further. Plus, it is the perfect amount of time to make it a day hike and still have time for more activities in the Grand Canyon!

Glacier National Park

Swiftcurrent Pass

Swiftcurrent Pass is 14.2 miles roundtrip. The total elevation gain is 2,400 feet, and the trail is rated to be a strenuous hike. Along the way you pass by a couple of lakes as well as great views of Swiftcurrent Valley before you finally reach the top of Swiftcurrent Mountain--which is highest maintained trail in Glacier National Park.

I’m definitely in this one for the views. I did want to have at least one strenuous level hike on this list too, but I knew that the outcome needed to be worth it. I think this one would be; it looks absolutely breath taking!

Great Smoky National Park

Alum Cave Trail

Alum Cave Trail is a 5 mile trail out and back. About half way out you hit Alum Cave Bluffs, and if you continue on you will hit the summit of Mount Le Counte after another 2.5 miles. This summit allows for views of the vistas below. The total elevation change is about 1,200 feet. It is said to be fairly steep and follows the edge of a ridge for parts of the climb. The only down side of this trail is that there are no pets allowed!

This one made the list for the sole reason that it leads to a cave. As someone who loves a good cave exploration, and has been to many caves in the Wisconsin area, I was all on board when I saw the name of this hike. Then I saw some pictures and I was completely sold.

Mount Rainier National Park

Green Lake Trail

Green Lake Trail is moderate level, 10.8-mile trail round trip. The total elevation gain is about 1,000 feet. Usually, the trail takes hikers about 4.5 hours to complete. While this trail ends at Green Lake, you also pass Ranger Creek and Ranger Falls along the way. On the trail you get to experience walking through 800-year-old Douglas firs.

This trail made my list as it is considered to be one of the most serene hikes in the Mount Rainier park. Plus, it not only leads to a beautiful, peaceful lake pictured below, but it also passes by a waterfall.

Arches National Park

Tower Arch

This 3.5 mile trail has some steep climbs, but it does end at an arch with a tower attached! This trail isn’t as popular so you get away from the crowds if you choose this hike. It is rated to be more difficult than most of the hikes in Arches.

I chose this trail because it is a little more remote, and I’m not a huge fan of crowds. Plus, the views look amazing!

Delicate Arch

This is a little over a three mile hike, and is considered to be more strenuous. It can get really hot on the trail and quite crowded as the Delicate Arch is considered to be one of the most popular arches in the world. Some of the rocks on this climb can also be a little slippery which can make things more challenging as well.

I chose this trail because I think if you’re headed to the Arches National Park, you might as well embark on as many hikes as you can since they are shorter and aren’t going to take as much time. Plus, I don’t think you can give up the opportunity to see the Delicate Arch if you have it!

John Muir Trail

I know this isn’t a National Park, but this trail passes through quite a few. Starting in Yosemite National Park, it moves through Ansel Adams Wilderness, Sequoia National Park, King’s Canyon National Park, and ends about 215 miles later atop Mount Whitney, which is the highest peak in the continental US. This trail aligns, for the most part with the Pacific Crest Trail in California.

I picked this trail as something to day dream about. This would obviously take many, many days to complete. Most people set aside a whole month to take the trek. So this is my dreamer trail. I hope to be able to one day set aside that much time to embark on this hike across the state of California, and to be able to experience the many National Parks that it passes through that I did not include above.

For now, that’s my list. But I know that I will continue to add more on as I continue my research on different parks, and as I cross them off my list. That’s the beauty of hiking, you really can’t run out of options. I am sure I could find a trail in every single National Park that I want to hike, however, to make it realistic for the time being, I picked the National Parks that have already sparked my interest, or the ones that I already have plans to visit.

As I continue to add more on to this developing list, I know I will be looking to add places in Alaska and Hawaii, as well as in Yellowstone National Park, Joshua Tree National Park, Grand Teton National Park and Redwood National Park.

Cross one off and add another. My bucket list may never be completed that way, but it will keep me moving, and keep the adventure flowing. For the next month, I’ll continue my hikes around the driftless area, but come July I’ll be headed west to cross some trails off my list.

Stay tuned for more updates on making hiking successful as well as updates on the trails I conquer in the next couple of months. Happy hiking, all!

Also, be sure to follow me on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram for daily posts on hiking tips and other content!

#mkt400uwl #hiking bucketlist nationalparks nature outside adventure

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malgal7777 · 4 years ago

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Hiking with Tracy 2021: Weeks 4 and 5. The block and bounce back.

A new first everyone. WRITER’S BLOCK. I am two weeks behind because I could not find the right words to say. I just stared at the screen with nothing coming to mind. Blank stares. Crickets chirping. Where do I start? That pesky question again. Perhaps if I talk about what ails me, I can push through. Complaining! Now, THAT’S the ticket! You can always find something to complain about, right? Well, writer’s block ailed me. It’s real and added to the will to give up. I told a lot of people about this blog. I don’t think they’re reading it, but maybe they will?? I can’t give up now...can I?

After a sluggish third week defined by minor depression and the will to give up, Weeks 4 and 5 can be described as the “the bounce back”. I was able to brush off those negative thoughts from that red devil that sits on your shoulder and whispers in your ear: You’ll never do it. Give up loser!

I flung that sucker to the ground.

But on its heels came another realization. I’m almost 50. In July I will hit that top of the hill milestone. My knees are the ones reminding me. They’re not hurting, they ache. That red devil I flung climbed right back on and clung to my knees. But fear not, I did not get discouraged! I listened. When your body talks, time to listen carefully. My knees were saying, they’re proud of me and they like the direction I’m going. BUT, you are older, you are overweight and perhaps you had too much, too fast and you’re overplaying your part. Thanks Jerry. So I’m pulling back on the running and hikes during the week. I’m not getting upset if I don’t make my 10,000 steps everyday. I’m easing into the weekend, where I will continue to take longer, more strenuous hikes. AND because it is 2021 there is modern technology, which means I have help. I purchased a set of compression knee braces! Yup, that’s exciting news these days. Keeps these kneecaps in place without being too uncomfortable. Another piece of equipment I’m finally using are my hiking sticks. Compliments of my bestest friend Laura. She purchased these sticks for me last year for my birthday because she knows I enjoy hiking. Seemed like a great gift. Except I have been hesitant to use them. Bob & Charlotte are mercilessly making fun of me for even thinking of using them. I guess I look “elderly”. My knees politely remind me that I am elderly. In nature they are a god send. It’s winter in Northern California, which means lots of rain and slippery mud on the trails. These sticks come in handy for sure.

Week 4, I headed back down to Lake Chabot in Castro Valley. A beautiful overcast day spent with my daughter Charlotte and our volleyball family, Odessa and her daughter Veronica. Odessa has joined Noom with me and Char & V are about to start volleyball again now that the shutdown has opened slightly. What better way to get everyone in shape by taking them on a 9 mile hike? After 4.5 miles the realization of 9 miles started to hit the ladies. Luckily at this point we might as well continue on, since it’s the same distance! My aggressive hiking scheme had snagged more victims. But these ladies didn’t bat an eye. The girls kept up and Odessa is a brisk walker; I found myself trying to catch up to her! We also had an incredible discovery. A deceased bobcat on the side of the trail. Sorry, didn’t take a photo of that one. It was starting to decompose. But it was big! Not mountain lion big, but medium size dog big. Pretty cool. It validated Odessa bringing a kitchen knife for our safety (that’s another story).

That was Saturday. On Sunday, I did another “reconnaissance” mission. I met Sarah at Inspiration Point/Tilden Park. It’s one of my April hikes. You enter from the east, through the town of Orinda. Great views of Mt. Diablo to the east and the rest of the bay to the west. It stretches from Berkeley, Tilden Regional Park to Richmond, Wildcat Canyon Regional Park. Today, it was packed. People are definitely spending their time outside. Cyclists making their way up the hill, clogging traffic. Parking lot filled to the max. Crazy thing is both Sarah & I found parking spots right away. It was a gorgeous day. I’m going to thoroughly enjoy this hike come April. Sarah and I went a mile in and then turned around. We found a great bench with a view of the San Francisco Bay and the Golden Gate Bridge. Breathtaking. It was beyond lovely and we were able to catch up. Since the pandemic started, being around other humans is far and few between. We were privy to a Cooper’s Hawk calling to its mate and the mate popping out of nowhere. I know it was a Cooper’s Hawk because I am now happily birdie nerdy with my local bird smartphone app. I was able to remember a few details that Sarah & I noticed about the feather coloring under their wings. I had to go through a few hawk species but as soon as the app played the call, I knew what it was. A Cooper’s Hawk has a very distinct call. Get yourself the smartphone app Merlin Bird ID. Great stuff.

Since we only did two miles Sunday morning, I wanted to get in some more hiking time. Because as Bob says “I’m in some weird aggressive extreme hiking stage”. Why fight it? Let’s see where this takes me. I drove up to Skyline Blvd, which is right up the hill from the house. Parking at Redwood Regional Park and that stretch of Skyline Blvd has a CRAZY, CRAZY, CRAZY amount of people. I’m not sure I would want to live across the street from that parking lot. I couldn’t get out of there fast enough. I continued to head south on Skyline when I came to another (back) entrance to the park. It’s identifiable by the cool red single family home that resembles a farm house. Whoever lives there, you lucky bastard. It’s precious.

Abby joined me and we headed down towards the creek below the canopy of the giant redwoods. First thing to do when you’re among those giants is to breathe. The Bay Area just experienced a strong wind storm during the past week. It was as if a tornado had torn through the trees. The debris covering the trail was immense. Too many downed trees to count. Stunning. Walking among these trees is a peaceful affair, I cannot imagine it being terrifying enough to create such damage. Majestic with vibrant colors from the recent rains, they’re so alive. I never wear headphones. I want to hear them lightly sway back and forth. I ended up adding another 4 miles up a steep incline to my day. I was back and on the right track.

Saturday week 5 started among a man made giant. I was going to walk the Bay Bridge to Yerba Buena Island bike/hike trail. It’s 3 miles up and 2.9 miles back and a really cool perspective. Usually you’re not able to stop at this location in the bay, you’re driving 60 mph. It’s a great view but very loud. Skyline mom Carole joined me today. She had never walked it before. Highly recommend. But be prepared to wear headphones or listen very intently to your walking partner. The view makes up for any difficulty hearing. The way to Yerba Buena Island is a gradual incline. Not too bad while walking. Riding a bike might prove to be challenging. And once you make it up to the Island, there’s a nice resting spot to take in the view facing the East Bay Hills. They’re still building the path that is to lead around the Island and down to Treasure Island. THAT will be a super cool hike once it’s all said and done. There’s also the Coast Guard headquarters at the base of the bridge tunnel. Great basketball court.

I may keep my weekend hikes mellow next week. Give those knees a break. Happy Chinese New Year! Happy Mardi Gras!

Let’s shake 2020 off us and start anew. Work hard to refresh our souls. Till next week and I'll leave you with a bit of wisdom I read on my tea bag this morning “Gratitude is not about what is received; it’s about how you receive what is there.” I appreciate all of you and being able to do this.

#hikingwithtracy2021

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lukeysgirl · 7 years ago

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The Note Tree ❋ L.H. Pt.1

Part O N E

Summary: A cherry blossom tree, residing at the farthest part of the schools courtyard. Nobody dwelled there, and you didn’t care much for it. Until you kept hearing one song played over and over, with lyrics changed to touch at your curiosity. They knew you were listening, and one day you gave in and made your way to the pink tree. Waiting for you, a series of notes tied to a single strand of string.

Word Count: 3.5k (on the dot)

AN: Hi guys, I’m alive and back! So here’s a new series (meaning requests are closed). This one is an original idea of mine, so this should be exciting. Anyhow, the regular rule stands at 100 notes for next parts. But my updates will be coming more slowly as I genuinely wanna develop this story so please be patient and I hope you enjoy. Lemme know if ya’ll enjoy, how it feels n what not.

Parts: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty.

I M A G I N E

Monday

“…So class, what could be a potential motif that is continuously being brought up in…” Tuning out…. Tuning out… Tuning out…

Click! Tuning out complete.

Sun poured itself into the left side of the classroom, it’s warmth licking all the students by the window (one being yourself). The professor with the typical monotonous voice pondered out loud to the minds who couldn’t shed a single drop of care. The fern chalkboard was ornate with several literature terms, part of an assignment that you didn’t bother to know just yet. Standard wooden desks with cheap metallic chairs were forced in rows, pure uncertainty in the germ quantity or the origin of zombie drawings scratched into the desks.

On your desk resided your hands, clammy and still. Below your hands was a black, spiral notebook. To your right sat a mechanical pencil, red with size 0.5 lead. Next to that was a Bic pen you found in another classroom. Surely, it wasn’t yours, but you were too tempted to leave it alone.

There it is again, you thought. Guitar boy is back. Every day in your English Literature class, there was this mysterious singer who sung nearby. He was never in sight from the classroom, impossible to find him even when you changed angles. As much as you wished to ignore it, it was impossible.

After all, this voice picked on you every time.

The same tune would be played, using the same chords every single week day. He has yet to make a mistake. It was an average 4-chord beat, who could mess that up? The voice type was a baritenor, the intriguing combination of tenor and baritone. He always sniffles right before beginning his tune.

“Go to the pink tree,

eat before three.

Take my notes before the wind,

don’t let my words go unpinned.

Hung by a single thread,

don’t let my words go unread,

Bic Pen Taker”

And there he goes. The guitar playing slowly fades away, all pairs of eyes still diverted to the front of the classroom. They had known this routine, too, and no longer thought anything of it. Even the teacher, Mr. Murphy, self-concluded that this was some sort of brief music session. It barely lasted a minute, and completely dissolved right after the tune.

You paid no mind to it as well, refusing to interrupt your course of life. But, surely, your best friends wouldn’t dare let it leave your life.

“‘Bic Pen Taker?’“ Savannah exclaimed, slamming her petite hand down onto the circular lunch table. She was a lovely thing when her mouth was shut. Perfect blonde locks danced down to the middle of her spine, loose curls at the end. She was very pale, very slim, and extremely preppy when it came to her clothing. Usually skirts and dresses with 3-inch heels to make her feel like an adult. “Y/N, you cannot ignore this!”

“It really is big to pretend like it’s nothing,” Odessa, poking at the rim of her forest-green glasses. She was the loveliest shade of hot chocolate, her skin smooth and noticeable. Curvy one, she is, with braids that went down to her bum. Surely, your eyes diverted down to her curves, but what can you do? You concluded yourself to be a ‘bi-curious fuck’ when you first saw Halsey. Anyway, Odessa, or Des, was shorter than the rest of the group, but that just made her more endearing.

“‘Eat before three?’ What’s that supposed to mean?” Alexis began, holding up a pink post-it note up to her face. Probably the cutest brunette, Lexi had freckles decorated all over her nose and cheeks. You were always tempted to take a Sharpie and create constellations. With a button nose and a kind smile, Alexis was definitely someone who stole peoples’ focus every time.

“Don’t waste your time attempting to decipher it,” you groaned, resting your head in your arms as you looked down at the grey lunch table below you. It was cool, giving you a pleasant sensation. It was very in contrast from the muggy feeling provided by the crowded lunch room. “It’s a stupid song.”

“It’s not stupid!” Savannah hissed, holding up her own post-it with the lyrics. “This is a secret admirer, Y/N! Straight-out-the-movies secret admirer!”

“And I give a shit because?” You murmured, looking distantly at the entrance door where students pooled inside the room. Odessa shoved you playfully, sticking the note on the table before resting her elbows on the table. She hangs her head upon her fists, her cheeks pooling up her face as she studied the note.

“Because he won’t stop pestering you indirectly until you do what he asks,” Alexis pipes. Shit. Good point. “It’ll never end if you keep putting it off.”

“You’re right,” you respond calmly, closing your eyes to allow your weary body to refuel. Exhaustion always taunted you at school, but once you were home, some odd energy gets released and you’re wide awake until 2 in the morning. “Still don’t care enough.”

“This has been going on since the beginning of the year, and it’s only been 2 months, Y/N,” Alexis points out, having you still shrug off her good points.

“If we made sense of the song, you’d surely care then, wouldn’t you?” Odessa mumbled, turning over to you. You opened your eyes once more, slivers of your eyes being revealed to your friend group. They all stared with some odd frustration that you couldn’t really comprehend.

“Ya’ll are acting like this song is complex,” you mumbled, having them stare back at their notes worth of the lyrics. You loved these girls dearly, but their brilliance put together and averaged out would be ‘meh.’

“So what does it mean?” Savannah hummed, tossing her post-it over to you. It hovered and indirectly glided to you, one of its corners hitting your elbow. Groggily, you forced yourself to sit up. You used one hand to weave your fingers into your hair to fix it up a bit. “The only part we got to is the ‘pink tree,’ which is that cherry tree in the courtyard.”

“Oh wow, I’m so proud,” you sarcastically spewed, having Savannah roll her eyes as you picked up the thin sheet of paper. You held the paper, one hand holding it between your middle, index, and thumb as the other tapped at one of the pointy corners. “Yes, the ‘pink tree’ in this case would be the cherry tree that nobody gives a shit about.”

“Why don’t people go there again?” Odessa asked, genuine wander sliding off her tongue.

“Because it’s far as fuck,” Alexis breathed as the girls resumed to stare at you. The pairs of blue, brown, and green eyes frightened you as you kept yours diverted to the paper.

“‘Eat before three...’ that’s probably another way of saying go there after lunch or before we get out of class,” you said with a shrug. It was your best guess, honestly. That line was just a bit tricky. “‘Take my notes before the wind, don’t let my words go unpinned.’“

“So you do care!” Savannah exclaimed, slamming her hands upon the table once more. Odessa’s milk carton jumped a bit as Alexis’ leaning position had been ruined by the sudden vibration. “You know the tune!”

“That’s because it’s sung literally every day,” you groaned. “It was just like the ‘Call Me Maybe’ apocalypse where nobody could shut up about it.” Odessa snorted from your remark as you resumed with your analysis. “Anyways, that means that this kid would want me to go and read those notes and let them not be wasted.”

“Cuuute,” Alexis moaned, having you shrug in complete oblivion to her definition of ‘cute.’

Sigh. “And then it’s ‘hung by a single thread,’ so string probably tied around a branch,” you said monotonously. “And again, he doesn’t want his words to be wasted so he wants me to read them. And then the ‘Bic Pen Taker,’ so obviously he knows that pen wasn’t mine.”

“So he’s got his eye on ya,” Alexis teased, her smirk trying to indicate some sort of romantic reference.

“More like he’s stalking me,” you groaned, tossing the paper back to Savannah as you rest your head once more into your arms. “No offense, but I don’t really like stalkers.”

“He’s not stalking you,” Savannah tries to mellow the situation, but that definitely won’t do. Guitar dude is definitely stalking if he watched you while you were alone in a classroom stealing a pen. Creepy if you asked anybody. “He’s just interested but doesn’t know how to approach?”

“Does that make him shy or what?” You mumbled, extremely bored with the conversation.

“That makes you aloof,” Odessa brings up, having you frown at the chocolate girl beside you.

“I’m not unfriendly,” you began with a touch of attitude. “I just don’t dedicate enough energy to make any more friends than I have to. If I don’t have to do it, I won’t.”

“You’re colder than Antarctica, Y/N,” Alexis pouts, having you roll your eyes as you slowly closed them. You enjoyed napping, it was one of your favorite pastimes. It was overall easier, and required approximately no energy. But, as much as you wanted to sink into the bliss that is slumber, you were still in school with others far more... bombastic than yourself.

“Oh shit, they’ve got pizza today!” Exclaimed the typically loud and annoying Michael Clifford. Eyebrow pierced, dyed blue hair, and immensely pale Michael had broken you from your attempts of a nap. You open your eyes in annoyance, seeing as the regular quad entered the cafeteria.

Michael Clifford, the energy of the group. Calum Hood, Mr. I’m So Suave Because I Serenade Girls With My Guitar. And then Ashton Irwin, probably the friendliest person in heart and looks. Although they weren’t fawned over by all the girls like in the movies, they definitely weren’t ignored. Being the only legit band of the school, they were fairly known to get booked into the popular peoples’ parties and become the lives of the party. But it seems like they lacked something today.

“Ash!” Alexis called the boys over, having you sink your head deeper into your arms until your nose touched the cold table. Fuck obligated interaction. It’s not that you hate people or anything. You just don’t want to spend so much energy on them. Odessa rubbed your back as you groaned quietly.

“Hey Alex,” Ashton came, greeting her with his usual kind voice and lovely eyes. You tilted your head slightly to see, seeing one simple pleasure that was Ashton’s dimples when he smiled. “Savannah, Des. Hey, Y/N.” Of course he says your name in a separate sentence.

“Hey boys,” Savannah said, seeing as she smiled when Michael came over. It was rather strange with these 6. It was immensely obvious that Lex liked Ash, Sav liked Mike, and Des liked Cal. And vice versa, of course. But it’s the usual yucky high school love story where they all have to face complications before their happy ever after. Also, you hated the last member of the boys’ group.

He was energy consuming, for sure.

“Ladies,” Calum cooed, revealing a cheeky smile as Des leaned her cheek against her fist to ogle the Maori boy before her. You looked away, snapping your neck to face the other way to not see this gross love connections these 6 were having. You looked distantly through the cloudy windows, seeing the other students outside at the courtyard where more tables resided. You subconscious tried to find the cherry tree, but it was immensely far and there were too many oak trees in the way.

“When do you wanna work on our English project, Lex?” Ashton asked, having those two discuss about whatever the hell project they’re doing. You could hear the other four discuss about some performance they’re having at some venue that you couldn’t even care less about. Along with their conversation, several others came into play as extremely loud background sound.

“Hey, Y/N!” Michael called your name, having you sigh before sitting up and turning back to the rest of the group. All pairs of eyes were now on you, having you blink twice before staring up at the pale boy. “What’re you doing here?”

“What do you mean?” You asked, pure confusion erupting in your mind. “I’m in school, trying to enjoy my lunch break.” Calum was quick to go and give Michael a slap behind his head, having him rub it while glaring at Calum.

“He’s being stupid, as usual,” Calum suggested, having you barely smirk as Michael hissed at the Maori boy. “He just means that we always see you asleep or being lazy when you’re in school, so it’s odd to see you here.”

“It’s not that I’m lazy,” you began with a shrug. You rubbed under your eye, cautious not to ruin the light makeup on your eyelids. “I just conserve my energy is all. Speaking of which, where’s the other one?”

“Oh, you mean Luke?” Ashton asked, having you nod in confirmation. The other girls looked at him as well, just as curious about the missing blonde. “Lunch detention.”

“What did cool boy Luke Hemmings do this time?” Savannah giggled, mocking the position that boy somehow held. But, of course he held the cool boy title. Blonde, blue eyes, devilishly handsome and lead singer of his band. Can we get any more cliche than this?

“He drew a dick on the chalkboard over there for Ms. Lee’s class,” Calum said quickly, having you analyze his face as he spoke. Such a quick response. “Since it’s anatomy anyways, he claimed it’s for ‘educational purposes.’”

“I see.” The conversation derailed quickly to the boy’s performance coming up this weekend.

“Here’s the invites,” Michael began, smiling contently as he handed out the small flyers. There was a coffee stain in the right hand corner of each, having you roll your eyes at the boy. “All the info you might ask for is on there, trust me.” Savannah giggled, the two locking eyes quickly.

“Oi, what are those notes you got there?” Calum began, pointing at the girls holding the lyrics in their spare hands. They were quick to press it against their chests with their faces losing it’s calm color.

“Nothing,” you spoke for all 3, having the boys look strangely at all of you before headed off for their food. As they did, a few girls walked up to them and joined their stroll over for the pizza Michael long desires. Once they were no long in sight, the girls sighed in relief and put the notes back down.

“That... was close,” Savannah said calmly.

“Why the hell are you hiding them?” You asked all the girls. “Wouldn’t you think that they could help us decipher it? Being musicians and shit.”

“Nah, we’re doing this ourselves,” Des began with a wide smile. “I want us to solve it. I’m trying to be an accomplished bitch, you know.”

“Mm, I see,” you hummed before residing your head in your arms again. “Still not gonna go.”

“Then I’ll go!” Des offered. “I have a free period after lunch so I can definitely check it out and share the note with ya’ll.” The other girls nodded in excitement, having you shrug simply at her choice. The girls had a few more discussions with you attentively listening, wasting the minutes before lunch had sadly reached an end.

“...Okay class, take your seats, please.” Ms. Lee’s voice struggled over the sound of the students shuffling and finding their seats. You were always the first one in the room, already seated with your required materials out. You picked at your nails, enjoying the brief moment of being alone at your seat before the annoyance came.

“I’m here, Ms. Lee!” And there is the nuisance.

Luke Hemmings announced his arrival, stirring the class with laughter as he grinned giddily at your teacher. She kept her face stern, amused by his stupidity. He was leaning against the door frame, one arm straight up and holding the frame with the other resting on his hip. He stood with one leg, the other bent slightly in front of it. The usual skinny black jeans, a Nirvana shirt, and completely black converse, Luke looked of a punkrock try hard.

“I see,” Ms. Lee murmured, agitation evident on her face as Luke strutted over to the seat beside yours. You clapped your hands together, shutting your eyes to pray briefly as the blonde boy adjusted himself on the wooden stool. You then began to wonder why the teacher hadn’t used his lunch detention as leverage for a clever remark.

“Hey, Y/N,” Luke greeted, having you look over to see both hands weaved and under his chin as he stared at you. As annoyed as you got from seeing his face, you couldn’t help but adore his eyes. They were this ocean color, the one where the sky is perfectly blue and the sun was licking the beach.

“Luke.” You turned away, no longer bothering to stare as you prepared for the lecture that proceeded. Luke always sighed in disappointment, always having you glance to see his eyes dim. You didn’t understand why, seeing as you two hardly knew each other and you had incredible doubt that Luke actually gave a shit about you.

After the lecture, Ms. Lee had begun to pass out the tests. The assignment was already up and ready, having you the only student to jot suffice notes and begin a sketch of what you were to do. As you doodled, you notice Ms. Lee place Luke’s graded test. He grabbed it, holding it up as he smirked.

“Yikes,” he uttered, having you shake your head at how careless he was. A 62 percent. That’s one of many reasons that you found Luke so infuriating. He didn’t care a single cent about his grades, taking them as a joke almost all the time. “Looky!” He turned around and showed it to the students behind you two, having them laugh with him as he passed it around.

“You’re such a dope, Luke!” One of his friends said with a chuckle, having Luke laugh even more. Others laughed at him, fueling his idiotic antics and ways. Even though you didn’t care at all for Luke, you suddenly found yourself annoyed at his carelessness.

“Luke, cut it out,” you said simply, having his group of friends silence themselves as he turned over to you. You felt his eyes, refusing to lock yours with them as you continued your sketch. “You need this class-- quit being such a dolt.”

“Woah,” Luke said with awe, having goosebumps rise on your arms from his breathless word. You didn’t know what to think, with the way his clean, hoarse voice uttered the word in pure disbelief. “I didn’t think you’d care about it, Y/N, let alone anything I do.”

“Correction: I don’t care,” you pointed, getting over your momentary mental ogle from his voice. “I just don’t want you expressing your stupidity around me.” Luke blinked, having you indirectly stare as he leaned closer to you. You leaned away, somewhat revolted by his antics. “What?”

“I have an idea,” Luke began, having you already try to tune him out. “How about the 3.8-GPA student tutor me about anatomy?”

“No,” you immediately shot him down.

“C’mon now!” Luke kept trying, leaning closer to you as you found yourself flustered from his sudden closeness. “We can get real in-depth about the body... talking intimately about my anatomy and--”

Suddenly, the dismissal bell rang.

“In your damn dreams, Hemmings,” you announced, slamming your notebook close as you poured your items into your backpack and fled the room. Luke was wise not to call you back or chase you, having relief wash over you as you exit the school.

You managed to catch up with Savannah and Alexis, listening to their heavy projects and paper homework. And you agreed: homework is a serious no-no. But how else could you retain your intelligence? It was the only thing you actually put energy into anyways.

“Sav, Alex, Y/N!” Suddenly, Des’s voice called to all of you, having you halt and turn around to see the girl hurry to you guys. Cliques all around walked past as Des stopped running and gave herself a moment to breathe. “Goddamn... ya’ll walk damn fast, Jesus...” She panted, standing up straight with her chest heaving.

“You alright?” Alexis asked, concern painting all of your faces as you stared at the short girl. Des nodded, waving it off as she adjusted her bookbag. “What is it? Everything okay?”

“No...” She said breathlessly.

“Why? What’s wrong?” Savannah allowed pure concern to roll off her tongue as you three stared at Des’s surprised face. She then turned to you, having you blink a few times until you listened to the words that left her plump lips.

“I went to the tree,” Des said simply, weaving her fingers together, somewhat nervously. “But the notes weren’t there.”

aha please do lemme know whatcha think right here, thank you x

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evergreenseniorliving · 6 years ago

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How Should You Go About Getting Started with Bird Watching?

As a beginning birdwatcher, the first thing you might want to consider is to start by finding out more about the birds in your local ecosystem and where you can find them. Your best approach is that of either reading up online or looking up some specialty books that can tell you all about the birds that you might be able to spot in and around your home town.

Avoid investing too much in equipment and clothes. Even if you are really excited right now, there’s no guarantee that bird watching is something you’ll want to do long term. That being said, make sure you give it a chance, and you’ll definitely not be disappointed with your experience.

It’s important to have at least some basic equipment such as a small camera and a small telescope or a pair of good quality binoculars. As a beginner, if you don’t yet know all the good spots where you could find birds, you can get another little piece of equipment to make them come to you: a bird feeder.

Birding can be quite an inexpensive and also a very intellectually enjoyable activity, especially if you are a resident at one of the centers for senior living near me in Odessa. If you love birds, you’ll quickly find yourself getting absorbed by their magic, and you won’t regret even one second of sitting outside waiting for hours for that one bird species that you haven’t been able to see yet.

Article Source on: How Should You Go About Getting Started with Bird Watching?

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archivesdiveronarpg · 8 years ago

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Congratulations, EMILY! You’ve been accepted for the role of GONERIL. Admin Bree: This application was everything I could’ve hoped for and so much more. I’ve been waiting for someone who truly understood Grace, as nuanced and complex as she is, and Emily, you went above and beyond. Every part of your application, from the “what drew you to this character” section to your very last headcanon, screamed Grace Daly in all her blood-stained glory, and I loved every single word of it. You know her even better than I do, and for that reason, I’m so excited to place her in your hands. God bless Verona; long live the Queen. Please read over the checklist and send in your blog within 24 hours.

WELCOME TO THE MOB.

Out of Character

Alias | Emily

Age | 20

Preferred Pronouns | She/her

Activity Level | I’ve literally wanted a second character for months now – but I forced myself to wait until I had enough time to juggle both Odessa and someone else before applying. I feel as if I’ve gotten into a good groove and have enough time now! I’ll actually be home for the whole of April and although I have essays to do and exams to prep for, I’ll still be on to roleplay quite a bit! I love this roleplay, so much, so I’ll be on quite a lot – especially with the amount of muse I have! I’d say out of ten, maybe a 6/7?

Timezone | GMT

Current/Past RP Accounts | Well, here’s Odessa. And here and here are two more that I think best demonstrate my writing.

In Character

Character | Grace Valeria Daly:

GRACE: In English the meaning of the name Grace is: From the word ‘grace’, derived from the Latin 'gratia’, meaning God’s favor. Grace wasn’t named until her 45th day on this earth, more than six weeks after she was delivered. Truth be told, her parent’s hadn’t dared named her until then – terrified that to do so would be to curse her. In the beginning, the doctors had advised them to – but only so they had a name to put on the birth and death certificates they would file simultaneously. Louis and his wife had refused – believing in their daughter. As it turned out, they were right to. Grace wasn’t done with life yet, fighting through the worst odds. At 45 days, she was taken off the ventilator, her little lungs breathing all by themselves. That was when they decided to name her, drawing inspiration from the God they saw as responsible for their child’s continuing life. That would, as it turned out, be in a direct paradox to everything Grace has ever represented, for she has always been a woman who sought to ascend higher than God – and who drew inspiration from the most infamous angel of all, Lucifer. Their tricks and deeds have always been more alluring than the holy ones in God’s possession. Pay heed Morningstar, for your protégée has come to walk the earth. Truth be told, Grace cares little for her name. It makes her sound so vanilla, so plainly docile. She isn’t any of those things – and brash and vulgar as she is, she’s never cared to use it as some sort of cover to lure people into a false deception of kindness. Let all the niceties be reserved for Catherine.

VALERIA: In Italian, the name Valeria means - strength, valour. Like her first name, Grace’s parents drew inspiration for her middle name from the situation she was born into. Recognising that their daughter was a scrappy fighter, a survivor above all else, they wanted her name to resonate strength and for the world to see exactly who she was. And whilst it’s correct to assert that Grace has always been a strong woman, she’s not strong in the way they might have wanted to imagine her as, a sort of phoenix figure. No, she’s strong like a hurricane is, just before it destroys your home. She’s strong in the way that darkness is as it creeps in each night. She’s strong in the very worst way. That makes the second definition of her surname, valour, such an ironic one. It’s impossible for her to be courageous in the face of danger because she is that danger. She cannot be brave as she rides into battle – because she’s never intended on being in the middle of a war, where it’s possible to get hurt. No, she’s the sort to swoop in at the end – and claim the victory as her own. Besides, she’d always be on the winning side. To represent valour is to represent the light. And if there’s one thing all parties, her parents excepted, can agree upon – it’s that it just isn’t her.

DALY: The Daly’s are infamous throughout Verona. Theirs is an opulent family, known for its trio of daughters – each as beautiful as the one that came before. Striking elegance, they are known for their mansion that sits upon the town, both apart and away from it all. Bold and brash, every atom of it is inscribed with grandeur, no expense spared. And that’s just the outside. Should you be invited in, there’s no limit to material goods – gifts rained down upon the three daughters, given anything their mind can think of. Whereas Catherine always sought to hold herself to higher standards than that, Grace never had a problem indulging in her birth rights, seeing it as something being owed to her. Why on earth shouldn’t she take all she could? Synonymous with greed, Grace quickly followed in the footsteps of her father – carving out a reputation to rival (and indeed, she would argue it did, his). And yet, despite the perks and lifestyle her surname has offered her, she cares little for it other than as a means through which to assert herself. Whilst her parents do hold a place in her heart, it’s a rather limited one, soured by the attention they gave her sisters (really, she once asked, why did I need sisters at all?). As for her siblings, well, she cares so little for them that they rarely cross her mind. The idea of a surname signally family is…well…laughable. By the turn of the century, she will be the only Daly they remember. And really, isn’t that all it’s worth?

What drew you to this character? |

Okay so as I outlined above, I’ve been wanting to pick up a second character for some time now – and just waiting until the right one/time came to do it! The moment Grace’s teaser came out…boy was I sold. Like…I don’t think you could have written a character I loved more? Everything about her was so…it’s everything I end up being drawn to in a character tbh. Like, dark powerful women are my aesthetic. I’ve played way too many of them over the course of my time roleplaying – and I don’t think I’ll be giving up any time soon, if this application is anything to go by. Anyway, when the bio came out…I was just sold. I immediately imagined her voice in my head and really wanted to start an application right away – because I was so sure she would be snapped up immediately. However, I didn’t have the time then – and I figured that it wouldn’t exactly be fair for me to take up someone if I didn’t have the time to dedicate to her. Luckily, she’s still open (!!!!!!!!!!!) and thus, I’m filling this out. As for what specifically drew me into Grace, I would say there are two or three distinct aspects, which I’ll expand upon below.

PERSONALITY & STORYLINE: As I mentioned above, I’m so game for dark powerful women – and Grace has that down to a t. She’s a creature stolen from the shadows, an empress in the making – even if no one else around her sees it quite yet. Corrupted by ambition, she’s rotten down to the core – and in truth, she always has been. She’s quite evil – and I love it. Ruined by the attention her parents gave her – and their point blank refusal to discipline or see anything amiss in their daughter – something ugly took its place, wearing the mask of a beautiful woman. Time has made her lethal, a cruel and dangerous woman, utterly selfish and consumed by her own wants and needs – no time for anyone else. Her heart is black – and there’s no room in it for anyone who isn’t Grace Daly. And that probably makes her one of the most dangerous players on the board. She’ll stop at nothing. Her loyalty is only to herself – willing to sell and betray anyone at a moment’s notice. But, what makes her truly dangerous, is that she has such a core belief in herself. She’s put her mind to her pursuit of power – and doesn’t think there’s anything that can stand in her way. That means she won’t stop or doubt herself – ever. I truly wouldn’t want to go up against that. Someone who doesn’t want to just go down in history, but make it revolve around her and change its course entirely. Put simply, Grace fulfils the archetype of the Woman King. I have such a weakness for them – oh my god, so really, I’m just so immensely drawn to her and adore her – faults and all – already. I’d love to be able to explore her – and I’ve had fun doing so already, even within the space of this application.

THE MOBS: Like, I won’t lie, I adore the spades. They’re very much active within the plot and such a big driver of this next chapter of the roleplay and so I’d love to be a part of that. There’s so much room for richness within them, so much potential to their dynamics that’s practically gone unexplored. As I stated within the plot section, that’s definitely something I want to delve into – and I gave you a few examples of what I’d like to do/see there. I think this is definitely complicated by the fact that Grace stabbed the Caps in the back for them – and so naturally, the dynamics between those two parties are really interesting to explore – because it’ll be interesting to see if there’s animosity on their part – and how she might respond to that. Plus…she wants to see their destruction, so there’s that (and it shows how heartless she truly is). Basically, Grace is such an integral player within the mobs, which makes it so tempting to apply for her. Just in terms of what you can do with her, there’s so much, making her truly versatile.

RELATIONSHIPS: Finally, I’m a sucker for all of her dynamics – both the ones listed in her biography and those which have yet to be forged. Primarily, there’s the one between her and her sisters. Yet, despite being on different sides of the war and sharing an upbringing, there’s no pain, no angst. Grace left her sisters for years without so much as a warning, betraying their side with little thought as to how it might impact them. She never would think about it – caring so very little. That makes it incredibly interesting to explore, because the relationship becomes incredibly nuanced and multidimensional, which each sister having their unique perspective. Other than that, the one between Vivianne and Grace is incredibly compelling. In my head, I like to imagine that Vivianne was the one stopping Grace from ascending – because she occupied the position Grace would have wanted, with little sign of giving it up. There was simply no room for Grace up at the top – and in a sense, Vivianne choked her. Therefore, the hatred between them (well, hatred on Vivianne’s behalf, the spark of amusement on Grace’s) becomes all the more compelling. I like to imagine that Grace winds her up for fun, wants to be the one to stick the dagger in her back – want to see Vivianne’s face when Grace finally triumphs and beats her, for good. It’s almost a game for Grace – one she might pick up when she’s bored – and one which serves to further her ambitions, which is really what Grace is at her core. And then, finally, there’s the dynamic between Grace and Boris. I really like what you’ve done with these two – because in a sense, they come from the same place. But there’s always been a distinction between them – and with Grace’s superiority to him comes her hatred. She’ll do anything to undermine him and his authority, anything to steal what she sees as belonging to her. What unfolds between them, no matter what happens, will be to die for, I know.

I hope this section made sense? I really wanted to convey why exactly I love Grace so much – and the different aspects of her, as well as her potential, that make her so compelling for me.

What is a future plot idea you have in mind for the character? |

THEY WANNA MAKE ME THEIR QUEEN: This is just a fancy name for Grace’s ambitions. At the core of her is this desire to rule – to see the chess pieces fall and be the only one left at the table, to swoop in when people least expect it. Ambition is such an ugly thing – but she makes it look so beautiful. There isn’t anything she wouldn’t do to further her agenda – and I’d love to explore exactly how far she’s willing to go to make it happen. Spoiler: the answer is very far, possibly beyond the bounds of humanity itself. For not a very patient person, she’s known remarkable restraint here, first switching to the Spades and letting her cause fester for a few years. But now she’s back in Verona, the place where she made herself, among the mobs she once claimed to be loyal and opposed to, something might just spark inside of her, an urgent need she can no longer swallow. Having perfected both brute force and stealthy plots, it’ll be interesting to watch how Grace interacts with the Montagues and Capulets. Essentially, they need to be removed (and by they, she means that docile little slip of a girl Julianna and the new boy-king Roman) in order for her to advance her plans. Right now, she’s willing to work with the Spades to make that happen – and I definitely think she’ll be the biggest advocate of action within them. She’s remained in the shadows for too long – it’s time to embrace the burn of the night. They can outsmart them. They can beat them. So let’s get on with the game. Like a cockroach, when they bring about the end of the world, she’ll be one of the only ones left standing. I do think, that eventually, there will come a time when she ponders severing ties with them, where she can go no further. Her endgame is her ruling over the underworld of Verona – but there’s more than one path to get there. There’s no rule in the playbook that says she necessarily has to end up betraying Faron (but it’s not like she wouldn’t) but it seems likely that’s the case. But these are all details that can be fleshed out later!

BLOOD IS THICKER THAN?: If Grace were to finish that sentence, she’d purse her lips and state that it isn’t. Her family means nothing to her. Alright, she’s better than them – does that count as an opinion? She hardly sees them as family – and they’re more strangers to her than anything else. Even in the years away, she hasn’t kept up with them, caring so little to do so. I’m dying to see her interactions with them – which are bound to unfold in different ways. Catherine is still gentle enough to love Grace – even when the elder couldn’t care less. Grace doesn’t even pity her youngest sister, she isn’t even disgusted – she just doesn’t care. Catherine is no match for her in the game they both play – and she won’t hesitate to roll over her sister to get what she wants. Honestly, she’s more inclined to ignore her than anything else. With Regina is where it really gets interesting. Whilst the world basically shared the same opinion on Catherine, people have always seen something in Regina – clearly, since they now both technically hold the same position in their respective mobs. Despite that, Grace has never seen the same, always happy to write off her little sister as somewhat useless, like a tempered, mute and lesser version of herself. But I do get the feeling there’s some underlying jealousy there? Regina has equalled her in far less time and risen far faster than her. With Regina, it’s almost like an unspoken (she would never ever admit that her sister could rival her) competition between them. It would probably be foolish of Grace to underestimate Regina – but that’s what she’ll do anyway. Grace isn’t in a hurry to see her sisters by any means – and she’s not exactly going to approach them, engage with them or making any motions into bridging a divide. It suits her perfectly. And honestly, this sort of dynamic is the kind I ache for.

THE ACE OF SPADES: This is just my (not so) witty name for the spades – Grace’s place inside of them and the dynamics between them all, which I’m so weak for. As a concept, the spades don’t really make sense – they’re all drawn from different walks of life, places and experiences. But despite that, they’re lethal – and they click. I’d love to explore Grace’s place inside of that. Who does she despise? Who does she respect (if anyone)? Does she question orders handed down to her or obey? Does she seek to undermine the authority of anyone who could potentially rise up above her? Does she have any friends? These are all questions to be answered. I think, central to this discussion, are the dynamics between Grace and Faron and Grace and Boris respectively. I think with Grace and Faron, what’s really interesting is that she considers himself her equal, even though he’s technically her boss. But at the same time, she has to obey him – and her rise is limited by him. That makes for a really interesting question – when the time comes, will she step over him, or remain loyal? I’m inclined to think of the first. But before that, she has to step over someone else – Boris. She’s never despised someone quite as much as him. Part of it originates in an age-old feud – the rest of it in the fact that he’s her boss. She hates being told what to do – and especially by him, considering he isn’t worthy. A shadow of a man until he came here, he’s fallen, she never has. That makes her more qualified. But really, it’s her she’s angry at – that she wasn’t good enough to beat him in the first round. It’s a weakness – and the only mistake she’s ever made. But, sooner rather than later, Grace will figure out a way to engage in round two – perhaps challenge him for the under-boss position. And once she does, she’ll win.

PRIDE COMES BEFORE FALL: I don’t think any phrase sums Grace better up than this. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone with such an ego. She has such a high opinion of herself – and expects everyone else to follow suit, even if they have no direct reason to. Throughout, Grace is adamant that time will make them do so. Yet, having never seriously fallen, or failed, before – Grace expects everything to go her way, because it always has. I want to see what happens when that’s challenged, when she’s forced to meet someone who might be her match, or, even worse, what might happen if she makes a move and she loses. How would she deal with such consequential failure? How would it change who she is? Or the way she thinks about herself? I don’t think it would – because everything about her is too cemented in position for that ever to happen. But I do think that it’s important for this to happen, because it’ll force her into a position where she has to consider everything and in the process, it’ll make her better. She’ll fight harder, be stronger, all the more cruel for it. I’d want this to be a temporary setback and I’m not sure what form it would take yet, whether it would be as little as just losing a fight or having her put in her place by Boris or someone on the equivalent, but I do want this to happen. I think it’s important to place obstacles in your characters desires – and to see how they would react to that.

In Depth

What is your favorite place in Verona? |

Sentimentality – she had always sneered at it, in both terms of people and places. Such emotion was reserved wholly for her do-gooder little sister, or the whimsical love interest in a terrible movie. People like them saw Verona was a medieval slice of beauty, looked to the love stories written over its fabric, sighed at the history of it all. Grace’s eyes, sharpened, saw only a playground, a messy reality upon which her rule would one day be implemented upon. As she matured, she had ceased to see Verona as her home – and began to see it as an abstract, from a distance, perceiving it from the eye of a raven, flying high above. What can you offer me? That was the question forever etched upon her lips. “Once upon a time, I might have said the Cathedral.” There’s no bitterness to her tone. Unlike the other defectors (whom Grace holds herself above), she was not forced out. There is no wistful sigh when her eyes are trained towards its spires. That was her choice. Besides, she had outgrown it. She moved on up in the world. A quizzical eyebrow raised, she ponders her answer for a few more moments, it’s not worthy of any longer than that. She doesn’t mince her words. “The dark lady. I adore the name.” It’s like looking in a mirror. “The cliental can be a little…leery – but it’s nothing I can’t handle. Besides, it’s the only place that’s ours.” The Montagues could keep their puny little soup kitchen and the Capulets could have their little cafes – theirs was made from the darkness, weighted with sins. Fitting. “For the moment.”

What does your typical day look like?

“A little of this, a little of that.” She’s deliberately evasive, games dancing on her tongue. Her voice is velvet, it invites you in – daring you to guess what exactly she does. Warning: there’s danger to be found. How silly, she muses, warnings ruin everything. And they do have such a beautiful side-effect of separating the wheat from the chaff. In truth, her time is divided up equally. The first half is spent inclining her head and obeying the wishes of the one she calls boss – shaking up clients who refuse to fulfil their end of the bargain, galvanizing her (she does so like to refer to them as her own) soldiers, turning ordered streets into chaos. (There’s been less of that lately, what with their relocation to Verona and the changing dynamics of the game). And then, there’s the time she keeps to herself. Sometimes she goes off on a tangent, plays the games she used to play before joining the underworld – before she was all the more professional for it. She engages in blood and lust, all things sinful and wicked. A pressed secret between her lips, she rarely leaves a trace. I’m too good for that. Little about her can be considered mundane. She will never be the vixen at the bar, the preppy annoyance at the coffee shop or the artist who looks upon the city and paints. Her hobbies are rather more deadly. “A girl has to have her outlets. Or she’ll just go crazy.” Action streamlines her blood – it feeds her. She’s always been like that, filled with an infusible hungering that cannot be quenched. She’s found only one thing does the trick – power. “But I sense the normal is about to shift…and I for one cannot wait.”

What are your thoughts on the war between the Capulets and the Montagues?

A wolf can only smile when covered in the blood of its prey. Grace Daly can only smile at the demise of an enemy – or the awaited downfall, anyway. It’s coming. An immortal longing in her bones tugs at the organ that best resembles a heart (but doesn’t act as one should), impatient to be done with it all, for a grand masterplan to see the pawns topple and the Queen rise. Have you ever seen such a beautiful thing? No. There is no match. “Impulsive fools.” There’s a scathing judgement in her tone, the assumption being that if she was in charge, she never would have rushed in. Not without assembling a nuclear arsenal, anyway. Grace knows the most fundamental lesson of battle – you never strike until you can be sure of your victory. Why else would you enter the battlefield in the first place? “They’ve signed their own death warrants.” It’s that thought, of twitching bodies and a path to the throne, of her former comrades and adversaries lying still permanently, that forces her lips into a smile that can only be characterised as a smirk. “Oh well.” She can’t pretend to regret such a thing. The thought of her sister’s place never even crosses her mind. “Their loss – and they willboth lose – is my gain. Neither side can win, so they’ll end up destroying themselves in the process. It’s called mutually assured destruction. Or at least, weaken themselves to the extent that a third party can crush them.” Her hand, previously lying flat, is curled into a fist, hot rage fuelling her fire. Unclenching it, she leans back, but remains attentive. “How do you think I’ll look in purple? It is the colour of royals – you know.”

In-Character Para Sample:

All good stories follow a familiar format. They start with a once upon a time, they describe a delicate princess, more a wisp of a girl than anything else, she is given conditions of hardship, made the tragic hero. That’s why you root for her to overcome adversity. That’s why you beam the moment she meets the Prince. And as everyone knows, all fairy tales end with a happily ever after. They see the wicked witch defeated, the ogre without a head. The story of Grace Dally detoured long ago. She was the Princess turned monster, the greedy traitor who clawed their way up to the throne, flashing their thorns at anyone who cared to probe too deeply. They are not the hero in this tale – but the villain. And the only happily ever after will be hers.

Onyx eyes flatter those she calls comrades, soldiers who look to her for leadership, captains who share her vodka, an underboss she obeys through gritted teeth. Theirs, she muses, correcting her own monologue. For now, at least. It’s a dangerous, devious thought. But she stuck the knife in once – so if it suits her goals, why should she not again? There is, after all, room for only one Queen. Does this one need a King? The compression of time is a dangerous affair. And there is, after all, a distinct difference between now and then. Every social climber with the glint of ambition in their eye knows when to chant there’s no I in team and when to wedge the dagger firmly in the back. It’s a fine line – too soon – and you expose yourself. Too late – and you spend a lifetime wishing back your chances. Grace will not be one of those women. Her place is not as a footnote in history. She deserves manuscripts, endless volumes of her trysts and achievements. Her name will become synonymous with power, her rule the age of darkened chaos. She sees it each time she closes her eyes – a golden crown, a chain of command, everything she has ever wanted. Yes, it’s true, even the hellish creatures of nightmares dream.

Reality, by comparison, is all the more stale. Stagnation makes for a poisonous viper, all the more dangerous, for they have little to lose. Her entire life, she has been a woman in constant motion, seeking the next rung above. As a teenager, her fantasies manifested in trysts in the deviancy of her imagination, a child wearing the face of a condemned soul. Then, she had looked towards the Capulets – eyes greedy to consume it all. They exchanged sharpened knives for a gun she could fire with pinpoint accuracy, slow movements for stealth. (That’s one lesson she never bothered to keep. She wants people to know when she’s coming. She likes them scared). Soldier had been a blessing, all until it wasn’t. Too much anonymity in it. Too little recognition. Three years, with so little to show for it, what was a girl to do? Vivianne Sloane sucked all the oxygen from the room. And people had begun to prattle on about her sister as if she had been the next messiah, risen again. Screw that. Hungrily, her eyes turned outward. And they liked what they had found.

The Spades, the cog that would blast the machine, the eye of the storm, those with a penchant for change. Faron had dared her to leave, extended a hand, waved a promotion right in front of her eyes. How could she refuse? And from solider to captain, she stepped into infamy – cementing her seat at the table. Even if that table had been in Russia, far far away from the thrill of the fight. All good things come to those who wait, her father had once said that, a vain attempt to parent that he never bothered to repeat. Well Grace had done her waiting. Itching, the prospect of destiny tantalizingly close, she edged closer towards oblivion. Can you smell it Verona? Can you smell the winds of change?

Down below, two kingdoms converge, a divide ever dissipating. A lifetime ago, she called one of them home, the other a sworn enemy. Now, they both lay claim to that title, as she – and those who stand shoulder to shoulder with her – will lay waste. In each of their eyes dances excitement. Tonight, they observe. Tomorrow, they play. And in everything, in all the games she’s ever engaged, none has ever matched this. There’s nothing like the hum of a kingdom in your chest – the drums of war beating in the background.

“Is it just as you remember it?” Her boss, his Russian accent slightly compressed, turns to her, eyes glimmering with ambition.

Constructing an answer, her gaze flickers to the familiar figures cloaked below. Even now, at this distance, their faces continue to be imprinted upon her mind. The players, it seems, remain exactly the same. Vivianne, ever as bold and cloaked in irony as ever, stands tall, a protective shield around the child-turned-woman Grace can only guess to be their darling Principessa, in full bloom. Always a docile one, her weakness is going to get her killed. It isn’t so much a prediction or prophecy as it is a certainty. For a Queen to rise, the heir must fall. Grace has known killers who make the distinction between the scarlet of sin and the silver of innocence. She will show no such kindness. Standing close to their left, her eyes settle upon two figures that should be more familiar than most. Once, she would have called them sisters (through a bitter, twisted, tongue). These days, they hold the title of strangers. They may die in the Spades quest. A cold voice speaks within. That’s fine.

Her assessment is frank, a sneer cast downwards. “Nothing has changed.” Predictable. Like dominoes, they will fall – one by one. “The Montagues will prove the easier pickings.” For tonight, where one Montague falls, another rises. But he is a green boy, wet around the ears, possessing none of the cruel ruthlessness of this predecessor. Why crown a man who is not truly deserving? “But I’m confident that the Empire of the Capulets will crumble.” They always do. History was littered with examples of Empires that had come and gone – Greek, Roman, Ottoman – something ripe would always take its place. Something new.

“You’re looking forward to this, aren’t you?”

A devious smile, sharp enough to slice your skin, spreads across her face, brash in her wickedness. She’s known those who keep their impurities close to their heart, a secret used only in the moment of a strike. She’s never been one of them. Her hells are brazen, her sins boastful, brash in every intention. The mark of a Goddess,for they never shy away. How else would you be truly immortal? “I’ve been waiting a long time for this day. And I intend to squeeze every second out of it.” The air chills as she pauses, sentence drawn out in irony. “God bless Verona.”

And, she concludes, long live the Queen.

Extras:

Mockblog: X

Personality Analysis: X

Headcanons:

Lovers, like nearly everything else, are considered disposable for Grace. They have their uses, no one is denying that, but they are somewhat temporary – with Grace refusing to indulge with the same person more than a handful of times. Cliches would have the world believe she did it to protect herself, or because she was afraid of attachment – but that simply isn’t truth. If she’s being honest, five times is all it takes for her to grow weary of them – to become bored. Tricks, after all, are only good the first few times around. And an orgasm is muted as it repeats itself, time and time again. In all her years, she’s never found someone who can keep pace for longer than that – who can continue to satisfy her. In the bedroom, Grace searches for excitement – she wants a lover that surprises her, that can match her ferocity – but who allows her to dominate. It surprises men, time and time again, how she takes charge in the bedroom – where the operation from start to finish is strictly on her terms. If they can’t accept that, she’ll either force them into submission, or toss them aside. Whatever particular whim she’s feeling that day. Her appetites aren’t reserved for the opposite sex. Over the years, she’s dabbled with women too, usually those who resemble a little of her – the same spark of fire in their eyes, the same dare that invites in temptation. But even in those situations, she takes charge – and that’s unlikely to ever change.

Humans aren’t born evil. It’s a mantra that makes Grace roll her eyes, the pettiest of explanations people use to excuse the behaviour of those fallen into a life of sin. Perhaps not. But Grace feels as if she was born to be wicked – a destiny manifesting itself from the youngest of ages, when she gobbled up affection and languished in the finest riches money could buy. As she aged, excusable sins became all the more sacrilegious. After all, isn’t immortality all the less endearing on a matured adult? But it wasn’t until high school that her reign of terror began, that she found a natural talent to rule – sparking an ambition that would never die. Her first taste of power, she ruled over her dominion like a mini Queen. But where the movies would have you believe she was some blonde bombshell undermined by the first girl-next-door on the scene, her rule was a little different. She didn’t give a shit who became prom queen, or who was dating who. But what she did, however, crave, was control. She found it amusing to humiliate and shame people – for anything and everything, mocking them as she went. And high school students? Oh they fell in line all too easily. Once, it even turned violent – Grace leading the pounce upon some poor suspecting girl who had stolen praise and acclaim. That was her first taste of blood. And how she adored it.

#accepted #accepted: goneril

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